Harry opened his tired eyes. He lay still for a time, staring at the slither of light that could be seen between the curtains on the window in front of him. It was a grey day outside, but already very late. Perhaps around five O'clock in the evening… it was hard to tell. Harry had wandered through Albania all night, venturing into new places, where Tom was unlikely to find him. As well as this, he had stayed awake in his flat until eleven O'clock, when he was finally too tired to postpone sleep, so Harry wasn't unsure why he was awake now, still very tired…

But then, he realised something had pulled him out of his sleep. He heard knocking at his front door, and he froze. He contemplated not moving, nor showing any obvious signs on being in this flat, but he knew the only person he dreaded facing would walk straight into his house anyway, if he didn't answer. Tom would make sure that Harry wasn't somewhere else before leaving. Harry would have to face Tom again sometime soon, anyway… and slowly, after a minute more of Tom knocking on his door, Harry got out of bed.

Courageously, perhaps, Harry made his way out of his bedroom, and along the wide hallway that led to other rooms, and the front door. Tom was still knocking, but he stopped when he heard footsteps. Harry had no doubt it was Tom waiting for him, since few of the Death Eaters knew where he lived, but some small part of him hoped that it might be one of his old school friends, for once. He hesitated for only a second before pulling the door open.

"I'm sorry," Tom said the moment he saw Harry.

Harry looked at Tom, almost glaring at him as he struggled with a response. His tone was cold. "Saying 'sorry' won't make all of this just go away."

"I didn't expect it to," Tom explained quickly, apparently careful of Harry's angry tone. "Yet that shouldn't make it any less sincere."

Harry made no comment on this. He didn't know what to think or feel, despite having sat for hours, waiting for thoughts and emotions to come to him naturally. He wasn't quite sure what had happened last night, or why, but seeing that Muggle tortured and burnt… Harry hadn't been prepared for that. He couldn't work out what Tom must have been thinking. He couldn't work out how Tom could possibly have believed that was a wise way to make Harry murder someone…

"Won't you let me in?" Tom urged. "I'd rather not discuss this on your doorstep."

Harry was tempted to say 'no', but he stopped himself from doing so. Tom's tone was different than usual, and this was convincing Harry that he actually meant some of what he said, somehow. Tom's normally sly, careful voice couldn't be heard today. He instead appeared keen to have his words heard, perhaps in slight desperation. Only time would tell whether Harry was imagining this, however. Harry opened the door wider, and walked back into his flat, Tom following him, and closing the door.

Harry led Tom into the comfortable sitting room that they had organised together. They both stood, too restless to take a chair, or to relax. Tom faced Harry from across the room, and Harry waited for him to speak first.

"Where were you last night?" Tom asked. "I searched for you for hours."

"I avoided you for hours," Harry responded.

"I was worried about you."

Harry was unmoved by this claim, but he had to resist the urge to turn away from Tom in annoyance. "I can look after myself, thanks."

"I never said you couldn't. I merely wanted to speak to you."

When Harry made no comment, it seemed Tom just skipped to the point.

"Please don't let this tear us apart," Tom implored. "I know now that I was wrong in asking you to murder that Muggle. I merely got too excited when I heard you speak of murdering Grindelwald. But you should know by now that we are worth more than a single tramp, who was likely to die in the next few years anyway. He was just another common Muggle–"

"I don't care about hating Muggles!" Harry exclaimed. "I've never cared about that, I only said it because I knew it's what your idiotic friends cared about at Hogwarts. I don't value Wizards any higher than Muggles, and I honestly don't care about whether we overrule them or not one day."

Tom didn't seem to find this very shocking. Harry watched him think about it for a minute, and he glared at Tom until he spoke. "Then know only that I asked you to killed that Muggle because I wanted to be with you forever. I thought you would be able to take it by now–"

"By now!" Harry echoed. "I can't just suddenly become a murderer, Tom."

"Why not?" Tom inquired. "It has been months now since you promised me you would accept what I do."

"I have been accepting it," Harry snarled, "but you haven't given me any time."

"It's been months!" Tom repeated.

"And it might just take longer than that, now!"

"How long must I wait, in your mind?" Tom demanded. "Until something happens, and it's too late for you to stay with me forever? We live dangerous lives, Harry, and all of that is about to get worse with Dragons to look after and Ministries to hide from. You cannot honestly believe that years can go by without you protecting yourself!"

"There's still plenty of time before our lives will be at risk–"

"Not if we want to move on with our lives!" Tom declared. "This is all I wish for – us to get over this standstill and do whatever we want to do, without the constant fear of death. We can do many great things together, Harry, but I can't bring myself start if you could die in the process!"

A stunned silence fell, as Harry heard true emotion behind Tom's words. Tom might have mistaken it as a new sort of anger or frustration, but Harry was sure Tom meant what he was saying. He was terrified of Harry dying, and he was caught between fearing death and craving to fulfil his aspirations. Harry didn't know what to say to this for a moment…

"I don't want to kill innocent people," he said, "not even for immortality. I don't like torturing people, or making them suffer for enjoyment I can't feel in the slightest, and I hate it when you do it, when you take lives for no reason. I forgive what you did to your father, and even Hepzibah Smith, but with last night… I could never accept that honestly. It sickens me."

Tom contemplated this, his previously irritated expression now slightly confused and disquieted. His chest rose and fell in the silence, while his breath slowly evened out. His was thinking about something carefully. His voice was quiet when he spoke. "I'll stop killing Muggles, if you want me to," he said. "I cannot stop my friends from harming them now, but I'll never touch one again personally if you despise it so much."

Harry stared, hardly daring to believe Tom's words. Tom was promising to never murder another Muggle… It seemed utterly unimaginable that Tom would say this, even while he added in the detail excusing the actions of his Death Eaters. Harry wanted to think that he had changed Tom in some way after all, but he felt this was an ignorant hope, when he remembered a few things. "You said something similar the last time you murdered a Muggle tramp."

"I never said anything like this," Tom insisted. "I thought you forgave me entirely, but I realise now it was merely circumstance. Now I swear, I won't do it again."

Harry didn't know whether to believe Tom. This could be a lie, a ruse, for Tom to keep Harry for as long as possible, waiting for the moment when he could convince Harry to kill the next Muggle they might fall across. "I don't know, Tom…"

"Please, trust me on this," Tom pleaded, taking a few steps across the room to stand closer to Harry. Harry felt Tom's hand enclose around his own. "I promise you I'm not lying. I wouldn't lie about this. Not to you."

Harry wondered whether he was projecting as he saw pure concern in Tom's eyes. Harry hoped with all his heart that Tom wasn't lying to him, but the more he thought about it, the more reasons there seemed to be for Tom to just tell him what he wanted to hear. He didn't want to think of Tom like this, to mistrust him… so he decided, after a long moment, that he shouldn't doubt his lover. "Fine. You have one more chance…"

A smile appeared on Tom's lips, the kindest one Harry had seen in a while. It was full of relief, and Harry watched it for a moment. Tom seemed to want to hold Harry closer, to kiss him, but Harry's lack of reaction was stopping him. "I missed you last night," Tom said quietly, perhaps thinking this would change Harry.

Harry only moved away from him, his fingers slipping through Tom's own. He wouldn't allow himself to forget all of this after one kiss, as if nothing had happened. It was nearly sunset, and they would have to gather the Death Eaters soon, ready to move the Dragons away from the mountains by this evening. They didn't have much time to get there.

"You should go find the others now," Harry said, as he turned away from Tom. "I'll catch up with you in a minute, after I get ready."

Tom didn't reply to this immediately. Harry didn't want to see his expression, so he remained with his back to him. Tom seemed to want to suggest that he stay here, to leave with Harry, but he understood the situation enough to know that Harry didn't want this. "I shall see you in a minute, then…"

Tom left without Harry saying another word, as he remained where he was, staring into space.

–X–

The sky was darkening, and it would be less than half an hour from now when the Dragons were moved. Harry had been put in charge of the group of five Death Eaters who were going to watch over all of the others, to be sure that if something went wrong there would be people around to help. It really was going to be a massive event, smuggling Dragons miles across the country…

Harry had been left to look after Nott, Rancell Macnair, Quentin Pyrites, Lestrange, and Duane Gonson. This group seemed to consist of the Death Eaters whose intelligence and ability to act on improvising overpowered their magical or physical strength. They were the most useful Death Eaters for fixing problems, especially as a team, Harry knew.

They were all standing at the top of a part of the mountain that surrounded the family of Dragons. They weren't exceedingly high from the usual ground level, but it was enough to hide this place from the easy access of Muggles, and even many Witches and Wizards. That's why Avery, Dolohov, and many of the Death Eaters had encouraged the Dragons to stay in this region of the mountains. The wind was powerful here, and their view of the Dragons was perfect. An occasional outburst of flames could be seen from the young creatures especially, and Harry knew he would see a lot more of this in the next hour or so.

Harry was thinking about Tom again. They hadn't had time to speak at all since being in Harry's flat a few hours ago, but Harry was quite glad of this fact. He needed some time to think about everything. He didn't want to leave Tom, and he wasn't planning to on any level, but he wondered whether he could believe his lover when he promised never to harm another Muggle again. Had Harry changed Tom in some slight way, if he was being honest in this promise? Could Harry perhaps change Tom even more now? Was Tom so much in love with him that he'd finally sacrifice some things for Harry?

This made Harry wonder if he had tried hard enough to change Tom. Maybe it was his fault that they had ended up doing the same things Tom would have done without him anyway. Here they were, preparing weapons for mass destruction… Yet if Tom was lying, and Harry had changed nothing, it would be worse than Harry having not done enough. If Tom broke his promise, it would mean he didn't care enough about Harry to compromise anything…

A voice interrupted Harry's thoughts. Quentin Pyrites had walked right up to him, to stand in his view. He was a good three inches shorter than Harry.

"I want to ask you something," Quentin said.

"And what might that be?" Harry asked indifferently.

"How is it that you gained Tom's respect when you joined the school so much later than all of us?" Quentin demanded.

Harry was unsure why Quentin cared about this and why he was being so blunt. "You yourself left the school a few years earlier than Tom, I heard."

"That doesn't matter," Quentin said. "I knew him since he began this group. So why is it that you get a more important job than me?"

"Maybe it was a matter of temperament," Harry joked. "Or maybe Tom likes me better because I arrived at the school so late. Do you think he was testing my loyalty?"

"Very funny," Quentin scowled, noticing Harry's mocking tone. "But from what I hear, you can't even handle the Dark Arts, and I don't believe you're as good as they say."

"Don't you?" Harry asked more quietly. He was beginning to get annoyed, but he tried not to show it.

"Why else would you be here, looking after us all?" Quentin asked. "We don't need to be looked after. We're the ones looking after everyone else."

"Which makes my job all the more important," Harry said through nearly gritted teeth. As he read Quentin's mind, he began wondering if the older Death Eater was trying to wind him up on purpose. The other Death Eaters around seemed to be pretending they weren't listening, perhaps because they felt uncomfortable with this conversation.

"From what they say, you didn't get enough training in the Dark Arts to understand what we have to go through," Quentin said. "You don't know half the magic the rest of us know."

Harry stared down at Quentin for a long time, trying to gain control of the anger that was tearing through him. This was a very bad time for him to be confronted by annoying, naïve Death Eaters who had bad tempters because they didn't get the respect they wrongly felt they deserved. But Harry wasn't going to give Quentin the reaction he doubtlessly wanted – a fight. He instead continued talking.

"Do you really think," Harry began in a cold, deadly tone, "That Tom would have kept me by his side these last two years if he didn't know that I had already been through what he expects all of us to go through? Do you really think he wouldn't have continued teaching me things after Hogwarts, things he was unable to pass onto any of his slow followers, if he felt I was too weak to take the Dark Arts?"

Quentin stared up at Harry, apparently taken aback by his reaction. Harry didn't break eye contact from Quentin until he blinked a few times, and cleared his throat. "Of course, that would make sense…" Quentin muttered, evidently fearing Harry somewhat. "I'm sure your right, Jonathan."

Harry turned away from Pyrites, and the group of staring Death Eaters. "We should all be preparing for the capture," Harry said, still furious, and trying to hide it. But his annoyance got the better of him as he began walking. "And my name isn't Jonathan," he snapped, too angry to care about sharing this truth. The Death Eaters followed him, to get closer to the general area of the Dragons.

"Yes it is," Nott said from behind Harry.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Your name is Jonathan," Nott repeated. "Unless… did you lie about that?"

Harry didn't answer. Now that he thought of it, he couldn't believe the Death Eaters hadn't worked this out sooner. He decided not to answer Nott's question as they carefully navigated their way towards the Dragons.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Lestrange mumbled.

They continued walking for a minute, none of the Death Eaters daring to ask why Harry had lied about his name for over three solid years. It seemed to make them more frightened of him, somehow.

"They're going to begin capturing the Dragons any minute," Harry reminded them all, for a change of topic. "Be prepared."

"Anything for you," Quentin mocked quietly.

–X–

They succeeded in moving the Dragons across Albania without much trouble, and by the time a month and a half had passed, Harry, Tom, and the Death Eaters had all managed to move close to the land where the Dragons were being kept. Many of the Death Eaters had to leave for England again after helping transport the magical creatures for Tom, for they had jobs to get back to, and families to see, but Tom didn't need most of his followers for the remainder of training his Dragons anyway. Around ten Death Eaters stayed in Albania, to help Tom keep the Dragons under control when he wanted to research things about them.

The land they had bought was large and very far away from any villages or houses. Tom had worked for weeks to create a magical barrier around the place, which repelled Muggles and Wizards, and made the place untraceable by any Ministry, even if the Ministries wouldn't search their land anyway. Harry knew that Tom didn't trust his Death Eaters fully with keeping the secret of their experimental magic on Dragons, as loyal as the Death Eaters might be, so he had been sure to hide the Dragons well, giving the illusion that the land was only being used for a single home, where Tom actually lived now.

Harry had moved into a separate house from Tom, still close enough so they could walk to each other in a matter of minutes, as they could with all the buildings on this land. The Death Eaters who had stayed with Tom lived in two large buildings mostly, if they preferred this to staying at an inn in a village tens of miles away. Harry was quite glad to have his own house, despite what he had said to Tom about this a few months ago. He still wasn't sure what he felt about Tom, even though over a month had passed since he killed that Muggle tramp…

The Dragons weren't kept in cages, and weren't attached to the ground in a way that would prevent them form flying. They were instead perfectly able to wander around – if it was that they didn't pass the barriers Tom had constructed, to keep them away from buildings and people. Tom would change these barriers to separate the Dragons when he wanted to, and he would keep them in smaller spaces when he trained them, but otherwise they were quite free… as annoyed as they might be with their new living conditions.

It was an uneventful evening when Harry, Tom, and many of the Death Eaters gathered in Tom's house, sitting around the long table that Tom had put in his living room for this exact company. Avery, Gonson, Pyrites, Nott, Macnair, and Ransome were amongst those who had stayed behind to continue helping Tom, mostly because none of them had jobs, and they could live off of the money of their families without much care. They were also all dedicated Death Eaters, who would happily waste a year or two with joining Tom is raising Dragons, before learning how to support themselves and create their own lives… or the lives Tom wanted them to have.

Harry was sitting two seats away from Tom, much to the delight of Quentin, who sat between them, thinking himself closer to Tom, today, with all the help he had been in controlling Dragons. Avery sat across from Harry, reading The Daily Prophet, and the rest of the Death Eaters who sat close to the head of the table, where Tom was, were conversing, sharing stories and asking Tom questions whenever they felt like it. Harry, however, was lost in thought. He was bored of conversation, and bored of being somewhat left out of the most dangerous work Tom was doing at the moment…

Despite having talked with Tom the day after the murder of the Muggle tramp, Harry couldn't exactly say they had gone back to the way they used to be. They would often converse, but Harry felt their conversations were strained. They were spending less time with each other, thus spending nights together less often, and though Harry blamed in on the amount of work they had to do, this didn't make him feel any better about it. He still loved Tom, and he never doubted it for a minute… but there were times when he was repulsed by Tom, and by what he did. The sight of that Muggle tortured had haunted Harry almost every night since seeing it…

It wasn't long after reflecting on these thoughts when Harry was distracted by his surroundings again. He never seemed to have time to think about him and Tom properly. Avery, who still held the English newspaper in his hands, has just begun speaking to the room at large.

"Ha, some Muggle in Bournemouth was killed last night," Avery informed them all, "As well as two in Leicester a few days ago, and another one in Bristol…"

"How bad were the murders?" Macnair asked from Harry's side.

"Not that bad," Avery replied indifferently. "The usual, really. Brutal murder, some Muggle finds the bodies, the Muggle Police are confused, and the Ministry steps in… No one was caught, of course."

"Were they Wizard attacks?" Harry suddenly asked.

"Yup," Avery confirmed. "They always are, when they make it to the Prophet."

Harry paused, a little confused. "So, attacks against Muggles are still happening?"

"Well, they wouldn't exactly stop randomly, would they?" Avery asked, careful to keep his tone lighthearted for Harry.

"What I mean is, they still haven't caught the people behind all of this?"

"No, the Ministry's caught quite a few people," Avery said distractedly, as he glanced down at the paper. "The English Ministry as well as some European ones. There are just too many Muggle haters out there, though. I'm glad they're proud enough to show their beliefs…"

"When did they start up again?" Harry asked. "I was working in the Crime Department of the Daily Prophet after… after Hogwarts, as you know. The crime stopped at around December or January, well over a year ago."

"It started up again 'round January this year," Avery said. "Maybe earlier…"

Harry's eyes flickered to the head of the table. Tom was watching the conversation carefully. Behind his otherwise impassive countenance, Harry could see signs of confusion that he felt reflected his own. The attacks on Muggles were supposed to have subsided with the fall of Grindelwald… Harry watched Tom's eyes move away from his. Quentin was staring at Harry and this had caught Tom's interest. Harry had no time to look back at the Death Eater he disliked most of all, however, as he returned to Avery.

"Are the attacks worse than they used to be?" he asked in what he hoped was a somewhat indifferent tone. He felt nerves build within him, causing his heart to beat more quickly.

"Way worse!" Avery exclaimed. "It's a shame you don't read the papers anymore. It's brilliant, reading some of the murder stories in there… There are usually about five killings a day. Here, I'll give you this one to read."

Avery slid the Daily Prophet across the table before Harry could refuse it. Harry began looking down at it, but no sooner had he turned the first page, Quentin spoke to him.

"Why do you care so much about this?" Quentin asked sharply.

"I don't," Harry responded. "I'm just curious about these murders…"

"Why would you be?" Quentin demanded. "You shouldn't care about Muggles any more than we do. Why do you seem anxious that they're being attacked? Don't tell you're a Mudblood."

"I'm a pureblood," Harry assured Quentin. "I worked for the Prophet for over a year – why wouldn't I be interested in this?"

Quentin didn't respond immediately. He continued staring while Harry flicked through the pages of the Daily Prophet, trying to find the worst crime stories within it. When Quentin spoke again, his tone was more calculating than before. "Why have you been using fake names since Hogwarts?"

Harry did not respond immediately. Although he knew that Tom had likely learnt this piece of information via the minds of the Death Eaters, he did not quite like the idea of Tom getting annoyed that Quentin now had the excuse to enquire things about his, Harry's, past.

"That's none of your business," Harry said coldly, hoping this would end Quentin's questions. The Death Eaters around the table were listening more closely than before. No one had dared ask Harry this question yet…

"What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything," Harry stated. He stared down at the paper, trying to appear unconcerned as many eyes rested upon him. He decided to joke, "I've just always hated my real name, obviously…"

"Then what are you hiding from?"

Harry's heart was beating sickeningly. "Why would I be hiding from anything?"

Harry could tell Tom was watching him. He was likely just as cautious as Harry was with all of these questions being asked.

Quentin thought about Harry's words, hesitating for what felt like a long time before he spoke again, taking a new approach to try and catch Harry off guard.

"Then you must be hiding from someone, if you aren't hiding from something," his voice was lower now. He appeared awed at the prospect of figuring Harry out. "Maybe it isn't the Muggles dying that you care about… maybe it's the people behind it who scar–"

"If you don't stop talking so much ignorant nonsense in my house, Pyrites, I shall have no choice but to throw you out," Tom interrupted, a hint of anger within his quiet voice. "Stop overanalyzing the secrets of Jonathan and get on with what you are here to do – contemplate your job."

Quentin turned to face Tom for a second, visibly irritated that he had been interrupted. He then glanced back at Harry, almost glaring at him with an expression of shock and disbelief. He looked away before Harry could read his thoughts and stared at the table in front of him while he tried to overcome his exasperation. Everyone watched him for a moment, before he said, "Of course, Tom. Forgive me…"

"But it's getting late, anyway," Tom said, while he watched Quentin stare at the table for a few more seconds, "So I should throw you all out now, I believe."

The Death Eaters began to leave with no protest. They apparently sensed that Tom didn't want to be asked any more questions. They were eager to leave Tom's house so they could go and talk about what had happened in the safety of their own rooms. Quentin was one of the first people to leave, making his way back to the building he stayed in as quickly as he could.

"I must ask you to stay for a while, Jonathan," Tom said the moment Harry stood up.

The remaining Death Eaters cast Harry and Tom quick glances, before filing out of the room in silence. Their thoughts were buzzing. When Harry and Tom heard the last of the Death Eaters leave and close the front door, Tom stood up. He cast a spell to close all the curtains in sight. A silence fell, with Harry and Tom both gazing at each other. Then Tom broke it.

"How long as Quentin been asking you such curious questions?"

"Since the day I met him," Harry replied. "You were there. He just wanted to know more about me then, I think… From what I read in his mind on the day we moved the Dragons, he only started our second conversation – which turned into an argument – because he wanted to have a fight with me. I think he thought you would respect him if he won."

"He would have been sadly mistaken to try and gain my respect that way, even if he could have won," Tom said, smiling slightly. But his smile soon disappeared. "Yet I fear he only asks you so much because he is suspicious."

"Suspicious of what?"

"Of you being involved with Grindelwald," Tom voiced. "He knows now that you are seeking revenge on someone, searching for them through newspapers because you want to find them for having killed your parents. He knows that you are unable to kill whomever you are searching for, that you are waiting for them to be less protected by a government because it would be too obvious if you got to them now… That, for a few minutes of conversation, was a lot of information to give away."

"Well, I didn't know he was going to end up so interested my life," Harry said defensively. He was slightly embarrassed when Tom pointed out all of his mistakes so easily.

"I don't blame you for telling him some of the truth," Tom remarked, "I'm just trying to explain how much he might be suspecting you of running away from Grindelwald. With what he guessed about you fearing the people behind the Muggle killings… I just hope he's not involved with any of Grindelwald's remaining followers."

"There probably aren't many followers left," Harry reasoned. "Grindelwald is as good as dead."

"Perhaps as good as, but not completely," Tom pointed out. "There might still be people who are following in his footsteps… Don't you remember what Grindelwald said to Dumbledore about it not mattering whether he was in prison or not? About how he believed his people would continue doing everything he wanted them to even if he were to die?"

"Those were just empty threats," Harry said unconfidently, "to scare Dumbledore."

"But what if they weren't?" Tom inquired. "What if there were still tens – even hundreds – of people following Grindelwald? What if they were still trying to revolt against the British Ministry and so on by murdering Muggles?"

"Why would they care about me?" Harry asked. "No one knows who I am. No one would care about a single escapee from Grindelwald who's moving on with their life."

"But Quentin might care," Tom said, "He already dislikes you and he would likely do something such as report you to Grindelwald's people, if he knew them."

"If he knew them," Harry repeated.

"Could you read his mind at all, when he was asking you all these questions?" Tom asked, ignoring Harry's comment.

Harry thought back to a few minutes ago. The honest answer to this question would be no, he hadn't managed to read Quentin's mind… but what did that matter? He didn't want to scare Tom. "We would know by now if he was involved with Grindelwald's order," Harry assured Tom.

"I don't know where he's been these last few years," Tom stated. "It's possible that he could have gotten involved with all of that…"

"I really don't think anything will happen because of this," Harry said, believing his own words completely. "We'll just watch Quentin over the next week and see what he's up to. It's not like he'll do anything immediately, even if he suspects me of being a part of Grindelwald's downfall or something."

Tom thought about this for a moment, appearing bothered by the whole situation. "Do you really believe nothing will happen with Grindelwald again?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I'm sure it will be fine. There's no need to worry about it, anyway."

Tom paused, before slowly nodding. "I'll try to worry as little as I can… but I want you to be careful. Don't tell Quentin any important things about yourself, if you can help it."

"I won't even speak to him again," Harry said. "I hate him a lot already… He makes the others seem very tolerable."

Tom smiled softly. "I never thought I'd hear you refer to our friends as 'very tolerable'."

"In comparison to Quentin," Harry corrected, returning Tom's smile. "Though I could also say that Quentin makes training Dragons seem like the least stressful thing in the word, in comparison. It's not actually saying much."

Tom's smile broadened. "I could always ask him to leave, if you truly hate him," he offered.

"I'm not sure whether I'd want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I complained to you, and you threw him out because of it."

"I wouldn't let him know you asked me to do it," Tom said. "Quentin would understand how much power you have over me then, and would tell the others about it…"

"He'd know I was involved no matter what, if you threw him out."

"He'd guess," Tom corrected. "He'd never really know for sure."

"But I don't really care if he's around or not," Harry said, unsure why he wasn't agreeing to just throw Quentin out. "He's a useful Wizard."

"Not if he puts you at risk, in some way."

"Which we've decided he doesn't."

Tom gazed at Harry. "Of course," he said, before adding, "But you know I like to be sure."

"You will be," Harry guaranteed, smiling, "Once a few months pass, and he's done nothing."

Tom smiled softly again too, and took a step forwards to stand in front of Harry. He reached up a hand to touch Harry's face. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you," Tom said quietly, running his fingers along Harry's jaw slowly.

"I know," Harry smiled back, enjoying Tom's touch. Harry found that he cared less about what Tom had done, now that his annoyance for Quentin was the main thought on his mind – past now nice Tom's fingers felt against his skin right now…

"I'd do anything for you, to keep you safe from harm," Tom said softly, appearing to think about how much he meant these words, as he gazed down at Harry. His eyes were thoughtful, his touch gentle.

"I'd do the same for you," Harry said equally as quietly, feeling Tom's fingers slide along his neck slowly. He was happy to know that Tom felt so much need to protect him…

Tom was moving closer to Harry, hovering close enough for Harry to feel his breath against his lips. They kissed. It was only with slow, careful movements that they touched each other at first, memories of the recent past coming to mind vaguely. But Harry's anger towards Tom for having killed that Muggle was fading. Before Harry knew it their kiss was deepening, their lips pressing together passionately while their breath becoming rough.

Harry felt Tom move away from this lips to kiss along Harry's jaw, to his ear. Their bodies pressing closer and Harry couldn't help but relish in the desire he felt for Tom.

"I love you," Tom whispered when he was close to Harry's ear. He kissed him over and over again, his lips travelling down Harry's neck, as his hands gripped Harry passionately.

"I love you too…" Harry breathed.