Summary: A thoroughly impossible freak accident transports our favorite attractive psychopath forward in time from 1942 to 1996. Harry Potter/Tom Riddle slash. Tom discovers his true identity.
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. Now rated M. Seriously, this is rated M for real this time.
Author's Note: Heh, I just realized I screwed up the summary for the last chapter… sorry. It's fixed now. There's also a slight change to the Lestrange battle scene for anyone who cares to read it, but nothing major, and one extra review reply to one I missed. God, it's hard to write an M rated story. I've had to rewrite a certain scene three times now to cut it down from obviously MA content. This is my personal favorite chapter so far (and long, very long) so I hope you all enjoy it and please remember to review, I like hearing from my readers :)

Chapter Twenty-Four: Verbal Contracts

Harry woke up slowly the next morning, savoring the warmth of the bed. He recognized hazily that it was a Monday, and that he had to get to Transfiguration soon, but when he looked to the sleeping form on the other side of the bed, facing Harry – they must have moved apart during the night – he couldn't have cared less. He wanted something more desperately than he ever had before, and he was going to get it. He had almost lost him to Death Eaters less than forty-eight hours ago, and he felt as though he had to do something to wash that away.

Harry threw the covers off himself and Tom. Tom curled up slightly against the cold in his sleep, but did not wake up. He carefully made his way over to him, excitement already burning in his stomach and making its way southwards. Carefully, he ran a hand down Tom's side, stroking him several times slowly, before moving his mouth to his chest and capturing a nipple lightly in his mouth.

He sucked at the pink nub, licking and tasting. Tom was awake now and pulling away, but Harry refused to let him this time. He grabbed him to keep him close and moved his mouth up his chest to his neck, trailing kisses there before moving to his jaw, then to the corner of his lips, and then to his cherry-red mouth.

Tom's lips opened, willingly admitting his tongue, and they were both awake enough now for a hot, demanding kiss. Harry moved a hand down the other boy's torso, down his stomach, and grabbed at his crotch through his shorts. Tom half-moaned, half-yelled into his mouth, and ended the kiss. Tom and Harry, being teenage boys, had each become aroused before by the other during their sessions, but Tom always pulled away before he got too hot around the collar, and Harry had ended up bringing himself to completion in his own cold bed on more than one occasion. Tom's hand was now scrambling to grab at Harry's wrist.

'Tom,' Harry said deeply, squeezing gently with his hand. Tom moaned, but his hand still reached down to pull Harry away. 'Tom,' Harry said again, quieter this time, more serious, and Tom turned to him. 'Just be still. Trust me.' Harry wanted to do this, and he knew that he wasn't going to get anywhere if Tom wouldn't trust him a little past his comfort zone. 'I would never hurt you.'

Tom still looked nervous, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, but Harry's hand didn't encounter any resistance as he continued to rub Tom's crotch slowly. 'That's it,' Harry whispered. He had no idea what he was doing, but he was getting harder himself and wasn't going to waste the few working brain cells he had left by thinking about it.

Desire winding tightly around him, Harry managed to pull his hand away and instead put both his hands on Tom's slim hips, at the top of the waistband of his boxers. 'I'm going to pull them off,' he said, and Tom nodded jerkily, biting down on his lip, his face flush with color.

Harry pulled them down gently, stopping as the waistband slipped into Tom's crotch, and then stretching it carefully over his hardness. He let a moan of appreciation escape his closed lips as Tom was revealed, long and flush. Tom sighed with relief, and finished the job Harry had started, pulling his shorts down and off completely.

Harry had seen him naked before in the showers, but it was nothing like this, with all his outer layers of caustic nervousness stripped away to reveal heavy breathing and need. Harry's hands reached down to stroke him, only touching softly, reverently as Harry watched Tom's barriers fall in his eyes to reveal dark, foggy desire.

'Please,' Tom whispered throatily, choking a sob as he place his hands on Harry's and wrapped them around himself until Harry's hands were full. Then Tom let go, and his eyes pleaded. Harry removed one hand and Tom nearly screamed in protest, but then the other squeezed gently and began moving up and down. Harry tried to remember what he liked doing to himself on all those cold nights previous when Tom had driven him to distraction. Tom was arching rhythmically off the bed, and Harry was becoming so painfully hard that he had to focus every bit of willpower on not touching himself. As one hand continued moving up and down, occasionally tightening and making Tom gasp, his other moved down to Tom's balls. Harry held them firmly in his hand, and Tom arched off the bed one last time, more wildly than before, and came.

Tom fell back onto the bed, and Harry couldn't wait any longer; he placed one knee between Tom's legs and started humping him desperately, sliding on Tom's sweaty skin, his upper thigh bumping Tom's softening flesh.

'Tom! Are you okay? AAAHH!'

Harry opened his eyes as he reached his climax between his own stomach and Tom's leg. He only caught a quick glimpse of Ron's horrified expression before the curtains shut again and he heard, from outside them, yells of 'My eyes! My eyes!'

'Are you sure you won't reconsider letting me kill him?' Tom asked conversationally as they hurried toward class. Transfiguration had started a couple of minutes ago.

'I'm sure, Tom. He won't tell anyone.'

'I could Obliviate –'

'No,' Harry cut in. He didn't want his best friend to end up like Lockhart. 'Don't worry.'

They reached the class and opened the door. As they walked in, McGonagall's lecture stopped abruptly, and the entire class turned as one to watch them, the volume of the muttering rising steadily.

'Mr. Potter, Mr. Maxwell, please take your seats. Ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness.'

'Yes, Professor,' Harry said. Tom just smirked and winked at her. Professor McGonagall's jaw twitched several times, as if she wanted to take off points for cheek but was actually too angry to do so.

As they walked to their seats, Harry noticed that Ron was looking everywhere but him, his face nearly as flushed as Tom's had been when… well. At his side, Hermione was biting her lip and giving Harry a nervous, desperate look as her eyes flitted around the room in alarm. As he was about to sit down, he saw her mouth 'Witch Weekly,' and that set his mind at ease because he couldn't care less what the latest gossip about him involved as long as Voldemort hadn't killed any more people.

Hermione didn't dare pass notes or give Harry any further indication of what people were talking about in McGonagall's class, but when Harry noticed people turning around to look at him while Professor McGonagall was facing the blackboard and then glancing sideways at Tom, Harry had a feeling he could guess what Witch Weekly had reported. When class was over, Hermione confirmed his suspicions by handing him the magazine, which had a picture of him and Tom in Honeydukes during their October trip to Hogsmeade on the cover, along with the headline 'The Boy Who Lived Finds Love.'

'It's awful, Harry!' she said desperately. 'I'm not usually concerned about this sort of thing, but it makes Tom sound really bad.'

Tom chuckled as he packed his textbook into his bag. 'I hardly care what they're saying about me in some ladies' magazine.'

She frowned. 'Even if they're saying that you crawl into Harry's bed at night to have your wicked way with him while he's asleep, casting all kinds of dark enchantments to keep him in your thrall, under the Headmaster's orders, no less?'

'Actually, that sounds even better,' Tom replied. 'Kinky, isn't it, Harry?'

'Yeah,' he replied, also smiling, 'but they got our roles reversed. I'm the one who sneaks into your bed and has his wicked way with you.'

'Stop joking! This is serious!' Hermione cried. Ron looked like he wanted to melt into a pile of goo on the floor. 'I wish I knew who wrote it! It's written anonymously. It seems typical of Rita Skeeter, but I can't be sure, and it wouldn't be fair to reveal that she's an animagus if she doesn't turn out to be the one who wrote these lies.'

'Rita Skeeter?' Tom frowned. All three looked at him, even Ron. 'I remember her. She was in Dumbledore's office that day.'

'That day? What day?' Harry demanded.

'Oh, it's not important,' Tom waved him off. 'What does she turn into?'

'A beetle,' Hermione replied. 'You haven't seen one around, have you?'

Tom thought hard. 'I don't know. Perhaps.'

'Tom, this is important,' Harry insisted.

'How am I supposed to know?' he shrugged. 'I think there was one in Dumbledore's office that day I was speaking with him about getting a new broomstick, right before she showed up with the Minister for Magic.'

'You never mentioned this!' Hermione said sharply.

'Sorry,' he grinned sheepishly. 'Slipped my mind.'

'I'll give you mental slippage,' Harry growled into his ear after he had told them about his encounter with the Minister and Rita Skeeter.

'Please do,' Tom smirked back.

Harry blushed. 'I didn't mean it like that!'

'Of course not,' Tom replied airily. 'I'm the one who's putting dirty thoughts in your head via Dark magic, after all.'

'Tom,' Hermione said from behind them. Harry and Tom both stopped and turned to look at her. Hermione gave Harry an exasperated look, but he didn't move. 'I need to speak with Tom privately, if you don't mind.'

'What if I do?' Harry crossed his arms.

'Of course,' Tom smiled cheerfully. 'That is, if you don't mind being late for Herbology.'

'We were already late for class today once,' Harry mumbled. 'We shouldn't be late again.'

'Don't worry, Harry,' Tom grinned, slapping him lightly on the back in camaraderie. Harry scowled. He's too easy to play with, Tom thought. 'Hermione and I will only be a few minutes, I'm sure.'

'Yes, yes,' Hermione hurried the conversation impatiently, grabbing Tom's shoulder and steering him away from Harry. For a moment, it looked like Harry was going to grab him back and that he was going to be in the middle of a tug-of-war, but Harry relented and walked away with Ron, glancing back at Tom edgily.

Hermione tugged him along to an empty classroom, and Tom immediately sat down, stretched out and asked, grinning, 'What did you have to discuss with me?'

'It's about what happened in Hogsmeade,' she said sternly, standing up above him. Tom regretted his decision to sit down; he felt much like a student being scolded by a teacher. 'Or, rather, what happened in Diagon Alley after you left Hogsmeade.'

'What about it?'

'I know it was you who blew up that street and chased away the Death Eaters. I was talking about it with Viktor and it all makes sense.'

Tom blinked, trying to remember who 'Viktor' was, and then recalled the man who had pushed the child into his arms that day. 'Yes,' Tom said slowly, waiting for her to continue.

'So you don't deny it?' Hermione asked in surprise.

'Why should I?'

'Because,' Hermione explained impatiently, 'that was Dark magic that Viktor says he couldn't have managed after seven years at Durmstrang!'

'He's from Durmstrang?' Tom commented with interest sparking in his eyes. 'Really? What does he say about their curriculum? Is it true that –' He stopped talking at the quelling look Hermione was giving him. Play it innocent, Tom. Play it well-meaning.

'Surely your parents didn't teach you that sort of thing?' she asked in shock. 'I mean, it really was a very nasty piece of work from what Viktor was saying, the sort of thing a full-fledged Dark wizard would do. You know,' she continued, 'there are a lot of odd things about you.'

'Thanks,' he said sarcastically.

Hermione ignored him. 'For one thing, the fact that you just showed up at Hogwarts, and for another –'

'I believe all that's been explained,' Tom said shortly, unable to keep his irritation out of his voice.

'I'm sorry,' she sighed. 'I know it seems like I'm giving you a hard time, but I need to make sure that you're not some… some evil Dark wizard working for Voldemort.' Hermione cringed after saying the name.

Tom's mouth hung open for a few moments before he managed to speak again. 'Who… who did you just say?'

'Oh, I'm sorry!' she cried. 'I forgot that you wouldn't want to hear You-Know-Who's name. It's just that some people say it so often –'

'Wait,' Tom said sharply, getting to his feet. 'You're saying that You-Know-Who's name is Voldemort? Lord Voldemort?'

'Of course! Didn't you know?' Then she frowned as she remembered. 'No, that's right, you were hit with that Memory Charm by your father, weren't you?'

Tom ignored her immediately after she had confirmed what she had said before. Anger, indignation and disbelief were stirring in the pit of his stomach and filling his lungs. 'We should get to class,' he breathed, nostrils flaring.

'Are you all right?'

'Yes,' he said. 'Yes, I'm fine. Let's just get to class.'

Tom didn't know why he had been keeping the pill in his pocket, except that he was paranoid and figured that an excuse to get out of class could come in handy. He bit off one end of it while working with Neville on some dangerous plant whose name he couldn't recall at that moment, what with the shock flickering through his brain. Harry kept looking at him; Harry knew something was wrong. It didn't matter; Tom had to leave.

His nose began bleeding profusely only a few moments later. 'Professor Sprout,' he gasped.

Professor Sprout looked at him in alarm. 'Go on, child, up to Madame Pomfrey with you!'

'I'll go with him!' Harry said loudly.

'I'm sure Mr. Maxwell can find his way on his own, Mr. Potter. It's only a nosebleed.' The squat witch looked at Tom dubiously. He nodded and walked out without glancing at Harry again, though he could feel Harry's eyes on his back as he walked out of the greenhouse.

Tom didn't go to the Hospital Wing. He popped the other end of the Nosebleed Nougat into his mouth and, once the bleeding had stopped, he used a spell to clean his robes as he walked to Gryffindor Tower.

Once he had reached his dormitory, he rifled through the books he had bought in Diagon Alley; Dumbledore, it seemed, had been too distracted by the uproar to think to confiscate them. He settled on 'Ten Most Dangerous Dark Wizards in History' and turned to the section entitled 'He Who Must Not Be Named: Warning! Name Written In This Section!' Tom sat down on his bed and read.

Harry, not being of a paranoid or delinquent disposition, did not have a Skiving Snackbox with him, but resolved to order one from Fred and George directly and carry it around with him wherever he went from then on. He had to wait until class had ended to pursue Tom, despite several pleas to Professor Sprout, who was irritated enough with him by the end of the lesson to assign him extra work. He did not wait for Ron or Hermione, but ran out of class as soon as the bell rang and hurried up to the castle.

In the hallway, he heard a familiar sneering voice calling to him from up ahead. 'Hey, Potter! What's wrong? Lost your boyfriend?' Malfoy called, followed by the laugher of the clique of Slytherins near him. Harry ignored them completely; in fact, he nearly bowled Malfoy over as he went, and he heard an indignant cry, 'Watch where you're going!' as he turned the corner and left the Slytherins behind.

He reached the Gryffindor common room in record time and, before any of his housemates could accost him about the Witch Weekly article, he pelted up the stairs. Harry opened the door to his dormitory. 'Tom? You in here?' He shouted.

Harry looked around, but he couldn't see anyone. He was heading to his trunk to find the Marauder's Map, hoping that Tom was at least somewhere on the grounds, when he was attacked with a spell from behind and sent flying to the floor. Dazed, he couldn't fight off the assailant as his body fell on top of Harry's and one hand curled itself around his neck. He even managed to mutter a spell that tied Harry's wrists and legs together before Harry could think to fight. Then Harry found himself turned around onto his back.

'Tom?' Harry gaped. He couldn't quite believe it. 'What's this all about?'

Tom had adjusted his hand so that it was now choking Harry lightly. He could still breathe, but he was uncomfortable. 'What's this all about?' he whispered softly, a closed look in his eyes. 'Why, it's about Lord Voldemort, of course.'

'What-what do you mean?' Harry spluttered.

'It's no use trying to hide it from me any more, Harry,' he said. Harry tensed up in horror. 'Yes, that's right, I know who I am. I know who you are. I know what you did to me. Now,' Tom continued, his wand raised, 'the only question remaining is why.'

'Why what?' Harry spat. 'Why you're here? Why we gave you a second chance? Why you're ruining it?' he said as loudly as he could manage with his throat clutched in Tom's hand. 'That's the question I'd like the answer to, myself.'

'Never mind,' Tom said softly. 'I understand. It's so simple, and it was so easy for you, wasn't it, Harry?' Tom's grip on Harry's throat tightened. 'And you call me manipulative,' he sneered.

'What… are you… talking about?' Harry whispered harshly.

'You were using me to learn about him, weren't you? That's why you were so interested in my nightmares; that's why you wanted to know what they were about!' Tom was shouting lividly now. 'You and Dumbledore, you were both playing me for a fool! Well, I won't play anymore!'

'Don't,' Harry said weakly, spots dancing in his eyes. 'Please, Tom, don't… hurt… yourself...'

'Hurt myself?' Tom's grip on Harry's throat loosened, and Harry started coughing. 'It's you I intend to hurt!'

'It's not like that,' Harry gasped out between breaths. 'We lied, but it was for your good, not ours!'

'My good?' Tom's tightened his hold again, and Harry tried to move to escape, but he was bound too tightly. 'How do your lies help me, pray tell?' he spat.

For the first time, it occurred to him that Tom might actually be serious about strangling him to death. 'Let… go…' he choked.

'I want answers, Harry,' he whispered.

'Can't… breathe…' Tom loosened his grip only barely enough for Harry to breathe shallowly again. It didn't feel like enough. 'You're wrong,' Harry gasped. 'I wasn't… wasn't using you, I was protecting you –'

'Who asked you to protect me?' Tom yelled. 'I can take care of myself!'

'It would only have made you hate me if you'd known before,' Harry said, his mind clearing. 'It would have made it harder for me to watch you, to protect you, if you hated me.'

'So when were you intending to get rid of me?' he snarled. 'When were you going to tell Dumbledore you'd gotten everything useful out of me, that you were done with me, so he could finish me off? Did you two talk about it? Did you laugh at how easily you managed to ingratiate yourself to me!'

Harry noticed, looking at Tom's eyes for the first time, that he was more upset than hateful. 'Tom, I wasn't going to throw you away,' he said softly. 'I was never going to throw you away.'

'Liar!' Tom cried. He let go of Harry's throat and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. 'I hate you.'

'You don't,' Harry said gently. He pushed himself up on his bound hands until he was leaning on his elbows; Tom had backed off and was now sitting on his legs. 'You don't hate me, you like me, and I like you. You don't have to be afraid of me, Tom.'

'I'm not afraid,' Tom replied, his voice shaking.

'Then why are you doing this?'

'Because you betrayed me,' he replied, and there was such a mixture of anger and hurt in his voice that Harry couldn't tell where one emotion ended and the other began, and nor, he thought, could Tom.

'I didn't.' Harry didn't know how, but the bonds around his hands had loosened enough for him to slip out of them. He kept one on the ground to steady himself, but the other reached up to Tom's face and pressed against his warm cheek. Tom pointed his wand at Harry more insistently, but Harry ignored it – he couldn't truly believe Tom would hex him, not when he was looking at Harry so hopefully, wanting to believe him.

'You were Lord Voldemort,' Harry said, 'but I see you and him as completely different people now. I don't see his hatred and evil when I look at you. You do hate, and you can do evil things, but you haven't twisted so much that you can't feel happiness unless you're torturing or killing. There's good in you, and I would never destroy it.'

Tom was shaking more, and he turned away from Harry's hand. 'And when I do turn into that, you'll destroy me? That's what I want, Harry.' Tom turned back to him, a determined look upon his face. 'I want to become what he is. I want the power.'

'You won't become him. You can't, even if you want to. He would kill you if you tried.'

'Not if I kill him first.'

Harry felt so sad, so very sad, when he looked up at Tom's bitter, angry face. 'There are other ways to be powerful. There are other ways to not let other people hurt you again than destroying every last trace of your humanity.'

'Like what?' Tom snarled. 'I don't want to be some Ministry puppet. I'm too good for that.'

'Do you think I'm powerless, Tom?' he asked.

Tom's eyebrows raised at the question. 'You're… you're tied down under me –'

'That's not what I asked,' Harry said firmly. 'I want to know if you think I'm powerless. Don't you think I can take care of myself?'

'If even half the yarns you've spun are true, I'd have to say that you can. What's the point of this?'

'I don't intend to be a Dark Lord or a Ministry puppet. There are places in between. You can still have control over your life without destroying others. I know how important power is to you. You're a Slytherin. Power isn't so bad. Sometimes I wish I could have more of it, myself,' Harry said wryly. 'Let me in,' he continued softly. 'I won't hurt you, and I'll help protect you from anyone who would, just like I know you'd protect me. We both gain from it.'

Tom snorted. 'And what makes you sosure I'd do that? We're enemies, if you recall.'

Harry smiled. 'Because you care about me, even if you're too,' – he wanted to say 'scared' but wasn't sure how well that would go over right now – 'even if you don't like caring about me. And we're not enemies anymore; maybe we were at first, but even if you hexed me right now I wouldn't raise a finger to hurt you. I can't protect you from everything, but… but I'll try to make it worth your while to stay human. I'll try to make the good parts outweigh the bad.'

'That's quite a challenge to take upon yourself,' Tom said dryly.

'I don't want to lose you,' Harry replied frankly. He used his free hand to turn Tom to face him, and looked into his eyes. 'You're the most important person in my life.'

'You're being overly maudlin,' Tom said scornfully, but Harry could tell his heart wasn't in it. 'I'm never going to be a goody two-shoes Gryffindor,' he said stubbornly. 'If you're signing up for keeping me human, you ought to know that I have no intention of giving up my study of the Dark Arts or any other brand of magic that comes my way.'

Harry saw that it was costing Tom a lot to be this honest; he usually tried to hide his darker intentions, even from Harry. It was as if he was being warned off, and Harry couldn't help but smile. No chance of that. You should know I'm too much of a goody two-shoes Gryffindor, Tom. 'I didn't expect you to. You wouldn't be you if you did. Besides,' he grinned and shook his head, 'I think I'm too used to the wild life by now to settle down, myself. Just as long as you don't expect me to let you drown in the Dark Arts instead of study them, or expect me to stand aside and let you get into trouble without me at your back, we'll get along fine. That means no more solo battles with Death Eaters,' he added, scowling at the thought. Tom smirked and released Harry from his bonds with a flick of his wand, and they both stood up.

'Now all we need is to sign that in blood,' Tom said.

Harry wasn't entirely sure if he was serious or not. 'Let's stick with a verbal contract.'

As they were heading down to lunch, Tom pondered the bizarreness of what had just transpired. There he had been, lying in wait for Harry to come in so he could beat the stuffing out of him, put him under Imperius and use him to assassinate Dumbledore, and now they were practically skipping through a field of daisies together! He knew he should have been nauseated by it, that he should be kicking himself and promising that he wouldn't be dissuaded from his original plan no matter what he and Harry had agreed, but he couldn't bring himself to think it, not really, and he couldn't understand why.

He had to admit Harry was more than a friend to him – no pair of friends touched the way they touched, he was sure – but was he seriously considering dragging the little Gryffindor snot around with him for… how long? Forever? Would he take him to the deepest recesses of Africa, of Albania, to wherever he happened to find the power which he sought? Harry certainly wouldn't be very entertained by Tom's idea of fun. But he said he didn't expect me to change, a little voice said hopefully. He said he'd keep me human. He said he wanted to protect me; that he didn't want to lose me. Was it all to save his skin, or…?

'You're thinking too much,' Harry whispered in his ear. Tom noticed a group of girls giggling at them as they passed.

'Someone has to do the thinking,' Tom commented.

'I think,' Harry said in mock indignation.

'I don't keep you around for thinking,' Tom said dismissively.

'Really? And what do you keep me around for?' Harry whispered.

He didn't answer. Damned if I know.

The train ride out of Hogwarts that Friday was not as enjoyable as Harry might have hoped. Hermione kept staring avidly at Tom; she had been acting wary of him ever since the Diagon Alley events, and she would examine him (rudely, in Harry's opinion) for ages, as if expecting to solve some great mystery just by looking at him. Harry, who knew that there was a great mystery to solve, and that Hermione was up to solving it, was increasingly disconcerted by her. Sometimes Tom would stare back at her for a while, as if it was a game, and she would, eventually, look away. Ron was the only one trying very hard to make things pleasant, as if the train ride was some party he was hosting and it was his job to keep the guests happy. Harry tried to oblige him, but it was just no good while he had to worry about what Hermione was up to.

Finally, after they had needed to prod Hermione twice to get her mind back on their game of Exploding Snap, Harry decided he'd had enough. 'Hermione, we need to talk somewhere privately.'

'Of course, Harry,' she said, sounding partially bewildered and partially hopeful that he might answer some of her questions. Nothing doing, Hermione, he thought unhappily.

They left the compartment and found another for themselves; the train wasn't very full this year, as many parents seemed to think that their sons and daughters were safer at Hogwarts under the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore than at home. 'Hermione, it's about Tom,' Harry began.

'Yes, it is about Tom,' she agreed. 'I know there's something odd going on. Oh, yes, he has stories,' she went on, 'but I'm not sure that I believe them anymore, do you?'

'Tom's stories aren't true,' Harry agreed, 'and I know what the truth is. All of it.'

Hermione looked at him in surprise. 'Then why on earth haven't you told us? What's going on? Where did he learn all that advanced Dark magic? I asked Viktor, and he said he never saw him at Durmstrang, and even in a place like that he would be hard not to notice.'

'Do you remember when you had the Time-Turner, and you couldn't tell us about it?' Harry prodded her.

'Well, of course I couldn't!' Hermione replied defensively. 'The Ministry of Magic – not to mention Professor McGonagall – ordered me not to tell anyone, not even you.'

'Exactly,' Harry said, 'and that's the sort of fix I'm in right now with Tom's secrets, only his are more likely to cost his life if I spill them, not to mention Dumbledore's trust.'

Hermione bit her lip, wanting to say more but, he could tell, also feeling guilty. 'Hermione,' Harry said firmly, taking her hands in his and looking into her eyes, 'I know you mean well. I know you don't mean to cause Tom or me any trouble. But some secrets need to be kept. This isn't a mystery for you to solve. I want you to promise me not to go rummaging around looking for information about Tom. You probably could figure it out if you tried,' he added drolly, 'but I don't think satisfying your curiosity is worth costing Tom his safety. The fewer people that know, the less likely it is that he'll be hurt.'

Hermione nodded, looking to be near tears. 'Don't feel bad,' he urged her, 'I don't mean it in a scolding way –'

'I know, Harry,' she interrupted, looking up at him, 'but I do feel guilty about letting my curiosity get the better of me. If you say that I shouldn't go needling around in his affairs then I won't, I promise you. But I want you to promise me to be careful, because I know you two are involved – everyone does now, don't they? Lavender and Parvati are furious with you, you know,' she said, smiling and shaking her head. 'Even if the particulars of what was written were terrible falsehoods… Harry, don't let him hurt you, please? You've been through enough already.'

'He won't hurt me,' Harry smiled. 'He's had plenty of opportunity to do so, and more motive than you would believe, but he hasn't, and he won't.'

Hermione accepted this answer, and Harry was relieved that she wouldn't be prying so much anymore. They went back to the compartment together, and all four had a much better time.

Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, and several other members of the Order were there on the platform to escort Harry and the others to their destination. Harry could tell that Tom was slightly discouraged by the glowering looks he was receiving from Moody, but he didn't think it likely that Moody would be around much during their vacation, so he couldn't be too much of an issue. Harry was more worried about Remus Lupin – who wasn't there on the platform to greet them – than anyone else.

Their arrival at 12 Grimmauld Place was boisterous, and as joyous as it could possibly be for Harry considering how strongly the place reminded him of his godfather. Moody handed over a piece of paper similar to the one he'd handed Harry over a year before with extreme reluctance, making sure all present knew that, though he had the greatest respect for Dumbledore, he thought that the old man was off his rocker to be letting Tom into Grimmauld Place. Harry didn't think any of the others could possibly know who Tom was since they all acted as though Moody's unfriendliness was an embarrassment to them and were extra nice to Tom to balance things out. When they all got inside, Mrs. Weasley greeted each of them with a hug in turn – even Tom, who she had never met before. Tom was so completely floored by her that he did nothing but stare at Mrs. Weasley's back in apparent fascination as she led them into the kitchen for a late dinner while other Order members took their luggage upstairs.

Inside the kitchen they were met by Bill, Fred, George, and Lupin. Fred and George couldn't stop talking about their business and asking how things were at their old Alma Mater while their mother finished preparing dinner. Bill occasionally contributed, as well. None of the older Weasley boys were talking to Tom much since they didn't know him well, but Tom didn't seem to mind; he was still watching Mrs. Weasley, though with more apprehension in his eyes than before. Harry was surprised at how reticent Tom was being; he usually tried to impress new faces by turning on all the false charm he could spout. He had done so when they had met the Order at the station, so why not now?

Harry was only halfway paying attention to the loud, excited conversation the Weasleys were carrying on; he was all too aware of Lupin sitting in a chair in the corner, unmoving. He hadn't strung three words together since they had entered. Then Lupin stood up slowly; Harry stared at him and Lupin stared at Tom, who was staring at Mrs. Weasley. He walked over to where Harry, Tom, Ron and Hermione were sitting, and tapped Tom on the shoulder. He started at the touch and looked away from Mrs. Weasley with clear reluctance.

'Hello, Tom,' Lupin said softly, smiling kindly at him. Harry thought it strange how he could hear him so clearly even over the din of the Weasleys.

'Hello,' Tom replied.

'I'm looking forward to getting to know you over the holidays,' Lupin said.

'Yes,' Tom said, sounding nervous and lost. What's got into him? Harry wondered.

Lupin took a seat next to Harry, which was as close as he could sit to Tom, and began talking to him further. He seemed to be encouraging Tom to speak; Tom continued giving short, uncharacteristically unsure answers, still shooting furtive looks at Mrs. Weasley until she brought dinner over.

He acted no less strange over dinner. He would answer any questions posed to him quietly and politely, but especially so when Mrs. Weasley spoke to him. She asked him if he was feeling all right, and if he might want to lie down. He replied with a very soft 'I am tired, ma'am,' and Lupin offered to show him to his room. Tom accepted, and then he and Lupin were gone. What the hell is wrong? Harry thought, now very worried. Is he sick?

'Told you he's a little off, Mum,' Fred said.

'I really don't know what you see in him, Harry,' George said, shaking his head and winking at Harry surreptitiously.

'Boys!' Mrs. Weasley growled. 'I won't have you mentioning that-that filth –'

'You mean the Witch Weekly article?' Harry asked.

'Yes,' Mrs. Weasley replied. 'Oh, Harry, dear, I don't believe a word of that nonsense.'

'Part of it is true,' he offered. The whole table was gaping at him save Ron and Hermione. He figured he may as well tell them now since they were bound to find out. Better that they find out from me than from catching us in an awkward position, he thought, remembering Ron's embarrassment. 'Tom and I are in a relationship. I don't see the point in hiding that anymore.' He remembered how he had acted in front of Dumbledore when Tom was in the Hospital Wing, and felt slightly ashamed. 'None of the awful bits about him are true, though. He's really a very nice person.' This comment he directed at Fred and George, but they weren't at all affected by it.

'Oh… well…' Mrs. Weasley stuttered. 'I… that's very… that's very nice, Harry. He seems like… like a very nice –'

'He's dead boring,' George griped.

'And here I always thought you and Ron…' Fred said dramatically.

'Shut up,' Ron replied. His ears were turning red with embarrassment.

'He's anything but boring.' Harry replied. He could do with being a bit more boring, actually. 'He's brilliant, and I like him very much.'

'I didn't even realize you were gay,' Fred said. Bill and George both nodded fervently. 'You sure he hasn't got you under some evil Dark spell?'

'Positive,' Harry smiled. 'And I ought to warn you not to go walking into our room without knocking.'

Ron looked like he was going to sink under the table. Everyone else just sat with their jaws open.

'You have separate rooms, for your information!' Mrs. Weasley scolded.

'Well, that will have to be changed,' Harry said stubbornly. He wasn't going to beat around the bush; this might be the only time he and Tom would get to be together without having to worry about roommates walking in.

Mrs. Weasley looked aghast. Fred and George were looking at him as if he were their new hero; he doubted they had ever dared to tell their mother that they were sleeping in the same room as a boyfriend or girlfriend, thank-you-very-much. But she wasn't his mother, and this wasn't even her house, and he wasn't backing down. She seemed to be realizing these facts herself as she stared at him.

'Very well,' she said gruffly, making as if to clean up the plates. 'If you must, I suppose I can't stop you.'

'I don't mean to make trouble,' Harry said, trying to appease her. He didn't want Mrs. Weasley cross with him; he appreciated her concern, very deep down. 'It's just that Tom and I are very close –'

'You've only known him a few months!' she protested, unable to stop herself.

'I know,' he said, running a hand through his hair. 'I can't explain it in words, but it feels like he and I have known each other a lot longer than that. Haven't you ever had that feeling when… when you can't even remember what life was like before you met someone? It's like that,' he finished lamely. 'Anyway, I just thought you should know.'

'Well, thank you for telling me, at least,' she said. His answer seemed to have appeased her somewhat; it was as if she did understand what he meant, about not remembering how life had felt before meeting a particular person. She looked at Ron and Hermione, as if expecting them to make some announcement, but both were very quiet.

They all helped Mrs. Weasley put away the dishes. Lupin came back in when they were nearly finished, and Mrs. Weasley rushed to him, speaking to him in short whispers that Harry knew concerned him, and it made him annoyed. Lupin looked at Harry with nothing short of pale-faced shock and, seeing that he had Harry's attention, he motioned him out of the room. May as well get it over with, Harry sighed.

Harry walked out of the room on Lupin's heels; they continued walking in silence until they reached the drawing room. Harry and Lupin took seats across from each other, and Harry waited for the berating to begin.

He had been expecting a Sirius-like explosion, but he had forgotten that Lupin's manner had never been like that of his godfather. 'Harry, I'm not going to bother telling you to stop this relationship,' he said frankly. Harry's eyebrows raised in astonishment. 'I know I won't be able to convince you because I, unlike Molly,' he said with an ironic grin, 'remember what it was like when I was your age, and I know that any scolding I could give you would only serve to alienate us and attach you more to Tom. Am I right?'

'You're right, sir,' Harry said honestly. He was amazed at how… cool Lupin was being about him being in a romantic relationship with Tom Riddle.

'So all I'm going to say is that if you ever have problems, I want you to come straight to me or to Dumbledore. Is that clear?'

'Yes, sir,' Harry replied. He probably would have agreed to almost anything at that point; he was still happily surprised that he wasn't getting yelled at.

'Good.' Lupin said, managing to smile at Harry despite the subject they were discussing. And that was that.

Tom woke up from his nap to find himself engulfed in darkness, with Harry nowhere in sight, nor the werewolf. Lupin had stayed with him while he fell asleep, as if suspicious that he was trying to skive off to read up on Unforgivables or something. Tom really had been tired, but that wasn't the reason he had left; he had been unnerved since the moment that woman, Mrs. Weasley, had thrown her arms around him in greeting. He had hardly ever been hugged before, and certainly not by people he had just met. It had reminded him painfully of…

Before he could shake them out of his head, the opening of the door swept the unhappy memories under the proverbial rug. Harry came in, shutting the door quietly behind him and tiptoeing toward the bed as though trying not to wake Tom. 'Harry?' Tom whispered.

'Sorry,' he whispered back. 'I didn't mean to wake you.'

'I was already awake,' Tom said, louder than a whisper this time since, for once, there was no one around for them to wake up.

'Are you feeling okay?' Harry asked as he stripped.

'Yes,' Tom replied softly, watching Harry out of half-lidded eyes. 'I'm just tired.'

Then he remembered something he had wanted to ask Harry about and sat bolt upright, startling both of them. 'Harry,' he said urgently. 'I wanted to ask you something about Voldemort… the other Voldemort, I mean.' It was something that Tom had been turning around in his head ever since he had found out his identity, something that just didn't add up.

'What is it?'

'Why did he try to kill you when you were a baby? It seems to me that it you'd be a pretty minor inconvenience to warrant him going to all that trouble to kill you.'

Here it comes, Harry thought, bracing himself. 'The answer to that question involves quite a lot of explaining. Are you sure you're up for it?'

'Definitely,' Tom said.

'Okay.' Harry took a deep, steadying breath before climbing into bed, getting under the covers to protect himself from the chill air. He and Tom faced each other, Tom looking at him expectantly. The room was dark, but Harry could still feel Tom's curiosity burning his skin. 'It's like this…'

Harry told Tom everything, including the Prophecy – which he emphasized he hadn't told anyone else. Tom took it all in seriously. It took Harry a good bit of work to be able to tell him the Prophecy at all; his work at Occlumency with Snape had involved placing that particular bit of information firmly behind several mental locks to protect it from any invasion Voldemort might try to make, and it was a while before he could unlock and then relock it again.

'So it's either him or you, then?' Tom said finally, after hearing the Prophecy from Harry several times.

'It seems so,' Harry said gravely.

'It…you don't think it might apply to the two of us, do you?' Tom asked.

'No,' Harry replied. 'I've thought about that. You never marked me as your equal; my parents never defied you. That was all long after your time, so it couldn't possibly have to do with you.'

Tom seemed to relax a bit when he heard that. 'So we have to off him, then,' he said simply.

Harry couldn't help but smile; that had to be the definition of 'easier said than done.' 'I have to off him,' Harry corrected him.

'As if I'd let you have that much fun without me,' Tom smirked in the dark.

Harry's smile broadened; it felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest just by talking to Tom about it. Then, feeling as if there couldn't possibly be a better time to ask, he said, 'Could I ask you something?'

Tom was quiet. 'You're… I think I know what you're going to ask me,' he said slowly, 'and I'm willing to explain about my dreams, if you really want to know so desperately –'

'I do,' Harry said fervently,

' – but I'd like to wait until we get back to Hogwarts,' Tom concluded.

Harry's face fell, though Tom probably couldn't see it. 'Why?' he asked. It seemed to him like Tom was just putting it off again. Tom didn't have nightmares nearly so frequently when Harry was sleeping with him, but Harry still wanted to know what they were all about in the first place.

'I… there's something there that I think would make it easier,' he said evasively. 'I think you would understand more if I explained there.'

'I've waited this long,' Harry sighed, 'so I guess I can wait a little longer.'

'Thank you,' Tom breathed. He turned over and Harry spooned up behind him, their preferred sleeping position of late. 'Thank you.'