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 try to understand their feelings, and have an awful second kiss.
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:IMPORTANT – we have reached that point in the story at which I would like reader input regarding the rating. If you aren't comfortable reading a fic with a rating greater than T, now would be a good time to say so. That's not to say I don't intend to write an M-rated version anyway, but I could easily post that elsewhere and keep the version clean. However, that does mean extra work for me, so if no one cares what the rating is, I won't bother.

Chapter Twenty-One: Shyness and Misunderstandings

When Harry woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains, he knew that the proper, dramatic, dutiful thing to do after having kissed his greatest enemy just a few hours before would be to run to the bathroom and vomit, yet he couldn't think of anything he felt like doing less. He tried hard to make himself feel sick about it, but other thoughts kept filtering through his brain as he tried to concentrate on the most vomit-inducing thing he could think of (naked Snape). One was that it hadn't been a real kiss; it wasn't as though he had had his tongue in Tom's mouth or anything, it had only been lips on lips – they had practically just pressed their faces together, that was all.

That wasn't what it had felt like, though; he had kissed someone before, after all – Cho Chang – and if that was what a real kiss was like, Harry would take pressing faces together with Tom over kissing any day of the week. No, what he and Tom had done had to be classified as kissing, and when he thought about it, it made him feel more warm and peaceful than ill by far. There was also the more practical consideration that Seamus and Dean were talking in loud whispers as they dressed, and if Harry was to stumble out of Tom's bed vomiting when he ought to be asleep in the next bed over, there were bound to be uncomfortable questions and even more uncomfortable rumors. So Harry stayed still and quiet, staring at the ceiling as the room grew brighter.

When the big question came to him, Harry had to say he was surprised that it hadn't been the first issue to come to mind: was he gay? He didn't think so, but how could he know for sure? He tried to envision himself kissing Neville the way he had kissed Tom, and nearly gagged. He tried to imagine kissing Ron; he thought he might actually have found an idea more repulsive than naked Snape. Then he imagined kissing Fred (or George) and he had to cover his mouth to hide his laughter. Harry had never wanted to kiss another boy before, and he had definitely been happily attracted to girls up to this point. Harry frowned, and turned his head to look at Tom.

Tom was still asleep, facing Harry, his breath escaping softly from his slightly parted lips. Something stirred in Harry's stomach when he looked at him, and his frown melted. It was not arousal, exactly, but an odd mixture of protectiveness and something else he couldn't place that made him want to kiss him again. It makes no sense at all, Harry thought to himself, thoroughly bewildered. I'm not attracted to any other boys. To be fair, though, Harry had never felt this way about a girl before, not even Cho. Sure, he had always gotten really nervous when he saw her, but he hadn't felt like he had to stop himself from kissing her when he looked at her, nor had he wanted to wrap his arms loosely around her and just stay like that for the rest of the day.

Harry lay there for some time, waiting for the voices around him to fade away. Some of them did, but then others would turn up, and the ones from before would come back into the dorm. He told himself he'd leave as soon as he stopped hearing them, but all he really wanted was to stare at Tom. He wanted to do other things, too, but those things might wake Tom up, and the one part of Harry's brain that wasn't feeling warm and tingly was feeling very, very nervous about what Tom might do once he woke up. Tom hadn't been fully awake when it had happened, and Harry wondered, with a flush of guilt, whether Tom might not have realized what he was doing. He couldn't remember whether or not Tom had kissed him back; all he could recall were how soft his lips were and how hot the back of Tom's neck had been against his hand. Harry couldn't even remember what had happened after the kiss or when he had fallen asleep. And even if Tom had kissed him back, how much did that mean if he was half-asleep as he did so? To Harry, the idea of kissing Tom again felt very much like a foregone conclusion, but he didn't want to lose Tom's friendship, either.

No objection to Harry kissing Tom again other than Tom not wanting to be kissed could manage to stick itself to Harry's brain. The rest, about Tom's identity, Harry's identity, and all the other practical reasons why he shouldn't even consider kissing Tom again were bouncing off like raindrops. All Harry cared about was whether those reasons would bounce off Tom, as well.

As Harry became more and more awake, and began to take in the conversation outside the curtains, the nervous part of him became gradually larger and more important. When the voices finally left, and the door closed behind them, Harry found himself bolting out of Tom's bed and into his own. After a few minutes of staring up at the ceiling again with his Transfiguration textbook digging into his back, Harry got up, got dressed, and went down to join the voices in the common room. He had already missed breakfast, not that he thought his stomach could manage to keep down food until Tom gave him some kind of answer that made it stop doing somersaults. The idea that Tom would be furious and never speak to Harry again made him feel sick in a way that a hundred naked Snapes couldn't hope to match.

Tom's eyes fluttered open only when the sun was already high in the sky. He was still warm and groggy, and he closed them again without another thought.
'Tom's sure having a lie-in today, isn't he?' Ron commented some time around noon as he moved his rook. He and Harry were playing wizard chess. 'It's not like him. He's usually up at dawn. He won't freak out about having missed doing homework all morning, will he?'

'He's already finished,' Hermione muttered, erasing some words off her Ancient Runes essay.

'It's almost like he can channel the answers from the air, isn't it?' Ron asked, tapping his head. 'Maybe he's so good at Divination that he can suck the answers out of the teacher's brains.'

Hermione didn't bother responding to this frivolous comment. 'Are you ever going to start working, Harry?' she asked him irately, not looking up from her essay. 'You could do with taking a leaf out of Tom's book. He finished everything before going to Hogsmeade yesterday.'

The last topic Harry wanted to discuss at that moment was Tom. Of all the days for Tom to sleep past noon, it had to be the one when Harry's mental health was depending on him. He knew there was no way he could get any homework done, so he had resigned himself to playing wizard chess with Ron. At first Ron had wanted to go flying, and Harry knew that would probably make him feel better, but then he wouldn't be there when Tom woke up, and he'd have to suffer this torment of not knowing where they stood for even longer.

'Harry's too distracted to work, Hermione. He's never played a worse game of chess,' Ron said sagely as Harry moved his queen into position and Ron's knight took her.

Hermione looked up from her work in concern at that, and even Harry was drawn from his thoughts. If Ron could notice that something was wrong with Harry, then Harry must have grown a third arm, which must be holding up a 'Help me!' sign.

Hermione appeared alarmed the moment she laid eyes on him. 'Something is wrong! Tell us!' she said, throwing her book and her parchment on the couch and coming over to sit in the chair beside him.

'I'm okay,' he lied unconvincingly.

'He keeps looking up at the stairs to the dormitory,' Ron said quietly, a slight triumphant smirk on his lips.

'Oh!' Hermione said; she smiled for a brief moment, but then it dropped away. 'But why are you so upset?'

'It's nothing, really,' Harry said. 'And I'm only looking up the stairs because I'm waiting for Tom to come down; it isn't like him at all to sleep in like this. I hope he isn't sick.'

Hermione wasn't buying it. Even Ron wasn't buying it. 'Funny how you seem so desperate when you're looking for him,' Ron added, smirking fully now and glancing meaningfully at Hermione.

'I told you, I'm worried!' Harry replied frantically. That's true, anyway, he thought bitterly. 'That's all, really!' He didn't know why he didn't want to share his thoughts with Ron and Hermione; he just didn't want to talk about it with anyone except Tom. 'We are not involved!'

'Okay, okay,' Ron said, blushing wide-eyed. 'Sorry. You are acting off today, though.'

'I had a late night,' Harry muttered. 'I'm just tired.'

'If you say so,' Hermione said, sounding unconvinced but unwilling to push. 'Just remember to talk to us if there ever is anything bothering you, okay?'

Harry nodded at the very moment that he heard the stairs creaking. Swiveling his head abruptly, he saw Tom walking down, yawning.

'Good morning!' Tom smiled at them. Merlin, not that fake smile again, Harry thought in frustration. I'm going to rip it off his face.

'More like afternoon,' Ron replied, looking again at his watch. 'Guess we may as well go down for lunch.' He stood up and stretched.

And go down for lunch they did. Harry ate like a bird, despite not having had breakfast, and stole surreptitious glances at Tom to see if he could figure out anything about what he might be thinking. It was no good, though; Tom was making easy conversation with Hermione, and didn't seem to be thinking about Harry at all. Ron, oddly, didn't look at all jealous, and Harry knew it was because he had decided that Tom's interests lay in other areas. In fact, Ron joined in Tom and Hermione's conversation far more than usual, and when Seamus and Dean and Parvati joined them around the House table, the talking only became more animated and left Harry feeling more isolated and edgy.

It didn't get better afterward. Tom and Hermione stopped by the library to pick up books; Harry was too annoyed to bother checking the titles Tom was taking out to make sure they were appropriate. Then Tom sat in the common room and read for hours, occasionally chatting genially with other Gryffindors, but never once turning toward Harry, not even sending him one reassuring or even damning glance. Harry tried to do his homework – he had a Transfiguration assignment due the next day – but he only managed to write a few sloppy sentences before dinner.

An hour after dinner had ended, Harry and Ron were still working on Transfiguration, and Harry had gone from annoyed to furious. He put his quill to his parchment so fiercely that he ripped it, and Hermione had to perform a Mending Charm on it before he could keep writing – not that it mattered, because he was writing rubbish anyway. Professor McGonagall would not be impressed.

'Want help?' called a cheerful voice from above him.

Harry looked up from his essay to see that stupid, unreal smile pointed down at him, and he snarled, 'No.'

Tom's face crumbled in a way Harry had never seen before; the smile might not have been real, but the dismay was, and Harry felt, as he looked into the face of the young man who had grown up to murder his parents and countless others, like he had kicked a puppy.

Tom walked away without another word before Harry could voice an apology, and Ron turned a dirty look on him. 'Just because you two are having a lover's spat, you don't have to make my homework suffer for it,' he said angrily.

Harry turned back to his work, but he could only stare at the pages blankly, feeling sick. He nearly choked when he remembered how blissful he had felt the previous evening. He noticed Ron pat him on the shoulder, but Harry shook his head and kept staring down, and Ron left him alone. McGonagall wouldn't even be getting a completed essay to grade.

Tom couldn't manage to read even a sentence of the book he had nabbed from the library after Harry's outburst. He noticed Hermione glancing at him, and tried to look like he was still reading, even turning the pages occasionally. Tom regretted ever taking out the stupid book; it was a new edition of a book he had read before, filled with semi-legal, not quite Restricted Section material that he knew Harry wouldn't have approved of if he knew about it. Tom hadn't even intended to take it out; Harry always checked what he was getting to make sure it was Light reading, and Tom had thought Harry would object, and that they would get a chance to talk, but Harry had completely ignored him in the library instead.

And now Tom knew why. Tom had been nervous ever since he had woken up early that afternoon. He didn't fully understand what had happened the night before when they kissed, but he had been hoping that, whatever it was, Harry wouldn't hold it against him.

Harry had held it against him. He had been ignoring Tom all day except for sending him occasional glares, but even then Tom had thought that if he let Harry know that he wanted to forget it ever happened, they could go on as normal; Harry could forgive him, as he had forgiven him before. But Harry had made it completely clear that he wanted nothing more to do with Tom, and Tom couldn't blame him; he had destroyed the only friendship he ever had.

He hadn't meant to kiss Harry that night. Harry had had his hand on Tom's neck, and he had been so close, and it had just happened without Tom even thinking. What he hated most of all was that he had enjoyed it, no matter how horribly awful he knew it to be. Tom was already strange in so many ways, and he knew he'd done bad things, but he hadn't felt half as terrible about those as he did about revealing to Harry that he was queer. Even worse, Harry was his second cousin twice removed; it was not only queer, but incestuous.

What frustrated Tom most of all was that he hadn't even been thinking of Harry in that way. Not even that night, when Harry had helped him get undressed, and they had been lying together mostly naked in bed, had any sinful thoughts crossed Tom's mind. He had seen Harry nude before in the showers after Quidditch, but it had been just like seeing anyone else nude; he had thought Harry was safe, that he wouldn't even have to worry about that queer nonsense with him.

But it was over now. He had known it would have to end eventually – he had plans, he had no intention of obeying Dumbledore's dictum forever, and then Harry would turn on him – but he hadn't expected it to be so soon. He had expected to know well beforehand when he would be cutting ties with Harry. Now there was no preparation, and Tom hated not being in control.

He stood up abruptly, surprising even himself, and closed his book. He walked up to the dormitory, forcing himself not to look at Harry, and then he took off his shoes and threw himself into bed, closing the curtains around him. His head sitting on his knees, which were curled up to his chest, Tom thought fancifully about what he could do to regain control of the situation. I could make another diary, he said to himself, unconsciously biting his lip. I could make a diary of Harry. I know so much about him that it would be easy! I could imbue all that I know about Harry into it. Then I could set that Harry free of the diary with Harry's own blood – yes, that's perfect, I could make a magical shell and spill Harry into it, making him what I want to be. He would be just the same, except he wouldn't remember last night at all…

If Harry had known that Tom was currently plotting his demise, his guilt may have subsided; on the other hand, he may not have blamed Tom for wanting him dead at that particular moment, because Harry felt like he might be better off that way. Once a few minutes had passed since Tom's departure, Harry got up, leaving his Transfiguration homework in the common room, and walked up the stairs himself. Maybe he'll accept my apology, he thought hopefully as he climbed the stairs. He didn't think of Tom as being particularly forgiving, but maybe he'd just hex Harry and then consider them square if he begged nicely.

Harry's insides were like glue when he opened the door to the dormitory. He slipped off his shoes by the bed and, throwing caution to the wind – he's going to hex me anyway if this goes well – Harry threw open Tom's curtains, leaped onto the bed, and shut them behind him.

Harry took a good look at Tom, who was sitting curled up on the other side of the bed, looking thoroughly shocked. He's so surprised he hasn't even gone for his wand, Harry realized, but in the time it took him to finish the thought Tom did grab his wand. He didn't point it at Harry; he merely held it tightly in his left hand and looked Harry in the eyes suspiciously.

'Tom,' Harry began, figuring that he'd better get it over with before his courage failed him or Tom hexed him into next Tuesday, 'I'm really, really, really sorry for snapping at you downstairs. Could you forgive me, please?' he pleaded.

Tom was blinking furiously as if expecting Harry to disappear each time he closed his eyes; his mouth was hanging open. 'You… you want me to forgive you?' he said quietly, regaining his composure.

'I know you don't have any reason to,' Harry said quickly, 'but I honestly didn't mean to hurt your feelings –'

'You didn't hurt my feelings!' Tom scowled.

'Well, whatever I did, I'm sorry!' Harry finished, knowing that he had hurt Tom's feelings even if Tom wouldn't admit it under anything less than Veritaserum.

The two of them sat on the bed in silence, Harry breathing hard from anxiousness, looking at Tom hopefully. Finally, Tom said, 'I thought you were angry with me.'

'No, I wasn't,' Harry said. 'Well, I was angry, but only because I thought you were avoiding me all day –'

'I wasn't avoiding you!' Tom snarled. 'You were avoiding me!'

'What?' Harry said in amazement. Then it struck him. 'No, no, wait…'

If he hadn't still been terrified that Tom wasn't going to forgive him, Harry would have laughed. It all made sense: he had been waiting all day for Tom to come talk to him, and Tom had been waiting for Harry to do the same, and they had both botched things up so terribly that it would have been comical if the problem were already fixed. As it was, they had a long way to go.

'Tom,' Harry started, more calmly than before, trying to sound soothing so that Tom would listen, 'I thought you were ignoring me all day because you were mad at me about last night.'

Tom frowned and wrapped his arms around his knees. He looked at Harry in a way that uncannily resembled fear – but why would Tom be afraid? 'I thought you were mad at me about last night,' he whispered, turning away.

'What?' Harry gaped. 'You thought I was mad at you? Why? I was the one who started it!'

Tom looked surprised again. 'You-you were? I… I thought…'

'What did you think,' Harry smiled, feeling so relieved that they were finally getting somewhere that he couldn't help himself, 'that you forced me to hold your head to my mouth while I kissed you?'

Tom's looked completely confused. 'You did that?'

'Yes,' Harry replied firmly. 'So if anyone should be mad, it ought to be you.'

An uncomfortable silence descended again. Harry's relief faded; would Tom forgive him, now that he knew it was his fault?

'You're queer?' Tom asked, sounding disbelieving.

Harry didn't know what to say. 'I don't know. I didn't even consider the idea until last night.'

Then, pooling all his Gryffindor bravery into his voice, he said, 'I know that I liked kissing you, though, and I want to do it again.'

Silence descended again, but this time it wasn't empty; it was building up to something moment by moment – Harry could see Tom's brain working, wrapping itself around what it had heard, and Harry held his breath, waiting for an answer.

'I-I liked it, too,' Tom whispered, and Harry managed to breathe, 'but I don't want to do it again.' He seemed to shrink back into the bed as he spoke, as if he were trying to hide.

Harry frowned and moved in closer; he wasn't about to let it end like that after Tom had just admitted that he had enjoyed himself. 'But… but you said you liked it. Why not do it again?'

'Because it's wrong!' Tom shouted suddenly.

Harry was taken by surprise, and he flinched. 'What do you mean, it's wrong? What's wrong about it?'

'You know what's wrong,' Tom said accusingly. 'It's queer and incestuous.'

Tom sounded so serious about these supposedly horrid accusations that Harry almost laughed in his face at the absurdity of Tom finding kissing a distant male relative more morally repugnant than lying, manipulation, and murder. He's a bloody sociopath… and since when does he find anything too immoral? It wasn't like they were really related, anyway.

Harry knew he had to play it serious, though; Tom wasn't the sort of person to enjoy being laughed at, no matter how much he deserved it. 'First of all,' he tried to explain with a straight face, 'being queer isn't considered wrong in the 1990s by most people in this part of the world. You can ask Hermione and Ron if you want; they would tell you the same thing. It's completely accepted practice.' Harry congratulated himself on making it sound so clinical.

'It is? Why? It's not normal,' Tom protested, though Harry could tell that his resolve was faltering.

'Neither is being magical to Muggles,' Harry pointed out, 'but that doesn't mean magic is wrong, does it? I'm telling you, opinions have changed, okay? There are still some people who take your view about it being wrong, but they're prejudiced arseholes.'

Tom smirked. 'You're calling me a prejudiced arsehole?'

'Yes,' Harry smiled.

'And people are kissing their cousins regularly in this time, too?'

Now Harry was uncomfortable. 'Er, no,' he said hastily, 'but it's not as if we're very close relatives. It wouldn't be illegal or anything. It would be strange, but I don't think of you as family, and you don't think of me as family, and no one else thinks of us as family, so…' he trailed off, watching Tom's face hopefully.

Tom didn't know what to think. Harry didn't seem to mind that kissing him was queer, and he wasn't bothered that it was incestuous. Tom was nearly annoyed with him; Tom didn't like playing the part of the prude. It was Harry who was supposed to faint at the idea of a queer relationship with his cousin. He was actually impressed that Harry was so immoral, and he couldn't help but smile.
I don't know how much of that got through his thick skull, but he's smiling, and that's a good sign. 'So,' Harry continued, 'I-I liked kissing you, and you liked kissing me. That's not to say we have to kiss again,' Harry added quickly, seeing Tom start to unconsciously recoil again, 'but we could keep going on as we were before and not let it bother us that we kissed, and if you ever do want to kiss again,' he added slowly, 'you could just say 'Harry, I wouldn't mind if you want to kiss me,' and I'll kiss you. Deal?'

'That sounds acceptable,' Tom replied neutrally, 'but what if you don't want to kiss me?'

The memory of the kiss was brought suddenly back to Harry with full force, and it made him smile peacefully. 'You won't have to worry about that. I'd kiss you right now if you'd let me.'

'Really?' Tom asked suspiciously.

'Definitely,' Harry said.

'So if I told you that I wouldn't mind if you kissed me,' Tom said, abruptly uncurling himself, stretching his legs, and leaning back on the palms of his hands, 'you would kiss me?'

'That's what I said,' Harry replied, a slight edge to his voice.

'And if I told you to stop, would you stop?' Tom asked, narrowing his eyes.

'Of course.' It hadn't ever occurred to Harry to kiss Tom if he didn't want him to.

'Fine.' Tom sat up, cross-legged, facing Harry. He raised an eyebrow, smirked, then said, 'I wouldn't mind if you kissed me.'

Tom didn't know what made him say it. He really did mind if Harry kissed him, thank you very much, but he was curious, too. This was a bizarre new kind of power, to be able to make Harry either kiss him or leave him alone with just a few words. Tom supposed he just wanted to see if it really worked, like testing out a new spell even though he didn't need to use it.

Harry crawled over to Tom a little faster than Tom had been expecting. He had thought he'd have more time to prepare, but Harry was suddenly there, looking at him, and Tom's body stiffened as Harry's face got close. Tom closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his chest.

To his surprise, he felt Harry's hand in his hair again, and he tensed further, waiting. Harry's breath coasted over his cheek, and Tom would have turned his head toward it if Harry wasn't holding him still – when had his other arm grabbed Tom's shoulder?

'Shh,' Harry whispered to his ear. 'It's okay, you're all right.'

Tom felt as though he recognized that tone from somewhere, but he couldn't place it, and his brain was getting foggier by the moment. He unconsciously relaxed when he heard it, and Harry's hand slipped behind his neck.

Tom was nervous, Harry could tell, but he thought he would be able to manage it if he was as gentle and slow as possible. He didn't have much experience – he didn't know, intellectually, what 'gentle' and 'slow' would be – but he felt that he must be doing something right, because Tom was relaxing. He drew away from Tom's ear, back towards his mouth, kissing him softly but firmly on the cheek on the way.
Tom shivered as Harry kissed him on the cheek. He was nervous, he didn't know what he'd gotten into, and he wanted to tell Harry to stop, but his voice wasn't working. He stayed still and tried to control his breathing. Then Harry's lips were at his mouth, and they pressed into his. His own lips twitched, pushing back, and it felt different from last night, but it was still warm, and Tom liked the warmth.
It was too still, Harry realized with a frown. There had been more movement with Cho; he didn't just sit there stupidly pressing his lips. It didn't seem like enough, the way it had the night before, so he opened his mouth.
He's licking my lips, Tom thought suddenly, and it was such a funny thought that he would have laughed if he hadn't drawn in a sharp breath and found the exploring tongue in his mouth a moment later.
The taste was amazing. It was wet and warm and Tom, and Harry was unconsciously moving both his hands down Tom's back to get a better grip on him, to pull him closer.
Harry was pulling at him, pulling him forward, but Tom's legs were in the way; he went from sitting cross-legged to kneeling without giving it any thought, because he was too caught up in how weird it was to have another tongue in his mouth.
Harry knew something was wrong when he felt Tom tense up again, and his tongue was recoiling from Harry's every time they touched. Harry tried for a few moments to coax it out from different angles, but it was no good. Though his body was screaming don't you dare pull away, don't you dare, Harry knew, sadly, that it was unfair.
Tom was confused when Harry pulled away; the entire experience had been massively confusing. It had been nice at first, but the tongue part had been strange, and Tom touched his fingers to his lips, as if to make sure it was gone.

Harry looked disappointed, and Tom felt like he had over a month ago when he had been struggling to mount a broom.

'I'm sorry,' he heard Tom whisper. Tom was scooting away from him again, to the other end of the bed.

'No,' Harry looked him in the eye and grabbed him by the arm to stop him. 'Don't say that. You didn't do anything wrong.'

'You're disappointed.'

'It's not your fault,' Harry said firmly. 'I pushed you too hard, that's all. You've never kissed anyone before, have you? Before me, I mean.'

Tom shook his head, looking mortified. 'If you ever tell anyone that,' Tom said gruffly, 'me being an awful kisser will be the least of your problems. Kissing hasn't ever been on my list of things to learn before,' he added wryly.

Harry smiled. 'You'll get better. It's not like I'm a world-class kisser either. We'll figure it out.'

It had been an awful kiss, but they both improved over the following ten days. They didn't kiss every night; Tom was still extraordinarily shy, and Harry had to struggle to relax him over the course of an hour or two of conversation each time. Their nights, in fact, were much as they had been before they had started kissing, with Harry calming Tom's nightmares, and the two of them talking casually together. The only major difference was that they were physically closer to each other, and Harry was usually running a hand down Tom's arm or neck as they sat together in the dark. Tom sometimes reached out to touch Harry's hand; those were always the nights Harry knew he'd manage a kiss by the end.

When Harry thought of how many couples he saw regularly around Hogwarts kissing in public as if it was nothing (not in front of teachers, certainly, but publicly enough for other students to know who was with whom), and how long it took for Tom to be comfortable kissing gently in private, he realized how painfully shy of touching Tom really was. He still froze when Harry first reached out to him, and he still apologized after every time they kissed, but he was getting better, they both were, and Harry's pride in Tom for trying far outweighed any lingering doubts or disappointment. He knew that Tom hated not being a natural prodigy at something, and the fact that he was making a determined effort to not let his fear paralyze him showed strength of character that Harry was impressed by.

Harry wondered sometimes, when he was back in his own bed, why Tom was so nervous about being touched. Their childhoods had been so similar in so many ways – neither had received any affection, and they had both been bullied – but Harry wasn't frightened of touch, and Tom couldn't bear to even have Harry's arm around him on a couple particularly bad nights. Their lives had been similar, yes, but their reactions to the way they had been treated were, in this case, diametrically opposed. Harry enjoyed hugs and pats and kisses; Tom had to go against his instincts to not recoil from them. It made that protective part of Harry surge to the forefront; when it came to touching, even Tom's acting ability and ill-tempered comments couldn't hide his vulnerability, and Harry was almost flattered by the fact that only he saw Tom flustered and nervous, for the same reason that he liked keeping Tom's real smiles and laughs to himself.

Harry hadn't yet discussed his relationship with Tom with Hermione and Ron; he knew they suspected, but Harry didn't think Ron would be too comfortable with the idea of his best friend making out with another boy in the bed across from his own while he was sleeping. Furthermore, Harry didn't think Tom could take the idea of other people knowing yet, so they were discreet, acting no differently during the day than they had before. Nor did Harry forget his duty to keep Tom on the straight and narrow; he watched him as closely as ever, but now he took more pleasure in it, and Tom was looking back more often than not. Altogether, their rocky new relationship was going as well as he could ever have reasonably expected it to.

All too soon, that relationship, subtle and growing, was put to the test.

wizzan: Rita could become quite a problem, couldn't she? I doubt Rita would dare to write anything too inflammatory about Harry given the fact that Hermione could still turn her in at any time, but writing isn't the only way to cause problems.

Black Perla: The dreams will be discussed again soon...

DarkMarklv: We'll find out Tom's reaction when he learns of his true identity in approximately… drumroll… two chapters, I think.

Kuri the Harbinger of Night: It's safe to say that any time I mention a beetle, I'm not doing it because Hogwarts has a natural beetle infestation ;)

Virginia Riddle-Malfoy: Yes, she did hear Tom say that, and that's what's going to set things in motion very soon.

Shattered Diamond: I keep oscillating back and forth on whether I'm going to do that. At this point, I think yes, but it won't be for a while because of Occlumency.