I do apologize for making everyone wait another week for the visit, but this chapter just wasn't ready yet. Here it is, a rather long chapter--I hope you'll find it worth the wait. XD

Review, please!

Chapter 16

Having been unable to fall asleep before two, maybe three, the previous morning, Harry slept quite late on Saturday morning, until noon. Mike and Rhonda were spending a rare Saturday at their office to make up for the week they had taken off, and had already left. They had said their goodbyes the previous evening. Harry, knowing that he needed to leave at one, immediately rushed out of bed. As he threw open the door, he found Hermione standing in front of it, poised to knock.

"Hermione! Why did you let me sleep so late?" Harry exclaimed.

She looked confused. "I didn't think you were leaving until one."

"I'm not, but it's already noon, isn't it?"

"Well yes, but you don't usually need more than fifteen minutes to get ready. You don't usually sleep late, so I assumed that if you were, you must need it, and I didn't want you to be tired later," she finished, a knowing smile growing over her face.

"Yes, but today, I need more time! I've got to get in the shower!"

Hermione laughed as Harry bolted past her into the bathroom, peeling off clothes as he went. She picked up the clothes that had been thrown to the floor and went to put them in Harry's travelling bag. Opening up the bag, she ruffled through the clothes until she found the items she was looking for.

When Harry had finished his shower and returned to the guest room wrapped in a towel, he found an outfit laid out on his bed. It was some of the muggle clothing Hermione had helped him order, specifically, an emerald green button-up silk shirt and a tight pair of black denims. They weren't Harry's favourites, but Hermione and Ginny said he looked good in them, and he thought they were probably better judges of such things than he was. He smiled, knowing that Hermione wanted to help him look his best for his visit to his 'boyfriend.'

He finished getting ready, and even added a splash of the magical cologne Remus had gotten him for Christmas. Instead of having a specific scent, it was simply charmed to smell good. No one would be able to say precisely what it smelled like, but they would enjoy the scent. From smelling the bottle, it seemed to Harry like it worked.

He'd packed up most of his things the night before, so all he needed to do was put a few last minute things away. He glanced around the room to make sure he hadn't left anything behind, made up the bed, and then grabbed his bag and went downstairs.

"Harry! You look wonderful. I'm sure this mystery boy of yours will be thrilled to see you."

Harry smiled. He didn't think he was all that much to look at, especially not when compared with Tom, but he knew from experience that arguing with Hermione never got him anywhere. "Thanks, Hermione," he said, while giving her a small hug.

"What is that cologne you're wearing?" she asked after they separated. "It smells good, but I can't quite say what it smells like."

"I guess it's working then. Remus gave it to me for Christmas, and that's exactly what it's supposed to do."

"Yes, it works quite well. I wonder if they make it in a woman's perfume."

"If they do, I'll get you some," Harry promised.

"Harry! You don't have to buy me anything!"

Harry shrugged. "No, I don't have to. But I'd like to. I can't thank you enough for inviting me to come home with you this week. It's been absolutely wonderful."

Hermione smiled gently and a little bit sadly. "Thank you for coming. I'm so glad that my parents finally got to meet you. They still don't really understand about school, and it's nice to be able to show them that I'm not just making things up. Now," she said, with more than a trace of the bossiness she was famous for, "you'll send me an owl when you get there, right? I want to know that you've arrived safely."

"Actually," Harry began nervously, "I was hoping that you might keep Hedwig here with you for the week. I'll be in the muggle world, and I don't want to make anyone suspicious or uneasy by carrying an owl around with me."

"Of course she can stay here, Harry, but I'd still like to know that you're okay. Maybe you can just send her to me after you get where you're going."

"But then I'd have to travel with her, and she hates the Knight Bus. But," Harry said, with an ironic smile, "I think I can probably use one of those 'fellytones' I've heard so much about."

"Oh," Hermione replied, blushing. "Yes, I suppose that just might work."

The two friends finished saying their goodbyes, and at one pm on the dot, Harry walked out to the sidewalk and stuck out his wand arm. A minute later, he was climbing aboard the Knight Bus, waving goodbye to Hermione as he did.

He was wearing a hooded jacket, partially due to the chilly March weather, and partially to cover up his hair and his scar. He'd also decided to borrow the scarf that Helga had made for Tom. With his most well-known features hidden from sight, and in Slytherin colours, no one recognized him, and he was able to journey from Leeds to London in peace. Well, as much peace as anybody else on the Knight Bus, anyway.

He disembarked two hours later at Trafalgar Square. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he began the short walk to the Sofitel London St. James Hotel.

Upon entering the lobby, he couldn't help but be impressed. He didn't know the first thing about décor, but he knew by the elegance of the building that it was an expensive hotel. He was suddenly very glad that he was not still wearing Dudley's old things. He'd likely have been kicked out dressed like that.

Feeling slightly nervous, he approached the reception desk. A middle-aged woman in a blue business suit greeted him. "Good afternoon sir, welcome to the Sofitel St. James Hotel. May I help you?" Though her greeting was warm, her eyes regarded him suspiciously. Harry supposed he did look a little young to be checking into a hotel by himself, especially such an expensive one.

He drew himself up, and did his best impression of Draco Malfoy. He had to make her believe he was the spoiled child of a wealthy family, making the most of his school holidays. If she thought he was some sort of runaway, she might call the police.

"Yes," he drawled, putting on his best superior smirk. "I have a reservation for the week. The name is Peverell, Dominic Peverell. And I'll need a bellboy. My bag is rather heavy."

The woman's eyes went from suspicious to slightly irritated, and Harry knew he'd done his job. "Of course, sir. Just one moment." Her fingers flew over the keyboard. "Here it is. The Prestige Suite for seven nights, prepaid." She handed him an envelope embossed with the hotel logo. "Here is your key. James will take you to your bag and show you to your room," she finished, motioning to a young man in a porter's uniform.

"Thank you," Harry said, with the air of one who says it out of a sense of duty to maintain societal standards rather than any genuine sense of gratitude.

He was led to a room on the fifth floor. James opened the door, set his bag on a waiting luggage stand, and showed him where the light switches, refrigerator, and remote for the telly were. Harry pulled out a five-pound note and slipped it to James as they shook hands.

The porter took the tip with a small smile, and said, "Thank you, sir. Will you be requiring any…special services during your stay with us?"

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, not having the faintest idea what the man was talking about.

"Are you interested in any recommendations for your entertainment this evening?" the man said, his eyes moving significantly to the king-sized bed and back.

Harry, finally catching on, almost spoiled his act by blushing. But he caught himself, and instead replied, "No, thank you. I've already made arrangements for my entertainment."

The man nodded. "If there is anything you require, please don't hesitate to call the bell desk. Someone is on duty twenty-four hours a day." With that, he left, and Harry was alone in the room.

If it hadn't been clear enough before, now it was completely obvious that Tom had gone to a great deal of expense to provide this room for Harry. It was, as the name implied, not just one bedroom and one bathroom, but almost an entire house. The first room was a living room, with a huge fireplace, three couches, two armchairs, and a large television. Then there was a small kitchen, equipped with a refrigerator and a microwave. The bathroom had a gigantic spa tub next to a sizeable shower, and was furnished with a terrycloth robe and slippers. Finally, there was the bedroom, which had a king-sized bed that rivalled the comfort of his bed at Hogwarts, another television, and a picture window that opened up to a magnificent view.

Harry found the basket of fruit and wine that had been left by Tom, accompanied by a sealed envelope with his assumed name written on it. Harry opened the envelope and pulled out a note written on plain stationery.

Dear Harry, it read.

I am in eager anticipation of your arrival. I have quite the week planned for the two of us.

While our days will be spent together, I'm afraid that my manor, though generally quite nice, lacks accommodations for guests. When it was originally built, there were separate buildings for housing guests, and even the family's children. Only the Lord and Lady of the manor stayed within the main house. I suppose my ultimate ancestor was a rather suspicious man. The outer buildings, however, were allowed to fall into disrepair, and are no longer fit for habitation.

So I hope that you will find this room adequate for your night time accommodations.

You will recall, I believe, my request that you leave everything but your wand within the room. Dumbledore, I am certain, is less than sanguine about you being out of his custody for two weeks, and I would not put it past him to have cast tracking charms on your clothing or personal effects. Fortunately, the nature of wands is such that it is not possible for them to be Tracked magically, nor would a muggle device be able to do so. I would rather not have any unexpected company.

I have provided clothing for you, which you will find in the wardrobe. I'm afraid that I am unable to provide a replacement pair of glasses, as I do not know the correct prescription. They are the item most likely to be Tracked, however, and so they must be left behind.

Harry froze after reading that. What would he be able to do without his glasses? He was completely blind without them. Was Tom crazy? Then he realized he should probably keep reading.

I undertook to research magical eyesight correction on your behalf, and I have found a spell. It is not commonly used because it requires a great deal of power, as well as the ability to visualize the problem and the mechanics of correcting it. One must have a perfect understanding of the anatomy of the human eye to do so. I will perform it for you when you arrive.

One final note: As you may or may not be aware, the ministry is able to track locations where magic is performed, but not the specific witch or wizard performing it. The hotel where you are staying is also currently hosting a worldwide convention for makers of broomsticks and broomstick accessories. Therefore any magic you perform while staying there will go quite unnoticed.

I will expect your arrival at five o'clock this afternoon.

Harry glanced at the clock. Noticing that it was still only four, he decided to go ahead and take another shower. The Knight Bus, after all, didn't seem to be cleaned on any sort of regular basis.

As he was peeling off his clothes to get into the shower, it occurred to him that he could see if Tom had been right about the Tracking charms. He'd just learned how to detect them in the previous week. Pulling out his wand, he pointed it at his glasses and muttered "Ubicarmen Revelio."

His glasses gave off a pale pink light.

Harry was beyond angry. If this was done 'for his own good,' then why not tell him about it? Didn't Dumbledore trust him? He was about to remove the charm, but then he realized two things. First, as angry as he was, he was likely to put too much power into the spell and break the glasses. Second, the charm had to stay in place. It if was removed, the caster (almost certainly Dumbledore) would know, and would most likely come looking for Harry immediately. Harry certainly didn't want that.

Still grumbling, he continued on into the shower. After finishing, he put on one of the hotel robes, enjoying the soft fluffy cloth. He spelled his hair dry, then headed to the wardrobe to find something to wear.

Opening the door, he found wizard robes, as he was expecting. There were ten different sets in a variety of colours, though all in similar styles, made of velvet with silk lining. He also found boxer shorts in black silk, socks, and a pair of dragon-hide boots. He picked out a robe in emerald green, since everyone was always saying it was his best colour. It looked rather big, but Harry quickly discovered that it changed sizes to fit him when he put it on. He finished getting dressed and noticed that he still had fifteen minutes before five. Then he remembered his promise to ring Hermione. He sat down on the bed, picked up the phone, and dialled her number.

"Granger residence," came the familiar voice. Harry smiled at his friends' formality.

"Hey Hermione, it's me," he replied.

"Harry! That was fast."

"Well, you know the Knight Bus. It's not fun, but it does the job."

She laughed. "Well, I'm sure you have other things to be doing just now, so I'll let you go. Thanks for calling."

"No problem. I'll see you back at Hogwarts, yeah?"

"See you then." They both hung up. Five more minutes had passed. Harry wondered if it would be all right to be ten minutes early. He sighed, decided probably not, and flipped on the telly. He found a channel showing a romantic film. Dudley had watched it a lot, not because he liked romance, but because the lead actress was shown completely naked. Harry sat on the bed staring at the screen, glancing over at the clock every ten or twenty seconds. He wasn't really seeing the movie. His mind was completely taken up with his upcoming visit. Finally, at 4:58, he decided it was time to go. He turned the telly back off, checked to be certain that he had his wand, and walked over the table holding the basket. He took off his glasses, set them on the table, and felt around until he felt the woven wood surface of the Portkey underneath his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "§Open sesame,§" and felt the now-familiar wrench through his gut.

Where he landed, he couldn't really say for certain, as he was unable to see anything but a blur of green and brown. He did, however, see the red jet of light coming towards him, almost perfectly clearly. It hit him as he landed, and he fell to the ground, completely motionless. At least the ground seemed to be soft grass.

He felt someone leaning over him, and saw a black blur. "§I do apologize, my little serpent,§" Tom's voice hissed in his ear. "§But this spell requires that your eyes remain absolutely motionless.§" The dark blur became more remote, and Harry heard Tom incant, "Occulum Reparo."

Suddenly, he couldn't see anything but a white fog. His eyes felt strange. It wasn't exactly painful, nor was it comfortable. It felt like tiny parts were being delicately rearranged—and Harry supposed they were. After what seemed like about five minutes, the feeling left his eyes, leaving behind a sense of fatigue. "Finite Incantatum," Tom intoned, and Harry found himself able to move again. He instinctually closed his eyes and held them closed, waiting for the fatigue to be over. When it was, he opened them.

He could hardly believe what he saw.

The world was now in perfect detail, better than he had ever seen with his glasses. Colours were sharper, lines were clearer, small details were easily visible, and the range of his vision had greatly increased. Most importantly, he saw Tom in front of him, smirking arrogantly.

"Better?" Tom asked as he offered Harry a hand up.

"It's amazing," Harry whispered, still awestruck. He took the offered hand and brought himself to his feet. Instead of releasing Harry's hand, Tom brought it to his lips, kissed it, and said, "Welcome to my home."

Harry, thrilled by his newfound eyesight, yanked Tom closer by the hand that was still clasping his and smashed their lips together. Their kisses, which had always been passionate and intense, were brought to a whole new level, now that both were truly physically present. Tom's tongue gently licked at Harry's lips, asking for entrance, and Harry gladly granted it. The two tongues stroked and teased each other, while Tom's arms wrapped around Harry's waist, pulling the smaller man closer, and Harry's arms wound around Tom's neck in response, coming up to grab a fistful of ebon hair. Tom's hands wondered lower, past the waist, and gently squeezed the firm, round posterior, eliciting a moan from Harry.

"§I told you it was a courting gift,§" a pleased hiss interrupted their passionate embrace.

"§Nagini!§" Tom hissed, slightly out of breath. "§Didn't I tell you to stay in the house?§"

The snake hung her head. "§Yes, Master.§"

Tom made tsking noises at the snake. "§Then what, pray tell, are you doing outside?§"

"§I was hungry. There are no rodents inside, and Master said not to eat the birds.§"

Harry, who had been following the conversation, chimed in. "§I'm feeling a bit peckish myself.§"

Tom gave up glaring at his familiar, and instead turned to smile at Harry. "§Then I suppose I ought to see to supper for both of you. Nagini, Tibby has a ferret for you in the kitchen, or a groundhog if you'd prefer.§"

The snake hissed thanks, and gave both Tom and Harry affectionate caresses with her long tongue before slithering off.

Tom picked up the basket that Harry had dropped upon his arrival, and motioned for Harry to follow him. The two began walking through the extensive yard toward the house. "Now, Harry, which would you prefer: groundhog, or ferret?"

Harry managed to keep a completely straight face as he replied, "Groundhog, I think. Ferrets are a tad chewy."

Harry had thought they were going into the house, but instead they came to a clearing in the midst of the stately elm trees that populated the yard. The clearing was covered with a soft carpet of green grass, and over that grass a picnic blanket was laid out.

"I'm afraid Nagini will choose the same, and I only have one groundhog left," Tom paused, putting a finger to his chin as if considering what to do. "Perhaps you might make do with this fondue al fresco?"

And indeed, the picnic blanket was laid out with several dishes, filled with various meats and vegetables. There were two place settings, side by side, and each place setting had two small pots kept warm by magical flames.

Harry sighed. "I suppose it will just have to do." Then both men broke into amused chuckles.

Their dinner conversation was mostly light, as Tom refused to discuss the plans for the week. They shared the bottle of wine and some of the fruit that had been in the basket. When they finished eating, Tom Banished the dishes to the kitchen, and laid down on the now bare picnic blanket. He raised an eyebrow at Harry in invitation. Harry took him up on his offer, and lay down with his head on Tom's stomach. Tom's hand began stroking Harry's hair. They lay in silence for some time, watching the star. Though Tom would never admit it out loud, Harry's mere presence made him feel something--something he'd never felt before.

Eventually, Tom broke the silence. "Have you been studying, my little serpent?"

"I have. And I hope you'll give me a chance to prove it to you this week."

"I shall. And I shall teach you things that cannot be learned from books."

Harry turned so that he was facing Tom. "Thank you," he whispered. "For the teaching, the room, the clothes, the eyesight spell…you were right, by the way."

"Of course I was," Tom replied confidently. "What was I right about?"

"The tracking spell on my glasses."

"I trust you left it in place?"

"Of course," Harry said, slightly indignant. "I try not to let my temper do my thinking for me anymore."

"Revenge is a dish best served cold."

"So I've heard. I look forward to finding out for myself."

Tom chuckled. "In that case, I'm certain that you will enjoy my next little gift to you."

"What is it?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"You will find out tomorrow. For now, it is rather late, and we will both have a long day tomorrow. Here," Tom said, Transfiguring the basket into a silver chain and fastening the chain around Harry's neck. "This will take you to and from your hotel room in the mornings and evenings. The password remains the same. I will expect you tomorrow morning at eight for breakfast."

"Goodnight, then, Tom." Harry pressed one last kiss to Tom's lips before hissing the activation words and disappearing into the night.

The next morning, after Tom and Harry finished breakfast, Tom was taking Harry on a quick tour of the manor. It was obviously an old home, and somewhat small, but it was well-constructed and beautifully decorated, and it had the sense of history to it that some older buildings acquire. After showing Harry the duelling room, which, interestingly enough, was right across the hall from the ball room, Tom inquired, "would you like your present now, Harry?"

"What is it? Will I like it?" Harry asked teasingly.

"Hmm, I do believe so, though I admit there is a catch."

"It seems like there always is with you Slytherins."

"I think you'll find it to be worth the cost this time."

They walked back to the kitchen, where Tom opened up the pantry, moved several bags of flour out of the way, and hissed "§Open up.§" A previously hidden door opened in the back of the pantry, revealing torch-lit stairs.

Realization swept over Harry. "This must have been Salazar's house."

Tom smiled. "Very good, Harry. Come, your present awaits."

They walked down the stairs together, hand in hand, and came to another door at the bottom. This one, Tom used a key to unlock. Walking through that door, Harry found himself in a dimly-lit dungeon. There were perhaps ten cells, arranged in a circular fashion, but only one was occupied. In that cell, Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley were huddled together.

"Harry?" Petunia cried out. "Are you here to save us?"

Harry could not hold back the laughter that overwhelmed him. "Why Auntie dearest, what do you think?" he replied mockingly.

"I knew we shouldn't have taken you in! We should've dumped you at the orphanage, or better yet, drowned you! You and your unnatural freakiness! Now look where you've got us!" Vernon shouted, banging his fists impotently against the iron bars of the cell.

"Yes, you're doing a wonderful job convincing me that you deserve my help," Harry stated calmly. Then he turned away from his family.

"I do like this gift," he said to Tom. "Now, what is the catch?"

"They are to be used as learning tools for what I will teach you today."

"Do you mean the three curses I think you mean?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I do. Do you believe you are ready?"

Instead of answering, Harry pointed his wand at Dudley. "Crucio," he intoned calmly.

A rush of rust-coloured light sped from Harry's wand, hitting his obese cousin right in the centre of his chest. Harry's fantasies of seeing his childhood tormentor writhing in pain came true before his eyes. Dudley hit the floor almost immediately, and his screams echoed throughout the dungeon. Far from the guilt Harry thought he might feel, he instead felt exhilarated. He thought back to all of the times that it had been him suffering, either from Dudley's fists or from the loneliness Dudley had forced on him, and could only feel glad that Dudley was finally getting what he deserved. He watched, almost mesmerized, as his cousin continued to scream, not even hearing his aunt and uncle's demands to stop it, to let their poor Dudders go.

The next thing he knew, he was swept up in Tom's arms, and his mouth was being attacked with fervent kisses, which he gladly responded to. When both of them were panting for breath, Tom finally let go.

"When did you learn to do that, little serpent?"

"I've been practicing in the Chamber, using spiders and other Conjured animals. It felt good, but I never even imagined how much better it would feel with a human, especially that lump of filth."

"Harry!" his aunt's shrill voice penetrated the air. "How could you do this to us? We're you're family!"

"Oh, really?" he replied calmly, almost pleasantly. "I lived with you for nearly ten years, plus four summers, yes? And yet, out of all the framed photos on the walls, and all the albums on the bookshelves, there is not one single picture of me. Nor was I given a room in the house, not until you were afraid you'd be punished. I've never had a birthday party, nor have you ever given me a single Christmas present. In fact, you never bought me a single new thing, and you only gave me the old things used up by Dudley grudgingly. Whenever you went out, you left me with Mrs. Figg, and whenever someone asked if I was your son, you made very certain they knew I was only your nephew. You have never said anything even slightly positive to me, and certainly not that you loved me or that you were proud of me. You let Vernon hit me, you let Dudley hit me, and you gave me just barely enough food to get by. On top of all that, you insisted on being paid to 'take care' of me. Tell me, Petunia, does that sound like family to you?"

While his aunt stood there gaping, and his uncle and cousin continued their threats and protests, Harry returned his attention to Tom. "Would you like to see what else I can do?" he asked.

"It would please me greatly," Tom said, giving Harry's face an affectionate caress.

"Imperio," Harry cast, directing the magic at his aunt. She resisted the spell, and it was a very different feeling from casting it on animals, but Harry didn't find it too difficult to overpower her will.

"Vernon," she began suddenly. "I hate you. I hate that I ended up with such a fat, slovenly, nobody! My perfect sister, with her perfect magic, and her perfect looks, married a perfect man. Then they went and had a perfect child, smart, well-mannered, and good looking. And what do I get? A fat slob who doesn't even make decent money, and his fat slob of a brat. And then, my sister, my little Lily, gets blown up! And I, I get her perfect child. And every day, he reminds me of my baby sister, and how perfect she was, and how she had everything. And he's just like her! Bloody perfect!"

She probably would have continued on, but Vernon's meaty hand slapped her across the mouth, interrupting her tirade. "Shut up, you bitch!" the man yelled. "You're no prize either! You were damn lucky to marry me, especially with that freakish sister of yours. If we hadn't had Dudley by the time I found out about her, I would've dumped your ass in a heartbeat. You're ugly, a cold bitch in the bedroom, and you can't cook. Dudley's the best thing you'll ever do in your life."

Harry thought Dudley ought to have a say, and so he turned the spell on his cousin. "Do you honestly think I care about you, either of you? As far as I'm concerned, you're nothing but servants and cash machines. You're pathetic, both of you."

"What are you telling them to do?" Tom inquired curiously.

"So far, nothing but tell the truth about how they feel about each other. Shall I make it more interesting?"

"As you wish."

All three Dursleys stopped talking. Vernon suddenly began punching Dudley, who futilely struggled to get away, and when that failed, to block the blows. Petunia looked on impassively. "Don't hit him where anybody will see it," was all she said.

When Dudley had been knocked unconscious, Vernon changed his target to Petunia. Harry released his aunt from the curse, leaving her to feel all the pain and all the emotions. "Help!" she screamed. "Help! Help!"

Harry walked right up to the entrance of the cell and looked her straight in the eyes. "I recall screaming for help, once. It never did me any good, either."

When she, too, had blacked out, Harry turned his wand on his uncle. "I have nothing to say to you. Crucio."

After five minutes or so of enjoying the rush that came from using the torture spell, Harry released it. He sent Ennervate spells at his aunt and cousin.

"What's funny about this, Vernon, Petunia, Dudley, is how different things might have been if you had been my family. You probably never would have been in this position, but if you were, I would have done everything in my power to save you. Did you know, by the way, that I have a fortune in gold and silver? If you were my family, I would have shared it all with you gladly. You would never have had to work a day in your lives, any of you. Dudley could have gone to Eton, and then Oxford or Cambridge. You could have been important people, looked up to and admired."

Harry paused, staring each one of the muggles in turn straight in the eyes.

"But you refused me. Now I refuse you. You are not my family."

He turned back to Tom, eyes suddenly filled with uncertainty. "Tom?" he said quietly.

"Yes, Harry?" Tom returned gently.

"I've only done this one once before. And that was on a chicken."

"You don't have to, Harry. They'll keep until you're ready."

Harry considered it for a moment. Then he drew himself up and took a deep breath. Without answering Tom, he turned back to the cell. "Goodbye, Vernon, Petunia, Dudley." Three flashes of green light flew from his wand, striking the man, the woman, and the boy in turn. With three thuds, the bodies hit the floor.

Harry found himself once again in Tom's arms, being kissed gently. "I knew you'd want me to be able to use those spells. So I've been studying and practicing them for months. I had to show you I could do it."

"And so you did, and I am very proud, my little serpent. Come now, let's go back up to the kitchen. Tibby should have lunch prepared by now."

The two ascended the stairs, once more hand-in-hand, and a smile broke out on Harry's face. "That was a wonderful present," he said.

After lunch, the two spent the afternoon in the duelling room, a room equipped with stationary targets, moving targets, and simulated opponents. Tom was greatly surprised to find that Harry actually had a few things to teach him about how to fight alongside a partner. He himself was rather new to the technique, as no one had ever been able to keep up with him before.

"Did you ever hear about that defence club I taught?" Harry asked, when Tom wondered aloud how Harry had acquired such a skill.

"Yes, Severus told me of it, and the circumstances that led to it."

"Well, we did a lot of work on fighting together. They were kids—I mean, they wouldn't stand a chance fighting against an adult Death Eater, not by themselves. They didn't have that kind of power or skill. So I taught them to work together."

"But who taught you?"

"Hermione gave me some books, and there was some stuff in the library. That was enough information for me to kind of work it out for myself, I guess."

And so the afternoon's practice continued, with Tom being forced to—yet again—re-evaluate his erstwhile partner. Practice continued through Monday, with occasional interruptions for Harry to learn new spells.

Tuesday morning found Harry and Tom together in Tom's study, the same one they occupied during Harry's mental 'visits,' though of course this time, both were physically present. They were seated next to each other, and Tom's arm was around Harry.

"Are you ready?" Tom queried.

"You're sure this won't hurt?" Harry replied uncertainly.

"There may be some discomfort when I enter your body," Tom answered, "but if there is any pain, I will withdraw immediately."

Harry was still a bit uncertain, but he nodded. "Okay. I'm ready."

Tom smiled and kissed Harry's cheek. "Don't forget to focus on the sensations. Remember every detail; exactly how your body feels."

Tom stared directly into Harry's eyes, shutting out everything but the young man in front of him. A heartbeat later, Harry was no longer alone in his body. He could feel Tom's presence in his mind.

Rather than the debilitating agony of the last time he was possessed, he felt a powerful sense of contentment. Harry knew Tom was feeling the same. Their emotions and thoughts were completely open to each other.

"I'm going to begin the change now," Tom thought to Harry.

Before Harry could even think anything else, he felt his body begin to shift. He paid careful attention to the feel of his and Tom's combined magic as it moulded his body. His bones and muscles shifted. His organs adjusted. A tail sprouted from between his buttocks. His teeth grew pointed. Fur grew over his entire body. Harry felt as if he were watching the process in slow motion, but he knew that it was actually happening almost instantaneously.

Just like that, he was a panther. Tom, still controlling his body, showed him how to move; first slowly walking, then he walked outside so that he could show Harry how to run. After a few minutes, Tom gave control back to Harry. Harry attempted to take a step, and fell flat on his face. He could feel Tom's amusement through the mild pain they were sharing. He tried again, remembering how it had felt when Tom was doing it. Success! Soon, he was walking smoothly around the yard. Tom's presence urged him to attempt running. That took several tries, but when he finally mastered it, the feeling of freedom overwhelmed him. Tom finally told him to go back inside, which he did, somewhat reluctantly. When they had reached the study again, Tom gave him a moment's warning before beginning the shift in reverse. A second after reverting to human form, Harry found himself once again alone in his head, which left him feeling curiously empty.

"I hope you were paying attention?" Tom's smooth voice asked.

"Of course I was!" Harry replied indignantly. "That was the point, after all."

"Then you are ready to attempt it on your own?"

"Er…I think so." Harry was nervous, understandably so in his mind. What if he got stuck in the middle of it?

"If you should encounter difficulty, I will come to your aid. Relax, my little serpent," Tom chuckled, probably knowing exactly what Harry was thinking.

So Harry gathered his magic, trying to shape it the same way Tom had. It took him quite a bit longer, but he wasn't worried about speed. That would come with time and practice. Just as he was beginning to feel himself shift, he lost his control over the magic, and the process ended abruptly.

"Damn," he spat out.

"Try it again. You were quite close," Tom soothed.

It ended up taking four tries, but Harry eventually managed to transform on his own. When he had done it, he saw a nearly-identical panther standing next to him. The other panther winked, then jerked his head in a clear indication for Harry to follow as he ran outside. Harry did so, wondering what Tom had in mind. As soon as he made it out of the front door, he found out.

Tom, claws carefully sheathed, pounced on him, initiating a full-out wrestling match. Harry scrambled out from underneath and launched a counter-attack. The tussling continued until both panthers were tired, and then Tom and Harry curled up together for a cat-nap, in the same shady clearing where they had shared their first picnic. Deep purrs rumbled from both chests.