Excuse my attempt at poetry. It's my way of putting more feeling into it.
I was going for an emotional stew, so be warned xD

-x-x-x-

I can feel you so close
Yet you're so far away
This game is too painful
I don't want to play

You've made me your own
Now my heart can't rest
For you are the worst
And yet you're the best

I can hear your whisper
I can hear your call
And I never want you
To leave at all

We're forever entwined
Soul, body and mind
I hold on to traces
You leave behind

The nights are bliss
I awake with a start
I can't stand the day
Because we're apart

Somehow you are with me
But I wish you would stay
I can feel you so close
Yet you're so far away

-x-x-x-

Ron was waiting for him in the common room with his books and charts for Divination homework.

"What did Mad-Eye want?" he asked when Harry joined him on the couch by the fireplace.

"He gave us books," he said casually. "Apparently, Professor Sprout told Moody that Neville's really good at Herbology. And he thought I would like this," he dropped a thick volume on the table. "Magical Sports and Games. An extensive part of it is on the Quidditch World Cup."

Of course another extensive part of the book was on the Triwizard Tournament, which was the actual section that Barty instructed him to read.

They have just finished making up misfortunes that were going to befall them in the following weeks, when Hermione came back from the library to annoy them with her idea of house-elves liberation movement. Harry thought Ron was going to explode, when they heard a tap on the window.

It was Hedwig. Only then did Harry remember he had sent Sirius that letter, telling him about the scar.

Oh, no, he thought with a racing heart. A lot has changed since he wrote to Sirius. He has changed. The mystery of the hurting scar has long resolved itself, and in a way he was not ready to share with his godfather. He cursed himself mentally for writing to him about it in the first place. How could he be so stupid? And how could he forget about it? With trembling fingers, he untied the parchment from Hedwig's leg.

He read the letter, feeling himself pale with every sentence.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"It's Sirius," Harry whispered. "He's flying north."

"He's coming back?" Her alarmed tone only fanned Harry's rising panic. "Why?"

"Because I'm stupid!" Harry started hitting himself in the head, like Dobby would, when he did something wrong. "I wrote to him before the school year began and I told him I thought my scar had hurt –"

"What?!" Hermione exclaimed.

They both stared at Harry, horrified.

"But - he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who?" Ron asked. "I mean - last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," Harry said hastily.

"Harry, you have to tell Dumbledore!" Hermione insisted.

"No! It's fine, I guess I only imagined my scar hurting…" Harry never lied to Ron and Hermione before. It felt terrible. "I was having a nightmare and I woke up with a splitting headache… For a moment I thought it was the scar, but it wasn't. It was just a regular headache." His heart skipped a beat, as he wondered if his friends would believe him. Ron seemed to buy Harry's explanation. Hermione gave him a long, piercing look, but said nothing. "I shouldn't have mentioned it to Sirius. It's made him think he's got to come back!" Harry slammed his fist on the table angrily. "Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me!"

"Harry…" Hermione began softly, but Harry didn't want to hear it.

"I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

He rushed upstairs and into his four-poster. He needed Tom. He needed Tom to hold him. He felt so alone without him. There was a huge, aching pit in his chest. He curled up in his bed, hoping he would come to him in his dream. He did promise, didn't he? I'll see you in your dreams, he had said.

Sleep came at long last, and Harry got to see that lovely face.

"Tom," he said shakily, glad for once he could read Harry's thoughts and feelings, so that he didn't have to speak about them.

Tom considered him for a while, clearly catching up on what was going on in Harry's head. Then he simply opened his arms. Harry crashed into his chest, causing him to sway a little, but he quickly regained his balance and held Harry in a tight embrace.

"I've got you, my sweet Horcrux," he planted a kiss on the top of Harry's head.

Harry clung to him desperately. He already felt a developing headache from the scar, but he ignored it. He never wanted to wake up from this dream.

"I'm so stupid," he whispered, fighting back tears. "If Sirius gets caught, it will be my fault."

"Stop stressing about it so much," Tom gently pushed him away to look him in the eye. "Look, worst case scenario, they catch him and they send him back to Azkaban for a little while. And I'll break him out of there shortly after I rise back to power."

"Really?" Harry asked sheepishly.

"I have my loyal followers in there too, you know. It's not like I'm just going to leave them there."

Harry gave him a small smile, but then another thought disturbed him.

"But then what? Sirius will never join you. He'll never accept that I have. What happens to him then?"

Tom sighed. He looked at him seriously, contemplating his concern.

"I cannot tolerate him moving against me. But," he added quickly at Harry's panicked expression, "I can promise you he will not be killed… or hurt, by anyone."

Harry felt a wave of warmth and gratitude rush through him. It was comforting to know that once Voldemort took over the Wizarding World, at least his godfather would finally be safe.

"You shouldn't be so quick in assuming your loved ones won't accept your choices, though," Tom said. "After all, it wasn't so long ago that you claimed you would never join me either." There was no teasing in his voice. He was simply pointing out a fact. "And being on Dumbledore's side never did your godfather any favors, did it?" he smirked.

Harry pondered on the sequence of events which wrecked Sirius' life. Most of it was Wormtail's fault, of course. His mind went to Barty talking about the Cruciatus Curse and a thought flashed through his mind that if he ever were to try that curse on anyone, it would definitely be on Wormtail.

He saw Tom smirk, be he didn't comment on what he caught Harry thinking.

"Dumbledore let us help Sirius escape," Harry pointed out.

Tom snorted this time.

"How convenient for him."

Harry frowned, taken aback.

"What do you mean?"

Tom absentmindedly slid his fingertips down Harry's back.

"I mean he didn't have to testify for your godfather if he escaped. It was a perfect solution for the old man, don't you see? He made you feel like he helped, because he allowed you to free him, and at the same time he got exactly what he wanted. The prisoner escaped, so there was no trial. No trial, no acquittal, no legal guardian for you, and you stay with the Muggles."

Harry stared at Tom dumbstruck. There was no way Dumbledore could have actually come up with a scheme like this, was there? He couldn't possibly be this cruel…

"No… There was no other way… The word of three teenagers wouldn't convince anyone," he repeated what Dumbledore had said to him then.

"And the word of your teacher, who was there with you," Voldemort reminded him.

"He's a werewolf. People wouldn't care about what he has to say."

"Maybe," Tom shrugged. "But they would care about what Dumbledore has to say, I assure you."

"Still, I don't think that'd be enough."

Tom smiled at him somewhat with pity.

"You see, Harry, ignorance can be dangerous. You don't know much about Dumbledore, and that lack knowledge makes it easy for him to manipulate you."

Harry's stomach clenched both with irritation at the statement and the thought the same could be said about Voldemort. He could just as well be lying to him right now.

Tom chuckled.

"I could," he said with a teasing smirk. "But I don't have to. There's been so many lies in your life, it's enough to tell you the truth to win you over. But by all means, don't take my word for it. Check the records of Death Eaters' trials and see for yourself just how much was settled on Dumbledore's say-so. You might particularly like the case of my biggest traitor, Severus Snape."

"Snape?" Harry was only half-surprised Snape had been a Death Eater. It actually explained quite a lot.

"Yes," Tom's features tensed with distant anger. "You see, Dumbledore testified that Severus had been his spy before my downfall. That's how he avoided Azkaban. With absolutely no proof, but Dumbledore's word for it."

Harry's mind was spinning. If Dumbledore really had such power over the Ministry, then the only explanation for not standing up for Sirius, was that he simply didn't want to do it.

He felt betrayed. He already knew Dumbledore was just using him and planned for him to die, but this was too much. This was too cruel. He felt anger rising in him; a fierce, burning hatred towards the headmaster he once so admired. It was just a game for him. A cruel, painful game, in which Harry's life and everything he held dear meant nothing. It was all about manipulating him.

The hatred was replaced by a sinking feeling of fear, as another thought entered his mind – a fear it was just a game for Tom as well. To win him over, he said.

"Tom," he said shakily. "You've already won me over. I'm yours, okay? Just please… don't lie to me," he looked into Voldemort's entrancing eyes pleadingly. "Ever."

Tom held his gaze and tightened his embrace around him.

"I won't." he said earnestly. "I promise."

Harry pressed himself against Tom's chest and shut his eyes. He felt safe in his arms. He wanted to stay like this forever, but he could already feel his surroundings shifting. He clung to Tom's robes desperately, trying to keep him there a while longer.

He awoke with a start, clutching the sheets. A terrible feeling of emptiness poured into his heart. He could still sense Tom's lingering presence somehow, like a phantom. Voldemort did say once he would always be with Harry… but he wasn't, not really. Harry couldn't touch him, or hold him, or talk to him… he could only sense him faintly.

It was early; everyone else was still asleep. His gaze fell on the book on his nightstand. It was the book Barty gave him to read.

He felt the urge to go to the library and look up the Death Eaters' trials, but then he changed his mind. He would do it some other time. He should start on what Barty instructed him to read first. The young Death Eater was very skilled and smart. Harry would do well to do what he says and learn from him properly.

He snatched the book and turned the pages angrily, until he found the right chapter. He was done being made a fool of because of the things he didn't know.