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The Fate Changed Now What?	By : Krysania Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 8638 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I'm not JKR , not own Harry Potter, and consequently earn no money whatsoever.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Tom’s pov

Tom’s head hurt, but he had the strange urge to whistle, even with the dull throb that wasn’t leaving him. It felt so good to pull something like that over Harry! Still, even by slamming the link down as far as it got, he wasn’t able to completely avoid it. Regardless of anything else, he wasn’t going to publicly drop his masks like that, for any reason. A moment later he was even more pleased with his restraint as he found a couple intimately talking between compartments.
Amelia and Tristan Davies! How interesting.
He nodded at them in passing and very carefully cast a charm of attractiveness and lust at the Bones bint, making her vulnerable and irresistible. Even if Davies managed to hold back where many others wouldn’t. . .The muggles would probably attack her on sight only to be repulsed like she was a leper. . .
. . .After all, Harry had declined the specific deal including her protection. . .
But it wasn’t only a petty revenge. Tom really needed to vent a bit, else he was going to kill Diggory on sight. It wasn’t even a matter of Harry’s protests and protections, or even the consequences of those. If he lost it right now and disembowelled the Hufflepuff, like he desired, all his ambitions and everything he had achieved so far would be for nothing.
. . .Diggory wasn’t worth that, not even Dumbledore’s head on a stick was worth that. . .
A bit cheered up with his thoughts and upon hearing the Hufflepuff couple’s hasty retreat to a compartment, Tom continued on. Unfortunately, he had almost reached the prefects’ compartment when he was hit with another blinding spike, one that nearly incapacitated him, and he had no choice but to lean against a wall for precious wasted moments.
Tom was just the tiniest bit shaken. This was far worse than the previous attack. Didn’t Harry understand that by taking such advantage of their two way link was merely worsening the badger’s situation? But no, his partner’s ire had nothing to do with the current circumstance, so he decided to deal with him, and his moods, later. (He looked so forward to this. . .) Thankfully no one was there to notice his weak moment, and he continued to his business with no fuss.
A brief check to ensure that Diggory was alone inside, or that it wasn’t a trap, and the door was suddenly forced open, his magic insuring no noise but the softest bang. Sam wasn’t expecting him to simply forego societal niceties and was instantly facing him, looking both surprised and sick from sheer terror.
“Tom,” he managed to utter in an almost steady voice. (Almost being the key word here.)
At least Diggory had a fairly good idea what he was awaiting him.
Tom had the strong impression that if the badger was a mudborn he would have found him on his knees, praying for his soul. It was a pleasant thought. Still, such a petrified reaction wasn’t in accordance with the bold way he had literally demanded his presence here. It wasn’t making much sense and it set heavy alarms inside Tom, but he could see that Diggory was already in such an incoherent state that an immediate proper punishment wasn’t going to give any answers.
Regrettably, he visibly put aside his wand.
“Why did you called me here, Diggory?” he asked in a natural voice.
Sam, while obviously still terrified, (there was no mistaking his trembling limbs) straightened his body and dared to look at him almost to his eyes. There was not a hint of challenge in his body language but there was definitely dignity.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you from whatever you were doing,” he said without the slightest hint of innuendo in his voice.

“But as this is about Harry, I knew that you need to know.” he finished with quiet resolution.
Tom’s eyebrows knitted, his mind getting instantly on even stronger alert.
Well, obviously. Still, this sounded rather ominous.
“What about Harry?” he asked sharply. If it was a pathetic attempt at blackmail he was going to kill Diggory in the most horrifying way possible, and Harry would have to deal with it. . .
Sam dared to meet his eyes, once.

“He approached me for a portkey to Nurmengard, telling me that a member of his family is held prisoner there.”
Tom’s world literally stopped for an entire endless moment, his mind incapable of dealing with it. But he forced himself to do so.

. . .If he had only got there five minutes later. . .? He didn’t doubt it; Harry had been that desperate to die. . . If he had got there five minutes later there was a good chance that he would have never gotten Harry back even remotely the way he was. . . and not only regarding his features . . .
Everything he had read indicated how much harder and mentally damaging was a resurrection without the original body, or even something small preserved from it . . . he could have gotten back just a caricature with everything that was making Harry, Harry, destroyed forever. . . Tom still couldn’t handle the thought; his mind was literally snapping contemplating those things.
“Do you understand why I had to talk to you about it?” Diggory’s tentative voice barely managed to be heard due to the deafening noise in his head fuelled by his panic attack.
It was far from the smartest thing that the Hufflepuff could have done under the circumstances. Instantly Tom’s panic had transmuted into rage.
. . .If he had got there five minutes later he would have found Harry into Diggory’s arms. More, Diggory hadn’t denied Harry’s request . . .
Tom grabbed Sam, threw him to the wall, and started hitting him with deadly precision. Only his wish to know everything stopped him from killing him.
“What did you ask from Harry as a price to help him?” he demanded in his chilliest voice, holding Diggory on his feet by the neck, only a fraction before chocking him.
Tom could feel Harry’s protections flaring to life and battering him, but as long he didn’t use magic he could ignore it. Punch line, he didn’t care. Harry had protected the Dursleys as well. For all he knew his lover may want to deal with the badger, himself, at a later day.
Sam looked at him with guiltless, slightly bulged, hazel eyes and Tom swore viciously as he could read his innocence, even without trying, the badger had no shields whatsoever. He still wanted to crush his throat for his daring, but he eased his grip and Sam coughed and started explaining with a strained voice.
“I-I s-swear o-on m-my m-magic t-that I d-didn’t a-ask a-anything f-from H-Harry, f-for m-my h-help, o-or e-even i-implied a-anything of t-the s-sort. I c-couldn’t h-help a-anyway; t-the m-ministry is t-too w-well g-guarded. . .” he confessed between more coughs, his trembling worse than ever. He leaned against the wall, clearly expecting either death or an extension to his torture.
Tom believed him. Oh, he still wanted him dead, no question about it. But the fact that he owed him Harry’s life, probably twice, made him quite reluctant. He decided on postponing the verdict for later. There were far more important things at stake after all. . .
“Still, it must be something,” he insisted, not leaving the badger a moment of comfort.

“Harry was in an extreme rush at the time.” he couldn’t help twisting, cruelly, the knife.
Diggory looked bashful.
“I,” he stretched the word, “couldn’t help him in any way, but I overheard my father at the hospital talking with the head Auror about the looming attack in Nurmengard and how lifesaving it would be to them having people like you and Harry. I shared that information, Harry declined.”
A deep blush covered his cheeks, and he looked again down.
“He asked me to not mention anything of this to you, but I couldn’t do it, not when I could see that he planned on attacking alone, I couldn’t. . .”
This time he looked beyond guilty, sick, for betraying Harry’s trust, but Tom had no wish, or inclination, to either absolve or berate him. His mind was busy creating schemes to fix the current mess, for he had little doubt that Harry was going to try again.
His own insistence on staying at the Potters' was going to ensure that. (Never mind his excellent reasons for doing so.) This attack, whenever it happened, could be the safer option under the circumstances (they could use the Aurors for canon folder) but he held lesser doubts about the elder Diggory’s less than pure motives.
Really, he should have seen that coming at the first mention that there wasn’t going to be a formal interrogation about the battle, but, obviously, he wasn’t at his best at the time. The natural step would have been for the Undersecretary to make his offer, or blackmail, at the informal questioning. . .there was undoubtedly going to be some clues of them using dark arts, if not outright evidence. . .if they declined. . .
But the estimable ministry worker was either overeager and clumsy, (the most probable explanation, for making his son privy to the information and even less allowing him to return at school, disregarding otherwise permission, after breaking his hand) or it was a trap, either of his making or Grindelwald’s.
. . .The key question was how to use any of those possibilities to his advantage. Tom was eager to start making a name at the Ministry as soon as possible, and the faster they ended with Grindelwald the better, but he was going to be dammed if he and Harry ended anyone’s pawns. . .
His eyes fell on the Diggory spawn. He hadn’t even felt his momentary shifted attention, lost to his guilt as he was. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was an authentic reaction or if Sam was in accordance with his father, Leonard had surprised him after all. Those bashful looks were near perfect at hiding from a legilimens probe and that fleeting openness could have been readily achieved with projection.
Either case one way to go. . .
“When is that attack going to take place?” he asked impatiently now that he was certain for his course.
Diggory still kept his eyes down, almost neurotically so. Tom was almost certain of his guilt.

“I don’t know for sure; in a month, or so.”
Tom’s nerves tested again.

“Well, find out,” he ordered without restraint.
If they were going to use their help he was sure as hell not going to pander on their idiotic limitations and rules.
“Tell your father that he better move fast and write me to hush the details. Grindelwald was critically wounded but it won’t last for long. He had better be ready in a week or so.”
Predictably, the comment made Diggory to finally raise his eyes to his perusal, but his reply was anything but predictable.

“What? Aren’t you going to kill me?”
Tom managed a perfectly natural sounding laugh.
“Should I?” I wish! “If I killed Harry’s admirers. . .” he let it hang, although he would certainly far from mind it if most of them ended under the earth.
The problem was that he wasn’t going to kill Sam, not for a long time, maybe never. The second exam had confirmed it; the little bastard was innocent from his father’s machinations and his crush to Harry was strong enough to keep it that way and even go against his father if need to be. He was going to be useful.
Hazel eyes turned pleadingly to him.

“I don’t want to die, but I would prefer it to be from your hands than Harry’s.” he was sincere as it goes.
Tom couldn’t help but gape.

. . .He was either losing his touch or his world had gotten crazy when he returned with Harry. . .
“He is not going to kill you Diggory,” he tried to reason.
. . .that or the entire Hogwarts population suffered from meningitis. . .
Sam seemed to gather himself, and he regarded Tom with dignity.
“Please, Riddle, don’t lie about this; I have seen you both kill, in battle,” a shudder racked his body, “and I know what you two are.” a fortification of air,

“I’m also familiar with the lore, and I betrayed him: twice, once directly against his orders. I know what to expect and I’d rather not see the disappointment in his eyes.”
Tom had enough of this drivel; two sharp arcs with his wand, a strong concentration on ‘Latente’, and dearest Sam went down, more dead than alive. His lips tightened as he watched the descent. There was no single doubt if it was a trap, not anymore.
While the surface thoughts had been in accordance with the words and seemed completely natural, Diggory was neither sworn nor branded to expect something like that, not even from a dark family to follow such beliefs.

No, this was Imperio, Grindelwald’s, or Dumbledore’s, handiwork. His first theory was right.
He sighed, and after a few deadly boring minutes to insure that the ruse had been believed and the foreign influence mostly dispensed, he set to work. . .The things he did for Harry. . .
The further he dug into Diggory’s unresponsive mind to free him the more he was impressed with the effort’s delicacy. Tom found faint traces of the German’s magical signature, but there wasn’t a specific order, other than to encourage them into taking part on the attack at a very later date, or a main thread.
It was more to the lines of minuscule threads, hiding behind Sam’s feelings (and so making it impossible for Sam to fight it, even if he had the raw power, which he definitely didn’t) amplifying and emboldening them to the extreme, urging him to challenge Tom and get killed, and by doing so spread discordance between him and Harry.
It was a clever plan; that much he could give; it could have been sheer ingeniousness if Grindelwald had been in a state to use extended Legilimency, instead of just skimming and assuming. But he would have needed hours upon hours to make sure that Diggory wasn’t sworn to them, and it was barely five minutes to view his infatuation about Harry. Never mind that the dearest German Lord had personally seen Sam’s nearly insane rescue by a green eyed idiot. . .
But there was still more to this, as, even with Grindelwald’s influence fading from his mind, a huge part of Sam’s devotion persisted, never mind that he defied his orders to the point of warning him instead of spurting some nonsense to inflame him. Tom had to reach the recesses of Sam’s mind to find the answer to this, and when he did, he, finally, allowed himself to let go of the other’s mind. Not quite an effortless task as the Hufflepuff remained under his curse.
The moment he was completely untangled a wave of dizziness shook his whole being and the room started tilting. He had been an idiot and stayed far too long into the comatose mind, twenty minutes, maybe even closer to a half hour. Still even as he sat down to get his bearings back he couldn’t help a pleased smile. The answer to the mystery was essentially coming down to Sympathetic Magic!
Having his answer, Tom started considering the implications, still amused and somewhat relieved.
Everything was making sense now, even the sudden shift to his behaviour, triggered by the Imperious and the badger’s own resolutions. Sam’s magic core had the same rare grey tinge as Harry’s and that fact would have been anything but pleasing, if said core wasn’t approximately a third to that of his beloved’s. If the power levels were anywhere near compatible he would have been a very legitimate antagonist for his affections. As it was, the effect to the Hufflepuff was far stronger than to Harry and was channelled as instinctual devotion to the Lord of the pair.
Not that there wasn’t any attraction, or that there weren’t other factors, but, even if their own bond and attachment wasn’t neutralising this naturally, that inequality was going to keep Harry away from the badger even he were in love with him, which he definitely wasn’t. . . (That was making it so elegant!) . . .a few words explaining the pull’s significance and it will be over. . . Harry hated using his power over other people, and this would have been tantamount to touching a house elf, control wise. . .
. . .And the beauty wasn’t even ending there as, due to their bond, Diggory was getting, by extension, just as devoted to him, if only to a degree. It was proven with the way he had instantly approached him regarding Harry’s safety instead of trying to stop him by himself. It could have been argued that it was a matter of logic but he was sure that the subconscious played its part as well. . .
. . .No, Samuel Diggory was theirs just as surely as if he had sworn, or taken the mark, maybe more, due to his magic. Tom still hasn’t forgotten, never mind forgiven, the fact that Harry had contemplated spending his last night on earth in his arms, but he could learn to tolerate his presence, for the time being. . .
. . .He wanted to see the Undersecretary try to play them against such a weapon, even if his son was only that to the elder Diggory. Useful was going to be a mild word compared to what he was going to provide. . .
Tom inspected the unconscious, very pale face, of his ex-opponent, and a slow, diabolical, smile stretched his lips. With a flick of his wand he transfigured the body into a squirrel and put it into his pocket, disillusioning it for extra security. He had lost too much time here already, and they needed to work fast to undo Grindelwald’s work. Schemes upon schemes were created in his mind.
. . .But firstly he was so going to enjoy Harry’s expression. . .for a start. . .

Harry’s pov

With the comprehension that he was indeed trapped inside the compartment, Harry exploded, both in words and magic, but unfortunately with the same ineffective result. Tom was already gone, so they couldn’t blister his ears (although he couldn’t get away from the buzz of the mental counterpart, heh) and his magic, no matter what he was throwing, was clashing to a wall of its own making.

He had agreed to get marked, again after all, more willingly than before. . . he was such an idiot!
But Harry wasn’t allowed to rage for a long time. Hermione’s too dry voice stopped him mid-rant.
“Harry please, you know perfectly well that he is not going to leave permanent damage.”
That blasé attitude forced him to take notice; Hermione was neither naïve nor an airhead.
“And how exactly do we know such things, Mione?” he questioned with more than a little sarcasm. He was still tense; all that anger couldn’t get expelled with a breath.
That seemed to cut Hermione, but she managed to continue none the less. At a closer glance, though, she wasn’t as confident as she sounded.
“We know because I and the guys got away with the equivalent of a mere bad dream when it was obvious he wanted to crucio us.” she sounded like she was joking but it was anything but.
Harry felt terrible for snapping at her and wasn’t really surprised that she had a fairly good idea on what was really going on. How to apologise right, though?
“Herm. . .” he started, wishing he was under the earth, but managing to look her at her eyes.
But Hermione didn’t let him finish.
“It’s alright, Harry, I understand, and I’m sorry too.” she blushed, very tomato like.
“So sorry for yesterday. . .It was my idea, but I was so worried. . .”
He was blushing horribly, now, too. Harry would have been much better if that incident was never mentioned again, ever, and he certainly couldn’t lie and tell her that it was okay and then get even, not to her.
She seemed to understand his dilemma and smiled reassuringly, moving on.
“Anyway, I knew that I would get away somewhat lighter, but I never dreamed that it would be all of us. That’s how I know that Sam will be alright,” Hermione almost gushed. “Because the deal was for friends and family, and he certainly stood as a friend for you yesterday.” she concluded, beaming.
Harry was stunned. This was much closer to the truth than he expected her to guess, even with her intelligence, but the only other source, Tom, would rather torture than tells her. Still, he only wished to have her conviction on the matter. . .
“How?”
Hermione smirked.
“Tom. He threw it on my face when he realised that was incapable of throttling me.”
All the blood got straight to Harry’s head, upon hearing this, in a wave of red hot fury so hot it was truly overshadowing the previous one.
“He. . .Did. . .WHAT?”
How dare he?
Harry lost himself on his rage, and he surfaced only when he heard Hermione’s voice, panicked and somewhat distant.
“Harry, Harry, calm down please.”
Gradually he became aware that Hermione wasn’t that far away; she was still besides him and rubbing his arms.
“I’m going to kill him.” he insinuated very carefully.
“Harry, No, he didn’t hurt me, please. . . Come on, I will show you the memory.” she tried to placate.
Realising that she was still panicking, Harry forced himself to calm the hell down. His trembling eased, and he realised that the whole compartment had been shaking too. His eyes focused and he groaned. The place was once again a disaster area, even worse than before. Broken windows, the seats he transfigured and Tom’s fancy divan were broken into tiny bits. Only Hermione seemed to be alright. Thank God!
He couldn’t help a bitter chuckle at the irony that he was also grateful to Tom for sealing his magic inside the compartment; there was no telling what kind of damage he could have done to the rest of the train, or even the students.
Hermione looked alarmed with his laugh, and he hastened to reassure her. “It's okay, I’m okay. The crisis is over.”
His dearest friend examined him critically and then with a broken:

“Oh Harry!” she engulfed him in one of her trademark bear hugs, cutting his air supply almost completely and burst into tears.
Harry had a half irritated, half guilty, moment of ‘Not again!’ but he squeezed it down.
“I’m alright, now, Herm, truly. You said something about seeing the memory.”
He added the last part both because he wanted to witness it before making his mind if he was to hospitalize Tom and also to calm her.
It worked like a charm. Hermione’s tears died down, and she was back to her endearing, bossy, self.
“Alright, but let’s fix things here first.”
They worked fast, and in the minimum amount of time the compartment was pristine, just as they found it in the morning. Finally, when he was ready to complain with impatience, Hermione sat down and allowed him into the memory.
It was strange to see his closest people in a set all of their own, disconnecting, especially because, even there, it was still centred around him not each other. That was daunting, for it became obvious, as he watched, that while their kiss was a calculated move by Tom (there was and a bit of guilty relief with that part) it was anything but from Hermione’s part, and that made her breaking move and her unwavering loyalty even more touching. Harry didn’t know how to handle it except seeing the rest.
At the aforementioned scene he concluded that no, Tom wasn’t in for a beating, not that he wasn’t deserving it, as he almost killed her. But he could see the unbearable, palpable tension he was under and more, the fact that it wasn’t a conscious spell he cast, but an involuntary outburst when he reached the end of his tether. He wasn’t blameless but wasn’t out to kill her either and she had been baiting him on, Harry understood that and could accept it. . .
. . .Still a nasty surprise, or two, or three, at the next training session wouldn’t go amiss. . .
. . .Mostly he was grateful to their old pact that had saved her; if only he was sure that the deal, alone, was going to work for a second time. . .
Seeing Hermione falling apart with the news on his behalf was unbearable, somehow worse that today, probably due to that note of pure despair, and it was killing him. Also to see Tom so unnerved in from of others, her of all people, took his breath away. Harry didn’t know that he could find himself so despicable. . .
The emotional roller coasted stopped for a moment as they reached the list of possible remedies that were discarded, positively vile. Harry felt pure relief and gratitude at Hermione for her insistence to the Stone. He wasn’t sure that he could have handled something worse. . .
But the madness continued, all the way to the conclusion. The look of Hermione’s face, smiling quietly to her room while Tom destroyed their common office wasn’t funny, no matter the absurdness of the situation. Harry didn’t know if he was more moved to tears from her devotion or blinded with rage with her persistence. Frankly he didn’t expect her to go that far. . .
Baiting on Tom again and again, she honestly had no idea how close to death she had got, multiple times. But he had seen it clearly, at the final challenge at least, his partner was incensed enough that he had considered killing her, consequences be damned. He sent a deep prayer of thanks for his beloved’s unshakable self control.
Harry broke from her mind almost violently and didn’t dare to open his mouth, for a long time, out of fear that he was going to shout at her until his throat closed, or worse. It wasn’t that that he didn’t love her for what she had done, but not even having Tom was worth of her life, couldn’t Hermione see that?
“Harry?” she probed at him gently when she recovered from the revived memory.

“Are you alright?”
That was it. Harry let go.

“Me? You were the one that could have died ten times over. I don’t deserve that.”
Hermione’s hand came to her lips, and she looked at him in utter horror, but she didn’t cry. The same hand moved blindly fast and impacted with his cheek with a loud crack. Harry looked at her astonished. That had hurt, but more than the tiny hurt he didn’t expect such an outburst, and she hadn’t even finished yet. . .
“Harry James Potter,” she screeched. “How dare you to think that it’s alright for you to sacrifice yourself without regard, to the point of leaving nothing, but it’s a crime for me to want to put right the humiliation you brought me. What kind of friend does that makes you? I didn’t deserve that treatment either,” she shouted, making her displeasure utterly clear, and burst again into tears, like her heart was breaking.
Harry froze with this. Her words had stung, as had her tears, but he had no idea that she had taken his actions at such a personal level, or that he had hurt her to that extent, and he had even less of an inclination on what to do. Wrong, he kind of did. Feeling ten times more awkward than before, he took her in his arms, initiating it for the first time, and started rocking her.
“Shh, Hermione, shh, I didn’t do it to humiliate you, I swear, I thought that Tom liked you and that I was doing the right thing.” he rocked her some more.
Hermione sniffed some more at his neck and finally raised her head and glared at him with her puffy eyes.
“I know that you didn’t, but it still hurt, a lot, and I know you too, so I should have been expecting it, but did you have to be such a bloody excellent actor that it was all but impossible to spot the lying?”
Harry winced at the language, when Hermione reached the point of expletives things were bad.
“I know it’s not much, but I promise to do my very best to never lie to you again.” he offered.
It was a testament at how different people they were, now, in the past for Hermione nodded, tensely, accepting it as the best compromise he could give. Still there was something more. . .
“Hermione,” he started out nervously, for this probably deserved another slap, but he needed to know.

“How did you figure things, if I was that good?” he braced himself.
Surprisingly she neither shouted nor slapped him; she didn’t even look angry and merely smirked. Harry had the very disconnecting thought that Hermione had spent an inordinate rate of time with Tom. . .
“Your eyes. They lose their veneer of detachment when you are drunk and show absolutely everything. . .Told you that alcohol wasn’t good for you.”
The last part was almost offensively patronising, but so Hermione, that he couldn’t help but laugh and thank his lucky stars that he still had her with him. What he was going to do in a world without Hermione?
“Thanks!” he told her, meaning everything.
Hermione had laughed with him, looking relieved, but at the end of it she regarded him very seriously.
“We both have many things to make right with each other,” she informed him in a no nonsense voice.
He was ready to disagree and take the whole blame on himself but the glint in her eyes stopped him, he would rather hear her and fix things between them than try to half argue and take another slap.
“Indeed.” Harry braced himself for an apology that he considered vastly unnecessary.
His ready agreement took her aback, for a moment, but then she started talking, fast.

“I shouldn’t have lied to myself so that I could date Tom. I hurt you.”
Harry’s eyes widened. He had been expecting an apology for lying to him the previous month, but she was taking it too far.
“You did nothing wrong. You were in love, and I didn’t feel anything of the sort until very recently.” he protested vehemently, hoping with everything he had that his past tense had been correct.
That seemed to really anger Hermione.

“So it was okay because you were in denial?”
Harry hated that question, whether it held some truth or not it was meaningless for him, nor did he want to explore it in any way. But before he could tell her to mind her own business (for probably the first time in his life) she continued talking even faster than before.
“And no, it wasn’t nearly the same thing; I was infatuated with a mask, although sometimes a thin one. You fell, hard, for the real thing. I learned the difference quite clearly the last month.”
While there was a part of Harry that understood and agreed with the distinction, he was more concerned with the last statement.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“He didn’t,” she assuredly told him. Harry couldn’t help a disbelieving look; he didn’t like her weary tone.

“But you did,” she continued sharply, shaking his hand off.

“You hurt me when you decided to leave me, choosing to die.” Harry recoiled.
This was getting worse than her tears.

“Hermione?” he tried.
She cut him with a wide gesture.
“That nearly destroyed me, but you know what hurt me even more? That you never intended to let me help you. . . I was dying with guilt from lying to you, but it wouldn’t have mattered. The moment you realised the problem, it was over. It never even crossed your mind to ask my help.” she pretty much shouted the last part.
Harry just couldn’t bear her wide, hurt, eyes and had no choice but to look down. This discussion was as unbearable as the similar one he had with Tom, maybe worse, because he could fill the blanks to what she wasn’t saying. He would have left her here, virtually alone, in a time not her own, at the mercy of a, at the very least, potentially unstable person with only a simple oath as her mere protection. If things had gotten a little different she would have been lucky if she died fast. . .
“You are right, Hermione.” he forced himself to meet her eyes.

“I was thinking of nothing but myself, but I couldn’t handle the thought of hurting, of murdering, someone.” he still couldn’t.
Hermione examined his face.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” she smiled tenderly but then hit him upside the head.

“You weren’t thinking, that’s for sure. Tell me, Harry, how many angry outbursts did you have?”
Harry rubbed the place she had hit, understanding what she was getting at but disagreeing with her.
“There were four episodes before Leonard and one after, but they were minor ones in comparison.” he admitted.
Hermione’s eyes flashed in triumph.

“Let’s see, Lestrange’s execution, which you didn’t kill, the battle at Halloween, at Walburga’s accusation and later at her torture, and about six minutes before, right?”
Harry didn’t see a reason for that look.

“Yes, that’s right, but I don’t see anything to be pleased,” he groused.

“I was completely messed up.”
Hermione smiled.

“Indeed, but you didn’t kill anyone, not even caused terrible damage.”
She was laying it too thick. . .
“Not killing? Where you were at the battle, Hermione?” he wasn’t regretting his actions, then, and would undoubtedly repeat them, but now that he knew the score he was far from willingly blind either.
Hermione turned faintly green at the reminder but continued with the same enthusiasm.

“It was a battle,” she protested, “and while you turned a little bit berserker, you didn’t hurt any student — the total opposite.”
Harry wanted to believe her, but he didn’t dare.

“What about Leonard? He could have died, or even you, a few minutes before. . .And what about Lestrange or Walburga?” he pointed out.
Hermione was far from daunted.
“The worst thing that happened to Leonard was a couple broken ribs and a couple teeth. As for his bruises, he was so artlessly offensive that I punched him too.” she smiled.

“Regarding Lestrange and Walburga, even then, as I remember, you weren’t lost in your anger, and even now your magic may have seemed uncontrollable, but I don’t have a scratch on me. . . What do you think about that?” she gifted him with her smuggest smile.
Harry didn’t know what to think. Hermione, the most logical of them all, was making light of this when Tom never dared to. He knew better, of course. . .
“So you think me harmless?” he teased.
The smile was gone and she was dead serious again.

“Nothing further from the truth; you are not exactly the boy I met at first year, and you have issues, but I know, I know, that you can control this. . .”
Harry’s neck was closing; he couldn’t believe that she still believed in him so much. . . “Hermione. . .” he started.
She didn’t allow him to thank her.

“Anyway, you own me after that month of hell. . .”

. . .it looked like a smirk on her. . .
“You told me that he didn’t hurt you?” he almost growled.
She rolled her eyes again.
“He didn’t. That doesn’t mean that he didn’t make my life extremely difficult, or that I didn’t hated him for forcing my silence - and even more so because he was right - but I think I have started to see a bit beyond his masks and genuinely like him as a person too. Tom may be a beyond obsessive tyrant, most of the time, not to forget psychopath, but he honestly impressed me, and not only with his brilliance. He loves you, he really, truly, does! I hadn’t seen it to the true degree before, and I’m considering him a friend, if only for that.”
Harry stared at her, trying to come to terms with what he was hearing. It looked like Hermione had got into terrible trouble just to help him, but her supportive little speech and, even more, her outright reverent tone stunned him to silence.

His oldest friend sounded even more passionate than the time she confessed to him that she fancied Tom.

He would have suspected her for overcompensating on getting him over, and felt guilty about it, but he had been to her mind and, amazedly, knew better, even before that if he was completely honest.
But the meaning of her words weren’t the only alarming thing present, and the question burst out almost reflexively.
“Why?”

Inwardly he cringed for putting it out bluntly like that, but he really needed an answer.
. . .In more than one ways. . .
Hermione had spoken about friendship, but her whole attitude was more reminiscent by far to that of a follower. Nothing Lestrangey, that much for sure, but definitely more subservient than before. . .

Some form of comradeship he could understand, but this was getting way too far. What the hell had Tom done to win her devotion like that? Harry couldn’t help but be suspicious.
He feared the worst. What if he hadn’t won it? The use of an Unforgivable, even Imperious, went very much into the harm category, and he certainly hadn’t met traces of the curse into her mind. But simpler curses, of the persuasion type, weren’t necessarily so, and it wasn’t violating the oath. Especially if he hadn’t put her in danger or, even less, used her against him.
Hermione understood what he was doing and allowed him; she didn’t mind his terseness, or faux pax, and got right to the heart of the matter.
“Harry, I can manage twelve, maybe thirteen hours of solid research when needed. He managed sixteen, eighteen, and sometimes twenty almost daily for a month. He dislikes coffee yet he drank gallons of it, not to mention much stronger potions. I really had no idea to the extent of his devotion to you.”
Harry looked at her, petrified, having no clue, as in at all, on what to say. He had been so concerned for Hermione that he had used Legilimency to ascertain her mental shape, and so he ended not only hearing about it but seeing glimpses to the memories going with it. Tom had hinted of such activities, of course, but it wasn’t even covering a tenth of it. (and when the hell had Tom started to understate his actions?)
He couldn’t deal with what he felt with such revelations, not now; it went too deep; he would end an emotional mess. The only way he could handle it, for the moment, was by shoving it aside and firming his resolve to put a stop in the madness. Nothing else worked. . .
It also helped that his fears had been appeased and there hadn’t been any mental tampering whatsoever. The startling change was all due to Hermione’s penchant to follow authority figures, usually worthy teachers, so to transfer it on Tom wasn’t completely preposterous under the circumstances, or even completely alarming at a second thought.
That approach was certainly going to keep her out of his lover’s ire until he could manage to get her away. Or his dearest friend could even choose to stay and even get marked, but Harry was extremely ambivalent at the possibility and very reluctant to really consider it until he had to.
Still, he had stayed silent and brooding for far too long. Hermione looked like she had started to worry.
“Thank you!” he told her, taking her hand, not to mollify her, but because he needed to. Tom may have started the whole endeavour, but she had been there all the way. It was never going to be enough for everything she had done for him, but it was all he could do right now.
Hermione understood.

“Shh, no need for that.” she told him gently, squeezing his hand and letting it go.
Harry relaxed.
“You also have my apologies on Tom’s behalf,” which he was never going to personally give, but Harry needed to anyway.

“I should have known that he would make your life difficult. . .” the light tone was indication that while he was serious about this topic there weren’t going to be any more outbursts.
Hermione was ready to play along.
“You certainly know the man you married.” she put it dryly,

“But don’t worry, when I could I paid him back.” her tone was light as his and she underlined it with a rather unusual, for her, cheeky smile.
That comment really blindsided Harry, who got truly tongue tied and tomato red. “W-we are engaged not married,” he managed to utter.
Hermione’s smile grew.
“This is a wedding band, not a promise ring, and you two are certainly acting more married than many couples I knew.” she pointed out.
As Harry had no intention whatsoever to indicate what truly cemented a marriage, rather than an engagement, he hastily changed the topic.
“Too much like Minerva’s, that smile!” he remarked teasingly.

“How did you repay Tom anyway?” he continued, more than curious.
He had no fear of it being something truly nasty, both because if it was Tom would have retaliated badly on it, oath or not, but also because Hermione dared to brag to him about it.
Hermione allowed it, without a single tease, too pleased with herself and her success.
“Thank you! She has such a wicked humour. I really like her, more than any dorm-mate, Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.” seeing his impatience, she smiled again, a cat like smile. She was doing it intentionally.

“As for Tom, it was only small things, irritating him here and there, whenever I could get away with it, but the true revenge was at the hospital. . . I’ve noticed that he has a huge aversion on being touched, except if it’s you. . .so. . .”
Harry couldn’t help it; he burst out in hysterical laughter with the remembrance. He had noticed that something had been strange that day, but to have it confirmed as prank just took the cake. It had been a bit sadistic, but not harmful, and Tom certainly deserved it that day.
“That was intentional?” he asked, not for affirmation but just so that he could enjoy it more.
Hermione sent him her smuggest smile and nodded.

“Do you remember his face?” this time they lost it together, holding their bellies and sharing laugh after laugh at Tom’s expense.
“That was amazing and took guts!” he admitted when he managed to regain his breath.
Hermione beamed at him.

“I’m still Gryffindor,” she told him proudly.
“I know.” and at that moment he certainly did.
But the returning of their (recently rare) camaraderie and his gratitude for the countless things she had done for him made him want to offer something even remotely close to substantial to what she did.
“The deal wasn’t only about friends and family. . .” he confessed. There was no need for Hermione to not find out the rest, she had figured out enough, and he was going to deal with the fallout if need be.
She looked at him burning with curiosity.

“But that was already a lot.” she tried very hard to not make it sound like a question.
“Indeed, but the deal was a bit more substantial. . .” Harry bit his lips to keep his smile and waited a few moments knowing she was dying to hear this, finally he continued.

“. . .like, for everyone that I care about. . .” he was a bit apprehensive for Tom’s incoming bitching, but it was too late to back off, and he didn’t want it anyway.
Hermione’s eyes and mouth became round from pure shock.

“It can’t be,” she whispered, “you tend to care for the whole world.”
Harry blushed.

“I know.”
Hermione burst into hysterical laugher again.

“Merlin, you got him tied in knots!”
Harry laughed too, by her turn of phrase, knowing that Ron would have used something far more colourful and obscene. Their eyes met with that mutual knowledge, and they shared a moment of silent contemplation for their absent friend.
“He’s got me just as tied, and not only with oaths,” he admitted, not even knowing why he did. Maybe it was the moment, but more likely he just needed her back to the way it was. Hermione just nodded to him in encouragement, understanding that he needed to talk.
“. . .and it’s not even like the oath is completely binding.”
“How so? What were the parameters?” she asked, obviously both wanting to learn and wishing to help him.
“It’s not so about the parameters themselves, those were proven almost airtight, but I was a hormonal idiot yesterday night and allowed a window. If someone flirts with me and I flirt back, the other’s life is forfeit.” no reason to add the grim details, or the fact that he wasn’t sure if Sam fit the bill or not.
He couldn’t have found an unluckiest moment to ponder on this. Suddenly his head was assaulted with wave after wave of hot pain as the occlumency barriers were crushed, and the only thing he could feel, for a moment, was the extent of Tom’s tremendous rage.
Harry barely held himself from collapsing, and he would have been sick if he didn’t have an empty stomach.
“Harry, what’s wrong? Please tell me. Is it Tom? Did he. . .did he use the window you told me?” her voice was trembling, and she didn’t dare to use the exact words.
He could feel Hermione’s cold hands stroking his face. It helped, and a moment later the link was again completely cut, but that was even worse. That one moment had been enough to learn the reason for the explosion, to feel Tom’s panic and fury.
Harry would have avoided that for Sam, if only he had confessed. He put his head between his legs until he calmed down and tried again for the binding on the door. It was even more reinforced; there was no way that he could leave the compartment.
“Harry?” Hermione was sounding again almost hysterical.

“Harry. . . how bad are things. . . what kind of curses. . . Do I need to get there?” she fired rapidly.
That snapped Harry fast. No matter what happened to Sam, it was not worth Hermione’s life.

“No curses, fists.” he admitted.
Something white on the floor caught his eye; it was singed on the edges but undamaged. Even conflicted as he was he couldn’t crumble it, so he folded it carefully and put it into his inner pocket without looking at it.
Hermione had relaxed, and she sat back to her seat like there was nothing wrong.

“That’s alright then.”
Harry goggled at her, was she mad?

“Nothing wrong? I almost passed out from the strength of his anger, and I had been used to far worse shit from Voldemort. Now tell me what’s wrong?” he ranted.
Hermione, irritatingly, remained completely calm.
“Do you remember how Ron was against Michael Corner and Zacharias Smith? Only by sheer luck he didn’t get detentions. It’s a completely natural reaction, and at least it’s just fists. Let him get it out of his system. Sam is going to be alright after a couple potions.”
Logically he knew that she was right, his magic had stopped bothering him, meaning that Tom had eased somewhat; but then again his partner was unpredictable, and Sam was merely an excuse at this point. . . and yet, something to her words was smarting as well. . .
“I’m not a girl though.”
Hermione glared.

“Idiot, did you think that I liked it then? And this is Tom, what did you expect? Though you don’t have much room to talk, he may have promised Minerva to throw her of the stairs if she dared touching you, but I remember what you did to Lestrange.”
Harry blushed, chastised. She was again right, on both counts, he was inconsiderate, and even if they had remained platonic friends he doubted that Tom would have allowed him a lover, certain facts were proving it so, no matter how it galled.
“Wait, what? I didn’t hurt Lestrange for this, I’m not even sure that I felt that way, then.”
Hermione’s eyes became very penetrative just then, understanding things he didn’t wanted her to, things that even he wasn’t sure he understood, or that he even wanted to. But she didn’t pressure him.
“Alright, back to Sam’s matter. He may be safe, or maybe not, but I remember that Tom promised his life if you talked to me about something.”
Harry took a couple deep breaths to steady his nerves.
“I’m sure that you are aware that a political career is not openly compatible with our lifestyle, especially now.” he started, feeling like a jerk. He really didn’t want to have that discussion, but he didn’t have a choice, not really. Not only for Sam’s safety, but because he had, even reluctantly, agreed to the deal.
Hermione continued for him. She didn’t look overtly pleased but neither surprised.
“I know, I have been wondering what you were going to do about that specific problem. I assume that Tom wants me as the public female presence in his life to avoid the rumours.” it wasn’t a question, and while the tone was matter of fact she sounded somewhat resigned.
Harry felt lower than dirt.
“Indeed. I’m sorry, Mione. He took yesterday as a betrayal and he was furious, but you can take a research post in the continent if you prefer. I won’t have you forced into this.”
Hermione bit her lip, looking indecisive.
“I want to help you, Harry, really, and I believe in your political ideas, but I don’t know. Certainly I don’t want to leave. My life is here, but I don’t want to marry Tom either, even just as a total cover.”
Harry freaked out with the mere idea.
“Who said anything about marrying him, like I would have allowed it to go that far?” he shouted, almost with everything in his lungs, and then forced himself to calm.

“You’ll only need to play his girlfriend, or fiancée, for a decade or so, other than that you will be completely free.”
Hermione’s lips tugged upwards with his display.
“Really, that’s only? Then maybe I will be able to help, though I will need to really think about it and talk with Zev. . .”
Harry looked at her in shock, reading far more than teasing to this.

“You really don’t have to,” he told her hastily.

“If you don’t want to leave the country I will persuade Tom to leave you alone.”
There must certainly be something else he will want in trade.
“Just please don’t drop it for a while longer, just to avoid the immediate gossip. We’ll be alright afterwards. . .” it was selfish, but he would rather not become the talk of the school, again, if he could help it.
“Harry,” she said, half fondly half exasperated.

“It wasn’t a ‘No’. . .”
Harry was starting to panic.

“You are actually considering it?” he voiced his thoughts almost thoughtlessly.
Hermione was starting to look irritated, but she suppressed it with a sigh.

“Harry,” she started again, patiently but it didn’t last.
“I don’t like the monolithic mindset that makes such actions necessarily, but it exists, and I want to help you, yet, you obviously don’t want it, which is also very reasonable under the circumstances.” he definitely didn’t like that resigned tone.
“You have kept your word and talked to me, so can we drop it, now, please?” the last part sounded sad and oddly tired.
Harry gaped at her, totally embarrassed; Hermione had nailed it to the head. He had no true intentions to convince her, but her apparent assumption, that he was doing it because he didn’t trust her around Tom, was far from acceptable as well. While it had the undeniable positive of stopping her from getting marked, which was definitely going to happen if she’d agree to cover them, it would also slowly annihilate their friendship and their newly reconstructed bridges.
He was undoubtedly again monstrously selfish but he couldn’t bear it to lose her.

“No, I’m not exactly sanguine about it, but I swear it’s not because it is you. Won’t you have a problem with Zevi about it, anyway?” he hastily changed the topic, hopefully dodging the bullet.
Hermione didn’t look completely alright with his reassurance, but she did him the favour of taking the bait.
“I’ve already told you that I will have to talk to him, but I think he will be alright with it. We have been talking, and Zevi had hinted that something like that was in the cards for the two of you.” her brows furrowed even more.
“I haven’t thought anything of it, then, but in hindsight, maybe he was warning me.
Harry wasn’t expecting something like that.
“You talked about me and Tom with Zev, when?” even as he asked he felt like an idiot.
Their friends always talked about them, and Mione was no exception, but still, she talked like they had been together in forever, when in truth, extremely close friendship and how intimate they had gotten aside, they hadn’t even kissed before yesterday.
Hermione had the grace to blush.
“Six days ago, but it’s not like you think. I couldn’t stand the deception anymore, and he guessed enough. I ended venting to him and we talked afterwards.” she smiled somewhat bashfully for a moment, looking very vulnerable.

“I trust him.” the last small sentence had more meaning in it than all the gushing together she had done for Tom and his knowledge.
Suddenly Harry felt very much like he was intruding and way guilty.

“I’m sorry, Mione.”
She smiled gently at him.

“It’s alright; I’ve stuck my nose in your business, too, to a much stronger degree.” her eyes turned sharp.

“Speaking of which, what is your true problem with accepting my help, if it’s indeed not due to jealously?” she dared to openly ask.

“Does it have anything to do with the parchment inside your pocket?”
Harry was like a deer in the highlights.
How?” he asked stunned, she was beyond intelligent and knew him a great deal, but this went too far. She had no link inside his head.
Hermione smiled like she had just passed an early NEWT with flying colours.
“It was just a guess, but I found it strange that you trashed the place and it remained untouched. Also, the way you hesitated and yet preserved it was a dead ringer that it was from Tom.” a quick look to confirm her success, and she continued with more confidence.

“Whatever your problem may be it’s always comes back to Tom. May I. . .? If it’s not too personal,” she asked and then corrected with a heavy blush.
Feeling half like he was trapped and half like it was inevitable, Harry showed her the painting. Hermione’s face lighted in delight at seeing the artwork.
“How beautiful!”
Something savage had started clawing inside Harry. He had tried so hard to keep her away from this but she kept insisting.
“Do you find it pretty enough to want it etched on your forearm?” he asked dryly and without any preamble.
“W-what?” it was Hermione’s turn to stutter.
Harry didn’t spare his words, both because he was pissed, but mostly to make her understand.
“Do you want to get marked, Hermione? To have Tom ordering you around, probably 24/7 without respite, for the rest of your life, to be able to punish you, hurt you, with the drop of a hat? To be, in a sense, his slave?” seeing her frozen expression, he softened his voice.

“I don’t want that for you, my friend, and so you will have to leave to stay free.”
Hermione looked like she regained her wits and examined his face.
“Harry,” she started confidently, “nothing will convince me that you could leave your friends, or anyone truly, simply to Tom’s fancy, even with the handy oath, and this is not the dark mark, so tell me again why I need to leave?”
Harry closed tightly his eyes, for a moment, he should have known that she would get right to the heart of the matter.
“No, it's not the dark mark; it is going to be the joined mark. But while I agreed with Tom’s valid points to its necessity and will definitely ease things, as much I can, it will still put a lid on your free choices.” he decided to open his cards completely.
“You are the only friend I can save, Hermione. The guys signed their lives years ago, and Leonard and Minerva are oath bound to me, so please, please.” his checks tinged red with the last admittance.
Hermione’s eyes had softened so much that he wished that he could hide under the seat.
“Harry, this means the world to me, but the decision is long taken.” she opened the first button of her shirt, tugging the delicate chain to brought forth her pendant.
It was Harry’s time to freeze. With the pendant out in the open, it was impossible to miss the magic emanating from it in waves, even with the shielding. Tom had been brutally truthful, but he had been far too anxious, then, to get the true meaning. The tiny jewel was indeed modelled after his mark, in more than one ways.
He let out a heavy expletive.
“Harry. . .language!” Hermione was scowling like a teacher.
Harry’s cheek started to tick.
“Are you out of your bloody mind? Tom, the bastard, forced this on you and you are concerned about my bloody language?” he shouted, and he didn’t even need to add that he was going to kill him.
Hermione forced him back to his seat.

“Harry, listen to me now and listen very carefully. I took the pendant, and I’m going to take the mark very willingly. Do you know why?”
Harry wanted to hit his head at a wall from sheer frustration, no ambiance to his feelings this time. He was bloody murderous.
“Because you are an awesome friend,” it sounded more like an insult, “and probably don’t want to leave Zev.” almost as an afterthought.
Hermione didn’t flinch with his tone and continued regarding him calmly.
“I will follow you to hell and back, that hasn’t changed since first year, and I truly intend to stay with Zevi, but it’s not for that, not really, or precisely not only.” she took a deep breath and continued.
“Our society is stagnant; I fully intend to help you and Tom to fix that. There is direct need to bring the magical world into the right century and parallel achievements. More, I know that both of you have the best of intentions but someone needs to fight for the rights of the muggle parents to their children. You may both have gotten the short stick regarding your upbringing, but that doesn’t mean that every muggleborn’s home will be abusive and certainly not to forget their continuous right to the muggle world. . .”
With every word passing from her lips Harry’s anger diminished more and more. Good old Hermione and her causes! They were definitely going to need her in their political campaign. But he was finally allowing himself to get Tom’s point and his need to mark her. If she remained unchecked there was a very good possibility that they would end political opponents, and with him around Tom would have to use but the most restrained of methods to deal with her.
He smiled.

“You know of course that Tom will have fits with the way you expressed your ideas if not the ideas themselves?” he was only half joking.
Hermione smiled back.
“More likely to die from heart attack at his twenties and then rise again to torture and murder me,” she wasn’t joking too.

“Even with taking the mark, I’m fully expecting to hide behind you.” she looked at him earnestly.
He nodded his agreement; he was definitely going to protect her.

“Why on earth you weren’t resorted to Slytherin?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Hermione smirked.
“It was an option, together with Ravenclaw, but for all that I wanted to stay close to you I wanted a breather from Tom too. Not to mention, that you first got his attention because of your sorting, a little underestimation wouldn’t go amiss and it paid. I had mostly peace and quiet for almost six months.” she admitted.
Harry was delighted; it was amazing to see a new facet to his dearest friend.

“Tell you what, if your plans are not too extreme, you can count on my backing.” he stipulated as well.
Hermione crossed her arms.
“Harry James Potter, there is nothing too extreme with my ideas! You’d noticed that I used parallel achievements, not acquaintance with muggle technology. There is nothing that says that we can’t achieve the same or better with magic.”
Harry admired her logic and was with her all the way to this, but he couldn’t help but tease her a bit.

“I don’t know, Herm, spew was rather extreme.”
Hermione made an inarticulate sound of frustration.

“It was S.P.E.W. and I was kid, although you must admit that some elves definitely need or desire to get free.”
“I know.” Harry knew that this kind of distinctions was going to make her a truly brilliant politician. They had gone far, the both of them, and he was so happy that he had her, in addition to Tom, to catch his mistakes! The question was if things were going to last long enough to truly make a difference in the world.
“Harry?” Hermione’s tone was sharp.

“What’s wrong?”
Harry’s eyes snapped up, his first instinct was to tell her that nothing was wrong, but even she knew him enough to never fall for it. So he decided on some form of the truth.
“I just wondered if we’ll truly manage to change the world.”
Hermione examined him very carefully.

“I would believe you if you didn’t have the specific expression that shouts Tom-problem.” her lips tightened.

“You promised to avoid lying. If you can’t do that, say nothing.”
Harry couldn’t help but blush.

“It’s kind of personal.” he hedged.
Hermione tried to look patient without much success.
“I remember telling you my every problem with Ron, and I assume that Ron did the same about me. Hell, in the start of term I was badgering you about Tom too, so don’t tell me about too personal. You need to vent too.”
Harry tried for some control.

“Have you bothered to think that I may not be comfortable confessing such things to a girl?” he asked icily, dropping any pretence.
Hermione crossed her arms, again, looking twice as intimidating.
“And you will confide to whom? Sam? Tom will kill him for certain. Zev? He will hear you, but die from embarrassment. Alphard? He will tease you to death, and I don’t even want to know what kind of scheme Brax will come up with. . .”
Harry felt like he wanted to die. He was sure that no torture, devised by Tom, or even Voldemort at his most deranged, could ever be compared to this. He cursed him feverishly for imprisoning him in the compartment; it looked like hospitalisation was once again in Tom’s future. . .
“Maybe I just don’t need to confide in anyone. Drop it, Hermione,” he almost hissed.
Hermione just looked at him in a weird mix of compassion and pity.
“Oh Harry, everyone needs it, even Tom. He kept muttering about your recklessness and idiocy between researches, that’s venting. What could be so horrible that you will keep it to yourself at all costs?” oddly, her face turned ashen then ruby and back to ashen, by her own question. She put her hands to her mouth, looking ready to pass out.
“Please forgive me, Harry, I won’t pester you anymore. I understand, he had told me, but he loves you, so it didn’t even cross my mind. I swear I won’t bring up the matter never, ever, again.” she rambled some more.
Harry was pretty sure that she was mistaken. He knew perfectly well Tom’s methods to vent, and he could bet serious money that this was one of Tom’s masks and tricks to get her all the more under his influence. But as Hermione progressed he got more and more uncomfortable. It took him a moment to recall the exact memory and then he didn’t want just to die, but to take her with him to hell too. Tom wasn’t going to kill her if he got there first.
But as he was preparing to strike her with the nastier curse he could think, he saw only massive misery, deep concern and worry for him in her eyes, nothing else. His anger died out, just like that.
“It’s not what you think, Herm, it’s much more complicated,” he found himself confessing.
Hermione regarded him just as solemnly.
“Do you want to talk about it?” this time the question was put delicately, instead of pushy. She had understood perfectly how close to death she had got.
Strangely, now that he had started, Harry wanted to tell her. Maybe that was going to get them to something equal with before, and just as strangely he felt that she had won the information, almost, with her life.
“There is not a single problem, or any doubt that he wants me, concerning our private moments,” he admitted with a heavy blush.
“The problem is that he doesn’t seem exactly pleased with that fact, and yet keeps doing those extravagant gestures, exposing himself publicly, which proves that he hadn’t made his mind, yet, and I have no true idea at how to deal with it.” his fear of losing everything almost open to his voice.
Hermione looked like she ate something too big to chew and was so red that he was surprised that she hadn’t passed out yet. But still, she valiantly tried to help him.
“Are you sure that his reactions go that far?”
Harry was seriously regretting opening his mouth, but, as he had already started, he dug out his Gryffindor courage and continued.
“Yes, I’m sure. He had been a total jerk to me, in the morning, for daring to start things,” he told her, looking out of the window.

“He barely lets me touch him, even casually, and when he starts things himself he freezes in all but a few moments.” the train’s floor had an interesting pattern too. . .
“Hmm.”
Harry raised his eyes; Hermione was still red but marginally more calm and relaxed too.
“I don’t disagree with your opinions, Harry. You know Tom most of all anyway. But when was the last time you inspired in him a strong emotional response and he didn’t react with a hissy fit to end all hissy fits?” she smiled at him encouraging.
It was like a light bulb lighting slowly.

“Never,” he admitted, and it was like a soft wave of relief.
But it was his own reactions that were troubling him now.
It was nowhere that simple but the connection was there. He should have seen it. Why didn’t he?
Unbeknownst to his own thoughts Hermione’s smile was stretching.
“See, you just need to talk with Tom about this. Forget me; it’s when the two of you don’t talk that things get haywire. I’m sure that things will turn out okay.” another encouraging smile.
“Also, I wouldn’t be so anxious about his open gestures. I hadn’t connected the dots before, but don’t you find it strange that not even a single Slytherin girl was found in a situation that could permit you to ask her out, not to mention all the others. I’m pretty sure that Amelia’s tattling wasn’t the only reason for your dry spell all those months.” a firm nod.
Harry was in total agreement with her, in hindsight looked pretty much confirmed but it wasn’t helping him now.
“I don’t know, Mione,” he found himself saying. “I don’t know what to do with any of this. Before, there was this tiny part of me that could stay distant and just observe; now I don’t have even that. He took everything. I feel so out of control, and I haven’t a single idea on what to do with him, or myself.” he had no idea why he was saying it too.
Hermione got again that deeply penetrative look, he didn’t like it one bit.
“So I was right. You didn’t allow yourself to fall for Tom but when you were absolutely sure that it was going to remain unrequited. You were nowhere near ready and had no intention at all for a relationship.”
Hermione’s words hit him like a sledgehammer of truth.

It wasn’t just that he preferred to see Tom in a relationship with another before facing his feelings; he had literally written himself for dead before admitting them, even to himself. He had always considered that a relationship between them was doomed unless they were ready and he was right, but it wasn’t Tom, it was him!
He started laughing hysterically.

“We are fucked!”
Another fast slap came right to his cheek, and it sobered him immediately.

“Hermione!” he almost bellowed.
She looked at him serious as a grave.

“There is not a true reason to panic. Calm down.”
He looked at her like she had changed places with Luna.

If that wasn’t a reason to panic, what was it?
She kept her cool.
“Alright, you were not exactly ready, but even now that you know, do you love him, or want him, any less? Do you believe that you were better off as friends?”
Harry examined himself, and she was right his feelings were still there, probably stronger than ever, now that he had admitted how far reaching they were, but her last question was just as pointed.
“I don’t know, Mione. I love him, and I’m not going to stop wanting him, but for the last part I honestly don’t know. Things were a tiny bit easier when we were friends.”
Her eyes turned very gentle.
“This is where you are mistaken, Harry. So you are lovers; that doesn’t change the fact that you are also friends. My mother used to tell me that there is no true marriage without friendship. So the question is: ‘Is he worth it?’” but her voice was steel.
The advice hit Harry like a revelation; he had never considered it in such way but it made sense. A marriage was far more than attraction, or even head over heels love. As for the even deeper thing, like if Tom was worth it, the answer was still the same: ‘Everyday and Never.’ Even when he wanted to murder him he wasn’t regretting it all the way, or was even going to take a single step back.
“Yes he is worth it,” he acknowledged to himself and the world.

Whatever tests he was going to put him through were not even nearly close to enough to keep him away.
Hermione beamed at him.
“That was about it! You must talk to him; make him see your side, retreat for a bit if you must, until he does. . .after you fix your soul, that’s it. But you have been almost only Slytherin for more than a year. Time for your Gryffindor part to play.” an almost sly smile accompanied this.

“He fell in love with that part too.”
Harry blushed a bit, but her advice was nothing that he wouldn’t come up himself if he wasn’t in such nerves.

Too bad that the retreat part wasn’t going to work, but he wasn’t going to just leave until April’s end. . .He didn’t even want it that way. . .
Hurriedly, he filled her to the bonding part.
Crazily, Hermione just laughed.
“So that was what he was researching the last days alone. He had made it utterly impossible for me to see. Who would have thought that he was such a romantic? You know the interesting part: this method sounds like it could work even without the Elixir!”
Harry wasn’t seeing the levity. That possibility, while explained Tom’s insistence, if one ignored the emotional part, was making things more dangerous, not less.
“Herm, are you mad?” he hissed. “If we don’t fix things we could die.”
Hermione stopped laughing and faced him head on.
“No you will, certainly, not. My mother used to tell me something else as well:

‘To never give myself, even to the man I loved until there was nothing else left, missing to our bond, but this, not as a matter of virginity but closeness.’

You two are the poster couple for this. You will be alright, you see. . .”
Harry was stunned again with the thorough reassurance, and he hoped too but his true fear persisted.

“Everything turns sour for me, one way or another. I fear what happens next.”
She didn’t bat an eye, knowing him way too much.

“So? Fight to turn it back right. You two will certainly have enough years of it.”
Was this the way to go?
Harry didn’t know, but he wanted it.

“Your mother was amazing!” he admitted at least.

“I’m sorry that I’m the reason that you lost her.”
. . .Another apology that came way too late. . .
Hermione glared.
“It’s not your fault. I’m missing her and Dad, but I chose to come. The only thing I regret is that I hadn’t thought to bring Ron, Luna, Sirius and Remus, or the twins with me, not to mention Crocks and Hedwig. But I honestly didn’t know that Tom was going to allow even me to come.”
Harry was beyond touched, again.

“I know. . .”

Then it was his turn to try fixing the mood.

“So you tried your mum’s advice to Zev?”
Hermione tried to glare again, but she could recognise a pay back.
“Yes. We are nowhere near there, yet, but it will come. He certainly knows how to be a perfect gentleman and not try taking advantage of a lady.” her eyes were gleaming, and her smile was different than any other he had seen from her so far, womanly, and he finally realised the deeper change to Hermione. She wasn’t a girl anymore, but an adult.
Also, Go Zev!

Way Slytherin method to keep her interested and wanting more! It certainly didn’t sound merely like chivalry to him, but he honestly hoped to never find out the details. He really didn’t want to know such things for his friends, Hermione and Ron’s volunteering notwithstanding.
A few moments of friendly silence. . .
Harry was calming down, and for all that he was beyond grateful for her support, a small part of him was annoyed that she had browbeat out of him the information. One of her advices gave him the perfect weapon to get her back.
“So, Herm, marriage and friendship, do you have anything, like at all, to tell me?”
He got a smack upside his head for this, but it wasn’t very hard.
“No, you idiot, you are not just my best friend, but my brother, blood notwithstanding.”
He closed his eyes, tightly, to not show tears.

“You too, you know this.” It was too low, he wasn’t sure she heard him.
“I know.” she had.
Another moment of silence. . .
“Weren’t you jealous, at all, when I was dating Tom?” it was her turn to speak way too softly.
Harry had to open his eyes to this, but he was so comfortable, at this moment with her, that he was brutally honest, to her and himself both.
“You mad? I was dying from; Tom has a whole dissertation of the things that were making you the perfect possible wife. . .”
A startled laugh. . .

“You are kidding me!”
Harry put his hand above his heart in a perfect imitation of the twins.

“I kid you not, on my honour, Slytherin and Gryffindor!”
Another laugh. . .
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or terrified for the implications . . .”

Tom’s pov

Using only a marginally softer tactic, Tom barged back to the compartment and examined its occupants. Both Harry and Hermione were looking far less stressed and chatting amicably, but while his lover seemed to have overcome his nerves, he also spotted a suspect redness to each cheek. Really, he understood Granger’s frustrations, but if she ever repeated that action he was going to cut her for potion ingredients and gift them on Prince.
. . .Harry was his to hurt or please. . .
Harry took a single look to his face, frowned, and was all:

“Tom, what’s wrong?” instead of greeting.
Tom couldn’t stand that tone. A look to those concerned green eyes and his mind flashed to what the idiot had almost done, and he was almost blinded with rage. He didn’t trust himself speaking, for fear or shouting to coarseness, or dealing any corporal punishment, for he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t tear him to shreds.
Instead he chose to simply dispose the badger on the floor between their seats and return him to his original condition. Diggory looked so indisputably like a corpse that there was hardly room for doubts, and Tom leaned casually against a wall using their startled moment to study their reactions.
Hermione let out a strangled cry that, if the compartment wasn’t warded or, discounting that, she hadn’t held it back with both hands, would have attracted the entire train to see, too shocked for anything immediate, but Harry’s reaction was a completely different matter:
While his face was totally expressionless and was trying to keep even their link almost mute, his eyes told Tom everything he needed to know: His partner was naturally enraged and sad, but it hadn’t completely settled yet for him to explode. Additionally, but maybe not completely surprising, this wasn’t only about Sam. Harry’s haunted look indicated that was he was also reliving the death of another Diggory just as much.
There was something akin to hate due to that, but even with the memories it wasn’t even nearly enough to obliterate the other feelings that he held for him. The stronger emotion was naturally guilt, and not even completely misplaced this time, as Harry assumed that the apparent death was his punishment for the madness he intended.
. . .Which it was, but not to the extent his partner believed, and certainly not only. . .
Conclusions: while Harry was deeply hurt, it wasn’t to the point of actually stopping loving him, and even if he left him for this, it was more than possible that he could win him back in a few years. The problem, with Sam dead, was that Harry wasn’t going to completely forgive him, ever, or even trust him. At the first hint of Voldemort like behaviour or even a repeat of something similar, he was either going to openly challenge him on a duel to death, or finish him off with a knife to the ribs at their bed, and immediately follow him.
. . .His lover knew above all else to take his threats seriously. . .
The whole thought process took him less than a second and at that time Harry was over any kind of feelings and draw his wand for revenge.
“Check him over.” Tom commanded.
Granger, having finally gotten over her shock, induced more due to the presented body than the seemed murder itself, was on the task at once, going over all the diagnostic spells she knew, a full medical examination almost, but he didn’t care what she did — his eyes stayed firmly on his partner. Harry’s eyes flashed, dangerously so, with the order, but for once, he did exactly as he was told, limiting himself on a simple diagnostic spell, but it was more than enough.
“Latente? What the hell, Tom, what happened?”
“He was under Imperious. Grindelwald.” was the only thing that Tom needed to say.
“How long until we can wake him to fix him and find out what he knows?” Harry got right to the point.
Harry understood, and Tom was gratified to see his eyes, no, his whole demeanour, change. Bridges that seemed irrevocably burned were built back at once, looking far sturdier than before. Where there was deep betrayal and misery, now there was only love and renewed trust. He had won!
It was more than worth the badger’s life.
Granger was biting her lips harshly, looking very apprehensive.
“From what I have read, Latente, unlike normal stasis spells, is too dangerous to be maintained beyond two hours, but I don’t know if Grindelwald’s influence will be abated by then, even with the source cut.”
It was very tempting to roll his eyes. Like he had that much time to waste!

“Already taken care of it. We can wake him as soon as I fill you in.” he wasn’t even gloating.
Harry gaped and approached him.

“Legilimency under Latente? Are you mad? Sit down; you could have gotten brain damage.”
Tom smiled.
“Only for those with a weak mind. Relax, darling, I’m alright.” Harry remained very unimpressed so he continued.

“There wasn’t time to lose. I only saw hints of the curse. I wasn’t sure, and it was better to have the enemy believe him dead than know him for caught, not to mention the information.”
He watched, amused by Harry’s rapid take on the information (he may play it however he liked, but his Harry was anything but slow) his expression turning sharply calculating, but he was surprised yet again when his partner, instead of focusing on the pressing matter, he examined him too, just as rapidly, frowned and, very stubbornly, kept on the previous topic.
“Sit down.” it was an order, nothing measured about it.
Tom bristled; he wasn’t in a mood to be talked in that manner, not even by Harry.

“Drop it.” he warned frostily, promising pain.

He certainly wasn’t going to accept it in front of Granger, no less, no matter that she had no idea what they were talking about.
Harry still wasn’t backing down. He crossed his arms.

“Tom, be reasonable,” he started patiently, yet in the same steely tone.

“Nothing will convince me that you are leaning against the wall merely for vanity’s sake. You are pale as death, worse than Sam, and your limbs tremble, if only slightly. . . So will you please sit, just for a bit?”
He nudged him towards the bench then added insult to injury by addressing Granger.

“Mione, will you please find the cart lady and bring back some pumpkin juice and maybe some pumpkin pastries or cauldron cakes, or even chocolate frogs, if you can find them?”
Granger jumped up to obey in a hurry, now whether it was the order, unheard of from Harry yet undeniable, no matter the please, or that she wanted out of the oppressive atmosphere immediately he really didn’t care. He wanted her out as well, but he wasn’t going to allow them to treat him as an invalid. Not now, not ever, so he pinned her with his eyes, ordering her silently to not dare return.
Predictably, she hesitated again before complying, but Tom ignored that too and concentrated on not killing Harry.
Really, he acknowledged that he could read actual and very deep concern from his lover, but he abhorred the fusing. More, the fact that he dared to insinuate that he was fragile, to the point of needing sugar, was just the cup de grace. If he dared to continue pressuring, never mind treating him like a weakling, he was going to pay dearly, just not now, it was hardly the time for games.
. . .Additionally his legs weren’t shaken as in at all. . .
He stepped forward and levelled his wand at Diggory to wake him with the incantation on his lips, but. . .Harry’s hand covered softly his own. . . Tom turned to spear him with his eyes, but he found something that made him pause, for a bare second. . . The next moment his wand was back inside his sleeve and his hand was constricting painfully around Harry’s wrist. Still, his partner didn’t lower his eyes or back down.
“Please. . . not yet.” it was both an apology and plea (but never for mercy)

. . .he froze. . .again. . .
Tom wasn’t mollified, as in at all, but he had seen something at Harry’s eyes. . .something more than overwhelming worry or iron will. . . It disarmed him, and he found himself on the bench, complying.
“There, happy?” he asked more than a little sarcastic.
Harry didn’t seem to mind the tone. He smiled teasingly, and that strange look seemed to intensify before fading.
“Ecstatic!” it didn’t sound completely sarcastic.
. . .What he had seen wasn’t stopping merely at renewed trust. For just a moment, no more than this, he saw the surrender of all his defences. There were no shadows or doubts anymore, just total trust and fierce devotion. . .
Really, if that was the reward for protecting Diggory, he could deal with it ten times over, all ramifications included, even the fretting. Then he was disgusted with himself and those thoughts.

But if Harry wanted to play it dirty he was going to play too.

“Funny thing, with Diggory there, you really don’t care about how your dearest Sam may be faring?” he raised an expectant eyebrow as in inquiry.
Harry paled with this, but he met him stare for stare.

“Sam will keep. It’s a long way to two hours yet; he will be alright.”
Tom could sense that he was nowhere as carefree as he sounded, but the sentiment was there. He truly came first to Harry, even regarding those under his protection, and it was heady.

. . .Heady, but totally useless at the moment. . .
“Aren’t you concerned, at all, about whom else may be under imperious?” he asked archly to cover both weakness and return to business, his curiosity was peeked too.
Harry considered it for a moment, but he didn’t seem terribly alarmed.
“Of course I am, you prat, but you are my first concern. Anyway, if you were positive for immediate danger you wouldn’t have been bothered to play with my nerves.” he stated simply and rolled his eyes to express his opinion on said game.
Another surge of satisfaction hit him with that and he smirked.

“I’m flattered darling.”

. . .More than that plus irritated, but they really should return on more serious matters. . .
Some colour returned at Harry’s cheeks with his tone, and he looked a bit self-conscious, but his next words took care of that.
“But there is a good possibility that both the Undersecretary and the Chief Auror have been compromised.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Harry commented frowning, “else things would have already been incredibly worse for us and the wizarding world in general, so what do you know for sure?” he questioned levelly, sitting across him.
Tom leaned back with satisfaction, the nonsense was over.
“Diggory was cursed Saturday, at the hospital; it is beyond probable that the abovementioned got caught at the same day, so yes, it could be that bad and will get undoubtedly worst, Merlin knows how many he got under his control.”
Strangely, it eased Harry.
“It still sounds mostly speculating, so you could definitely rest and eat a bit before we take any action.” he commented lightly.
Tom saw red. That damned stubborn head! Having enough with words, his wand was out in a flash and was resting against Harry’s neck.
“Another word and you will pay. I’m not weak.”
Harry had the nerve to laugh at his face and even more infuriatingly his own wand remained hidden.

“Weak? How many wizards do you know, even trained healers, that would have managed to get information from a comatose mind and not end brain damaged or at least unconscious for days themselves, never mind doing it with a month of sleep deprivation to their system. Superman much?”
Tom relaxed; he should have known that Harry wasn’t going to see him as weak. All the same, he promised himself to crucio Hermione the first chance he got. He knew perfectly well who the tattler to the last little titbit was.
“I did what needed to be done, nothing else.” he said primly.
Harry smiled.

“I know, but you are repeating all my lines. Does that mean that you caught my neuroses via the horcrux?” it turned decidedly cheeky.
Tom shuddered with revulsion as he pocketed his wand. His weakness to Harry aside, this was something he definitely didn’t want to share. Still, he finally found the humour in the situation, and he broke into a reluctant smile.
“Away from me such a fate!” but he privately admitted that Harry was right, for him to have repeated the whole spiel, he must be in a pretty bad shape.

“Yet, you are right; I went a bit overboard, but then so did you.” if he was going to admit things he was going to draw the line too.
Harry sent him a definitely frosty glare.
“So I overstepped my boundaries?” his steely tones more than indicated that he wouldn’t like the consequences in a possible positive response, but then he continued and Tom was saved the indignity of answering him.
“Funny thing, you always treat me in relatively the same way.” Tom nodded courtly his assert.
Harry nodded too. . . but then he started it again. . .

“Does that mean that you will call Herm back and eat something?” he asked very earnestly.
Enough was enough; Tom’s magic started crackling. . .

“Harry. . .”
Harry didn’t seem to be bothered with it.

“Do you really want to not be a hundred percent when we interrogate Diggory or investigate the others?” he pointed out.
Tom cursed inwardly and conceded.

“You are going to eat too. You haven’t eaten a thing since yesterday noon. Don’t think that I haven’t noticed. . .”
Harry accepted it, looking happy.

“Alright.”
Balance restored, Tom smiled.

“I’m going to kill Granger, just so you know. . .” he wasn’t entirely joking.
A deep breath and it started. . .

“You aren’t going to hurt anyone. . .do you hear me. . .”
Tom didn’t get to enjoy the familiar tirade, Granger was back. . . She had brought half the cart too, including chocolate frogs. Harry hurried up to help her, almost stumbling on Diggory, and he had to hide his smirk.
“You better not leave me out the loop.” Hermione dared to demand after everything was arranged.
Harry snickered and muttered something like, “And you want to get marked. . .” he was intrigued, but still glared at her.
“Please?” she immediately amended.
. . .Oh yes, the balance was indeed restored, and things were looking rather intriguing. . .

Few minutes later, Tom could, privately, admit that he felt much better. They had polished everything, except a couple pastries, and he had shared reluctantly the frogs with Harry, to his partner’s discreet amusement. Really, that teasing smile was very needley, but he was keeping a very thorough tab.
Hermione had thankfully kept her hands to herself, but she kept muttering about the current prices and how frivolous a purchase it had been. He wanted to curse her, but instead he paid her, in full. Certainly to hide his reaction but mostly because no gentleman, never mind a Lord, should tolerate that a woman would pay for him.
. . .He was definitely going to deal with her in due time, even if it was going to take decades. Someday even Granger was going to screw up to the point of truly angering Harry, and he was going to be ready. . .
Harry looked at him curiously, as he was usually more frugal, but he just smiled mysteriously. He was going to take his sweet time to explain that one. . .
Tom hadn’t used all that time in frivolities, of course, that would have been beyond wasteful. He remembered to ask about Diggory’s affairs, and he had hit gold: According to Hermione it looked like the very handsome badger was engaged to a girl from the Smith family, a very rich and prestigious one, and if he recalled correctly, directly descendant from the Hufflepuff line.
. . .It really there was no end to Diggory père’s ambitions. . .
Harry’s reaction had been just as intriguing. He had flinched violently at the mention of the name, and he had tried to pass it as reaction to the information, but Tom wasn’t fooled. If Harry could handle talking about their own covering, he had no issue about other people’s business. It was definitely something else.
It crossed his mind that it was directed towards the very young, very redheaded, heiress but a closer look disregarded that notion as well. A mental probing was proved infective to gather more information, and he let the matter go, but only for the moment. He was well beyond intrigued at this point, but he was going to ply the information at a more private setting. . .
Finally, after he deigned to fill Granger with some details, he decided that it was time to wake the Hufflepuff. . .
Tom cast the counter spell but allowed Harry the first crack at the badger.
. . .It was going to prove amusing. . .
Sam’s reactions themselves definitely were. . .

He wasn’t awakened all at once, looking like into the grasp of a nightmare for some moments, twitching and turning as his conscious mind assimilated the reality.
Finally he shot, sitting up, shouting:
“Papa?”
It was fairly ridiculous; Sam was admittedly slightly broader and more muscled than him, but his voice, at that moment, was so pathetic and terrified that it could pass for a ten-year-old’s. Unfortunately, Harry didn’t see to share his sentiments, and that cut Tom’s amusement sort.

. . .He definitely regretted that decision. . .
Harry had grabbed Sam by his shoulders, holding him steadily but tender.

“It’s alright, Sam, it’s alright. We are going to take care of your father for you.” he told him as soothingly he could.
The Hufflepuff held to his partner, frantically, asking for reassurance for way too long.

“Harry?” he asked at least with his normal voice, seeming to coming back to himself, but very soon his meagre strength deserted him completely, and Harry lowered him back down with the utmost care.
Tom’s fists unclenched, but his torture hadn’t ended, not yet.
“Yes, Sam, glad that you are back with us. You are safe now.” Harry’s voice was at his warmest, and he comforted Sam like a child.
Diggory looked like he was forcing himself to stay conscious, and he grabbed Harry’s hands this time.

“Oh God, I was under Imperious. . .Please tell me I didn’t hurt anyone? . . .My dad. . . please. . .?”
Harry’s tone was very reassuring.

“No one got hurt because of you, that I promise. We are going to take care of your dad too. . .”
Tom knew that he must look beyond murderous at this point. Harry, bent over the badger, missed it completely, but Granger, who looked beyond sympathetic so far, noticed it, and paling with frigid, tried to get Sam’s attention and move things along.
“Sam, what really happened? Did he order you to hurt your dad?” it was almost shrill, and Tom heartily approved. He couldn’t have found a crueller thing to say.
Harry protested, rather vocally and quite insultingly for the dearest badger, but it did the trick, and Diggory forced himself to a better awareness.
“My dad? No. . . but Grindelwald must have gotten him. . . .” he tried to sit up again and Tom, very helpfully, added an enervate.
Harry glared daggers this time, but Tom merely looked at him.

If it was approximately beyond painful at Sam’s condition. . . well. . . Harry should have gotten the information, himself, not coddled the other. . .
“It’s alright, Harry,” obviously Diggory felt man enough to reassure. He hated it.
Few moments later Sam had had ridden out the painful part with only a couple pants in visible reaction and was, at present, aware enough to remember his manners.
“Miss Granger,” he even nodded courteously.

“Tom,” this time the tone was outright reverent,

“You saved me. . .” the bagger dared even to smile at him with dazzling and almost puppy-like eagerness.
Really, if he had been someone with a conscience it would have been bothering him a great deal. As it was, Tom was quite glad he didn’t have such a thing.
He considered for a moment how to react; he didn’t want games of manners and gratitude with that person, but it was far from useful, yet, to drop any pretence, so he just tilted his head in acknowledgement and offered a frosty smile.
Diggory lapped at that and continuing on offered his hand.

“Thank you!”
Under Harry’s inscrutable face and shrugging inwardly, Riddle accepted it, maybe for that. But when Sam added a second hand into the mix and squeezed his skin started crawling.

Really, there was a reason he preferred robe kissing as opposed to the hands variety, but thankfully the badger didn’t go that far and kept it short.
Courtesies served, Tom got to the subject that mattered.

“Don’t thank me; just tell me what makes you so sure that Grindelwald got a hold of your father, except his position.”
Sam sat beside Hermione and considered it for a moment.

“I’m not sure. It’s just a feeling I’ve got. You see, my father, while he talks to me about his work, it is never anywhere but at our home, and he is very circumspect with matters of confidentiality. The Chief Auror is even more tightly lipped than him, so nothing else makes much sense.”
“I see.” while it was a bit more conclusive from what he gathered from his mind, it didn’t add much to information.
“How did Grindelwald get to you?” Harry, while his partner used a friendlier tone than him, he was finally progressing to true interrogation.
Diggory sighed.

“I was dozing, and suddenly I saw white. I thought he was a healer.”
Tom barely held a derisive laugh. How idiotic could he be? But Harry was ready to protest, and he did it openly.
“Give him a break, he was at a hospital.”
This time he laughed outright, maybe because he was bothered with the defence, somewhat.
“He had taken skele-gro not draught of living death. We were under worse strain, and we didn’t lose our awareness of the place and people.”
Harry nodded sharply, conceding the point, but continued.

“Yeah, but this is us, he is different.”
Tom’s lips tightened.

“Remember it then, love, you said it yourself: he is different than us.”
Their eyes met in a silent battle, and they were absorbed in it until Granger coughed softly, breaking them up.
With his eyes returning to their object, there was a useful surprise waiting for him. Sam’s expression was somewhat glazed and was looking into empty air with a small smile to his lips.
A less suspicious or observant person would have assumed that the effect of the enervate was waning, but Tom was neither. The high red spots on the badger’s cheeks were a dead ringer too. Someone definitely had a kink. Then he noticed that Harry had noticed too, and his pleasure was out of the window.
Harry returned to the examination.

“When can we meet your father and the Chief Auror?”
Sam was startled by the question and blushed even heavier than before.
“My dad usually returns home around six thirty. I thought that it would be prudent to just take you there. He can Firecall Uncle Nestor, sorry, the Chief Auror, afterwards.”
From the badger it wasn’t a completely ridiculous plan, still. . .

“Unacceptable. It will take far too long.”
“It is a perfectly sound plan,” Granger dared to contradict him.

“It’s not like you can apparate from a moving train.”
Tom merely smirked at her.
. . .Just what she knows. . .
But Diggory lowered his head, looking ashamed.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I don’t know the code at the floo.” one more apologetic smile was directed entirely at Harry, obviously a reminding of a previous conversation.
“Can’t you help us anyway else at all?” Harry’s question was both to their benefit and to ease the badger.
Sam thought it for a moment.
“I don’t know if the public place will work for you, but my father and uncle usually dine at the ‘La Marseillaise’ at two every afternoon.”
Harry considered it and seemed more relaxed.
“We will need to borrow from Brax or Alphard, but it will work.” a genuine grateful smile towards the Hufflepuff, when it should be the other way around.

“Thank you!”
Tom considered it too, seriously. One point, the most exclusive restaurant at Diagon Alley, not bad! The other, he cast a tempus, a quarter till twelve, still unacceptable. He called his followers back.
“We won’t. Abraxas can give us just as easily the aforementioned code.”
Harry, examined him again, but after he was convinced that was capable of doing it, he accepted it without fuss, for once his contrary nature conceding to his need to avoid been indebted, at least in money. The rapid conversation that followed could have happened silently, even without their link, they knew each other that well. . .
Tom couldn’t help a gloating smile, although he was touching a risky topic.
‘See, you could have gone to Abraxas, you didn’t need him.’ his glance pointed at Sam.
Harry looked skywards.
‘Yeah right, even if he just given me the information, I would still need to obliviate him afterwards.’
Tom raised both eyebrows.
‘So?’
Harry glared.
‘I don’t obliviate friends.’
Tom tried to look hurt.
‘You attempted it with me, twice.’
Harry tried to hide his smile.
‘You are special!’
Both burst simultaneously into laughter.
The next moment they returned their attention to the others. Sam looked just mystified, having no idea of their link, but Hermione was beyond agitated.
“Please reconsider. It’s too dangerous; you could get splinted, or worse.”
Harry tried to calm her.

“We will be alright Hermione; I know that we can handle it.”
Her lips tightened, and she looked ready to start a tirade, but Tom didn’t have either time or inclination to hear her. He needed her for a job too.
“Granger, go and find Watkins and Pierce and bring them here.”
“What for?” that was from everyone.
Tom couldn’t help rolling his eyes.
“I need them for a job,” he addressed Sam.

“Any favourite, for the moment?”
Sam coloured violently and avoided at all costs to look towards Harry.
“What for?” he asked again. Tom didn’t say a word, just continued looking at Diggory. The badger lasted a whole minute and then caved.

“Timothy Goldstein. We are partnered at potions.” he looked like he had offered his friend to death.
Tom was turning frustrated. The Hufflepuff had no idea, and even Granger was so involved calculating their odds surviving the moving apparition that she had missed his plan completely. Only Harry seemed to have the barest idea. He sighed inwardly and shared it to the last detail to ensure their cooperation. The day that he would mark them and finish with such tediousness wasn’t coming fast enough.
“As far as this train and the general wizarding population are concerned, Samuel Diggory was adducted and/or murdered en route to King’s Cross today. That will remain so until the end of vacation to the very least. Do you understand?” everyone nodded, and Harry mock saluted him, he didn’t mind.
“Granger, after Watkins and Pierce see proof that Diggory is, in fact, alive, you will organise Goldstein’s apprehension with total secrecy and will personally obliviate and stun him. The memories you will implant will consist of Sam approaching him for a reinstatement of their affair after he accepted that he can’t have Harry; that they were stunned mid-snog, and that he never saw who took Diggory.”
Hermione didn’t seem too happy with the very detailed orders, but she accepted them grimly and appeared thoughtful at how to induce a real-like forced memory.
“Dictator much?” Harry teased him, but it wasn’t a contradiction or a challenge to the orders themselves.
Tom couldn’t help but smile.

“Like you don’t know it.”
Diggory was the one that had a problem with the plan but was so distracted with the parseltongue, again, that she was already at the door when he voiced his complaint.
“Wait?”
Tom smirked at him.

“Do you have another preference Diggory?”
“No!” he blushed, tomato like, and looked like he was kicking inwardly himself.

“I mean, can’t talk to him instead?”
That was predictable.

“No, you are already dead.” he put it dryly.
Sam blanched more with the way he said it than the words themselves, and Harry took pity on him.
“There is a possibility that he will speak, even unwillingly.”
This time Diggory had no choice but to accept, however he finally voiced his true concern.

“If he is so confused, won’t he speak from his impression?”
Again Harry spoke for him.

“No, he will admit anything but this, and it will add even more chaos.” Tom was really enjoying the way their minds worked in parallel lines, at times.
“Ah.” it was certainly food for thought for dearest Diggory.
Granger had watched the whole conversation by the doorway, amused.

“Any other orders?”
Tom glared at her, but miracle of miracles Sam had something constructive to add.

“Roger and Imogen are at the fifth wagon to the right.”
Just in time his three followers returned with barely a dent into their orders, although Harry, to his extreme disappointment, found fifty people compared to the timeframe more than acceptable. But it didn’t come to become a disagreement between them. There were far more serious matters than this, like Harry going straight for Prince, taking him aside and demanding to heal Diggory outright.
Tom, naturally, took offence and all but slammed his objection at Harry’s mind. Those bruises had been Sam’s punishment, of which Harry himself had agreed upon his right to administer, if he had been harder on him than on his followers it was well deserved, he refused to remember the nearly out of control feelings of the moment and his glare told his partner that he was going to regret it if he tested him in this.
Unsurprisingly Harry didn’t much care for his reaction and had his defence ready, bringing forth the, admittedly, sound reasoning that they couldn’t take him to his father in that state. His own simple counter of Parsel glamours was rejected on the again almost valid point that it could wear off and expose them before Diggory could take care of the matter at his house.
It was unlikely of course, but Tom allowed himself to give in with the quiet resolution to dice out something worst, Harry should have known better than expecting much mercy from him in this. The whole debate took time, even at mind to mind. He was finishing with his latest orders when Granger returned with the others in tow.
“We will probably return right around six. From this time forward you will stay in the compartment in the most permissible distance so that we could use the marks.”
“You plan to return too?” she screeched.
Tom wondered if it was her voice, so reminiscent to his mother’s, that had gotten her with the younger male Weasley, but he kept his own voice very calm.
“Yes, we will, it will be too suspicious in another case. We’ll need just coordinates, simple things.”
Black muttered something about, “Simple for him,” but as it wasn’t contradicting him he let him be.
Harry had heard the danger to his voice and had interrupted his greetings to the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff couple just in case he needed to play mediator, but he didn’t need to. He had far more interesting things to do than curse Granger. But as his eyes caught the wide-eyed and very blushing couple he wondered if he should change his mind. Had she left no one that she hadn’t dragged into his business the blasted woman?
. . .He contemplated exploding the train. . .
“Tom?” Harry sounded worried; he supposed he could deal with them at his return.
But after his partner transfigured Diggory again and put him on his own pocket he decided that there was a thing that he was definitely going to deal with, right about now.
The moment the others cleared the way for them to apparate and Harry was almost to his arms he concentrated fully on his lover’s mark, making every pleasure mark he had left on his body to tingle simultaneously like the moment it was received, but only the shadow of the sensation and for barely a fraction of a second.
Harry shuddered, his whole body quivering like a string.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”
Tom smiled wickedly.

“That, my sweet love, is a tenth of what will happen to you in front of all our friends if you ever cuddle Diggory or any other man or even woman, again.” simple facts.
Harry understood that, and the deadly rage was balanced with mortification.

“I wasn’t cuddling. . .”
. . .And they were at Diagon Alley. . .
- 9
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The Fate Changed Now What?