Summary: A thoroughly impossible freak accident transports our favorite attractive psychopath forward in time from 1942 to 1996. Harry Potter/Tom Riddle slash. Harry and Tom have an argument and make a deal.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, or any other people, places or objects that may appear in this humble work of fiction.
Warnings: Possible spoilers up to the fifth book. M/M, obviously. Rating is down as T for now but may, possibly, increase to M as things progress.
Author's Note: Ah, the first week is coming to a close (i.e. the first half of the story). Welcome to Harry/Tom land. Nothing smutty yet, but things do start moving…

Chapter Seventeen: Speaking in Whispers

Tom didn't mention his encounter with the Minister for Magic that afternoon; he wasn't the sort of person to share information without cause. All he told Harry upon his return was that he was getting a broom, and the rest of the team looked relieved that they wouldn't have to move at half their normal speed so Tom wouldn't fall behind in their next practice. They all worked on chipping away at their huge homework piles that evening – except for Tom, who was already done. This terrified Hermione, who started working like mad.

'Honestly, Hermione, calm down! You have plenty of time, that's not due until Tuesday,' Ron sighed, rolling his eyes.

'Tom's already done, though!' she said.

'So?'

'So I ought to be, too,' she replied firmly, turning back to her books and refusing to say another word.

'Harry,' Tom asked tentatively, 'could I go down to the library?'

'No,' Harry said flatly, not looking up from his Transfiguration paper.

Hermione and Ron looked up at Harry in surprise. 'That's a little rude, Harry,' Ron frowned in surprise.

'Yes, it is,' Hermione said.

'It's too late to go to the library. You know it's closed.'

'You didn't have to say it like that, though,' Hermione said, giving Harry an annoyed look before turning back to her work.

Harry sighed. 'Sorry, Tom,' he said, not sounding much less rude than he had before.

'That's okay,' Tom replied. 'Does anyone happen to have extra reading materials? I'm through with the textbooks.'

Harry reached quickly into his bag and drew out a thin book that he thrust into Tom's hands. 'There, you could use that,' Harry said grumpily.

Tom looked down at the title, 'Flying with the Cannons,' and tried very hard to hide his disgust. He opened it and found that he was, indeed, bored enough to read the Quidditch tripe contained within.

Harry woke up after only a few hours and found, after an hour of tossing and turning, that he couldn't get back to sleep. His brain wouldn't shut off; he was worried. He couldn't stop thinking about Voldemort and what he might be doing at that very moment while Harry lay safely in bed at Hogwarts. When Harry managed to turn his thoughts away from that, they would be filled instead with Tom, the nearer problem. He wasn't exactly sure why he was worried; Tom couldn't hurt anyone, considering the close scrutiny he was under. If he hadn't opened the Chamber of Secrets again with just Dumbledore watching, how would he cause trouble if Harry was dogging every step he took? On the whole, he was pretty harmless; even Draco Malfoy could probably cause more trouble.

Harry found that he was worried about what would happen once Tom found out who he really was – and he had to find out, eventually. It seemed to him that the information would cause more trouble for Tom than for anyone; what if he tried to leave Hogwarts? What if someone else found out? Shaking his head, and realizing he wasn't going to get any more sleep for a while, Harry pulled back the curtains of his bed a bit and swung his legs out.

As it happened, he had gotten up out of the left side of his bed, facing Tom's. He was going to pull out some homework to do in bed by wandlight when he heard a loud rustling coming from Tom's four-poster. He sat on the edge of his bed and listened; every few seconds he would hear it again, rising out of the background of Neville's snoring. Frowning, Harry slid quietly to his feet, put on his glasses, and grabbed his wand. Blinking sleepily in the darkness, he padded across the short distance between their beds and, reaching his empty hand out tentatively, pulled back a small amount of Tom's curtain.

What Harry saw surprised him – but what had he expected, an attack? Tom was thrashing about in bed, unable to stay still for more than a few moments. Lighting up his wand with a whisper, Harry took a closer look and saw that Tom had thrown the covers off his chest completely and that his face was gleaming with sweat. Before he really thought about it, Harry had opened the curtains further and was reaching out his hand.

He grabbed Tom's shoulder and shook it lightly. 'Hey,' he whispered softly. Nothing happened. He shook his shoulder harder, leaned over and said, 'Hey, Tom,' in a more insistent whisper. Finally, giving up all pretense of gentleness, he shook his shoulder hard, and Tom's eyes bolted open.

Their eyes met. Tom backed away from Harry as much as he could with the blankets so tangled, and reached the one hand that wasn't tied up in the sheets under his pillow and grabbed his wand, pointing it at Harry, his eyes wild.

'What are you doing?' Tom hissed.

Harry blinked. He didn't really know what he was doing. 'You were having a bad dream,' he said stupidly.

'You even watch me when I'm asleep!'

'No!' Harry replied in an angry whisper. 'I just happened to be awake, that's all.'

'Why were you attacking me?' His wand was still pointed directly at Harry's chest.

Harry snarled. 'I wasn't attacking you!'

'Then why do you have your wand out?' Tom hissed, trying to disentangle himself from the sheets while still awkwardly pointing his wand at Harry.

'I needed to see! If I was going to attack you, why would I wake you up first?'

'Go, just go!' Tom waved at him angrily.

'Fine! Next time I'll just let you have nightmares!'

'Good!'

'Goodnight!'

Harry threw the curtains closed again and walked quickly back to his own bed, shutting the curtains behind him. He lay awake fuming for another hour before falling asleep again.

'Need help?'

It was Monday, and that bit of homework Hermione had been finishing on Saturday night was due the next day. She and Tom were the only ones finished; the others were still working on what Flitwick had set for them at the end of Friday's class on the differences between Illusion Charms and Transfiguration.

Tom looked down at Ron and Harry, a bashful grin on his face. Harry narrowed his eyes – he and Tom hadn't said much to each other since Saturday night – but Ron broke into a grin. 'Yeah, that would be great, actually… what was the fifth difference that Flitwick mentioned in class? My notes are kind of smudged. Here, have a seat.' He gestured to a chair across from him.

Tom sat down. 'He was talking about how putting an Illusion Charm on an object actually takes more magical power than transfiguring it because transfiguration only requires the initial magical strength necessary to change the object. Disguising the object, on the other hand, means that the Illusion Charm continually drains from the magical power used to cast it, so unless the spell is very strong, the illusion won't last long.'

'Awesome, thanks,' Ron said, scribbling down Tom's response. 'Uh, do you think you could give a demonstration? Flitwick said he'd be testing us on them tomorrow to see if we could keep an object disguised for the whole class period, but I can't get mine to last more than a few minutes.'

'Very well,' Tom said, 'though I should warn you that it's more a question of how much you focus on what you want the object to look like, how much of your magic you release in casting it, than the way you move your wand.'

Tom stood up and pointed to Harry's textbook. 'Dissimulo!' With a perfect swish and a flick of his wand as he spoke, a bolt of white light shot out of his wand, and the book became a candle.

'I was using that,' Harry said irritably.

'I could cast the counter-charm,' Tom said hurriedly. 'I didn't mean to –'

'No, that's fine.' Harry rolled up the parchment of his essay. 'I just finished. I think we should turn in now.' Without another look, Harry walked up the stairs, and heard Tom walking slowly after him.

They reached their dormitory, which was empty. 'What's the problem?' Tom asked, sounding very irritated about having to bring the subject up.

'I don't want to talk about it. Goodnight.'

'I thought you said you didn't want to fight me!' Tom said through gritted teeth. 'Am I supposed to pretend to be happy about being shaken awake by an armed Gryffindor?'

Harry rounded on him, his nostrils flared. 'I was trying to help you!'

'No one else has ever bothered,' Tom said softly. Harry didn't know what to think; was Tom acting, or was there a real melancholy bitterness in his voice? Whatever it was, Tom had shaken it off by the time he had spoken again. 'Just don't do it again, and we can pretend it didn't happen,' he said reasonably.

'Fine, we'll start tomorrow.' Harry crawled onto his bed. 'Goodnight, Tom.' He pulled the curtains shut.

'You forgot to brush your teeth,' Tom said, walking out to the bathroom.

Harry growled when Tom was gone. What had he done to make him deserve having to put up with that psychotic, egotistical, murdering bastard? He knew Tom was right – they had to be friendly to each other to keep up the ruse. A couple of days without talking much wasn't a big deal when so many other people were vying for Tom's attention, but it would be noticed eventually, so he would have to let bygones be bygones, at least outwardly. He stripped down to his underpants, threw his clothes to the foot of his bed, and climbed under the sheets. He fell asleep before even taking off his glasses.

Harry blinked and yawned as he woke. There was no light streaming through his curtains; it was still late at night. Completely frustrated with himself, Harry huffed and closed his eyes again. Once more, however, he just couldn't get to sleep. His brain was still running through Charms work; Harry wondered how Hermione managed to sleep at all with all the work she did; even now that he was done, he couldn't get it out of his head.

His thoughts turned toward Tom again. He sighed and opened his eyes, looking at his curtains, in Tom's direction. No, Harry told himself firmly, becoming even more frustrated with himself. I don't care if he's having nightmares. I just don't care.

Nevertheless, curiosity itched at the corners of his mind; growling softly, he reached out an arm and opened his curtain just a bit. Sure enough, the same rustling noises were coming from behind the dark curtains. Hermione was right, Harry grumbled to himself, I do have to play hero, don't I?

Harry sighed and got out of bed, taking the same steps he had the night before, his glasses on and his wand at his side. He's going to be really mad if I wake him up, Harry considered. Well, he doesn't wake up easily, so if I just take a quick look…

He reached Tom's bedside. Inching the curtains open slowly, he saw him tossing and turning in bed, a soft whimper occasionally escaping his lips. What is he dreaming about? Harry wondered. What haunts such an awful person in his sleep?

He stretched out his hand again, but stopped before he touched Tom. If he woke him again, he'd get yelled at, everyone would wake up, and he'd probably be hexed. He didn't have any good reason to be there. Tom's cries were getting louder. He'll wake up the whole bloody dorm at this rate! Harry thought angrily. I can't believe that lot can sleep through this!

Tossing caution to the wind, Harry put his hand, again, on Tom's shoulder. Harry didn't shake him, but he held him firmly so he couldn't roll around so much. 'Hey,' he whispered. 'Hey, it's okay, nothing to worry about here, calm down…'

To Harry's relief, this seemed to have the desired effect. He didn't know if it was his words penetrating Tom's sleeping brain, or if Tom found it comforting to be held down, but he calmed in his sleep, and didn't wake up.

Once Tom had stilled completely, Harry removed his hand and tiptoed back to bed. He got back in and wondered idly whether Voldemort was such a heavy sleeper, too – surely he would have been assassinated by now if he was. He must have purged whatever made his sleep so troubled long ago, or maybe he just wasn't human enough any more to have nightmares.

Classes continued, the days flew by, and October was upon Hogwarts. Harry couldn't believe he and Tom had survived a month in each other's company, and he especially couldn't believe that Tom hadn't caught Harry chasing away Tom's nightmares.

Harry had always thought that he had a pretty bad time with nightmares, but Tom had proved him wrong. The morning after Harry's first successful time calming Tom in his sleep, there had been a noticeable difference in him. While he was normally up before anyone else to do homework, Tom had slept longer than anyone in the dorm, and Neville had ended up having to wake him up for breakfast. Tom had also had a surprising amount of rosy color in his usually pale face, making him look more hearty and healthy. He even seemed to be less edgy during their Quidditch practice that evening, too, though he might have just been getting used to flying.

It hadn't helped Tom's demeanor at all. He had still muttered a spell under his breath in the hall and made Malfoy trip on his own robes, not that Harry was going to tell him off over something that funny, but Harry hadn't been expecting miracles, and that's exactly what Tom not being an arse would have amounted to. Harry had slept soundly the night after, and Tom had looked just as he always did when Harry woke; pale, tense, and too awake for the time of day. Harry had wondered, then, whether Tom had nightmares every night. As he then discovered, Tom definitely did.

Harry hadn't woken up again for a few more nights, but when he did, Tom had been thrashing about as usual. Harry had done as he had before; held him down, whispered softly, and then went back to bed and fell fast asleep. As the month had progressed, Harry had found himself getting up in the night with increasing frequency, as though his body was getting used to waking up at half past two and then sleeping again after having fought off Tom's nightly terrors. Furthermore, Harry had become less careful about the process; he would wake up, walk over to Tom with his eyes half-closed and his wand still on his nightstand, whispering a little louder than he had done before, and sometimes even giving Tom's shoulder a squeeze and trailing his hand sleepily down his arm as he pulled away. Tom never even stirred. Harry still wondered how his roommates managed to sleep through it all some nights; Tom could thrash violently and moan loudly, but no one woke except for him.

That first October night turned out to be no different, at first. Harry woke up around what he supposed was the usual time, rolled out of bed, and walked, bleary-eyed, over to Tom's bed. He was so used to the routine that it didn't even register in his brain that, for the first time, there was a light on behind the curtains.

Harry opened the curtains and nearly reached out his hand before he saw that Tom was sitting up in bed, completely awake, and reading by the light of his wand.

Tom looked up at him in shock. 'What are you doing here!' he said loudly.

'Shh!' Harry said, feeling a little more awake and a lot more stupid. 'Keep it down, you'll wake them up!'

'What. Are. You. Doing. Here.' Tom hissed, just a little more softly.

'I… uh, I saw the light on in your room – I mean, your dorm – uh, your bed,' he mumbled, biting his lip and rubbing his eyes. 'You okay?'

'Yes,' Tom said slowly, as though this should be obvious.

'Okay, well, then, uh… hey, what're you reading?' he asked half-heartedly through a yawn. Tom might be up early to read something illicit, after all.

Tom held up the book. Harry had to lean in a lot to read the title, because he didn't have his glasses on, and nearly fell onto the bed. 'Prefects Who Gained Power,' Harry read out slowly. 'Looking yourself up?'

'I'm not in it,' Tom grumbled. 'It's all about Prefects who became Head of some Ministry department or other.'

Harry hummed in response. He was backing slowly away when Tom said, 'Sit down. I want to talk to you.'

Talking to Tom was the last thing Harry wanted to do at this time of night, or ever, but he was feeling like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, so he guiltily complied, crawling onto Tom's bed and sitting cross-legged.

'So,' Tom said pleasantly, setting the book aside and staring at Harry, who felt very vulnerable sitting without his glasses or his wand in front of a dangerous criminal with a wand at the ready, 'do you come into my bed often, I wonder?'

'Why would you think that?' Harry asked warily.

'Because I… because you looked very comfortable opening my curtains and you weren't even looking at me when you came in.'

'I told you, I saw the light,' Harry said, feeling flustered.

'Funny, I would think you would bring your wand, or at least your glasses,' Tom sneered.

Harry sighed and pressed his right hand to his face. 'Don't be angry, I've just been hearing your nightmares, so I just come over and-and fix them, that's all. I didn't want you to wake anyone up.'

'I've never woken anyone up, not since I was a child,' Tom whispered. 'What did you do, stroke my hair, and coo to me in my sleep?'

Harry tried to place the tone in Tom's voice – there was something different from anger there – but his brain was still working too slowly. 'No, I just held you by the shoulder and-and that's it.' Harry thought his nightly comments came a bit too close to cooing to be acceptable, and thought it prudent not to mention that part.

Tom looked down at his lap. 'I told you to leave me alone,' he said softly.

'I was only trying to help!' Harry whispered furiously. 'I didn't even bring my wand, see? I wasn't trying to-to hex you in your sleep!'

'It's okay,' Tom said. 'I suppose I should thank you. I've never slept so well. I knew something was going on when I started sleeping through the night so often. And here I thought Dumbledore was slipping some kind of mind-control potion into my drinks.' Tom chucked a bit. 'I'm a little relieved, honestly.'

There was an awkward silence in which Harry didn't know what to do. Should he go? Should he say something? 'Why were you reading that awful book?' Harry asked, forcing a smile.

'I was trying to stay awake,' Tom shrugged. 'Just to make sure I could fight Dumbledore's potions if I needed to. Though, I must admit,' he smirked wryly, 'the book is more of a sleep aid than a stimulant.'

Harry smiled genuinely at that, wondering what Percy would say if he knew that one of the most brilliant – if evil – students to ever pass through Hogwarts found one of Percy's favorite old books dull. He found it hard to sit up anymore, so he lay back on the bed, his fingers drumming on his stomach. 'You're really paranoid, you know that?'

Tom shrugged sharply, his eyes shadowed. 'Only the paranoid survive,' he said darkly.

'I'm not paranoid,' Harry replied casually, 'and I've lived through a lot.'

'Sounds to me like you're just lucky. Avada Kedavra doesn't bounce off the rest of us.'

Harry frowned. 'I am lucky, I won't deny it, but there's a bit of skill involved, too. I'm not a complete idiot, you know.'

Tom smirked. 'And here you almost had me fooled. Tell me about yourself. I hear whispers of stories about you, but the only thing I know for sure is that you've escaped death several times; I still don't know how. I don't know much about you at all. Tell me something – anything.'

'I thought I was just lucky,' Harry muttered cheekily.

'Oh, come now, indulge me,' Tom said, moving to lie on his side facing Harry and balancing his head on his fist.

'I'll make you a deal.' Harry looked at Tom seriously; he knew that Tom only wanted to know about him so he would know all Harry's weaknesses, so he wouldn't make his enemies' mistakes, but Harry thought that he had a great deal more to gain than Tom from this conversation if he played it right. 'I'll tell you about me, and you'll tell me about you. Deal?'

'Deal,' Tom smiled. Even though he didn't have his glasses, Harry thought he detected an unhealthy gleam in those eyes. 'I must warn you, however, that my life isn't nearly as interesting as yours if even half the whispers are true…'

To answer the multiple questions about the beetle of the previous chapter… yes, it was precisely what you suspect :)