12 – Sectumsempra

Sunlight glimmered off the surface of the lake, masking both the darkest depths and purest spots of shallow water. A soft breeze weakened the impact of the steadily setting sun while the scent of dry earth and new flowers filled the air. Almost no one else was outside to enjoy the dying day, to Harry's delight. Hogwarts stood proudly before him, but for the first time in memory, it felt sinister and disconnected to him. He wanted to be as alone as he could.

To clear his mind, he needed to be outside the castle walls, and with the amount of homework he had to finish off by tonight, he had the perfect excuse. A change had happened to his view of Hogwarts. Dumbledore was aware, surely, that the danger of Voldemort was drawing ever-nearer, but still, in spite of everything, he was giving up. He would give Harry up too, and Snape would guide him... to assist in the act, like he surely craved to do.

"This potion contains the spine of lionfish, not catfish," Tom pointed out calmly, looking over the Potions essay Harry was writing the last few lines of. "You wouldn't want to make such a mistake for Slughorn to see, for the Elixir would turn out very different indeed."

"Oh, right," Harry said, pulling away from his thoughts. "Sorry, I should have seen that..."

It was written down at least five times in the open pages of Advanced Potion-Making. Harry had no idea how he could make such a mistake. Tom seemed to feel the same way.

"You're distracted," he commented.

"I'm alright," Harry said.

Tom watched him carefully. He didn't drop his gaze even when Harry did.

"It – it's just a bit hard to focus," Harry began lamely. "Now we know Snape and Dumbledore are planning to get rid of me..."

Tom thought this over for a moment. "So long as we are watchful, we'll know when the time is right to take action."

"But when Dumbledore is gone, who knows what Snape will do."

"Dumbledore left him instructions to leave you to Voldemort, did he not?"

"Yeah, but if Snape's fine with making the Unbreakable Vow to take over Malfoy's job, to kill Dumbledore... who knows what else he's going to do for the Death Eaters, for Voldemort."

An odd look crossed Tom's face. It was one of understanding, of realisation. Softly, he began, "So, if Snape were to fail, after Draco cannot kill Dumbledore..."

"He'd die," Harry answered bluntly. "Which tells us one thing for sure: he really means it when he promises Death Eaters he'll do their dirty work for them."

Tom said nothing. He was thinking deeply. Harry didn't want to hear that Snape was going to be the one to kill him.

"It just worries me," he finished quietly.

"Well," Tom said, after a pause, "it would only make them more suspicious if you were to fall behind on your studies."

"I know..."

Tom turned his attention back to the parchment. "You've done well on this essay, so far."

"Have I?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes," Tom said. "There are a few faults, of course, but it would be even more curious still if you were to give all of your teachers perfect essays. This is good enough to be satisfactory, to give you a good mark."

"Right," Harry said. "Well, thank you."

"I'm glad to be of some help to you, in this respect," Tom answered. "You would have done almost as well on your own, however... I merely enjoy being in your company."

Harry tried to smile this comment off, but colour rose to his face a little, making him feel too hot under the bright spring sun.

Tom's eyes were on him. He began rolling up his essay in haste. "Well, that's that done then... We should probably head back inside."

"If you wish."

Back in the castle, Harry found Ron and Hermione in the Common Room talking and joking happily together, enjoying the free time they had before dinner. When Harry sat down next to them, they seemed almost surprised. He had been avoiding them these last few weeks for a lot of reasons, none of which he desired to talk to them about.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked curiously. Her tone was light and casual, leading Harry to suspect that she, like Ron, was still endlessly pleased about Lavender's lack of presence.

"I was just finishing off some homework," Harry told her. "By the lake. Thought I'd get some fresh air."

"That makes sense, I suppose," she said, appearing cautious. "Why, though? You haven't finished homework so early in years."

"It's Quidditch Saturday," he reminded her. "I have to start finishing off work early. It's too important."

She raised her eyebrows. "If Quidditch is the only reason you're finishing homework -"

"Then what're you worried about? It's still work being done."

"Tell me you at least put effort into it," she asked of him.

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron cut in. "We've barely seen Harry in weeks because of all the work we've been forced to do, you can't just bring all this up when we finally talk to him again."

Affronted by Ron's interference, Hermione puffed up at once. "And who's going to have to take care of it when the two of you start losing grades in the last term like this?"

Harry thought immediately of Tom. He said nothing, dropping his gaze. Ron opened his mouth to retort, but either the truth behind her words or a desire to not offend her stopped him. He shot a glance at Harry, who was still preoccupied.

"It's alright, anyway. Harry's got his work done, hasn't he? I dunno what else you want."

Hermione shook her head in annoyance, saying nothing. They didn't say a word for the next twenty minutes, as both Hermione and Ron hid behind books and Harry waited with nothing but his thoughts to comfort him. When Ron looked up with a bored expression and asked if they wanted to head down to dinner, neither Harry nor Hermione objected.

"Let's hope the match against Ravenclaw won't distract you from dinner, as well," Hermione began in a low voice when they headed out the portrait hole.

"Oh, come on," said Harry moodily, scowling at her as they walked, "you can't keep bringing this up like it's some offence against you personally. It's the final match of the year, Hermione!"

"It's got half the school completely distracted."

"For good reason! This match makes school history. Unlike one potions essay or, I dunno, one Transfiguration spell we have to learn, winning and losing a match like this is remembered for decades. It's -"

But his rant was cut short by a horrid gagging sound and a heavy shove to the shoulder. Ron began speeding ahead of Harry, turning into a boy's bathroom to their right.

Hermione sighed. "Look what you've done now. Quidditch isn't worth getting ill over!"

"Yeah?" Harry asked her, "You try flying fifty feet above the pitch, blocking Quaffles with a sister in the team and five brothers ready to laugh at you any minute."

Ron must have heard him, because vomiting sounded from the bathroom once more, accompanied by a low groan. "Don't talk about this," he pleaded in a muffled, echoing voice.

Hermione's lips were pressed hard together in annoyance when Harry caught sight of her.

"What do you suggest, then?" he snapped.

"Find something better to do with your time, perhaps," she hissed. "Or better yet -"

She stopped, a familiar look of overwhelming thoughts reaching her face.

"Oh," she said, her annoyance slipping away, "I think I forgot something important... You look after Ron, I have to go see Professor Vector about my last Arithmancy essay!"

Infuriated, all Harry could go was shoot her a glare, which she ignored. She disappeared around a corner in seconds, her footsteps fading.

"Listen, I'm starving, Ron," Harry called through the open bathroom door. "Can't you meet me downstairs?"

"I don't want dinner," Ron told him weakly. "Just go on without me..."

His tone amused Harry a little. "Listen, about the match, it's going to be alright. It -"

"Just go!"

Feeling as if he had no choice, Harry chose not to argue. "Alright... I see you back in the Common Room, then."

He made his way further down the corridor, hoping Ron wouldn't think he was abandoning him at the wrong time. He felt guilty for saying those things in anger in front of Ron and felt even worse about how he had lied. He wasn't hungry. He was annoyed at Hermione and wanted to avoid her, but he also wanted to take a moment to glance at the Marauder's Map...

He headed up one flight of stairs to the Seventh Floor. He thought he might try his luck again at opening the Room of Requirement to catch Malfoy, even if Tom didn't want him to. When he unfolded the map and had a look at it, he couldn't see Malfoy in the Slytherin Common Room or the Great Hall. He thought his chances of finding him in the Room of Requirement were more and more plausible until, with a jolt of surprise, he spotted Malfoy somewhere else.

In a bathroom, one floor below. Hanging around Moaning Myrtle...

Footsteps sounded next to Harry. He was so alarmed that he lowered the map and span around, slamming his shoulder into a suit of armour with a deafening: CRASH!

He hastily withdrew his wand to stifle the noise. Tom smiled at his surprise.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," he said, "but I rather thought you might have expected me to stop you entering that room once more..."

"It's fine," Harry said hastily. He glanced over Tom's shoulder, hoping Filch wasn't hurrying towards the source of noise already. "It's fine... Let's go though, before someone shows up asking what's happened."

Tom followed him without comment. Harry sped through the corridor, down one flight of stairs, until they were close to where Malfoy would be hiding.

"You're panicked," Tom said. He watched Harry, concern visible in his eyes.

"Follow me," Harry panted. His heart was racing. "Quietly. There's something I wanna see..."

They crept towards the bathroom on the next corridor. The door was closed and when Harry pressed his hear to it, he could hear nothing. Being as quiet as he could, he pushed the door open as much as he dared to.

There, across the room, with his back to the door, Draco Malfoy stood before one of the many carved sinks. His head was bowed, his knuckles white with the strain of his grip as he tried to pull himself together. Harry had never seen him looking more distressed in his life.

"Don't," called a quiet, afflicted female voice. It was Moaning Myrtle. She was terrified. "Don't... tell me what's wrong... I can help you..."

"No one can help me," Draco whispered. He was trembling badly, his voice hoarse. "I can't do it... I can't... It won't work... and unless I do it soon... he says he'll kill me..."

Malfoy drew in deep, shuddering breaths between his words. He was choking on his own tears, gasping for air as he tried to take control back over his emotions. It was no use. Harry was stunned, staring at the unlikely, horrifying scene before him. He knew Draco cried because of Voldemort's request, but never like this...

Harry made one fatal mistake next. Fuelled by curiosity and sympathy, he accidentally pushed the door a crack further open.

It made a sound. Draco looked up, panicked, and caught sight of Harry through the speckled, cracked mirror. He spun around and reached for his wand. Harry burst through the door, diving for cover, and withdrew his own wand just as Malfoy shouted in terrorised rage: "Secareileum!"

The spell hit a lamp above Harry's head, causing it to explore and shatter just as he thought: "Levicoprus!" Malfoy blocked the jinx, his face twisted into a look of hatred. Harry scrambled up to his feet once more, ready for a proper fight.

"No! No! Stop it!" Myrtle pleaded, her sobbing voice rebounding off the walls and piercing them from all directions. "Stop! STOP!"

The bin beside Harry exploded and he threw a Leg-Locker Curse at Malfoy in response. The curse missed, rebounding off the walls just like Myrtles voice, hitting a cistern below her and causing her to scream in terror and fright. It alarmed Harry further as water flooded the floor, slipping beneath his feet and throwing him off balance until -

Harry felt hands around him in a moment so quick that he hoped Malfoy missed it. Tom had stepped in to help him. Tom allowed him to never to take his eyes off Malfoy, especially in the precious two seconds when his face contorted, hatred catching him through the word, "Cruci-"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Harry shouted in alarm.

Slash! The first hit of Harry's spell struck, cutting Malfoy's words short. Slash! Blood was spurting from his chest, covering up his horrified face. Slash! In the deafening silence, even Moaning Myrtle paused in to see it. Blood was seeping through Draco's shirt, causing streaks of red to line the floors. Blood was gushing out in waves when he staggered, stumbling as his eyes were wide. Blood was dropping as his body slipped, falling fast through the haunted air.

"No -"

Draco's wand hit to the floor with a clattering sound, the clear water around him running red and taking in smoke-like drops of blood with eagerness.

"No – I didn't -"

Harry moved away from Tom blindly, dropping to his knees besides Draco's quivering body. He reached for his face with a shaking hand, unable to believe what had happened. He was dying.

In desperation, Harry turned back to Tom. "Help me," he asked of him. "Tom, please help-!"

But he stopped. To his horror, Tom was smiling. He was gazing at Harry with a look of such wonder, such joy, it rooted him to the spot. He hadn't seen Tom so feverishly happy since the day they heard Dumbledore was going to die. Even as Draco bled worse and worse, Tom rose a finger to his sharply taut lips.

"Leave him..." he hissed.

He was proud. He was amazed.

He was stopped only when Myrtle began to scream: "MURDER!"

The smile slid from Tom's face. Harry thought he might have come to his senses then, might have realised that this put the both of them in grave danger. The girl he had murdered was causing him more damage now than he could stop.

"MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

The bathroom door burst open. Snape, of all people, stood staring from the entrance, his pale face stricken with furious astonishment. All Harry could do was stare. Even as Snape advanced, thinking quickly and taking in the sight of Malfoy's ripped-open chest bravely. Harry stared. He was pushed aside.

Snape began murmuring an incantation as Harry scrambled to his feet. He was entirely distracted, his eyes fixated on the wounds Malfoy's chest bore. They began healing, slowly. Harry couldn't believe what he had done. He couldn't believe any of this was real while Malfoy gasped for breath desperately, trembling madly. Tom had eyes only for Harry. They were wide and staring, a strange, inhuman glint within them. Harry barely dared to look at him. It was more horrifying still to see that joy in Tom than it was to see Malfoy shaking and dying.

Snape's spell had to be said three times before he could get Malfoy into a sitting position.

"You need the hospital wing," Snape said in a serious tone the moment he was done. "There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we may even be able to prevent that... come..."

Malfoy managed to stagger to his feet with help. Snape barked an order to Myrtle to leave and she obeyed at once. He then turned to Harry.

"And you, Potter... you wait here for me."

He did not wait for a response. In seconds, he and Malfoy were out the door, heading straight for the hospital wing.

Harry stood in the pool of Malfoy's blood. It was a horrid, faint pinkish colour in some places, a dark pit of red in others. The sight made Harry feel ill. Malfoy could have died. Harry would have murdered him. Harry would have to have run... and where would he have gone? Out of Hogwarts, surely. With Tom, out of the gates, out into the wizarding world, alone...

Tom was walking towards him. Harry immediately began to back away, horrified by the idea of Tom being able to catch hold of him again. Tom stopped, his mad, unblinking eyes still wide. His smile had disappeared now, however. Sorrow and terror rose in Harry's throat.

"I didn't – didn't mean for that to happen," he began hoarsely.

Tom's head tilted to the side. "Then why cast the spell?"

"It – it was an accident," Harry told him. "I only read it written down, I didn't know – didn't think..."

"The Death Eaters are a great threat to us," Tom reminded him quietly.

Harry looked at him now. A thought struck him. "That's why you want Malfoy dead, right?"

Tom blinked for the first time, amazed.

"You pushed the door open," Harry said quietly. "So he'd notice me... I'm not stupid."

Tom found his composure, then. "Yes," he admitted.

"You wanted us to fight."

"Yes."

"You knew that if it went badly enough, I'd at least seriously injure Malfoy. You -..."

"You cast the spell," Tom reminded him. There was joy in his voice. A smile danced upon his lips. "That was something I never needed to do."

"I never meant to – I wouldn't have... You set me up!" Harry shouted in frustration. "You knew that if I hurt him, we'd be stopping his chances of going after Dumbledore, meaning it'd force Snape to start taking charge!"

"Yes."

Harry glared, his terror gone for the first time. His voice shook in fury. "You're trying to get me to kill Draco!"

"Not kill, no... I never thought that far ahead."

"Well, you wanted me to stop him, then! Because if we do, and if Snape can't kill an already dying Dumbledore either, because of us... no Snape, no Dumbledore."

Tom was surprised, enthralled. "How have you worked this all out?"

Harry stared at the flooded floor. His heart sank. "Well, you want Draco dead, so..."

"No," Tom said, "that's not what I ask. How is it that you know of my plans?"

When Harry gave no answer, his eyes widened.

"Oh..."

The glee in his voice was too much for Harry to take. He closed his eyes.

"You know it well," Tom said in a hushed, enthralled hiss, "for the thought has occurred to you before... hasn't it?"

Harry didn't have to answer. The door to the bathroom opened and Snape stepped inside once more. Harry might have been glad, for once, that Snape had saved him, but his face was twisted into a hateful, cautious look of surprise and fury. For the next few minutes Snape questioned Harry on where he had learnt this spell. Harry answered as best he could, his heart pounding, but still Snape knew something was curious about all this.

Despite being unable to read Harry's mind, Snape asked for his schoolbooks, all of them. Harry worried that someone had tipped him off about the Half-Blood Prince's book. Hermione, perhaps, or even Ron, if he was angry enough to betray him. Harry headed straight for the Common Room, thinking quickly on his way. He swapped his copy of Advanced Potion-Making with Ron, zooming out the Common Room straight afterwards, ignoring peoples' shock at the sight of him covered in blood.

Tom followed Harry all the way through this, but Harry never took a moment to stop until he hit the Room of Requirement. The place to hide items in was exactly as Harry had seen it in his dream with Tom. Although he knew Tom was very real, by this point, it was further proof. It was further reason to believe that Tom hadn't lied, that Tom was on his side... but Harry was too angry at him to comment on it. He ran back to the bathroom of the sixth floor to give Snape his school bag.

Snape investigated every book with precision and delicate, deliberate hesitation. When he found nothing he could call entirely unusual, he was forced to give up. He gave Harry detention until the end of term, which Harry thought was tortuously cruel, but also far less than of a punishment than he might deserve. Was Snape not going to drag him up to Dumbledore, to talk about how he had very nearly killed another student? Was Snape going to drag him too into the interference from Malfoy's family that would surely happen in the next few days because of all this?

No, Harry thought. Because Dumbledore would never suspect Harry of murder. Draco's mother, alone in the Malfoy Manor, would not care that her son had very nearly died from a school quarrel, because a more deadly, more sure peril awaited him and his entire family. Bringing the Ministry into all of this would only make them keep a close eye on the school, which every Death Eater desired to avoid. Dumbledore would be thankful of Narcissa's lack of interference, but would be thankful too that nothing would stop Snape from killing him, should Draco fail...

The moment Snape allowed Harry to leave, he did so without a word. He headed for the Gryffindor Common Room, avoiding everyone on his way. The putrid smell of blood pulled his mind back over and over again to Draco's broken, bleeding body, and when he reached the empty dormitory, he tore at his bloodstained shirt. He didn't care whether he ripped the buttons off or frayed the cuffs and collar; he didn't want the ruined shirt anywhere near him.

Tom was standing by patiently. He clearly had something to say as he watched Harry, waiting. This managed to infuriate Harry in his already stressed state. "What is it?" he demanded.

"It's merely curious..."

"What is?"

Tom smiled patiently, leaning against a post of Harry's bed to watch him.

"Had you succeeded in killing Draco tonight," he began softly, "your first kill would have been in the same place as my own. A bathroom, at Hogwarts... It would have been a brilliant coincidence."

Harry couldn't fathom how to even begin responding to this. He decided to avoid the effort entirely. He pulled a clean shirt over his head. Gathering his towel and a full set of clean clothes, he headed away from the dormitory, telling Tom to leave him alone so he could shower in peace. No matter how much Harry tried, however, he couldn't get the feel of blood off of his body, couldn't shake the fear that followed him after his close escape from murdering...

He managed to avoid Ron and Hermione that night, only explaining shortly that he hadn't meant to hurt Draco so badly. When they demanded to know more, he refused to explain it to them, saying he was too tired and was sick of being questioned so much. He later realised this was a mistake. It worried the both of them, perhaps even angering them. It separated him from them fully, making them suspect that the rumours spreading around the school were true.

Hogwarts changed from that day onwards. When Harry walked down corridors, students turned to stare at him as if they feared keeping him out of their sights. No one trusted him at all. It was worse than any rumours he had faced before, worse than people suspecting he had opened the Chamber of Secrets, because there was so much truth behind the stories they twisted the ends of. He had attacked Malfoy, he had almost killed him. He had many reasons to want the Slytherin boy dead...

Only three days passed before Ron cornered Harry to ask what had happened. It was the first time they were alone together in the dormitory, giving them a chance to talk without being overheard. Harry wondered if Hermione was forcing him into this.

"Are you gunna explain what happened between you and Malfoy, or would you rather just leave me in the dark forever about it?" Ron asked forcibly.

"I don't know what you expect me to say, Ron. I got in a fight..."

"With a clan of feeding Vampires? You were covered in blood when you got back here!"

"Yeah, well..."

"Tell me what happened."

Harry closed his eyes, unsure which emotions were which as they overpowered him."I... I used a bad spell..."

"What spell?" Ron's tone was serious. It unnerved Harry. "Where'd you learn it?"

"It was one I'd never used before," Harry explained. "It was written in the Half-Blood Princes book, I didn't know it was bad. I just thought – I thought..."

"You got rid of it, then?"

"What?"

"The book. Where'd you put it?"

"In the Room of Requirement," Harry admitted. "I'll get it later on, when-"

"You can't just go fetch it again!" Ron exclaimed incredulously. "Look what it did to Malfoy! Blimey, Harry, half the school already reckons you've lost it while the other half things you're a fully fledged murderer -"

"What?"

For a moment Ron seemed to regret his words, but he carried on. "Well, what do you expect? You come here covered in blood, with Moaning Myrtle showing up at every bathroom saying you've murdered Malfoy in a fight. People start getting suspicious, you know."

Harry felt ill again, suddenly. "So, what, you've just been joining into all the rumours already, have you?"

"No!"

"Look, I don't care what people are saying about me, Ron. I don't care what you, or Hermione, or anyone else fears I've done now -"

"I never said -"

"- because it was an accident! I didn't mean for any of it to happen at all, it just did. Can't you just – just leave me alone about it already?"

Ron's mouth opened and closed many times as he gave Harry a long, disbelieving look. He was annoyed, but more than that he was lost for ideas on how he could sort this all out. Because of the latter fact, he gave in to his anger.

"Fine," he said, standing up fully, "but you can't go blaming me when everyone else carries on thinking you've gone mad. I'll see you around..."

Anger rose up in Harry so intensely, he could have hit Ron. This would only ruin his reputation further, however, and Ron was already heading out of the dormitory without a backwards glance.

Harry kicked a trunk nearby, hard.

"Fuck!" he hissed when he toes crumpled on the tough material.

He spent the next thirty seconds hoping around like an idiot, feeling more agitated than ever. He ended up sitting on the edge of his bed, squeezing the pain and closing his eyes to resist the urge to smash more things around him. Even Ron, even Hermione, feared him now... He bit his own lip, thinking hard. He moved his hands to his head the second his toes stopped hurting.

Rubbing his forehead and running his clawed hands across his scalp, he tried to contain his own shuddering fury. Hermione hadn't talked to him these last few days. She had, in fact, deliberately ignored him from what Harry could gather. He had been happy about this at first, but when he thought about it now he realised what a loss it was. His own best friend was so unsure about him that she had to take time away to think about what might have happened. She had to hide from him, lest her fears should be true...

Someone was taking slow, calm footsteps towards him. Harry knew it was Tom even before he looked up.

"Hello."

"Hey..."

"Would it bother you if I took a seat?"

"No..."

He felt the bed shift slightly under Tom's weight. He wondered if this meant they had saved enough magic to make Tom more real. Harry hadn't done nothing today, except sit in a classroom, dreading the looks, the words, and the thoughts of his fellow students... He wished, for the first time, that he was more tired.

"What is it that Weasley wanted?"

"To talk," Harry answered. "About what happened with Malfoy..."

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth. Not that he believed it... I think he and Hermione think the rumours spreading around school are true..."

"You did not murder Draco."

"They think I tried to."

"Even if you had... Draco is a part of his conspiracy against us. Although your friend do not know this, let it be a comfort to you that, above all, you acted in self-defence against someone behind a series of people who already want us dead."

Harry didn't see how this was meant to be helpful. "He doesn't know about Snape and Dumbledore though, does he?"

"Perhaps..."

Harry had to swallow many times to soothe his dry throat. He breathed out heavily. "What if they find out about you..."

"How might they?"

"I said your name... Above Malfoy, I said your name and he might have heard it."

Tom didn't seem particularly concerned. "Too much was happening for it to go noticed."

"He could remember it. I never meant to attack him like that..."

"You have to have."

"What?"

"You have to have meant to attack him," Tom said. "Otherwise, the spell would not have worked at all. Especially on your first attempt at-"

"Shut up!" Harry cut across him very clearly, very forcibly.

Tom stared at him, bemused.

Harry had thought of this over quite a few times. It unsettled him deeply, angering him in it's truth. In his stress, he tried to stand up, but a hand stopped him. Tom had taken his wrist gently.

"Don't go..."

Harry was frozen. He was unsure what he wanted to do as Tom looked at him carefully. A soft smile reached Tom's lips. It was unlike what Harry had seen above Malfoy's bleeding body, but he tensed at the memory nonetheless. Tom seemed to notice. Perhaps also recalling Harry's comments on not wanting them to be too close, he let go of Harry's wrist.

"You cannot be proven guilty of anything," Tom said softly. "There will be a surprising lack of inquiry into this particular event, I fear. There are too many Death Eaters to satisfy by not going through with finding the intent behind your attack..."

"Right," Harry mumbled vaguely. He was distracted by a look in Tom's eye, by how close they were sitting. Remembering, in a moment of embarrassment, that Tom could read his mind, Harry looked away, colour rising to his face.

"Harry?"

"What?"

Tom's hand returned to his. "Look at me..."

It was too much to take. All Harry could do was follow Tom's request, his heart suddenly beating faster. Tom smiled down at him, not having to say a word as he ran his thumb across Harry's hand slowly. Entranced by Tom's handsome face, Harry reached out a hand in a moment of bravery. He wanted to kiss Tom, to hold him close... but his hand met thin air.

A curtain seemed to drop on the stage of Harry's soft emotions. Reality was painful to him. Tom was not really here at all; his hand was an illusion, conjured only from the magic power he and Tom both harnessed. Dread returned to Harry, as well as the unpleasant emotions Tom had saved him from moments ago. Harry was painfully alone...

"How?" he asked in nothing over a whisper.

"How what?" Tom asked him.

Harry swallowed many times to soothe his dry mouth. "How can I make you real?"

Tom was full of thoughts, full of unfortunate reflections. "We haven't the power to make me whole, yet..."

"Is it possible, though? To make you whole?"

Tom reached up a hand to stroke the side of Harry's face. "Yes..."

Harry's eyes closed at his touch. Tom was both calm and calming. He made him forget everything happening elsewhere in the castle, in the busy minds of the morose teachers and terrified students. He needed Tom now more than ever...

"Can you tell me how? Please..."

"In time," Tom whispered.

His touch faded with the decline of his voice. When Harry opened his eyes, Tom was gone.