Harry drummed his fingers on the table softly as he forced himself to try and listen to what Dumbledore was talking about yet again. It was a cloudy Friday afternoon and the Transfiguration Classroom was quiet for the most part as wind and rain pounded against the tall windows of the castle. Even without the constant reminder from every teacher and student he spoke to within the school, Harry knew only too well that the NEWTs were four weeks away… but he also knew that this wasn't bothering him in the slightest. He was only keen on listening to Dumbledore speak because he wanted something – anything – to be distracted by.

It had been a little over a week since Harry found out about the Death Eaters' attempts on Professor Spindle's life. Harry bit the inside of his lips at the very thought of it, trying to settle his nerves, but it didn't truly help. It had been more than a week and nothing had been resolved. The Death Eaters were seriously contemplating murdering him in secret, and with their lack of morality, Harry was finding it impossible to accept all of this.

He had been trying, in vain, to convince his own mind that he didn't care about any of it – he told himself over and over again that it didn't matter, that it was just some unavoidable inconvenience, but his sore lips were telling him quite the opposite. Harry just shouldn't think about it… even if it was the most excruciatingly revolting thing he had ever heard. He struggled to remain impassive in this quiet classroom as a sickened expression came over him. But what else had he expected from Death Eaters?

Although, Nott and Lestrange weren't so foul… they, and people like Rosier didn't seem to like this dark shadow that hung over their entire group any more than Harry did. Harry had been reading their minds often lately, whilst staying far away from Dolohov's and so on. All of the Death Eaters were suddenly willing to think about more things near Harry, and Harry was occasionally willing to take advantage of this fact. Nott and Lestrange's thoughts were almost reassuring at times.

(It's about time he knows, anyway,) Lestrange had thought the first time Harry read his mind since being informed on the whole situation. (I'm almost glad of it. It's terrible that another one of us has to suffer with the weight of this crime, though I simply can't stand having to stop myself from thinking about certain things around people. Riddle's far too paranoid when it comes to trusting us with secrets. Although I'd never want to be the one who tells him that… ugh … I wonder how long it will take Jonathan to block it out, or else get used to it…)

(Will he leave? I can't be sure,) Nott thought in relation to Harry one evening. (He obviously won't be able to handle it as well as some of us, even if he hides that well. Why else would Tom have kept it a secret? Tom didn't save any of the rest of us it. I wonder what Jonathan's views on Muggles even are… I'm glad I'm not the only one who is terrified by this murder… And Avery wonders why I don't like hanging around him, anymore…)

Harry was regretting that he hadn't prolonged his argument with Tom a week ago. He had only done so because he didn't want to seem too concerned or too varying from his previous acceptances. But cold murder was quite different to joking about blood purity or learning a few spells. Harry saw now that more than half of the Death Eaters were ill at ease with this elephant in the room, but even if they weren't, it would still be eating away at Harry as it now was.

Tom must have seen all of this – must have heard all the reasons for murder to be called immoral and appalling – but he wasn't doing anything about it. Harry didn't even understand how this was possible. Tom had more than enough power over his Death Eaters to stop this, but he must just not care enough to want to change anything. Harry had wondered, perhaps ignorantly, whether Tom even knew how horrible this was, and how important it was to stop.

How had Harry supposed for even a minute that lying about being okay with everything was a good idea? He assumed, after a time, that Tom would now be under the illusion that the only thing that had bothered him was the idea of a secret, and that was rather misleading. Harry regretted every lie he had told that night… He felt as though all the blame for this crime would soon crash down upon his shoulders, even as he sat in silence, not knowing who Professor Spindle really was...

He had hoped, unsuccessfully, that Tom might reflect upon the whole situation, perhaps realising that Harry really wasn't okay with it, but over a week had passed and Tom hadn't mentioned it again. The more time Harry waited, the more chance there was of this getting worse, and he was worried about that. He really wasn't sure how much longer he could suffer trying to keep these thoughts and emotions hidden.

The bell rang to signal the end of class. Harry stood up with the other students, packing away his books, parchment, quill and inkwell as he continued to think. As he left the classrooms with Tom and a few of the Death Eaters, he decided he was going to stop hiding his real thoughts tonight…

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

Harry hesitated for a second, as he saw a few of the Death Eaters turn out of the corner of his eye. "I was wondering whether I could speak to you?"

Tom seemed mildly surprised. He didn't answer for a second as he contemplated this.

"It's important," Harry added.

"Of course," Tom said, standing up. Harry did the same. "Shall we walk?"

"Sure."

They left the headquarters; a few Death Eaters watching them go with mild curiosity. They set off along one of the cold, empty corridors that wove across the dungeons, their footsteps echoing as loudly as always against the stone floor and walls. It was quite a stretch of time before either Tom or Harry spoke, to be sure that none of the Death Eaters would overhear them.

"What do you wish to talk about that couldn't wait until later on?" Tom asked carefully as they walked. He was examining Harry's expression, as always.

Harry struggled with his words for a minute, before he sighed, and decided to say exactly what was on his mind. "I'm not okay with what some of the others do."

There was a short pause. "What do you mean?"

Annoyance played at the edges of Harry's mind. "What do you think I mean?"

Tom paused. He seemed unsure what to say for a moment.

"You said you didn't really care about what the others did," he reminded Harry, his expression never displaying a flicker of emotion. "You said it was their business, and that neither of us could control–"

"I lied," Harry admitted, wondering why Tom hadn't guessed as much.

Tom was confused. "Why?"

"I - I was just so overwhelmed with the idea of them murdering Spindle," Harry admitted lamely. "I sort of… panicked."

They were still walking, heading towards the upper floors of the castle now. "What do you want me to do?" Tom asked.

"Well, stop them maybe?"

"I've already said that I cannot stop them," Tom stated. "Even you said that neither of us could control it."

"I was lying when I said that," Harry said, his temper raising. "You have more than enough ability to stop them – I know you do."

They were on the first floor now, ascending a staircase that was leading them even higher. "I don't want to stop them," Tom said simply.

"Why not?" Harry asked in bewilderment.

"Why would I want to?" Tom inquired in response.

"Because what they're dong is immoral?" Harry suggested, his voice rising every second. It was past ten O'clock. It took everything within him to refrain from yelling at Tom for being so frustratingly unwilling to accept anything he said. "Because it's terrorizing the school, because they'll be doing this for the rest of their lives otherwise!"

Tom was silent as they continued to climb these stairs, making their way without comment towards one of the empty sitting rooms on the sixth floor. No one would hear them argue from there. Tom didn't continue their conversation as they headed higher and higher, but Harry knew he was thinking about it all. When they reached the sixth floor, they headed along a few corridors that led them to their destination. Tom was still silent as he held the door open for Harry. He closed it softly behind him when they were both inside the room.

They stared at each other for a minute more.

"I don't understand why you feel this way," Tom remarked, his voice still calm. "I don't see why you care."

"I care because what they're doing is sick!"

"What they're doing is not important," Tom replied. "Spindle is a Muggle-lover, he-"

"It's extremely important!" Harry contradicted. "You can't get away with just murdering a teacher for standing for the rights of Muggles! How can't you see that?"

"I'm not a part of it," Tom asserted, his voice finally displaying the annoyance Harry had been waiting for as he ignored the last question. "I neither led them to this nor encouraged them into continuing it."

"But you're their leader!" Harry exclaimed. "If they think you're fine with it, they'll never question it."

"They know I have scarcely any strong views about murder," Tom said. "They know I'm not in charge of their every inclination, as you too should understand."

"But they'd do absolutely anything you say, and if you told them to stop–"

"I won't use my influence over them to change something I didn't start!" Tom said furiously.

"That you didn't start?" Harry asked. "Of course you started this! You were the one who introduced them all to the Dark Arts, to this endless spiral of twisted crime–"

"You're blaming me for this directly?" Tom asked in indignation. "Are you suggesting I taught them directly how to murder people?"

"No, I just…" Harry began pacing the room, running his fingers through his hair as he felt anger pulse through his veins. "They just can't be allowed to continue this," he carried on. "They can't be allowed to destroy people's lives for their own amusement!"

"I can't monitor their whole lives," Tom stated, his annoyance never wavering. "What they do is no one's business but their own."

"You don't need to monitor their whole lives; you just need to tell them that it's wrong!"

"Why don't you tell them?" Tom offered dryly.

"Are you scared of them or something?" Harry asked.

"Are you?" Tom inquired just as irritably.

"I'm horrified! And it's insane that you're refusing to do anything about it! You must have heard all of the reasons why this is wrong by just reading the minds of any of your friends who still have even a drop of morality left in them, but you still haven't done anything about it! People are being punished for even speaking about Muggles, Tom, and you're acting as though it's better – it's easier for you – if this carries on!"

"Why must you blame me for every last mistake my friends make?"

"Because I don't know how to handle this!" Harry replied. "I don't even know where to begin accepting this horrible situation!"

Tom appeared taken aback at this. He stared at Harry. There was a pause, where he didn't seem to know what to say. Harry stood in equal silence, keen on allowing Tom to think as his own mind wove around in circles of worry. Over a minute passed.

Tom's voice was quiet when he spoke again. "If you can't handle this, then…"

"Then what?" Harry asked.

Tom's expression was unreadable. "I don't know."

Silence fell again. Memories of why Harry had backed away from this same argument a week ago began to seep back into his mind. But one main thing had changed since then; no matter how educated the Death Eaters became in Dark Arts, no matter how powerful they were under Tom's influence, Harry didn't believe that they could do anything quite as horrible as this so soon…

"You've never met Professor Spindle," Tom said. "You don't know how he cherishes Muggles."

"I don't care. It doesn't make a difference... It's still taking a human life..."

Harry had to hide his annoyance at Tom's mention of Muggles As if that made any of this better…

"They've never murdered a teacher before," Tom told him. "This isn't common."

"They still do it... I don't know what you can't understand about that."

He gazed at Tom for a minute, before his eyes moved to the floor in thought. He wished Tom would just understand how horrible this was. Even if Tom knew about some perfect balance he was supposed to maintain in keeping all of the Death Eaters under his order, he shouldn't even hesitate on this.

Tom had made no reply, but after what seemed like a few minutes at least, Harry heard his footsteps. When he looked up, Tom was in front of him, his handsome face perhaps a little concerned as his dark eyes examined Harry carefully. Harry felt Tom's hand touch his own. He looked down again to watch their fingers intertwine. They stood for a while, just holding hands, before either of them spoke.

"Will you ever be able to accept it?" Tom asked softly.

Harry looked up at Tom, gazing into his dark grey eyes. He decided to be fully honest. "No."

Tom paused as he contemplated this. "Will you bear their jokes about it for now?" he asked. "It a mere month before we leave this School. They won't even be able to do kill Spindle before then, with the NEWTs and so on distracting them."

He reached up his free hand to touch Harry's face, caressing his fingers along his jaw softly.

"We won't even see them for years..."

"What about after Hogwarts for them?" Harry asked. "How do you know they won't continue to try murdering people who teach wizards about Muggles?"

"They fear the Ministry far more than the headmaster of Hogwarts, Armando Dippet," Tom assured him, "and they will be far too busy getting jobs to even meet up with one another again, never mind organise another crime."

"I suppose so…" Harry said slowly, but he still wasn't very convinced.

"We'll forget about them all too quickly," Tom stated, his hand still stroking Harry's face gently as he spoke. "None of this will even matter when we're alone at last."

Harry gazed at Tom, enjoying the feeling of his long, thin fingers touching his face, but knowing he still hadn't changed anything for the better. "We can't do nothing," he asserted.

"We don't need to do anything," Tom replied softly. "It will all fade away no matter what we do."

Harry watched Tom, wishing he could believe these words. When he found no reply to this, Tom leant forwards to kiss him softly. They lingered on this kiss for a while; nonverbally taking back any harsh things they may have said to each other in their argument. Harry found that the feeling of Tom's lips brushing gently against his own, of Tom's hands slowly making their way up his back, and of Tom's breath becoming increasingly more impassioned was pushing the idea of the Death Eaters away from his mind. He felt as though it was too soon when Tom pulled away from their embrace, gazing into his eyes once more.

"If they really start plotting murder," Harry continued, "will you do something about it?"

Tom thought about this for a minute. "Yes…"

Harry nodded; glad they had reached some form of agreement.

"Shall we sit?" Tom asked quietly.

"Sure," Harry replied.

Tom led him to one of the comfortable couches that rested within this room, and they sat down, close to each other.

"What are we going to do after we leave Hogwarts?" Harry asked Tom before they could do anything else.

Tom smiled faintly at this question. "We'll have to find our own room in a flat, to begin," he said.

"How?" Harry asked, liking this idea already.

"There is a whole number of ways we could manage it," Tom answered. "We obviously won't be able to move into even a purposely shared flat together on request, for that would cause much suspicion, and the chance of being chosen as room mates randomly is rather thin, but we still could use anything from lies to curses to get what we want. No one would suspect a thing, with this being such a simple thing to ask for."

"We both need to find jobs at this time, as well," Harry stated.

"Of course," Tom agreed.

"Do you still want to be a teacher here at Hogwarts?" Harry asked before Tom could carry on.

"Yes," Tom said. "The Defence Against the Dark Arts job, if I can manage it. As I've probably already told you, professor Merrythought is more than willing to give up her post, just as soon as someone offers for the job to be taken off her hands."

"Does Dippet know about it yet?"

"Yes, she talked to him about it for a few months ago. He has even put out word that the job is available now."

"You're lucky she didn't decide to retire earlier," Harry commented.

He watched as a shadow of a smile appeared on Tom's lips. "Yes, quite lucky…"

Harry paused for a minute, wondering why Tom was smiling. "Did you… do something to make this happen?" he asked.

Tom looked down at their interlinked hands for a second, smiling more. "Well, I wasn't just going to watch the perfect opportunity slip through my grasp."

"What did you do?"

"Not very much," Tom replied. "I only had a few chats with Merrythought, hinting most obviously towards the idea that I would one day like to teach, and how I thought she was simply the most insightful and inspirational person I had ever met on the subject of Defence Against the Dark Arts – which is, to her mislead assumptions, my absolute favourite of all Hogwarts' classes."

Harry smiled a little at the idea of this, completely unsurprised that Tom would act upon his hope towards Merrythought remaining at the school until he was to leave. "So she wants to give you the job?"

"For the most part, yes," Tom said. "Though it's not truly her choice. She is thinking about dropping in a good word to Dippet about me before she leaves the school fully, which is most helpful. I have no reason to believe that Dippet wouldn't want me to have this job, what is more."

Harry smiled again as he withheld the fact that he knew Dippet would think Tom was too young for the job. "Why do you want to teach?" he asked, out of general curiosity to hear his answer first–hand as well as to keep the conversation going well.

"There are many reasons," Tom replied. "The most obvious of which would be that I myself find endless satisfaction in learning things almost continuously, and I could easily gain a lot more knowledge from being at Hogwarts for longer. Then there is the whole idea of having the chance to influence young minds… I think that is something that people in general undervalue for the most part. With teaching hundreds of young Witches and Wizards about the way I personally perceive the world comes the opportunity to use their power to my own advantage."

"Like with what you did in teaching us all the Dark Arts?"

"In a very similar way to that, yes."

"Why Defence Against the Dark Arts then?" Harry asked, already vaguely knowing the answer.

Tom smiled. "By teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts it will be my responsibility to teach students about defending themselves against the terrifying – yet brilliant – world of the Dark Arts. But if I taught the class in the correct way, the Dark Arts could catch the interest of many of my students. I could be persuaded by them to display pieces of the Dark Arts after a time, and perhaps I could even begin to teach them a little bit about the magic that rests in the blurry grey line between white and black… There would surely come a time, after the students have spent years in my class, when I could teach them proper Dark Magic with them barely even realising that these 'defences' can easily be used as weapons."

Harry wasn't really sure how he felt about Tom's master plan, but he knew that it would never be out into action, anyway. "It sounds like you've put quite a lot of thought into this idea."

"As always," Tom replied, smiling. "But tell me, what job do you want to have?"

"Oh, I'm not really sure…"

In full honesty, he hadn't given the idea much thought at all. He had only really thought about what he would need to do to reach the year 1990 again. He quickly began contemplating what he needed to do after he left Hogwarts … He needed to pretend that he was hunting down Gellert Grindelwald, to begin. Yet he would only need to do that for a few months, for after that, Dumbledore would win the duel against Grindelwald and lock him in Nurmengard Prison…

But Harry would still need to steal Dumbledore's wand. Harry was almost surprised when he remembered this, his quest for the Deathly Hallows… he wasn't completely sure whether he truly wanted them anymore, but an idea relating to all of this suddenly clicked in his head, and he stopped dwelling on the far future.

"I just want to work somewhere where I can hear what people are talking about, beyond the news we'll be able to read in the newspapers," Harry stated. "I've learnt over the years that even what common Wizards notice and talk about is important. I want to be able to hear rumours and theories."

"In relation to Grindelwald?" Tom asked.

"Yes," Harry replied. "So I'll need to be somewhere where I have time to pause and think, to remember what they're saying."

"There are quite a few jobs that can fulfil that wish," Tom said. "I assume you don't want to work anywhere you can't leave instantly?"

"Yeah." Harry smiled, as he understood why Tom was asking this. "I can't exactly continue working in a shop if half of the country know or suspect that I murdered Gellert Grindelwald."

Tom smiled a little at this too.

"I also want to be near Hogwarts," Harry added, as a few more thoughts came to mind.

Tom paused. "Why?"

"I don't know…" He was thinking about Dumbledore. He would be able to watch the wise Wizard more easily if he was in Hogsmeade, and that would make stealing his wand a little easier, perhaps. He tried to think of an excuse for Tom. "I mean… if you're going to work at this school, I may as well be close."

The curiosity left Tom's face as he smiled. "Then you shall have to work in Hogsmeade," he said.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "It'll be perfect."

This seemed like a good enough plan to Harry, all and all. It was easy to plan your future once you already knew what was going to happen…

"I shall enjoy living in the same flat as you," Tom remarked, a soft smile dancing on his lips as he examined Harry. "I shall enjoy being alone with you again, and building a life with you, and having you as my secret relief…" He took Harry's free hand within his own, and brought it to his lips to kiss it gently. "And I shall enjoy sharing the same room as you, finally…" He leant forwards to kiss Harry on the lips.

Harry kissed Tom back, feeling elated as the embrace slowly deepened. He felt Tom's hands sliding along his waist as their breath began to become more uneven. Every inch of Harry's body was soon craving Tom's touch, and he was disorientated with longing for Tom to be yet closer to him. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when Tom pulled away.

"We should have returned to them by now," he said quietly.

Harry was a little disappointed with this idea. "I never want to return to them," he said.

"It won't be long until we leave this school," Tom reminded him again.

"Which is why we shouldn't care about whether they notice our absence," Harry replied.

Tom smiled a little. "I suppose that's true…"

"I don't see why they have to know where you are every minute of the day," Harry stated.

"They're merely cautious," Tom remarked.

"I can't understand why, though. Lestrange especially cares too much about where you are and if you're treating everyone fairly – or him fairly, at least. It's stupid."

"I suppose it is rather foolish, in a way," Tom noted. He paused for a minute. "I could never understand their feelings properly before I learnt Legilimency, you know…"

Harry noticed, suddenly, that Tom was no longer smiling. He wore an expressionless mask as his eyes were averted from Harry. He was thinking about something, but Harry couldn't guess what is could be. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Tom was quiet for a minute more, and gave no sign that he had heard Harry before he spoke. "I could never read anyone when I was a child, but I learnt to watch for those important movements and changes in countenance within people. With knowing them, I could create my own reaction to suite that of the other at will. I obsessed over the science of expressions for years…" Tom's voice was leaving a form of darkness upon the very air that Harry could neither avoid nor understand. He stared at Tom, transfixed, wondering why he spoke about expressions as though they had been shielded from him. "I'm still not sure that I understand some of what they feel, even when I can access the exact emotions…"

Harry didn't know what to make of this sudden confession or reflection. There was something eerie about the way Tom said this… or perhaps about what he was saying in general. Harry would have to have been exceedingly simpleminded to miss it. All Tom was talking about was the fact that he couldn't read people as a child, and how people still confused him now, and Harry didn't have the faintest clue why that would be a problem. But what did Tom mean about not understanding people even with Legilimency?

Tom suddenly looked up at him again, noticing how he hadn't commented. Harry expected him to ask for a response directly, but he didn't. He was watching Harry, but more intensely than usual… As Harry watched him, he felt as though Tom had realised some mistake in saying this, and he was now trying to see what Harry felt about it. They paused for a while. A long while.

"Is that normal?" Tom asked very quietly.

Harry hesitated. He wasn't even sure which aspect of all of this Tom was referring to… perhaps all of it. Or perhaps Tom was merely wondering if it was normal that such a dark and strange subject as a whole was so seemingly innocent when broken down. No matter what Tom was asking this in accordance to, though, Harry couldn't find a suitable answer.

"I don't know," was all he replied.

They sat staring at each other in silence after this, their hands interlinked, neither of them really understanding what had just happened.

"I mean, I suppose it's normal," Harry said, thinking it over again. "Most children can't read people at all, and… and even with Legilimency, emotions are still complicated…" No matter how hard Harry tried, though, he couldn't brush off the uncanny feel Tom's words had had.

"Yes," Tom said. He made no further comment on his understanding of Harry's justification, and Harry had a nagging suspicion that this was out of caution rather than lack of original thought… It was a long interval before their conversation went back to normal again.