Chapter 8

Only One Horcrux

Within the depths of the dungeon, the dark and dank lowest level, the soft weeping sounds of a girl resounded off of the runny stone walls. The silhouettes of two persons moved deeper into the cavernous bowels until, at last, there was nowhere left to go. A founded fear emanated from her like a wondrous aura. Her wrist burned under the tight grip rubbing against the skin. She was thrust against the wall, and her head bounced on the stone.

"Shut the fuck up, Myrtle," Tom ordered as he towered over her to prevent her escape.

The portly girl hiccoughed several times as she attempted to catch her breath. "I told you already, I didn't tell a soul!" she pleaded with him. Her knees knocked together and buckled, but Tom quickly righted her by thrusting her back against the wall.

"You did, you stupid bitch, I can see it in your eyes. Who did you tell?"

Myrtle's blubbering was almost too much. Tom felt a powerful pull to shut her up permanently, but that would not do. He needed to know who and how many she had blabbed to before the word got out around to the whole school. Instead, giving her a quick dose of the Cruciatus Curse seemed more reasonable to him, and he did just that.

He leaned back against the end of the tunnel and picked at a fingernail while the girl recovered on her hands and knees. A gaudy gold ring sat upon his middle finger, the large black stone set in the centre glimmered from the reflection of his lighted wand tip. "You ready to tell me yet?" he asked her quietly, unwilling to look up from the little hangnail giving him such agitation.

"Mina Bulstrode," she said - and retched on the floor.

Tom scowled. "That cow? She'll tell the whole school."

Myrtle shook her head adamantly. "She won't! I swore her to secrecy!"

"Look at me," he said, kneeling to her level. He lifted her chin and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Are you telling me that you've snitched to only Mina and no one else?"

"Yes, I promise," Myrtle whimpered, and Tom believed her.

He pointed his wand at her, feeling quite cheerful. "–Obliviate!—"

"You are mine. Never betray me..."

Harry flinched, rubbing his scar. "Professor Merrythought?"

Galatea Merrythought, professor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, looked up from her papers. Her piled-on, silver-streaked hair bobbled as her head stilled. She peered at the boy through pointy, rhinestone embedded glasses. "Yes, dear?" Her voice was gruff and sultry, fitting quite well with her sluggish demeanour.

Harry pointed to the clock on the wall, indicating that his detention had come to an end. "Can I go now, miss?"

The elderly woman propped herself up to look over her desk at the parchment Harry had been writing his lines on. "Have you learned your lesson, then? You never strike another student, no matter what. You go to a teacher and let them deal with it. Am I to be understood?"

"Yes, miss. I won't do it again," Harry replied in earnest.

"Good, I don't want to see you in detention for the rest of the year. People will start to talk about how much time we're spending together." She cocked an eyebrow as Harry burst into a fit of embarrassed giggling while he packed his things away. "I mean it, Harry. You're behaviour may affect your marks if you don't settle down soon. Also," she added, holding up a finger to stop the boy before he dashed from the room, "I haven't gotten a reply from your parents yet. I sent off an owl over a week ago to discuss this excessively naughty behaviour of yours and no one has yet to respond."

Harry closed his gaping mouth and clutched the handle of his bag as hard as he could. "I'm sorry, miss," he stammered, "My father died over the summer, and my mummy's been institutionalised at St. Mungo's for being nutters." There, he said it. He hadn't said it before to anyone, and he as certain that Tom hadn't either, but it was shocking to find out that none of the staff at Hogwarts knew anything about it.

"And who are you staying on with?" she asked firmly, hiding her shock. "…Over the holidays, Harry?"

He shrugged. What did it matter to her where he was staying? "With Tom, miss; we've got a house in Richmond."

"And he's just turned seventeen?"

Harry nodded. He did not like where this questioning seemed to be heading. The woman's smile had faded. She scratched something onto a piece of old parchment while she sized Harry up and down. This was none of her sodding business. "What about your grandparents or other relatives, dear? Is there anyone else I can get in touch with?"

"Er…" Harry stared hypnotically at a spot on the floor. "No, not really. Only got an uncle, but he's in Azkaban Fortress for murdering my father and grandparents, miss."

"Oh my," Merrythought gushed. Her gaunt, hollow cheeks flushed with life. "And there's no one else? You're staying on with your brother unsupervised? Harry, I'm not sure I can allow this to continue. You need proper supervision during the holidays, what with magic and—"

"My brother's been taking care of me since I was a baby, miss," he spat back, growing quickly defensive. What was she insinuating? That Tom and he were running amuck without a care? They had plenty of money now, thanks to the Riddle fortune; they didn't need anyone to look after them! So he cuffed a few dunderheads who thoroughly deserved it, and tossed some dungbombs into empty classrooms when no one was looking. Big deal! He always finished his homework, studied relentlessly for every exam, and even brushed his teeth every night before he went to bed. Tom would murder him for this slip of the tongue… he should have lied. "Can I go now?"

Merrythought nodded reluctantly. "Yes, of course, Harry. Good night."

Tossing his bag over his shoulder, Harry pushed through the classroom door to get away. He had said too much, he knew that. Oh, Merlin, he was going to hear it. If anyone started poking around into their pasts and discovered that Morfin had not actually committed the crimes he was being held for… No, he would not think about that. He wished he didn't know. They should have told the truth in the beginning. But Tom Riddle was going to kill his brother! There was no other way to handle it! What was he —?

With a sudden bang that filled the empty corridor, Harry's legs inexplicably locked together. He plummeted, face-first, to the floor. Seething, he pushed himself up and looked behind. "Ow," he hissed, spotting Cygnus Black and Druella Rosier closing in on him. "What was that for?"

"That was for telling Orion about how you took advantage of me in the potions stores!" Druella growled. Cygnus shared her dark guise as he put his arm around her shoulder. Her wand was pointed threateningly at Harry's face. "He won't speak to me anymore, and his family's broken off our engagement!"

Harry gaped back at her, awed. "I did not tell anyone! I swear! It was probably Myrtle!"

Druella shook her head. "No, it was you – he told me so! Anyway, —Rictusempra!—" she cried – and a jet of bright light shot from the tip of her wand, hitting Harry square in the chest. "That's for snitching!"

Every muscle in his torso tensed to the point of snapping as the jinx assaulted Harry's nerves and skin. He laughed uncontrollably at the sensation, it bringing tears to his eyes as he scrambled to pull his wand from his robes. "Druella don't—oh, bloody hell, make it stop!" he screeched.

"I hope you're sore for a week!" she shouted back, leaving the boy in a writhing mass on the floor. Cygnus snickered, still holding her around the shoulders as they left him to deal with the hex on his own.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, with a book propped on his bare knees, Tom looked up as Harry dragged himself into his dormitory room and threw himself beside him. Hiding a well deserved smirk, he closed his text and set it down. "Problems, Harry? You look like something the cat's dragged in."

The rest of the Slytherin sixth year boys were glaring at Harry. Something very strange was afoot. "No, never better," he mocked cheerfully, smiling up at the handsome visage looming above him. He tucked his hands behind his head and stretched his aching muscles to relax.

"Why is he always in here? Why doesn't he sleep in his own dormitory?"

Tom's posture stiffened. "Mind your fucking business, Rookwood."

The pimply-faced boy in the bed across from them gulped.

"He's my little brother and the only family I got left, and I want him close to me whenever possible. Do you have a problem with that, you pathetic, fucking troll?"

Harry snorted loudly. Augustus Rookwood stilled his ragged breath and shook his head at Tom with sincerity. "No, that's fine. I'm sorry, Tom… so sorry."

"Yeah, Slughorn doesn't mind, so shut up," Harry added, and was immediately clipped on the cheek for his outburst. His glare remained fixed on the other boys until Yaxley, Nott, Dolohov, and Bagman all averted their attention and closed their curtains. Rookwood followed closely behind with shaky fingers.

Harry reached up and pulled the drawstring to close theirs and turned quickly to face Tom, immediately dropping the tough-guy act and looking even more ragged than he had when he arrived. "We got a problem!"

Tom fell back against his pillows, rolling his eyes. "What about?"

Fisting his hair, Harry took a deep breath before spewing his guts out to Tom. "Merrythought's been asking me questions about us and our family. She said I'm far too young to be staying on with only you for supervision during holidays. What if she puts me in an orphanage, Tom? What if someone interrogates Morfin and finds out the truth about Riddle?"

"What the hell did you tell her?" Tom hissed viciously. He rose up, gripping Harry's jaw, looking into his eyes.

Harry growled at him, slapping his hand away. "Nothing about that, idiot! It was just the way she was looking at me."

Tom sighed. Harry was always so paranoid about everything. "I'm seventeen, plenty old enough to care for you while school is out. I think my sparkling reputation supersedes any old orphanage. If you'd stop getting into trouble we wouldn't have these issues poking up."

"Yeah, it's all come back to bite me on my bum," Harry mumbled. "Just the other day, Minerva accused me of telling Hufflepuff's Chaser about this move we invented, allowing him to one-up her during their match. She's not talking to me. Olive Hornby said I was a true Slytherin and ran off crying. I don't even want to think about why. And just now, Drue—er... Orion told someone I did something rather nasty. At this rate, I won't have any friends left."

"Oh, who needs them anyway?" Tom fit in between Harry's ramble.

"Funny thing is – I don't get how anyone could have known about that move. We didn't practice it in the open. We worked it out on paper in the library together. And Orion said that it was me who told him when I plainly didn't!"

Harry curled into Tom's embrace, clearly dejected. He seemed more depressed than Tom could remember him being. It was working. Using Legilimency on Harry while he slept had been a wonderful tool to learn all of his secrets. He would never suspect own, dear brother of such acts. It was for the best though. These cretins who were slowly turning on him were poison for the boy. Now Harry could concentrate on his studies and stop getting into unneeded trouble.

"My scar hurts, Tom, make it go away, please."

"Course," Tom whispered. After folding his glasses and setting them aside, Tom pressed his thumbs against Harry's temples while the boy undressed. He caressed the fine skin and baby soft hairs feathered in soft waves of ink black. With Harry's head tipped back into his lap and his eyes closed, Tom looked at him more closely. He hadn't really noticed how different their features were before. Tom's were sculpted, his jaw strong, his dark eyes set deep; classically handsome. Harry's features were soft; the end of his nose was upturned, his lips were bowed and pink and his bright green eyes were almond-shaped. He didn't look like anyone Tom could think of. Certainly not their mother or father; disfigured or chiselled. Perhaps he had taken on Riddle's mother's features. Tom hadn't gotten a very good look at her before he snuffed out her life. She could have been pretty at one time. Yes, Harry probably did inherit her likeness… A pity he would never know.

"Harry?" Tom whispered, giving the boy a subtle shake. "Let's go to sleep, alright? I'm tired."

"Mhmm…" Harry moaned, and curled deeper into Tom's arms.

Tom pulled a duvet over them and snuggled in. "Baby, you all right?"

"'m scared, Tom," he whispered, and nudged his lips against his brother's chin, drawing them slowly up to his mouth. "What are we going to do?"

"Don't worry," Tom whispered back. He could feel Harry's fingers grazing along the elastic of his pants. Shivers of pleasure ran across his flushed skin. "I'm going to take care of you."

Throwing a book across the room, Tom could not find the strength to look at another paragraph on the properties of doxy eggs without vomiting. He was alone this day. He hadn't wanted to venture off to Hogsmeade as all of the other older students did. The quaint little village was full of absolutely nothing that held his interest.

On the other end of the spectrum, Harry had squealed at the chance to go. He had missed his first outing due to detention and another for lack of permission, but had finally acquired his mother's signature over the Christmas holidays, and was dying for this day to come.

Try as he might, Tom busied himself with studying and keeping his mind on useful things, and not Harry. The younger boy had been heartbroken by all of his 'so-called' friends abandoning him so impulsively. Only Rubeus Hagrid seemed immune to the false memories implanted in his head. He was as thick as he was massive; the magic almost seemed to bounce off of him when Tom cast it, and he couldn't be sure whether it was idiocy or heritage that prevented it from working. He'd have to study up on giants and their weaknesses if he was going to try and tackle that obstacle again.

Oddly enough, a failed spell was not the source of Tom's anxiety. Something strange kept pricking at his mind and conscience. His heart had been beating at a rapid pace all morning, and his thoughts vaulted from one thing to another without control. He rocked in place on his bed, wand in hand, eyes averted to the corner of the room where Dolohov's bed sat.

Dolohov…

Harry had clocked him in the courtyard some time back. There was something Tom had – yes… he had ordered his friends to take the boy down a notch. That's it! Oh hell...

It suddenly occurred to Tom that he did not want that to happen. He was pushing Harry too hard too fast, and could seriously fuck with his head for no good reason at all. Stability was not a trait his mother or father had blessed either boy with; one wrong move and Harry might just up and crack. Tom had done enough to him already. Harry was practically friendless, and people shoved him in the halls as he passed. He'd been hexed and jinxed more than once, and he cried on Tom's shoulder two nights in a row without saying a word. This worry about Merrythought and her idle threats of an orphanage had really hit home. Harry was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was far too young to be so tense and worried all day and night.

He stood up and slipped his loafers on, not bothering with a robe or anything other than his wand. The Death Eaters were going to strike today; he could feel it in his bones. He threw open the door to the common room and ran straight away through the castle, to the path leading off to Hogsmeade.

As the first of the shops came into plain view, Tom breathed a heavy, laden sigh, seeing nothing out of the ordinary on the busy street. Winded as he was, he pressed on, ignoring the awful stitch in his side. He had to find Harry to be sure he was all right. He had left to venture here with that beast, Rubeus, who would be positively easy to spot in the dense crowd.

Moving along the street, faces blurred before him. He could recognise no one. His heart beat faster than it had while running; Harry was nowhere in sight!

"Tom! Oh, Tom!" Wearing a mink stole and high heels that clicked on the pavement; Walburga ran up to Tom's side and threaded her hand through the spot between his arm and body. Pulling him to a halt, she pointed to the boy standing awkwardly beside her. "Have you heard about Orion and me? I suppose I should thank your brother," she said in a sly wisp. "We've been betrothed. Yes, he's a bit younger than I am, but look at this ring!" She thrust her hand out and wiggled her fingers around to show off the huge diamond ring she was wearing.

Tom was thrown off-kilter by her words, understanding nothing. There was only one thing on his mind, and hearing the word 'brother' dropped him quickly back down to earth. "I… er, what?" he said, looking at both of them with bewilderment. "Wonderful, congratulations and all that. Have you seen Harry around?"

Walburga pulled away and looked over her shoulder. "Right old trouble-maker, he is… He's probably in the cafe with his hands in some slapper's knickers." Orion snickered sycophantically out of the corner of his mouth. "Oh, look who it is," she sing-songed, pointing to two podgy girls and one very gangly looking boy making their way through the crowd to enter Honeydukes. "Moping Myrtle and grotty Mina. They're always following Harry around like dumpy little puppies. Why don't you ask them?"

With a nod, Tom parted the students to reach them, gripping Bulstrode by the shoulder. Myrtle and the boy, Filbert Fawcett, stopped beside them. "Hey, where's Harry?"

Both girls cringed. "I d-don't know!" Mina stammered, wavering, unsure as to why she felt this sudden bout of nervousness around the Prefect. He was angry with her… something… she couldn't remember. "Haven't seen him once."

Myrtle shared her reaction and slowly scooted her way to the entrance to Honeydukes. She did not feel at all comfortable sitting under his fierce glare and set jaw. Tom looked wild-eyed, as if something had really upset him. "Might want to try The Three Broomsticks, Gaunt. He might have gone there with the Gryffindors."

If these two twats haven't seen him around… "What about Hagrid – have you seen him?"

Filbert nodded excitedly, having been given the chance to actually speak to the most popular boy in school. "Yes! I saw him wandering around by the Joke Shop a short while back!"

Tom gave Mina a shove off and moved on down the length of High Street without a word of thanks. He was far too tense, panting through his mouth, and his hands shook with adrenaline. If only there were some way to contact Nott and Avery, and put a stop to whatever they had planned! "I'm so stupid," he breathed unsteadily to himself, eyes darting to and fro over the heads of others to catch sight of the half-giant or any of his friends.

"Hagrid!" he nearly screamed, seeing the exceedingly large boy pacing back and forth next to an alleyway.

"Tom," Rubeus said, surprised. "Harry said you weren' interested in Hogsmeade!"

Tom's peripheral vision immediately picked out the flowing auburn hair and sharp purples of the robes encasing the man staring back at him. He turned his head and looked directly at Albus Dumbledore, who, in return, smiled at him and tipped his head. Tom clenched his teeth. Everything was falling apart. Where in the hell was Harry?

"Hagrid," he said, focusing again on the half-giant. "Where is he?"

Rubeus shrugged unknowingly. "I've been waitin' on him. We was talkin', and when I looked down, he up and disappeared. I reckon he went into Zonko's, on'y I can' go in… been banned from there."

Tom glanced back at Dumbledore worriedly. The man's happy façade had faded. He could go to him, ask him for help. Surely, someone like Dumbledore, who as powerful as Grindelwald, would know how to find Harry. No, wait! If he did, he'd have to tell Dumbledore what was happening. He could not risk losing Harry this way, but he could chance losing Harry if he got hurt, too.

"Afternoon, Tom."

Tom jumped. "What?" he cried, caught again off guard. Albus was now standing right in front of him.

"Is something the matter?"

"No," Tom said quickly. "Er, you haven't seen Harry around, have you?"

Albus adjusted his glasses as he looked around the area. "I'm afraid I haven't. Is there something wrong, anything I should know about?"

"Course not. I was just looking for him," Tom snapped. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him, to admit to being a sneaky git who couldn't control his own emotions and had set loose the hounds upon his brother. This had more to do with merely conceding to Grindelwald's nemesis, this was his brother's fragile existence dangling from a thread. "Professor, that's not exactly the whole truth… I'm worried about—"

"Well, there 'e is!" Hagrid shouted.

Tom whirled around, seeing Harry emerge from the alleyway. He was holding something in his hands, looking curiously back at the trio. "I found a snake," he chirped, holding up a beautiful specimen wrapped tightly around his wrist. "I heard her—ouch!"

Before he could finish, Tom nudged Harry's shoulder to shut him up. He'd be damned if he was going to let the boy slip up and give away any unneeded information about his ability to talk to snakes in front of Dumbledore, of all people. "Where have you been?" he growled, and carefully looked Harry over for any obvious signs of brutality. "I was so sure you were in trouble… had this feeling… I don't know, never mind." He had to shut his own self up now, take a deep breath, and not give off the impression that he was a sodding worry-wart in front of everyone. He hid his hands, clasping them behind his back to hide the residual shaking. Looking like anything less than a proper wizard, especially in front of Dumbledore, would never sit well with him.

"My boy, that's a mighty dangerous snake you're handling there," Albus commented, looking down at the serpent over his half-moons. "I wouldn't want anyone to be bitten, or set on fire."

"Oh, you don't have to worry, Professor," Harry said proudly, smiling back at the man. "I'm not going to keep her, and she has no desire to stir up any trouble. I heard her moving around in the grass and she saw my bite marks here." He pointed to the two small, silvery scars adorning his hand, and ran a slender finger along the length of the serpent's scaly spine in a loving manner. "Snakes are very observant and curious creatures."

"Tha's an Ashwinder, Harry!" Hagrid cried with fascination. He nearly swooned in place with adoration for his best mate's ability to handle such a frightening reptile. "You can ask it ter tell i's friends not ter torch the you-know-whats anymore!"

Tom's stomach knotted up. Harry's big, fat mouth was going to land them in deeper hot water. Hagrid the half-wit obviously knew about their special ability.

At least Harry was safe. Yes, safe…

Albus tipped his head in appreciation. His eyes twinkled with a newfound interest in the boy. "And she perceived you as no threat, as the mark on your wrist entails. The bite of a viper without it delivering venom is quite a significant story in its own, Harry."

"Right, well," Tom hastily interrupted, plucking the snake from Harry's hand. Albus studied the two boys' actions. Intriguingly, neither of them seemed to hold any fear for the poisonous and flammable beasts. Tom set the snake on the street and waved it off. "We should head back, Harry. There's something important I need to talk to you about."

"I haven't gotten a gift for mummy yet – Tom!" Harry protested, as he was grappled and dragged away from the others. He waved a quick good-bye to Hagrid and disappeared into the crowd.

As final exams were well underway, most every student busied themselves with studying their subjects. The warm weather had brought most of them outside to relax in between, or sit under the trees with texts propped on their knees. Harry was no exception. He and Hagrid had spent the better part of their day lounging by the lake, skipping rocks between course studies for fun.

Tossing a skipping rock as hard as he could before falling back to the soft grass, Harry sighed. He flipped through his Arithmancy book with a troubled look. Tom had promised to help him study again, but had yet to arrive and Harry was dying to talk to him. The trouble he knew might stir up again at the end of the year just jumped out and slapped him in the face. "I got another detention."

"What for now, school's nearly out." Hagrid said, and tossed a jagged bit of limestone into the lake. "Don' tell me it were Dolohov again… yeh need ter stay far away from him."

"I know, but I really hate him," Harry replied, shrugging.

Hagrid shifted his girth, propping himself on an elbow to be more at Harry's eye level. "Yeh shouldn' say tha', Harry; hate's a strong word."

"Well, I do… I fucking hate him." He grabbed another rock from the pile and chucked it as far as he could. "He's no better than you or me, and you saw what he tried to do at Hogsmeade! He was just too bloody stupid to get a hex off properly."

"Is tha' what the detention's for? I'll testify that he struck firs'!"

Harry shook his head. "It's not. He was assisting Professor Slughorn in potions class today and spiked my cauldron with some sneezewort, so I dumped it on him." He stifled a laugh as Hagrid did, until neither could contain themselves. They burst into laughter and fell back against the earth, feeling very vindicated. "You should have seen him, Hagrid; he couldn't remember his own name for a moment and was running around in circles with smoke coming out of his ears. He looked like a great big choo-choo train."

"Yes, very funny."

Harry and Hagrid froze and looked up. Tom was standing over them, scowling. "Shouldn't you be leaving, Hagrid?" he asked darkly, and Harry's jaw dropped open.

Hagrid stood up and straightened his shirt. "Righ', see yeh aroun', Harry."

"You don't have to go—Tom, you bastard—Hagrid, wait!" But Hagrid walked off, tossing Harry a brisk wave as he moved away from the path. Harry pursed his lips while Tom situated his robes over the grass for a proper place to sit. "He's like… my last friend, you know. Could you please try not to frighten him off? You're such an idiot."

Ignoring him, Tom grabbed up the Arithmancy textbook and began reading over the index. "So what parts are giving you trouble now? I thought you understood it well enough the last time we went over it."

"I suppose I should just get it out right now," Harry said haughtily. Tom looked up from the book, cocking an eyebrow, and Harry's eyes drifted off toward the lake as he rubbed briskly at his scar. "I'm in trouble again."

Snapping the book shut with a bang, Tom's huffed. "I knew it. You can't fucking control yourself, Harry. What in Merlin's name have you done now?"

"It doesn't matter. We've got bigger problems than that."

"Like what?" Tom hissed.

Harry was twisting his jumper in his hands and chewing liberally on his lip. He pulled his knees into his chest, hugging them for comfort. Detentions were one thing, but murder was something altogether different. He had felt this encompassing sense of dread all afternoon. Something very bad was going to happen. "Merrythought made me stay after class today and told me she wants me to come to the headmaster's office for some sort of meeting tonight. Do you think it might have anything to do with my mummy being in the hospital? Maybe they checked up on Morfin."

"Stop worrying about it," Tom warned him.

"But we killed someone," Harry whispered frantically.

"Is that what's bothering you? Is it really getting to you, Harry? Big deal, I killed a man and his disgusting parents… they deserved it. They wanted to keep you from me and mummy."

Harry shook his head. "I know… I just don't want you to go to prison. I don't want to go to an orphanage either," Harry admitted, looking down in his lap.

Tom froze, his breath caught tight in his throat. He skipped right past it… Harry didn't care that he had murdered the Riddles… There was a feeling of pure, unadulterated elation that began to flow through his bloodstream, moving along every part of his body until it curled the corners of his lips.

Harry was rubbing his scar while emulating Tom's wicked grin. Their eyes locked.

"I've done worse," Tom confessed with caution, studying Harry very carefully. "A lot worse." He expected Harry to scream, to bolt off screaming and yelling—but he didn't.

"I know, Tom."

"And I like it… I'm not going to stop."

"I know, Tom."

Harry had to admit to himself, at last, that not everything was black and white, and regardless of the lives that were destroyed in the process – a little selfish part of him was glad. It hurt when he realised that Tom was not the white-winged angel Harry always thought of him as, but at the same token, his results had set them free. No one was pure, except maybe Hagrid, but no one else. Everyone had their flaws. "I don't like it, but I don't hate you for it."

Tom smirked darkly. "And I'll kill anyone else who tries to tear us apart, anyone who gets in our way… they will die just like Mr Riddle," and then paused before adding, "I love you."

And that clinched it. The euphoria swelled and swirled around Harry's heart, plunging to his nethers. Fuck, this is so wrong… He wanted so badly to listen to reason, to answer the calling in his heart that would fight against this sin. Good was always better than evil, and Harry was not inherently evil. This was madness! How could hearing Tom utter something so wicked feel so fucking good? It was sexy, unbridled, and raw. They had spent their whole lives surviving, and the stakes were only growing. All they had was each other; he had his way, Tom had his, but both melded as one in the end.

"I love you, too, Tom."

"I know some things that maybe I shouldn't. If we stick together, nothing can stop us." He took Harry by the shoulders. "I did pretty well with altering Morfin's memories, there's no reason I can't get Headmaster Dippet to see my way of thinking on this matter. Let me do all the talking, okay?"

Let him talk; let him take him – heart, mind, soul – whatever he wanted. Harry felt the reassurance in Tom's words and expression push the worry aside. "Course," he said.

Standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, watching the two boys walk arm in arm toward the castle, Draco Malfoy snorted. "I see we're not needed after all. Someone's growing up."

The tall, masculine man standing beside him chortled in return. His jet black hair flowed softly in the breeze. He was swathed in a handsome suit and clutched a brimmed hat, prepared to take on the mistakes the boys had created for themselves. Instead, he watched them form as one to conquer this conundrum; and he was pleased. "I grow more impressed with each passing day. I feel it in my heart; guilt, empathy, worries. He understands, Draco. It's only a matter of time. He... I love Harry. I can feel it growing so strongly."

"Is that why you've changed, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord smiled. His eyes, flecked with brilliant scarlet flickered with life. "I do now understand that there is only the need for one Horcrux. Yes, only one…"