Cold Soul (I Want It Back)

by Kayliana

All was not well. Voldemort survived the final battle and was imprisoned in Azkaban, bound by a magic-restraining collar. Meanwhile, Harry's magic grew unstable after the loss of the Horcrux; he visits his nemesis, intending to get the Horcrux back, but he gets more than he bargained for-namely a former Dark Lord magically bound as his slave. ARCHIVEOFOUROWN(d o t) ORG FOR UPDATES

7. 7

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A/N:

This is a long chapter, but I think it all belongs together so I didn't try to break it into shorter ones.

Heads up, a lot happens in this one. There's humor and angst and so many lies and things get very smutty and NSFW towards the end!

Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Harry held on tight to Tom's hand as the Floo Network flung them around and finally spat them out in the living room at the Burrow. Harry stumbled but Tom caught him and steadied him before he could fall.

"Thanks," Harry said, trying not to dwell on how close together their faces were and how much he wanted to lean in and kiss Tom again.

Tom smirked as if he knew exactly what Harry was thinking, then he stepped away to stand slightly behind Harry instead.

Harry blinked a few times, trying to focus on the task at hand.

He heard footsteps approaching and turned around in time to watch Molly Weasley hurry through the doorway, wearing an anxious expression. She relaxed and smiled at Harry as soon as she caught sight of him, then said, "Harry, dear, I wasn't expecting you. Dinner's almost over, but it's a small group tonight and I'm sure there's still plenty of food left to fix you a plate."

"Oh, no thanks," Harry said with a smile. "I just needed to talk to Ron and Hermione for two seconds."

"Of course, dear. I'll send them out. And," she paused for a moment, glancing over Harry's shoulder at Tom with a cautiously friendly expression, "who's your friend, Harry?"

"Erm, this is Tom," Harry said awkwardly, then he briefly panicked because he completely forgot Tom's new alias for a moment. "Smith," he blurted out a few seconds later, feeling like an idiot for forgetting such a common and easy name. "Thomas Smith." He'd been expecting Tom to swoop in with the charm and instantly win over Molly the same way he'd done with Hermione, but instead Tom just kept standing behind Harry and being unusually silent. "He's—"

Tom interrupted then, in a tone that was polite but bordering on cold, "I'm Harry's bodyguard, and we're on a rather tight schedule tonight, so it would be appreciated if you could send out Ron and Hermione so we can be on our way."

Molly blinked a few times, then said, "Oh, of course." Harry tried to give her a reassuring smile, but on the inside he was wondering what the hell Tom was playing at being so cold and borderline hostile. Molly looked like she had several dozen questions, but she glanced at Tom again and whatever expression he wore must've made her think better of asking them. "Just a minute," She said. Then she turned and hurried out of the room, seeming slightly uncomfortable.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Harry turned around to ask Tom, "What was that about? You were being rude."

Tom met Harry's eyes and a searing flash of rage bled through their connection, making Harry's scar burn. Harry winced and let out a little gasp, and Tom seemed to realize his slip-up because the pain and rage abruptly cut off as he slammed up a wall of Occlumency shields between their minds.

"She killed Bellatrix," Tom finally answered in a flat tone.

Harry blinked. "Oh. Right." He hadn't considered that at all—to him, Bellatrix wasn't someone worth mourning or avenging. "I guess I didn't really think everything through before bringing you here," he said. His tone was apologetic, and although he couldn't quite bring himself to offer condolences for the psychopath who'd murdered his godfather and laughed about it, he was still sorry for upsetting Tom.

"Obviously," Tom said under his breath.

Honestly, Ginny was the only person Harry would've worried about running into, if not for the fact that she'd told him at his birthday party that she planned to join a professional Quiddich training camp somewhere on the continent for the rest of the year instead of going back to Hogwarts. If she were here, it would've been too much of a risk to bring Tom since she would've recognized his face. But maybe he should've thought more about who Tom would recognize, instead of just who would recognize him.

Harry was saved from further awkward conversation by the sound of more footsteps.

Hermione came through the doorway first, looking slightly worried. "Harry," she greeted. Her eyes flicked to Tom and she said, "Hello again, Tom. What's going on?"

Ron was right behind her, and he nodded a greeting but stayed quiet for now, looking curiously at Tom but not seeming surprised by his presence. Harry assumed Hermione would've already told Ron about his new 'bodyguard.'

"Hermione, Ron—I didn't mean to worry you, I just had to redo the Fidelius and wanted to let you guys back in."

Hermione's eyebrows went up. "Why did you have to redo it?"

Tom cut in smoothly and answered, "Just some minor security concerns. Nothing to worry over."

"What kind of minor security concerns?" Ron asked.

Tom said politely but with finality, "There's really no need to discuss it, it's already been dealt with. Harry, if you would?" he prompted.

"Right," Harry said. "Ron, Hermione, I live at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

They both blinked a few times as the magic of the Fidelius expanded to include them.

"So," Ron asked after a moment, "are you not telling the rest of the family? Just us?"

"Yeah, for now," Harry said, feeling slightly guilty about it. "Sorry."

"Who else have you told besides us?" Hermione asked.

"Tom, obviously, and Kreacher. That's it."

Hermione gave him a shrewd and slightly concerned look, and he could tell that she had a dozen questions. Thankfully she didn't ask them, she just said, "Well, you should stay for dinner at least. Both of you."

"Oh, I really can't," Harry hedged.

"Come on, mate, Mum's been dying to see you. And you could talk to Ginny, try to work things out," he added hopefully—Ron hadn't taken the break-up well.

"Wait—Ginny's here?" Harry asked, his stomach dropping with a sharp flare of panic. "No, she's not supposed to be here. She told me she was going to some Quiddich training camp on the continent and then trying out for the Harpies."

"Yeah, well, Hermione talked her out of it so she's staying here and going back to Hogwarts with the rest of us," Ron said, not sounding thrilled about it—although that was likely due more to his own thwarted plans to join the Aurors early rather than anything to do with Ginny.

"Shit," Harry said under his breath. He glanced over and caught Tom's eye for a second, then he told his friends, "Erm, sorry but we really can't stay. Tight schedule and all—we've still got that one thing to take care of, right Tom?"

"Indeed. A very time-sensitive matter," Tom confirmed, immediately playing along. There was a hint of amusement in his tone, but he also looked slightly curious about Harry's sudden insistence on leaving.

Hermione gave them both a suspicious look and said, "Harry, you don't have to run away just because Ginny's here. You're still friends, right?"

"Yeah absolutely, great friends, but Tom and I really do have to go take care of something. I'll catch up with you lot later, yeah?"

Harry turned and headed for the fireplace, reaching for Tom's arm and not-so-subtly pulling him along. He felt something cross their mental connection, a vague wordless inquiry like a mental question mark. Harry tried to send back an explanation—a few images of Tom Riddle's diary and Ginny lying unconscious on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets—but he was anxious and couldn't concentrate very well and he'd never tried to send a message through their connection before so he didn't think anything actually got through.

They were almost to the fireplace when a voice from the doorway made him pause.

"Harry?"

Fuck. It was Ginny. Of course it was Ginny.

"Leaving without even saying hi?" she asked.

Harry turned around and forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Hi Ginny," he said. "Sorry but I can't stay—something urgent to see to," he said, turning around again and tugging Tom along and hoping he wouldn't turn around.

"Who's your friend?" Ginny asked.

Tom, damn him, turned around.

Before he could even introduce himself, all hell broke loose. Ginny's face paled and she drew her wand and fired off a Stupify towards Tom.

Tom was clearly surprised but reacted quickly and threw a wandless Protego around himself and Harry before her spell could hit, then he drew his wand and pointed it towards Ginny.

"Wait!" Harry told Tom.

Tom shot a brief glare at him because that was an order, but Harry looked away and tried to catch Ginny's eye—she still had her wand raised and she was watching Tom with a fearful, determined gaze.

Ron and Hermione had both drawn their wands but didn't seem to know what to do with them—they looked back and forth between Ginny and Harry with confused, half-panicked expressions.

"Ginny," Harry called, "just stop. It's not what you think—"

"That's Tom Riddle!" Ginny shouted back from across the room. "That's bloody Voldemort, Harry, what the fuck?"

"What?" Ron demanded, his voice a few octaves too high. He lifted his wand in a defensive stance, holding it higher and keeping it aimed towards where Tom and Harry stood.

Hermione did the same, her eyes calculating and her expression somewhere between horror and resignation, an expression that said 'of course something like this would happen.'

"No," Harry said firmly, "guys, it's not—"

More loud hurried footsteps, and Molly and Arthur both appeared behind Ginny in the doorway, wands drawn.

"What's going on in here?" Arthur demanded.

"That's Voldemort!" Ginny shouted again.

"Ginny, no!" Harry repeated, but now there were two more wands pointed in his direction.

He felt close to panicking—all that effort to get the Horcrux back, all that progress he'd made with Tom, and now everything was crashing down around him. They were going to take Tom away from him, the truth was going to come out, he was going to end up in Azkaban too most likely. Maybe they could at least share a cell.

Tom's smooth voice cut through Harry's panic, and he said loudly but calmly, "If everyone could just calm down for a moment—there's been a terrible misunderstanding, but I assure you I can explain."

Ginny snapped, "There's nothing to explain, Riddle," and her voice was steady but her wand hand was shaking.

"That's not my name."

A flash of bluish white light caught Harry's eye, and he recognized Hermione's otter Patronus shooting away.

"Shit," Harry said. "Who did you send that to?" he demanded.

Hermione gave him an apologetic look. "To Kingsley. I don't know what's really going on, but—"

Harry drew his own wand, conjured his Patronus, and sent it off to Kingsley as well, with the message that everything was under control but it would be much appreciated if he could come to the Burrow, alone, to help with a situation with Tom. The stag Patronus bounded away, and the room was left in a tense silence.

"Harry," Tom said, sounding resigned, "we'll have to tell them the truth." His said it at a normal volume but everyone in the room heard.

"What? No—I mean, there's nothing to tell," Harry said, panicking internally.

Tom gave him an exasperated look, then turned back towards the Weasleys and, mostly addressing Ginny, he said, "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, and I'm very sorry to have frightened you. Harry failed to warn me that there would be anyone here who would recognize this face."

"So you admit it, then?" Ginny asked, sounding triumphant but still half-terrified.

"I am not Tom Riddle," Tom said firmly. Harry had no idea where Tom was going with this but he couldn't think of a way to salvage the situation so he just let him speak. "My name is Thomas Smith," Tom continued. "I was an Unspeakable for decades, I'm now Harry's bodyguard, and for many years I believed myself to be both Muggleborn and an orphan."

"What are you saying?" Hermione asked, her tone curious but still cautious.

"He's lying, and trying to manipulate us," Ginny interrupted. "He's Voldemort, that's what he does!"

"I'm not lying," Tom…well, lied, "and I'm not who you think I am." He paused for a moment, then said in a rueful tone, "The only things I have in common with my monstrous father are my first name and this face—and since he shed both decades ago, I wasn't expecting anyone under fifty to recognize it or make that connection."

Wait…what? Harry blinked.

"Wait, what?" Ron demanded.

"You're—" Hermione's eyebrows were raised and she looked slightly stunned. "You're Voldemort's son?"

Tom gave her a rather forced-looking smile and said, "Unfortunately, yes. It was quite a nasty shock to me as well."

"How did you find out?" Hermione asked.

A loud knock at the front door saved him from answering.

Arthur cleared his throat, then cautiously said, "How about we all put our wands down now, and I'll answer the door?"

Tom lowered his wand first—in a false show of 'look how trustworthy I am' no doubt, but only Harry knew that he didn't even need his wand for most things. Slowly, everyone else followed suit and lowered their wands, except for Ginny.

"Gin, come on," Harry said, his tone half-pleading and half-placating.

Ginny let out a frustrated sigh, then finally lowered her wand but kept it where she could easily raise it again, and she didn't bother hiding the fact that she was still watching Tom like a hawk.

"Okay, good," Arthur said cheerily, in a valiant attempt to ease the tension. "I'll get the door."

"Thank you," Harry told Ginny, quietly but sincerely. She didn't look at him.

Ginny's eyes were still locked on Tom, and when Harry glanced over he saw Tom looking right back at her. There were a few seconds of tense silence while everyone listened to Arthur's footsteps heading down the hallway towards the door.

Then Tom spoke, his tone so gentle and seemingly genuine that it startled Harry.

"I'm sorry," Tom told Ginny, his expression sincere and focused on her as if there was no one else in the room. "I don't know what my father did to you, but I'm sorry that you ever had to meet him."

Harry glanced back at Ginny, and her expression was still stony but the look in her eyes was conflicted. She seemed to be wavering slightly, teetering right on the edge of believing him. Give the man a bloody Oscar, Harry thought.

Distantly, the front door closed, and then two voices and two sets of footsteps in the hallway gradually moved closer. Harry recognized Kingsley's deep baritone, and let out a relieved sigh when he only heard Arthur's voice accompanying Kingsley's—that meant that he'd likely come alone, and that they weren't about to be swarmed by Aurors, and Harry and Tom would have another ally in the room.

Arthur reentered the room first, followed closely by Kingsley.

Kingsley's eyes scanned the room quickly but shrewdly, reading the tension and cataloguing everyone's unnatural stillness and finally landing on Harry with an expression somewhere between exasperation and annoyance.

Kingsley crossed the room, ignoring the tension, and walked right up to Harry and Tom. He cast a quick privacy spell around the three of them, then demanded, "One of you explain this, right now."

"Erm…well." Harry started to speak, but then paused and decided to cast a Muffliato over them to back up the privacy spell, just in case.

"A simple misunderstanding," Tom said smoothly, jumping in and filling the silence. "And a rather egregious lapse in judgment on Harry's part when he decided to bring me to the home of someone who would recognize this face." Tom glanced over and caught Harry's eye, then finally asked, "How did she recognize me?"

"She's the one who ended up with your, erm, cursed diary, back in my second year."

"Ah," Tom said delicately, nodding in understanding.

Harry added, "And in my defense, I thought she'd be away at a Quiddich training camp. I didn't think there was any chance she'd be here."

"What cursed diary?" Kingsley asked, looking concerned.

"It's gone, I destroyed it in second year," Harry answered, hoping Kingsley would drop the subject.

Kinglsey dropped it, turning back to Tom and asking wryly, "So from what Arthur told me, I gather you're pretending to be your own son now? How's that working out?"

Tom met his eyes and answered, "So far it's going swimmingly. A bit awkward, but needs must."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "And everyone is buying it?"

Tom tilted his head slightly, then said, "They will." Then he smirked and said, "But if you wouldn't mind updating my 'official' paperwork, just in case anyone decides to dig deeper," Tom said pointedly, glancing briefly in Hermione's direction.

Kingsley sighed, then asked, "What have you told them?"

"That I believed myself to be Muggleborn and an orphan 'for many years,' I didn't go into too many specifics. I told them I was an Unspeakable for decades and that it was a rather nasty shock to find out who my father was."

"All right," Kingsley said, "I can work with that. But we might need to scrap the 'unmemorable Ravenclaw' angle—if Ginny had that strong of a reaction, how is anyone going to believe that Dumbledore and Slughorn didn't see the resemblance?"

"Or Hagrid," Harry added.

Tom nonchalantly suggested, "Perhaps that's how I found out—one of them recognized the resemblance and confronted me about it. That would've certainly been a nasty shock."

"Dumbledore wouldn't have just pretended all this time that Voldemort's son didn't exist," Harry protested. "He would've, I don't know, tried to use you against…you…somehow."

"Perhaps he's the one who secured me that position as an Unspeakable where I helped behind the scenes for decades," Tom suggested.

"And Slughorn?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Would've recognized the resemblance, but would also have been far too terrified to approach me and ask about my parentage if he thought I was truly Lord Voldemort's son."

Kingsley, who'd been looking back and forth between Tom and Harry like watching a tennis match, asked, "What if someone decides to write to Slughorn to ask for confirmation? Or if they try to interrogate Dumbledore's portrait?"

"Secrecy Vow," Tom said immediately, in a tone that would suffer no argument. "Make everyone in this room swear to never tell anyone else about my supposed parentage. It's not an unreasonable request—you can cite national security or some such."

"Fine," Kingsley said. "We'll have them swear a Secrecy Vow, but I'm also changing your paperwork—no Hogwarts. You were privately tutored."

Tom raised an eyebrow and asked, "By whom?"

Harry chimed in, "By Dumbledore." Tom sneered, but Harry continued, "No, it's perfect really. He isn't alive to deny it, and everyone knows his bloody secrets had secrets. Nobody would blink at the thought that he'd secretly trained Voldemort's son to use against him."

Kingsley glanced at Harry, then back at Tom. He sighed and said, "All right. Just so you know, I'm getting really sick of lying and covering for you two. I do actually have a government to run, you know, and things aren't exactly going smoothly right now."

"Sorry," Harry said. "Just—help us sort this out, and I'll try not to drag you into it again… Oh, and by the way, I redid the Fidelius over my house—I live at Number 12 Grimmauld Place," he said, letting Kingsley back in to the Fidelius.

Kingsley blinked as the information settled. Then he raised a dubious eyebrow at Harry, but nodded and cancelled the privacy wards to finally face their audience.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

And so the three of them lied and covered and smoothed things over with the Weasleys, and Kingsley oversaw Hermione and each of the Weasleys taking a Secrecy Vow. Only Molly, Arthur, Ginny, and Ron had been there, since George was still living in the flat above the joke shop, Percy had his own flat somewhere, Bill was at home with Fleur, and Charlie was back in Romania working with dragons again. The Secrecy Vow prevented any of them from revealing Tom's supposed parentage to anyone new, and it also prevented them from even discussing it with anyone except Tom or Harry.

By the time all was said and done, even Ginny nearly seemed almost convinced by Tom's act. Molly and Arthur had practically adopted Tom, even despite Tom's continued coldness towards Molly, cooing over how brave he was and how much he'd had to overcome and how good of him it was to look after 'our Harry.'

Approximately an hour later, which had felt like several hours to Harry, he and Tom flooed back to Grimmauld Place together, and Harry finally let out a breath he'd been holding for ages.

"Holy shit," he said, flopping down onto the sofa. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

Tom sat down next to him, stretching one arm behind Harry on the sofa. Harry nestled closer, and Tom added, "Yes, that certainly could've gone better."

Harry huffed out an amused breath, then he let the full impact of everything that had happened finally hit him, and he started laughing again. "You're—" he said, in a strangled voice in between laughter, "you're pretending—to be your own son."

Tom rolled his eyes and said dryly, "Yes, I know. I was there."

"I know, it's just," Harry said, his laughter tapering off, "god, just when I think things can't get any weirder."

"This was entirely your fault," Tom said, a hint of actual frustration leaking into his tone. "If you had taken two seconds to warn me about the girl—"

"I didn't think she'd be there," Harry protested, annoyed that Tom was trying to blame him.

"It doesn't matter! The fact that your ex-girlfriend was possessed by my diary and would therefore recognize me is something you should've mentioned!"

Harry scoffed as the last of his amusement evaporated, leaving behind a burgeoning indignation. "Oh, so we're talking about not telling each other important details now, are we?" Harry held up his index finger and listed off, "How about not telling me what Magical Conquest was before I invoked it?" He held up a second finger, "Or how about the fact that I would have to fuck you to seal the deal?" Third finger, "You didn't bother to tell me you snuck Wormtail's body out of Azkaban and you let me nearly have a panic attack over that when I thought I'd left it there." Fourth, "And you didn't tell me about the proximity requirement acting up until, what, a week after it started?"

Tom gave him an icy look and said, "You didn't bother telling me that someone was trying to break through the house's wards—which is an actual, legitimate security concern."

Harry scoffed again and turned his head—there wasn't really a graceful way to storm off when you were cuddling on a sofa with someone, and despite the argument neither of them had moved or pulled away.

"I was monitoring the situation," Harry said tersely.

"By which you mean you had Kreacher monitoring the situation and then you subsequently ignored his reports."

"Oh my god," Harry said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Why are we even arguing right now?" He honestly hadn't been frustrated until Tom had laid into him, and then it had flared up rather suddenly. He didn't want to argue, but it was like their moods fed off of each other or something—which made sense, considering how Voldemort's strong emotions used to split Harry's head apart even when they were miles or countries apart from each other.

Tom just looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Harry looked right back and inexplicably felt his irritation melting away into neutrality the longer they stared at each other in silence. His muscles un-tensed, and he let himself relax more comfortably against Tom's side, although he kept his eyes locked with Tom's.

Tom blinked, and for a brief moment something seemed to flash in his eyes—a sudden pleased understanding, like he'd figured something out. Then he blinked again and his expression went neutral, leaving Harry feeling curious but also slightly apprehensive.

"What?" Harry asked.

Tom finally smirked and said, "You know, Harry, you're quite right. There are much more enjoyable things we could be doing instead of arguing."

Harry blinked, but caught on rather quickly as Tom leaned in to close the few inches of distance between them.

Harry closed his eyes as their lips met, and he let himself get lost in the kiss. He was pretty sure Tom hadn't given him a real answer just now, but when did he ever? Harry had confidence in the long-term orders Kingsley had insisted on back in Azkaban, though—he didn't think that whatever Tom was being secretive about could be an actual threat, so he was content to let Tom keep his secrets for now. Tom had lost so much else—his freedom, his autonomy, his entire identity as far as the rest of the world was concerned—that Harry had no desire to force Tom to tell him every little thought he kept to himself.

Tom was an amazing kisser—Harry already knew this of course, but it hit him again how exquisitely talented Tom was with his lips and his tongue. Unfair, Harry thought, becoming thoroughly distracted as one of Tom's hands found its way into Harry's hair and the other trailed teasingly up Harry's inner thigh.

Harry was, in fact, so thoroughly distracted with kissing Tom that he almost didn't hear the Floo flare up.

Luckily though, Harry heard the whoosh of the flames and quickly detached his lips from Tom's, whispering a warning of, "Company."

Tom immediately leaned away from Harry, withdrawing his hands from Harry's hair and upper thigh, respectively, and putting one arm innocently on the back of the sofa behind Harry. Tom had a line of sight to the Floo and immediately glanced towards it.

There was a muffled thump of someone arriving, and another thump only a few seconds later.

Harry turned to face Ron and Hermione, who were both frozen in place by the fireplace and staring at him with expressions caught somewhere between surprise and concern.

Harry blinked at them for a few seconds, feeling his face heat up with a fierce blush. Hermione and Ron both knew about Harry's touch-starvation and they both had indulged him with plenty of hugs and casual closeness over the years. So he wasn't too concerned about them catching him sitting so close to Tom—it was more that he was desperately hoping that neither he nor Tom looked too obviously freshly-snogged.

Finally Harry found his voice and awkwardly said, "Erm…hello."

He felt a flare of frustration through his connection to Tom, but it cut off rather abruptly as Tom evidently put up his Occlumency shields to block his emotions from leaking into Harry's.

Before Harry could figure out Tom's reaction, Hermione cleared her throat and said, "Sorry if we're, erm, interrupting anything."

"No," Harry immediately said… or, well, lied. "It's fine."

Ron looked back and forth between Harry and Tom, then said to Hermione, "Looks like we got here just in time if he's resorting to cuddling with Junior-mort."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, slapping him on the arm. "Don't call him that!"

"Shoe fits," Ron muttered, rubbing his arm.

"Harry," Hermione said, ignoring Ron, "I'm sorry, we should've Floo-called first before just coming through. I just," she bit her lip, then paused nervously before continuing, "Could we maybe talk privately? Just for a few minutes."

"Erm," Harry said awkwardly, glancing at Tom for help.

Tom smiled at him, then said, "Go ahead. I'll make myself scarce." He withdrew his arm from around Harry, his fingertips subtly tracing unseen paths along the back of Harry's neck on the way.

Harry's breath caught and he tried not to blush as an echo of Tom's touch seemed to linger on his neck. "Right," he said, after far too long of a pause to seem natural.

Tom stood and headed for the kitchen. He said over his shoulder, "I'll make everyone some tea—or would you prefer coffee?"

"Tea, please," Hermione answered.

"I'm not drinking anything he makes," Ron muttered under his breath. Hermione elbowed him, then he said in a louder and grudgingly polite tone, "Tea's fine."

"Harry?" Tom prompted.

"Yeah, tea's good, whatever."

Tom nodded and went through the doorway into the kitchen.

Harry turned back around to face his friends. "Erm, you guys can sit down."

"Actually we can't," Ron said, sounding annoyed but slightly concerned. He shifted his weight as if trying to take a step, but his feet remained firmly planted in place on the floor. "Can't seem to move from where we landed. Mind explaining why?"

Harry blinked as he remembered the blood-bound Tresspasser's Hex. "Oh—erm—new security measure. Tom's idea."

Hermione gave him a shrewd look, then said, "Can you let us out of it?"

"I'm…actually not sure how to let you out," Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll ask Tom—"

"No, it's fine," Hermione quickly said when Harry took a step towards the kitchen. "Just come over here so we don't have to yell across the room."

Harry gave her a slightly dubious look, but stepped closer until he was standing in front of Hermione and Ron next to the fireplace.

Hermione cast a Muffliato around the three of them, then said urgently, "Harry, I need you to be completely honest with me—is he really Voldemort's son?"

"Yes," Harry said, sticking with Tom's newest cover story even though he felt horribly guilty for lying to his best friends' faces.

"How sure are you, though?" she persisted.

"I'm sure," he insisted. "Why don't you believe us?"

Hermione bit her lip, then said hesitantly, "I'm just…wondering if we might've…missed one."

"Missed one wh—? Oh," Harry said as he realized what she was getting at. "No, he's not a Horcrux. I would've noticed if he was a Horcrux, Hermione."

"Not necessarily," Hermione said carefully, "especially if you didn't really want to notice."

"He's not a Horcrux," Harry repeated, putting as much confidence and annoyance in his tone as possible, "and if I thought that he was one, I wouldn't ignore the red flags just because I'm," he paused, blushing slightly, then finished, "a bit lonely."

Ron looked slightly ill and said, "Even if he's not a Horcrux, he's still You-Know-Who's son! How can you trust him—?"

"Are we judging people by who their parents are now?" Harry interrupted. "Because I thought that was the other side's thing."

"Harry—"

"Ron, just leave it, all right?" Harry snapped.

Ron pressed his lips together in an angry line and was quiet for a moment, but then he said in a borderline accusatory tone, "You were Sitting With him," giving the words 'sitting with' a weight that meant they were talking about Harry's touch-starvation without really talking about it.

Because Ron and Hermione knew about his touch-starvation, and they helped him with it, but they both also knew that Harry had to trust someone before he would let them close enough to help him with it, let alone tell them he needed it.

"Yeah, I was," Harry finally said after a moment.

"So he knows..?" Ron trailed off, still sounding suspicious and slightly jealous.

Harry nodded.

"Mate, you've only known him for what, a week? And he's You-Know-Who's son," Ron said again, emphatically.

Harry was about to lose his temper but Hermione spoke up.

"And he's staring at us," she said quietly.

Harry and Ron turned to look, and Tom was indeed casually leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, a loaded tea tray in his hands and a curious expression on his face.

Harry forced a smile and drew his wand to cancel the Muffliato around the three of them.

Tom raised an eyebrow but walked over. "I hope I'm not intruding," he said. Harry knew he didn't mean it, but he'd pulled out the charming persona again and Harry found himself hoping it would work on his friends this time.

"Not at all," Hermione said, giving Tom a slightly forced-looking smile.

Tom set the tea tray down on the table, then drew his wand. Harry heard a sharp intake of breath behind him from either Ron or Hermione, but Tom just waved his wand and casually said, "Dimittis Semel Tantum," before taking a seat on the sofa.

"Oh," Hermione said. "Thank you."

Harry turned around and saw that Hermione and Ron could move now, and they both took a few steps away from the fireplace.

"You're welcome," Tom said politely. "Fair warning though, it's going to do that every time you come through, so you might want to make sure Harry or I are here first. Only one of us can release you with the counter-spell."

Ron gave Tom a suspicious look and said, "I've never heard of a security spell like that."

Tom gave him a thin smile and said, "It's rather obscure. It fell out of fashion a few centuries ago, but it's reliable."

Hermione cautiously asked, "What is it, exactly?"

Tom's eyes flicked to her instead, and he said coolly, "If I go around telling people exactly which security measures Harry has in place, it rather defeats the purpose, don't you think?"

Hermione looked away at the floor. "I only meant—"

Tom interrupted, his tone bordering on gentle, "I know you're concerned about Harry, and I understand why you don't fully trust me—"

"Fully?" Ron scoffed under his breath.

Tom ignored him and continued, "But I promise you, I entirely despise my father, and Harry's safety is my top priority."

Tom and Hermione locked eyes for a long moment before she finally nodded and said, "All right. It's just… with the life Harry's had, we're always a bit suspicious of new people."

Tom nodded, and said approvingly, "As you should be."

"I'm sorry if we offended you—"

Tom smiled and interrupted, "It's fine, Hermione. Really." An awkward but less hostile silence settled over the four of them for a moment, but then Tom said, "Now, I hate to be an ungracious host, but Harry and I really do have something we need to take care of. Privately."

Hermione blinked, then gave Harry a curious look.

"Erm, yeah," Harry confirmed. "We can hang out some other time."

Ron shot a dubious look at Tom, but then looked at Harry and mustered up a smile and said, "All right. Constant vigilance though, yeah?"

Harry huffed out an exasperated laugh but said, "Yes, Ron."

Ron, Hermione, and Harry all stood up and walked towards the fireplace. Tom remained seated on the sofa but watched them go.

Hermione whispered something in Ron's ear, and he looked concerned for a moment, but he nodded and grabbed a handful of Floo powder regardless.

Ron went first, Floo-ing away to the Burrow.

Once he was gone, Hermione suddenly caught Harry's eye with an apologetic expression before she looked past him at Tom and then bluntly asked, "Tom, enough lies—which Horcrux are you?"

Harry gave her an exasperated look and said, "He's not a—"

Tom interrupted, his tone calm and completely serious, "Which do you think?"

Harry went silent and his head whipped around to stare at Tom in disbelief. Then he glanced at Hermione again, who was nervously biting her lip while she studied Tom.

"He's not a Horcrux," Harry repeated anyway, pointlessly.

"Oh, drop it, Harry," Tom said, sounding weary but also slightly amused. "She obviously doesn't believe you."

"You're admitting it, then?" Hermione asked. "You're one of Voldemort's Horcruxes?"

"I haven't admitted to anything, I'm simply allowing you to voice your theories and entertaining them."

"All right, in theory then—which one would you be?" Hermione asked.

Tom smiled, then said, "Figure it out yourself—if I were a Horcrux, I certainly wouldn't just tell you."

Hermione blinked, but then said, "Well, you're clearly fond of Harry. You're using the ruse of being his bodyguard to stay close to him and protect him. I can only think of one Horcrux that would've had the time and opportunity to get so attached to Harry."

Harry glanced curiously at Hermione in time to watch her eyes flick up to his scar before she pointedly looked back at Tom.

Tom smiled and quietly said, "Clever girl."

A slight blush rose in Hermione's cheeks, but she didn't look away from Tom. "I want a Wizard's Oath from you swearing that you won't ever hurt Harry."

"All right," Tom immediately agreed. Harry wanted to laugh—it was a pointless concession because the slave bond wouldn't let Tom harm Harry if he wanted to, but of course Hermione didn't know that. Tom continued, "I want a Wizard's Oath from you in return, swearing to never reveal my true identity or the full extent of my connection to Harry."

Harry blinked… did Tom just…? Wow. Harry felt like laughing again but he held it in because he knew it would come out sounding deranged. Tom was giving up literally nothing in return for an Oath that was worded so that if Hermione ever did find out the truth, she would still be forbidden from revealing it.

A Wizard's Oath wasn't as severe as an Unbreakable Vow—no one would die if they tried to break it, but it was still unbreakable in its own way, since it would use the participants' magic to enforce it—if Hermione tried to tell someone the truth, the Oath simply wouldn't let her speak or write or otherwise convey anything that would break the Oath.

"All right," Hermione said after a moment of consideration. "We have a deal. You first," she said boldly.

"Of course," Tom said, his tone mild. He held his wand in one hand and reached out the other towards Hermione, beckoning her closer. Hermione straightened her shoulders and then casually took out her own wand and walked over to Tom, reaching out with her free hand to clasp Tom's hand. "I'll do the incantation, and then we'll both state what we're swearing to, and the spell will seal the Oath. Are you ready?" he asked her.

Hermione darted a glance at Harry, who tried to look reassuring rather than on the verge of a panic attack, then she met Tom's eyes and echoed, "Ready."

"All right," Tom said. Then he lifted his wand, holding it pointed at the ceiling at about shoulder height and Hermione mirrored the movement with her own wand. "Magus Juramentum," Tom cast, before solemnly saying, "I hereby swear never to harm Harry Potter." A flare of silvery-blue light emerged from the tip of his wand and wrapped around his and Hermione's joined hands.

Hermione seemed to gather her courage for a moment, then she looked Tom in the eye again and said, "I hereby swear never to reveal your true identity or the full extent of your connection to Harry." A matching light from her wand encircled their joined hands, entwining with the light from Tom's wand before merging together and then disappearing with a dramatic flash.

Harry watched the two of them, who seemed to be having some kind of staring contest.

Finally Hermione pulled her hand away, then bluntly told Tom, "I still don't fully trust you."

Tom gave her a grim smile and said, "I would be concerned about your judgment if you did." Hermione blinked at him, as if she'd been expecting an argument rather than agreement. "Look, Hermione," he said casually but earnestly, "I've spent seventeen years in a state of semi-consciousness with my soul desperately clinging onto Harry's to survive. There aren't words to properly convey that experience, but—being connected to Harry changed me. His soul healed some of the damage that Voldemort," he said the name with a tone of utter disgust, "did to mine."

Hermione blinked, then said, "So when you kept saying you hated your 'father'…"

Tom shrugged one shoulder and somehow made the gesture look elegant. "Father, creator, worse half—whatever term you use, yes, I was being honest. I despise him."

Hermione studied Tom for a long moment with her arms crossed, then she asked, "How did you survive? Harry said that when Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on him in the Forest, it destroyed the Horcrux—er, you."

Harry was rather wondering how Tom planned to explain that as well.

Tom glanced over and caught Harry's eye, giving him an uncertain look that Harry felt certain was all for show. Then Tom asked, "Are you all right with me telling her?"

Harry blinked, held back another manic urge to laugh, then said, "Yeah, that's fine."

Tom hesitated, holding Harry's gaze. "Are you sure?"

Harry threw both arms in the air in frustration, not sure what role he was supposed to be playing. Nobody had given him his goddamned lines ahead of time. "I trust Hermione, all right? So if you want to tell her, I'm fine with it."

Tom nodded, then looked back towards Hermione instead. Very solemnly, he said, "Harry survived that Killing Curse in the forest because I took it for him." Hermione's eyebrows shot up, and Tom continued, "I shielded his soul with mine and it nearly destroyed me. But seventeen years of clinging to his soul formed a rather more permanent connection between us. I survived—barely—because Harry survived, and he kept me tethered to life."

Hermione looked stunned, and Harry thought Tom had probably managed to win her over with that. After a long moment, Hermione finally found her voice and asked, "But how did you get your own body?"

Tom gave her a wry smile and said, "I might've encouraged Harry to visit Azkaban to pick Voldemort's brain for a solution to that."

Hermione's eyebrows went up again, but this time she looked dubious. "And he just helpfully told Harry how to do it out of the goodness of his heart?"

"Oh, Merlin no. We blackmailed him," Tom said, smirking. "He told Harry what we wanted to know, and Harry exposed and ousted the guards who were giving him a little too much attention."

Hermione looked horrified at the reminder of the abuse that had gone on at the prison. Then she said, "So Voldemort knows that you're still alive, and that you're with Harry?"

Tom glanced away with a shifty expression that was probably deliberate, then he hesitantly said, "Well, no… Harry's wand might've slipped and Obliviated him so he forgot all about the visit."

Hermione shot Harry a glance that was half-relieved and half-disapproving, although she didn't really have any room to judge considering the way she'd used Memory Charms and Obliviation right and left while they were on the run.

"Oops?" Harry said dryly.

Hermione's lips twitched into a hint of a smile, then she nodded and said decisively, "All right. Tom, I—I'm going to be keeping a very close eye on you, but… I suppose I can trust you enough to keep Harry safe."

"That means a lot to me, Hermione. Thank you," Tom said, his tone sounding genuine. Harry wondered how Tom managed not to throw up in his mouth as he said it.

Hermione nodded, then looked over at Harry and asked, "Did you ever tell Ron that you were a Horcrux?"

Harry shook his head. "No—I don't see any way that conversation could ever go well."

Hermione wore a guilty expression as she nodded in agreement and said, "I never mentioned my suspicions to him either. I love him, but he isn't the most level-headed about things like this." She paused a moment, then asked Tom, "Does Kingsley know the truth, or does he really believe that you're Voldemort's son?"

"The latter," Tom answered. "I was able to create a convincing false identity and slip forged documents in the Ministry's records to corroborate it."

"I never told Kingsley about any of the Horcruxes," Harry offered, jumping at the opportunity to say something true for a change.

"And you Obliviated Voldemort… So the three of us are the only ones who know the truth?" Hermione asked.

Back to lying, then. Harry felt that deranged urge to laugh building again, but he held it back and simply said, "Yep."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, then she asked, "Why the bodyguard ruse, though?"

Tom answered, sounding slightly hesitant, "Because of our lingering connection, I have to stay close to Harry. It's…complicated. But 'bodyguard' made the most sense."

Hermione gave Tom a shrewd look and asked, "You aren't…drawing from Harry's power or life force, are you? The way the diary did with Ginny?"

"No, nothing like that," Tom assured her. "It just turns out to be a bit impossible to completely separate two souls after seventeen years of entanglement."

Hermione nodded, looking intrigued and slightly awed. "I honestly have so many questions."

Tom gave her a wry smile and said, "I don't have many definite answers, unfortunately. Harry and I are rather unprecedented, magically speaking." Tom glanced over and threw a small, fond smile at Harry.

Hermione looked back and forth between the two of them. "Tom, in the forest, when you shielded Harry," she paused and bit her lip, then asked, "did you know you would survive?"

Tom's expression turned solemn, and he answered, "No… but I knew it was worth it as long as Harry survived."

Oh come on, Harry thought—Tom was laying it on way too thick, there was no way Hermione was going to believe—oh.

Hermione looked near tears when she suddenly stepped close to Tom and threw her arms around him in a hug.

Tom froze, and his eyes darted over to Harry as if asking for help. Harry just grinned at him and silently mimed bringing his arms up to hug her back. Tom narrowed his eyes at Harry but cautiously put his arms around Hermione.

"It's quite all right," Tom told her, sounding uncomfortable.

Hermione pulled back and let go of him. "Sorry—I didn't meant to just pounce on you," she laughed awkwardly, and wiped at her eyes. "Just—thank you so much for taking care of Harry. For saving him. I—honestly I'm having trouble believing that someone like you could've come from Voldemort. The other Horcruxes we met were all violent and psychotic."

Tom nodded and said with a fond smile towards Harry, "Well, none of the other Horcruxes were lucky enough to spend seventeen years attached to Harry."

Hermione let out a quiet noise that sounded suspiciously like an "Awwww."

Harry blushed, then said, "Hermione, I'm glad you approve, but it's been a long day, and—"

"Right, sorry," she interrupted, giving Tom one more smile before walking over to hug Harry. "I'll leave you two alone for now, but we'll talk later, all right?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry said, hugging her back.

Hermione pulled back from the hug, then bit her lip and quietly teased, "Guess my Kevin and Whitney comparison was more apt than I realized." Harry rolled his eyes, but Hermione said, "You could've told me that he already did the 'dramatically throwing himself in front of you to save your life' thing."

Harry nervously rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Well, we weren't exactly planning on telling anybody the truth, so," he trailed off awkwardly.

Hermione nodded, then raised her wand and cast a Muffliato around herself and Harry.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "What?" he asked.

Hermione turned slightly so that her back was to Tom where he watched them from across the room, then she said, "All right—I've been playing up the whole trust and acceptance thing a bit, but just tell me honestly whether you're safe with him."

"Yes, I'm safe with him," Harry said. "So, what, you don't actually trust him?"

Hermione looked conflicted. "I mean—I kind of do actually, but he's still one of Voldemort's Horcruxes."

"A Horcrux that saved my life, and probably protected me a thousand other times that I don't even know about over the years." As Harry said it, he felt another pang of loss for the actual Horcrux that had been in his scar originally, the one that he'd so callously tricked Voldemort into destroying. The one he'd left to its suffering in his vision of King's Cross—he'd regretted not trying to help it ever since.

Hermione glanced curiously at Harry's scar, then asked, "Could you ever communicate with him before?"

"Er, no. That part's new…didn't happen until after the last Battle."

"And how exactly did he manage to get a body?"

"It wasn't anything horrible," Harry said, trying to be vague enough not to back himself into a corner. "Just a bit of blood magic."

Hermione studied him for a moment, then said, "You had to use Voldemort's blood, didn't you? That's part of why you went to Azkaban?"

Harry looked at the ground and nodded, hoping she would be satisfied with that much information. "Yeah."

"And these past few months, when you were being distant and withdrawn and avoiding us?"

Harry tried to smile and said, "There was a bit of an adjustment period with me and Tom. I didn't trust him all the way at first either. And then we were busy trying to make a body for him, so…"

Hermione nodded, then said, "Well, if he ever betrays you, or if you need anything at all, you know Ron and I have your back, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry said, giving her a genuine smile this time.

Hermione smiled back, then lifted her wand as if to dispel the Muffliatio.

"Wait," Harry said, before she could dispel it, as a sudden but rather insistent thought occurred to him. She paused and he said, "Erm, just—you're going back to Hogwarts, and well, I heard that Malfoy's going back too. Part of his probation. So, just—maybe watch out for him, I guess?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I can handle Malfoy, Harry."

"No, I don't mean 'watch out for him' like he's going to do something—I meant, just, make sure he's all right. If people are awful to him because of the war, you know. Just, stand up for him. Try to be his friend, if he'll let you."

He was giving too much away, he had to be—but at the same time, he imagined Eighth Year wouldn't be kind to Draco and he hated the thought of him being shunned and alone. Even though he had manipulated Harry, Harry had still cared about him very deeply once—had imagined a future together and everything. He didn't want Draco to be miserable.

Hermione's eyebrows had disappeared into her hair and she was giving Harry a scrutinizing look that he didn't like at all. "Harry..?"

Harry interrupted, "He saved my life back at the Manor. I just…he deserves a second chance."

Hermione was still giving him that look, but after a long moment she finally said, "All right, but if he keeps calling me a Mudblood I'm definitely going to punch him again."

Harry laughed and said, "That's fine with me. Thanks, 'Mione."

Hermione hugged him again, then said gently, "You know you can talk to me. About anything."

Harry nodded. "I know."

Hermione hesitated another moment, then pulled away and stepped closer to the fireplace. "Be careful with Tom, all right?" she said seriously.

"I will."

She nodded, then cancelled the Muffliato and turned around to cheerfully call, "Bye, Tom! Bye Harry," before Flooing back to the Burrow.

The flames died down, and Harry stood there for a long moment staring at the empty fireplace.

Then he started to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And he couldn't seem to stop once he'd gotten started, even when he really needed to pause for a breath.

"Harry?" Tom said from behind him, concern in his tone as he approached.

Harry laughed harder, but tried to speak through it. "You're—" pretending to be your own son and your own Horcrux and "—she just—" hugged you, Hermione Granger just hugged you and thanked you for taking care of me and you're the one who was trying to kill me all those years and "—they all—" just believe everything that comes out of your mouth because "—you're—" a bloody master manipulator and I'm never going to be able to remember all of these lies.

Tom stepped around in front of Harry, looking concerned and slightly wary. "Harry, calm down. Take a deep breath."

Harry just laughed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Tom's chest while he kept laughing. Tom's arms came up around him, and one of Tom's hands carded through Harry's hair. Harry clung tightly to Tom and laughed and laughed.

Gradually, Harry got control of himself and took deeper breaths while the hysterical laughter finally tapered off.

"Are you all right now?" Tom asked quietly, his hand still stroking slowly through Harry's hair.

"Yeah," Harry said, with another short laugh that sounded like it wanted to be a scoff instead. "Yeah, I'm great. I just need a fucking spreadsheet to keep track of which lies we're telling to which people. Or maybe one of those walls they always have on crime shows with photos and evidence and colored string linking things together. But no, other than that, I'm fine."

Tom was quiet for a moment, then he suggested, "Visualize it as a spider web. We're at the center and only we know the actual truth. Shacklebolt is outside of the center but the closest to it since he knows who I am and he knows about the slave bond. Hermione's only slightly farther out than Shacklebolt because she knows about the Horcruxes and believes me to be one of them. Perhaps halfway out would be your delightful Weasleys, who think I'm my own son. Then, much farther out at the edge of the web is everyone else who will simply believe me to be Thomas Smith, former Unspeakable and your current bodyguard."

That…actually kind of helped, to visualize it that way. Harry still scoffed and muttered, "Web of lies," under his breath.

Tom merely hummed in response, and his fingers were still stroking through Harry's hair.

"So in this metaphor of yours, you're the spider and the rest of us are just flies caught in your web, right?"

Tom pulled away from Harry just far enough to make eye contact, and he reached out with one finger to gently tip Harry's chin up. "You and I are both spiders, darling," Tom said, and then he kissed him.

Harry let his eyes slip shut and he kissed Tom back, but 'darling' was stuck in his head on a loop like a skipping record. Like a flashing neon sign. Like a red flag. And Harry wasn't a bloody spider, and both of them knew it.

Harry pulled back from the kiss and said in a blend of dismay and resignation, "You're doing it to me too, aren't you?" Tom raised an eyebrow at him, but before he could reply Harry continued, "I really shouldn't be surprised—you lie like you breathe, and everyone falls for it because you're so fucking charming. And I'm such a pathetic mess that I'm an easy target."

"Harry," Tom started, but Harry talked over him.

"No—I just watched you convince my friends of two entirely different lies, and you just—you tell people exactly what they need to hear, and you turn yourself into whoever they want to see so they'll trust you."

"I'm not lying to you, Harry," Tom said, sounding exasperated but also cautious of the turn the conversation had taken. "You know exactly who I am—I don't bother putting on an act for you because there's no point."

"Really?" Harry said sarcastically. "Bullshit—you just called me 'darling.' And earlier on the sofa you started flirting outrageously out of nowhere, and then you told me you wanted me to fuck you again."

"I told you—"

"You told me what I wanted to hear!" Harry interrupted. "Just like you did with my friends when you were manipulating them!"

"I can't manipulate you—it was one of the first orders you gave me."

"You can't 'maliciously' manipulate me—I remember the orders, Tom. So whatever you're doing isn't 'malicious' I guess, but you're still trying to manipulate me."

Tom scoffed, then said dryly, "Yes, into bed. What on earth could my mysterious motive be?"

Harry shook his head and said, "No, you were being..." he trailed off because he couldn't really think of the correct word for it, then he said instead, "You were acting like..." he trailed off, once again at a loss for words.

Tom scoffed and said, "Fine, next time I'll just say 'let's fuck' and throw you over my shoulder like a caveman."

That startled an involuntary laugh out of Harry, but he recovered and said, "I'd rather that than being lied to."

"I didn't lie about anything," Tom snapped.

"No, you just started acting like you wanted me out of nowhere after days of giving me those wary looks whenever I was too obvious about wanting you."

"Oh yes," Tom scoffed, "how dare I be wary at first when the person who has absolute power over me shows signs of attraction? The nerve of me."

Harry's anger faded a little at that reminder, and he said in a softer tone, "Tom, I've told you, I would never take advantage of you like that."

"And I believe you, now," Tom hissed. "You keep saying 'out of nowhere' but it wasn't out of nowhere, it was when I decided to trust you!"

Harry blinked. "Oh." He crossed his arms and stared down at the floor, then let out a humorless, nervous laugh and asked, "And, erm… did I just fuck everything up by being too insecure and demanding?"

"Quite possibly," Tom snapped in a cold tone.

Harry blinked up at him, then looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry."

When he dared to look back up he found Tom giving him a frustrated but thoughtful look.

After a long, fraught moment, Tom simply said, "It's fine." He started heading for the stairs and said over his shoulder, "Just come to bed. I hear make up sex is supposed to be amazing." Tom made it halfway up the stairs before he paused and realized Harry wasn't following. "Harry?"

Harry shook his head, suddenly doubtful again. "No… you're still not being honest with me. An argument like we just had—normally you'd avoid me for at least a day."

Tom narrowed his eyes and said, "True, but make up sex wasn't an option until now. So come along before I decide to ignore you after all."

"Tom," Harry said, very seriously, "why are you being so insistent about us having sex again?"

Tom blinked, then gave him a scornful look and said, "Fine, never mind. Just forget about it. Good night," and then he continued up the stairs.

"Tom!" Harry called, chasing after him, running up the stairs to catch up. He grabbed Tom's wrist in the hallway outside their bedroom doors. "I asked you a question."

Tom glared at him and pulled his wrist free. "If you're not interested, just tell me that instead of interrogating me."

"I'm not 'not interested,' you're just being really weird about it!"

"Good night, Harry," Tom said stiffly, turning away towards his bedroom door again.

"Tom," Harry said, reaching for his wrist again.

Tom wrenched his arm out of Harry's grip again, then turned and said viciously, "If this is how you treat your partners it's no wonder you've driven them all away."

Harry inhaled sharply, feeling the words like a knife through the heart.

Tom turned away again, but Harry's shock and hurt quickly turned into fury.

Harry glared at Tom's back and ordered, "Turn around and tell me the honest reason you're trying so hard to get me to fuck you again."

Tom turned around, his expression caught somewhere between fury and betrayal and wariness. "Partly because I want it," he answered, and he seemed to be struggling to stop any more words from escaping, but he lost that struggle rather quickly and continued, "but mostly because the slave bond has started drawing from my magic again and I'm afraid the consummation didn't fully take."

Harry blinked and just looked at him for a long moment. Ulterior motives, just like always—just like he'd told Tom, nobody ever wanted Harry for just Harry. It hurt a little bit more to be played that way after he'd explicitly told Tom about his insecurities, but he tried not to let it show. Harry's eyes stung a bit but he blinked it back and told himself that he was not going to cry in front of Tom.

Tom stared back, and he'd schooled his expression into that blank mask of his, but Harry could still see hints of wariness and anger in his eyes.

Finally Harry cleared his throat, trying to push down the hurt he felt, and he said, "Right. So is there a reason why you couldn't just, you know, tell me that?"

Tom looked at him in silence and didn't answer.

Harry sighed and asked, "How bad is it—the drain on your magic?"

"It's very slow, for now," Tom answered, "but if re-consummating the bond doesn't solve the problem, I'll need as much time as possible to find another solution before things get dire."

Harry nodded, because all of that made perfect sense. "Again, why didn't you just tell me?"

Again, Tom didn't answer.

Harry couldn't quite muster up the fury to give him another order, so he sighed and said, "Fine. I've never been less in the mood in my life, but," he paused to work out a way to phrase the next part without it being an order, and finished, "you're welcome to join me in my room if you still want to get it over with."

Harry reached for his own door, then left it open behind him as he stepped into his bedroom. He tugged off his shirt and tossed it somewhere near the closet as he headed for his bed. He heard the door close and turned around to find Tom standing just inside the room, his hand still on the closed door.

Harry looked away, undoing his trousers and stepping out of them along with his pants, leaving everything in a heap on the floor. He sat down on the edge of his bed, naked and conflicted and wishing he had a bloody time-turner. Or better taste in men.

Tom stepped into Harry's line of sight, still fully clothed. He waited until Harry glanced up at him and then he started to slowly unbutton his shirt.

Harry watched as Tom undressed, but even that didn't get him in the mood—he still felt horribly betrayed and he didn't understand why Tom had lied and put on a charade of wanting him instead of just telling him about the issue with the bond. Tom left his clothes in a pile on the floor with Harry's, then walked over to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

Tom leaned in for a kiss but Harry turned his head to avoid it and said in a hollow voice, "There's no need for that. It's just a quick fuck to re-consummate the bond, right?" echoing Tom's words from their first time.

"If you're going to be cruel this time then I'll skip directly to looking for other solutions," Tom said in a quiet but firm tone.

Harry sighed and stared down at his knees and said, "I'm not going to be cruel."

"Prove it then," Tom said, taking his turn to echo their first time, "kiss me."

Harry looked up and met Tom's eyes—only for a moment, that was all he could stand—and then he leaned in to kiss him. Tom kissed him back like he was trying to prove something—it was an insistent kiss but also a gentle one, an enticing one. There was maybe even a hint of an apology in it. Or maybe Harry was just seeing what he wanted to see—he was so good at that, after all.

After a long few moments of just kissing, one of Tom's warm, strong hands wrapped around Harry's cock and slowly started to stroke it. Harry's cock was still soft but it twitched in response to the touch. Harry reached for Tom's cock, because fair was fair, and he was surprised to find him already hard. He gave Tom a few lazy strokes as they kissed, and after a few minutes of Tom's attentions, Harry's cock was finally at half mast.

Tom pulled back from the kiss and tried to meet Harry's eyes. "Harry," he said quietly.

"I don't want to talk," Harry said, looking away. "Can we just—?"

He felt Tom looking at him for another moment, then Tom said, "Fine." Tom pressed another brief kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth before ducking his head down and—oh!

Tom's mouth was warm and wet and perfect around Harry's cock as he closed his lips over the head before slowly sinking down and enveloping him an inch at a time, his tongue laving at the underside of Harry's cock on the way down. Harry let out a moan and instinctively reached for Tom's head with both hands, threading his fingers through his hair as Tom's head bobbed in his lap. After a few long lovely moments of this Tom started to pull up, slowly, sealing his lips tight around Harry and sucking hard all the way up. When he pulled off with an obscene popping sound, Harry's cock was fully hard.

Tom glanced up at him and smirked. "More?" he asked.

Harry bit his lip and confessed, "Much more of that and I won't last long enough for what you want me for."

Tom frowned slightly, but then straightened back up and leaned in to briefly kiss Harry again. "Let's get on with it, then."

Tom climbed onto the bed past Harry and laid down in the middle of it, on his back with his knees drawn up and his legs casually spread. Harry looked at him for a moment, then stood and retrieved his wand from the pile of clothing on the floor. He cast a lubrication charm on his fingers, then carefully climbed into the bed and settled between Tom's legs, sitting up on his knees for now.

Harry glanced up at Tom's face, checking for any signs of hesitance or discomfort—but Tom just nodded at him and said, "Go on."

Harry nodded back, then focused on working first one and then two slick fingers into that tight hole, stretching him and easing the way. Two turned into three, and Tom was starting to press his hips up to meet Harry every time he pressed his fingers in.

"Is that enough?" Harry asked when he deemed Tom properly prepared.

"Yes, now get up here," Tom answered, a bit breathless.

Harry settled above him, propping himself up on one forearm near Tom's shoulder. His other hand reached down and spread the rest of the lube on his hand over his cock as he guided it into position.

"Go on," Tom breathed.

Harry pushed forward, past the tight ring of muscle and into the wet and welcoming heat inside. He went slow but didn't stop until he was all the way inside, as deep in Tom as he could go.

"Harry," Tom whispered, tilting his chin up.

Harry knew Tom was expecting a kiss, but instead Harry turned his head and hid his face against Tom's neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the dark ring of runes there. He kept his face hidden in Tom's neck as he shifted his hips to pull most of the way out and then slowly thrust back in, establishing a slow but steady rhythm.

He felt Tom's hands in his hair, gently but insistently pulling him up for a real kiss.

Harry kissed him back, and it finally occurred to him that this was probably the last time this would happen—Tom only wanted this because the consummation hadn't taken. He'd only been kissing and flirting with Harry because of that. And now that Harry was giving him what he wanted, there would likely be no more of it in the future. No more kisses, no more need for Tom to be nice to him and talk to him and Sit With him and pretend to care—it would probably go back to the cold and awkward silence of their first few days together. And Harry absolutely hated the thought of it. With that in mind, Harry stopped phoning it in and kissed Tom with everything he had, using every little trick he'd picked up over the years to leave him breathless.

"Harry," Tom said, but Harry kept kissing him. At least until Tom's hands came up and carefully pushed Harry's face back just far enough to make eye contact. Tom looked a little blurry but he looked worried too and that didn't make sense—Harry knew he'd been giving him a hell of a kiss. "What's the matter?" Tom asked, and he sounded concerned now too.

Pretending, Harry's mind chimed in—he's pretending to be concerned.

"Nothing," Harry said, forcing a smile and trying to lean back down.

Tom's hands stopped him again, gently framing his face and swiping just underneath Harry's eyes with both thumbs. Oh. Harry hadn't realized the tears he'd felt brimming had actually started to spill.

"It's nothing," he said again, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. Everything's fine."

"Harry," Tom said, his tone stern but soft at the same time.

Harry angled his hips and made sure to hit Tom's prostate on the next thrust in, effectively distracting him. Then he hid his face in Tom's neck again and kept going, trying hard to just focus on the physical sensations instead of his stupid emotions. He was close, even though he could tell that this wasn't going to be a very spectacular orgasm—his mind wasn't in the right place and his emotions were a mess, which meant it was going to be a purely physical release this time. But whatever—it would fix the bond, and that was all Tom wanted from him apparently.

Harry sped up his thrusts as he felt himself getting close. He made sure to hit Tom's prostate every other time—he wasn't sure how close Tom was, and it was bad bedroom etiquette not to make sure the person on the receiving end came first, but if Tom didn't come when Harry did then he could drag their last time together out a little bit longer.

"Harry," Tom said again, but this time it sounded more like a moan than a question.

In and out, again and again, a bit faster, a bit harder, hit the prostate—Harry was so close, so close, and then Tom's hand found its way into Harry's hair again, not gripping or pulling but simply running through it in those same comforting strokes, and that was what sent Harry over the edge. He thrust into Tom as far as he could go and stilled there, coming deep inside of him.

He let his head drop down to rest on Tom's shoulder while he caught his breath. The runes around Tom's neck briefly flashed with a bluish-white light before fading to their normal black. Tom's hand was still carding through his hair. Tom's cock was still hard between them. Harry took a moment to compose himself, then he sat up and carefully, reluctantly pulled out of Tom.

Without making eye contact, Harry asked, "Could you Accio my wand for me?" carefully phrasing it so it wasn't an order, just a request.

Tom held up one hand and wandlessly Summoned Harry's wand and handed it to him.

"Thanks," Harry said automatically. Then he reached around behind himself and cast a charm to quickly stretch and lube his own arse. The charm always felt rather rushed and uncomfortable, which is why most people preferred the old-fashioned way with fingers, but Harry was in a bit of a hurry.

Tom's eyebrows shot up, and he said, "Harry, what—?"

Harry leaned down to shut him up with a kiss, and he took the opportunity to readjust his position so that he was straddling Tom's hips. He pulled back from the kiss, finally met Tom's eyes, and then asked, "Yes or no?" as he leaned back just far enough for his arse to bump teasingly against Tom's erection.

It seemed like he'd managed to render Tom speechless, and he would've smiled if his emotions weren't such a mess right now. But if this was the last time, then he wanted to know how it felt to have Tom inside him. He wouldn't demand it, but he'd damn sure offer it.

"Yes or no, Tom?" he repeated.

Tom blinked, his hands smoothing up Harry's thighs almost unconsciously before gripping his hips. "The bond might not like it?" Tom said uncertainly, his inflection turning it into a question.

"I don't care if the bond likes it, as long as it doesn't punish you—I did my part for the bond. Do you want to fuck me or not?"

Tom swallowed, and when Harry dared to make eye contact he saw Tom's eyes darker than he'd ever seen them, his pupils almost swallowing up the red irises. "I—yes," Tom said, his grip on Harry's hips tightening a fraction.

Harry grinned, then reached behind himself to hold Tom's cock steady while he pressed back to meet it. He felt the blunt tip at his entrance and bore down, letting out an obscene moan as he sank down onto Tom's cock. It burned a bit as it stretched him, but he didn't slow down, he just kept going until he was fully seated with his arse on Tom's hips and Tom's cock balls-deep inside of him. Tom's grip on his hips tightened and Harry rather hoped he would have bruises tomorrow.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, watching Tom's face carefully for pain or for any signs that the bond was punishing him for daring to have his cock inside his Master.

"Amazing," Tom breathed back.

"No protests from the bond or anything?" Harry asked, just to make absolutely sure.

"None at all," Tom said.

Harry nodded, and only gave himself another brief moment to adjust, and then he raised himself up slowly until only the head of Tom's cock was still inside, and then he sank down again, faster this time, all the way down, and it burned so good and it pulled a moan from Tom and the sound of that moan burned even better.

Harry bit his lip and tried to keep quiet because everything he wanted to say right now would probably come out as an accidental order. He wanted to tell Tom to flip them over and fuck him like he means it. He wanted to tell him to grip his hips harder, to kiss him like this meant something, to put that comforting hand back in his hair, to want Harry instead of just the sex for the bond.

Instead, Harry said none of that and just rode Tom harder, his hands planted on Tom's chest for balance while his thighs burned with the effort of the constant motion.

It didn't take more than a few minutes for Tom to come with Harry's name on his lips in a choked-off moan. Tom used his grip on Harry's hips to pull him down as Tom thrust up and spilled inside him.

Harry went still, perched on top of Tom as he caught his breath. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to feel Tom slip out of him. He didn't want this to be over yet.

Tom sat up slowly, seemingly being careful not to dislodge Harry. He reached for Harry's face with both hands and drew him into a kiss. Harry kissed him back like this was the last time—because, hell, it probably was.

He let himself get lost in the kiss, and minutes or hours or days later Tom finally broke the kiss and said again in that concerned (fake! Harry reminded himself) tone, "Harry—"

Harry forced a smile and interrupted him, because he really couldn't handle any more pretending tonight, or any more false affection or concern. "You should probably go back to your room and let the bond settle," he said, careful to phrase it as a suggestion rather than an order.

Tom's brow furrowed and he said, "It doesn't need to 'settle,' that's not how this works. It's done."

"All right, good. Great. Good night," Harry said, finally—reluctantly—moving off of Tom and letting his cock slip out of him as he moved. Harry laid down next to him instead, but kept his eyes pointed straight up at the ceiling.

For a long, quiet moment, he could feel Tom just looking at him. Then, Tom moved closer so that he was pressed next to Harry, and he started to lay his head down on Harry's chest. Harry tensed and inhaled sharply, and Tom paused.

"Harry, what's wrong?" he asked.

"You can stop pretending now, Tom, honestly," Harry said, proud that although his voice came out a little wobbly it didn't actually break.

"Harry—"

"I think you should go back to your room now," Harry said loudly over him, still careful not to make it an order.

"I think we should talk about whatever has you so upset," Tom countered.

"We already did," Harry said, still staring up at the ceiling and avoiding looking at Tom. "I was stupid and wanted more than I can have like I always do, and you just needed me to fix the bond, and it's done now. Nothing to talk about."

Tom was quiet for a moment, and then Harry felt a warm hand grip his chin and turn his head to the side, forcing him to face Tom. "I know there's a brain in that skull of yours, so use it," Tom said. "Just because I used certain tactics to get you into bed and just because it was necessary for the bond—that doesn't mean that I didn't also want it and enjoy it."

"Why didn't you just tell me that the bond was drawing from your magic again? You had to have known I wouldn't say no."

Tom was quiet for a moment and then he said, "Order me to answer that truthfully." His tone sounded uncomfortable but also determined.

"I don't want to order you—"

"Yet evidently that's the only way you'll believe me," Tom interrupted. "Order me to answer that specific question truthfully."

Harry swallowed, then said, "Okay. All right." He paused for a moment, then ordered, "Tell me honestly why you didn't just tell me that the bond was drawing from your magic again."

Right away, Tom answered, "Because you considered the consummation rape even though we had to do it for the bond—it was uncomfortable to deal with your guilt and self-recrimination afterwards, and I find it distasteful to consider our liaisons nonconsensual. I thought that hiding the bond's involvement would avoid all of that this time."

Harry blinked, then turned his head to finally meet Tom's eyes. "You were trying to spare my feelings?" he asked somewhat incredulously. Yes, it was still manipulation, but it was the opposite of malicious.

Tom's lips twitched into a small frown and he replied, "Obviously it backfired rather spectacularly."

Harry looked up at the ceiling again, then looked back over at Tom. "I—Tom, that's… I really, really appreciate the sentiment, but I absolutely hate it when people lie to me or keep secrets from me, even if it's 'for my own good.' Please don't do something like that again, all right?" he said, careful not to make it an order even though part of him was incredibly tempted to.

Tom studied him for a moment, then quietly agreed, "All right."

Harry nodded and tried to stamp down the chorus of 'he DOES care' that was on a loop in the back of his mind and the accompanying rush of elation swelling in his chest. Don't get ahead of yourself. Don't read too much into it—this is still a really fucked up situation.

After another long moment, Tom quietly asked, "Do you truly want me to go back to my own room?"

Harry bit his lip, then carefully said, "You can go if you want…or you can stay, if you want."

"I'm asking what you want."

"I think you know that I want you to stay… But I also don't want you to feel like you have to."

Harry felt tired and wrung-out all of a sudden, and a yawn escaped him despite the gravity of their conversation.

Tom chuckled beside him, then said, "Come here."

Harry turned on his side towards him and moved closer to Tom, laying his head on Tom's bare chest and throwing one arm over him in a loose hug. Tom's arm came up around him in return, and Harry felt a small smile creep onto his face. The day had been a veritable emotional roller coaster ride, but it was ending with him falling asleep in Tom's arms, so he was feeling rather more optimistic than usual.

"Good night, Tom," Harry murmured against his skin.

"Good night, Harry," Tom murmured back.

Harry thought he felt gentle fingers stroking through his hair as he drifted into sleep.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It felt like he'd only been asleep for minutes when a persistent, loud tapping woke Harry up.

He mumbled something unintelligible and started to sit up only to realize there was a warm, heavy arm around him holding him against someone's bare chest.

Oh.

Right.

Tom.

Harry grinned into the darkness, reluctant to wake Tom up but really needing to let that bloody owl in so it would stop attacking his window at—whatever dark and ungodly hour it was. His wand was too far away to reach, and he hated the thought of calling for Kreacher and waking him up over a minor inconvenience.

He sighed, then slowly and carefully started extracting himself from Tom's embrace, trying not to wake him up. He almost succeeded, but Tom woke up just as Harry had managed to get out from under his arm.

Tom sat up and blinked at him a few times, then sleepily asked, "What time is it?"

"No idea. There's an owl," he said unnecessarily, as it was still tapping persistently on the windowpane.

"Yes, I can hear that. Let it in for Christ's sake," Tom mumbled before laying back down.

Harry bit back a smile and tried not to find it too adorable that the Dark Lord had just used a Muggle swear—and a sacrilegious one at that—while half-asleep.

Harry stood and went over to the window, opening it and taking the envelope from the grey owl, which flew off right away without waiting for a response. The envelope was plain and unremarkable, and the sender had only written 'Harry Potter,' on the front of it. One of the wards Harry had put up around Grimmauld Place was to repel cursed or harmful mail, so he wasn't too concerned.

Harry closed the window, then opened the letter.

It was short, written in red ink, and the handwriting was spindly and unfamiliar.

The letter said:

'Master Harry Potter—DING DONG, come out and play! Meet me in ten minutes in the courtyard out front. Bring your friend.'

It was signed with a smiley face, and everything about it gave him chills.

"Tom?" Harry called. "I think you should see this."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

A/N: dun-dun-DUNNNNN :)

Thoughts? Reactions?

Please let me know what you think of this chapter (especially in regards to character/relationship development because honestly I always end up second-guessing myself anytime I make a Big Decision in this fic lol).

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