A/N: I am so sorry for the almost year-long wait… at first, my muse just kept running off with other fics and new plot-bunnies, but then a bunch of horribly stressful and depressing things started happening. I was going to put a long detailed explanation here, but 2020 sucked for everyone and a lot of people had it a lot worse than me. So the TL;DR is that a relative died in front of me, I lost a cat I'd had half my life to an aggressive cancer after a 5 month battle, my depression came back, and I work in health care (non clinical side) during this pandemic. So yeah. I think the only good thing that happened in 2020 was Biden winning the election, and I suppose if we could only get one good thing, I'm glad it was that.

[Obligatory PSA to please wear a mask, and get the covid vaccine whenever it's available to you. I had the vaccine, it is safe, and personally the only side effect I had was soreness at the injection site just like any other shot.]

Anyway, sorry again for the huge delay. I have not and will never abandon this fic. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story and continued to review/comment/kudo/support it! 3

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 7

Harry had fully expected to fall into a passionate bout of Holy Shit We Almost Died sex or perhaps an intense but gentle round of We Said 'I Love You' For The First Time sex, but instead he'd ended up simply laying on the bed cradled in Tom's arms while the two of them exchanged soft but possessive kisses and sent waves of love and reassurance back and forth between their mental connection. It still felt surreal every time it hit him that Tom had actually acknowledged that he loved Harry, and he'd actually said it out loud.

Harry smiled as Tom's fingers carded gently through his hair. He wanted to murmur another 'I love you' but he held his tongue, knowing that Tom still felt wildly unmoored by the whole concept. Instead, he leaned up to kiss Tom again, and then asked, "So what are we going to do about Grindelwald?"

Tom made a small, displeased 'hm' noise, then said, "I thought we agreed that could wait?"

"He's not waiting," Harry said mildly, still concerned about the ominous letter they'd just received. "Whatever game he's playing, whatever he's plotting—"

Tom leaned in and silenced Harry with a kiss. "Can wait," he finished Harry's sentence when he finally pulled away.

"Fine," Harry conceded, the word tapering off into a yawn. "I'm bloody exhausted—what time even is it?"

"No idea," Tom replied, sounding supremely unconcerned. He shifted closer to Harry, wrapping his arm more snugly around him and turning so Harry's head could lay on Tom's shoulder. "Sleep if you need to."

"Are you going to sneak out again?" Harry asked thoughtlessly, realizing only after he'd said it that maybe it wasn't the best idea to bring up what had started their row that morning.

Tom didn't seem upset by it though, and he said, "I'll be right here."

Harry yawned again and murmured a relieved, "G'night then," falling asleep almost instantly.

Tom pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead and said, "Good night, Harry."

Tom affectionately brushed a lock of hair out of Harry's face, then settled down for the night, letting his eyes drift closed. It had been a thoroughly exhausting day and so many things had changed. He was trying not to think too hard about the revelation that not only was he capable of love after all, he was very much in love with Harry Potter. In love with someone he'd devoted years to destroying. Someone whose childhood he'd rather thoroughly ruined. Tom sighed—guilt was turning out to be even more annoying than empathy—and he very deliberately pushed away the intrusive thoughts and emotions, clearing his mind as best as he could.

After only a few moments of peace, Tom felt a ping at the proximity wards on the bedroom door but he dismissed it, unconcerned—it could only be Nagini or Hermione, or perhaps Draco if he'd never left the suite, but the door was locked and warded, and whoever it was could wait until morning. Tom didn't feel like dealing with it, and Harry needed his rest.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tom did, in fact, sneak out of bed the next morning, but he only made it as far as the door. In all honestly he was only trying to go as far as the door, because that damned proximity ward kept going off in the back of his mind and it was every bit as annoying as a constantly chirping cricket.

He cast a silencing charm so as not to wake Harry, then carefully climbed out of bed. He'd spelled off his and Harry's robes, shirts, and trousers last night after they'd settled in to sleep, and their clothes were all neatly folded on an armchair in the corner. Tom put on his trousers, and on a whim he grabbed Harry's tee-shirt out of the pile instead of his own button-up, and pulled it over his head. The tee shirt was a bit too big to fit right on Harry, but Tom's broader shoulders and chest filled it out nicely, and his extra height helped as well. He decided to forgo any robes for the moment.

Tom silently crossed the room and opened the door inward only to find his path blocked by one of the oversized armchairs, which had been dragged across the sitting room and which was now occupied by Draco and Hermione, both fast asleep. Tom peered over the back of the chair—the seat of the chair was just wide enough for them to sit side by side, but Hermione's head rested on Draco's shoulder, and her body was angled slightly towards him. Draco's head rested against Hermione's and while it probably wasn't the most comfortable position, the two of them looked completely at ease.

The back of the chair faced his doorway, so Tom rested his forearms on top of it and leaned over before loudly asking, "Is there a reason you're blocking my doorway?" He held in a laugh when Draco and Hermione both startled awake immediately. They looked confused and then embarrassed to realize that they'd apparently slept cuddled next to each other in the enormous chair all night, but then they turned their attention on Tom instead.

"Where's Harry? Is he all right?" Hermione demanded. Draco wasn't quite so brave as to issue his own demand, but he backed up Hermione's with an expectant and slightly insolent look directed at Tom.

"He's perfectly fine," Tom answered. "He's sleeping, and there's no reason to disturb him just yet." He gave Hermione an appraising look, then added, "You, on the other hand, should probably still be on bed rest."

"Chair rest is just as good," she replied, giving him a smile that managed to be cheeky and cautious at the same time. "I didn't want to miss it, whenever you or Harry came back—I knew at some point you'd either need out of the bedroom or into it, depending on how you travelled back." There was a slight blush on her face, and she quickly changed the subject to ask, "Have you seen the Prophet yet? They put out a special edition last night."

"Not yet. I just woke—I would prefer to have some coffee first before dealing with whatever inevitable headache the paper brings."

"Of course," Hermione said, starting to stand. "I'll make some—"

"No," Draco interrupted, with a hand on her shoulder gently keeping her from standing. "You'll rest, and we'll request it from the kitchens like civilized people."

Hermione rolled her eyes and said in an undertone, "Draco, I'm fine now, really—"

"Morning," Harry said sleepily from behind Tom, pressing close behind him and wrapping his arms around him in a hug while he rested his forehead between Tom's shoulder blades. "What are you doing?"

Tom didn't startle, but it was a near miss—the silencing spell he'd left around the bed had kept him from hearing it when Harry got up and got dressed. "Harry," Tom greeted, relaxing into the embrace and pressing just slightly back against him. With the way Tom was still leaning against the chair halfway bent over, the position was definitely putting some thoughts into his head. Pity they still had company.

"Harry! Are you all right?" Hermione asked, and Harry's head shot up as her voice startled him.

"Hermione?" He let go of Tom, his movements slow and seeming reluctant, then he stepped out from behind him to stand at his side instead, peering over the back of the chair. "Oh—hey, Draco. What are you guys doing?"

"Waiting to make sure you didn't get yourself killed or maimed yesterday, obviously," Draco drawled.

Harry quirked an eyebrow, then seemed to notice their rumpled clothing and hair, and asked, "Did you two sleep here?" Both of them blushed, and Harry grinned. "You did—that's adorable."

"Adorable?" Draco sniffed and tried to save face by retorting, "You're the ones wearing each other's shirts."

Tom glanced sideways at Harry and properly looked at him—indeed, the boy had pulled on Tom's white button-up shirt, which was endearingly too big on him, and which he'd neglected to button up. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Draco sneaking glances at Harry's chest, so Tom reached one finger up and drew it down the front of the shirt, wandlessly buttoning it while Harry gave him a curious look.

"Any particular reason you nicked my shirt?" Harry asked, sounding amused but also pleased.

Tom shrugged, the movement practiced and nonchalant. "It's comfortable."

"Right," Harry said, ducking his head to try to hide his smile. "Yours is 'comfortable' too." He leaned into Tom's side, yawned again, then asked, "Breakfast?"

"Yes, just as soon as your friends remove themselves from my doorway."

Draco stood up first, his cheeks still slightly red, and offered a hand to help Hermione up. She raised an eyebrow at it, but took his hand. Once the chair was empty Tom gestured and wandlessly sent it back into an approximation of its normal spot by the sofas.

"Show off," Harry said in a quiet, fond tone. Tom held back a smile.

Draco chimed in, "That's technically the first line of a famous speech now, you know."

Harry groaned and looked embarrassed, "The mic picked that up, then?"

"Don't worry," Draco said, still sounding amused as he headed for the dining table, "It was—humanizing. It broke some of the tension and made the idea of the two of you getting along well enough to call a truce more believable."

Tom followed Draco to the small breakfast table, shadowed by Harry and Hermione, and they all took a seat—Harry was on Tom's left, Draco across from Harry, and Hermione across from Tom. "As I already told your friends, Harry, I don't want to discuss the speech or the Prophet or anything else serious before coffee," Tom reminded them all in a polite but bordering on terse tone.

From beside him, Harry glanced towards the floor-to-ceiling window next to the table, then back at Tom. "Right then… Nice weather we're having," Harry deadpanned.

Tom didn't bother trying to keep a straight face, letting a huff of amusement escape. "Yes," he said through a smirk, "exceeding lovely for this time of year."

Harry grinned, and Tom tapped his wand on the square tile in the center of the table, silently ordering four large mugs of fresh coffee, a small pitcher of milk, and a bowl of sugar, all of which materialized on top of the center tile.

Tom reached for the nearest mug and caught Draco and Hermione quickly masking their expressions after sharing an amused look with each other. He fixed himself a coffee with a splash of milk and no sugar, then closed his eyes and took a long, satisfying sip.

Harry watched Tom take the first drink of his coffee, enjoyment written clearly on his face and also thrumming in the background of their bond. Harry smiled, then reached for a mug and prepared his own coffee. After a moment, Draco and Hermione followed suit.

Once Tom finished half his coffee, he decided breakfast for everyone by tapping his wand on the center tile of the table and ordering a heaping platter of French Toast and a bottle of syrup. Four plates appeared on the table as well, along with silverware.

"Help yourselves," Tom said, even as he fixed a plate first for Harry and then for himself.

"I'm going to get spoiled," Harry joked. That was French Toast for breakfast, what, three days in a row now, counting Grimmauld Place?

"Yes," Tom said, sounding completely serious. He caught Harry's eye and added, "I'll make sure of it."

Harry smiled and looked down at his plate, feeling a rush of affection alongside one of those sporadic feelings of surrealism—Voldemort was eating breakfast with him and promising to spoil him. Voldemort had risked his own life to save Harry's the day before, and had told Harry he loved him.

Harry dug into his breakfast and everyone else did the same. There was very little conversation after that—Harry was preoccupied, Tom seemed to be savoring his coffee and the silence, and Draco and Hermione seemed to be playing it safe and remaining quiet to avoid irritating Tom.

Once they'd all finished breakfast—and in Tom's case, another cup of coffee—Tom cleared the plates away with a tap of his wand, then motioned for everyone to follow him to the arrangement of sofas by the fireplace. Tom sat down on the largest one, and Harry sat close beside him and tucked himself under Tom's arm. Draco and Hermione took the opposite sofa, with significantly more distance between them. Harry thought they both seemed rather embarrassed about the chair incident.

"All right," Tom said, "out with it. How bad is the Prophet?"

Hermione blinked, then reached for her beaded bag and dug around inside, pulling out the newspaper. "This is the special edition from last night," she said, laying it down on the coffee table between the two sofas. "This morning's hasn't arrived yet." The special edition's headline blared MINISTRY, POTTER, AND DARK LORD DECLARE TRUCE? The photo was one of Voldemort shaking hands with Minister Thicknesse while Harry stood close at his side. Below the fold, the second front-page headline read DARK LORD DEFIES DEATH AGAIN—BLOCKS UNBLOCKABLE KILLING CURSE, and the photo accompanying that story was of Voldemort materializing out of roiling shadows and putting himself in front of Harry, catching the Avada Kedavra on the tip of his wand at the last moment.

"Why is there a blasted question mark?" Tom grumbled at the first article. "We made it blatantly clear that there is, in fact, a truce. Nothing about it is in question." Tom glanced down and smiled slightly at the second headline before frowning at the picture—the moving photograph made it unequivocally clear just how last-minute Tom's save was—if he'd been even two seconds slower with Salazar's spell, the curse would've landed. Harry watched the picture replay a few times, feeling a chill, and he flinched slightly when Tom abruptly turned the page, putting the image out of view. "I wonder if they've identified the attacker yet," Tom mused out loud, flipping through the pages, which contained a word-for-word transcript of his and Harry's speech on pages two and three.

Harry stared at him in disbelief, then said, "It was Cedric's dad. Didn't you see his face?"

Tom glanced at him but didn't seem to recognize the name. "Who?" He raised a questioning eyebrow, and Harry felt his temper start to slip free.

"Cedric Diggory! From the graveyard—'kill the spare'?" he prompted, raising his voice.

Tom blinked, then said, "Oh."

"Oh?" Harry echoed, scoffing. "I had nightmares about that for ages, and you don't even remember his fucking name!" Harry tore himself away from Tom's side and stood up.

"Harry," Tom said quietly, sending a wave of emotion across their bond, something that was simultaneously 'please calm down' and 'I'm sorry.'

Harry scoffed and snapped, "You're just sorry that it upset me, you don't actually give a shit that you killed Cedric, do you?"

"Technically, Wormtail killed him," Tom said.

"Oh, fuck that," Harry snapped, "and fuck you!" He spun and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Tom demanded, standing and striding after him.

"None of your business."

Tom caught up to him and stepped into his path. "Where are you going?" he repeated, meeting Harry's furious gaze head-on.

Harry glared for a moment before giving him an utterly fake smile and declaring, "I'm going flying. With Draco." He looked over his shoulder and caught Draco's rather terrified eye and added, "Come on, Draco."

Draco looked back and forth between Harry and Tom a few times, then stood and cautiously approached, stopping at Harry's side but glancing nervously up at Tom's face.

Harry looked up at Tom too and demanded, "Are you going to move or do I have to make you?" Beside him, Draco went pale.

Tom didn't rise to the provocation—instead he caught Harry's eye, quietly said "Harry," and pointedly sent a wave of love across their connection.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed, feeling the worst of his anger drain away. When he spoke again, it was in a much milder tone. "I know," Harry said, sighing and running a frustrated hand through his hair. "And I know we can't change the past. Just—just let me go blow off some steam before one of us says something we'll regret, all right?"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Does shouting 'fuck you' at me not count?"

Instead of letting himself feel guilty or embarrassed about that, Harry forced a cocky smile onto his face and said, "Of course not—obviously that was a suggestion for how you can make up for upsetting me." Behind him, Draco made a strangled noise of shock, and Harry realized a bit too late that maybe he shouldn't make insinuations about fucking Tom while one of his followers was standing right there.

Tom, however, just smirked and said, "I'll keep that in mind." Then he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Harry's lips, and added with a hint of suggestiveness in his tone, "Come find me when you're done flying." He spared Draco a brief glance before smiling at Harry again and then stepping aside and heading back towards the sofa, where a very concerned Hermione had been silently watching and listening to the argument.

He glanced over his shoulder, hoping Harry would tease back, but all Tom got was a tight smile before Harry tugged Draco out the door into the corridor. When the heavy door closed behind them, Tom let an irritated sigh escape.

Turning back to face Hermione as he reclaimed his spot on the sofa, he asked flippantly, "Do you think Harry and I will ever manage to get through a morning without having an argument?"

Hermione let out a nervous laugh, then awkwardly joked, "Maybe the French Toast is cursed? We've had it three days in a row."

Tom smirked but pointed out, "We argued before breakfast yesterday."

"But Harry did have French Toast—he had breakfast with Draco and I after you left."

Tom rolled his eyes despite his amusement, then deadpanned, "I'll begin investigating food curses immediately."

Hermione laughed, but then she bit her lip and seemed hesitant to speak.

"What?" Tom prompted.

Hermione shook her head, then said, "Nothing, I just never thought I'd be making jokes with the Dark Lord after having breakfast in Malfoy Manor."

"And I never thought I would find myself so irrevocably attached to Harry Potter, but here we are," Tom said, spreading his hands in a very 'what can you do' gesture. He glanced up, and Hermione's piercing, calculating look made him wonder whether he might've said too much.

After a slightly tense moment, Hermione simply echoed, "Here we are," in a quiet, thoughtful tone. Then she seemed to snap out of her preoccupation and said, "I should probably get back to my research," although her inflection made it come out sounding like a question.

"Yes, of course," Tom said. He started to turn towards his bedroom, but a tapping at the window made him pause. He turned back around towards the large kitchen window to see an unfamiliar owl clutching two rolled up papers in its talons. "On second thought, let's take a look at today's paper, shall we?"

"All right," Hermione agreed somewhat cautiously, going to the window to let the owl in since she was closer. Tom waved a hand at the window to wandlessly unlock and open it for Hermione. She took the papers and sent the owl away, handing one to Tom while unfurling the second paper for herself.

Tom unrolled his own paper—the headline blared: A NEW ERA? and the moving picture was from early in their announcement—it showed Voldemort addressing the crowd briefly before glancing at Harry, who met his eyes and then started to speak in turn.

"Again with the question mark," he complained under his breath. It had to be deliberate, he decided—and after reading the front page article, which relayed his claims from the announcement of the truce in the most dubious of tones, analyzing each against his past actions and the actions attributed to his followers, he was completely convinced of the Daily Prophet's attempt at sabotage by intentionally sowing doubt. "That won't do," he murmured absently.

"I mean, you can't really blame them," Hermione spoke up, sounding hesitant. Of course she had picked up on the article's tone and the strategy behind it just as he had. "It isn't easy to believe that someone as, er—infamous—as you," she paused, glancing up to check his expression before deciding it was safe to continue, "could change so suddenly and so drastically."

"True," Tom allowed, meeting Hermione's eyes and pinning her with a calm but intense stare. "Do you believe it?"

Hermione blinked but didn't look away when she answered, "I've seen how you are now with Harry."

Tom smiled wryly and said, "That's not actually an answer to my question."

Now Hermione did glance down, briefly, before looking back up and bluntly adding, "I believe that your priorities have changed, but not necessarily that you have."

"Meaning?" Tom asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Meaning," Hermione said cautiously, "That I think you would kill everyone else in the world in a heartbeat if it meant protecting Harry."

"That's a bit drastic," Tom said.

"That's not actually a denial," Hermione said, with a small humorless smile.

Tom nodded slightly in acknowledgement then said pointedly, "Not everyone else in the world—just whoever threatened us."

Hermione bit her lip and broke eye contact, nervously saying, "That's not as reassuring as I think you meant it to be."

Tom opened his mouth to reply, but quite suddenly he felt something though the network of the Mark's magic that demanded his attention and made him freeze. "Oh."

"Tom?" Hermione asked, looking concerned.

Tom ignored her and stood up, turning away from her as he focused in on the feeling.

It was a summons from one of his Death Eaters—specifically, a summons from Wormtail. Even more specifically, it was a distress call—a special type of summons that he'd built into the Dark Mark, only to be used in life-or-death circumstances. If he answered the distress call, the Mark would draw however much of Tom's magic was necessary to transport the Death Eater who used it to Tom's side, even if that meant breaking or forcing through multiple wards, which could leave Tom significantly weakened. Which is why the distress call was only known to certain Death Eaters, and why it was equally known that its misuse would result in very severe consequences.

A rather viciously pleased grin spread across Tom's face, and he was glad that his back was turned to Hermione because his expression probably would've frightened her. "Hermione," he said, schooling his smile into something less terrifying as he turned back around. "Would you mind entertaining a guest with me?"

Hermione's eyebrows went up and she cautiously asked, "Entertaining a guest?"

Tom tilted his head slightly and amended, "Well, most likely we would be entertaining ourselves at his expense."

Hermione blinked and cautiously asked, "Entertaining how, exactly?"

Tom quirked an eyebrow at her, then he realized what she was thinking and he let his amusement into his tone when he asked, "Do you really think I would invite you to help me torture someone?"

"No—no, of course not," she said right away, but the relief was evident in her expression.

"Of course not," he echoed, before adding faux-seriously, "We don't know each other nearly well enough for that. Perhaps in a few months, but we aren't there yet, Hermione."

She blinked, and tentatively asked, "Erm—that was a joke, right?"

"Perhaps," he said, then he smiled and said, "Just follow my lead."

Tom closed his eyes, braced himself, and then accepted the distress call. Initially it felt a bit like running face-first into a brick wall, but Tom shook it off and did a split-second evaluation of the circumstances—Wormtail was somewhere with very strong but not unbreakable wards, and someone was pursuing him. Tom reached out through the Mark and sent a summons of his own to Wormtail, which opened the wards of Malfoy Manor to his apparition. Now just to help break through those other wards—Tom concentrated, funneled his magic through the Mark, and sent a burst of raw power through the connection. A massive headache stabbed through his left temple, but he felt something finally give in the vaguely-familiar wards, and a pop of apparition right outside his door told him he'd succeeded. Tom swayed on his feet for just a moment before pulling himself together.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, sounding concerned.

Tom shook his head and hurried to open the door, wand drawn, hoping none of the exhaustion he was feeling showed in his gait. Wormtail lay on his back on the floor, breathing heavily and clutching something round and silver to his chest—it took Tom a moment to notice the object because he initially mistook the gleam of metal for Wormtail's silver hand. A nervous, relieved laugh escaped Wormtail as he looked up at Tom standing in the doorway. Ideally, Tom would've put his snake-faced glamour back on, but there hadn't been time to do it properly.

"Wormtail," Tom greeted, his tone cool but amused. "Explain yourself."

Wormtail blinked up at Tom, looking confused at first. Then he caught sight of Voldemort's red eyes and his yew wand, and asked incredulously, "Master?"

Tom refrained from rolling his eyes and said bitingly, "Yes it's me, and no I don't care to explain the new look. What is that in your hands?" Tom demanded.

Wormtail paled slightly, then stammered, "Oh, er, this—nothing really, just a trinket."

Tom gave him an unamused look, then twitched his wand and dragged Wormtail through the doorway into his suite, closing the door behind him. Instead of trying to grab the doorway or scrabbling for purchase, Wormtail just clung on tighter to the round silver object. Interesting.

"I'll ask nicely one more time," Tom said, using a cold and calculated tone that all of his followers knew meant that displeasing him would be very very painful for them. "What is that thing?"

"I—I don't know, Master." Then he caught sight of Hermione, and his eyebrows shot up and he asked, "Is that Potter's Mudblood?"

"Wrong answer," Tom said, raising his wand.

"No please I really don't know what it is!" Wormtail blurted out, terrified. "I was just supposed to steal it and then put it back."

Tom blinked, hearing nothing to indicate a lie, but he kept his expression as impassive as he could. "I don't recall giving you that task, Wormtail."

Wormtail looked down at the floor, his anxiety visibly tripling. "Well you see, Master," he said, sweat beading on his brow, "I, er, did this as part of completing the task you did give me."

"Oh? Do elaborate."

A shaky, nervous laugh escaped Wormtail and he said, "Oh, it's a long story. Boring really. Not worth wasting your time with, My Lord." His beady eyes darted around the floor, pausing on doorways, looking for escape.

"You're wasting it now," Tom said, lifting his wand.

While Wormtail cringed and hid his face behind his arms, Tom flicked his wand and immobilized the man while leaving him conscious. Tom focused on the silver hand, wrapping his magic around it and delving into the layers of spellwork he'd woven into the creation of the hand. Being immobilized, Wormtail couldn't comment or change his expression, but Tom said for his benefit, "What am I doing? Well, Wormtail, I'm removing the curse that I'd embedded in your hand as a precaution when I gave it to you." He picked the spell apart, unraveling it, and said, "What curse, you ask? Oh, that's right, I didn't tell you—if you had ever tried to fulfill the Life Debt you owe Harry Potter, the curse would've choked you to death with your own hand. Poetic, isn't it?" As the last vestiges of the curse disintegrated, Tom added, "Why would I remove the curse now?" He gave Wormtail a smile that he knew his followers found terrifying, and answered, "Because I'm bringing Harry here, and he's going to invoke that Life Debt to make you cooperate and explain yourself." Tom glanced over his shoulder at Hermione and asked, mostly for show since he already knew the answer, "Harry will be fine with that, right Hermione?"

Hermione blinked, then said, "Oh, erm. Yes?"

Tom gave her a flat look and said, "You don't sound very sure about it." He'd told her to play along, for Merlin's sake.

Hermione crossed her arms and laughed nervously and said, "Well, it's magically-enforced extortion, which is—not good. But I suppose it's better than torturing it out of him. Harry definitely wouldn't like that."

Tom waved a hand and said nonchalantly, "Torture is an unreliable source of information—they'll say anything to make it stop. Just go and fetch Harry for me. Wormtail and I can have a little chat to catch up while we wait for Harry," he added, giving Hermione the warmest fake smile he could manage. "Take your time."

Hermione gave him a rather dubious look, and Tom knew that she knew that he could've just called for Harry through their connection, but ultimately she played along and headed towards the door with only one slightly reluctant glance back at Tom and Wormtail.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Tom pointed his wand at the door to Nagini's quarters and opened it from across the room, pleased when she immediately slithered through the doorway towards him, flicking out her tongue and turning her head towards Wormtail. She hissed a sleepy greeting to Tom and he returned it, but then she went silent—she could always tell when he wanted her to intimidate someone versus when he actually wanted company or conversation.

"If you try to transform and run," Tom told Wormtail as he freed him from the immobilizing spell, "I will let Nagini eat you. Understood?"

Wormtail stayed silent, eyes glued to the massive snake, but he nodded his head.

"Now," Tom said with a cold smile, "we probably have about twenty minutes before she finds Harry and returns with him. Tell me what that is." Tom used his wand to point at the silver object Wormtail was still clutching.

Wormtail hesitated, seeming to weigh his odds, then said, "I don't know, Master."

Tom lifted his wand. "Crucio."

Wormtail only had a second to look shocked before the spell hit him and then he was writhing on the ground in agony. The object—a silver orb the size of a large grapefruit—rolled out of his grip and came to a stop when it ran into the sofa. After twenty seconds under the curse, Tom let him go and said, "Wrong answer. Try again."

Wormtail caught his breath, then protested, "You said—"

Tom laughed, then said, "That torture is unreliable? That Harry wouldn't like it? Both true—but it's still fun, and Harry isn't here right now. Shall we go again?"

He lifted his wand, but Wormtail blurted out, "It's from the Department of Mysteries! I don't know what it does."

Tom lowered his wand and said condescendingly, "Now was that so hard?" Nagini hissed in amusement at Wormtail's fear, making the sweaty man glance nervously at her. "Why did you steal it?" Tom asked, realizing why the wards he'd pulled Wormtail through had felt so familiar—he'd broken through the Ministry's anti-apparation wards once already just yesterday.

"It—it was part of completing the t-task you gave me, and—"

"Don't lie to me. Crucio!" He let Wormtail scream for a moment, then lifted the curse and said, "I could always call Severus and request Veritaserum, or let him have a turn at this—something tells me he would really enjoy torturing you."

"Master, please—"

"Who asked you to steal it?" he demanded, although he was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

Wormtail hesitated, and Tom raised his wand again.

He didn't have a chance to cast before Wormtail blurted out, "It was Grindelwald! He escaped somehow—he made me do it, Master, he would've killed me!"

Tom laughed in disbelief and said, "And what did you think I would do to you for betraying me?"

In the past, Tom had wondered how such a sniveling and treacherous person as Pettigrew could've ever ended up in Gryffindor—now he was starting to think Wormtail had gotten there from the sheer amount of gall he possessed. For Wormtail to have summoned his former master (who he'd betrayed) to rescue him from a failed task he'd bungled for his new master—Tom supposed 'brave' was one word for that.

Wormtail ducked his head, terrified, and said, "Please forgive me, Master."

Tom shook his head, "Oh, you'll have to earn that, Wormtail, and it won't be easy." It wouldn't be possible, to be honest, but he felt no need to be honest with the chronic traitor.

"A-anything, Master."

"Answer my questions—no more equivocation. Why did Grindelwald want that thing?" he asked, gesturing with his wand at the innocuous looking silver orb.

Wormtail gulped. "For—for you, Master."

Tom blinked and glanced at the silver object on the floor by the sofa, the words 'banned interrogation device' replaying in his head. He looked back at Wormtail and ordered in a chilling tone, "Elaborate."

"He—he said it would either defeat you once and for all, or it would restore you to your former greatness from before you w-went m-mad. His words," Wormtail hurriedly added after glancing up at Tom's furious expression.

"Really," Tom said flatly. "And which were you hoping for?"

"This, of course," Wormtail groveled, vaguely waving a hand at the Dark Lord's new appearance. "Your g-greatness, My Lord."

"My…greatness," Tom echoed, intentionally leaving a sinister pause between his words. "And what, precisely, makes you so certain it's been restored?"

Wormtail stammered for a few seconds, then nervously said, "You, er, look better?"

Tom blinked, then flatly repeated, "I look better."

"Yes, yes My Lord, and you seem more powerful than ever," he groveled, clearly relying on flattery to save him.

Tom didn't respond for a long moment, just staring at the pathetic creature in front of him. This was the man who'd betrayed James and Lily Potter, a betrayal that had led to Voldemort murdering the two of them, which led to the insurmountable pain and grief of lost love that Severus had forced Tom to experience second-hand last night, and which had also led to Harry being left to the cruelty of those horrible Muggles. Yes, Voldemort had been obsessed with destroying his prophecy child, and yes another opportunity might have eventually presented itself for him to murder the Potters, but… this man, this pathetic, wretched, vermin of a man was the one who had actually made it possible by betraying the Potters and sending Voldemort right to their doorstep. Right into thirteen years of suffering as a formless wraith. This man… it would be so easy to kill him, just two little words. He would deserve it. It would feel so good, like righting a wrong. It wouldn't undo anything, but it might perhaps restore a bit of cosmic balance on some unknowable mystic level. It might make Tom feel fractionally less guilty for taking away two people Severus had loved, two people who had loved Harry.

Tom blinked again, realizing that he'd raised his wand towards Wormtail without consciously deciding to, and that the cretin was sweating and breathing shallowly and seemed to be bracing himself for another round of torture. Just two little words…

A ping at the proximity wards snapped Tom out of it, and he glanced towards the main door before pointing his wand towards it instead of Wormtail. One quick locking spell later, and his attention was back on the rat.

"Did you find it, at least?" Voldemort finally asked. "The Elder Wand that I sent you in search of? Clearly you found its last known owner," he added in a slightly waspish tone.

Wormtail hesitated, then said, "L-Lord Grindelwald said that it lies with the one who defeated him."

"Dumbledore," Tom hissed the name like a swear word, and Wormtail nervously nodded. Tom narrowed his eyes at Wormtail and suspiciously asked, "Why would he tell you that? Why confirm its whereabouts?" Unless Grindelwald had perhaps already retrieved it, or unless he knew that Voldemort would no longer desire it to defeat Harry after the ritual and the Mirror incident. Or unless he wanted Voldemort to try to break into Dumbledore's grave—perhaps a curse was laid upon it, or some kind of trap was waiting.

Wormtail shrugged, looking terrified, "I-I don't know, Master."

Tom looked away towards the door in time to see the handle rattle at the same time that Harry's consciousness prodded their connection, wordlessly questioning why he was locked out of their suite.

Tom gave Wormtail a wide but entirely insincere smile, and said, "Hold that thought."

Tom turned and took a few steps away to open the door, trusting Nagini to keep Wormtail in line. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard her hiss in warning, but Wormtail was just slowly crawling backwards, inching away from her towards the sofa. Unconcerned, Tom looked away and unlocked the door, opening it to find Harry, Hermione, and Draco on the other side. Both boys looked windswept, and Draco looked annoyed at having their Quiddich game interrupted so soon.

"Where is he?" Harry immediately asked, peering around Tom and catching sight of Wormtail, answering his own question. "What are you going to do with him?" he asked, turning his gaze back on Tom instead.

"What do you want me to do with him?" Tom asked, keeping his expression neutral.

"I want him in Azkaban for betraying my parents and killing those Muggles and framing Sirius!"

Tom tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement, then held up his index finger. "First though," he said, intending to ask Harry to invoke the Life Debt and force Wormtail to always answer Tom's questions honestly and to cooperate from now on.

A sudden warning hiss from Nagini drew Tom's attention away, and he turned around just in time to duck out of the way of the silver orb, which Wormtail had lobbed at the group standing in the doorway. It soared past Tom, and Harry jerked his head sideways only narrowly avoiding it. Draco, who was behind Harry, raised both hands and caught the orb only inches before it would've smacked into his chest.

"What the—?" Draco started, but Tom looked away again at another hiss from Nagini, this one pained and furious.

" He punched me in the face!"Nagini hissed, sounding equally shocked and enraged. Wormtail was nowhere to be seen, but his clothes were in a sloppy heap on the floor.

Apparently after punching Nagini (and oh, was he going to die for that one) Wormtail had taken advantage of everyone's distraction and transformed into a rat, darting for the door between the feet of the humans. Tom caught sight of him and shot a few stunners at the scrabbling rodent—unwilling to risk anything more dangerous when he was firing right next to Harry's and his friends' feet—but he missed.

Nagini launched herself into the hallway after the rat, knocking Hermione off balance as she slithered through the space between Hermione's leg and the doorway.

"Oof!" Hermione tried to regain her footing but fell forward into Draco—she put her hands up to catch herself on his chest, but he was still holding the silver orb so one of her hands landed on it instead.

Tom had a split-second sense of vague foreboding and borderline déjà-vu, but it was too late—a flash of unnatural silver light flared up from the object, engulfing Draco and Hermione who had both gone stock-still with blank looks on their faces.

"Tom!" Harry said, reaching towards his friends.

"Don't!" Tom snapped, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him away. "Don't touch them."

Tom took a few seconds to reach out through the Dark Mark and order the only two Death Eaters on the premises, Bellatrix and Lucius, to find Wormtail and stop him from leaving. He also called Severus with the same instructions, asking him to Apparate in by the front door to block that exit.

"What is that thing?" Harry asked, drawing Tom's attention back. "What's it doing to them?"

"I'm not sure, but don't touch them or the object."

"What if it's hurting them?" Harry protested, and Tom realized he was going to have to do something—but then two simultaneous gasps and another flare of silver light signaled the end of whatever had happened.

Draco and Hermione both let go of the sphere and it fell unceremoniously to the floor with a loud clank.

"Are you two all right?" Harry demanded, looking back and forth between them.

Neither Hermione nor Draco answered—they were too busy staring at each other with shocked and slightly pained expressions, both looking like their entire worlds had been upended.

Hermione spoke first, her voice breaking slightly as she told Draco, "I—I had no idea what it was like for you—"

Draco shook his head and interrupted, "No, I—I am so sorry, Hermione. You are so strong, and so smart, and so brave—"

"Draco," she interrupted, throwing her arms around him and looking near tears, "It's all right, I understand—"

Baffled, Tom interrupted, "I certainly don't—what just happened?"

Draco's arms wrapped almost protectively around Hermione, who was still clinging to him, and he looked at Tom and tentatively answered, "We—we sort of," he paused, glanced down at Hermione, then finished, "lived each other's lives."

Harry's eyebrows went up, and Tom blinked.

"Not every minute of them," Hermione added, "but the important things—defining moments, I suppose you could say."

Tom quirked an eyebrow and pointed out, "It only lasted about a minute, maybe less."

Draco and Hermione both looked up at Tom, brows furrowed.

"It can't have been," Draco said, "it felt like years—we went through years." Hermione nodded along in confirmation.

"A cognitive or time distortion," Tom mused out loud, glancing at the mysterious orb that was laying innocently on the ground. "And it only activated when two people touched it at once," he said, recalling that Wormtail had held it in his hands with no consequences, and so had Draco at first.

Hermione spoke up, sounding tentative, "Everything felt…amplified. Emotionally, I mean. It wasn't like using a Pensieve—I felt what he felt in the memories."

Tom blinked, then absently said, "Empathy?"

"Yes," Draco said, then told Hermione quietly, "It was like that for me too."

"Are you two all right?" Harry asked.

They both nodded, and Hermione said, "Yes, it was just—a bit overwhelming."

Tom lifted his wand and asked, "Allow me to run some diagnostics?"

Draco eyed the yew wand warily, but Hermione nodded and let go of Draco, taking a step towards Tom.

"Any lingering effects?" Tom asked her.

Hermione let out a nervous laugh and said, "I honestly can't tell—I think I might be in shock."

Tom nodded and began casting a series diagnostic spells, checking for compulsions, curses, damage to her core—and he found nothing. "You're fine," he pronounced after a few minutes. "Next."

Draco rather reluctantly stepped forward, and Tom cast the same diagnostics on him, likewise finding "Absolutely nothing."

Draco sighed, looking relieved as he took a step backwards to stand beside Hermione. The backs of their hands brushed and for a moment it looked like they might clasp hands but the moment passed.

Hermione cleared her throat and caught Tom's eye. "Is it all right if I go to my room for a while?"

"Of course," Tom said, catching Draco's eye by accident. "It might be best for you two to stay close until things settle," he added, glancing at Hermione instead and asking, "if you're all right with that, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, muttered, "Yes, we should probably talk about—everything," she said, hesitantly looking up at Draco, who nodded in response.

"Lead the way," Draco said, forcing a smile that turned out a lot more nervous than he probably intended.

"Right," Hermione said, nodding towards her door on the opposite side of the room. "Come on." She spared a quick smile for Harry but didn't linger, disappearing into her room with Draco close behind.

Tom turned back around to find Harry looking more confused than he'd ever seen him.

"What the hell just happened?" Harry asked.

Tom stepped closer and reached up to try to smooth down a bit of Harry's hair that was sticking up at a particularly wild angle. "I suspect it was the same thing that happened to us before we were thrown into that room with the Mirror. I'll need to do further research, but I think it's likely that the orb was used on us as part of the ritual."

"What?" Harry blinked, then said, "Oh—silver light came out of it. You said there was silver light in that dream or memory or whatever from the other day."

Tom nodded. "The amplified empathy fits as well. And before you arrived, Wormtail confessed to stealing that orb from the Ministry on Grindelwald's orders to use against me. I guarantee you it's the 'banned interrogation device' that was stolen."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Pretty weird interrogation device."

"Pretty effective," Tom countered. "If you have an Auror needing more information about a criminal's past or accomplices or motives, it's perfect. The Auror could see every important moment of the criminal's life, knowing how they felt and thought about it all. No hiding anything, no filtering, no lies."

Harry nodded, then added, "No wonder it's banned."

"Hmm?"

"Well it's the most invasive thing I've ever heard of, but aside from that if it goes both ways then the criminal is going to see everything important about the Auror too. And Hermione said the empathy was dialed up, so—they'd sort of bond, wouldn't they? Couldn't really help it. Maybe the Aurors who used it kept getting attached to criminals and lying for them or helping them escape, because they understood them, started caring about them."

"That's entirely possible."

"Why Obliviate us, though?" Harry mused out loud. "If Dumbledore and Grindelwald wanted us to understand and empathize with each other, if they made us live each other's lives then why take our memories away afterwards?"

Tom shook his head. "I don't know—perhaps it has side effects, or perhaps Grindelwald was being uncharacteristically merciful."

"Merciful?"

Tom hesitated, then pointed out, "Harry, you would've experienced the deaths of your parents from my point of view."

Harry blinked a few times, cleared his throat, then rather transparently changed the subject. "What kind of side effects, do you think? Are Hermione and Draco going to be all right?"

"Of course they will be," Tom said. "We're fine."

Harry gave him half a smile but it seemed a bit forced, and Tom picked up on a hint of uneasiness through their connection.

Tom was just about to ask him what was wrong, when a ping at the proximity wards coincided with a clatter in the hallway. He glanced towards the door, which had never gotten closed during all the commotion, and saw Bellatrix stumble into the corridor and nearly fall, knocking down a painting as she caught herself against the wall.

"Mas—" she gasped and clutched at her side, which Tom realized even from a distance was bleeding quite profusely. She looked up, noticed the open doorway, and managed to call out, "Master!"

"Stay here," Tom told Harry, then he drew his wand and hurried to Bellatrix's side. He peered around the corner first, making sure no attackers were waiting, then he arranged Bellatrix's arm over his shoulders and helped her walk back to his suite, kicking the door closed behind him.

"What happened?" Tom asked, steering her towards the sofa and helping her carefully sit while Harry watched with folded arms and a suspicious expression as Tom sat next to Bellatrix.

"The rat," Bellatrix said, wincing. "He hit me with a weak Bombarda and then a boring old cutting hex." She giggled, then winced again at the pain. She glanced at Harry, narrowing her eyes at him, but then she ignored him and turned back towards Tom.

"Did you at least catch him?" Tom asked, pointing his wand at her side and almost absentmindedly healing her wound.

Bellatrix glanced up at him with wide eyes, then shook her head 'no' and looked back down at the floor as if expecting punishment. "He transformed and went into a hole in the baseboards. Probably long gone by now."

Tom tsked but said, "No matter. He'll eventually pay for his treachery. I do wonder, though, how he managed to get the upper hand on one of my best duelists—even with the restrictions I put on your magic, you should've wiped the floor with him."

Bellatrix's brow furrowed and she wrapped her arms almost protectively over her abdomen, hugging herself but seemingly unaware of the gesture. "He—he just got a lucky hit, that's all."

Tom caught her eyes with his and said quietly, "Don't lie to me, Bella."

Her lip trembled slightly, then she confessed, "I froze after the Bombarda." Her eyes were brimming with tears but she looked confused. "I don't—why did I—?" Then a stab of clarity came into her expression, followed by anger and something like betrayal. "Where—?" She demanded, her eyes slightly glazed over as if remembering something distant but painful, "You—you took it away, you—"

Tom sighed in disappointment. "You really have to stop making me do this, Bella." She blinked and tensed as if to pull away, but Tom was faster, lifting his wand to her temple. "Obliviate."

Her expression went blank, and then she blinked a few times, slowly returning to awareness. "Master?" she asked.

Tom smiled, and said in a comforting tone, "It's all right, Bella—Wormtail betrayed us and you tried to stop him. He injured you but you're fine now. All right?"

Bellatrix blinked a few more times, then said dreamily, "Yes, of course, Master."

"Go back to your room and rest—if you see Wormtail again, summon me through the Mark immediately."

Bellatrix nodded, glanced over at Harry as if confused, then stood and walked a bit unsteadily to the door.

Once she was gone, Harry threw his arms up in frustration and demanded, "What the hell was that?"

Tom raised an eyebrow at the outburst, then calmly told Harry, "Some time ago, Bellatrix experienced something traumatic that she asked me to erase from her memory. She is a rather strong Occlumens, though, so even I can't fully remove the memories without destroying her mind. Sometimes things trigger the suppressed memories and they break through."

"So that's why you're always checking her with Legilimency?"

"Yes."

"What was it that you erased?" Harry asked.

"That's between Bella and I."

Harry crossed his arms. "Is that all that's between you?"

Tom tilted his head, a bit surprised by Harry's jealousy and the audacity of the question. "Yes. Though I'll admit not for her lack of trying."

Harry studied Tom's expression for a moment, then bit his lip and sheepishly looked away. "Sorry. I just don't like how familiar she gets with you sometimes."

Tom quirked a brow, then smirked and said, "You shouldn't have told me that—now I know exactly how to make you jealous whenever I want."

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever." Then he glanced towards the door and asked, "Are you not going to try to catch Wormtail?"

"I called Lucius, Bella, and Severus right after he ran. If Wormtail is still hiding in the Manor, someone will find him eventually. If he made it out, I'll track him down another time. I got enough information out of him for now, and I don't think he'll be showing his face voluntarily any time soon—he's betrayed one master and failed another."

Harry nodded, then gave Tom a wry look and asked, "So, you still think Grindelwald can wait?"

"Brat," Tom said, but fondly. "I think," he hesitated for a second, considering, then finished, "that we should pay Hogwarts an early visit."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Tom gave him a casual shrug, then listed off, "To retrieve my other Horcruxes, to get away from the rat infestation here, to do some research in Slytherin's private library in the Chamber." Also perhaps to do a bit of light grave robbery to retrieve the Elder wand, but Harry didn't need to know about that just yet. "We could even have a chat with Dumbledore's portrait and try to get more information from him, if he happens to be in the Hogwarts frame rather than in the one Grindelwald has."

"All right then," Harry said, crossing his arms but smiling at Tom. "Let's go to Hogwarts."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

A/N: Comments give me life :)