It was Sunday, the nineteenth of March as Harry and Tom sat with other the Death Eaters at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry was pondering the day ahead of him vaguely as he listened on and off to what the Death Eaters talked about. He knew that he had the expected cruel amount of homework waiting for him to finish today, though in truth he couldn't bring himself to worry about that for long.

He watched as the hundreds of owls flew through the windows of the Great Hall, bringing packages and letters to many of the students at Hogwarts. A few of the Death Eaters received messages from their families, and Avery was brought what appeared to be a package, yet Harry had no interest in watching him open it. He wondered how much time, if any, he would be able to spend with Tom this afternoon…

"Jonathan, do you wish to borrow the newspaper?" Lestrange asked from across the table, breaking Harry's trail of thought.

Harry looked up at Lestrange, surprised that he himself hadn't asked for the paper earlier. "Sure."

Lestrange handed him the newest edition of the Daily Prophet, followed by a quick thanks from Harry.

"Though I must add that there wasn't very much of any true interest in today's edition for me," Lestrange commented. "Maybe you'll have more luck with it."

When Lestrange joined in another conversation, Harry looked down at the newspaper within his hands. The main article was of no interest to him, for it only spoke of broomstick regulations that were or weren't going to be made into official laws, and the other smaller articles around that were just as unimportant, if not more so. Harry opened the paper, and began flipping through it.

After a few minutes, something caught his eye, and he turned his attention to an article that took up about half a page. A picture was displayed above the writing, featuring a photograph of a tall, dark, and plain building, towering over a landscape that was completely immobile if not for the whirling clouds that gliding in the background. Harry recognised this prison the moment he saw it, and his eyes searched to begin the article with haste.

Nurmengard Voted Most Successful European Prison of the Decade

Though this piece of news is not entirely unexpected, many Witches and Wizards were shocked to hear that Nurmengard Prison has succeeded all other penal institutions across Europe in maintaining and continuously exceeding its record-breaking measure of holding new convicts. The prison itself, built only seven years ago, has become famous for its rapid success, keeping some of Europe's most well-known and lethal criminals. Nurmengard has exceeded even Azkaban Fortress in its success, though many critics claim that this phenomenon will become less prominent once Nurmengard reaches a fuller capacity. Azkaban – holding almost ten times as many prisoners – has still maintained its own general standard, and has been deemed the second most successful…

Harry stopped reading at this point, for he could bear no more uncomfortable anxiety that arrived with this article. From what he had learnt about Nurmengard Prison, it was mostly full of the people that revolted against Grindelwald – whether directly or by mere conversation, it didn't even matter. They were captured and imprisoned if they couldn't be killed silently, and thus the prison held a limitless number of inmates…

It was only when Tom pointed to the photo within the paper that Harry realised he had been reading this all over his shoulder. Tom was bringing Harry's attention to the words that were carved over the entrance to the prison: "For the Greater Good". Harry stared at this, wondering how he hadn't noticed it before. Seemingly incomprehensible text could be seen prior and subsequent to this phrase, so he supposed that these words were repeated in many different languages, for the world to see and understand.

Harry turned to look at Tom, seeing concern behind his almost expressionless countenance. Perhaps Tom was watching the anxiety and fear that poured through Harry at this, for they gazed at one another for a few moments in silence. Harry wished he could talk to Tom, to share his opinions on the matter… He knew he really shouldn't be fearful of the mere mention of this prison, but this simplicity made his lies all the more prominent once again. A voice broke their silent communication.

"What you two reading about?" Avery asked, seeing only their impassive expressions.

"Nothing." Harry replied, looking away from Tom.

Avery didn't seem to care very much anyway. "What you doing later today, Jonathan?"

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason really, 'cept some of us are going down to the headquarters to play some cards and so on." He smirked a little, "It's my birthday."

"Er, Happy Birthday," Harry said vaguely, turning to Tom. "Are you going?"

"Perhaps," Tom replied, "for it again never fails to be amusing."

Harry smiled vaguely and turned back to Avery, but then saw that he was occupied with the arrival of Nancy White. Harry guessed they were together now, for the Slytherin girl had been sitting with Avery a lot over the last few weeks. This didn't concern Harry, besides for the fact that where Nancy White went, her friends always followed without hesitation. Sure enough, when Harry looked a little down the table, he saw the four other Slytherin girls from his year sitting at the end of the group of Death Eaters.

Linda Anthony – the blatant leader of the pack – seemed rather disapproving of Nancy's choice for a boyfriend, yet her resolve to appear continuously annoyed never lasted long. Within minutes of arriving at the table, her eyes would wander to find the one boy of interest, who took no interest in her at all. Tom. Her friends would all follow her gaze, even though some of them were perhaps paired with another Death Eater, and Harry would stare back at them inexpressively, watching as they occasionally glanced up him, but never looked away from Tom for very long.

Harry tried not to become annoyed with these loud and giggling students, and the fact that Tom had never once acknowledged their presence helped quite a bit. He decided to follow Tom again today, thus he averted his eyes to watch some of the Death Eaters. After a few moments, Harry looked back at Tom, seeing he was checking his watch. Tom stood up.

"Where are you going?" Nott asked him from a few seats away.

"I have to visit Slughorn," Tom replied, slightly distracted.

"Something about the Slug Club, I'm guessing?"

"Yes," Tom said, "I'll be back later."

He directed his words mostly towards Harry as Nott nodded and became bored of the conversation, and as Tom was about to leave, he made somewhat of an involuntary movement to brush Harry's shoulder with his hand. This half-gesture seemed to go unnoticed, but Harry looked up at the Death Eaters once Tom left just to be sure, reading the minds of whoever glanced his way.

Lestrange was watching him from across the table. Harry was relieved to see that his mind didn't guess any truth… though he seemed to have noticed something odd, nonetheless. He spoke when Harry made eye contact with him for a moment.

"I can't help but observe how Riddle and yourself have become close," Lestrange began.

A few of the Death Eaters turned when hearing these words, glancing towards Harry. No one had yet dared to ask Harry or Tom directly about this change, and many of the Death Eaters were very keen to finally hear an explanation, Harry knew.

"I don't know what you mean," Harry lied easily.

"Well, I'm sure it is harder for you personally to notice anything odd," Lestrange drawled on, "but to put things into perspective, I have to mention that I've never seen Riddle as close to someone as he is with you. Except for maybe with a teacher…"

"We're not very close," Harry stated.

"Not very close, no, but he seems to talk to you quite a lot."

"I'm just interested in what he knows about the Dark Arts," Harry lied.

"You talk about the Dark Arts?"

"Yeah."

"He tells you more about it than us, then?" Lestrange asked abruptly.

Harry suddenly remembered about Lestrange's ambition to be amongst the best Death Eaters in knowing the Dark Arts. He paused for a moment at this thought, contemplating giving Lestrange another lie to feel less disquieted. Yet Harry knew that breaking this lie now could mean revealing the truth, and that was worse than making a Death Eater jealous. "He doesn't tell me more. We just talk about the Dark Arts sometimes."

Lestrange did indeed look concerned with this. He stared at Harry, thinking, as Harry read his mind, (This must be why he's so good in the Dark Arts. They talk about it, sure, but they're most likely practicing it when I'm not around… They can't practice in all the time they spend away, because they surely have other things to do, but what about those times when they leave our group together?

(Riddle must have bribed Jonathan to stay… then why is he always so comfortable around him? There are no begrudging actions from Tom… He must actually favour this boy for his talent. Jonathan is playing a wise game if he has managed to get Riddle into this happily… But maybe Tom just wants his power that much… He shouldn't be given more attention. It's completely unfair… Why is Jonathan staring at me?)

Harry looked away at this point, wondering how this was going to end. He hoped Lestrange would drop the subject out of fear of Tom, at least. It would be tedious if they had to spend time convincing people of another truth, or else making Lestrange forget his jealousy. It was a problem that would be hard to overcome – if it was that Lestrange would get so annoyed as to make a scene.

The rest of breakfast passed without much excitement, and Harry spent the day finishing homework and reading. At dinner, Harry sat with the Death Eaters again in the Great Hall, being careful not to sit next to Tom. Having read all the minds of the Death Eaters by this time, Tom understood without explanation that Harry and he should be distanced for a little while. Yet when Harry read Lestrange's thoughts, he saw that Lestrange only supposed they had talked about his questions together, meaning they had shared another meeting.

After dinner, Avery led the party of Death Eaters down to the headquarters, bringing with him the new set of gambling equipment that his older brother had given him for his birthday. "I only wonder how he got it past my parents," Avery said with a smirk to a few Death Eaters. "My mom and dad hate my gambling addiction. They say I won't get anywhere in life just betting. My older brother, though, understands what I say about it being plenty possible to make a living off of cards. Plus, I've got enough money to help me if I mess up."

A few of the Death Eaters smiled at this as they headed into the headquarters, and Harry watched as they began to divide into pairs before sitting down. He then sensed someone standing besides him. It was Tom, of course. He looked at Tom for a moment, about to remind him that some of the Death Eaters were being sceptical, but Tom guessed what he was going to say. He smiled.

"Lestrange won't stop until he has a verbal confirmation from me, I believe," Tom said quietly, "so whatever we do will fuel his theories. We may as well be a team and defeat them all twice as effectively."

Harry was about to ask what Tom meant by that last comment, before he remembered something. They could both read minds. He felt a smile form upon his lips as he imagined how the Death Eaters would react to their unbeatable team. Tom gazed at him for a second, before leading him to the table. The Death Eaters were cracking jokes as they discussed what game they'd be playing.

They decided, after much debate, to play twenty-one – a game Harry wasn't surprised to remember was actually an adaptation of a Muggle game, or vice versa. The Death Eaters didn't care to learn this, Harry was sure, and they also didn't seem to notice that the cards they played this game with were rather close the Muggle playing cards, but with a larger variety characters instead of numbers.

Instead of Queens and Kings, the Death Eaters had Witches and Wizards, and Jacks were oddly enough Centaurs. Vampires were ten, Werewolves nine, Merpeople eight, Giants seven, Trolls six, Hags five, Banshees four, Goblins three, House–Elves two and finally Gnomes were aces. They also played with thirty-nine cards (instead of the usual fifty-two), which was two thirds of a Muggle deck, thus instead of having four of each suits, the Death Eaters played with only three; wands, swords and clubs.

All of this had been very confusing to Harry at first, but after months of watching the Death Eaters play, he was sure that he would have no trouble in keeping up with the game. Also, his advantage of knowing Legilimency would aid him greatly in understanding how to win, he was more than sure. He glanced at Tom after they were seated, smiling softly as Avery began asking the others what they were going to bet.

"We'll put down ten galleons to start," Avery said, speaking for himself and Dolohov as he pushed his money into the centre of the table.

"We'll do the same," replied Nott and Lestrange. A few others mimicked.

"We'll put in twenty," said Rosier and another Ravenclaw, "for I'm sure we understand the game more than any of you."

"You Ravenclaws are gunna lose all your money with being so wrapped up in your intelligence," Avery replied, smirking. He turned to Tom. "What do you want to bet?"

"I'll bet fifty galleons," Tom said. Avery seemed to have expected as much, and Harry watched as Tom pushed the galleons onto the centre of the table. Avery turned as Mulciber put in his own money too.

"How did you manage to get the money for this game?" Harry asked Tom quietly.

"Mostly from playing cards with the others, actually," Tom replied, smiling slyly. Avery began to deal out the cards across the table. "I made a bet with nonexistent galleons initially and managed to continuously win more and more games since that time. It was far easier than I could expect."

Tom picked up the cards that had been dealt for Harry and himself. They had a Werewolf, worth nine, and a Gnome, worth one or eleven. Tom smiled at this, before looking up at the Death Eaters around the table. Harry followed his gaze, keen to read whichever minds he could.

(Awh, fuck,) though Mulciber, (We ain't gunna win nothing with this. A Banshee and a Goblin…)

(Well, it is certainly possible to win with an eighteen. But I'm guessing our chances are somewhat thin,) mused Lestrange. (To the main problem, do we choose another card, or keep what we have?) Lestrange turned to Nott, and they talked quietly about their hand.

(It must be birthday luck,) Avery thought a few seats away from this pair. (A Gnome and a Mermaid! That makes nineteen, or nine. No one here will have something that close… but maybe I should take another card to get closer to twenty-one? I mean, it's probably a chance worth taking, and with this luck, I could win…)

(I still don't know if he's right with not wanting another card,) Nott reflected, (but I suppose we'll just see in a minute. I don't see why he should be the one to choose…)

(Now, let's see,) thought Rosier, (I have a seventeen with no fours used, so blatantly the chances of me being dealt a four now is still three to thirty-nine… but I also have to take fives and threes into consideration, making that nine to thirty–nine. It is obvious that I will never win with this hand alone, though the chance of shooting past twenty–one is rather high…)

As more cards were dealt out, Rosier got a nineteen, Avery and Dolohov picked up a troll, making their hand of nineteen turn into a twenty-six, or else a sixteen (much to their disappointment), and Nott and Lestrange – amongst the only ones who kept their original hand – had the same eighteen, which turned out to be one of the best numbers. It was no surprise, as Harry continued with his Legilimens, to see that no one else around the table had anything nearer to twenty–one than Harry and Tom's twenty.

The Death Eaters were not annoyed when Harry and Tom won, merely hopeful that the next round would give them better hands. Yet no matter what hands they received, it seemed that Harry and Tom always knew the exact time to withdraw, keep what they had, pick up more cards and continue placing in more bets. Some of the Death Eaters pondered the possibility of them cheating, Harry saw, yet almost all of them knew – from being on the same team as Tom – that these constant winning streaks had no visible tricks involved.

They all assumed that Tom was merely a mastermind with counting cards, evaluating chance, and reading poker faces, and they supposed that Harry was winning only because of Tom, so they were unconcerned. Rosier seemed convinced that he would be able to defeat Tom at least once this evening, but such determination came with a lot of eye contact with the two winning Slytherins, thus allowing them to read his mind without struggle. Harry found this all quite amusing, as the games carried on.

"What are the chances of us getting an eight?" Harry hissed to Tom, as Tom watched for what cards the Death Eaters all held. They had fallen into the habit of using Parseltongue together, for it was easily masked by the murmurs of the other Death Eaters around the room.

"There's only one eight being used by the others, and only nine cards left in the deck, thus a two in nine chance of winning. To make matters more fortunate, there are also two sevens and a nine that we have a chance of picking up."

"So only four cards can make us lose?" Harry asked.

"Indeed," Tom replied.

"That sounds like it's a chance worth its reward," Harry hissed; perhaps dangerously close to the other Slytherin.

Tom smiled softly, moving his leg to brush against Harry's own under the table. "I only ever take chances that have desirable repayments…"

Harry had to refrain from smirking too much at this as the game moved on. They ended up getting an eight, as they hoped, and they thus won the round easily. They also won the round after this, and the next one, and the next one, and didn't seem to have a chance of losing any time soon. It was after twelve wins in a row that Avery asked everyone if they wanted to play a new game – one that didn't involve teams.

The Death Eaters agreed to this offer more than willingly, and Harry smiled. He wanted to see whether he could defeat Tom himself. He would be the only unreadable person to Tom, while Tom was the only unreadable person to him. It was almost like playing a fair game, except both Harry and Tom could easily count the cards played around them. Their only problem would be the deck, and each other.

They decided to play Poker amongst a seemingly endless list of Wizarding games that Harry had only vaguely heard about before. They played with around seven different types of decks, many of which turned out to be far more complex than usual, whilst still holding more interesting games.

The Death Eaters – after seeing that splitting Harry and Tom's team into two made twice as many problems – now supposed that Harry had either learnt some cheats from Riddle, or was using his own knowledge to manage this continuous battle with Tom. Most of them supposed Tom had taught him something, though. As they became more restless and bored with losing, the Death Eaters began weary conversations.

"Why do you suppose the Gnomes are worth one and eleven?" Mulciber asked as he rested with one hand supporting his head, his elbow upon the table. "They're just useless pests. Why are they worth more than any other card sometimes?"

"Gnomes could bring down entire civilizations, if it was that they had the intelligence to," Rosier said. "They breed quickly, and spread havoc and diseases, so they could – theoretically – take over the world."

Mulciber gave a gruff sneer, "That seems stupid."

"More interesting, to me," Rosier replied distractedly, moving around some of the cards in his hands.

It was only around eleven O'clock when Tom said to the room at large, "Well, I do believe I've now spent more than enough time defeating you all, so I'll be off. I have a rather tedious amount of homework to finish."

The Death Eater's murmurs of false disappointment at these words were ruined by the fact that at least half of them were suddenly beaming. Harry glanced up at Tom, surprised with this sudden decision, until he slowly began to understand why Tom was doing this. They gazed at each other impassively for a minute as the Death Eaters struggled with their smiles, then Tom turned away smoothly, and left room.

"So, it's just you and us then," said Avery to Harry from across the table. "Not to be rude, but this is going to be a lot more interesting without a genius like Tom around."

Harry faked a slight smile at this, but throughout the entire game after this he was distracted with thinking about Tom, and he nearly lost the match. After two more games of winning, one game of coming second and a last game of outright losing, Harry told the others that he was merely too tired to continue playing.

"Well, at least you had the chance to defeat Tom a few times today," Avery replied in a ruse to explain his grin.

"I suppose so," Harry replied. He was about to turn away, before he remembered something. "Erm, how long are you going to stay up playing?"

"I dunno," Avery replied, as he began to deal cards out to the others. "An hour or two, at the least."

"Right," Harry replied. "Well, good luck with the rest of the game."

Avery gave a quick word of thanks, and Harry made his way out of the headquarters, and onto the corridor that lay beyond it. He began walking towards the Slytherin Common Room, his footsteps echoing through the previous silence, and his mind pondering what Tom would be doing at this time. When he found the right corridor, he gave the password to enter the Common Room, which was deserted. He decided to head for the dormitories.

Harry found Tom sitting on his bed when he entered the dormitory. He was holding a cigarette in his hand lightly, and he smiled softly only when he saw that it was Harry who walked in the room. He examined Harry for a moment, slowly bringing the cigarette to his lips and breathing in the fresh smoke as he did so. Harry walked towards him now, feeling his heart rate escalate as he gazed at Tom.

"The others really know how to celebrate," Harry said as he reached the end of Tom's bed.

He watched as Tom put his cigarette out in an ashtray next to his bed. With a wave of his wand, it disappeared, leaving nothing but a few wisps of smoke behind. "It becomes somewhat tedious after a few years," Tom replied, "but they understand by now that I myself will always retreat early."

"You don't think they'll care about me being gone too?" Harry asked, leaning against one of the posts of Tom's bed.

"Not from what I've seen in their heads. But in any case," Tom lifted himself up from where he lay, walking towards Harry, "they don't need to know what it is that you – or we – do when they're not around."

Harry gazed at Tom as he walked ever closer. "Lestrange already thinks we do something secretive together," Harry said, his mind dwelling upon other thoughts more at this.

"Yes," Tom agreed softly, standing only inches away from Harry now. He raised his hand to caress Harry jaw. "He thinks I must be teaching you things in private. In truth, a worthy guess…"

Tom's words were a hiss before he leant forwards to kiss Harry, smiling, and ending their conversation. Harry found himself replying to Tom passionately, fuelled with the knowledge that they had time to be together tonight, for longer than ever before. Tom's hands were running along Harry's waist, urging him closer as Harry ran his fingers through Tom's hair. Harry could taste the fresh cigarette upon Tom as the kiss deepened, which only added to his uncontrollable craving. He could feel both of their excitement build even before Tom forced him backward to rest against one of the posts of his bed.

Tom broke away from their embrace at this, moving his hands to find Harry's shoulders, which he held firmly as they gazed in desire at each other. Harry examined Tom's astonishingly handsome face and dark grey eyes for a moment, before moving forwards to kiss him again. Before he could deepen the kiss, however, Tom began moving his lips to brush against Harry's chin, descending even more soon after.

Harry was becoming lost in the entrancement of Tom's touch as he kissed his neck, planting a thousand kisses upon his skin. He stretched his neck upwards in the waves of longing that crashed over him while Tom's hands found his chest. Harry's breath was becoming uneven as Tom made his way towards his ear. He gasped in desire as he felt Tom sucking on his earlobe again, and a strong shiver ran up his spine.

Tom pressed himself closer to Harry at the sound of his voice, and his mouth soon found Harry's neck again. He bit Harry in lust, causing Harry to let out a groan that he couldn't have suppressed even if he wanted to. He felt Tom's hands claw against his chest before moving upwards to find his tie. Tom began pulling Harry's tie away as his own breath became uneven. He dropped the tie to the floor once it was free, and pushed Harry backwards onto the bed.

They separated slightly when resting upon the bedcovers, Harry lying on his back and Tom kneeling over him on his hands and knees. The sight of Tom leaning over him, with his hair rough and his desire evident was one that Harry couldn't help but enjoy. He was disoriented as he gazed up at Tom, wondering how the night would end… He sat up to kiss Tom again, pushing himself onto the bed more as Tom followed.

When Harry's head reached Tom's pillow, he rested upon his elbows. Tom kissed him more passionately than ever, his hands searching for Harry's shirt. He began undoing each of Harry's buttons from his neck downwards, and Harry moved to lie completely on his back. He began pulling at Tom's tie, only managing to get it away as Tom finished unbuttoning his shirt.

Tom looked down at Harry, examining his thin frame with eager eyes. He then kissed Harry's lips again, and his jaw, and his neck, moving ever lower from this point to kiss his collarbone, flickering his tongue across Harry's skin. Tom moved his hands to touch Harry's chest, his palms pressing against him roughly as Harry let out a groan of aspiration. Tom withdrew his hands, and began moving his lips lower still.

Tom was kissing his chest again and again, and Harry suddenly began to whisper words of Parseltongue to encourage him further. Harry felt his breath become more uneven than ever. Tom paused for a moment, teasing Harry with slow kisses before he licked his chest. Harry hissed in desire again, and Tom continued, kissed him over and over again.

Tom's hands searched for Harry's shirt as he suddenly sat up, leaning over Harry to kiss his lips once more. Tom pulled Harry's shirt off completely, and sat up fully to begin unbuttoning his own, as Harry watched. They gazed at each other for a moment when both shirtless, each taking in the sight of the other. Tom then began to trace designs upon Harry's chest from where he sat, pressing his fingertips and palms against him, until he saw Harry close his eyes.

Tom began moving his hand lower as he leant in to kiss Harry. He moved his lips to bite Harry's neck as his hand found Harry's waistband. Harry's breath came in shudders as Tom began unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers slowly, teasing him softly. But Tom himself was also struggling to keep his composure as he listened to the desire in Harry's voice. He pulled Harry's trousers completely off, and kissed his ear again.

Harry said Tom's name softly as he waited to see what he would do next. He felt Tom's hand slide across his upper body again, before moving lower. Tom's long, thin fingers found the top of Harry's underwear, and began to slide inside. Tom sucked Harry's earlobe as he began to move his hand, causing Harry to cry out louder than ever, thrusting his hips as he completely lost his sense of reality…