Ice crept over Tom's lips and a coldness, so utterly incomprehensible flooded down his throat. His breath was stolen, suspended against Harry's frosted mouth as Tom's vision blinked in dizzying swirls of light.
It was suffocating, and there was nothing Tom could do as his body wilted into Harry's hold. Harry moved deliberately slowly, each movement so horrifyingly agonising as he showed no apparent hurry to tease out Tom's soul.
The kiss deepened, teeth scratching into Tom's lips, bruising them as Harry's took one long rattling breath. Tom could practically taste the decay. He gagged, eyes rolling as his soul tugged sharply, responding to Harry's merciless call.
It could have been a lifetime or a heartbeat, Tom didn't know. Oblivion was less than a breath away.
There was no warning.
Harry pulled back abruptly, breaking their mouths apart. His fingers tightened as his unbandaged left eye dilated slightly.
Tom's throat burned, his cry silent as his body trembled with a fresh burst of life, but he was offered no reprieve against Harry's uncompromising chill. Tom's head lolled forwards, missing the faint recognition which flickered onto Harry's face.
Then a whisper, so dry, yet so clear that there could be no mistake.
XXXXXXXXXX
Harry's lips seared with a sharp needle like pain. It blossomed in patches, spreading over his mouth in angry blisters leaving only traces of anything desirable. Harry released his prey with a single clumsy exhale. His unseeing eye wavered, while Harry's other found swollen lips and a sight so achingly familiar that he thought his heart would burst.
It wasn't possible.
Harry choked, his voice coming out in a strangled cry.
"T-Tom?"
Tom stayed perfectly still beneath him, his face stained and expression broken as his chest breathed in and out heavily. There was a long pause, in which Harry received no reply.
"Y-yeah. It's me."
Hot breath washed across Harry's face.
It was intoxicating and so sickeningly wrong.
Harry slammed his hand over his mouth as he jerked backwards, but he didn't make it very far. Thick bonds weaved around bandaged wrists, locking his joints harshly in place. Which left no more than an arms length between him and Tom's tantalisingly close soul.
Harry's resolve wavered. He gulped down a tight raspy breath, desperately trying to focus on his only distraction.
"I...I can't see properly."
And it wasn't due to his lack of glasses or the cold white light of the painfully familiar hospital room. Harry's vision was perfectly clear in his left eye. It was his right that was the problem. Everything was dull and black. His fingers gazed across something foreign.
Burning hands seized Harry's, but Tom was too late as Harry tore the bandage away from his face.
"Don't-" Tom's voice vanished in a sharp intake of air. But that was the least of Harry's worries.
"I still can't see-"
Tom reached out, his body leaning as far back as possible as he placed shaking hands on either side of Harry's shoulders.
He twisted him around.
A solid mirror stretched out across the back wall's entirety. It was an addition since Harry's last instalment in St Mungo's, yet a deliberate replacement of what had once kept Harry whole. This mirror however, showed nothing of his hearts desire.
Harry's mouth fell agape as he blinked back at his disfigured face. Nothing was left to the imagination.
Harry's right eye was dead, and not just the pupil, the whole eye. Black and shrouded in mist. It was surrounded by scorched ashen coloured skin which ran across the right hand side of his face and crept down the side of his neck. His scar was dulled, lined against his forehead like a scabbed splinter.
Harry's left hand side of the face was otherwise normal, his remaining bright green eye stared back in horror. Harry held out his wand hand, inspecting withered fingers. Loose bandages circled all the way up past his wrist, covering the now decaying wound Riddle had given him.
Harry made to pull up his shirt but Tom's arms wrapped around from behind him.
"Don't-" Tom whispered.
But Harry had to see, and there was no point delaying the inevitable. Harry prized Tom's fingers away, as he took a steady rattling breath.
It was worse than he'd imagined.
There was a gaping hole in his chest, oozing in an impossible darkness. It lay directly over where his heart should have been. Harry stared, his ears pounding from an impossible heartbeat as his clear vision rushed to black. His dead veins only made it sickeningly obvious that it wasn't blood that was pumping around his body.
Tom staggered, encompassed in darkness as he slipped down onto the side of the bed. He gripped the edge, his own eyes fluttering shut as he turned deadly pale.
"Tom?"
Harry spun around, sensing Tom's frantic soul now more than ever as his skin burned under Harry's touch.
"A-am I doing that?"
Tom cracked an eye open offering a weak smile but it was free from any warmth.
"Tell me how to stop it," Harry said as he gripped Tom's shirt. "I want it to stop."
Tom shook his head, his words coming out slow and disjointed.
"Dementors glory in decay, they feed off things that are good-"
"This isn't good," Harry said as he gripped Tom's limp body. Tom opened his mouth, his words barely making any sound as his eyes fluttered shut once more.
"Then find something that is-"
Something good. Harry pulled at Tom desperately, his withered hand skirting across Tom's achingly slowing pulse, itching to feel some life, because what was better than having Tom back. It had been his hearts desire and there had been nothing Harry craved more.
Except that wasn't true any more. There was something far more potent that Harry wanted above all else, despite being basically the same thing.
Harry fingers loosened ever so slightly from Tom's shirt as his mouth twitched into a grin despite himself.
"A dæmon," Harry whispered.
He'd never known such wholeness, and it had been so enticing as Quirrell's soul became his. It was such a warm, pleasant feeling that he couldn't help but sink into it. If only he was back with Voldemort, with Riddle, with Harry's knees pressed into the snow as Quirrell presented Harry the most precious gift.
It was enough to calm Harry as he sunk back, attention wavering and seeking one thing only. But the room held nothing of true importance.
Harry attention slipped back to Tom. Tom's face remained determined, but it had clearly been enough. Tom was burning with life again, his eyes wide and alert. But this time Harry didn't care. He had Tom. Like really had him.
"I didn't think they would give you back to me," Harry whispered.
Tom didn't say anything. Instead, he tugged Harry properly close, so that they were tangled up on the small bed, limbs entwined in each other and inseparable. Colour seemed to be returning to Tom's cheeks as and his resolve in turn seemed stronger.
"How did the aurors know where you were?" Harry asked.
Tom looked to the swirling basin which stood at the end of their bed, he took a moment to answer.
"The Ministry extracted your memories, they've seen everything" Tom said slowly.
A shame, so deep flooded into Harry as he turned his head away. He didn't reply, instead he only nodded mutely, unable to admit what he'd shared. His next question hung awkwardly on his lips.
"How did the aurors find me?"
Here Tom's eyes narrowed.
Harry understood as his gaze fell from Tom's gaze.
"Oh-"
"He did this to you," Tom spat, fist curling as his body shook. "Don't you dare think he is in anyway justified, just because he sent you somewhere where the aurors could pick you up-"
"No-" Harry said, his voice strangely flat. "If Riddle alerted the Ministry it was to spite Voldemort only. Riddle never cared for me-"
Tom's anger was cut short as Harry pulled his arms around himself, his own knees drawn up tight.
Why did it hurt so much.
Tom reached tentatively out, but he faltered.
He was on the brink of sinking back into his comatosed state, his own anger barely enough to hold him on the edge of consciousness as he became instantly cold to Harry's touch.
Harry tried to settle, to hang onto any happy thought, but the doubt was crawling at his mind making it impossible to resurface.
Tom's cool finger's wound weakly around Harry's right wrist, and with it came them most intense of feelings that Harry had known only a few times before from both Tom and Riddle.
Harry's mind went blank as he buried himself into Tom's embrace. He didn't care that his own want was compromised, all that mattered was that it was him and Tom. Together.
Only that wasn't completely true.
Harry stiffened, the hair standing up on the back of his neck as he swivelled around. Where the mirror had been previously, there was now a room occupied by two wizards.
It was like flipping a switch.
Harry's lips parted, his pupil widening as his mouth split into a haunted grin. He scrambled off the bed, knocking Tom aside, only for his arms to contort against restraints.
There were two dæmons, each one twinkling in beautiful golden dust. Harry reacted on instinct, breath harrowing as he tried to draw more than air from his surroundings.
Nala hissed as she clung by Scrimgeour's side as the other dæmon remained so dangerously close. A red kite, her feathers ruffled, with her forked tail split. One of her wings had been ripped off. This dæmon would never fly again but that didn't matter, she would still taste the same.
"Harry!"
Tom seized Harry's shoulders, twisting him away from the tantalising gold.
"Harry, look at me-"
Harry lashed out, his hand moving to yank Tom's mouth against his own. But this time Harry was not a slave to his instincts.
Tom's soul was different.
"Don't interfere," Harry snarled.
Tom's eyes hardened, his jaw set defiantly shut, but he didn't back down. Instead he snaked his hand around the back of Harry's neck, locking them together.
"If you're going to devour a soul, take mine," Tom hissed.
Harry mouth parted despite himself, but he didn't draw breath. All the fear was gone from Tom's eyes as his mouth curled into a triumphant smirk.
"You can't do it, can you? You can't devour my soul?"
Harry stilled, relishing the challenge as his own mouth curled to match Tom's own.
"Don't tempt me-"
Harry reached out slowly. His withered hand running over Tom's pale cheek to trace against the corners of Tom's mouth. Tom flinched, clearly not anticipating this tender emotion, but Harry ignored him as his dead eye narrowed.
There was still nothing, not even a flicker of the beautiful glisten of dust. Even the intrusive white light, Harry could understand, but this wrong, there should be no visible difference between souls, and yet there was.
Harry looked past Tom's darkness warily, only to see Nala and Moody's dæmon were still clear to everything else in his otherwise empty surroundings.
And there was something else, a thin loose link, one that Harry had not noticed previously. It was like a chain of particles, bonding Nala straight to Scrimgeour's being. Scrimgeour himself was absent to Harry's broken eye, but he could see where his dæmon was anchored.
The red kite was different, her light contained only within herself, no strand trailed off to connect to Moody, which meant one thing only. Moody could separate himself from his dæmon.
Yet there was no light between Harry and Tom, not so much as a glisten.
Tom curled his fingers around Harry's own which were still pressed against Tom's mouth. Harry lent closer in response, capturing Tom in his hold as his left eye focused on sharp outlines.
In the corner of his vision, the cat slunk away, flicking into its white cowardly protection as her anchor vanished.
Harry fell away as he raised his own hands uselessly. Tom slipped beside him, just as affected as he nearly collapsed then and there.
Harry could feel his influence receding, held against something much more terrible and intrusive. It radiated from Nala in waves of white light, overpowering his very existence.
"No patronus'-" Tom hissed.
For whatever reason, Scrimgeour complied as he lowered his wand, allowing Nala to return to her more enticing form, but it was clear that the two aurors had not been spared from Harry's presence.
Scrimgeour looked sickeningly pale while even Moody's blue eye was leaping at shadows.
Tom scrambled up to hold himself defiantly in front of Harry.
"Get your dæmons out," Tom hissed.
"They should stay," Harry's mouth split into a delirious grin as he peered over Tom's shoulder. "I promise I won't eat them."
It was a twisted lie, and enough to make even the red kite ruffle her feathers.
Scrimgeour however didn't look surprised.
"Potter still desires you."
"He also showed that he can control himself," Tom snapped. "Surely that has to count for something?"
Scrimgeour didn't agree or disagree, instead his focus shifted solely onto Harry.
"Can you hear me, Potter?" Scrimgeour asked.
Harry's left eye moved to Scrimgeour, while his right stayed skimming back and forth between Tom's absent dust and Nala's beautiful sheen. Harry nodded slowly.
Nala ducked down so that her belly rubbed against the floor, her eyes diverted as she tried to make herself as small a target as possible.
"What do you see?" Scrimgeour said.
This time, Harry didn't answer. The dæmons were so perfect, that any attempts to describe them died in his throat.
Moody noticed, for his own wand twitched.
"He can see Itzel," Moody grunted.
"Can he now?" Scrimgeour said softly.
The red kite rustled her feathers, her beady eye not once breaking contact with Harry. She looked very much like she was eyeing his dead eye, as if she could peck it out if she was fast enough. Harry dared her to try.
Tom's voice tight, his eyes squeezing shut ever so briefly.
"You said that if Harry was human-" Tom's voice halted, the fear shooting between them. "You said that the Minister would talk."
Scrimgeour regarded them both.
"I did."
Tom had gone completely rigid, as he remained between Harry and the dæmons.
"Have you seen enough?" Tom's voice held strong despite the terror that he flicked to Harry.
"For now," Scrimgeour nodded, glancing over Harry once more.
Tom's shoulder's sagged, but there was no relief, not that Harry noticed for he was already focused on Nala and Itzel again.
XXXXXXXXXX
The room was bathed in a dim light, barely reflecting the simple outline of the few items which occupied it. Tom lay on the single hospital bed, his eyes shut as Harry stood watching from across the other side of the room.
It must have been early, but Harry's eyes were alert as they focused in the darkness. He preferred it, it was relatively peaceful considering he didn't have much need to sleep any more.
Harry pushed off the wall, placing one foot in front of the other as he inched ever closer to the bed. Tom stirred, twisting onto his back, he mumbled something but Harry didn't quite catch it.
Harry came to a stop so that they were only inches apart, he could almost taste Tom's very essence. Harry closed his eyes, breathing softly. To Tom's credit he remained deadly still, the only sign which showed he'd not been in a peaceful sleep.
But Tom remained unbothered as the room grew steadying colder.
"You know you don't affect me when you're happy," Tom mumbled.
Harry lent down so that he was level with Tom's face, his chin resting on the end of Tom's pillow as his darkness danced across Tom's exposed skin.
"How does that make sense?" Harry asked. "You said dementors feed on good things?"
Tom's eyes flicked open, his eyes reflected only slightly in the darkness.
"They do, but they're also countered by happy thoughts. You know when Nala goes white-"
Harry nodded tightly.
"When she's under the patronus charm, it protects her from dementors, it allows her to fight back," Tom said. "I think the same applies to you. You're more human when you're happy."
Harry wrinkled his nose as he drummed his fingers on the edge of the bed.
"That doesn't make any sense, I want dæmons, I'm more like a dementor when they're close. That makes me happy."
Tom sat up and even in the dim light, Harry could see his shoulder's tense as his gaze didn't quite meet Harry's.
"What?" Harry asked as he tilted his head, his withered fingers reaching out to trail across Tom's hand.
"Nothing," Tom said quietly. "It doesn't matter."
It had been five days since they had been reunited and five days where Harry and Tom had managed to stay in close proximity with each other. The healers however had been challenging enough, unlike the aurors, not all of them could summon patronus'.
Harry didn't get a chance to press any further as a loud buzzing started, reverberating around their room as they were suddenly plunged into light.
Tom squinted, hand shadowing his eyes as Harry covered his left.
"It's too early for the healers," Tom said slowly.
"I'm not complaining," Harry said as he stood, eager as always for the presence of dæmons.
Tom placed his back against the far mirrored wall, he waited for Harry to do the same.
Thin metal wires weaved out, wrapping themselves around Harry's wrists only. Tom was spared any restraint as the door appeared on the far side of the room.
It was Dumbledore and more importantly, Fawkes.
The phoenix flew into the room, leaving a path of glistening dust in his wake. Harry sucked in a tight breath, watching in wonder as the bird landed on the end of the bed. Fawkes gave a shrill cry which reverberated against Harry's lingering chill.
Harry pulled at his restraints, ignoring the hot wire which sunk into his flesh.
"Get out," Tom snapped at once, taking a step forwards.
Fawkes cried out once more, seemingly in an attempt to protect Dumbledore. But it wasn't enough, the headmaster was trapped in hollow memories as he took a cautious step further into their prison.
"I said," Tom hissed, eyes flashing as his fists clenching at his sides. "Get out."
Dumbledore held up both hands and bowed his head slightly as Harry was overwhelmed in the Headmaster's lingering guilt.
"It's only natural to be afraid, Tom-"
"What do you know?" Tom snapped, his magic flaring so that the magically radiating light flickered, sending them back into darkness.
Dumbledore waved his wand allowing the cold light to reappear.
"I understand this is difficult," Dumbledore said. "I would have left Fawkes behind if it were possible, but these surroundings are protected, for Harry's sake of course. It would be overwhelming to him if he could sense how many dæmons are in this building."
Harry's attention shot up at this, his mouth curling into an excited grin.
"They're more deamon's here?"
But Dumbledore never had a chance to answer, no sooner had he opened his mouth did the door melt back into existence.
"Where's Dumbledore?" a loud voice demanded.
Fudge stormed into the room, followed closely by Scrimgeour and Moody.
It was fortunate Harry was restrained for he'd never seen so many dæmons together at once. His dead eye burned with the influx of light, darting back and forth between each dæmon in turn. Tom gripped his shoulder. Not that it mattered, Harry could already see them all.
Fudge seemed just as effected as his dæmon curled up at his feet as any composure he had vanished. He stared at Harry, his mouth falling open as his own expression glossed over with a fear so tantalising that Harry could nearly taste his soul.
Gracia nipped Fudge's leg, causing him to curse as his attention landed swiftly back to Dumbledore.
"Who let you in?" Fudge fumed at Dumbledore.
Scrimgeour however only nodded his head curtly.
"I did, sir."
Fudge seemed lost for words for a moment, before he turned back to Dumbledore, jabbing his finger sharply.
"We've already discussed this, Dumbledore. I don't know what you expect to happen?" Fudge seethed. "I will not allow Potter to be free, not now."
Dumbledore smiled all too pleasantly as he clasped his hands together.
"And I am all to happy to remind you again, Cornelius, the Ministry has no authority over who is permitted to attend Hogwarts and as I have been named Harry's legal guardian, I need no additional permission to discharge him from St Mungo's."
"You - you cannot be serious," Fudge gasped, shaking his head as Gracia growled. "You cannot take Potter to Hogwarts. If the magical community got wind of what has happened-"
"As Hogwarts will remain closed for the remainder of the term, then I can see no better place for Harry and Tom to be housed. I have already made the appropriate arrangements," Dumbledore said, his voice rising slightly as Fudge spun his hat in his hands. "Of course, I have no doubt that you will want to confirm yourself that the environment is suitable."
"And when Hogwarts reopens in September?" Fudge spluttered.
"Then I am confident that Harry will be more than capable than cooperating with his fellow students."
Fudge actually dropped his hat, his face twisting into an unpleasant scowl.
"The boy cannot control himself!"
"Not currently, however," Dumbledore smiled. "We have always been accommodating at Hogwarts to those under difficult circumstances-"
Fudge couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Werewolves and half-giants are not the same, Dumbledore," Fudge had actually turned white as he jabbed his finger towards Tom. "And don't even get me started on him. I can hardly allow his freedom now that You Know Who is back. There would be riots."
"You were happy to move Harry back to Hogwarts when he didn't have Tom's support, I see his condition as very much improved," Dumbledore answered. "And let's not forget that Tom has already made it clear where his loyalties lie."
Tom's knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists, but his lips remained firmly tight.
"We made a mistake, Cornelius," Dumbledore continued. "Ever since Lord Voldemort revealed himself we know that Tom is not our true enemy. This is our chance to make things right again."
Fudge sat back bitterly and crossed his arms.
"No, no and no, Albus. I will not allow it. Potter is uncontrollable."
"Uncontrollable? I believe that Tom has already demonstrated that he is just as capable as Riddle at manipulating Harry. And let us not forget, the dementors are also capable of listening to orders. I see no reason why Harry cannot be reasoned with."
Again, Tom's eyes narrowed, his pulse hammering but he didn't let out a single sound.
"Potter can't-" Fudge started again, he looked around at his colleagues, hoping to gain some support.
"Potter is certainly resilient," Scrimgeour said. "I've no doubt that he'll be able to learn how to control his- ah, how should I put it- his new ability."
"With the right training," Moody grunted.
"The boy is demented," Fudge seethed looking like the three other wizards had gone absolutely mad.
"Half demented," Dumbledore corrected with a smile. "And I think that makes the world of difference."
"We'll see what the school governors have to say about this-"
Again Dumbledore just smiled. "Please do, I'm more than confident they'll be accommodating to Harry's condition. They were so before. Now, Cornelius, if you wish to discuss this further I'm more than happy to do so, but right now my priority is to transport Harry safely to Hogwarts."
"I will not allow it. Stop him."
Neither Scrimgeour or Moody raised their wands.
"Dumbledore's right, Minister," Scrimgeour said. "He's perfectly in his right to remove Potter. I've spoken to the healers and they are more than comfortable that Potter's condition has improved exponentially-"
The Minister turned a nasty shade of purple.
"And Riddle-"
"Stays with Potter," Scrimgeour said. "Of course, there are still circumstances to work out, but I certainly believe it is do-able."
"If you really think - then I want Potter guarded constantly-" Fudge just about managed.
"Do you really believe you can spare a number of your aurors now Lord Voldemort has returned?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.
"You're the one who wants to put lives at risk, Albus."
"Oh no, you misunderstand. I fully support Harry being supervised, I merely think there is a much better candidate, one who would not hesitate to stay by Harry's side always."
Every pair of eyes slipped in one direction only.
Tom's silence was broken in a single word, his mouth parting in disbelief.
"Me?"
Dumbledore lowered his head, surveying Tom carefully.
"I trust you have the dedication to stop Harry if necessary?" Dumbledore said.
Tom only nodded slowly.
"Not possible," Fudge seethed. "Riddle does not have the capability. He can't even summon a patronus."
"Does he need one?" Dumbledore pleasantly.
Scrimgeour paused eyeing Tom up carefully.
"No."
"That's settled then," Dumbledore said brightly, even though from Fudge's expression it was anything but. "Of course, I'm happy to discuss any other concerns you may have in my office at a more appropriate time."
Dumbledore turned to them, drawing his wand suddenly as Fawkes cooed softly.
"I'm sorry, but it's safer if Harry is transported unconscious."
Tom gripped Harry's hand tightly.
"It's okay, I won't let you go."
Harry wasn't ready for the onslaught as three dæmons flicked to white.
XXXXXXXXXX
Harry's footsteps echoed down the empty corridor as he retraced the same steps he'd taken months ago. Tom walked slowly ahead of him, his shoulders tense as they approached their destination.
Last summer, despite Harry and Tom spending a month alone in the castle, they would still run into the occasional teacher, or even Hagrid who spent most of his time pottering around the grounds with Ilaria. Now, only Dumbledore was left, and Hogwarts remained deafening quiet. Even the portrait's, who were usually alive with chatter, watched solemnly as they passed.
There wasn't a single dæmon for miles. Harry didn't know if it was peaceful or infuriating. Tom came to a halt outside a girls bathroom. The entrance to the Chamber.
"Is this where-"
Tom nodded, but he didn't step across the barred threshold, instead he teetered on the edge underneath the large stone arch.
"I knew Riddle was in the castle. And yet I still went- I still followed the voice-"
Tom's voice faltered, his gaze unmistakably shifting to land on Harry's ashen skin.
"This should never have happened."
Harry shook his head, staring at the now dismantled sinks and the gaping hole which led into the ground.
"It was Voldemort's plan from the start, the night we fled the manor, Riddle just delayed the inevitable," Harry felt oddly calm to admit that now.
"That doesn't matter," Tom said as he clenched his fists. "I should have done more."
Harry couldn't help but grin at this, causing Tom's resolve to falter.
"How were you supposed to know Riddle had control of a basilisk?" Harry said, prodding Tom in his side. "Go on, try and find a way to blame yourself for that."
Instead of lightening the mood, Tom's expression darkened.
"It's my job to keep you safe."
A trickle of unease spiked between them.
"No, it's not," Harry said quietly. "It's your job to make sure I don't eat any dæmons."
Tom froze, watching Harry carefully before he stepped closer. He linked their fingers together making sure not to touch the worst of Harry's distorted skin.
"Does it bother you?" Tom asked.
"Would you really stop me," Harry muttered, thinking back to what Dumbledore had said. "If I wanted a dæmon?"
Tom paused momentarily.
"If you did take another dæmon would you become a full dementor?" he asked.
"I don't think so," Harry said. "I feel more normal than I have since Lyra left. Not complete, but I don't feel as weak any more."
Tom squeased his hand gently.
"You were never weak, Harry."
"But I was less," Harry countered. "I was at the mercy of both you and Riddle, without Lyra my own judgement was clouded, I was incapable of my thoughts, my own actions. I haven't been stable since she left, how could I have been. I had lost my soul, Tom."
Harry stared down at his deformed skin, his hands so pale and ashen still held in Tom's own.
"But now, I feel strong. I see how their dæmons flinch away from me, I know that I want them all," a slight smile tugged at Harry's mouth. "I'd forgotten what it was like to be balanced."
"You're still not balanced," Tom said quietly. "Not while you're without Lyra."
Harry nodded slowly, before he tilted his head.
"You know you never answered my question," he prompted. "Would you stop me?"
Tom sighed, letting go of Harry's hands as he lent back into the archway.
"That depends on who it is," Tom relented at last.
"Nala?" Harry tested with a grin.
Tom was silent momentarily before he too broke out in a thin smile.
"Scrimgeour's mine."
"Fawkes then?"
Tom laughed.
"Sure, if you think you can take Dumbledore."
Speaking of Dumbledore, Harry looked back to the dismantled chamber entrance.
"Dumbledore said the basilisk was destroyed," Harry said.
Tom shrugged his shoulders.
"As much of an honour it would have been to have one of the founders himself still within the school, it's not exactly practicable."
"I guess," Harry said a funny expression crossing his face. "I just don't understand how Slytherin ended up like that. Surely, it would be better to die together with his dæmon than to be alone."
Tom tilted his head at odd expression haunting his face.
"People do odd things. Take Ginny for example, she chose to give her soul to Riddle," Tom said.
There was a deliberate pause as Harry shifted uncomfortably under Tom's burning gaze, but Harry didn't take the bait.
"How's Gallian?" Harry asked instead.
Surprisingly, Tom actually smiled.
"Fine apparently, the Minister could detect nothing wrong with him. They don't know it was Ginny who was originally writing to Riddle. I don't think Ginny remembers anything either."
If Harry had a heart, it would have thumped in his chest.
"So Lyra-"
"Should be okay."
Harry sunk back against the opposite wall, his eyes shutting momentarily as he exhaled casting the corridor in a ghostly chill.
"Good-"
However Harry's next words stopped, as his gaze shot instantly upwards.
"Harry?" Tom's nails dug in slightly, his own stance rigid as he braced for the worst.
Harry remained oddly calm as his dead eye fixated on the cat which had suddenly appeared and was now prowling around a floor above them.
"I can see Nala," Harry breathed, a half smile tugging at the side of his mouth.
"Scrimgeour's here?" Tom asked sharply.
Harry nodded, as he automatically started in the direction of the stairs.
Tom dragged his heels behind, but he didn't protest or let go of Harry. Who else would Scrimgeour be here to see.
XXXXXXXXX
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, looking far more comfortable than his guest.
He smiled pleasantly when Harry and Tom entered which certainly wasn't returned as Harry found himself once again withheld from approaching by magic.
At the sight of Harry, Nala extracted her claws as she snarled, back arching as her fur stood on end. Scrimgeour himself gripped the edge of Dumbledore's desk, his face grimacing as Nala protested her discomfort.
"Good you're here," Scrimgeour grunted.
"What do you want?" Tom asked flatly, as his gaze flicked briefly over Harry's new restraints.
Scrimgeour looked briefly annoyed, he straightened his robes as he nodded across to Dumbledore.
"We've had some complications with the reopening of Hogwarts in September," Scrimgeour said. He didn't wait for a response, ignoring the concerned expression on Tom's face as he levelled his own piercing gaze.
"Given the growing threat, the Minister has approved the use of dementors for the schools protections."
"Dementors at Hogwarts?" Tom said sharply, his alarm shooting through Harry. "Because of Voldemort?"
Even Harry tore his gaze away briefly from Nala.
"The Minister is adamant that the dementors are one of the best tools for protecting the castle from harm. Of course, this will allow the aurors to focus our attention on the main priority of actively seeking out Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, but it may impact on any arrangements regarding you, Potter," Scrimgeour explained.
"What's wrong with dementors protecting Hogwarts?" Harry asked Tom. "If they can guard a prison why not protect a school?"
"Dementors are dark creatures, they're Voldemort's natural ally," Tom answered after a short pause. "Their allegiance won't remain with the Ministry. It's a mistake letting them near students."
Harry stared at this, brow knitting together.
"Why?"
Again, Tom seemed hesitant to respond.
"Voldemort would let you have all the souls you want."
Harry stared at this, his own want flaring as he dared to dream.
"All the dæmons I want?" he tested.
Tom didn't meet his eye this time as he nodded, instead he shot Dumbledore a fiercely cold look.
"I'm surprised you agreed to this."
"Unfortunately, the Ministry has insisted it is a necessity," Dumbledore said. The blue twinkle in his eyes had vanished. "However, I will never allow the dementors onto the school grounds under any circumstance. They will remain at a controlled distance."
"I still don't like it," Tom said crossing his arms.
At Harry's confusion, Tom sighed, his shoulder's sagging.
"Lyra won't be able to come back to you. She'd never make it past the dementors."
Harry shifted back slightly against his restraints, unease growing with every icy breath.
Tom however had already turned his attention back to the two wizards.
"There's something else though?" Tom pressed.
Scrimgeour's eyebrow rose.
"The Minister has a request of you."
Tom blinked, he looked genuinely surprised.
Scrimgeour cleared his throat as he restrained his robes.
"He has asked if you would make a public statement condemning the Dark Lord and pledging your support to the Ministry and the Minister himself."
A flash of anger shot between them, so Harry was surprised when Tom smiled, his expression disturbingly false.
"Let me guess, the Minister wants my statement to tie in with the time the Ministry finally decide to lift the press blackout on Voldemort's return?"
Nala bristled, her tail flicking as she looked away from Harry's fierce gaze.
"These things have to be done carefully," Scrimgeour explained. "It is a very delicate situation after all, if we haven't thought through any repercussions-"
"Like when you stuck us in the guillotine," Tom said.
Scrimgeour did not speak for a moment, but his expression hardened instantly.
"I don't think you realise how precarious your situation is, the wizarding community will no longer support your bond, not now. A half dementor, in a school with their children. It won't matter who you are. No, it's in your best interests to cooperate."
"In the Ministry's best interests," Tom corrected, he looked from Dumbledore to Scrimgeour with deliberate calmness.
"What is your answer?" Scrimgeour asked.
Harry was the only one apparent of Tom's rage, it was difficult to keep his expression straight.
"I'll think about it," Tom said lightly. "Is that all?"
Scrimgeour paused, unsure whether he should accept Tom's answer. However, he grunted all the same, finally nodding his head towards an item lying on Dumbledore's desk.
And then Harry realised the real reason for Tom's apparent compliance.
"I've come to give you this," Scrimgeour said.
A wand.
Tom stepped forwards, trepidation shooting between them. He took it eagerly, balancing it carefully in his palm as he tested its weight. It was clearly satisfactory for Harry felt his trickle of genuine delight. Tom was clearly itching to try it out, but he only pocketed it.
"Do not misuse it, we can easily take it away," Scrimgeour said.
"You mean don't use it on anyone but Harry?" Tom said coolly.
Here Scrimgeour actually nodded his expression equally cold.
"Let's put it this way, Potter has one chance. If he attacks a student, even once, then you will both be removed from the school indefinitely."
Tom's expression was hard, his eyes cold as he only nodded once.
Harry looked expectantly at Scrimgeour.
"Not yet, Potter. You're dangerous enough without a wand."
Dangerous. The word sounded oddly satisfying in Harry's head as he watched Nala cower behind Scrimgeour.
Scrimgeour stroked his dæmon once, but this did little to settle her as he cleared his throat and spoke directly to Tom.
"However, I will say this, you know of Sirius Black?"
Tom nodded.
"Black's target is Potter. We have no doubt that he will try to get past the dementors and into Hogwarts. If Black manages to get close, deal with him appropriately until the aurors arrive."
"Appropriately?" Tom frowned.
"Black only wishes harm to Potter," Scrimgeour said. "Do not give him the opportunity."
The underlying message of which Scrimgeour was hinting.
"You want me to-" Tom started.
Scrimgeour shook his head as Nala swatted her tail.
"Off the record, but the Minister is prepared to look the other way in this situation only."
Harry tore his gaze away from Nala, memories flashing back to the station with Black and his wispy dæmon.
"Who is he really?" Harry asked.
There was a pause, at which Scrimgeour cleared his throat.
"He's a Death Eater," Scrimgeour said. "He's rumoured to be the Dark Lords right hand man."
What little hope Harry had vanished. Of course it was ridiculous to think that this stranger could find Lyra.
XXXXXXXXX
Harry sat crossed legged on one of the squishy chairs in the empty Gryffindor common room. He turned his palm upwards, inspecting one of the many fresh bandages that had just been applied.
"You're not meant to touch it," Tom scolded as Harry picked at the frayed edges.
Harry shrugged as Tom flicked his new wand. It lit up in a trail of green sparks before he turned it downwards, cutting the air like a crack as the fire exploded in hissing sparks.
Tom's next curse split a portrait in two causing its occupants to flee screaming.
Harry stared at Tom's wand. It made his stomach churn to think Riddle still had his.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.
"I don't understand," Tom said, his voice oddly cold, as he rolled the wand between his tips of his fingers. "Dumbledore's actions don't make any sense. You're practically a dementor and everyone's happy to look the other way. I want to know why."
"Being the boy who lived has to count for something," Harry suggested.
Tom shot him a look at this.
"There's more to it then that. There has to be. Fudge is right, you should be locked up and I should be disposed of. No one would blink an eye, worse things have happened during war."
At Tom's blunt statement, he looked up, noticing when Harry dropped his bandaged hands into his lap.
"It bothers you?"
Harry shook his head, his own thoughts spiralling.
"That's what Voldemort wants," Harry said quietly. "He's always wanted me dead."
Tom stilled at this, his expression clouded.
"True, there's a possibility it's linked to why the Ministry are so desperate to hang onto what's left of you."
Harry didn't have anything else to add to this as he fumbled back with his bandages. None of his damaged skin had even started to heal, and the worst parts the healers had just insisted he kept covered. They'd attempted to put one over his right eye which Harry had just point blank refused.
Tom's eyes flashed as his own gaze settled over Harry's ashened skin. He sat down on the sofa beside Harry, pulling Harry's bandaged hand into his own to retie the section that Harry had tugged loose.
Harry just sat mutely, watching as Tom took far longer than necessary to tie the bandaged knot back up again. When he finished, Tom didn't let go, instead he ran his own hand across Harry's as he took a tentative breath.
"What made you stop?"
Tom's voice came out rushed as he stumbled over his words, his body tensing despite himself.
Harry bit his lip, not quite meeting Tom's gaze. He made to move away, but Tom tightened his hold.
"Harry," he warned.
"It doesn't matter really," Harry said as he fidgeted under Tom's stare. Even now, Harry could practically taste Tom's soul, reverberating out in waves from every breath. Harry ran his tongue over his dry lips, his eyes shutting momentarily as his instincts screamed to lean in, to test if Tom really was untouchable.
Tom responded abruptly, as he knelt forwards on the sofa, coming to stop right in front of Harry as his expression sent chills of temptation down Harry's spine.
He didn't need to say anything, Tom was determined and he deserved an answer, his want was mixed in with Harry's own emotions.
Harry's shoulder's sagged, his dead eye scanning for anything to disprove his own conclusions.
"You tasted funny," Harry said softly, eyes flicking briefly up to Tom's.
Tom was staring at him, his mouth slightly ajar as he struggled to find a response.
"I tasted funny?" Tom blinked, sitting back slightly as he tried to process this information.
Harry fumbled with his bandaged hands as he looked back down. He couldn't ignore Tom's emptiness any longer.
"You know, like burnt toast, only not like burnt toast-just wrong," his own voice sounded strangely distant.
"So let me get this straight," Tom's grip had lessoned now as he shuddered, the true terror of such a simple realisation. "The only reason you didn't take my soul is because I taste like burnt toast?"
"Not burnt toast though," Harry muttered, reddening on the good side of his face.
Tom pulled his hands into his to hold him still.
"I really don't believe you sometimes."
Harry flushed, but Tom's next question caught him off guard.
"What did Quirrell's dæmon taste like?" Tom's expression was steeled, his shoulder's tight.
Harry couldn't help it, a smile drifted onto his face.
"It was perfect, like my soul was complete, Tom."
Tom sat forwards as he placed his wand on the chair. He didn't say anything as he surveyed Harry with a scrutinising look.
"And after-"
Harry instantly went rigid, pulling away, but Tom squeezed his hands, keeping him close. Tom was doing it again, sinking Harry into whatever calming state that he was capable. But Harry didn't want to remember.
"Don't-"
Tom nodded, as he ran his fingers in soothing motions carefully across his bandages.
"What if you-" Tom shut his eyes. "What if you try again and want to take my soul?"
"I won't," Harry said.
"You were going to, regardless of how I taste," Tom said. "What if next time you act on your instincts."
Harry shook his head, his dead eye revealing nothing of the temptation of dæmons.
"I can't see you."
"I-what?"
Tom pulled back, breaking their hands apart. Harry waved his hand in front of his right eye.
"I can't see anything at the moment, because there aren't any dæmons around."
"I'm solid to you," Tom said. "Perhaps it works differently for your own dæmon?"
"Perhaps," Harry mumbled, knowing that he could ignore the single broken strand of particles leading away from his absent heart, trailing into the distance.
"Harry?"
"Everyone is connected to their dæmons," Harry said quietly. "I can see it, see their connections and how they are anchored to each other."
Tom opened his mouth to reply, only to stop as his brow furrowed. He shifted forwards, as he stared at Harry in disbelief.
"You know where Lyra is?" he whispered.
Harry couldn't respond as his throat tightened, he nodded once. Tom lent closer, his own hand hovering just over where Harry's heart should be, as if he too would see the thin broken link which led straight to Lyra.
"What about us?" Tom asked softly.
Harry shut his left eye, and moved his hand in front of his right. Still darkness.
"I don't see any connection."
Tom didn't press further, if anything he looked like he'd regretted asking.
He stood up abruptly.
"I'm heading to bed. Are you coming, Harry?"
Harry tore his gaze away from the fire, momentarily.
"Oh-yeah."
Harry followed Tom up the dormitory stairs, unable to push away the nagging feeling clawing at his thoughts.
Harry had known it as soon as their lips had touched, only confirmed by the absence of any golden dust. It was the true reason that he had spared Tom and the reason why Harry would never be tempted to take Tom's soul again.
Tom must have known, why else was he suddenly reluctant to talk.
Harry didn't bother to change, his head sinking into his pillow as he stared blankly at his drapes. Tom shifted beside him, his hands teasing under Harry shirt, although he was careful to avoid the worst of Harry's damaged skin and the abyss that was his heart.
Harry took a deep breath, catching Tom in his chill. Tom's fingers dug in slightly in return as his eyes shuddered shut.
It shouldn't make any sense, Tom shouldn't be affected. Harry preyed on dæmons alone, not remnants of whatever Lord Voldemort had gifted him.
Harry twisted onto his side, staring back at Tom's troubled face. Harry could deny it no longer.
Tom wasn't a dæmon.
XXXXXXXXXX
So I owed you all a long chapter. I know this year was a little rough, but thanks for sticking through it. I can at least guarantee that it's going to get better for Harry and Tom.
For anyone still interested, I have a lot more planned for this story and we're only just getting started - onto third year!