LAST TIME ON SHADOWHUNTERS: Harry, under the effects of his mysterious illness, experiences dreams that chronologically distort his life, but all end in flames. In the hospital wing, Tom, Dumbledore and Hallpepper attempt to work out what's wrong with Harry, as his heartbeat slows and his temperature rises. Admittedly, Tom is more distraught than helpful. Hallpepper casts a spell that allows the group to see Harry's magical channels, which have been infected with something. She then realises that Harry's infection is being exacerbated by magic. She sets up a magic nullifying ward, and Tom realises the source of the infection: Harry's scars. Hallpepper opens them up the muggle way, and within them, they find sand. Hallpepper resolves to drain the scars, but Harry must be kept away from magic until his body can heal. Orion comes to visit (still furious at Tom), and recognises the sand due to his father's position within the DOM: time turner sand. Tom and Orion are left with a lot of questions. Orion and Tom become Harry's bodyguards and nurses, and Myrtle stops in. The week drags on, and Dumbledore tells Tom he must return to class. Tom only manages half a divination lesson before he wanders down into the dungeon, and is distracted by a door half open. Within it, he find Harry's corpse and is really quite perturbed- until he notices that it is a boggart. He rushes up towards the hospital wing and finds Harry just woken up. And then he kisses him.

Harry didn't realise he'd been kissed until it was all over. It felt like a second passed, and suddenly he was pressing a shaky hand to his lips and Tom was a metre away, panting.

"You kissed me," Harry said.

"Yes," Tom replied. He appeared frozen, eyes wide and panicked. He stretched out his fingers minutely, but he didn't seem to know quite what he was reaching for. Harry reached out to gingerly touch a misplaced strand of hair. Almost perfect.

Huh. So apparently, Harry was definitely bisexual. Septimus had made him wonder for a while there. Good to know. What was more alarming was his attraction towards Tom . But Tom was good-looking and ambitious and funny, and Harry felt more himself than ever when he was around him. Special and chosen for reasons other than his parents' deaths.

"You could do it again." Harry suggested.

Tom wordlessly leaned in again, and this time, the kiss was gentle. It was cautious and tentative, full of teenage fear and uncertainty.

When they pulled back, Tom's expression was unreadable. "I… was that okay?"

"Yes," Harry said, definitively. "It was." His brief moment of confidence evaporated, and he felt himself shrink back. "So, do you… 'like' me?"

Harry had gotten that vibe, since he didn't think Tom went around snogging people he disliked, but you could never tell. It might be some kind of devious revenge.

"The evidence would suggest so."

"And are we… 'something', now?"

"If you'd be agreeable."

Harry sat back, his head spinning a little. None of this felt real. He'd been awake barely half an hour and now he was up close and personal with Tom Riddle. And before that he'd been… wait.

It came flooding back.

"You bastard!"

"What?" Tom looked so shocked that Harry might almost have felt sorry for him, if he hadn't been completely fucking furious.

"You cut off my leg!"

"That was an accident-"

"Don't give me that bullshit. You splinched me!"

"I was angry-"

"Not an excuse," Harry said harshly. "Is that how this 'something' will go?" He adopted a high voice. "'Harry, you're really pissing me off! Oops! Now you're missing a leg .'"

"I wouldn't-"

"Really? Wouldn't you?" Harry snarled. There was a long silence.

"I didn't realise you could die ," Tom admitted faintly. "You were in pain and I- I was utterly useless."

Harry sneered. "That was almost heartfelt. Well done."

"Harrison, I'm sorry."

"And that makes it all okay?"

Tom stood, and Harry wondered if he would make a run for it. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that I didn't have cruel intentions, but I merely distracted you. I didn't know what would happen when you were splinched. I just… reacted."

"That's weak and you know it," Harry spat.

Tom looked away.

Harry clenched his fists, and before he could stop himself, the words were erupting from his mouth. "Why did you kiss me?"

Tom blinked, and although his mouth opened, he was silent.

"Come on? If a few days ago you were literally tearing me to pieces, what brought on the snog? A new, fucked-up way of torturing me? I swear to Merlin-"

"You were dead."

Harry's heart leapt up into his mouth. "What?"

"I held your body in my arms and you were dead ," Tom said, and his face was very pale.

Harry still felt very much alive, if achy, and so this news was understandably distressing. He slapped a hand to his pulse and slumped with relief when he felt the answering throb. "Well, I'm still breathing, so I'm not sure which corpse you fondled, but it definitely wasn't mine."

Tom drew a pained breath. "It wasn't real, exactly."

"What are you talking about?"

"It was my boggart."

Harry's world spun on its axis and resettled. His boggart. That meant Tom's greatest fear was… oh.

"It changed, huh?" he asked, the levelness of his voice disguising the rapid and uncontrollable thumping in his chest.

"Somewhat. Yes," Tom admitted. He glanced down at his lap and, for the first time in Harry's memory, he fidgeted . "It did."

"That's. Wow. Yes."

Harry's anger melted away. Oh, it was definitely still there (Tom had splinched his leg ), but this was fairly monumental. The future Dark Lord feared Harry's death most of all. Baby Voldemort feared Harry's death most of all.

Tom feared Harry's death most of all.

"So," Harry's lip twitched, "you care about me, huh?"

Tom flushed. "If you wish to be… explicit about it then, yes, I 'care about you'. If one can truly 'care about' anything, really. I-"

"It was sweet until you kept talking."

"That's fair." They sat in silence for a moment, and Tom watched Harry like he thought he might disappear any moment. "I just can't believe you're awake. When your heart stopped beating-"

Harry's attention zeroed in. "Hang on- I did almost die?! Like, for real?"

Tom blinked. "You didn't know?"

"Fuck, no! Do they know what was wrong with me?"

"You really weren't told?"

"Hallpepper told me I should be kept away from stress. Or death."

"Ignorance is bliss."

"Yeah, well, that's bullshit," Harry snorted. "So am I dying? Again?" The addendum slipped out before Harry could censor himself, and he saw Tom's interest pique. He rushed on. "Well?"

Tom hesitated, but allowed Harry to push past the slip. "It was your scars."

"What about them?"

A voice from the doorway: "They were filled with sand."

The silhouetted figure of Orion Black filled Harry with intense fondness. " Orion ."

"You're awake," Orion breathed, looking like he didn't quite believe it.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Really? I hadn't-"

Harry's sarcasm turned into a muffled ' oof !' as Orion threw his arms around him. Harry managed to squeak out an "injured, remember?" but Orion only slightly loosened his grip.

"I thought you were dead," he said fiercely. "They cut you open."

"Okay," Harry said, extricating himself from the hug. "Someone's going to have to tell me what's actually been going on, because now there's sand and surgery and this is all sounding very dire."

"You were burning up," Tom said, and when Harry glanced over, the other boy's face barely seemed to twitch. "And hallucinating."

"You seem inconsolable," Harry said drily.

Tom drew a haughty breath. "I kept my composure."

"He cried," Orion said gleefully.

"I can see that." Harry peered at the silver tear tracks on Tom's cheeks. They only made him look more irritatingly and tragically beautiful.

"I didn't cry ," Tom spluttered. "I- I- Orion Black, I will skin you ." He bared his teeth at a sniggering Orion, but Harry was mostly reminded of an infuriated cat.

"No, you won't," Harry said.

"No," Tom agreed, seeing Harry's expression. "I won't."

"So there was sand in my skin?" Harry asked, glancing down at himself.

"Well, after you collapsed and nearly died, we discovered that your attacks were exacerbated by magic but there was another, root cause. The infection, Hallpepper called it. And that's when we discovered the sand within your scars. Hallpepper-" Tom winced, "-drained them, and put you on a kind of 'magic ban'. That's what the ward is for."

So that was that reason for the empty feeling within him. He had no access to his magic. And, Harry mused, the reason for the bandages that encased him, and twinged whenever he shifted.

"But there's this thing about the sand," Orion said very delicately.

"Yeah?" Harry raised an eyebrow. Why did Orion look so shifty?

"So, you know my father works in the Department of Mysteries? Well, I've seen some of his work. Specifically, the time turner."

Oh no. Harry could see where this was going.

"I recognised the sand. It's the same as in the time turner."

"Ah," Harry said. He couldn't manage anything else. Tom and Orion were both looking at him expectantly and he was replaying that last image of golden sand raining down upon him and broken glass beneath his back and thinking they can't know the truth . "The time turner," he said slowly, stalling. "What would it look like?"

Orion frowned. "A normal hourglass, I suppose. About so tall," he held his hands about 20 centimetres apart, "and with a wooden frame."

Harry's palms began to sweat and he drew a hand across his forehead. This could be it.

It was then that he was hit with a burst of inspiration. It was rather brilliant, if he did say so himself.

"That's what the death eater was holding," Harry murmured, and committed himself to an even more elaborate backstory.

"What?" Orion asked, with a confused shake of his head that made Harry feel even worse about the pyramid of lies he was about to construct.

"During the attack on Bideford, I saw one of the men holding an hourglass thing, like you said. A time turner, I suppose. I tried to stun him, but my spell hit the glass and it exploded. The last thing I remember is golden light and burning. When I woke up, I was here. In the same village after the same attack, but it was all… different. My bedroom wasn't there, the streets weren't even called the same thing. Everyone was dead, but no one seemed to be looking for me. I tried to contact my grandparents and aunts and uncles, but they don't know who I am. It's like I never existed." Harry drew a deep, shaky breath and focussed on the stabbing pain in his calf to conjure tears. "And then I noticed other things. Where I come from, Grindelwald had different followers. The death eaters. That why I didn't recognise them at Hogsmeade. There are different authors, and spells- even Quidditch brooms aren't the same."

"An alternate dimension," Tom breathed.

"I'm don't belong here," Harry shrugged. "And I suppose this was just my body telling me the same thing." He smiled bitterly and realised with surprise that some of the tears prickling at the corner of his eyes were real.

He grunted as a body impacted with his, and Orion murmured into his ear: "You do, you absolutely do."

Harry squeaked. "Injured. Ow."

"Oh, sorry!" Orion coloured and jumped off the bed. "I forgot."

"Your mind is a mystery," Tom said with bemusement, and turned his stare upon Harry. "You never said anything about this."

Harry laughed uncomfortably. He couldn't tell what Tom was thinking. "How could I have told you? Or anyone? 'Hey, by the way, I don't technically come from around here.' 'This country?' 'No, this universe.' That sounds like a fun, normal conversation."

"At least you're telling the truth now," Tom allowed. "You are telling the truth, aren't you?"

Harry met Tom's gaze and knew he was doing something irreversible when he inclined his head and said "yes".

"I'm glad you're here now," Tom said. "At any rate."

"I miss my friends," Harry admitted. "The worst bit is the not knowing. I don't know how they're doing, what they're doing. I don't even know if they're still alive."

"They're fine," Orion said gently. "I know they are. And I'm sure they miss you too."

"No one survived here," Harry said, and even though he knew this was just a story, he felt his chest tighten. "They could all be dead."

"They're not dead as long as you believe they're alive," Tom said. "Schrödinger's cat."

"I'm not sure Schrödinger's cat works on a literal level."

Orion sat up suddenly and began patting his pockets. "Darn it."

"What is it?"

"I have to send Rigel and Meissa a letter. They wanted to know when you woke up. I think Meissa has a little crush on you." Orion beamed, and triumphantly produced a quill. "I'll be back in a bit!"

And then he scrambled out the door, leave Harry and Tom alone.

"How do you feel?" Tom asked carefully, and the question seemed especially crucial in the silence of the hospital wing.

"Well, I'm not on fire, so that's something."

"No, I meant… about us."

Harry took a slow and steady breath. That was the question, wasn't it? He studied Tom's face carefully, and he could see the stress in the way his lip twitched slightly, and the dark circles beneath his eyes. He hadn't slept for days. Harry had never seen Tom look anything less than perfect before.

"You will never physically harm me again," Harry said, very carefully, and even as he said it, he could see Hermione waving a big book of 'Red Flags in Any Relationship' at him. However, Harry truly believed Tom had never before really grasped the finality of his actions or the seriousness of consequence, and now he did. He just hoped he wasn't proved wrong.

"This is a test run," Harry continued. "I'm not weak, Tom. I'm not easily intimidated like one of your sycophants. I am your equal, and unless you can accept that, there's nothing between us."

He looked at Tom, who was gazing at Harry with such an odd mix of hope and surprise that Harry suddenly felt sorry for him. Everything Tom knew about Harry was built on a lie. Everything Harry had ever told him was twisted and manipulated to keep the truth hidden, and Harry was suddenly gripped by the chilling premonition that this was three thousand times worse than anything Tom could ever do to Harry. This would be the end of it all: the day Tom realise he was… 'something' with a figment of his imagination. A fairy tale.

With ice in his heart, Harry drew Tom's hand into his own.

"I can work with that," Tom smiled, and it was almost soft. And then he frowned, and it wasn't harsh, but thoughtful. "Was I there, in this other world of yours?"

Slit nose, red eyes, and sharpened nails pressed against his forehead.

"No," Harry lied. "Or at least, I don't know. I never went to Hogwarts."

"Oh. I felt like you knew me before we met. I suppose that comes from the seer thing."

"Mmm," Harry hummed non-committally.

"We're the same, after all. Alone."

"Not so alone anymore."

"Insufferably sappy," Tom said, but he smiled nonetheless.

"I mean, I was talking about Orion, but take it how you want."

Tom rolled his eyes. "As I said: "insufferable." And although Tom chuckled, Harry could see a shadow behind his eyes.

"You don't truly know if you're alone though, do you? Your family could be out there." Tom had once recounted how Mrs Cole had told him about the women that had given him up and died soon after and how she had talking longingly of Tom's father, who was still out there somewhere. "Your father."

"I killed my father."

"I'm sorry? You did what?" Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"I killed my father," Tom said expressionlessly.

"You killed who now?"

"My father. I tracked him down last year. He told me he didn't want me. He'd told my grandparents that my mother and I died together. And so I killed him.""

Harry was deeply disturbed by the blankness that settled over Tom's features. He'd much preferred the fury. "Tom- you can't just kill people. It's wrong."

"He called me a freak."

Harry sighed, but he couldn't deny that if he hadn't been desensitised to the idea of family by the Dursleys growing up; if he'd thought his family dead, realised he was wrong, and then been greeted by Vernon Dursley's purple face… he might have done something drastic too.

"Tom," he said, trying anyway. "You can't just… you just can't ."

"Why? He would have killed me ! He left me to die. He practically murdered my mother."

"If bad acts lead to bad acts, the world gets nowhere. Passing on hurt just creates more hurt."

"I let my grandparents live," Tom offered. "I thought of you."

Harry didn't know if it was sweet that Tom had thought of him when he considered murdering his grandparents, but it was something.

"You understand, don't you? Why I wished you hadn't killed him?"

"I'm not a child, Harrison." Tom clenched his jaw. "I don't need to be talked down to. I understand perfectly why you dislike what I did."

"But you can't feel it," Harry realised. There was something missing in Tom. "Did you feel sad after you killed him?"

"I did what I needed to."

"Have you ever felt regret? Or guilt?" Harry shifted closer to Tom on the bed and brought a hand up to touch his face. He stroked a thumb over the skin in front of Tom's ear. Tom looked shocked at the contact, but didn't object.

"I feel guilty that I hurt you. And I regret that I… complicated our association."

"Merlin, Tom, speak English."

"If you can't comprehend a more complicated lexicon-"

" Tom ."

"-Then fine. The answer to your question is yes, I've felt both regret and guilty. But only, really, in relation to you."

It was rather sweet, actually.

"That was almost romantic. Well done."

"Still not a child." Pause. "Slughorn says hello, by the way. He said he's not very good with blood."

Harry snorted. "Tosser."

Hallpepper forced Tom out in order to give Harry 'space to rest', so the pair shared an awkward glance and Harry was left alone. He heaved a deep sigh. Without the intensity of Tom's presence, his crimes (limb-removal, patricide and general dark lordiness) suddenly seemed a lot more, well… criminal.

"I'm dating Voldemort," Harry muttered. "I'm in a relationship with Voldemort. What the fuck."

"That didn't look like a relationship to me."

Where did that voice come from? Harry glanced around. Bloody-! "Mrs Dumbledore!"

"Kendra, please." She scowled down at him, but he didn't think he mistook the kind glint in her eyes.

Harry wasn't sure he wanted relationship advice from the portrait of his teacher's mother, but it was all he had. "…You don't think it's a relationship?"

"Well, to be frank, you looked torn between calling the Aurors on Riddle and killing him yourself. A relationship can't be so one-sided. You both have to trust each other equally, and he's clearly put more in than you have."

Harry didn't think he'd ever be labelled less emotionally open than Tom Riddle, but apparently that day had arrived. Hang on- if she'd be listening…

"You can't tell anyone what he said," Harry said urgently. If she told Dumbledore that Tom had killed his dad, he could only imagine what would happen. Azkaban, to say the least. Maybe even the dementors.

"I'm not a gossip," Kendra said haughtily. She smirked. "Besides, I'm always an advocate for young love."

"Right…" Harry agreed uncertainly. He wasn't sure murder counted as gossip, but he wasn't going to argue. "So you won't tell anyone about this?"

"Who would I tell? My son?" Kendra pursed her lips. "It could do Albus some good to not know everyone's private business."

That seemed like a healthy family dynamic. But Harry did want to talk about his problems, so he'd take it.

"Right. So, er, in the future, Tom is going to do some really bad stuff. Or was. Or might still, but I don't really know- point is, Tom's got the potential to do some really bad things. How am I supposed to trust someone like that?"

Kendra crossed her arms. "And you think you don't?"

"Don't what?"

"Have the potential for bad?"

"No, I didn't-" Harry spluttered. "I'm sure I do but-"

"Don't you think I have that potential?"

"I barely know you, it hardly seems fair-"

"Don't you think Albus has that potential? Or Millicent? Or that excitable boy with the pretentious name?"

Harry bristled at the insult to Orion. "You called your son Albus Percival Wulfic Brian."

"That was Percival's doing." Kendra waved it away. She sighed. "Let me tell you a story. You cannot tell anyone about this, you understand?" She fixed Harry with a stern glower, and he nodded quickly.

Kendra settled herself into her chair. "After I died, Albus got himself into some… questionable politics. He found himself friends with a young lad called Gellert Grindelwald-" Harry startled at the familiar name, "-and starting talking poppycock about 'the greater good' and wizards ruling over muggles. As if he didn't go 'round to papa and nan's house every Christmas for a nice muggle lunch. And there was something else between those two. Longings . At that point, I'm sure Albus had potential to do bad. A lot of potential. He always was a brilliant boy." And she said this no small amount of bitterness.

Harry was enraptured. "But he didn't go bad."

"Whilst I object to your rather simplistic definition of 'good' and 'bad', no, I suppose he didn't. He fell in with the 'right people'. He was guided away from that path. But if you think that Albus, at least for one, singular second, couldn't have become just as bad as Grindelwald, then you're wrong."

"But I know what Tom will become." Harry ran a hand through his hair, green light flashing in his mind. "It's… it's pretty bad. Infamously bad."

"Do you truly believe that, in the time you've been here, he hasn't changed?"

Tom had, hadn't he? Harry had seen that change, when Tom supported him against blood prejudice, publicly, at least. And Harry wondered if the Riddle at the beginning of sixth year would have admitted feelings for anyone. No. No, he wouldn't. Never mind let his boggart be transformed. Still…

"But… I can't have made that much of a difference. No one can."

"My dear boy, you have to let people change. Nobody is born evil and stays that way. We make decisions and have experiences, and they transform us. I'm not saying everyone should be absolved of guilt if they stroke a puppy- there are some real arseholes out there and I wish Morgana upon them- but there is something to be said for rehabilitation. Riddle has expressed remorse. Seemingly, genuine remorse. That's more than what 50% of the population manages."

Harry glanced down at his hands.

Kendra snorted. "For god's sake, snog the boy and if he murders anyone else, you can dump him. You're not getting married. You're not eternally bound if you go on a date."

"That's true," Harry said, and the reminder was like a shock of icy water. For some reason, he'd been thinking of this as a 'forever or never' kind of deal.

"That's what I'm here for, apparently," Kendra muttered. "Once you die, you get to be a therapist for all the idiots who still have heartbeats."

"Yeah, well, thanks."

"You're welcome."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Oh, were you waiting for me to leave?"

"Kind of."

"I didn't realise-"

"Well, I have to sleep here, so…"

"No, that's fine. I'll just go… tut at Albus."

"Have fun."

Harry had to admit that his pleasure at seeing Tom the next morning was dampened by the huge pile of books in his arms.

"You do realise that we know what's wrong with me now," Harry said uncertainly. (He had been privileged enough last night to receive a detailed explanation from Hallpepper about the elaborate journey she had embarked upon to heal him, once she realised Tom had spilled the beans about Harry's near-death escape.) "No more research necessary."

Tom smiled, but as he set the books down at the foot of Harry's bed, he was all business. "I was informed by Madam Hallpepper this morning that your magic ban will be lifted by the end of April."

"I feel like I should be the one told about these kind of things," Harry grumbled.

"But you're weakened and delicate," Tom said, and from his grin Harry knew they were both remembering the other day, where Harry had proved the exact opposite.

"Anyway," Tom continued, pulling yards of parchment out of his bag. "That means- wait for it, contain your excitement…"

"I'm buzzing," Harry said drily.

"That means… you'll be able to take your NEWTs!"

"Oh. Yay."

"And so you've got catching up to do." Triumphantly, Tom set a handful of quills down on the bed. "And I'm going to help."

"Oh, so hot," Harry said flatly. "Seduce me with ink, Tom."

"I can seduce you if you want," Tom smirked, sliding across the bed. And suddenly he was leaning over Harry and he had never seemed taller or more all-consuming. His arms braced on each side of Harry's head, encaging him. A hot shiver ran up Harry's back.

And then he remembered Kendra's words.

"No," Harry said firmly, and pushed Tom aside.

"Harrison, I-" Tom furrowed his brow, and it was blatantly clear he had never been rejected before in his life- at least not in that way.

Harry took a breath and finally made up his mind. "We're not in a relationship, Tom. We're not 'experimenting' or 'casual'. We can't be."

"Why not?" Tom pressed closer again. "Yesterday, you were quite eager."

"I had a think, and a talk, and I realised that… that I can't trust you, Tom. I don't trust that you won't hurt me." Harry put a hand up to stop Tom's interruption. "I don't trust that you won't hurt other people. Time after time: Lestrange, Myrtle, me- your father even, you hurt people. I've given more chances than I can count."

"But you can trust me," Tom scoffed. "Because I… 'care' about you. I would protect you-"

"A few weeks ago, you deliberately sent me into a void where you knew I could lose anything from a kneecap to a torso." Harry shook his head. "I don't believe anyone can change that much."

"You're wrong-" Tom tried.

"Then I'll be wrong. But I'll be wrong and safe."

Tom let out a growl of frustration and sprung to his feet. He prowled across the hospital wing for a few paces, and suddenly shot a blasting spell towards the window. He contemplated the broken pane for a moment, tattered curtains swaying mournfully, and then fixed the wall with a frustrated jab.

"You hurt people," Harry murmured.

"I wouldn't hurt you," Tom said, turning with something like desperation. "Not again."

"Stop it, Tom." Harry turned away. "Stop." As he did, his foot brushed against something. He glanced down. "A newspaper. But… why did you bring me that?"

"The wizarding world is at a turning point," Tom said. "Grindelwald was spotted by a community down in Devon. There were no casualties, but the newspapers are going driving themselves mad trying to work out what he's planning."

"In Devon? But… what even goes on in Devon?"

"Dark lord invasions, apparently. Look, it hardly matters- Harrison. Give me a chance. I know what I want now. I've thought about it too, and I know . I want you." Tom reached out his hand and it would have been so easy to take it.

But Harry couldn't. He wouldn't let himself.

"You're an island, Tom Riddle," Harry clutched his bedsheets tight. "And you don't build bridges."

"You stupid boy," Tom snarled. "That's what I'm doing ." He hesitated, and for a precious second, anything could have happened. Then he turned on his heel and stormed away.

He didn't come back.

Harry lay down in bed and stared up at the ceiling. His mind seemed perfectly blank and the ceiling incredibly interesting. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. Oh . So this was sadness.

He turned on his side and wept for loss.

Harry's moroseness lasted through the morning into lunchtime, and Orion noticed fairly quickly.

"Harry!" he gasped, dropping a bunch of flowers to the floor. "What's wrong?!" He crossed the hospital wing and drew Harry into a hug.

"Still injured," Harry said, but even that was half-hearted.

"What happened?" Orion scanned Harry's face and felt his forehead for a temperature. "Are you sick again?"

"No. Just tired." Harry smiled slightly. "You know, you don't have to bring flowers every time you visit. I'm overrun."

"It's tradition," Orion said strongly. "But don't distract me. You're sad. Is it…" Orion lowered his voice. " Your other home ?"

"No," Harry smiled fondly. "It's not. It's… it's Tom."

Orion's jaw clenched. "Did he hurt you again?"

"No! No, not really. It's-it's emotional."

"Did he break your heart? That's just as bad, Harrison, you don't have to pretend- this sort of thing can really hurt. I ought to know-"

"No," Harry said, sinking a little from shame. "No, he didn't break my heart. You see, I think I might have, sort of, b-broken his."

"Harry," Orion said quietly. "You're crying."

"Y-yeah," Harry agreed, laughing shakily. He wiped his eyes. "I can't seem to s-stop doing that."

Orion rested a hand over Harry's, a comforting anchor. "What did you do?"

"He- he kissed me. And wanted a relationship, I suppose. And I said no, that I couldn't trust him. I mean, I basically said he was a sociopath- it wasn't my most sensitive moment, and there is stiff competition for that, let me tell you-"

"Harrison," Orion said, stopping Harry's rambling tirade in its path. "Why don't you trust him?"

"He hurts people, Orion. You know that. You've lived in a dormitory with him for seven years."

"Yes, I have. And I won't say Tom is… morally sound, but he has been different since you've got here. He did a terrible thing with the splinching, yes. And I was very vexed, don't worry." Orion wrinkled his nose, and even his anger was adorable. "But…" Orion reached out to touch Harry's cheek and his finger came away wet. "You're letting him hurt you like this. I know what it's like to… force self-punishment on yourself because you don't think you deserve love. You have the power now. Take it. Be happy." Orion shrugged. "One of us has to be."

This time, it was Harry who pulled Orion in for a sideways hug. "You're the best friend I've ever had. I wish you'd let yourself live ."

Orion choked with laughter. "Take your own advice, idiot."

Harry clutched his chest in mock outrage. "'An idiot'? From Orion Black? Well, now I know it must be true."

Orion snorted. "Shut up. Idiot."

The two lingered, clutching tight to one another. Harry had never felt safer.

"I was so scared you were going to die, Harry," Orion muttered suddenly. "You can't die. Why does everyone die?"

"Hey," Harry soothed. "No one died. I'm not going to, they know what's wrong now. And you said Rigel was on the mend, remember?"

"I have a feeling," Orion said, and he pulled back to look Harry directly in the face. The emotion behind his eyes was haunting. "We're on a precipice, Harry. I know it."

"That's… not ominous at all," Harry chuckled. "Have you and Cassius been exchanging notes?"

"Don't laugh. I just… I have this feeling, okay? The precipice."

"Everything's going to be fine." Harry didn't know how he ended up the comforter in this conversation. "This is just a rough patch."

"Tom cares, Harry," Orion said urgently, like it was the most important thing in the world for Harry to understand. "He can't show it, but he does. Or he's starting to, at least"

"I believe you," Harry said. He didn't even know if he was lying anymore.

They sat there for silence for a few minutes, listening to the clock tick. And suddenly Orion said: "I have a runes convention next week. Sorry."

"…What?" A surprised laugh erupted from Harry. And then another. And then another. And then he was roaring with mirth and Orion was joining in, and Harry was so delirious that he just couldn't stop. "That's fine," he gasped. "That's fine."

On the morning that Harry's final bandages were removed, his bed was opened up to group visits.

"HARRISON!"

There were only two people who could put that much excitement into their voice, and one of them was at a runes convention.

"Chloe," Harry said, sitting up in bed. "And… the whole team. Hi."

"We brought vegetation," Rachel said flatly, and set a small plant down on the bedside cabinet, sparing a dubious glance at the veritable forest that had sprung up thanks to Orion.

"Er, thanks, I guess," Harry said, and poked a leaf curiously. It fell off.

"I forgot to water it," Chloe admitted. "I was worried about you."

"Hey, arsehole!"

Ah. He'd been wondering where Bea got to.

"Hello Bea," Harry said, and smiled at the furious girl. He had missed her.

"Guess what?" she spat. "Whilst you were swooning, we lost the match."

For the past few weeks, Quidditch had been the last thing on Harry's mind. Still, hearing that they had lost… a little stone dropped in his stomach. "Oh."

"Yes: 'oh'." Bea's expression was acidic. "We had to use Smythe. She threw up. Again."

"What happened to Hughes?" Harry asked. Out of all the people at that try-out, the girl who hadn't been able to get on her broomstick wouldn't have been his first choice.

"He had an exam," Chloe said brightly.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "He was sulking. Apparently, some people don't like being second choice."

"I wish you wouldn't put it like that." Chloe frowned. "He was simply a… another option… should the first… not be- yes, okay, Hughes was a second choice. We're all second choices sometimes." She lowered her voice to a bitter mutter. "Al chose Carol over me."

"Yes," Rachel soothed, putting an arm around Chloe. "Yes, we know." She aimed a hard glare at Bea. "Do not start this again."

Harry wondered what drama had been going down in his absence.

"There are more important things happening right now," Bea said sneeringly. "Grindelwald launched an attack in London. But no, let's all worry about Babbage's personal drama."

Harry frowned. "Grindelwald did what ?"

"I suppose you didn't hear," Matthew Stein said. "There were only eight casualties, but it's been big news. It's escalating: first Devon, now blood spilt in London…"

"Something will stop him soon," Harry reassured the room. "I promise."

Bea crossed her arms. "They said for a while that Dumbledore would do something. He's supposed to be the best wizard around."

Knowing now what Harry knew about Dumbledore and Grindelwald in their adolescence, Harry wondered how Dumbledore would muster up the strength to face his childhood sweetheart. Or even fight against a cause that he still, somewhere, believed in.

Harry's certainty that this would all be resolved, slipped.

"But enough talk," Matthew said. "We can't do anything about it. How have you been?" And he took a seat in the chair by Harry's bed.

"Uh, dying, mostly."

Harry regretted his words when the entire team (including Leo Piper, who'd been staring thoughtfully out of a window) turned to him with a horrified expression.

"I thought that was just a rumour!" Chloe gasped. "I know Warren said- but no one believed her- still!"

"I meant… really bad hay fever, y'know?" Harry laughed nervously. "Snot everywhere."

Maddens curled a lip. "Ew."

"Harrison, you have a terrible sense of humour," Chloe giggled. "Dying! Imagine. Well, I'm glad you're better anyway. I'm sure Tom is, too."

"Tom?" Harry asked, perking up at the name. "What about him?"

"Oh, he was miserable while you were gone. You'd have thought you were dying, from the way he was carrying on. We barely saw him, but when he did come out, he looked like he hadn't slept for days, didn't he?"

The Quidditch team nodded in agreement.

"It was pathetic!" Bea piped up.

Harry's lips twitched. "So he was… upset?"

"Upset?" Bea snorted. "Sure. That's one word for it. 'Cuckoo' is another. And this last week… Merlin's balls, I've wanted to slap him."

"He wasn't looking his best," Matthew said diplomatically.

Tom, Harry realised, had allowed other people to see weakness. Perhaps not knowingly, but he had. Harry felt an overwhelming something rise within him. He didn't know what it was.

It was like a message from Merlin when Tom walked through the door, followed by Atticus.

"But if you'd only give me your notes, I promise I'll-" Atticus stopped in his tracks when he noticed the room full of people. "Oh. Hello Peters. I heard you were up."

"Keep working on that empathy," Harry said absently, but he had eyes only for Tom. Tom who looked nervous. Tom who had lost sleep. Tom who had sat by his bedside. Tom who must have heard that his bandages were off. Tom who had cared .

And then Harry was rising out of the bed, crossing the room with unsteady, painful steps, grabbing onto Tom by the shoulder, and pulling him into a kiss. And for a moment, there was only Tom and Harry, alone in the vast universe, until the kiss ended.

"I take it I'm off probation?" Tom asked, but despite the irreverence, his smile was the biggest Harry had ever seen.

"No," Harry said firmly. "I haven't forgotten, Tom. I'm just… temporarily forgiving. This isn't a forever kind of deal- it can all end."

"I know," Tom said, and his expression made Harry suspect he was seeing his boggart all over again. "But for now?"

"For now, we'll see." Harry smiled, and clasped Tom's hands in his own.

"What is going on?" Atticus' screech drew their attention. Harry was reminded that there were most definitely other people in the universe- the room, even. And they were all watching him with shock- Atticus most of all. "Are you two fucking?"

"Not currently," Tom shrugged.

Harry shoved him. "Shut up, Tom. We're trying something," he addressed the room. "Emotional."

"That is so cute!" Chloe squealed, clapping her hands together. "We all had a bet that Tom was that way inclined, but we never guessed about you , Harrison."

"'We'?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Just a few girls," Chloe dismissed. Harry suspected the news would be around the entire school before the hour was out.

The rest of the team got used to it fairly quickly, and there was a rumble of "suspected something was happening", "far too many lingering glances", and even though Bea seemed bizarrely disappointed, she still managed to tell Harry that he hadn't made a "too terrible" decision. Atticus, however, was another story.

"This is wrong," Atticus spat.

"I thought you said wizards were mostly fine with male homosexual relationships?" Harry muttered to Tom.

Tom hummed. "Well, there are those with little hang ups…"

"Great."

Atticus gestured wildly. "Really? You with him? Him ?" He pointed at Harry.

Ah. So it was less a problem with the penis, and more a problem with who it belonged to. Great.

"Yes, me," Harry said.

"I know he's powerful, but really ? Him ?"

"What, Atticus? Did you think it would be you?" Tom asked, rather cruelly. Harry didn't stop him.

Atticus flushed hot red. "I- I. This isn't you, Tom. Last year-"

"Last year, I could still stand the sight of you. Things change." Tom smiled beatifically, and Harry watched with uncertainty as Atticus's face fell. And then he remembered how Atticus had honestly endorsed the subjugation of muggles, and his sympathy dwindled somewhat.

"This is wrong," Atticus repeated futilely, and with one final glance around for support (he found none), Atticus marched out of the Hospital Wing.

It was then that Harry noticed the suspicious downstairs breeze.

"…Am I only wearing a hospital robe?"

"Yes," Tom said, smirking at him. "Yes, you are."

Okay, so yes, this was a very 'let's all sit down and talk our feelings out' chapter. But you need that sometimes! Don't worry, big stuff coming soon :)

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