A/N: My mental health is still not the best. (My mum actually confronted me about it as I was writing the last ~800 words of this and I started to cry. I don't recommend writing while crying.)

If anyone was curious about the clues in last weeks parts they were; lineage ritual, Tom gripping Harry's neck before saying he had something to do, Tom looking at Harry strangely after he did the thing. He stole some blood and then did the lineage ritual.

This is your warning that we're officially entering creature!Harry territory.

I personally really like this part because... well, you'll see.

The past week felt unreal. Harry had a hard time remembering what had happened, and what hadn't. He had lapses in his memory, and what he could remember had a certain dreamlike quality to it. He wasn't convinced that the past week had happened. He tried to convince himself that it had, but he had seemingly been asleep for most of it. Harry scoffed at himself when he had that thought. Why would he had been asleep all the time without a reason? He could clearly remember that he managed to do some things, so it must had been real.

He could clearly remember waking up in Tom's bedroom for the second time.

Harry blinked a couple of times before he finally opened his eyes. It took him a while to orientate himself - he was not used to falling asleep in a sitting position and it took him a moment to recognize that he wasn't on the transfigured bed in the open area where he usually slept. His neck cracked as he moved it, stiff after it had been in an uncomfortable position the whole night. He slowly connected the dots as he realized he was sitting on the armchair in Tom's bedroom. The book he could feel next to his foot confirmed it - he must have fell asleep while reading. Oddly, he could only remember the beginning of the book.

As per usual, he noticed Tom staring at him when he came back to his senses. For once, there was actual space between them as Tom was sat by his desk.

"Sorry for intruding. You could have waken me." Harry said and picked up the book from his feet. He skimmed through it, but found himself recognizing nothing past the first page. Had he really been so tired that he couldn't read more? It was hard to believe, the writing itself had been good, and books were usually slow to get into. He couldn't make the pieces fit when he tried to puzzle them together, but decided to shrug it off. He could simply had been tired.

"And willingly missed a chance on seeing your pretty face when I woke up? I think not, darling." Tom answered.

"If you miss me so much, perhaps I should sleep in your bed next time. Saves my neck, if nothing else." Harry answered.

He frowned at the memory. Why would he have said that? It felt out of character. Perhaps he was mistaken, and the memory was actually a dream… but he could still not remember more than the first page of the book, even if he had other memories where he was clearly reading it. Harry bit his lip, a sign that he felt troubled. Why would he not remember the plot of Breakfast on Pluto? He couldn't even name a character from it when he tried!

Harry flinched as his teeth broke skin. Had his teeth been this sharp before? He absentmindedly licked up the blood. Somehow, the supposedly metallic tang tasted sweet. He swiped his tongue over his lip again, but it felt as soft as it had done before the skin broke. Had magic already healed it? How odd. The puzzle only seemed to grow bigger, and he had barely collected any pieces yet. Harry shook his head slightly as he tried to collect himself. What more had he done this past week?

He had copied his potion notes and written professor Snape a short apologetic message for the delay, while Tom had hovered nearby.

"You do understand that you can't inform Severus what the potion is for?" Tom asked, while handing Harry a piece of parchment with calculations that had fallen on the floor.

"Professor Snape is a brilliant potions master, I'm sure he can make a potion from the notes if needed. He has forced his assistance on me, Tom, I need to send him the notes. I'm fairly sure he'll find out where you live only to copy them himself otherwise." Harry answered, as he put aside the duplicates to not copy anything twice by mistake.

"I don't think he would be able to get that far, especially not if he asks Lucius to assist him."

Harry gave Tom an odd look, but chose to not answer.
"Do you not have anything better to do than hovering nearby?" he asked instead.

"I could embrace you from behind and look over your shoulder, but I don't think you would appreciate it as much as I would." Tom teased.

"Hand me those notes about lacewing flies instead. I really need to figure out an exact amount needed of those…"

"Leave it to Severus. You said it yourself, he's a potions master."

"Yet it was me that you kidnapped, Tom."

His frown deepened. Had he called Tom by name to his face before? He knew that he used the name when he talked with Nagini - and that was another oddity, he could not remember any real conversations with Nagini - but he rarely referred to Tom at all when they spoke. He had called the man for bastard once or twice, but he refrained from actually using Tom's name. Why would he suddenly have done it twice?

There were too many oddities, and he had the nagging feeling that he never did get the proper amount of lacewing flies needed for the potion. Now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't remember properly working on the potion at all… What was happening to him? Had he fallen sick? Perhaps his memories were actually fever dreams. It could explain why he felt as if he had spent most of the past week in bed. The question was only how he had gotten sick in the first place.

Harry bit his lip again as a thought hit him, and thankfully the skin didn't break this time. Whose bed had he slept in? He had woken up in Tom's bed this morning, and was actually still in it as he had chosen to mull over the past week instead of going up. He only knew that it was Tom's bed because it was much softer than his transfigured bed could ever be. How he had ended up sharing a bed with Tom though was still a mystery to him. The most logical course of action would be to make a show of waking up and asking the man, but Harry wasn't completely sure he wasn't still dreaming. The feeling of not actually being awake clung to him like a second skin. His magic seemed to do too, now that he thought about it. That could explain why his magic had healed his lip within seconds… but he was getting off track. The question had been when - and how - he had ended up in Tom's bed. Harry's nose scrunched up as he searched through his memories.

Nagini had been involved, he remembered suddenly.

Harry woke up from the sudden cold. His nerve system was sending a dull pain through his body, and it took his sleepy mind a moment to realize that it was because he had fell down on the floor. Tom was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, looking down on him with obvious amusement. Harry glowered at him before turning to his bed. Nagini's head was looking down on him from under a blanket.

"Did I push you, hatchling?" Nagini asked, feigning innocence.

"You bloody know that you did!" Harry answered, and stood up. He had no desire to lie on the floor. "I don't get why though…" he added, and shot Tom a dirty glance. It wouldn't surprise him if the man was at fault.

"My guess is that the bed wasn't big enough." Tom said. "My bed on the other hand…"

Harry grabbed his blanket off Nagini as well as his pillow, before shouldering past Tom into the bedroom.

"Only this once, you hear me!" he called over his shoulder. Tom chuckled from behind him.

Harry's frown turned into a slight grimace. He had shared bed with Nagini without problem before that - and she usually slept on him anyway, so it seemed unrealistic that he had been pushed out of bed. It seemed even more unrealistic that he chose to share bed with Tom instead of getting back into his own bed. If he didn't know better, he wouldn't hesitate to declare the memory false - but it couldn't be. He had no other reason as to why he had started to sleep in Tom's bed.

Another question came into his mind before he could think too much about it. Had he read the letter from his mother yet? He had procrastinated on opening it for a few days, but surely he had read it during the past week… It hadn't been under his pillow when he had got pushed out of bed, so he must have read it before then. Harry scrunched up his nose as he searched through his memories. Before the bed incident but after he copied his notes for professor Snape… ah.

He sat down on his bed, as he had done a few days earlier when he read the letter from professor Snape. He felt guilty, knowing that his mother must be anxiously waiting for a response and he hadn't as much as opened the letter yet because of his torn feelings regarding his parents. The harsh truth was that they were more likely to go to Dumbledore if he didn't write them. At this point, he would likely only have himself to blame if his old Headmaster got involved in his alluded kidnapping. With a determined sigh, Harry opened the letter.

My Harry,

I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you. I should have acted the moment that I recognized Riddle. If I did, perhaps you would still be with me.

You shouldn't blame yourself. You care too much, sweetheart, and you should be proud of it. I trust that you would have told us about Riddle if you believed him to be a danger to you, but you didn't so I can only assume that he means you no harm.

I know you wrote that you don't believe you'll be able to write more letters, but I sincerely hope that you do. I'm worried about you, and I don't want you to be stuck with him. We'll save you, even if you insist that there's no need for it. You might find it insulting that we don't believe you, but there's nothing as strong as a mother's love for her child. I need to know that you're safe, and I won't until I can see it for myself.

Take care, and remember that I love you. I hope to see you again soon.

Much love,
mum

It was incomprehensive to him as to why, but Harry found himself crying. He was about to brush the tears away when he felt someone doing it for him. Harry looked up to see Tom hovering over him. Harry blinked a few times, confused as to why Tom seemed to care. He had a moment where nothing seemed to make sense anymore, before he slapped Tom's hand away and stood up from the bed. The letter from his mother was clutched in one hand.

"You saw nothing." Harry said calmly.

"If you insist, my dear." Tom answered with a smile. Harry gave him one last look before he walked away to fetch some parchment. He had a reply he needed to write…

He immediately disliked that Tom had seen him so vulnerable. It wasn't often that he did cry, and he couldn't believe that Tom had seen him do it. The man just had to always be there! It was frustrating - and odd. Now that he thought about it, Tom had been there during all the moments that he could remember from the past week… and he couldn't remember much at all… It was rather suspicious.

Lying in bed and trying to reminiscence was getting him nowhere though. With a sigh, Harry finally opened his eyes, only to see Tom's face hovering above his. He begrudgingly admitted that he was proud of himself for not making a sound in surprise at their close proximity.

"Your range of facial expressions are quite impressive, dearest. What I'm curious about, is the cause for them." Tom all but purred.

"I remembered a dream." Harry answered, and pushed Tom away so that he could sit up. His eyes locked onto his hand - which was still resting on Tom's shoulder - and Harry froze. There was a ring on his left ring finger that had definitely not been there before.

With this realization, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the difference in sensations. He had absentmindedly been aware that his teeth seemed sharper and that his magic was buzzing under his skin, but as he moved his head he could feel how his hair was not only longer but also heavier. It didn't feel like the curly mess that he was used to. Harry gave Tom one last glare, before he hurried to the bathroom. He felt as if he was in extreme need of a mirror. He knew that Tom followed him, but as he entered the bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror, Harry forgot all about it.

The first thing that he noticed was his eyes. They were unnaturally green as usual - he was as always eerily reminded of the killing curse - but they seemed to glow. It contrasted rather well with his dark skin, but it should be impossible. As he turned his head in different directions to see if his eyes really gave a green light of their own, he realized why his hair ha felt different. Instead of an afro, he had dreads. Harry carefully pulled on one. They were about as thick as his thumb, if he had to hazard a guess. It would take some getting used to… he could try to undo them, but he had a nagging feeling that he wouldn't be able to. Harry pulled on the dread one last time before taking a closer look at his mirror image. At first he had thought it was the light, but his skin was definitely a shade darker than usual. He opened his mouth slightly, and got a confirmation that his teeth was sharper. Harry carefully ran his tongue over the sharp incisors. They stood out against the other changes, as they made him more dangerous. The other rather seemed to enhance his looks. Harry closed his mouth again and leaned closer to the mirror. It could be his imagination, but his cheekbones seemed not only more pronounced, but also higher… and his neck seemed somewhat slimmer and longer. For a second, he was reminded of his aunt Petunia, and grimaced. He ran his fingers over his neck in a examining manner, and prodded at it with his fingers a few times. The skin felt thicker, and he was eerily reminded of petting Nagini. The only thing missing was actual scales.

"You weren't joking when you said that magic healed my eyes." Harry breathed, as he leant back from the mirror. He chose to continue to study himself instead of looking towards Tom. He wasn't vain, but he looked absolutely stunning. It was hard to believe that it was himself that he was seeing in the mirror.

"I find it rather hard to believe that this happened over night." he then continued, and turned to look at Tom.

"I don't know what to tell you." Tom answered while giving him a slow once-over. "You know that you didn't look like this yesterday."

"It's too many changes, and in a too short amount of time." Harry continued slowly. He felt a sudden distrust when it came to Tom. He wasn't sure what had happened the past week, and before he had all the facts, he would stay guarded.

"You're overthinking, dear. It's magic." Tom said, and finally met his eyes.

"You're obviously appreciating the changes." Harry commented and looked back towards the mirror.

"I would appreciate you no matter what you looked like." Tom drawled. Harry glanced at him, and before he could fully comprehend it his magic pushed Tom out of the bathroom and closed the door. Harry blinked.

"That was uncalled for!" Tom said from the other side of the now closed door. Harry blinked again. He knew his magic was buzzing under his skin, but that it would act without him seemingly controlling it… He had had perfect control over it this past week, if his memories were to trust. That was the crux though, wasn't it? His memories were not to trust.

He flicked his wrist towards the door to see if he could lock it wandlessly and nonverbally. For a moment, he thought it had worked, before the lock exploded. Harry blinked dumbly at it as Tom pushed the door open.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked, his tone worried. Harry shook his head slightly, eyes still on the exploded lock.

"I don't think I'm okay at all." Harry said slowly.
"I feel strange, and I look strange, and this past week have been strange." he began, and turned his eyes towards the man at last. "Tom, what did you do?"

He had a fleeting thought that this was the first time that he consciously called Tom by name, before his mind snapped onto the fact that the man in question was coming closer. Harry tensed as he waited. His eyes locked onto Tom's raised hand, and watched as it moved towards his shoulder. His eyes flicked back to Tom when Tom's hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

"I don't know." Tom confessed quietly. "I saw your magic when it fixed your eyes, Harry. It was attacking. Not only your eyes, but also your core. I wanted to help it, I wanted to unbound your core. I put you to sleep, and I experimented to help. I don't know the consequences of my actions. I don't know if this is a sign that I succeeded."

"And my memories?" Harry breathed.

"False. I didn't think... I thought they would be enough, that you wouldn't question anything. I thought I knew you well enough by now to do it, but I don't. You're an enigma." Tom answered, his excitement rising.

"And what are you not telling me?" Harry questioned, his eyes glowing stronger. Tom paused for a moment. It wouldn't have been noticeable if Harry hadn't been looking intently at him.

"According to a lineage ritual, you're a Dark Creature."

"Impossible, my father isn't, and my mother can't be-" Harry started.

"Your core was bound. It's likely that your father's core is as well."

"But why would anyone bind our cores? And who?" Harry asked, incomprehending.

"I have my suspicions, but in case that I'm wrong, I'll wait before sharing them." Tom answered carefully. Harry looked at him searchingly before nodding.

"What kind of creature am I?" Harry asked instead, changing the subject.

"Have you ever heard of Echidna?"

"Echidna? As in singular?"

"Yes. I thought it was a myth, but you're obvious proof… Harry, Echidna was the mother of all monsters. The mother of all Dark Creatures. Your power is amazing. There can only ever be one Echidna at the time, so I suspect you're a direct descendant. It's from your grandmother - Euphemia Potter - according to the ritual. I don't know anything about her, but perhaps you should ask your father what he knows." Tom said, his excitement high once more. Harry spent a long moment looking at him and considering his words.

"The Potters are a known light family…" he mused. "Does Echidna have anything to do with snakes?" he then asked.

"Ah… Echidna was half-snake, half-woman… I don't know how she looked, I couldn't find much about her." Tom admitted. Harry nodded shortly.

"I wonder if I'll be able to go back to my family when my core is fully unbound… oh well. My memories were false, you said?" Harry asked, changing the subject once again. Tom nodded carefully, guarded if his eyes were anything to go by.

"The letter from my mother… did you open it?" Harry wondered.

"I had to, to be able to include the memory."

"Ah… and was there any reason as to why I was in your bed? The memory with Nagini was far from convincing, I do believe it was what gave you away the most."

"I enjoy having you close." Tom answered, unashamed. "I'm attracted to you, and some day you'll have to admit that you're attracted to me."

Harry gave a short laugh.

"In your dreams. Now, if you excuse me, I haven't showered in a week, and I have a potion I need to be working on, not to mention a letter I need to respond to. I sincerely hope that you sent professor Snape copies of our notes."

"I did. I have a letter from him, as well as a letter from an unknown sender. Actually, the owl is here as well… which should have been impossible…"

"Must be Hedwig." Harry answered with a fond smile. "It does not surprise me that someone remembered that she's always able to find me. I wonder who did it though…"

"Likely the sender of the letter." Tom drawled. Harry shot him a dirty glance.

"What are you still doing here? I said that I'm going to shower."

Tom backed out of the bathroom when Harry's magic started to make the air thicker. The door repaired itself, closed itself and locked itself after Tom had walked over the threshold. Harry considered it for a moment before he stepped into the shower, not bothering to undress. He spared a moment to hope that Tom had simply transfigured his clothes into a pair of pyjama pants instead of undressing him, but he didn't pay it much mind.

The water turned on as if by itself. Harry's magic was dancing on his skin, reflecting a vibrant green sheen. Just slightly darker than the killing curse, it was as if he was bathing in death. The warm water sprayed across his skin, and Harry gave an involuntary hiss of pleasure. For a long, quiet moment everything was pure bliss. Then his magic gave out white sparks as it started attacking his core and he felt the pyjama pants plastered against his legs when he moved in surprise. His chest was a firework show and he was taking a shower while dressed. Something broke inside him and Harry started laughing.

He found himself on the floor of the shower, his body shaking from laughter and his skin pleasantly buzzing from both his magic and the warm water that was still spraying down on him. He had perhaps been awake only for a couple of hours, after a week of bewitched sleep. His body and his magic had changed without his knowledge, without his consent. He felt violated, both by Tom and whoever had bound him in the first place. This was not what he had expected from life. He had been normal. He would never be normal again, and it was all Tom's fault. Had Tom never brought Nagini to the Magical Menagerie, Harry would never had realized that he was a parselmouth, and Tom would never have been interested in him, and he would never known that his magic had been bound for years. He would have been normal. He wouldn't have been happy, he wasn't happy, but he would have been normal. His laughing fit rose in pitch. Once again, he reminded himself of aunt Petunia. How stupid. He loved magic, and his magic seemed to love him. Hadn't Tom said that his magic fixed his vision by itself? What was there to say that this wouldn't have happened even if he never met Tom? Of course, it would likely had taken a lot longer for his magic without Tom's… help. Perhaps this was for the best. The slow changes without explanation would likely had driven him crazy. Not to say that Harry didn't feel fairly crazy already… but more crazy.

He could hear Tom through the bathroom door, but the sound of his own laughter and of the shower was drowning the man's words. They couldn't be important anyway. Nothing seemed really important right now. Not only was the past week a lie, his life was a lie. It must have been the greatest joke ever. He surely hoped Fate found it amusing. He definitely did. Harry was dimly aware that Tom stopped yelling, and that there was a bang. Was it the bathroom door again? Poor door… it was so unlucky today. Like him. Harry started to laugh again as he likened himself to the bathroom door. A strong pair of arms lifted him out from the shower, and he shivered at the loss of warmth. His magic had one last spike before it calmed itself and soaked into his skin again.

The arms belonged to a warm body and Harry nuzzled against it. He absently registered that the body must be Tom, as they were the only ones in the apartment. Well, except for Nagini and apparently Hedwig, but neither had arms. At least, he didn't think so… they could have of course. Invisible perhaps. Harry giggled at the thought, and then he continued giggling because it seemed better than laughter, and everything was still so funny. He nuzzled against Tom again as his body shook from his giggles. He could hear Tom saying something, and he recognized some of the words - like child and mental breakdown and not worth it but he couldn't puzzle any of them together to actually mean something.

An owl hooted in the background. Harry smiled fondly, his giggles dying down. He had missed Hedwig. It was so nice to hear her again… Harry hooted back, and started giggling again. It sounded funny. He felt how Tom sighed exasperatedly, but Harry didn't care to stop giggling now that he had started again. He hooted at Hedwig in between giggles, please to hear that she hooted back at him. It made him sad that he couldn't understand her, but it was fun nonetheless. Too bad he wasn't a… what would it even be called? Hootmouth? Why was the snake-language called parsel? Was parsel even a word? Did it have anything to do with parcels? A snake carrying parcels… that would have been funny… maybe he could ask Nagini? He was getting off track though.

Harry opened his eyes, even if he wasn't aware that he had closed them in the first place, to look up at Tom.

"Why is the snake-language called parsel?" he asked, as seriously as he could possibly muster in his current state of mind.

"I'd tell you if I knew, child." Tom promised. "You should sleep. I don't think bewitched sleep is good for the brain after long periods of time… I wonder if there's any research on this…"

"You sleep with me." Harry demanded, feeling very much like a small child. Tom was warm and felt safe, so he wanted Tom to sleep with him. He was still mad at Tom, but it wasn't very important right now, and he couldn't remember why he was mad at Tom so it was even less important. Especially since he was exhausted after laughing so much and sleep started to sound like a really good idea.

"That's not at all how I imagined you saying those words." Tom said with a small laugh as he put Harry down on a bed. Harry wasn't sure which bed, but it didn't matter.

"You sleep with me." Harry repeated when he realized that Tom had never said yes.

"I'll sleep with you." Tom promised and ran his fingers through Harry's hair affectionately. It didn't work as well with the dreads and Harry frowned. Tom wouldn't be able to play with his hair anymore.

"You're not sleeping." he pointed out childishly.

"Neither are you." Tom answered, and lied down on the bed next to him. Harry was quick to nuzzle against Tom again. He absently realized that he was dry, but he couldn't remember getting dry. Either he hadn't listened when Tom casted a drying spell, or his own magic had decided to help. It wasn't important, but he found himself thinking about a lot of things that was far from important. It was easier than thinking about the important things. Not that he was sure what the important things was...

"You're thinking too loud." Tom chastised.

"And you're not sleeping." Harry countered as he nuzzled even closer to Tom.

"You already said that." Tom sighed, and ran his fingers over Harry's back. Harry made a noise against Tom's body. Tom's fingers made him relax until he felt as if he were a pile of goo. They were on the bed, not in it, but Tom was warm, and Harry was tired, and it felt good.

"'Night…" Harry mumbled, although it was still midmorning. He felt as if he could sleep for another week.

"Sweet dreams, child." Tom answered. Harry felt as if he should say something to that, something about real dreams or false memories, but he wasn't sure why so he decided that it would be better to let it be. If he remembered the reason later, he could probably say something about it when he woke up. For now, he was close to asleep.

It didn't take long before he actually was asleep, nuzzled against Tom's body with Tom's arms around him. It felt warm, and safe, and for now Harry could forget that he was actually mad at Tom. There would be plenty of time to be mad when he woke up.

A/N: I really liked this part because of Harry's breakdown, if you were curious. I based it a lot on myself, because I have a tendency to react with laughter when I don't understand/don't know how to react, and there's been a lot of situations where I've been overwhelmed and started to behave like a child. From experience, mental breakdowns are really exhausting.

I should probably rewrite the summary for this... does anyone have an idea for it?

The next part will be an interlude, because the plot advances outside of Tom's apartment as well.

Please review x It's one of the things that always makes me happy x