Killing Me Softly

"He's not dead, mum!" Ron had assured her, his voice cracking.

"I cannot imagine the school year without Harry," Dean said, breaking through Ron's thoughts. Ron nodded sullenly.

"I cannot believe it's already September," Seamus said.

"Have you heard any news about him?" Neville asked Ron.

Ron sighed. "No," he said sadly, trying his best to avoid looking at where Harry used to sleep. "Professor Dumbledore tried to talk to...the attacker, but he couldn't talk for a long time. However, the attacker said that Harry was going to be okay."

"Did Professor Dumbledore see him?" Dean asked.

Ron shook his head. "And we haven't heard any more from the attacker since then. Professor Dumbledore is worried. He thinks the attacker is going to help You-Know-Who come back."

"How would he do that?" Seamus asked, looking shocked.

"I don't know," Ron replied, "but Professor Dumbledore has been running around all over the country asking libraries to pull out all of their newspaper articles on You-Know-Who and his supporters. He doesn't want anything to link the attacker to You-Know-Who." He sat on his bed, petting his rat Scabbers.

"That's why we have so much protection around the school this year, right?" Dean asked. Ron nodded.

"Professor Dumbledore doesn't want to risk any more students getting hurt," Neville said sadly.

"I heard the guards are going to do a complete search around the entire school," Ron said. "They're going to search every little corner in the school and in our stuff, even our clothes, school stuff, pets..."

"And one of our protectors is also our next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Seamus added. "Professor Lupin."

"Ouch!" Ron yelled. Scabbers had flown out of his hands and landed in the middle of the room, shaking. "What's gotten into you?" Ron asked as he bent down to pick up his rat.

"Must have had a nightmare," Dean suggested. Ron gave Scabbers another odd look before setting him on his pillow. The four boys didn't speak again as they finished unpacking and getting ready for bed.

Peter Pettigrew stayed in his spot on the pillow until all the boys were asleep. His body was still shaking, his mind still replaying the boys' conversation. If the guards were truly going to scrutinize every detail in the school, including everyone's pets, he was going to be discovered.

They're so serious about protecting the school that they'll want to check everything, Peter thought fearfully. They might perform a spell that'll reveal my true form! And then they'll know the truth of what really happened that night...

Ron was going to comply with the guards and let them check him; Ron had lost two people he was close to, so he wasn't going to complain about the guards wasting time with animals that have always been at Hogwarts. Suddenly Peter no longer felt safe being with the boy; if Ron knew who he really was, then he wasn't going to defend him once the truth was exposed.

Peter's trembling intensified. I don't want to go to Azkaban! I can't stay here any longer!

He jumped down to the ground, slipped out underneath the door, scampered down to the common room, traveled down a small tunnel inside the walls, ran through a secret passage where a couple stood kissing in the dark, hurried into the Entrance Hall, and slid out the oak front doors.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He was safer outside Hogwarts where everyone was going to see him as just a rat. But where was he going to go?

Master, Peter thought. He's still out there, hiding. I can help him, and he can protect me.

It's just like what I've suspected all summer, Fred thought as he studied a map laid out on his lap. In a secret corridor two dots stood side by side. One of dots had the name "Percy Weasley" next to it while the other dot had the words "Penelope Clearwater." She's been comforting him all summer. If Ginny was still alive, she'd never stop teasing him about having a girlfriend. He smiled sadly.

A third dot with the name "Peter Pettigrew" suddenly appeared in the corridor, and it was moving swiftly towards the couple.

Uh oh, Fred thought. They're going to get caught by this student! The dot ran past the couple right in front of them, but neither showed any sign of being startled or disturbed. That's weird, Fred thought; he looked for Peter Pettigrew, but couldn't find him on the map anymore. He folded the map and placed it under his pillow, wondering if it was just a flaw from old age.

Harry wondered what Tom was planning. During breakfast, he had requested that Harry meet him in an hour in the library.

"Come in," Tom said when he answered the door. He waved his wand around the doorway and stepped back.

Harry walked in. He was momentarily taken by the antique beauty of the room. An old couple watched him curiously from a painting on the right side of the room.

"What did you call me for?" Harry asked Tom.

"As a reward for you teaching me about love," Tom said, "you will continue your education of magic with me as your professor."

Harry's face lit up. "Really?"

"No. This is another one of my dirty tricks," Tom teased. Harry laughed.

Tom motioned for Harry to sit next to a table cluttered with spellbooks.

"Here are the rules," Tom said. "You will be allowed to use your wand only on my command. You will neither have your wand back nor get a new one." Tom gave his wand a slight nervous glance as though unsure if he should hand it over to Harry.

He still doesn't trust me, Harry thought. I have to teach him to.

"Let's see what you know so far," Tom continued. "Can you perform the Levitation Charm?"

"Yes," Harry said, straightening up on his chair. "It was the first spell I learned."

"Show me," Tom commanded. "Levitate this book." It took some effort for Tom to slip the wand into Harry's hand. He was standing very close, ready to attack Harry if he did anything he wasn't supposed to.

This was Harry's chance to start his own lesson. "Wingardium Leviosa," Harry said, waving his wand, and the book levitated five feet above the table. Harry set the book down, and quickly, before Tom could ask for the wand back, Harry thrust it back into Tom's hands.

"Thank you," Tom said, looking a little taken aback. He asked Harry to show him a Switching Spell. Again, Harry performed the spell and handed the wand back before Tom could ask for it.

They reviewed first and second year spells and potions for the next two days, paying attention to areas Harry had difficulty in. Harry made sure that every time he performed a spell for Tom, the wand was returned before Tom spoke. By the third day, Tom stopped Harry.

"Don't give me back the wand until I tell you to," he said, smiling faintly.

They began their first true lesson on third year spells. To Harry's amazement, Tom was a very good teacher. He was very tough and fussy about a spell being performed perfectly. Many times he would grab Harry's wrist and show him step by step how to perform a charm, and he would refuse to continue with the lesson until Harry performed the spell perfectly. He made sure Harry mastered everything he taught him.

However, what really shocked Harry was that not once did Tom consult a book. He could recite everything about a spell or potion with complete ease and confidence. Even more, he could rephrase any information in a way that could be understood by even the most dimwitted students at Hogwarts, and he constantly changed his teaching style to see which Harry responded to the best. When Harry responded well to being given a lot of examples and images, Tom made sure to include those in the lessons.

He's a true genius! Harry thought. It's no wonder his older self was such a powerful opponent . Harry was both impressed and jealous, but after reminding himself that his intelligence was perhaps the only thing Tom had going for him in life, he felt bad for ever feeling that way.

You really could have been a wonderful teacher, Harry thought sadly. Is this a reason you are teaching me? You want to make up for a life you took away from yourself?

Tom took teaching very seriously; he had even assigned Harry to do essays and homework, which Harry was not very excited about.

"Harry," Tom demanded angrily one day after reading Harry's first finished essay. Harry looked up. "What do you call this?"

"An essay," Harry replied, confused.

Tom snorted. "Where is your mind, Harry? This is the most atrocious trash I ever read in my life!"

"What? Why?" Harry asked. "I answered the question, didn't I?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "That's not the point! It's not professional, and you have no style!"

"But it's just a homework assignment!" Harry argued. "And we're not in a school!"

"You need to have good presentation!" Tom said angrily. "Don't you care about the image of yourself you are portraying?"

"Of course I do!" It suddenly occurred to Harry what Tom was talking about. "Everyone writes this way these days. There's nothing wrong with it. All my teachers accepted it."

"I don't believe you!" Tom said. He shook the essay in front of him. "This looks like it was written by a five year old. You are careless with your language and grammar. Its informality makes me question the quality of the modern teacher at Hogwarts for actually grading this. Why, when I was your age-" He suddenly stopped talking, and Harry snickered.

"Yes, grandfather?" Harry said, smiling.

Tom's eyes narrowed. "You are to rewrite this."

"But I worked hard on it!" Harry argued. "It's not like I'm getting a grade on it!"

"Who's the teacher here?" Tom demanded.

"You," Harry said, giving up. Tom set the essay in front of Harry, who looked at it with a frown. I worked hard on it... Sighing, Harry rewrote his essay in as much of a formal style he could muster, all the while thinking that Tom was taking this teaching too far. Stupid walking encyclopedia...

Lessons with Tom had its benefits. As Tom taught Harry magic, Harry secretly taught Tom trust. After a few weeks, Tom rewarded Harry by opening up more rooms for him to enter in the manor. Harry could now lounge in the living room whenever he wanted, and to his delight, he could freely go in and out of the bedroom all day and night. However, the first level was still closed off to him, but it didn't matter in the meantime.

Harry took advantage of his new freedom and kept out of the bedroom as much as possible. He alternated between studying and working in the living room and the library. At first Tom was reluctant to have Harry study in the same room as him, but he grew comfortable with it.

They barely spoke when they were in the library and not doing lessons. Every now and then one of them would look up to see the other boy submerged in his studies. Occasionally, their eyes would meet, and Harry would initiate a smile, which Tom sometimes returned.

At night, they continued their discussions on love. Harry got used to waking up in the middle of the night to answer Tom's questions. A couple of times they stayed up until the first rays of light broke through the curtains, talking about their lives.

"Tom," Harry said one day during dinner, "Can you stop getting all this expensive food?"

Tom stared at him, surprised. "You don't like this?" he asked.

"It's nice, but I'd like something more simple every now and then," Harry replied. "Like a peanut butter sandwich."

The following morning, Tom led Harry to the kitchen.

"I want this room cleaned up by the time I come back," he commanded before leaving. Harry did as he was told, pleased that Tom was listening to his suggestions.

He was groggy and feeling nauseous by the time Tom returned with several bags of groceries floating behind him.

"You don't look well," Tom commented as he set the bags on the counter.

"I think I lost my appetite for a whole year," Harry said. "I found a nest full of dead, smelly...things I cannot recognize anymore in the oven." He rummaged through the first bag and began unpacking. "Peanut butter, bread, apples," Harry mumbled to himself as he worked; Tom helped. The sight of the food was slowly making the queasy feeling in his stomach disappear. Tom had brought a lot of common food items as well as a couple of odd ones, which Harry had expected.

"Smoked salmon and artichoke dip?" Harry read one container and stared at Tom, one eyebrow raised.

"I tried the sample in the shop," Tom explained, smiling. "You'll love it."

Harry pulled out a glass bottle full of a clear yellow liquid. "Extra virgin olive oil," he read aloud. "What does that mean?"

"Their eyes have never fallen upon a man," Tom replied while stacking a cabinet with a couple cereal boxes.

"What?"

Tom laughed. "I am a wizard, Harry, not a dietitian."

One early afternoon, while Harry worked on his homework, he looked up to see that Tom had been watching him closely.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Tom said, snapping out from his contemplation. "You can take a break today, Harry. There is something I want to show you."

Harry set his quill down and followed Tom out of the library. To his surprise, Tom led him to the first floor; he stopped and turned around when he reached the front door.

He gave Harry a little smile before he turned the knob. He motioned for Harry to follow him. The moment his foot stepped outside the manor for the first time in months, Harry's spirits soared.

He looked up at the sky, taking in the beauty of the forest around them. The leaves were turning orange, yellow, red, and brown; some had fallen to the ground.

Harry bit his lip. "Er, Tom? What day is it?"

"The tenth of October," Tom replied.

"I've been here for five months?"

"Yes." He led Harry deeper into the forest, but Harry had trouble enjoying the view; Ron and Hermione kept popping back into his mind. Hogwarts had already started the new year; Harry would have been a third year...

I'm still getting lessons, he tried to cheer himself, and Tom is a very good teacher...but it would be nice to also have my friends around.

Tom stopped walking and spun around. He noticed Harry's frown, and Harry quickly forced a smile.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Harry said. A gust of wind flew past him, blowing his hair against his face; Harry smiled, enjoying the little sensation. "I really appreciate it."

Tom still didn't look convinced. "You miss those friends of yours."

"I do," Harry confessed, settling down on the patch of autumn leaves. He quickly glanced at Tom before lying on his back. "But I'm getting used to living here; I'm starting to like it."

Tom sat on a nearby large rock, observing Harry on the ground. Harry looked up at him, watching the way the wind blew at Tom's dark hair. His eyes traveled down to Tom's narrowed eyes and his slight pouting lips. He gave Tom a reassuring smile.

"I enjoy your company," Harry said. "You can be a little nutty sometimes, but I don't regret the good times we've had together so far." He turned back to the sky. "You know, I never really appreciated nature until I was cooped up inside for so long." He watched a songbird flutter about on a close by tree. "The birds here are really pretty."

"Yes, they're very beautiful until they drop a B-52 on you," Tom said. Harry laughed, and a smile broke on Tom's face, the tension finally broken between them. "Harry...your birthday passed without you even knowing. I wish to make it up to you."

"You want to get me something?" Harry asked.

Tom nodded. "Anything aside from leaving this manor."

There was one thing Harry really wanted, but he knew before he said it that Tom was not going to give it to him. "Can I write to my friends?"

"No," Tom said flatly.

Harry sat up. "Then can I have my old stuff back? I'm getting a little tired of wearing women's robes."

"Which means I would have to write to Dumbledore," Tom said contemplatively, looking more handsome than before. "I haven't spoken to him in a while; he might appreciate a letter to know that your heart is still beating. Anything else?"

"No."

Tom looked a little surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Bringing me out here was more than enough," Harry said. He gave Tom another smile. "It means a lot to me. Thank you, Tom."

Professor Dumbledore was surprised to find a pigeon waiting for him at his office, but he knew who it was from before he read the letter.

Professor Dumbledore,

You will be delighted to learn that your precious Harry Potter is doing well. Do not expect me to hand him over to you; I find his company quite intriguing, and the boy has shown interest in staying. Harry has requested to have his old belongings returned to him, and we would greatly appreciate it if you would send them by owl.

Yours truly,
T.M. Riddle

Dumbledore set the letter down.

By owl? he thought. Oh, no, Tom, I would much rather send it in person.

Harry heard Tom arguing heatedly in the living room. He peeked from the doorway to find Tom holding a mirror, and inside the mirror was Professor Dumbledore.

"Tom, what's going on?" Harry asked. Tom jumped and whipped around.

"Your dear headmaster wants to bring your belongings to you personally" he informed Harry angrily.

"I have every right to see my student!" Professor Dumbledore argued from the mirror.

"It's okay if he sees me," Harry said calmly as he took a few steps into the room. "He just wants to make sure I'm okay. There's nothing wrong in that, Tom. I promise I won't run away or anything."

Tom bit his lower lip, frowning, before he looked back at the mirror. "If you insist," he said acidly. He waved his wand around the mirror and took a step back. A few minutes later, there was a popping sound, and Professor Dumbledore and Harry's trunk appeared in the living room.

To Harry's shock, both wizards raised their wands at the same time, looking at each other with utmost hatred.

"Stop!" Harry yelled and he ran between the two wizards, stopping them from throwing curses at each other.

"Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked, studying him. He was floating an inch from the floor, and his body was faintly transparent.

"It's okay, professor," Harry said. "I have everything under control. Stay there!" he ordered Tom when he moved forward. Professor Dumbledore looked both impressed and surprised. Harry turned back to him. "What happened to you?"

"I cannot go past all of the wards set up around this building," Professor Dumbledore explained. "What you are seeing is just an image, Harry. However, I can fully function as though my entire physical being was present, and I can certainly cast a spell if I wish." He quickly glanced at Tom.

"I don't want you or him to cast any spells at each other," Harry said. "I just want my belongings with me."

"Don't you want to go back to Hogwarts, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked, surprised.

"I would, but I'm staying here," Harry said, surprising his headmaster even more. "In the summer, I would have to go back to the Dursleys, and I'd much rather be here instead. Tom's teaching me magic, and I'm being fed. Tom hasn't done anything to hurt me." Harry decided not to tell Professor Dumbledore about the immortality spell. "Everything's okay here. Besides, where would Tom go?"

"I can make arrangements," Professor Dumbledore said with a slight hint of malice. Tom's eyes narrowed.

"No!" Harry said. "I know what's going to happen. Believe me, professor, things could have been a lot worse! I'm no longer a hostage. I'm living here of my own free will!"

"Don't you miss you friends, Harry?"

Harry hesitated; Professor Dumbledore had struck a nerve. "I miss them terribly," he said, "but I want to stay here. I'm sure that sometime in the future I can visit them. Right, Tom?" He turned back and gave Tom a hard look. Just agree to it.

After a while, Tom finally nodded. Harry turned back to Professor Dumbledore, who still looked unconvinced. Please understand! Harry thought desperately. He's not a threat to me anymore! I've been gaining his trust, his friendship! I'm stopping him from causing trouble! He could have helped Voldemort, and he will try to do that if you hurt him! Let me stay with him! I'm keeping him in check! I have control over him! Please give me a chance!

Professor Dumbledore searched Harry's eyes. Suddenly, as though he had read Harry's mind, he nodded.

"I understand," Professor Dumbledore said. "You can stay here, Harry." Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"As if you could take him by force!" Tom proclaimed.

"Tom!" Harry chastised. He turned back to Professor Dumbledore. "Thank you, professor."

"After all, you are looking very well," Professor Dumbledore said. "I don't believe the meals at Hogwarts have ever improved your health as much."

"He seems to be responding quite well to olive oil." Tom said, then he laughed. Harry switched between staring at the two wizards, a little confused.

"You haven't noticed, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked kindly. "Your skin is practically glowing with good health!" He took a step back. "And you certainly have grown a lot in such a short time."

"Um, that's because Tom's been putting growth potions in my food," Harry quickly lied, hoping that Professor Dumbledore would not see through it. His headmaster narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but deciding that the growth was nothing life-threatening, he just nodded.

"And I really have been teaching him, if you must know," Tom said stiffly.

"Not the Dark Arts, I hope?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"I have been teaching him everything," Tom said. "I daresay he's improving better than he was when he was in your school."

"Has he?" Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry.

"Definitely," Tom said bitterly. "With a little aid on my part, he can finally brew a potion correctly. I believe his old professor never even bothered to correct him. I noticed that Harry has been repeating the same mistake, and I am sure his old professor was well aware of it but never bothered to help your precious boy due to a little personal dislike of his father."

Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I was never informed of this," he said. "I must speak to Professor Snape about this. Thank you for informing me."

Tom sneered gloatingly; Harry cringed. "I'm still bad at Potions," he told Professor Dumbledore.

"But you at least know what you are doing wrong, and you are fixing it," Tom quickly added before turning to Professor Dumbledore. "I question the quality of educators you have employed, sir."

"Your lessons must take quite some time," Professor Dumbledore said, choosing to ignore Tom's last comment. Tom nodded, and Professor Dumbledore looked relieved again.

Harry smiled, knowing what Professor Dumbledore was thinking. See? He's too busy with me to find his older self.

A screech caught Harry's attention. Hedwig was in her cage, hidden behind the trunk.

"Hedwig!" Harry cried out. He opened the cage door, and the large snowy owl hopped onto his arm. She gave him affectionate hoots and nimble his cheek and ear as he pet her softly. Tom watched the owl enviously. "Thank you, professor!" Harry said.

"My pleasure, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. He continued watching Harry a couple more seconds before he said, "I have accomplished what I came here for. Harry, in case I have forgotten to bring anything, you can send Hedwig to me."

"He is not allowed to send any owls!" Tom butted in.

"Then he can request for you to send an owl," Professor Dumbledore concluded. "I have no other reason to be here. Harry, anything you'd like to say before I head back?"

"Tell Ron and Hermione I said hi," Harry said. "Tell them I'm okay."

"Anything else?" Harry shook his head. "Well then, good day to both of you." He smiled at Harry. With a tap from his own wand, the mirror in his hand glowed, and soon Professor Dumbledore was gone with another popping sound.

The two students stood up from their seats when Professor Dumbledore reappeared in his office.

"How is he?" Ron and Hermione eagerly asked at the same time. Eyes twinkling, Professor Dumbledore looked the happiest they had seen him since last year.

"You shouldn't have said that to Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. He picked up the handle on his trunk and hoisted it up.

"I was merely informing him of his incompetence as a headmaster," Tom explained. He magicked the trunk so that it was easier to carry.

"I didn't think it was called for," Harry said as he dragged the trunk into the bedroom and settled it on the floor. He turned to Tom. "However, I liked the part where you trashed Snape."

"Good," Tom said, smirking a little. "I was beginning to wonder whether you were going to defend your favorite teacher."

Harry made a disgusted face. "Favorite teacher? Yeah, he's the simply the best, most kind person on earth!" Tom chuckled.

Harry cranked open the lid of his trunk and caught a whiff of a powerful smell that reminded him of Hogwarts grounds and the Great Hall. For a few moments, Harry just sat there, staring at his old belongings and feeling as though he just returned home after being taken away for many years.

It's like I was taken out of this life, Harry thought as he began picking through his textbooks and clothes. So much has changed in such a short time. He pulled out a pair of underwear and turned towards Tom.

"Would you mind?" he asked. Tom nodded and turned around.

Harry slipped out his robes and put his underwear on before pulling out the widest clothes from his trunk. He studied his body, taking in the effects of his weight gain. Now that Harry thought about it, he did look healthier. For the first time in his life, his stomach was no longer concave, and he couldn't see his ribs popping out of his sides. He felt more energetic than before.

When Harry was getting done dressing himself, Tom turned around and stared at Harry's clothes with contempt.

"Is that the best of your wardrobe?" he questioned.

"Yes," Harry said. "They used to be Dudley's. They're not that bad." Tom raised an eyebrow. "Okay, fine! They're a little tight on me right now!"

"I cannot believe you're abandoning Aderyn's robes for these," Tom said, shaking his head.

"Try wearing a woman's clothes for five months, without any underwear and always being yelled at by the painting for using them, and tell me how it feels!" Harry said.

"Let me give you something," Tom said. He went to the closest and pulled out one of Grindelwald's robes. He motioned for Harry to take off his clothes.

"But it's too big for me," Harry said.

"Just put it on," Tom ordered. With his wand, Tom trimmed the bottom of the robes and around the sleeves until it comfortably fit. "Grindelwald won't complain."

"Thanks," Harry said, studying his new robes. Turning back to the trunk, he pulled out his Nimbus 2000 and gave it a hug, grinning. He looked up at Tom, who was studying his trunk again.

"I know it's not much, but that's all I have," he said.

"What you have is far more than what I used to own," Tom informed him.

"Sorry," Harry said quietly, suddenly feeling guilty. He next pulled out the photo album Hagrid gave him in his first year. Walking over to the bedside cabinet, he took the newspaper clipping of his grandfather and slipped it into a free spot on one of the pages. Harry half-wished Tom wouldn't look; he didn't even have any photos to carry with him...

Tom turned his attention to Hedwig. "I didn't even have a pet," he continued. "The funding I was given was only enough to support my school supplies and a couple of secondhand robes." Harry tried to imagine having only the orphanage clothes to wear aside from the robes, and felt more terrible than before. "I told myself it did not matter if I owned an owl. I had no one to send letters to." Tom laughed lightly, but Harry kept frowning.

"Of course, as the years passed, I found myself writing more and more to professors and others. I only had the school owls to depend on." Tom bit his lip, hit by an epiphany. "No one in my social group bought me an owl even after seeing how much I needed to use one."

"Well, maybe they gave your older self one as a graduation present," Harry said, trying to cheer Tom up, but it didn't work. Tom gave Hedwig another envious glance before speaking again.

"Put your shoes on," he said, waving his wand around Harry's old shoes to make them big enough to fit. "I'm taking you out for today."

"Where?" Harry asked, brightening up.

"To the local Muggle town," Tom explained. "I believe another little reward for you is in order after being in here for so long and for mastering third year spells. No one from the magical world should bother us now that Dumbledore has seen that you are in good health."

"Speaking of which," Harry said, smiling, "thank you!" He ran up to Tom and surprised him with a quick hug. "I've always had a problem with being underweight," Harry explained, taking a couple steps back.

"Well, congratulations," Tom said unemotionally. "Now you're of average weight."

The moment they walked out the front doors, Tom warned Harry not to leave his side or else he would curse him. Harry complied, too happy to be back outside to argue. While Harry had been gaining Tom's trust, there was still work to be done. A couple of times Harry felt as though Tom was putting him through a test to see how much he could trust him.

The Muggle town was small yet a delight to be in. Harry couldn't stop muttering "Thank you" to Tom over and over. He wanted to spend more time looking around at the shops, but Tom pulled him towards one of the restaurants.

"Of course, you picked the most expensive one," Harry commented when they settled down, glad that Tom had magically altered their clothes to match the environment. I can finally see how he's paying for the meals, Harry thought.

They sat and ate in silence for the first half of the evening. Harry took the time to study his surrounding; he had never been in a fancy restaurant before, since his relatives never took him out to dinner. Paintings decorated the walls, and candles lit the room in place of electric lights.

Tom encouraged him to order as much as he wanted. At first, Harry didn't want to, but after being stuck with deciding between two scrumptious-sounding dishes, Harry decided on getting both.

At this rate, I'm going to gain more weight than I should, Harry thought a little guilty as he tucked into his lobster dinner. "How come you never gain weight?" he asked Tom.

"No idea," Tom said. "I believe it's either due to my metabolism or the stress level in my life."

"You shouldn't stress," Harry said. "Have you been doing everything I've told you to relax?"

"Yes, doctor," Tom said. The glow from the nearby candle illuminated his smile, heightening his attractiveness.

"You should relax and smile more," Harry said, grinning. "It makes you look very handsome."

"It's a pity my face took after my father," Tom said, and the gentle atmosphere between them tensed. "I would do anything to change my appearance."

Harry gaped. "Do you how many people would die to look like you?" he said. "Look at me, for instance. I look like a hedgehog."

"You're not that bad," Tom said, chuckling. "The little weight gain had revealed your charm."

"Thanks," Harry said, not believing him. He looked down at his plate, then looked up at Tom with a look of horror. "I...I just ate everything, and I'm still hungry!" He narrowed his eyes. "You're not magically controlling my appetite, are you?"

"I might be," Tom said casually. "I don't like seeing emaciated people. Would you like dessert?"

"Yeah, treacle tart, if possible," Harry said, feeling a little embarrassed.

Tom ordered their dessert and a bottle of wine for himself.

"Here you go, sweeties," the cheery waitress said when she brought their orders and the check. "Now, take care of your brother," she told Harry, indicating to the wine and Tom.

"I will," Harry said, inwardly laughing at how they were mistaken for relations. Tom paid the waitress for their entire meal by magically producing money from his pocket.

"The money's fake!" Harry hissed at Tom, disbelieving.

"Where else did you think I was getting it?" Tom asked. "I'm not secretly working anywhere."

"But you're harming their economy," Harry said, wishing he hadn't ordered lobster.

"Maybe I shouldn't have," Tom said mordantly. "I really care about the well-being of Muggles." He snorted and uncorked the wine bottle. Harry watched him take a couple of chugs.

"I hope you're not a violent drunk," Harry said.

"I was once told I pulverized an entire village and vandalized an old lady's house with my vomit after I had too many firewhiskeys," Tom said. "Bit of a shame I don't remember any of it."

"I hope you're just kidding."

"I hope so too." He grinned deviously.

By the time Harry was done with his treacle tart, Tom's cheeks were flushed and he was mumbling and giggling under his breath about World War II and Nazi soldiers. It was a little amusing to watch him at first, but when Tom ordered a second bottle and paid the waitress, Harry began to feel worried. What if he doesn't stop at two? He jumped up and hauled Tom out of the restaurant.

A first Tom resisted, but when his eyes fell on the forest not too far away, he cackled drunkenly and broke from Harry's hold. He ran into the forest, and Harry chased after him. Harry could hear Tom shrieking with laughter and yelling obscenities into the night sky. When he caught up to him, Tom had tripped over a tree stump.

"Tom, are you okay?" Harry asked worriedly as he helped Tom upright again. Wine had spilled from the bottle, but Tom didn't seem hurt. He giggled and slumped down on the stump. Harry crouched down and looked up at him, observing his face.

"You look okay," Harry said. "You need to be more careful next time." Tom didn't seem to be listening to him. He took a swig of the bottle, and without warning, he spat out the liquid all over Harry's face. Harry screamed angrily, and Tom started laughing again.

"What'd you do that for?" Harry yelled at him, but Tom kept giggling.

"I love it when you're angry," Tom said cheerfully.

"You like that?" Harry said, dumbfounded. Tom nodded and chuckled again. Suddenly, his face fell.

"They used to hurt me, Harry," Tom said sadly, his eyes lowered.

"Who?"

"The orphanage."

Harry didn't recall ever seeing anyone in the orphanage mistreat him, but he leaned closer. "What did they used to do?"

"Every time I was a bad boy, they would spray me with dihydrogen monoxide," Tom whimpered, looking utterly vulnerable. Harry couldn't help but feel terrible for him. "They thought it would purify me. I could have died from too much exposure."

"That's awful!" Harry said, wondering why he was only hearing about this right now. "I never heard of this chemical before."

"Here, this is how you spell it," Tom said. He waved his wand over the grass, and bright green light formed three characters next to Harry.

As the realization came to him, Harry wanted to kick himself. Tom saw his cheeks burn red, and he guffawed. Harry grabbed a pebble nearby and threw it at Tom.

"You...are...a...nut!" Harry shrieked. The small pebble bounced off Tom's right shoulder, and he fell backwards from the alcohol's effect, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Harry stared at him; now was the perfect opportunity to kick him for everything he had done, but Harry shook his head. I just can't harm him, he thought, and he walked behind Tom, put his arms around Tom's torso, and heaved him to his feet.

It took Harry a while to drag the drunken wizard back to the manor. He was still angry and embarrassed by Tom's trick, and he continued to yell at Tom even as he forced him into his night robes. The moment Tom's head touched the pillow, he fell asleep. Harry clambered onto his side of the bed and smashed his face against the pillow, trying to drown out what had happened.

I shouldn't have trusted him! But I have to admit, it was a clever trick for a drunk nutcase, Harry thought, and he spent the remainder of the night wondering how he could fool Ron and his dormmates with dihydrogen monoxide.

The trees around them had shed their last leaves. The wind grew heavier and colder. Harry was thankful he had his old sweaters to wear. He offered Tom one of his, but Tom had declined, instead deciding to buy his own sweaters from a Muggle shop.

They continued their lessons on magic and love. Tom was now comfortable with having Harry studying close by in the library; occasionally, their heads would lift from their books at the same time and their eyes would lock on each other. A smile would be exchanged before they went back to their reading.

One morning, Harry awoke to find the entire house scattered with Christmas decorations.

"I found this in the attic," Tom explained as he magically cast ornaments recklessly all over the hall. "They are ancient, but it shouldn't stop us from having a little fun."

They found mistletoe and decided to hang it up above Grindelwald and Aderyn's painting. It instantly put Aderyn in the mood for a kiss.

"Not in front of the lads!" Grindelwald cried out as she lunged at him hungrily. Tom and Harry stood side by side across from the painting, laughing and unaware that at that very moment, their fingers had entwined around each other's.

"Tom, I must send this to Professor Dumbledore," Harry said the next morning, clutching an envelope in his hands.

"What for?" Tom asked, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"It's about your Christmas present!" Harry said quickly. "Trust me, I didn't say anything bad about you here."

"How are you sure he'll agree to it?"

"It's my money. I can do whatever I want with it. I just want him to carry on my message," Harry said. To his relief, Tom allowed him to use Hedwig.

Christmas morning was an edgy ordeal. Their peaceful breakfast was disturbed by a few owls, including Hedwig, who came to deliver Harry's presents. He got a new sweater from Mrs. Weasley as well as dozens of pies and cakes. He was surrounded by gifts from Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid. Tom, on the other hand, sat alone with not a single present.

Feeling guilty, Harry tried not to look at Tom as he unwrapped his gift from Ron. All of the delivery owls had flown away except one. It was a male Northern hawk owl, and he made his way towards Tom. He looked at him for a few seconds then, as if recognizing him, he hooted and stuck his chest out proudly as though he were a prince introducing himself.

"That must be your Christmas present from me," Harry said. "I thought you might like it. Now you wouldn't have to use any more pigeons for your deliveries."

"He's mine?" Tom said, surprised. His new owl hooted proudly again. Tom smiled and stroked the owl's chest. "Thank you, Harry." He stretched out his hand, and the owl gave one of Tom's fingers a soft nibble. "Jarlath," Tom announced the owl's name. "You are certainly a proper young fellow."

The owl's eyes fell on Hedwig, and he immediately straitened up even more, stretching his body to the point that he looked comical. Tom laughed.

"I think my owl has taken a fancy to your owl," he said, laughing. "Only a pretty lady can make this prince lose his senses."

Harry didn't see Tom again after that day. He knew that Tom was around because he could hear him occasionally, but they stopped sitting together for meals and sharing the same bed. The library was suddenly empty without him around.

Two evenings before Tom's birthday, Harry heard Tom moving about the bedroom. He rushed up to see him crouched over the dresser.

"Tom, where have you been?" Harry said, starling him. Tom moaned and swayed before flopping on the bed. Taking a couple steps closer, Harry could see the problem. "You're ill!"

"It's the influenza," Tom said. He was shivering, the tip of his nose was red, and his hands clutched a box of Kleenex. "I didn't factor in this complication when I entered the diary. The influenza virus strengthens every year; I have about fifty years worth of sickness to catch up on." Harry moved closer to Tom, but he pushed him away. "I don't want to pass it on to you."

"Don't worry about me," Harry said, moving back towards him. "Lie down." He helped Tom settle under the covers. Touching Tom's wrists seemed to pain him considerably.

"I need to go to the pharmacy," Harry said. "You have to let me out." Tom moaned and shook his head. "Tom, you must trust me! You're going to get worse if you don't let me help you!" Finally, Tom agreed. With a trembling hand, he produced his wand from his robes while Harry threw on his winter coat and put on his boots. Tom pointed his wand to the balcony window, and the magical ward was lifted off. He gasped in pain, but it didn't stop him from magically adding Harry's coat pockets with Muggle money. The spells were weakening him.

"I'll be quick, okay?" Harry said gently. He ran out the balcony door, shutting it behind him so the cold wind won't blow in. He climbed down the nearest tree and set off for the Muggle town.

Tom hated his decision. As much as he was growing comfortable having Harry around, he sometimes couldn't trust him. I'm just not the sort that can trust, he thought bitterly. He groaned at the pain in his joints and back. His wand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the cold floor. You better come back, Harry! I swear, if you abandon me, I'll... His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his eyelids closed shut.

When he regained consciousness, Harry was checking his temperature.

"You're back," Tom said when Harry pulled out the thermometer from his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he saw that his wand was sitting on the bedside table; Harry didn't steal it back.

"Of course I'm back," Harry said. "Where else would I go? I wasn't going to leave you here, Tom, because being abandoned would have been a horrible thing to go through." He checked the thermometer then set is aside. He took a small tub and uncapped it before unbuttoning Tom's night robes.

Tom watched as Harry used a cotton swab to dip into the tub and apply it over his chest. The coolness of the ointment was soothing, and a mint-like smell reached his nose. Harry gave him a little smile, and his eyes hovered over to the rosary around his neck, noticing it for the first time.

"You're wearing the cross?" Harry said, surprised. "I never expected that from someone who killed his own father."

"I wear it simply out of habit," Tom explained, watching Harry's every move. "It was one of the very few possessions I had as a child."

"Do you believe in God?" Harry asked curiously.

"I wasn't active in any religion, but I believed it is only logical that everything in this universe centers around a main source," Tom said. "I neither love nor hate this supreme being. I'm very business-like with Him, you could say. I tell Him what I honestly like and dislike about this world. I believe He appreciates the honest feedback; for centuries all He ever gets is millions of praises from the blindly faithful and millions of insults from the blindly angry."

"I never thought of that way," Harry said, laughing. Tom smiled.

"I even, on occasions, explained to Him why I would do a better job than Him if I was in His position," Tom added.

Harry bit his lip, not sure how to respond to this blasphemous comment. "I guess I should expect anything like that from you," he said, and it was Tom's turn to chuckle.

"Are you certain you will be okay sitting so close to me?" Tom asked.

"I have an amazing immune system," Harry assured him. "Do you know when I last got sick? I was six."

Tom groaned. "I want your body."

"Sorry, you can't have it," Harry teased. He left the room to make chicken soup, and for the rest of the night Harry never left his side. Tom continually slipped in and out of consciousness, and every time he woke up, Harry was still by his side and the wand was still on the bedside table.

The flu had altered Tom's dreams into surreal tales. He was back at Hogwarts, and a boy stood not too far from him. Tom was expecting to see Gerald Potter when he turned around, but instead of meeting blue eyes, Tom saw two bright green eyes bore into his.

Suddenly seized by a need to be with him, Tom began following Harry Potter through every corridor and room in the castle. He sought for a reason why Harry should be in his group.

"I will protect you from all harm!" Tom called out.

"I can protect myself," Harry called out. "If anything, I think you need some protecting, Tom."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, but Harry just smiled and continued running through the halls. Tom chased after him, passing by secret passages he never remembered existed in Hogwarts.

He was not alone in the chase. Eileen Prince and Marilyn Rosier were right behind him, never leaving his side. Although he could not see them, he sensed their presence.

"Where are Avery, Lestrange, and the others?" Tom asked them.

"They are not here any more," the girls responded, adding to Tom's confusion.

"Harry," Tom softly moaned when he woke up. The canopy and ceiling were spinning in slow motion before his eyes. He felt like he was lying on a log in a river; the swaying underneath him was getting more violent. He stretched out his hand, and it brushed against Harry's hand; he was asleep. The swaying turned into a turbulent rocking...he was being thrown forward...

Tom didn't know what was happening; the next thing he knew, he had barged into the bathroom and fell to his knees in front of the toilet.

Harry woke up in the middle of the night. Tom wasn't in bed, but the retching sounds coming from the bathroom answered the question of his whereabouts.

"How are you?" Harry asked when Tom returned. He collapsed on the bed, his body shivering aggressively. Harry helped him get under the blankets and felt his forehead. "You're breaking into a sweat. You should be feeling better soon."

Tom nodded, too weak to talk. Harry continued watching over Tom when he fell back asleep.

How is it that you can be so powerful and frightening yet so vulnerable and childlike at the same time? Harry wondered as his eyes traced the contours of Tom's handsome face.

Tom woke up again an hour later to find Harry sleeping close to him without a blanket. Tom moved to cover him, and his joints and bones ached with pain as a result.

Thank you, Harry, Tom thought. I can trust you to help me. You had the chance to take back your wand and abandon me, but you didn't. You truly do not mind being with me. He smiled.

A memory resurfaced from a couple months ago when Harry first left the manor. I think I found a suitable reward for your deed.