"Hello, Harry."

Harry spun around at the sound of his name. Having been previously distracted while he observed the large array of ornaments, objects, and antiques that surrounded him, he had neither seen nor heard Riddle arrive. The antiques were thoughtlessly piled upon innumerable tables, desks and general surfaces, but what drew Harry's attention to them was not their value nor their charm, but rather their complete and utter detail…

"Hello," Harry responded.

He was still drawn to the objects around him, despite the fact that Riddle arriving here should really interest him more, he thought. Although he had only ever seen Hepzibah Smith's house in the memory that Dumbledore had showed him in the past, Harry could tell that this was not real life as he examined the room now. There was still that slight notion that something, somehow, was a little off. The house was too empty, too silent, and too calm to be anything more than yet another very vivid dream…

"Why'd you bring me here?" Harry asked, the idea bothering him too much for him to resist asking.

Tom, who was standing near him now due to having made his way slowly across the room with skill and ease, reacted to this question with gentle surprise. "I thought you didn't mind visiting me occasionally?"

"I'd prefer it if I had the choice."

"You had a choice, in a sense," Riddle reasoned quietly. "You merely needed someone to talk to again… Shall we sit?"

"I have friends for when I want to talk to someone," Harry said, taking an armchair opposite Riddle after a pause. It was the same chair that Hepzibah had sat in during the memory Harry had seen. "I don't see why you wanted to drag me all the way here just to talk to you."

"I assure you, it's as much your choice as anything."

Harry didn't know what to make of this claim. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Tom, however, didn't leave him much room to dwell upon it.

"I was planning on bringing you here earlier," Tom said calmly, "though my desire to do so was thwarted somewhat by a prior conflict…"

Tom sat formally in his chair, quiet now as he allowed these words to settle in. Clasping his hands upon his lap, he was paying Harry his full attention.

"Now, I wonder… why is it that a sixth year student would stay up so late on a Monday night that they would be almost completely unable to attend school the following morning? You wouldn't have had much homework, so there was no need to stay up for that…"

Harry didn't know what he was supposed to say to this. He shifted in his seat, stalling for time. "Sixth years always end up staying up late, don't they?"

"Some do, I suppose," Tom agreed slowly, "yet I do believe that staying up until three or four in the morning is quite unusual for a student to do when there is neither work nor a celebration to dedicate oneself to."

"I suppose…"

Tom seemed to see something in his lack of verbal response. "Is there anything bothering you?"

"No, not really."

"Then why have you been staying up?"

"I dunno," Harry said, feeling uncomfortable as he wondered whether Tom knew the answer to this anyway. "I've just had a lot to think about lately, I suppose."

Tom continued watching Harry, impassive. "Which is understandable…"

A silence fell. Harry was confused by it.

"Is that it?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you going to keep asking me questions?"

Tom tilted his head to the side slightly. "Do you wish for me to?"

"No," Harry admitted, "but I don't see why else you'd force me to be here."

"I've said it before, Harry: you are free to go whenever you wish."

Harry was reminded again about how similar to a therapist Tom seemed to act during these so-called 'meetings'. He wondered whether Tom meant to seem this way, whether he took pride in thinking of himself as Harry's adviser, or whether he was completely unaware about the way he was acting.

"Why am I even here?" Harry's voice was sharp yet weary.

"Again, Harry, you needed someone to talk to."

Harry's jaw clenched. For the second time tonight, he said forcefully, "I have friends for that, thanks."

Tom remained mute while he thought about this. It was as though Harry's actions had given away something he found curious. His voice was quiet when he spoke again.

"Do you?"

Harry stared at Riddle steadily, bemused. Of course he had his friends – he had always had them to talk to. Even if they were a little more distant now, it was only because there were so many things going on at once in and out of Hogwarts. Harry didn't know whether to hold onto his anger or to let it go while he contemplated what Tom was implying… somehow, he sort of had a point…

"I do have them," said Harry firmly. He felt as though he was saying this to himself as much as to Tom.

"You're there for your friends, sure," Tom voiced after little hesitation, "when they're fighting with each other or worrying about mundane things such as Quidditch, or relationships, or a test that will have no affect upon later school results anyway… but are they there for you when you have a difficult, unexplainable, deeply worrying problem?"

Harry was nervous now. "I don't know why you're saying this."

"I'm saying it because it is true."

"They're my best friends," Harry reasoned.

"Which is hardly a consolation," Tom added.

Harry fell silent. He was now far from annoyed. Harry couldn't help but agree with Tom in some sickening way, but he would barely admit it even to himself… It wasn't as though Ron and Hermione should really care that Harry was just having particularly vivid dreams, after all. Even the fact that that Harry suspected Malfoy was a Death Eater while Ron and Hermione wouldn't hear a word of it was excusable, surely…

"I don't mean this to offend you," Tom mentioned eventually.

Harry wondered whether something in his expression had given him away. He said nothing.

"You can talk to me, you know," Tom told him.

"I'll keep that in mind…"

"It might make you feel better."

Harry doubted that, somehow. "Right…"

Another moment passed without speech. Harry realised in that time that it could be hours until he was finally away from Tom. He didn't have any power over these dreams, which would mean that Tom could wait patiently to get the information he desired. Harry decided to keep on talking.

"I don't see why these dre-… meetings have to planned by you."

A smile crept upon Tom's lips, slowly, carefully.

"If you wish to initiate such meetings," he said, "I'd be more than happy to allow you to do so. Assuming, of course, that you understand the magic involved…"

"That's not what I meant," Harry said.

"Whatever did you mean, then?"

"I meant I don't understand how you know when I need someone to talk to."

"Well, it's obvious," Tom said, "by seeing the way your friends act, anyone would feel isolated in your position."

"Why don't you try and speak to me every night then?"

"I know you wouldn't wish to be bothered by me so much. I understood this when you started sleeping less…"

Although this sounded rather considerate, Harry wasn't completely convinced. If Tom wanted to be polite he could have just stopped these meetings entirely, leaving Harry to sleep decently again, so he could stop wondering what all of this meant.

"You still could have sent an invitation," Harry joked.

Tom frowned. "Has it not occurred to you that I might wish to speak to you, instead?"

The true answer to this was no, Harry hadn't thought of that… "Why would you want to speak to me?" he asked instead. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have any friend problems to talk about."

"No friend problems, no." Tom smiled mechanically. "Though there is much that I wish to speak to you about."

"Like what?"

"Ah, but I don't feel as though the time is right for talking about my problems."

"Right…"

"First," Tom continued, unfazed by Harry's reaction to his previous words, "we should sort out what it is that's wrong with your friendship."

"There's nothing wrong with my friendship," Harry said defensively. "Ron, Hermione and I have been friends for years now. They just don't understand this – yet."

"So you will explain it to them?" Tom inquired, mildly surprised.

"Yeah, I will."

"You'll explain the things that I have said to you?"

"Of course, yeah."

"You'll explain what I said about having been around you throughout your entire childhood and current adolescence?"

"If that comes up, then yes."

"And what I said about having helped you? About us sharing magic?"

"Yeah…"

"You'll explain to them," Tom continued in a softer voice, "that I kissed your hand?"

Harry stopped at this. This was the first time Tom had mentioned his actions in the 'dream' of Number 12, Grimmauld Place and Harry wasn't sure if he really wanted to talk about it. He bit his lips…

"They would think you mad if you told them about me," Tom voiced.

"They're my friends," Harry said again, warily, "they'd understand."

"Ask them and see."

This remark annoyed Harry, somehow. "I will. They'll be able to–"

"Potter!"

Harry eyes flew open. Someone was pushing his shoulder to awaken him and he realised after a moment of confusion that it was Ron, who was sitting besides him. Both Ron and Hermione were casting him very worried warning looks. He sat up straighter in his chair.

Snape was standing right in front of his desk.

"Well, well," Snape began irritably when Harry met his dark, narrowed eyes, "it would appear as though Potter considers himself above learning Defence Against the Dark Arts…"

"Sir, I only–"

"Tell me, has your imperishable sense of self-worth, triggered by the title of 'The Chosen One', blinded you greatly that you no longer feel a need to learn how to defend yourself against the vast power of the Dark Arts, Potter?"

"No, sir, I just–"

"Because if not," Snape said in a slightly louder voice, "and if you wish to stand a chance defending yourself even against the weakest of wizards, you would be well-advised to stay awake, during my class."

Harry clenched his jaw shut, not trusting himself to say a word at this. He refused to break eye contact even while Snape's lip curled in annoyance.

"Detention," Snape spat, "Saturday evening, my office. A few hours away from needless distraction ought to remind you, Potter, of the importance of time. Pray you won't fall further behind on your studies."

Snape turned away sharply at this. This wasn't the worst lecture that Harry had endured from the Professor, but he still didn't much appreciate the idea that he would be put into detention yet again. He was surprised, however, that Snape hadn't taken this chance to take more House Points away from Gryffindor. Harry felt as though he should consider himself lucky…

For the rest of the lesson he attempted to look as awake as he could while he battled with his exasperation, ignoring the reproachful glances from Hermione, as well as the awkward glances from Ron. To him, the class couldn't end fast enough.

"I can't believe you would do such a thing!" Hermione hissed at him the moment they stepped out of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "During Snape's lesson, moreover!"

"It's not my fault," Harry said defensively, not caring that this was partially a lie. "With all the homework that's been assigned–"

"You told me you finished your homework on time!" Hermione reminded him furiously. "You could have asked me for help if you needed it, Harry – even Ron doesn't end up falling asleep during classes!"

"What?" Ron squawked.

"Well it won't happen again," Harry stated, while both he and Hermione ignored the offended Ron. "I'll have enough lecturing from Snape already, won't you just drop it?"

She glared at him, outraged. "I'm trying to help you!"

"Well I don't want your help," Harry told her. "If all you're going to do is yell at me for doing something I couldn't help doing, I don't want your advice, Hermione."

"Fine!" she exclaimed, flushed somewhat while she glowered at Harry. Her eyes were shining. "God forbid I try and help you!"

Seeing her look of indignation suddenly triggered guilt in Harry. She turned to go.

"Hermione, wait–"

But she was already gone. Harry watched her disappearing off into a crowd, feeling bad while he reflected that she had only lectured him because she was scared for him, probably. It didn't help that they hadn't been talking very much lately.

Ron stood by Harry awkwardly, his hands in his pockets while his eyes searched for the lost Hermione in the flood of students before them. Harry could tell he was in half a mind to follow her, despite the fact she had partially insulted him.

"You need some more sleep, mate," was the first thing Ron said.

Harry shifted where he stood, agitated now. He wanted to tell Ron that he felt bad for shouting at Hermione, but he couldn't bring himself to speak those words. He was annoyed with himself, uncomfortable, and tired. He took a deep breath to try and sooth himself.

"Lets get going," he said in a low voice. "The last thing I need today is to miss more lessons…"

–X–

The following night was rather uncomfortable. Hermione was avoiding Harry and had decided to spend most of the evening in the girls' dormitory. Ron had decided to stick with Harry after all, but Harry knew this was likely only because Ron didn't want to listen to Hermione rant anymore. She had spent a lot of time before this wondering aloud about why Harry was so distant, so it was only to be assumed that Harry arguing with her would start a whole series of new complains and worries.

Harry couldn't help but reflect that he probably wasn't much better company, however. He sat in near silence while he did his homework, only talking to Ron a few times in failed attempts to start light conversation throughout the evening. Ron sighed and yawned more than he spoke, so that night Harry decided to go to bed very early, saying he wanted to catch up on some sleep.

Wednesday night was even worse. Hermione had decided to sit with Harry and Ron again while they did their homework, but although she offered to help Harry with his studies, she barely said a word to him that didn't have an edge of spite and disapproval to it. Harry wasn't really sure why she had decided to join the two of them at all.

It was after finishing all his homework for the night when Harry sat uncomfortably in his usual seat in the Common Room, suddenly wishing he had something else to do. He knew this was a good time to begin talking to Ron and Hermione about some of the things that were bothering him, but he simply didn't know where to begin. Eventually, however, he found that he didn't need to bring up the subject bluntly.

"Promise me you'll go to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight, won't you?" Hermione asked of him.

"I'll try," Harry answered. His voice was somewhat monotonic.

"Do you promise?"

"I can't promise you that I'll be able to fall asleep, Hermione," Harry responded, thinking this was obvious, "but I'll try."

"You can't keep falling asleep in class like that," Hermione reminded him firmly.

"I'm not going to," Harry said, "I just had one bad night of sleep, alright?"

"No, it's not alright!" she said irritably. "You can't let something like that happen, Harry!"

Harry looked away from her, trying very hard to overcome the annoyance that flooded though him at these words. He didn't understand why she didn't just drop it… "It won't happen again."

"Why were you even up so late on a Monday night? I know perfectly well you weren't busy doing homework."

This was Harry's chance to bring the conversation to the topic of those 'dreams', he knew. Somehow, however, knowing this didn't make it much easier. "I – I was just worried about something…"

His tone struck interest in Hermione, but it still wasn't enough to completely override her previous disapproval. "What were you worried about?"

"Was it something to do with Malfoy?" asked Ron. "I saw you looking at the Marauder's Map again."

"No, nothing's changed with Malfoy," Harry admitted, "not since Dobby and Kreacher told us about the Room of Requirement."

"Did you have another odd dream, then?" Hermione asked.

"To be honest… yeah," Harry admitted slowly. "Yeah, it is about those dreams."

Hermione looked as though she wanted so sigh and remind Harry that it wasn't anything to worry about, but this time she stopped herself. Sitting up a little straighter, she asked wearily, "What happened this time?"

"Well," Harry began nervously, worried she wouldn't understand, "nothing ever really happens, to be honest. It's mostly just conversation in a different place each time… The dream I had on Monday night was in the Riddle House. Except, it wasn't like I had seen it ever before… It looked a bit more neglected, like it might look right now."

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"I don't know," Harry said in a rush, "where we were wasn't important, anyway… It was just the same as the other dreams. It was – it was like I was actually there, I don't know how else to explain it. I know I can't have been and I know it wasn't a vision, but… I can't help but feel it was real."

Hermione was looking at him blankly.

"But anyway, what we were talking about was the important part."

"And what where you talking about?"

Harry was about to speak, but he stopped himself. What was he supposed to say? That Riddle said he had been around Harry for his entire life, and Harry believed it? That he knew the dreams meant something more, or that he sensed they weren't dreams at all? That he was telling Tom Riddle about himself when he still wasn't sure whether he even should?

"Well?" Hermione pressed.

Harry had to say something. He wasn't going to prove Riddle right by being unable to talk to his friends. He wasn't going to just sit here in silence when Ron and Hermione needed to know why he was acting so strangely. Even if Harry couldn't tell them everything, he forced himself to say something, at least.

"It's all sort of… sort of a bit creepy," he began. "The things Riddle says don't make sense and he never explains anything properly, but what he explains sort of… fits sometimes… I don't know, I can't explain it. I can't leave the 'dreams' even when I want to. He's the one who starts them and he won't let me go, he just tells me all these mad things, thinking I'll believe it."

"You're talking like Riddle's a real person," said Ron, bemused.

Hermione glanced at him briefly.

"I didn't mean it to sound that way," Harry said quickly.

"None of that explains why you spend so much time talking and worrying about these dreams," Hermione observed. "Quite honestly, I don't know what you mean by it all."

"I don't mean anything by it," said Harry, confused. "I just don't know why it keeps happening. The dreams are all connected – it's like he actually remembers the other meetings, like he knows what's been happening in my life, and he–"

"But they're just dreams!" Hermione exclaimed, finally losing patience. Harry wondered whether his words had scared her, somehow. "You can't fall behind on your work and become so wrapped up in your own mind because of this. It's completely senseless!"

"You don't understand, these aren't just normal d–"

"You're wasting time with this, Harry," said Hermione seriously. "You should just put it out of your mind."

Harry's heart sunk. She was completely unable and unwilling to understand what he was saying. He hadn't even told her anything bad, but here she was now, visibly believing that he was insane, delusional, and wasting time. "They would think you mad if you told them about me," Tom had predicted…

"Hermione's sort of right you know," Ron said slowly, "it seems a bit useless to worry about this."

Hermione turned to Ron, satisfied. "Thank you, Ronald."

Harry said nothing, while he watched Ron smiled a little at Hermione.

Harry knew that Ron had probably only said this to please Hermione, but that didn't make it much easier to hear. It made Harry think about how much Hermione and Ron already liked each other. Although he didn't fancy Hermione (nor Ron, for that matter), it saddened Harry to reflect that his friends would probably end up dating each other soon. If they did, he knew they were going to get sick of him. They wouldn't have any time for him, especially if he worried about things like Riddle, which they couldn't seem to understand…

"It'd be best to stop thinking about these dreams so much," Hermione said, as if Ron agreeing with her had concluded the matter.

"Right," Harry said numbly, not caring to disagree by this point. If Hermione had expected him to object, she was solely wrong. Harry was no longer angry…

"That's that sorted then," said Ron, sounding content.

Harry stood up. He understood, then, that he shouldn't be here anymore.

"Well," he said tonelessly, "I think I'm going to go to bed now."

He ignored their looks of confusion. They said goodnight. Ron decided to stay in the Common Room with Hermione, which left Harry on his own. In the dormitory, Harry sat on his bed for a while, staring into space. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel. All he really knew was that Ron and Hermione were wrong about this being nothing. No matter how much he tried to think of it in a different light, Harry knew it was something more than a dream. He just didn't know how, or why…

Eventually Harry found the energy to get changed. He ended up lying in bed for a long while, just thinking, until he finally closed his eyes properly…

The Gaunt House was cold and dirtier than ever before. Harry stood shivering, his arms folded tightly in front of him while he examined the place, looking past the cloud of vapour that emitted from his mouth every time he exhaled. The place was different than in the Pensieve only because a door leading off of the main room stood wide open, its lock and handle charred as if it had been cursed. Nothing but darkness could be seen beyond the doorframe.

The only light in the room was coming from an old, rusty lantern that Tom was holding. While he stood to the side of the room, facing Harry, the lantern cast long shadows with its flickering yellow light. This did nothing to stop the house feeling shadowy, grimy, and abandoned. Harry couldn't imagine why Tom would bring him to such a dreary place.

"From your air of forlornness," Tom began in a soft voice, "I assume it didn't go well with your friends?"

Harry wondered if his expression or his lack of talking had given this away. He didn't know how he was supposed to tell Riddle that it had all gone wrong. The house was perfectly still; the only noise that could be heard beyond the sound of Harry's breath was howling of the harsh winds outside, which pressed against the small, cracked windows.

"They… they just don't get it."

Tom watched him for a time. His tone was carefully chosen when he told Harry, "I suspected they might not understand."

"I don't see why they wouldn't," said Harry. "They're treating me like I'm just making this all up…"

"Perhaps they're merely confused?"

"How would they be?"

"Well, it really depends upon how much you told them. With too much information to take in, they could easily get confused about what to think."

"I didn't tell them too much," Harry responded. He found himself slightly annoyed while he realised Tom was trying to get information out of him slyly. "I'm not stupid, I wouldn't tell them everything at once."

"I didn't mean to imply you acted foolishly," Tom said, "I was merely suggesting what might have gone wrong. If it wasn't that, there must be another reason."

"Like what?"

"Perhaps they believe you to be a liar?"

"Why would they think that? I don't have any reason to lie. Plus, they've always believed me in the past, no matter how mad I must have sounded with some of the things I told them."

"Perhaps they no longer trust your judgement?" Tom suggested. "Perhaps they don't believe you are lying, but instead they believe you are mistaken?"

This made sense… No matter how much Harry didn't like to hear it, it fitted. Though if this was what Ron and Hermione really felt, by extent they probably thought Harry was going mad. No matter what he said to them now, if they didn't trust his judgement they were never going to believe him… Harry had to make sure first.

"Why would they stop trusting my judgement?"

"Hmm, there could quite be a few reasons," Tom said softly, the sight of contemplation soft upon his fine features. "A particular event could have happened in the recent past; an event that caused your friends to suddenly wonder, in theory, if stress had become too much for you… For example, they could have been a little too alarmed by you suspecting an enemy at Hogwarts of being a young Death Eater…"

These words took Harry by surprise. This was the first time Tom had ever indicated that he knew about the more recent events in Harry's life, even if he had suggested before that he had seen a large percentage of Harry's childhood. Somehow, Harry was a little relieved by this. He would have a second opinion upon the events in his life without having to explain all the details from scratch…

"You know about Malfoy, then?"

Tom inclined his head softly in agreement.

"Do you know anything new?" Harry pressed, the thought just striking him. "Do you know what he's up to?"

"I know nothing more than you do, Harry."

"But if you've been around me, like you were in my childhood, surely you could have followed Malfoy, to see what he's up to?"

"I was under the impression you had House-elves for that?"

"I do, but you would be better than them – you could use more magic to get to him."

Tom thought about this, considering it carefully. "It certainly is possible…"

"You'll do it, then?"

"I'll see what I can do."

Harry grinned. "Brilliant."

Tom watched his smile for a moment, as if he was again taking some sort of meaning from the simple reaction. "I do believe we are off subject, however," he commented.

Harry had to think back to what they were talking about. "But why would Ron and Hermione stop trusting me because I suspect Malfoy's a Death Eater?"

"As I said, this could be one of many reasons," Tom explained. "Another reason might be that they are alarmed by the idea my existence. They might be so alarmed, in fact, that they refuse to acknowledge nor encourage the idea of me, even if you are sure about it."

"Why would they be so scared of you, and these dreams?"

"Well, I thought the answer to that should be obvious…"

Harry shook his head. "You aren't Voldemort."

"I know," agreed Tom, "yet your friends can see it no other way, it seems."

Did this mean he could never tell Ron and Hermione about Riddle and so on, Harry wondered? Would he have to keep it entirely to himself, in the knowledge that they would only see it as something impossible, scary, or insane? Harry had always told them about everything that worried or confused him, so how was he now expected to just stop confiding in them?

"There has to be a way they'd understand," Harry said, believing his words were true. "They've always understood me in the past."

"Perhaps there is a way… yet it seems more likely that something has changed, now."

Harry had to admit that lot had changed in his sixth year at Hogwarts so far… but he wasn't quite willing to agree with Riddle completely.

"If I could just keep telling them about it, maybe they'd finally see there's really something different about this," Harry said instead. "Maybe they'd actually be willing to listen, and maybe they'd understand."

Then again, Harry thought, would they even want to hear it? If Tom was right in saying that they were denying the idea of these dreams meaning anything due to fear, they wouldn't be happy if Harry kept bringing it up again and again…

"That's a lot of 'maybe's," Tom observed.

"I know," Harry admitted, "but it's just…"

"Yes?"

"I just wish they'd listen."

Tom was silent. He watched Harry, his expression almost completely unreadable. Though Harry thought he read understanding in Tom, somehow.

"I just worry about if they care about each other too much…"

The fire from the lantern that Tom held flickered back and forth. "How would they?"

"Well, it's obvious that they fancy each other," Harry voiced, "Everyone suspects it. It's only a matter of time before they start dating. Before they start cutting me out…"

Tom thought about this. Then, slowly, he began taking smooth steps towards Harry. There was a considerable gap between them, with two chairs setting them apart. Tom evidently felt it would be wise to lessen this.

"They are no friends at all if they will neglect you for a love interest," Tom said softly, his eyes never leaving Harry even as he wandered towards him. "Despite how strongly they may claim that they crave each other, true devotion in friendship will never burn away, no matter how heated the flame of their love might be…"

Tom was closer to Harry now, only a few feet away…

"They already care about me less than they used to," said Harry, somewhat despondently. "If this is what they're like even before they're dating…"

"Then they are no friends of yours."

Tom had stopped. He stood rather close to Harry, gazing at him from a little under a foot away. He breathed evenly while he examined the wizard before him, viewing every feature upon Harry's face as though he were an interesting work of art. He smiled softly, before turning away.

"Goodnight, Harry."

Before Harry could say a word, Tom began walking out of the room. He was gone shortly, along with all of the light. In the darkness, Harry found himself drifting off to sleep within seconds, no longer standing in the House of Gaunt…

I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Sorry I'm still slow.

Also, I started my own Blog about Writing (if anyone cares ha-ha), at AbidingRomances 'dot' Blogspot 'dot' com.

( Like most people, I was delayed a further few days with this chapter due to this site acting weirdly, not allowing updates. I managed to find a solution now, however. )