Papercut, Linkin Park

I don't know what stressed me first
Or how the pressure was fed
But I know just what it feels like
To have a voice in the back of my head

Like a face that I hold inside
A face that awakes when I close my eyes
A face watches every time I lie
A face that laughs every time I fall
(And watches everything)
So I know that when it's time to sink or swim
That the face inside is here in me
Right underneath my skin

Later that night he'd dragged his trunk and belongings all the way from Gryffindor Tower to the Room of Requirement manually, with difficulty, after curfew. It had only been a few days, but he already knew he would no longer be sleeping in the dormitory. Hermione hadn't said anything to him since the corridor outside the greenhouse, though he knew it wasn't over, and he was avoiding Ginny. It was too hard to look at her without…

And she had begun to be the target of whispers, and he knew that soon enough the whispers would be loud enough to hear. People assumed he killed her brother. His best friend. And she walked the halls with him.

'Maybe the best thing to do is… Warn her and…' He didn't want to finish the thought, but Tom picked up on it anyway.

'Is that what you want?'

'What does it matter what I want? She would be safer if… Have I mentioned I hate you for this?'

'Yes.'

'Not going to fight me about it?' Harry pressed, situating his trunk in the room, scooping the newspaper clippings off the floor, and throwing them on the desk. He opted to shower in the morning as he changed into pyjamas, avoiding the mark with his eyes, then collapsed into the bed.

'We both know it is not true.'

"It is though. It is true, I can't stand this, I can't stand you," he pressed his palms into his eyes and groaned, irritated.

"You are obvious, and you know it. Go to sleep. This is annoying."

"Obvious? What's obvious? The only thing that's obvious to me is-" The curse stopped him mid-sentence, summoned from the palm of his left hand and slowly spreading while Harry frowned.

"Even if I did- like it… It has nothing to do with you," Harry insisted, the black, spitting green curse winding up his wrist, stinging and speeding up his heart.

"Why do you think it is that you cannot admit that you just don't," Tom snaked the curse higher with each hissed word, paused to close Harry's eyes, "Hate me?"

He cancelled the curse before Harry could do it himself. He ignored Tom's question.

"Hermione said that she saw you- or, at Defence, she said the vampire was talking to you, that she singled you out and took you off to the side?" Ginny tried to be conversational.

"Have you had Transfiguration yet?" Tom asked instead of answering.

"Today," she said, looking down at her food.

Ginny had been outside the Room of Requirement; he'd seen her on the map as he lay awake; and so, they'd made their own breakfast table inside the room before the sun rose, asking Dobby and Kreacher to stock it.

"She… Cassiopeia, the vampire- she wanted to… Mess with my head," he was the most uncomfortable lying to Ginny, even when it was half true.

She nodded as though it made sense and was what she had suspected all along, making his stomach roll.

"Have you thought about what you want to pursue?" Tom asked, pressing about the necromancy even though Harry just wanted to shut up.

"I- I mean of course I have, I just-" She frowned, lowered her fork as her eyes trailed off.

Harry could feel Tom examining her, reading her thoughts without entering her head, "To go in the dark with a light is to know the light."

She stared at him for a long time, and Harry shifted uncomfortably, 'You shouldn't be so… You… With her,' he thought.

"Harry… When are you going to- tell me anything? I barely… It's like you're… If I were to," she stopped to clear her throat, eyes wide then averted, "If I… Practised I would lose so much- my family- I don't know if they could accept me if- especially if they knew about… Ron. And the other students, it's already bad enough with…" She didn't finish the words, but Harry knew she had been about to say that it was hard enough being seen with him after he'd allegedly killed her brother and gotten away with it.

"In two years, your classmates and their opinions will be inconsequential. If it were so that no one knew you were practising, would that ease your mind?"

"What does that mean? What do you even mean?" She shook her head, incredulous.

"If your family did not know… The other students…" Tom continued.

Ginny hesitated for a long moment, frowning deeply at him, "How?"

"Leave that part to me, yes?"

She nodded, brows still furrowed, and Tom smiled slowly.

Potions classes were suspended in the interim, which Tom said would anger the Dark Lord fairly considerably. Harry thought that made sense, he was a full-blown control freak. He could feel Tom wracking his mind for a solution to the problem Harry had caused on purpose.

Ginny had gone to her classes, but Harry hadn't, choosing instead to stay in the Room of Requirement, -which had irritated Tom- returned, after Ginny left to his makeshift bedroom. The ceiling was domed with gold detailing, the room itself was cream-coloured, with gold and glass accents. Harry had made a mess, Daily Prophet articles, books, and clothing littered the floor, desk, and couch. It drove Tom insane, but Harry didn't want to pick it up or use magic.

'How are we going to convince Cassiopeia to let Ginny practice in secret? How will that even work?'

'It is not Cassiopeia that we would need to convince…'

"You mean Voldemort?"

"And Cedrum."

"Oh, easy then."

"We want Ginny to be taught in secret. By Cedrum," Tom said with no preamble.

Cassiopeia leaned back in her desk chair and rolled her eyes.

"Well, as ever, you're very demanding. I'll ask, but Tom already has plans around Cedrum and his classes. Jesus this is so annoying. You'd think he'd just send you an owl but nooo…"

"What do you mean he has plans around Cedrum and his classes?" Harry asked.

"Oh, he wants it to be stand-alone, soon enough. Have Cedrum teach Necromancy exclusively once we find a better fit for Transfiguration. Oh, by the way, we've decided that you can't go to Hogsmeade on the weekends. Nothing personal, you're just fast becoming a precious little jewel," she tapped the desk with her sharp fingernails and smirked at him.

"Great. Fine," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"And he wants to add a Dark Arts class to the roster."

"It will be optional," Tom said immediately, before Harry could disagree.

"I'll propose it," she rolled her whole head, "Any ideas for the potions job yet?"

"No," Tom sighed, and she tsked then shooed him out.

'Do you think he hasn't come back to the castle because of what happened in the Scriptorium?' Harry wondered, back in the Room of Requirement. He'd changed the ceiling so that he could tell what time of day it was, enchanted like the Great Hall. Not as accurate as a Tempus, but far nicer to look at.

"Definitely," Tom muttered in Parseltongue, idly playing with the collar of Harry's pyjamas, trailing the corner of the fabric along his throat.

"Do you have a theory? Why he… Hates- us- me so much? I know I'm a problem, and I hate him too, so, mutual, but it seems…"

"Not a single one…" Tom hissed, his fingers moving past the collar and up Harry's neck, shooting goosebumps down his side, and startling his thoughts still.

"…Tom," he said, his breath caught in his windpipe.

He summoned the curse from his fingertips as Harry spoke, coiling just under his jaw and making him gasp, unbidden. His stomach rolled at the sound, not his reaction, and Harry sat bolt upright, "What- what are you doing?"

"What does it seem like I am doing."

"I- like, you're- I said I didn't want to- do that, you're in my head and it's… It's not happening. I can't. You're not. Drop it," Harry gained more traction at the end of his sentence, made slightly less impactful by how hard he was.

"That is fantastic news, Harry, we can go insane for all kinds of reasons."

"It's not that- big of a deal…" Harry said, though if he were honest it was starting to impact his functioning, particularly after casting, "Maybe it will just- happen in my sleep, or something."

"Like it has so far."

Harry could feel him trying to reign in his irritation. He was frowning heavily as he got up, trying to ignore Tom as he left the Room of Requirement, and took them through the castle, once again well after curfew. No one stopped him or followed him to the lake, where he dropped his belongings in the usual spot and set about doing as many sit-ups as he could manage, heart pounding before he started. He pushed himself further than he had before, needing to work harder to clear his head, harder still to clear Tom's, who was brooding until Harry winded himself running and collapsed near the water's edge.

He could tell Tom was less volatile, the whole weird episode finished, though Harry didn't think the uncomfortable argument was over. His mind wandered from it, and he found himself loudly and accidentally thinking about what he'd wanted to ask for weeks until he had to say it.

"When you were talking to Cassiopeia. The first time, the first ever time- in my body I mean- and she asked you whether we- or I, I mean…"

"Harry."

"Whether I could enter Voldemort's mind on purpose…?" Harry asked it in Parseltongue, somehow easier. His stomach kept rolling with nerves in the silence even though it didn't seem like he was going to get an answer.

'I think so,' Tom thought after an extended pause.

"And how would we do that?" His heart skipped several beats at the realization that Tom was actually answering him.

'All theory. I know how it feels when we are pulled in. Possible to replicate, with practice, but maybe not without detection or… Incident.'

'And if I wanted to try it?'

'I would unwisely agree with you.'

He could feel Tom pulling at the thread that usually told them when the Dark Lord was nearby, spooling it in as though it were fishing line as soon as Harry had finished the thought.

'I don't know if I meant… Right now,' Harry sat up and chewed his tongue, swallowing repeatedly.

'I did,' Tom reached what felt like the end of the cord that bound them, and his stomach jumped as they both hesitated.

'Is this a bad idea?' Harry wondered.

'I feel like yes,' Tom thought as he inched closer, feeling it out.

'You're still… Doing it though.'

'I have several questions he seems unlikely to answer.'

'I mean so do I but-' Harry was as alarmed by his ready acceptance as he was by his immediate attempt to do it, 'Has anyone ever told you that you're rash?'

'Has anyone ever told you that you're rash?' Tom repeated, still hesitating, examining.

He let out a shaky breath and willed them into silence before he sunk them into the cord.

'-ink you're worthy like you earned ANY OF IT like any of them love you WHEN YOU CAN'T LOVE THEM as if you're worth anything you've made him what you are you're a FUCKING MONSTER I'll watch you die die die die DIE DIE DIE you won't live forever you're nothing nothing NOTHING NOTHING-'

"Nagini!" He stumbled blindly, ready to claw out his eyes in the dark while he reached for her, didn't know where she was…

'You're sick and you've made HIM SICK and you think it's funny because you're FUCKING SICK SICK SICK HATTTEEE I HATEE YOU HATEE LET ME OUT LET ME OUT-'

Harry snapped back into himself, gasping, disbelieving, opening and closing his mouth as his stomach dropped.

Words finally came, in Parseltongue, "Tom. Tom- That was- That was my… Voice. Screaming. In his- in his head."

He could feel Tom's thoughts racing as fast as his heart was beating but he didn't share them. Harry watched them whip past while their frown deepened, and their breathing got shallow. He got the general thesis.

"You think… You think he's a- That he's my-" he couldn't say the word out loud, or think it, 'That's impossible. It doesn't make any sense.'

'It… Could.'

"Could? It could?!"

Tom was breathing hard, couldn't sit still. Soon, he was pacing, "It would explain why he cannot stand the sight of you, it- it- the Horcrux- is savage. If it- he… was like me, silenced, somehow awoken when you- used the curse the night of the Vow… Or… Some other way-" He stopped to try and breathe, lost entirely for words.

"That's impossible? This is impossible. I was a baby? I didn't kill anyone; I didn't make a…" the word was insane.

"This kind of magic is very… Open to interpretation."

He could see Tom's mind whipping, picking up the pieces and slamming them together.

"Creating a human, wizard Horcrux is not exactly… Advisable; it has never been done, to my knowledge," Tom was rapidly pacing by then, carving a path in the grass.

"I think- When I created the second Horcrux -the diary, I did not kill directly. The Basilisk did the killing," there was a long break before Tom's next words, but Harry felt them coming, nausea rising with them,"There were… Two deaths that night, in Godric's Hollow…"

"No," Harry said, stopping them, "No, that's not it that's not what happened Tom that's not it-"

"It could be that creating a Horcrux in you splintered a piece of your soul to… Make room," it felt like a placation, untrue. Not his dominant theory.

"You can't be seriously… Entertaining this… It has to be-" Harry tried, already flinching.

"Neither can die while the other survives…"

Harry made a mournful, uneven sound, and sat down hard on the ground. Soon he was rocking, fighting off tears, wave after wave of grief washed him; every step that led him to that moment at the edge of the lake marching on his head like soldiers, one by one, each taking his breath away.

"Why haven't- haven't we seen- it before… When I'm in his head why…?"

Tom didn't think about it long, "The Horcrux was pulling you in… Hiding from us when Voldemort discussed you. I cannot believe I did not realize…"

"You can't believe you didn't realize?!" Harry sputtered, almost laughing, humourless, "You're insane. This is insane."

"…It is how he knows where we are all the time… And…" Tom trailed off, again numerous thoughts flickered and vanished, before he began again, "When you asked me, at the manor, whether he loved Cassiopeia and Nagini… I gave you half-truth. Creating the Horcruxes… Came at a cost. I lost- among other things - the ability to… Love. It went- slowly. In pieces. Once I realized- it no longer mattered. It was happening, and I was not finished. When I discovered that Cassiopeia had come to him, I thought-" He took a deep breath, "She would know. If… He did or did not… Care. And if he did not... And then I- saw that he did. I should have known it then."

"Known… What? Wait, what?"

"He- your Horcrux… Gave him back the ability to- to love them."

"…What?"

"Four days after you cast Liquida Tenebris in his presence, we dreamed of Cassiopeia. Just over two weeks later, you met her."

"That doesn't mean that…"

"I think it is the only thing that it can mean."

"This is crazy. This-"

"Harry. In the Scriptorium, the part that felt 'yours'," Tom said, and Harry shook his head violently, stood up, yanked his belongings out of the grass and sprinted back to the castle as though he could run away from the Horcrux in his head.

"The part that felt yours, Harry, was yours."

"Shut up. Enough. No more please this is… Can't you feel it's too much I'm so tired can you feel how fucking tired I am," Harry hissed, leaning his head against the heavy doors.

'Yes.'

'Enough.'

'Alright,' Tom cautiously summoned the curse up his arm and Harry slid down the wood, collapsing on the stone steps readily.

Harry didn't stop him as he pulled the tendrils across his chest, up his neck, until they were inhaling it, blitzing their brain until there was nothing left inside it, eyes rolled back in their head. Harry responded by summoning it with the other hand, snaking it the same way, heart trying to tear free from his ribcage. Another desire, apart from the 'usual' masochism -more intense and less familiar- was building in his stomach as the darkness bit at him, lower, spreading down his torso. It was Tom who stopped it, suddenly forcing Harry to do the same.

Harry was red in the face as he sat up, realizing that he was still on the stone steps at a side entrance of the castle, that the sun was rising, and that there were Death Eaters behind nearly every door. He scrambled to his feet, grateful that Tom had stopped because he almost… Hadn't. He nearly questioned it; silently did by accident, but there was no answer, for which he was mostly glad.

His mind was at once clearer and more clouded as he returned himself to the Room of Requirement, Tom silent.