Do you guys like it when I do other character POVs? Do you want me to keep doing them? And if so, any requests?

Chapter 91:

Harry looked away, feeling inexplicably embarrassed.

The reasons for his argument were too Gryffindorish…too…expressive in their intent. Sure, he cared about Tom, and didn't tolerate Dumbledore making him out to be devil spawn, but he didn't want Tom to know that he was arguing with the light lord on his behalf.

It was too…too something, because that was eloquent! Sometimes he really wished he had the other's way with words.

The Slytherin Heir was still studying him, gaze piercing his skin like shards of some precious jewel to cut through bone and muscle alike to see the truth of things. Harry sighed, heavily, folding his arms.

"Correction," he said. "I don't want you to know."

"Since when have I ever cared about whether or not you want to tell me something I want to know?" Tom returned, smirking, though his eyes were serious. Harry scowled.

"I walked out on Dumbledore. He's pissed off," he said shortly. Instead of looking appeased, Tom seemed even more curious than before, taking a step towards him, head tilting in his scrutiny.

"Why did you walk out on him?"

"For reasons which are my own," Harry replied, shaking his head. "I have homework."

Tom was silent, before he abruptly rose to his feet, heading towards the dorm.

"Come."

Harry felt his arm give a light tug, and almost growled in annoyance and fury.

He followed, knowing he would look even more ridiculous and helpless getting dragged along the floor, and then he'd have to explain why Tom could do that.

Bloody Slytherins who backed you into corners.

Bloody Dark Lords.

He slammed the door shut behind him, hearing a mutter of voices behind him as they did.

"I hate it when they withdrew to argue like that…"

"I know - I want to see what they talk about!"

"...kiss and makeup?"

Dumbledore paced back to his office, frowning slightly, his fingers clasped behind his back.

He shouldn't have snapped like that, shouldn't have been so pushy, so demanding…clearly Voldemort's more subtle masks were more effective.

He needed to give the boy space.

It was just so difficult, he could barely stand to look at the two of them, together. It was too fraught with memories, peppering his insides with bullets and scars of times past. Of his own story.

Of Gellert.

History had the most horrible way of repeating itself.

Didn't Harry see that it was all going to wrong? That, when this all came to an end, he'd spend the rest of his life trapped in the moments they had shared? Of course he would; the two of them were utterly fixated on each other, obsessed in their love…or whatever equivalent Riddle possessed.

He'd tried so hard to keep Harry from walking down this treacherous past, tried to remove all obstacles that could possibly lead to the same youthful arrogance as he himself had been attributed with. He'd been so arrogant, unflinching from the praise and the accolades, revelling it…just like Harry with his fame, high on the empowerment of his growing independence and self-awareness.

He'd thought putting him with the Dursley's, with obscurity, and yes, perhaps even neglect, would have been better, kinder, for the boy than to shape him in his own image or that of Voldemort's.

And yet, that happened anyway, inevitably - the second those two met.

Gellert Grindewald and Albus Dumbledore.

Tom Riddle and Harry Potter.

Sometimes he didn't see young Harry anymore, he just saw himself, a distorted snapshot of what he could have been or was - and that swayed his judgements and actions past repair, to an aggressiveness he hadn't known in many years, and didn't want to.

Every mistake the young boy made, was simply a reflection, an echo, of his own, and that made it even more difficult to resist the urge to pounce and deflect and forcibly tear everything in the mirror to pieces so he didn't have to look at it.

He simply couldn't bear it, to see it all clawed up to the surface, and yet again in the hands of the one who was supposed to save them.

To save them all.

Voldemort was nothing, this whole situation seemed little else but the cruel repetitions and ministrations of Fate.

And he had to fix it. No matter the means.

The Wizarding World could not fall into Darkness.

Everyone would get hurt - and Harry most of all.

Tom was sat down on his bed, casually, infuriatingly casually.

"You know, the arm thing is a really low blow," Harry spat, perhaps more angry because the teenager in front of him was the reason he was arguing with his extremely powerful and influential Headmaster…who could probably make his life hell, and who, by all rights, Harry should be on side with against Voldemort.

Maybe it was because he wasn't respecting Harry's right to privacy and silence when Harry went to such extremes to respect his.

The manipulation of the mark was in itself a mere nuisance, a sad fact of life he'd resigned himself until further research notice that told him how to manipulate it himself.

He looked away, too furious to meet the other's face, but knowing full well that he couldn't leave as well as he once could. He went over to his bed instead, (he was still so happy he actually had his own bed now!) adjacent to Tom's.

"You're annoyed," Tom noted.

"Great observation, genius," he returned flatly, still looking anywhere else.

He heard a tut, chiding, and footsteps as Tom crossed over, leaning against one of his bed posts, directly in his line of view.

"You know, if you're going to sulk about something, don't agree to it in the first place."

"I'm not sulking," Harry bit out.

"No, you're just avoiding my gaze, fidgeting moodily, sighing heavily and talking through your teeth in practise of a non existent school production, right?" Tom returned sarcastically.

"You didn't audition? Everyone's an actor when all the world's a stage."

"Stop butchering Shakepeare," Tom said flatly, before twisting once more into his sight, closer this time, resting the palms of his hands on either side of Harry's legs, face level with his own.

So much for personal space.

He flinched back slightly, feeling emotionally drained from his confrontation with Dumbledore.

The old man wasn't bad, he was just righteous and couldn't see past his own beliefs to see the validity of another's. Just because a method was different, that didn't make it wrong, or opposing.

"You know, I can't do anything if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Harry's eyes shot up at that, startled, before flicking away as Tom's own lit up with some emotion or thought he'd accidentally given away. He waited for the next words with some trepidation.

To his utmost surprise, Tom simply smiled slightly, before backing off and wandering back towards the common room. Harry blinked.

"You're giving up?" the words blurted from his mouth without permission.

Tom twisted to face him slightly, the smile vanished in the place of a smirk.

"I never give up, Harry. You should know that by now…if you don't have detention tomorrow night, then, you're having another Occlumency lesson."

Harry's expression froze.

"Tom-"

"It's not up for discussion. You gave me your word."

"And you said you wouldn't use them for anything underhand - which, using a lesson as an excuse to rifle through my mind, is."

"I don't know what you mean," Tom said innocently, before his smirk broadened. "Besides, I could legilimens you outside of Occlumency lessons if I really wanted to, you know that full well. At least if it's a lesson you get something out of it…which you vowed to attend. Would you break my trust in your oath?"

Because that didn't just effectively cut off any argument he could have made.

Damn it.

The Occlumency lesson loomed far too quickly, racing to meet him like a lover at an airport - but not as friendly.

Harry had the awful feeling that the lesson itself would, however, slow to an excruciating length of time. He was half temped to just not go.

But…he'd given his word, hadn't he? And he might need that capability to go against Tom's seeming 'trust' with something more important than his own wounded pride and reluctance.

That was how he found himself in the Room of Requirement at eight O clock, sitting opposite Tom on a sofa, eyeing the yew wand warily and tensed before they had began.

He half expected Tom to just break into his mind the second he walked in, to be honest, and that he hadn't was even more disconcerting.

"Okay," Tom began, "there are four different types of Occlumency barrier, with individual differences for every person in each - Emotional Offensive, Emotional Defensive, Stoic Offensive and Stoic Defensive. Guess which one you are, from what you did against Voldemort?"

Harry thought back, not finding it all that difficult to recall - getting your mind invaded was a rather memorable sensation. He'd concentrated on emotions, so…

"One of the Emotional ones," he said.

Tom inclined his head, whether in acceptance, agreement or acknowledgement that he'd answered, he wasn't sure.

"Do you know which one?"

"Do you?" Harry asked.

Tom shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

"I wasn't in your mind at the time," he replied. Harry arched his brows.

"But you have a theory as to which one I would be," he persisted, certain of that.

"I always have theories," Tom returned, with a small smirk. "Now, answer the question."

Harry frowned, scouring his mind.

"What happens if I'm not sure…?" he questioned.

"Then my theory is proven correct," Tom said.

Harry folded his arms, curious despite his reluctance to let Tom in his head during these lessons, particularly now, when he knew Tom would shoot straight for what he wanted to know while he was at it, until Harry could accurately and consistently defend against that.

"Do tell."

"I think you use both - emotional defensive and emotional offensive," Tom said. "It's rare…but not unheard of, but it makes it more difficult than most for you to find your aptitude in the mind arts…which is why this whole initial process took so long."

"Is yours like that too?" Harry asked, on a hunch, knowing if Tom actually answered that he would have a better chance of being able to get past Tom's own barriers, if he wanted or needed to…which probably meant Tom wouldn't answer.

"In a manner of speaking," the Slytherin Heir said. "Different side of the spectrum though; I use both emotional and stoic, but all offensive."

Harry blinked. Okay…he did answer…Harry tried to clear the pleased shock before it could settle, lest it settle on his features for Tom's perusal. It seemed Tom picked up on it, anyway.

"Surprised I admitted that?" he questioned, with a knowing air, before it disappeared. "You're the one who said I should trust you more."

"I know," Harry replied, his throat suddenly dry. There was a pause. "So how do they work, then, the groups?"

"Stoic defensive relies on creating a wall around your mind, so to speak, with no emotion…a cleared mind and intent focus that reveals nothing. Case study - your professor Snape. One of the most difficult to pick up, but one of the strongest if used properly," Tom explained. "Stoic offensive again relies on not showing any emotion, and keeping a cool, cleared mind, but in this case you don't focus on defending your own mind, but lashing out at the intruding mind ."

"How?" Harry asked, leaning forwards.

"Varies for everyone - some may imagine spikes coming out in a mindscape, others a simple blast of mental energy to injure," Tom replied. Harry digested for a moment. "Abraxas uses that form," Tom added, offhandedly.

"Abraxas knows mind arts?"

"He's a Malfoy," Tom returned, as if that explained everything…which it kind of did.

"I didn't think you'd let anyone around you have the ability to block you out," Harry smirked.

"No one around me does. My Legilimency is extremely strong, and his mind is compliant to mine if I wish it."

"…the mark?" Harry felt sick.

Tom nodded, completely at ease. Another thing to look up, then.

"Does that work on me?"

"Betray me and find out," Tom said, with a pleasantness in his tone that was jarringly at war with the threat of his message, meeting his gaze for a moment. Harry held it evenly, before continuing.

"So, how does the emotional one work, then?"

"By using emotion, strong emotion, to either create a…mist…of feeling, or something similar, to lose the intruder in, to confuse them, to mislead them, so they never find your true mind."

"That's the defensive one?"

"Yes," Tom agreed. "The offensive uses emotions to attack the intruder, to bombard them with all your own pain and negative emotions, any 'repulsive' emotion."

Hermione would have loved all of this theory, and been at the books by now. Harry smiled slightly at the thought.

"And the rare ones?"

Tom's and his own? Tom studied him for a moment.

"Emotional and stoic means the fact that I will annihilate anyone unwelcome in my mind. Imagine an explosive, or a bomb…hard and 'stoic' on the outside, and if someone should break the surface, they re immediately torn into pieces by the emotions crushed inside the stoicism, or the explosive stuff inside the bomb. Those are what I throw at any mind who comes in contact with mine."

"But the intruder could go insane," Harry said, horrified. Tom smiled, coldly.

"That's the general point. They won't try again, either way."

Harry resisted the urge to shudder.

"And the defensive and offensive emotional?" he questioned.

"Up to you on the specifics," Tom said. "I can't tell you that, it's your mind...but from what I've gathered from the framework I've seen in your mind since using legitimacy on you post-Voldemort-" At Grimmauld. When he first came. "- you have the emotional barriers, to lose people in, the forming 'mist,' for want of a better term. Then, you also have an offensive side that, instead of just letting the intruder wonder around there for all time, will come out of the 'mist' to attack."

"If there's mist, then they wouldn't see it coming," Harry pointed out. Tom's eyes glittered.

"Just because you deny your cruel streak, doesn't mean you don't have one, especially in the face of efficiency. We both know that."

Harry looked away, uncomfortable, but completely intrigued at what his mind revealed.

"But this is your theory, isn't it?" he verified. "You don't know for sure."

"Not until we test it out - ready yourself - legilimens!"

A/N: I originally posted this chapter up to before the Occlumency lesson last night, then decided I wasn't happy with it, and took it down, for extension and something actually happening. So yeah, sorry about that. I hope you enjoy it J You guys prefer long to short anyway, don't you? Though they take ME longer to write…

Anyway. With my reward systems…any ideas for celebrating the oncoming chapter 100?And damn, I cannot believe you guys have stuck with me so far! Thank you!