"Why won't they just leave us alone already?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"I've explained this to you before," Tom said calmly. "Lestrange will only stop being this determined in disrupting our supposed 'private lessons in the Dark Arts' when he believes he has ended them for good."

"But they don't even exist!" Harry said. "How are we supposed to make him believe the lessons have stopped if we aren't even having them anyway?"

"If we stop vanishing together, he'll see that we have no time to practise the Dark Arts. Yet being away from them – as we are now – only makes him more suspicious."

"Yet here you are."

"I want to be here," Tom said, smiling slightly. "Which is, I believe, part of the endless circle."

"Why can't we just tell him we're not having private lessons?"

"Because he would first of all wonder how we found about this thought, and second of all be curious as to what we do when we're away, if we're not practicing Dark Magic."

"He sees you always know everything anyway, even if he doesn't understand that we can read minds. I don't see what the danger in telling him is."

"No matter what he supposes, it's unwise to waste the remaining chances we have left before they link our knowledge to the skill of Legilimency."

"Why don't we offer to give him extra lessons then," Harry suggested, "shutting him up?"

"The problem with my friends is that when you give one of them something, the others must have it too. It would waste just as much time, if not more, to give them all more Dark Magic to practice."

"Then what are we going to do?" Harry asked.

"We'll wait," Tom replied.

"Until what?"

Tom smiled, but found no quick answer.

"Why do you keep doing that?" asked Harry.

"Doing what?"

"Why do you smile whenever either of us talks about how long we have to wait?"

"No reason," Tom replied. Harry could tell he was trying not to smile, and was succeeding almost perfectly.

In truth, Harry had only just realized that Tom was indeed smiling each time waiting was mentioned in conversation between them, and it was quite suspicious. He supposed, on reflection, that Tom must have been withholding information.

"You know something, don't you?" Harry inquired.

"Potentially," Tom replied, smirking.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I've been waiting for you to guess for days."

"Is there a holiday coming up?"

"Yes," Tom replied, smiling more.

"What for?" Harry asked, his tone suddenly eager.

"Easter."

Of course; Easter. How had Harry forgotten about that holiday? He knew it moved around every year, though he really shouldn't have failed to recall it entirely. He soon found that his lack of remembrance didn't truly bother him now. He smiled, before asking, "When does the holiday start?"

"On the sixth," Tom replied, grinning more as he reached out his hand to hold Harry's own. "Easter itself is on the ninth. It's a two week holiday."

Harry realised this meant the holiday was only a week away, and for once since the beginning of the last two weeks he felt relieved of his impatience. They were standing in a deserted part of the castle, far away from where anyone would simply find them, so Harry felt no anxiety as he grinned, and leant in to kiss Tom, ending their conversation.

This one thought helped Harry through the third week of waiting since Avery's Birthday, though he was still rather impatient for the holiday to arrive. He was satisfied to hear that none of the Death Eaters were staying at Hogwarts for Easter, even when Lestrange took a torturously long time to decide upon such a choice, and he was becoming increasingly more cheerful as the days wore on.

Harry hadn't slept much when the day of the Death Eaters leaving dawned, yet he was not at all tired. After a long breakfast, Harry found himself in the Slytherin Common Room, wishing the Death Eaters goodbye vaguely as his heart beat with secret elation. When the room began to clear, Harry made his way slowly towards Tom, who was talking to a few of the Death Eaters. Harry listened to their conversation as he waited for them to leave.

"Well, I guess we won't be seeing you until around two weeks," said Nott, beginning his goodbye.

"Indeed," Tom replied, "and in that time it would be wise of you not to forget searching for the books I requested."

"That won't be a problem," Nott said, blatantly satisfied at the thought of how easy it would be for him to succeed in granting Tom's wish. He was still keen on being one of the best students in the Dark Arts, and Harry was sure Tom only asked for books from him to make him believe he was somehow important. "My granddad doesn't care about his library very much, and anyway, he always seems happy when I take out such difficult books."

Tom nodded, and Nott said goodbye before he turned to leave with Lestrange, who had been hovering over the conversation. Avery, Dolohov and Mulciber also said goodbye to Tom – perhaps whilst trying to show off their loyalty in even this small way – and soon the Common Room was clear of everyone besides Harry and Tom.

They stood in silence for a moment, both of them contemplating how long they should wait before they were safe to be together. They were standing near the back of the Common Room, away from the sight of the main entrance, thus they would hear anyone long before being seen. Tom seemed to notice this before Harry, for he was the first to move, making his way to stand besides him. He entwined his fingers with Harry's own, as he seemed to enjoy doing. Harry felt the desire begin to burn within him even with this simple gesture.

"We're finally alone." Tom commented.

Harry smiled a little at this, gazing into Tom's dark grey eyes. "Three weeks was still a long time to wait."

"Yes, but the glorious thing about time is that it always moves on," Tom said, taking Harry's other hand, "and we're here now."

"Yeah," Harry replied quietly, smiling. "I suppose we are…" He took one of his hands away to touch Tom's handsome face, as he had been craving to do for far too long. With the knowledge of free time ahead came a great satisfaction to Harry, and he savoured this feeling of blissfulness as he gazed at Tom.

His fingers moved to feel Tom's jaw, as the latter closed his eyes slowly in appreciation to his touch. Harry took a step forwards at this, clearing the distance, and kissed Tom. He felt Tom's lips press against his own delicately as he lent forwards, kissing him again, and again, until he soon found Tom moving with more ardour than ever so as to express his desire. Harry replied to him with just as much longing, his craving for the other boy's touch causing him to feel utterly disoriented.

Yet it was only a few minutes later, at the most, before Tom pulled away. Harry looked up at him, wondering why he was stopping. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I have to go to visit Slughorn," Tom said, looking almost as displeased about this as Harry was.

"Why do you have to go now?"

"It's a sort of rule on the first day of any holiday," Tom explained, his voice impassive, perhaps to sound as if it wasn't a bother.

"You'll be back later though?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Tom replied, surveying Harry, before kissing him once more. "He can't keep me there forever."

"Well, he's getting close," Harry remarked.

Tom smiled softly. "I'll make an excuse to leave early today. I should be back by dinnertime."

"Dinnertime?"

"That's early for Slughorn."

"You know, I think I'm going to end up hating Slughorn even more than you already do," Harry said.

"That's probably likely," Tom agreed, "but nothing much can be done about it."

He kissed Harry again once before they said goodbye, and Tom left. Harry was left somewhat bored after this, so he decided to read more books on the Dark Arts to pass the time. It didn't truly help, yet he made some progress in reading, at least. When he arrived in the great hall for dinner, he found that Tom wasn't anywhere to be seen, so he supposed Slughorn had decided they should eat in his office.

Harry hated how much time the Slug Club took from Tom and himself. It was probably the least important after school activity in the whole of Hogwarts, unless success and famous people were of any interest. When Harry thought about it, he knew deep inside that the Slug Club had been vital to some of the things in his past… yet that didn't make him enjoy its current existence any more.

After dinner, he waited in the Common Room for Tom. He sat there for over twenty minutes, before deciding he should return to the dormitory to continue reading, for he was exceedingly restless. Another twenty minutes passed beyond that, before Tom returned from Slughorn's office. Harry stood up when Tom entered the room; glad that Slughorn hadn't kept him any longer. He watched as Tom came towards him, and he could hear his heart beating in his ears when Tom was only a few feet away.

"Finally, Slughorn's meeting ended," Tom said quietly as he stood besides Harry. "Do excuse the fact of my lateness. I enjoyed it as little as you did, if not more. There are only so many times I can ask to leave politely…"

"I don't mind," Harry said. "You're here now, at least."

Tom gave a hum of agreement as he took Harry's hand in his own. "Yet that was quite a lot a time to waste being away from you today…"

Harry smiled softly. "We have two weeks now."

"Yes," Tom agreed, "and we're alone at last…"

They gazed at each other after this, both taking in the other's appearance with silent rapture. Tom decided to kiss Harry, his lips moving slowly, which caused Harry's craving to quickly deepen. Yet he pulled away again after only a few seconds. When Harry opened his eyes, he found Tom examining him. He was about to speak, before Tom moved his right hand to touch Harry's Slytherin tie. Tom continued to look at Harry, as Harry looked back at him. A soft smile appeared on his lips as he began untying the silky material.

When Harry's tie hung loose, Tom began undoing each of the buttons of his shirt, watching for Harry's reaction as his fingers gently caressed his chest. Harry's heart was beating progressively more quickly, and his breath became more uneven every second as Tom moved lower. He was disoriented once more at Tom's touch, as he anticipated what would come next. When his shirt was completely open, Tom pushed it away, his hands sliding down Harry's bare chest. Harry felt a strong wave of desire at this, and he couldn't help but kiss Tom passionately, perhaps as Tom had planned.

As their embrace deepened, Harry pushed Tom towards his bed, feeling for his tie as he did so. He pushed Tom fully backwards, leaning over him and realizing, suddenly, that he enjoyed the feeling of overpowering him. Tom's hands were sliding along Harry's back as he began to undo his tie. Harry unbuttoned Tom's shirt, all the while kissing him, their breath rough as their bodies pressed together. When his shirt was open, Tom sat up to take it off fully; kissing Harry, and pushing him back onto the bed instead.

Tom kissed Harry's neck, causing shivers to run down his spine, and Harry's hands pressed against Tom's chest, clawing it lightly as Tom began flicking his tongue against Harry's skin. Tom moved down towards his collarbone, his teeth lightly biting Harry, who whispered vague words of Parseltongue. He could feel Tom's hands touching his shirtless form. After a moment, he rolled over in a way that left Tom underneath him.

Tom smiled up at Harry softly, and Harry kissed him. Their lips moved against each other in passion before Harry broke away, and made his way lower, like Tom normally did to him. He pressed his lips against Tom's jaw, and Tom seemed to enjoy Harry's touch, for he stretched his neck up, his breath audibly less composed. Harry began licking Tom, his hands travelling along his body feverishly.

Before Harry could move lower, Tom rolled them over again. He hissed Harry's name softly before biting his neck fully, causing Harry to moan softly. Tom's hands were drawing designs down Harry's chest, before they reached his waistband. Harry whispered Tom's name in desire as he began unbuttoning his trousers, beginning the event that Harry had craved to happen again for so long…

~&~

Harry opened his eyes slowly. He wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping for; perhaps as much as an hour, or as little as ten minutes – it didn't really matter anyway. The only thing that he cared about now was the sight in front of his eyes. Tom was lying next to him, staring into space vaguely as he thought. Harry was glad that Tom was still here, and he smiled a little as he continued to gaze at him, reflecting on what happened before he had fallen asleep.

Tom must have noticed, after some time, that Harry was no longer asleep, for he paused in his thoughts to look towards the other Slytherin. Tom smiled when he saw Harry, and shifted his position to face him fully.

"I'm glad you're awake," Tom said.

"How long was I asleep for?" Harry asked.

"A little over an hour."

"What time is it?"

"Eleven," Tom replied, taking his hand to caress Harry's jaw lightly.

"Did you fall asleep?"

"For a time," Tom said, before smiling again. "Yet how could I sleep for any proper amount of time when my conscious only dwelt upon the handsome boy besides me?"

"Handsome?" Harry repeated, "I think that's a bit of a stretch."

Tom frowned. "Well, I certainly find you handsome, even if you don't agree. Although I can't seem to decide why… Perhaps it's because of your jaw," he said softly, kissing Harry, "for that has to be one of my favourite parts about you. Or your lips" he kissed him again, "or your nose," and again, "or your beautiful green eyes…"

Harry kept his eyes closed even after Tom kissed his eyelids, and Tom soon moved back to his lips again, beginning another deep kiss. Tom ran his fingers through Harry's hair passionately as Harry caressed his shirtless back. Yet they pulled away after a few minutes, knowing that they had the whole night and longer to be together, and thus didn't need to rush. They gazed at each other, each still within the other's arms.

Harry's was examining Tom's handsome features, and it was a minute before he noticed that Tom was looking at his forehead. From familiarity, Harry realized that the other Slytherin was staring at his scar. Harry was tempted to hide it from Tom again, but he knew that wouldn't help now. He waited for Tom to speak, already deciding upon a lie to tell about it.

"I never noticed you had a scar before," Tom said softly.

Harry mused that this was perhaps the first time a Wizard had looked at his scar without the awe of realizing who he was to the world.

"When did you get it?" Tom asked.

"I've had it my whole life," Harry said truthfully.

"You weren't born with it, surely?"

"No," Harry replied. "But I don't remember ever not having it… I think I got it at the time Grindelwald hunted down my family."

Tom gave a hum of understanding as he traced the lightning-bolt shape of Harry's scar, his last smile long gone. Harry felt a slight pang of unease at the thought of Tom knowing, seeing, and remembering his scar, yet he knew it wouldn't really matter. It would be too late if or when Tom linked the scar to anything important. Harry watched for Tom's reaction towards this mark, to understand more clearly what he might be thinking in relation to his lie. Tom seemed vaguely curious, yet perhaps more … concerned? Harry wasn't really sure.

"Why do you hide it?" Tom asked.

"To avoid questions, mostly," Harry replied.

"Ah, indeed… I'm assuming some form of Dark Magic did this?"

"I think so," Harry said.

"It's quite neat…" Tom mused.

"I can't say I'm very fond of it," Harry remarked.

Tom's gaze dropped from Harry's scar to look at him in the eyes. "I meant only that there is but a handful of curses which would leave such a clean design," Tom explained. His eyes wandered upwards again. "Though now you mention it, it is quite striking, considering. I wonder what spell caused it…"

"It could have even been an object, and not a spell," Harry said, showing Tom other options so he didn't investigate the scar too determinedly.

"Of course," Tom said, "Yet wouldn't someone have healed it?"

"Oh… yeah, I suppose so."

Some time after this, Tom seemed to realise that Harry was vaguely uncomfortable with having his scar scrutinized. Even if he was not aware of Harry's complete reasons for feeling uneasy, he didn't hesitate to stop staring. He kissed the scar once, before moving lower on the bed to gaze into Harry's eyes. They sat in silence for a while, kissing each other on and off, before Tom spoke.

"What's your greatest fear?" he asked.

For an unknown reason, Harry found that he wasn't at all surprised or curious as to why Tom was asking this. He paused for a moment before answering, "I think my greatest fear is not being able to protect the people I care about."

Tom seemed to understand Harry's choice without asking, even if he himself was unlikely to have ever said the same. As such a Slytherin, Harry wondered whether Tom would even be willing to share his own fears, his weaknesses…

"What's your greatest fear?" Harry asked.

Tom took just as long as Harry had to answer this. "Darkness."

Harry tried hard not to look surprised. He tried to think of some memories to back up such a claim. "Why?"

Tom looked somewhat embarrassed at this, and he dropped his gaze a little from Harry's eyes. "I don't know… It's probably something to do with the orphanage."

"They didn't have lights?"

"Not in the London Blitz," Tom replied. "When I was fourteen and fifteen they didn't trust any of us with lights… I suppose Muggle bombs must also be a fear of mine, or else not having the ability to use magic, for protection."

Harry had never really thought about it before, yet he realised now that Tom had surely been in London in the summers when air raids were more than common. He would have been too young to use magic legally, of course, thus he would have suffered every day along with Muggles in knowing that they could die at any moment…

Harry then remembered about the cave where Voldemort had decided to hide Slytherin's Locket. Hadn't Dumbledore said something about Voldemort choosing such a dark and eerie place from inspiration from his own fears? It would make a lot of sense… Harry was somewhat caught of guard to realize that he found Tom's worse fear completely understandable. It even sounded as terrible as his own worst fear in some small way, but Harry wasn't sure why.

"That's why you stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Tom replied. "The headmaster let me stay here after some convincing…"

"It must have been terrible," Harry said, not knowing what else to say.

"Being in the middle of the beginning of a Wizarding War mustn't have been much better," Tom replied.

"Yeah… but we had magic at least."

Tom nodded, and they lay quietly for a while, both understanding the other's silence. They talked for quite a while longer after this, moving onto descriptions of other pieces of their pasts. Harry twisted stories often to suit his fictional past more, yet he was glad to see that he didn't need to change anything too dramatically anymore. Tom shared stories perhaps less often than Harry, yet not any less sincerely. In was exceedingly early in the morning by the time they both fell asleep, after another long series of embraces.

Days seemed to fall like grains of sand past this night, yet not a moment of it was wasted or forgotten in Harry's mind. There were days that passed by with Harry merely talked to Tom before the night arrived, and days were Harry couldn't remember spending a minute out of Tom's arms. In contradiction to the previously sluggish pass of time, everything was suddenly going by so quickly. What was more, Harry couldn't remember there ever having been a happier time in his life.

It was still early in the holiday as Harry and Tom made their way back from the Great Hall, heading for a staircase that would lead them back down to the Slytherin Common Room. It was around eight O'clock, and the sky outside displayed a nearly setting sun. The corridor they walked through seemed completely deserted.

"So why did you make me deliver your letter to that student who lives in that hut in the grounds?" Harry asked, pretended he had forgotten Hagrid's name.

"To see if you could manage it, amongst other things," Tom said. "I'm sussing you read the letter?"

"Of course."

"What did you think of it?"

Harry could tell that Tom expected him to have gotten something out of the letter, but he decided against speaking about his knowledge of the Chamber of Secrets. "That boy has a giantess mother, doesn't he?" Harry asked.

Tom smiled. "Yes. But I knew you would guess that, even without the letter. I don't see how everyone doesn't know."

"Why did you challenge me so much though? Surely there were other ways to learn how I managed to get around the school without being caught."

"It was more of a test to see if you were getting around the school," Tom replied.

"So… you still don't know how I do it?"

"No, I know how you do it now," Tom said. "As soon as I saw you could go unseen, I knew you had an invisibility cloak. I also watched to see when you would arrive at your destination."

Harry smiled as they turned towards a staircase that descended to the dungeons, wondering why he hadn't guessed as much before. There were no portraits on the walls here, thus no one to see them, so he stopped walking and reached for Tom's hand. "Well, I like your challenges," he said quietly.

Tom smiled back down at Harry once he stopped walking. He looked as though he was tempted to kiss him again, but before either of them could do anything else, Tom pulled his hand away. Harry wondered why he did this, before Tom turned to look to their left. Dumbledore was standing in the corridor, frozen. It looked to Harry as though he had just appeared around the corner… yet he still wasn't sure how long the Transfiguration Professor had been standing there for.

Harry was completely sure that Dumbledore could only see two perfectly unreadable students now, yet he still worried about what could have been seen before this. He supposed – perhaps hopefully – that Tom and himself holding hands could appear to have just been for the sake of Harry wanting to stand still to talk, yet all of that depended upon what angle Dumbledore looked upon them from, and what time exactly he had arrived here.

The only chance Harry and Tom had now rested in the art of pretending that nothing had happened. Harry tried hard not to remember how much Dumbledore distrusted Tom even now, because Dumbledore was surely likely to think nothing odd of this situation if Harry was unconcerned in expression… To no one's surprise, Tom was the first one to speak in the silence.

"Good evening professor," he said calmly. "What brings you towards the dungeons at this hour?"

"Professor Slughorn, naturally," Dumbledore replied, just as calmly. "I presume you two are headed for the Slytherin Common Room?"

"Of course, sir."

"Well, I suppose we had all better be off," Dumbledore said, perhaps accepting nothing had happened, perhaps hoping to ask more questions as they walked.

Tom nodded as Dumbledore strode towards them, and they headed for the staircase. Harry tried not to make his sudden distance from Tom too obvious as he walked in front of him. Dumbledore did indeed engage in more conversation with the two Slytherins, yet he didn't ask any questions that made Harry particularly anxious. Harry and Tom talked about the event a little when they arrived in the Common Room, yet the subject was dropped after a lack of progress made from it.

More time passed by, and Harry found himself constantly forgetting what hour, or even day it was. He didn't believe he would ever get over how wonderful it felt to pass the nights away with Tom, and all he knew was that he wanted to spend as much time as possible with him before the beginning of school…

It was midway through the holiday before Harry had even realised the time, yet it still didn't really bother him. Tom intertwined their hands as they sat upon a couch in the Common Room, gazing into each other's eyes. Harry could barely remember what they had been talking about all day, yet he knew that was almost the only thing they had been doing.

Harry could tell that Tom wanted to go to bed early this evening, and he wasn't at all surprised when Tom soon brought their interlinked hands to his lips, kissing Harry's palms softly in longing. It was with no hesitation that Harry followed Tom into the dormitories, kissing him along the way. Harry wasn't sure how long this night's whirl of passion had continued for, yet he could recall every kiss Tom had given him, and every touch they had shared.

Harry was resting vaguely as he lay with Tom upon his bed. He was distracted from sleep with the fact that Tom was still gazing at him. Harry wanted to engage in conversation with Tom more, yet Tom didn't seem talkative suddenly. He also wanted to continue embracing him, yet Tom kept pulling himself away, surprisingly reluctantly. Harry guessed, after a while, that Tom merely wished to think, so he followed.

Harry was falling asleep slightly as the minutes passed on. He was still awake technically as he listened to the sound of Tom breathing besides him, yet he was bored of his thoughts, which in truth only lingered on the idea of Tom. Harry wondered what Tom could be thinking about as they lay in silence. He wondered if something was wrong, yet he couldn't think of what. He had the suspicion that Tom was going to say something soon, though. After about an hour, he found he was right.

"Harry?" spoke Tom's voice quietly, breaking through the silence.

Harry opened his eyes. "Yeah?"

Tom paused after this, evidently struggling to find his words. Harry wondered again he was thinking about. "What is it?"

"I…"

Harry wasn't at all sure if Tom was even going to continue after this. He seemed to be trying to decide – perhaps unwillingly – whether or not to say what was on his mind. It took Harry a great deal of effort to refrain from pressing the subject more as he gazed at Tom. Finally, Tom decided to continue.

"Harry… I love you."

Harry froze, staring at Tom. He could barely believe that Tom had actually said these words, yet he knew he couldn't have misheard him in this quiet room. It took him a minute to realise that his heart was suddenly beating rapidly in his chest as his mind raced. Tom was watching him intently, wearing an expression Harry couldn't read in his bewildered state. Tom loved him. As insane as such a concept was to him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe, a sense of complete astonishment.

Did Harry love him? This was the only thought within Harry's head now. He wasn't even sure what love was… Was it the wish, the craving, to stay with someone forever? The disbelief that anyone upon the earth could compare to the one person he connected with most of all? The sense of seemingly eternal happiness, which Harry couldn't recall ever having before, and somehow ever not having?

Harry didn't know how to define love, and he wasn't foolish enough to try so simply… but somehow, for an unknown and previously unnoticed reason, Harry felt as though the idea of being in love with Tom fitted. He gazed at Tom more, basking in the elation that filled him at this thought. "I love you too, Tom."

Harry watched as Tom took in these words. He realized, quite suddenly, that neither of them was smiling at this. Even with how much all of this delighted Harry, there was something in Tom's expression that told Harry there was more. Tom seemed thrilled with Harry's reaction – there was no doubting that – yet there was also a shadow of sadness that Harry didn't quite understand. He waited patiently for Tom to speak, knowing that this was too important to rush.

"I have to tell you something," Tom said in little over a whisper, "something I've never been foolish enough to tell anyone else before."

"What is it?" Harry asked, trying to think back on the secrets Tom had already told him.

Harry didn't think he had ever seen Tom so sorrowful, and with this he suddenly knew that Tom believed what he was about to say would demolish Harry's every remark of endearment. With every second Tom appeared more dismayed. Harry waited for Tom to speak, craving to know what was wrong.

"I've murdered someone," Tom said quietly, gazing at Harry as though he expected this to be his last moments with him.

Harry should have seen this coming long ago. He faked a look of surprise and concern for a moment, as he dropping his gaze to think. He was somehow glad that Tom trusted him enough to share this secret now, yet that was only a minor thought triggered by this confession. In truth, Harry still wasn't at all sure how he felt about Tom's crimes anymore… He remembered how outraged he had been to hear about the tale of Merope Gaunt at first, so somewhere – somehow – he knew that a part of him felt no sympathy for Tom's father… though it was still murder.

Then Harry remembered how Tom's father had caused Tom's whole life to be so depressing and despairing. On reflection, it was close to no surprise that Tom had sought revenge. It pained Harry to think about how much better Tom's life could have been if his mother had merely been able to survive… Harry suddenly decided what he wanted to say, and he was glad to hear that he didn't need to moderate his tone of voice as he spoke. "No one is innocent in the world, no matter how hard they try to go against such a plain rule… Some people deserve to die."

Tom considered this answer for a time. "But what if I had killed more than one person?" he asked quietly.

"Who?" Harry asked in necessity.

Tom's mouth twitched for a second, as though even the memory of his victims annoyed him. "My father and grandparents."

"Why?" Harry asked. He wanted to hear an explanation in Tom's voice.

"My father was a Muggle," Tom began with a slight hesitation, as though it caused him physical pain to recite the truth. "My mother – a pure blooded Witch of Salazar Slytherin's bloodline – fell in love with him, but knew the only way she could gain his affection was through the use of magic. I long ago worked out that she fed him love potion, and they ran away from their families to live together. My mother became pregnant, and somehow believed that my father would be in love with her even after the use of potions. Whether it was from the influence of mood swings, or some series of events, or out of general stupidity, I don't know. She had neither money nor shelter when he left, and thus died giving birth to me. That's how I ended up in that Muggle orphanage…"

"Why did you kill your grandparents too?" Harry asked, this question having always bothered him slightly.

"I wasn't planning to," Tom said. "I wasn't even planning on finding my father so soon… When I arrived at their residence, I crept inside the building, and soon found myself outside a room where they were all stationed, talking. It only took me minutes to see that they were all the same in measures of sickening arrogance. They began talking of my mother… I couldn't stand the idea of a minute's more worth of words from them, even as much as I hated my mother for being weak…"

Harry paused for a while after this, yet he couldn't think of what to comment.

Tom seemed to be wondering whether Harry understood him at all or not. Harry could see there was one last thing he wanted to say, and he waited for it. When Tom did speak again, his voice was far less displeased. "I feel no regrets about it."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I mean… that I would do it again if I had the chance. I would do it happily."

Harry wasn't sure what he thought about this. "But you seem hesitant now."

"That's merely because I care what you think."

"But, you must care about it if you're –"

"– You're the only person I care about," Tom interrupted. When Harry made no comment, he continued. "You're the only person I've ever cared about… the only person I've ever felt inclined to tell the truth to. I need you to understand that I feel no sympathy for those I've killed."

Harry wasn't sure why Tom was so determined to explain the exact extent of his murderous habits. Harry knew only too well about what he had done wrong… Again he could see a shadow of sorrow in Tom's eyes, and he understood that Tom didn't want him to be taken aback when he was to commit more murders…

"I do understand," Harry said truthfully. Tom didn't look very convinced, so Harry added; "I'm going to kill Grindelwald in a few years. Maybe sooner. That's the same thing."

Tom seemed vaguely tempted to remind Harry that planning on murdering someone and actually doing it were two very different things, yet he said nothing. Clasping Harry's hand in his own, Tom kissed Harry gently. Before they moved into a deeper kiss, however, Harry moved away a little to whisper, "I love you, Tom… No matter what has or will happen."

Tom smiled this time. "I love you too, Harry."

~&~

Note to Readers: It's highly unlikely that I'll ever write a full sex scene in this fic. As some of you may have noticed, this story is rated T+, not M. The reason behind such a decision is not as simple as "I'm a prude", or "sex is gross", because I'm not that simple–minded; the reason behind this choice is that I fucking hate Harry Potter PWP, and I in no way want to encourage it. xD

I hope that's a good enough reason. Even if it isn't, I don't really care. If you're looking for sex, I'm afraid you've just wasted your time reading over 80,000 words. If you want an acceptable story with somewhat interesting characters and plot, please, keep reading.

I'll be pretty disappointed if I lose readers merely because I'm standing for something… I don't hate sex scenes all the time; I just hate about 99.9% of them. When annoying, short fics written for erotic purposes are posted less on this site, I'll start writing full sex scenes (and yes, that pretty much means never).

There are also too many parts of plot and so on that I want to get accomplished, so I don't want to waste my time on long descriptions of what they do in bed. As you can see from much of the dialog in this chapter, this story is more about love than lust. Just wait until the next chapter, that's where things get interesting.

What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic, I suppose, and not a stereotypical teenager who only has but one priority in life.