(TW: Sexual scene in this chapter. Tom puts two fingers on Harry's hand and we're all screaming. Love that for us.)

So What, Three Days Grace

You can say that I'm going insane
And I'm not quite right and that I'm to blame
You can say that I'm sick on the inside
Bet you don't know I like it that way
You can say whatever you like
If it's so wrong, I don't want to be right

So what if I'm crazier than crazy?
So what if I'm sicker than sick?
So what if I'm out of control?
Maybe that's what I like about it

So what?

He woke up alone, in the dark, in the little house, jarred.

"Did- what was that?" He asked out loud, pulling himself off the floor.

"He gave in," Tom said.

He could feel him recalculating, focusing on his thoughts and not on Harry.

"Does that mean we do that more often? When? He barely spoke."

Tom didn't answer and didn't seem to register that he said anything as he made his way to the wards, repeatedly looking over his shoulder.

He Disapparated and straightened himself outside the castle wards, casting a Tempus. One in the morning. He made his way across the bridge and through the quiet halls, fewer Death Eaters on patrol at the early hour. Cassiopeia was waiting outside the Room of Requirement and huffed when she saw him coming.

"What the hell took you so long?"

"Er, I… Fell asleep." He noticed that she had the chest he'd taken with him to Skulmadras, and the extra supples Narcissa had given him before the festival.

"Fell asleep? You fell asleep?" She waved her hand at where his door should have been, and he paced to summon it. She hovered the chests in and sat them down, then she spun, grinning wide enough to scare him.

"Oho, we've got the upper hand now," she shook him by the shoulders.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"He needs you now. He's admitted it. Not with his words, but you know Tom. You're the one sitting on the floor, but you're moving on up in the world."

"I don't even know- has he said anything to you? Did Ginny tell you he caught me in his head? Did you tell her I'm alright?" He sat down in an armchair and rubbed his face. Her letters were still on the table, making him feel guilty.

"She did; a new trick of his. He hasn't said much to me, but Nagini's been hard at work, I hear. I'll fucking bite him if I hear one more tantrum. So. She's taking the lead on that. I told Ginny you're fine."

"Right. It would be nice to know. You know. Anything," Harry said.

"Oh, psh, locked out of his head for five seconds and you're blind? Come on. It's not hard to guess where we go from here," she said, still standing, still grinning, crossing her arms.

"…Where?"

"Yeesh. Tom? This your brains? From here, you go when he calls you; you settle the little beastie in his head, and we train it. Like you're a treat dispenser. No, I like that analogy; don't give me that look. This is good, Harry. So crestfallen."

"Was the deal secured with the vampires?" Tom asked.

"Yes. Reasonable terms, too. He doesn't like to hear that you were instrumental, but I'll keep saying it because it's fun."

"Eris filled the tent with dead rats," Harry sighed heavily.

"Pardon? What?"

"To hear everything I said," he watched her face. "He knows about Tom. He knows about… A lot."

She bared her fangs, jaw wide, "So, we kill him?" She asked, pointing at the door.

"Yes," Tom said.

"No," Harry said, "Ginny."

"Why would we kill Ginny? Joking, I'm joking, Jesus," she grimaced at him, "Stop giving me problems. Shit. I'll… Look into it."

"Don't tell Voldemort. Or Cedrum."

"Why the hell would I tell Widrich, Harry?"

He shrugged, then said, "I dunno. I want to go to bed," he stood and herded her out. She sighed but let him, talking as she went:

"I've been asked to tell you that you're expected at meetings. By Nagini, not by him. He wants you to show up looking like a jackass. So, get dressed when it burns, yes? Nurmengard gear should do."

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah. Guessed as much."

'So,' Harry began in his head, then out loud when she was gone, and the door was shut, "Do you feel better, or is it only when…"

"It lingers somewhat, not a great deal. I almost find it worse," Tom said.

"Oh. How often do you think we'll need to go?"

"I don't know."

Harry collapsed into his bed and couldn't decide if he was pleased or terrified about their apparent victory.

As soon as his eyes opened, triggered by the sunrise, his mind was on the night before.

'It's intense, isn't it? You feel it the same, right?'

'Yes, Harry.'

'It kind of reminds me of Liquida Tenebris. When we- I was first casting.'

'I see that.'

'…What?'

'Nothing,' Tom thought, though Harry could hear the gears moving in his head.

'No, what?'

Tom unbuttoned his shirt instead, the curse looping from his fingertips, making his heart skip. Tom smirked, rolled out of bed, and headed for the shower. He screwed up his face as Tom removed his shirt and ran the water.

'Was there something you wanted?' Tom wondered.

Harry knew he knew he had an erection, so he raised an eyebrow at the shower wall. His hands unbuttoned his pants under Tom's control, and darkness curled on his fingers again, making him gasp as it brushed his pelvis, the ache blossoming into his abdomen and leaping his stomach. He slowly undid the buttons, each time ensuring the curse grazed lower.

He moaned as he was freed from his pants, gripping the wall and biting his tongue as the bathroom filled with steam.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are reactive?" Tom asked in Parseltongue, earning another moan that Harry didn't understand.

"Someone has," he hissed, gasping as Tom traced the top of his cock with the pain, the other hand coiling into his hair, gripping tight and forcing him to lean back. He tried to rock into Tom's hand, annoyingly not wrapped around him, enough to make him whine.

"Tom…" He kept reaching, his voice several octaves lower, "Please."

"Please, what?"

He whined again, closing his eyes as his fingertips finally made contact.

"Please, I'm so- can you just…?"

"What do you want, Harry?"

"Please," he said again, pressure building as he tried to find more friction, still withheld. He fought to take over his hands and Tom fought back, smirking, yanking his hair.

"Tom, seriously-"

He retracted his hand entirely, "Say it."

his heart hammered with adrenaline at the words on his lips, his desire finally outweighing his nerves, "I wanna cum. Please. Tom. Make me cum," he switched back to Parseltongue midway and got what he wanted.

Tom groaned and squeezed his cock, spreading the curse down his thighs and up his stomach as he yanked his hair. Harry bucked his hips three times, went rigid and gasped, loud in the tiled room.

Tom didn't let him go, holding him tight as shudders of bliss and agony radiated through him, leaning against the wall for support, yelping until he struggled and was let free. He climbed into the shower, red-faced, unstable on his feet, and silent.

Tom took them running first thing— even though the clouds were threatening rain—when the map showed that Ginny was still asleep, somewhat unsurprisingly, in Avalon's bed in the Slytherin dormitory.

His thoughts wandered as his legs moved, running along the edge of the lake and back again, avoiding the Death Eaters but observed by them regardless.

Tom silently watched him think about the web he'd seen in his mind, how it felt and what it meant. Tom stopped running and used a low enough branch for pull-ups, pretending Harry wasn't locked in the thoughts he was stuck in. He got to five before Harry asked:

"Can I see it again?"

"Not right now," he responded in Parseltongue.

"Why not?" He scoffed on the seventh.

"I am busy," Tom said.

"Busy?" He dropped midway through the tenth, "Now you're not."

"I did not mean the tree."

"What did you mean? Are you planning something? What? What are you doing?"

'Get back to running,' Tom thought, closing his mind tighter as though he suspected Harry might launch an assault.

He did as he was told, frowning as he did one more circuit. He stopped to check the map and found the new students, Ginny and the Slytherins, moving to the Room of Requirement, where he wasn't. He collected his bag and robes and ran back to the castle.

Several dozen staircases later—taken at a steady jog at Tom's command—he met them outside the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, sweating and out of breath.

"Oh, there you are," Ginny said, "We're going to show them the Vivarium."

She gestured at Pollux, Ruby, and Reed.

"I'm so excited; Pansy said there's a dragon in there!" Ruby said.

"Is there a dragon in there?" Harry asked as they began walking, still trying to breathe.

"Is there a dragon in there?" Pollux repeated, mimicking his tone perfectly, seeming uninterested in the answer.

"Were you running? People say there's a dragon in there, but I haven't seen it. Luna says to just ask Rookwood, but he creeps me out," Ginny said, and Harry nodded to answer her question.

"I'll ask him," Draco said.

"There is a dragon in there," Pansy insisted.

He avoided Eris' eyes as usual, content that neither Avalon nor Ginny noticed anything amiss, and consoling himself with the knowledge that it wasn't over. They took the stairs that he'd taken three times already, using the bell tower exit to come out near Hagrid's hut. Guilt would ring his neck every time he looked at it, still unsure of the fate of any of the staff taken hostage.

'Would he kill Hagrid?'

'We have history.'

'I know.'

'Yes.'

'Do you think he did, though?' Harry wondered, sensing that he had more to say. It was beginning to rain as they walked, a mist that made the morning colder.

'Your Horcrux changes things. I am having a hard time predicting what he will do.'

'So maybe not?'

'Maybe.'

He let the others talk around him as he walked with his neck craned backwards to watch the hut vanish in the trees.

As they approached, a new Vivarium was under construction. A group of Death Eaters was working to expand the interior under Rookwood's command, who was swearing until he saw them.

"Oh, it's Sunday," he said to them. "Ah, you," he said when he noticed Harry, "Your dang bird is still in the sky," he gestured at the original Vivarium.

"Is there a dragon in there?" Draco asked.

"Let me know if you see one, aye, Malfoy?" Rookwood said, shooing them.

They entered single file, Avalon insisting the newcomers go last so she could see their faces.

It was bright inside—unlike the fine rain that had begun to fall on the grounds, the sun blazing in the sky, stinging his eyes.

"Your letters?" he muttered at Ginny while Ruby's squealing reaction occupied the others.

"Keep 'em," she said, then gave him a sad look. "I know they're there; I just… I don't know. What happened last night?"

He noticed that while Eris was looking at Ruby, Pollux, and an entering Reed, his eyes weren't focused.

"Later," he said.

"No way," Reed said, "No way, this is bonkers!?"

Harry turned away from the free-standing door and searched the sky for Buckbeak, finally spotting the Hippogriff circling over the water.

"Stand well back for a bit, yeah? I have to get him down," Harry said, walking to the cliff edge.

"A Hippogriff? You need to get a Hippogriff down?" Reed asked after him.

"Buckbeak!" He shouted, whistling.

He shrieked immediately, flying at speed toward him. He turned to be sure the others were staying a distance away. Buckbeak landed, kicking up the grass with his talons and chirruping, nudging him in the chest.

"Hey, you," he said, "Come for a walk with me? Into the trees?" He pointed, and the Hippogriff huffed.

"There's something really cool in there, though," he said, wishing the animal could understand him.

He took a few steps toward the trees and gestured for him to follow. He seemed offended, but Harry persisted, taking another step back and holding out his hand as though to pet him if only he were closer. Buckbeak huffed again and moved, strutting—definitely his choice, as Harry led him to the tree line, scratching under his chin as they walked.

When he got close to Iphine's enclosure, he called out in case anyone was nearby. No one answered; all the Death Eaters were constructing a new greenhouse outside. He unlatched the pen and left a nervous Buckbeak at the gate, stomping his feet. He opened Iphine's shelter and sprinted for the fence away from both, vaulting over it so he didn't get gored.

His beak had fallen open, still digging at the dirt. He made a strange noise, a rumble in his throat that she returned. She stepped out of her shelter, slowly approaching the Buckbeak until she stopped at the centre of her fenced area. He made the noise again, then bowed low, holding the posture for what felt like five minutes before the black Hippogriff followed suit.

Then they were both squawking loudly, closing the distance and tapping their beaks together. Buckbeak reared, turned back towards the cliff face, and kicked his back legs up, whinnying. Iphine sniffed the ground and took a few tentative steps out of her enclosure before they were both sprinting full speed out of the woods for the cliff. Harry jogged after them at a safe distance, rejoining the others to watch the Hippogriffs dive off, shrieking at each other. Iphine was stunning in the sunlight, like a void highlighted by the gold reflecting from her glossy feathers.

"Aw. That's so sweet," Pansy said, and Ginny hummed her agreement.

"Imagine baby Hippogriffs!" Avalon said.

"This is bonkers," Reed repeated.

"They lay eggs," Pollux said.

When the others tried to move the hall for lunch, Harry pulled Ginny aside.

"Your letters," he repeated, and she recoiled.

"I don't want to," she chewed her thumb and looked at Eris, still lingering in the library annex, holding the group up.

He didn't say anything, and she stood still.

"Are you coming, Ginny?" Avalon asked, starting to walk, pulling a scowling Eris along by his sleeve.

Ginny finally shook her head, "I'll catch up, okay?"

She frowned as she gnawed her thumb through the transfiguration courtyard and the entire ascent to his room. He paced to open the door and let her in first. She sat down, picked up the stack, and told him to sit.

"You don't want to read them alone?"

"Merlin, no," she tore the first one open without breaking eye contact. She looked down, holding her breath. She scanned it for a few seconds before she flinched and threw it on the table, her hand over her mouth.

She cleared her throat twice and said, "Charlie."

She opened another and was immediately sobbing. She tore the rest open quickly while Harry floundered, unsure if he should stop her, with no idea how she could read through the increasing volume of her tears.

"Gin?"

"It's fine I'm fine!" She said, swiping at her face.

She spluttered as she shoved the stack of open letters into his lap, then sat back down and covered her face, shoulders shaking. He glanced down at them and back at her, though she didn't unhide herself.

He scanned the letters, unwilling to delve into them, feeling like he was invading her privacy, though she'd pushed them into his hands.

—Ginevra Weasley, I need you to explain to me immediately why you were at that gathering! Not a word from you about it, said nothing to Hermione, nothing to anyone! Why would you be there? What were those robes? I need you to write back at once. Talk to Hermione this instant. The instant you read this. I have sent you so many letters! You've scared us all half to death! After your brother, Ginevra, please—

Your mother is very worried about you, Ginny dear, we all are. If you could let us all know you're safe it'd help us all breathe easier. We're here for you sweetheart—

Love, Dad

—What the hell were you thinking? Are you insane? He killed Ron! The Wizengamot might have let him off, but everyone knows it's true: he killed three people that morning, could have killed you, he proclaims himself a Death Eater, and you're there, in THAT place with him? Either you've been Imperioed, or you're dead to me—

Charlie

—We reckon you'd have to have a pretty good reason to do something bonkers like that, sister of ours, so we've decided to give you the benefit of the doubt, unlike everyone else at the dinner table—yikes! Please write back, we're beside ourselves really.

Fred and George

Mother says I should write. That I should convince you to come home. I have several questions for you, but I would prefer to see you in person. I have contacted the Hogwarts Headmaster and requested an appointment with you, though I have heard nothing back. If you could work to arrange it from your end, perhaps with the help of Potter, I would appreciate it.

Best,

Percy Weasley

—Mum says you need to talk to Hermione immediately, and I agree. What an insane thing to do! Do you even understand? Fleur says she thinks he was on Grave Dust; is that true? Were you? WHAT were you doing there Ginny—

—Bill

Tom read Percy's letter three times, narrowing his eyes, "Is Percy still employed at the Ministry of Magic?"

"What?" She looked up, frowning.

"Er, sorry. His letter is weird, right, Percy's?" Harry said, "Sorry," he said again, frowning at Tom.

'If I'm stupid, you're tactless,' he thought.

'I am so proud of you for admitting it.'

"What are you going to do?" He asked when she ignored Tom's question.

"I'm- I'll write mum. Tell her… I'm gonna tell her what the robes were," she whispered.

Then she was crying again. Harry stood up and summoned calming draughts with the darkness, gave them to her, and pulled her out of her seat by her limp arms, squeezing her into a hug. She broke down, shaking so that he had to hold her up, her face buried in his shirt.

"…After great pain, a formal feeling comes- the nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs- the stiff heart questions 'Was it He, that bore,' and 'Yesterday, or centuries before'?" Tom whispered into her hair, and she went still, though sniffling.

"The feet, mechanical, go round—a wooden way, of ground, or air, or ought—regardless grown, a quartz contentment, like a stone. This is the hour of lead—remembered, if outlived, as freezing persons, recollect the snow; first, chill, then stupor, then the letting go."

She looked up at him, eyes red. "Everything is a mess and…" she let him go and sat back down. "Tom Riddle is reciting poetry to me." She looked at him again, her brows drawn tightly together as she examined his face.

"…Thank you," she said, uncorking a potion, "What happened last night?"

Harry had hoped she'd forgotten for the moment. He groaned and sat down.

"When I told you that my Horcrux won't shut up, that he's driving Voldemort insane," he began, wringing his hands, "There's a way to make him quiet but… None of us were very keen on- on that idea, really. After he tried to kill me and they convinced him not to, Nagini and Cassiopeia won't let him…" he stopped to sigh, didn't want to tell her, "They won't let him kill us or himself, so the Horcrux stays, to keep him capable of- of love. So, we've—Cassiopeia, Nagini, Tom, and me, we were trying to-"

"Harry?"

"Physical contact. Shuts my Horcrux up. Last night, Voldemort… I dunno. Instead of murdering me for being in his head, he did it. Touched me," he realised how weird that sounded and held up his arm, red-faced, "…On the hand."

"…Remember days ago, literally days ago, when you said that there would be no more insane things?"

"Gin, this is- Yeah. I remember."

"Do you not think it unreasonable to ask, given the circumstances?" Tom asked, "We are trying to keep you safe."

She cleared her throat awkwardly and drank another draught.

(AN: Tom recites After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes, by Emily Dickinson.)