Disclaimer: I does not own. I does not want to. Would be shite if I owned. XD

//This is Parseltongue.//

Paraselenic

Monitory // communicating a warning

"What are we going to do with her, then?" Potter interrupted his observations, obviously having no appreciation for the rarity of the subject. Tom pursed his lips in annoyance and glanced over at his partner. The boy had his arms crossed defensively and one of his fingers was tapping reflexively against his arm, and though his voice was steady, he was obviously forcing it. "I mean, even if I wished her dead, having her disappear would only create problems for me in Hogwarts. But as she is, she's a danger to my mission. I can't see a way out of this."

Tom snorted while keeping his eyes on the brat's face, whose gaze was still trained on the unconscious Mudblood. Potter was still far too sentimental, despite all the growing up he had done. He still had a Gryffindor moral streak half a mile wide and held attachments that would end up doing him more harm than good in the long run.

Not that Tom cared or anything, of course.

"We need to revive her and see the state of her mind before we can make any decisions. I have a few ideas that will spare your Mudbloods life."

Potter's eyes turned towards him, and Tom would deny the way his breathing caught at the effusive gratitude in them until the end of his days. He quickly looked away and shifted his weight uncomfortably, hating his own reaction. So what if the brat wore his heart on his sleeve? It shouldn't -- didn't -- effect him whatsoever.

Those eyes finally looked away -- Tom could practically feel the moment they left -- and were once again trained on the ball of robes and masses of hair. Tom raised an eyebrow at the boy. "What is your problem?"

Potter's eyes shifted from the Mudblood the ground. One hand managed to uncurl enough to rake fingers through his over-long hair and Potter let out a long exhalation of air from his nose before turning to face him. "I did this. I intend to find a way to fix it."

"Merlin and Circe," Tom said with disbelief, "you have got to be the most maudlin shit I've ever encountered. Is it your blasted Gryffindor hero complex, or are you just inherently this much of a mug?"

Potter growled but didn't look away. "Perhaps you don't understand, Tom, but she is my friend. And by Obliviating her I caused this damage. I understand that we are on different sides in this war now, and I understand that our friendship might not be and may never be called a friendship again… but she was right there beside me through every angst-ridden moment in my younger years. She stayed by me no matter how complicated my life was. When I decided my place in this war, I knew that despite the fact that we would never be that close again, I would pay back my friends for all they'd done for me somehow. And how did I do it?" Harry snorted depreciatively and finally looked away. "I fucking ruined her."

Tom quirked an eyebrow though Potter was resolutely not looking at him. "Exactly how many times did you Obliviate her? You had to of known the consequences of so many missing memories."

Bright eyes turned once more towards him with a furrowed brow. "What? I only did it once a couple of weeks ago. What are you on about?"

Tom couldn't help the mocking chuckle that escaped his lips. "Such a Gryffindor. From what I've seen, she's been Obliviated no less than a dozen times in the last three years or so."

Immediately Potter spun around and pulled out his wand, pointing it at the girl and muttering the counter-curse to whatever spell he had placed her under. Tom wondered what the boy hoped to achieve; did he think he would be able to find out who had done the memory charms on her by asking? And if it was who Tom thought it was, it wouldn't be as simple as breaking the charm, as a powerful wizard could easily completely delete the memories rather than locking them away. Besides, Tom knew that Potter was too attached to allow the charms to be broken even if they were still there.

Brown eyes fluttered open before squeezing shut immediately with a groan of pain. Had Tom been a more expressive man, he might have tapped his foot in frustration, but instead just raised an eyebrow and walked forward to be standing above her. He would at least check to see what level the Obliviates were. "Well, girl, come on. I haven't got all night."

He saw the barest flash of a glare from Potter before he turned back to the awakening witch, face still strangely blank. When the girl -- Granger was her name, wasn't it? -- finally opened her eyes and focused, she began fumbling for her wand. Tom sneered down. "Nice try."

"Where am I?" she croaked, eyes flashing between him and Potter, "What do you want from me?"

Potter was still staring blankly, though now with a dose of confusion. "You don't remember?"

Tom cut in as the girl opened her mouth to speak. His voice was dispassionate; hell if he would show his interest to the Mudblood. "That would be because of the memory miscorrelation. I thought this might happen… she has effectively separated herself into two beings in order to function. All of the damage is foisted onto the other half to allow this one to work properly. However, you have seen what happens when she reaches the breaking point."

"Can that be fixed?"

Tom looked toward Potter and shook his head, though the younger man couldn't see him. "The potion I told you about will be able to soothe the damage to the hippocampus and bridge the memory gaps, which will allow her to retain knowledge learned between the two halves, but I know of no way to mend such a large amount of magically induced damage. There is no way the amygdala activity can be regulated, so there is no way to stop the rather explosive temper she has."

Granger was as white as a sheet now, brown eyes rounded. "Wh-What happened to me? I'm… brain damaged… No, no, no… you're lying. Both of you. Whoever you are. You can't be right…"

Tom wanted to curse the girl for her annoying hysterics. "Denial will get you nowhere, girl, so listen up. You have been placed under many heavy memory charms in the last two to three years, and I need to go into your mind to study them. After that, I will give you two potions that will allow you to function in a normal capacity. If you do not agree, you will die."

He knew Potter wouldn't contradict him, but he saw the way the brat's fists clenched. The brown eyes of the Granger girl were fixed on Tom's face, and he locked eyes with her with a smirk. He saw the moment her brain put together her circumstances with his threats and the vibrant shade of his eyes. She screamed, of course, and Tom's smirk widened enough to flash a perfect row of teeth before delving into her mind unannounced.

It took less than a minute for him to take in her mind, and he came out and shot a Petrificus Totalus to cease her frenzied screams. He turned to Potter who was watching him with a calculated blankness. It didn't suit him, Tom thought, though he instantly banished the thought. "I am quite sure that the damage to the prefrontal cortex was something she has had for quite some time, possibly even from early childhood, though the rest of the damage seems to be caused by the frequent memory charms. You said you only did one?"

Potter nodded. "Yes, just a few weeks ago… she had been suspicious of me and getting too close to the truth."

"None of the damage is that recent. The only damage your Obliviate would have done was to exacerbate the existing ones; it likely would have happened without any help from you within a year or so, anyway. She was straddling the breaking point for quite some time. And the Obliviates were all done by a wizard powerful enough to completely remove the memories. I am sure you know what that means."

The girl had stopped her silent and still attempts to break the Body Bind by now and was watching them with confused eyes, but Tom ignored her. Potter nodded and gave him a half-smile. "Thank you, Tom. Now, you said two potions?"

"Yes. The one to smooth out the memory that I told you about, and a second."

"And the second is…"

Tom waved a hand negligibly. "I had to see the state of her mind to see if she would be susceptible to the potion, and she will be. It is something generally thought of as a liquid version of the Imperius, though it really is not. It does not allow one to control a person, but it does allow a person to influence the mindset of the drinker. You will be the one to administer it to her, and if she begins to become overwhelmed again, all you need to do is manipulate her into calmness again. It should prevent outbursts such as the one from earlier this evening."

Potter, surprisingly, nodded his assent. "It will not affect her otherwise?"

"It shouldn't. You will have control of when you feel it necessary, knowing your stupid honor code that won't be often. However, all of this is contingent on whether you can convince her to keep your secrets, you know. I won't hesitate to kill her and leave her corpse on the edge of the Forbidden Forest otherwise."

Potter's eyes turned towards the Granger girl and Tom took that moment to leave the room; he needed to go to his potions lab and hope he had the ingredients to make the two potions. Usually he would call Severus for something like this, but he didn't want to raise Dumbledore's suspicions by pulling the man away twice in one night. Besides, it wasn't as if he was totally useless at Potions; he had been a prodigy at almost everything. He cast a Tempus as he walked towards his laboratory, seeing that it was already two in the morning. Tom raked a hand down his face. Why was he losing an entire night of sleep for Potter and his Mudblood? They had about three hours before they would surely be missed, and Tom was actually willing to put aside rest to make sure they arrived safely. Yes, Potter's mission at Hogwarts was too important to compromise, but that didn't tell him why he wasn't just calling in a Death Eater to go to Knockturn and find pre-made, though likely inferior, versions of the potions so he could send the brat and the Granger girl away.

Tom gritted his teeth and resolutely ignored the little voice in his head telling him exactly why.

Harry stared into familiar brown eyes before casting a Finite to release her from her invisible bonds. She had been listening to the conversation and merely sat up with narrowed eyes, staring at his face intently instead of cowering away as many would have. Harry thanked Merlin for the girl's logical brain.

"Who are you?" It was a question, but Harry could tell by the look in her eyes that she already knew. Though his hair was to his waist and he was aged ten years, his facial shape remained the same, his eyes only a brighter shade of their distinctive green. Harry was under no illusions that either her or Ron could look at him in this form and not know who he was.

Harry sighed and gave her a weak smile before responding. "I'm going to tell you a story, Hermione, and I'd like it very much if you listened before judging."

She nodded slowly, eyes still mistrustful but a steely determination shining in them. "Don't leave anything out, Harry."

His smile turned wry and he began. He told from the end of his fifth year, through his trip back to the Dursley's, to meeting Valerian. He told her of the Immortal realm, of the training he received, of the people he met, of the relationships he formed. He stayed away from any romantic connotations, as they were unnecessary, but told her his life for the last ten years, of his revelations. He told her the dangers Dumbledore's ideals caused, of his agreement with Voldemort and even of his forgiveness of the man.

"There is death in war," he'd said simply. "And just because the deaths of my parents are personal to me, does that give me the right to loathe him for them when I have stood by his side and killed others?"

He went on to his alliance with Voldemort and his return to Hogwarts, even telling her the pain it had caused him to realize how much they had grown apart. Of his knowledge that they could never understand, that he would lose them.

"I would never expect you to side with me, Hermione," Harry said softly, looking at his hands now. "I only ask that you let me choose my own path. I would never let any harm come to you or Ron. Please, Hermione, don't stand in my way. Tom is not joking when he says he will kill you. And I know I would not be able to stop him without signing my own death warrant. Please don't make me choose between you."

She was silent as she prepared to answer, and Harry's attention was soon called to Tom as he swept into the room, hair slightly mussed. Harry held back a smile as he thrust forward two potion's vials. Tom seemed content to ignore Hermione entirely and settled crimson eyes on Harry. "Here."

"Already?" Harry said as he stood and stretched his arms, leaving Hermione to think as he and Tom walked over to his desk and sat in their usual places.

Tom swept his remarkably long fingers through his hair unconsciously, giving Harry an idea of why his usually perfectly ordered chin-length hair was currently in slightly fluffy, disheveled waves. "I used a time-turner once I'd finished at five in the morning," Tom scowled. "It took longer than I thought it would."

Harry blinked in surprise to learn that the Dark Lord had actually done it all himself, and had to dip his head to hide the fond smile that illustrated the warm feeling in his chest. Controlling his expression as best he could, he just met Tom's eyes, knowing a thank you would not be appreciated. "Thanks, Tom. You should go on to bed. I do know how you like your sleep."

"Rodolphus returned from the little job you set him on," Tom said with a sneer. "He was being an idiot, twitchy and awkward. You've ruined my followers."

Harry cracked a grin and winked at him. "I think we might need to distribute self-help manuals to your minions… like, 'So You've Caught the Dark Lord Snogging…' or some such."

Tom scoffed and glared as well as he could through drooping eyes. "I think not. But you do realize the position you've put me in now? They are going to see me as weak; I will have to make it very clear that I am not."

"I think they realize that entirely, dear Tom. Besides, Lucius has known for weeks and hasn't acted any differently."

"What do you mean that Lucius has known for weeks?" he hissed, eyes narrowed in a dangerous look. "I thought you had the capacity to be discreet, you little…"

"Shut up, Tom. In case you've forgotten, I was staying with them over Christmas, and staying out all night an coming back with hickeys was a bit of a giveaway, don't you think?"

Tom looked cowed for all of a moment before blanking out his face and shrugging. "Whatever."

"Anyway," Harry said while trying not to smirk victoriously. He really enjoyed Tom when he was tired; though he got more snippy than usual, he was also far looser with his tongue and slower with his wit. This all added together for immense entertainment on Harry's part. "They see you no differently."

A smirk. "That's what you think, Potter. You do realize the offers I am going to be receiving from Bellatrix once more? I had her convinced my other form was… unable to perform."

"Ah…" Harry tried not to think about it, because that would lead to him hunting down and killing Bellatrix. Tom wouldn't like that. "Well, Cruciate her a few times and all will be well, hmm?"

Harry nearly giggled as Tom opened his mouth to retort and yawned instead, a hand flying to cover his mouth. Again, Harry was forced to look away as a smile crossed his face without his permission. "Go to bed, Tom. I'll come back as soon as I'm sure there are no suspicions."

"Are you going to get your clothing out of my room?"

Harry paused and remembered his borrowing of Tom's clothing, looking down sadly at the comfortable trousers. "Must I?"

Tom was already walking towards the door. "Yes, Potter."

Harry cast a look at the silent Hermione, who was watching their exchange with raised eyebrows. Harry gave her a smirk and waved a hand. "Don't get any ideas, Hermione. I'll be back in just a moment."

She nodded slowly in return. "Alright, Harry. We have a lot to talk about still."

Harry sighed, knowing it was the truth but disliking it nonetheless. He hadn't had to talk to so much in months or longer.

As he followed Tom up the stairs, in order to keep his mind from backsliding to earlier that evening when they had been interrupted, Harry suddenly had an epiphany. "Hey, Tom? Why can't I use your time-turner? It would solve a lot of issues if Hermione and I could go back to earlier this evening instead."

Tom shook his head as he pushed open his bedroom door, failing to hide another yawn. "It's keyed to my blood, only I can use it."

Harry raised an eyebrow and pulled off the white button-down shirt and held his arm into Tom's line of vision, showing the jagged scar that remained there. "I'd say blood shouldn't be a problem, Tom."

"Hmm," Harry looked at the man and saw him crawling over his bedclothes and only halfway paying attention. "Fancy that. Do what you want, Potter."

Harry changed back into the ill-fitting clothing and snorted in disgust before turning to ask Tom just where the time-turner was… only to see crimson eyes already closed and breathing evened. Harry smiled widely as he took in Tom, one leg under the blanket and head not quite on the pillow. Peeking from the neck of his shirt was the time-turner, Harry noticed, and he crept over to pull it out.

As he placed the golden device around his neck he couldn't resist the urge to push dark strands behind Tom's ear. He smiled down at the man who just slept on, totally at odds with his own reputation as he slept soundly. Harry untwisted the blankets from Tom's legs and ignored the little voice in his head chiming that he was just as much of a schmaltzy git as Tom thought he was.

As he bent down to adjust Tom's pillow and pressed a kiss to the corner of the man's mouth, the gravity of how far gone he really was set in, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He looked down at him through lowered lashes and whispered a goodnight to the sleeping Dark Lord before sweeping up his school robes.

He found Hermione just where he'd left her, and a perfunctory glance around the room told him that she'd behaved herself and kept herself from snooping while left unattended. He sat down in front of her and crossed his legs, sighing tiredly. "Do I have your word, Hermione? I don't want to lose you this way, but I need to know now."

The sudden slap caught him off guard and stung, and Harry turned pained eyes on his childhood friend. She was glaring through a film of tears in her eyes, fists clenched at her side and trembling. "Harry James Potter… how dare you even need to ask? How dare you think I would ever turn you away? Do you have so little faith in me?" A sob broke from her throat and she lunged forward against him, shoulders shaking.

Immediately, Harry had flashbacks to Cho in his fifth year, and he felt as awkward now as he had then. He patted her back slowly as she cried into his chest, mumbling incoherently about his lack of confidence in her and what a stupid typical male he was. He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt and grimaced.

"There… there, Hermione? Come on, it's not so bad, is it?"

"You are a buffoon, Harry. And I can't believe you… but… of course I will keep your secrets. I don't understand everything, but how could you expect me to betray you? Do you realize how much that hurts?"

Harry looked away, uncomfortable with the pledge of fealty. He fidgeted even as she pulled away and wiped her face with the backs of her hands. "This is a big change, Hermione… are you sure you can handle it? You don't even know the things you have already done…"

"You mean my parents?" Hermione said softly, another sniffle leaving her. "I know, Harry. I have known. I didn't know why or how… but the last thing I remembered was wanting to hurt them. They were threatening to have me locked away to keep me from Hogwarts. When I woke up and Professor McGonagall told me they were dead… I think I knew right then that something was wrong with me."

Harry fingered the potions vials in his pocket before pulling them out and holding them out. "You heard Tom give their uses, didn't you?"

"I trust you, Harry. I may not agree with you, I might not like to see you so comfortable with V-Voldemort, but I trust in your judgment." She took the vials and held him up with a wry smile. "If I die, you have to take care of Crookshanks for me."

"For one thing, that is a horrible thing to say and in poor taste, for another… I hate cats. Now if you want to leave me your book collection…"

Falling…

Falling…

The darkness swirled around him nearly tangibly, caressing his skin like a lover. He had long since given up trying to see anything in the consuming dark, even his own hand, though he could certainly feel that he had a body. He had been falling… no, floating… no, certainly falling for years now, the blackness becoming all he knew. He was content to let the blackness swallow him, encase him, become him.

"Harry…"

Who was Harry? It was familiar… oh, yes, that was him, wasn't it? He was nearly sure it was, but the knowledge was fleeting and slipped through invisible fingers.

"Harry… can you see me?"

Harry's -- he was Harry -- head turned, still seeing nothing but the all-consuming darkness that surrounded him. The concept of direction was quickly floating away with his other knowledge, replaced by a space in which up was down and left was right. Perhaps he would spend eternity there, content to let the darkness hold him fast. Unseeing eyes slipped shut in content, letting the boundless black engulf his being.

"You cannot do that, Angel."

Why not? He didn't vocalize this question, as he wasn't entirely sure he could, and just blinked his sightless eyes languidly.

It was at least another year of falling before time caught up with him. Air left his lungs as the darkness became stifling, moisture being ripped from his skin in endless beads of sweat. Tears ran rivulets down his face and Harry wished more than anything that he had a voice to scream… and then he realized the had been screaming all the while, throat raw and tearing even as he became unable to breathe.

His body felt as if it was being torn in two, with his every shred of life being torn away. And then he realized that it was being ripped away, that he was dying, that soon there would be nothing left to salvage of his being is he didn't

"The time is coming, Angel. You can hide no more from your destiny. You cannot postpone the inevitable any longer, Angel."

The voice continued speaking soothingly, and somehow over the sound of his own screams he could hear it like an intimate whisper in his ear, clear as if the voice was speaking in his mind. And maybe it was, he wasn't sure, he couldn't be sure of anything anymore beyond the pain.

"Borrowed time, Angel. It is up now and the choice must be made. Will you lose yourself as so many have? Even you, child of Mawu, have not the ability to stave off the course of destiny. You must choose. Choose pain or release, choose death or something far worse. This is only a sample, Angel."

And the pain intensified to that of a hundred Cruciatuses, and Harry knew no more.

Revised: 3/20/09