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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
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Harry's pov
Harry donned his Quidditch attire, feeling quite relieved, for once, to be out of Tom's presence for most of the day. Four weeks had already passed since their‘Understanding’ after Walburga's punishment. Understanding, being, of course, a huge understatement. . . He had been right. Nothing had basically changed between him and Tom, yet nothing was the same.
Tom had reacted predictably, pretending it never happened, just like he'd expected. Harry had tried to wait for him until he was ready but when Tom had annoyed him in one of their training sessions he had lost his cool and things had got downright ugly from there.
Harry closed his eyes, remembering, and trying to figure out how he got in such a mess.

They had started training in the chamber, as he had promised, since Tom had kept his part of the deal and they had started organizing study groups in the R-room from each class.
The problem was that the repeated combination of the disturbing place, the use of even more deadlier curses than usual and, worse, his new awareness of how Tom was affecting him, made it impossible to completely hide it. One day, after the fourth time he found himself thrown in the dark waters of the ditch, even Tom had enough of it.
“Harry what's wrong with you?”

The Slytherin Heir had crossed his arms and was scolding him for all it was worth.

Harry had got out of the water without help - Tom seemed more likely to drown him than aid him!
“Nothing is wrong with me,” he returned
“Really, darling,” Tom tsked, “nothing is such a peculiar word. Normally you would have dodged or shielded most of what I've thrown at you, but today you only end up taking a swim. Something must be wrong.”
Harry really didn't like that patient, measured, tone.

“Alright, you got me, the chamber is getting to my nerves, badly, but I will get used to it, don't worry.”
Tom didn't look convinced.

“Try harder, golden boy. There is some truth in that, but we've been training here two whole weeks and it's only today your performance has turned so abysmal. Tell me,” he ordered.
“Why the hell you do care so much?” Harry asked, almost bitterly.
Tom raised an eyebrow.

“You know better than this, Harry, now spill. . .”
“Tom, leave it,” he half commanded, half pleaded, his friend.
“Why should I?” Tom had gotten closer to him again.

“You are wound up tighter than a steel coil; you could get yourself killed. What's the point in having a girlfriend if she doesn't take care of you?”
Harry's head snapped up. He was beyond enraged, so much so that the words left his lips before he could stop them.
“Oh yeah, then why pray tell are you in the same shape as me? You hide it well, but I could tell that in the past week you have been only a step above homicidal, why? Doesn't H. . .”
Harry stopped, horrified, as his brain caught up with his mouth. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to contemplate on Tom and Herm's relationship, never mind insulting her like that. He wished with all his heart for the Basilisk to descend and eat him.
A moment passed, he opened his eyes, not quite sure when he had closed them. Tom didn't look murderous, merely contemplative, with a strange smile twisting his lips. Harry's stomach dropped into the abyss. He wanted to run far away, but he wasn't a coward, so he stood there trying to look prepared for whatever tornado his unthinking words had unleashed.
“I thought it was something like that.” Tom's voice was so soft it could barely be heard, but it sent goose bumps flittering across Harry's skin.

“Not an easy thing to indulge, at either side of the spectrum, is it? Especially with your Lioness. . .”
Harry gave the other a look. He wasn't sure he understood what Tom meant, but it certainly wasn't what he expected.
“Tom?” he asked, completely baffled.
“Shh, I understand, it's alright. It's not the first time for me that I've become horny after torturing, but they're not the kind of desires I could indulge with Hermione, I respect her too much for that.”
Suddenly Harry understood. All blood rushed out of his face.

“Tom, I'm not like that, I don't get off on others' pain.”
Tom all but rolled his eyes.

“I know that Harry, but I doubt that your Minnie would be any more comfortable if you asked her to hurt you as opposed to you hurting her.”
Enough!

“I have told you a hundred times before - I'm not a masochist!” he all but shouted.
Tom fixed him with a level gaze.

“Really, then how do you explain the previous Saturday?”
Harry's eyes widened as he finally got the complexity of Tom's trap. He was between a rock and a hard place. It was impossible to admit his true feelings in such circumstances while Tom got out of this virtually untouched. Harry had to hand it to his friend, this was masterfully played.
Tom's expression softened.
“Don't look at me like that, Harry, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Let me take care of you, sweetheart, just for tonight.”

The words were all but purred.
Harry swallowed hard, his throat suddenly parched, doing his damnest best to not show how affected he was. Where the hell had Tom found such sensuality in his voice?
Masterful?

More like genius kind of plan! Tom wasn't holding anything back and if he got his way he could even get to touch without giving up on anything. Maybe, as far as six months ago, Harry would have been already by the door after something like that, but not tonight.
There was only a single way for him to win this and Harry wanted it. He wanted to bury his fingers in his friend's hair, to force that arrogant mouth to his own, and make Tom eat up his words. Harry knew perfectly well what he had seen that night and it had nothing to do with Tom's sadistic side. Maybe this was the only way for him to ever have Tom. Matter of factly and no big deal at all, like everything of a more personal level between them. Harry could happily live with that.
He couldn't though. It wasn't that he was afraid that Tom was going to hurt him with his sadistic tendencies; he really doubted that his friend had any experience except actual torture. Truthfully, he was sure that before Hermione, Tom was totally ignoring whatever, if anything, happening under his belt.
It wasn't even the thought of Hermione that was giving him the real pause, for all his guilt and deep aversion into hurting her. Though it had been proved once again that, even if he didn't love her, Tom held her in very high regard.
The true problem was that Tom didn't really want this. Or, even if he did, he wasn't ready. Harry would have been certain of this, even if he couldn't sense the faint wisps of uneasiness, Tom's actions spoke louder than anything. In normal circumstances Tom couldn't keep his hands to himself, recently, and especially tonight, his friend had kept his distance at all times.
Tom wasn't ready and Harry couldn't and wouldn't force the issue. He loved the other too much for it.
If that was making him weak, so be it.
His friend, on the other hand, looked like he planned to never face their emotional component; Harry supposed that he could live with that.
He smiled.

“Thanks for the offer, Tom, but I'd rather we didn't.”
Tom frowned.

“Why?”
What Harry heard was: ‘If you love me, why not?’
It made his smile gentler.

“I value our friendship too much to screw it up,” he told Tom in complete honesty.
“I see,” Tom answered. And that was that.
The matter was closed forever from now on.
It was not in any way or form going to be truly satisfactory, but, in a way, that he could live with. In Harry's experience those solutions tended to last longer.
Emotional matters aside, Tom had brought forth something serious.
“Speaking of problems, I'm not the only one who is spiralling. What's wrong with you? You have been absent this week except when we train the upper years until they are ready to fall down, and then we spar ourselves until we actually fall. You are so tired that it's affecting you - you almost took Brax's head off yesterday. It's not like you to lose control.” he grew more worried with each word.
One corner of Tom's mouth lifted in a bitter smile.

“If you wish it,” he said in clear warning.
Harry's insides plummeted, for Tom to consent that easily it wasn't going to be pleasant.

“You never wondered why I agreed to Hermione's plan for us, to eliminate, concealed, both Dumbledore and Grindelwald at their duel.”
Harry gulped, he was right; it wasn't going to be anywhere near pleasant.
“Not too deeply, I understand that Dumbledore must die now, without our obvious direct involvement, for us to have a future and Grindelwald too. The pragmatism was too indisputable to even put forth other considerations.” he admitted, bitterly, at the last part.
“And now that plan is impossible.” Tom's tone was completely flat.
Harry's eyes flashed.

“I already apologised for that.”
Tom smirked.
“Don't get in a huff, darling, I wasn't lecturing you. Truthfully, if we manage to pull this off the results will be much more to my taste than the previous plan anyway.”
Harry latched immediately to the problem.

“If we manage to pull this off? Why if? We survived Voldemort.”
Tom regarded him calmly.
“We survived Voldemort because I was intimate with his secrets and completely able to predict his behaviour, to a lesser extent so were you. I know nothing about Grindelwald except all we’ve read in the papers and everything Hermione had that reporter dig back in your time. He also possesses the elder wand. I would have preferred another ten or twelve more years of intense study to be completely confident in facing him.”
Harry stayed silent for a few moments. He had no idea Tom was that worried, and it was putting a new spin in many matters.
“I wasn't taking things completely lightly,” he tried to reassure. “We’re going to face him together, not apart, and we have the elder wand from the future, though admittedly we're not using it because we don't know what would happen. . . but it could still neutralise his,” Harry continued with confidence.

“We are going to survive this. Hell, even Dumbledore bested him.”
The last part got a chuckle out of Tom.
“I never said we were sitting ducks, golden boy, I just prefer the odds more staked in our favour when we fight for our lives.”
Harry relaxed.

“I don't believe you, you live for the challenge.”
Tom leaned against the wall.
“Maybe, but if I believed we didn't stand a chance I would have taken you and the rest of our people to Peru, or somewhere further, regardless of your complaints on the matter.”
“I know.”
A moment of comfortable silence passed.
“I suppose that I could study more and not just concentrate on helping others.” Harry said, with fake reluctance.

“I will see what Zev and Brax can lend me - you and Herm are hogging everything of Alphard's,” he complained mildly.
Tom flashed him his teeth.

“Do that. I've told you a thousand times, if you applied yourself a bit more you could seriously challenge Hermione, or even me.”
Harry tilted his head in acknowledgement of the compliment but instead said.

“I'm not dropping Quidditch.”
An innocent rising of eyebrows. . .

“Did I ask you to?”
They resumed their duel; Harry was much more successful this time.

After that, Harry was resigned to the future, if not outright content, but Tom, contrary bastard that he was, was in no way ready to leave things as they were.
He spent very special gentlemanly attention on Hermione in their common room, not simply retiring in their room like he usually did, to the point that it was causing her to look slightly embarrassed, and making his seriousness about her a common conversation topic among the general student populace.
That, Harry was expecting, even if he would have been much better without having it thrown at his face, but Tom's behaviour in private was much more puzzling and infuriating. He kept regaling him with small stories about Hermione, snaking tiny, intimate details in wherever he could, or asking insistently at how his relationship with Minerva was going. If the first foray into that matter was incidental the later ones were anything but. . .
Someone innocent could believe Tom's actions as simply to be those of someone in love, or overcompensating, but Harry knew better. It was too deliberate, designed specifically to either have him hot and bothered or seething with jealousy, and unable to say a thing after closing matters himself.
Harry would have loved to find something to excuse his friend's actions, like insecurity, or jealousy, but he wasn't kidding himself. This was the favourite of Tom's games; having others chasing him but never getting close enough to touch. He was probably delighted at having Harry under his power in such a way. But Harry remembered Lestrange and it sent chills down his spine.
He know things were building again inside him, and he feared that someday soon he was going to get another crescendo that wasn't going to be pretty for anyone involved. A solution for Harry would have been to leave for a while, even for as little as the incoming Christmas vacation, to cool off and clear his head, but he knew Tom and he weren't going to go along on that idea.
His friend was going to see this as either a direct betrayal, with Harry nowhere near ready to go down that route (he had invested too much on Tom and the future of this world to even consider it) or worse, a direct challenge that he would accept nothing less than having Tom all to himself in every which way.
Harry wasn't kidding himself; he knew that he was probably important enough to Tom that he could concede to that. And that it was only going to end in complete disaster, no matter how appealing it was in his darkest dreams. . . and not merely for the suffering that it was going to bring Hermione.
Tom and he were straining already, with the added feelings. If they added sex into the mix, without being ready to give everything, things were going to turn beyond violent. They were going to destroy themselves.
Something needed to be done.

“Isn't this a bit intense for wool gathering?” Abraxas' sardonic voice brought him to the present.
If Harry didn't have excellent reflexes he would have found himself face down.
“Hey guys, what's going on?”
“Quidditch!” Alphard shouted rather enthusiastically.
Harry found himself smiling; thankfully he had never lost his passion for the game.
Zevi bit his lips.

“I'm not that sure you should play, Harry, you seemed rather lost, are you sick?”
“I'm alright, Zev, of course I'm going to play.” he flashed of smile for caring, but his tone was firm.
“Oh, I don't know,” Abraxas' had a strange smile, “I wouldn't want you to fall from your broom and lose us the game.”
“Brax,” Harry tried for patience, “You've know me how many years? Have you ever seen me falling from my broom or losing a game?”
Abraxas shrugged. “Diggory is tricky.”
“Yeah,” Alphard took it from there, “Ever since his second year he rarely loses a game - before you came it was rather frustrating.”
“I'll do my best,” Harry told them simply.

A sudden thought crossed his mind.

“His grandson was even better.”
“Yeah?” Zevi was examining him closely.
“Yeah.” Harry relaxed.
He had never talked about Cedric with his friends, except for Tom, maybe it was time; perhaps, if things went alright this time someday he was going to witness him as champion.

Out in the Quidditch pitch before the game Harry got a weird surprise. Up front, in the Slytherin stands, he was pretty sure that Tom was sitting with Hermione. Herm always cheered him on his games but Tom never bothered coming. Something was up. Also, if he wasn't mistaken he could make out tartan. Why the hell was Minerva sitting with them? Something was definitely going on.
Alphard came besides him and followed his gaze.

“You are pretty lucky you know.”
That was uncharacteristically solemn from the Black heir. Harry hummed uncommitted.
Alphard's eyes remained focused on tartan.
“She is beautiful, talented, loyal; amazing on a broom, the Quidditch pitch seems empty without her, you know. She even moved past the fact you're Slytherin and, knowing you, Salazar knows what else. I know she's not Tom, but you could have something amazing with her, don't screw it up.”
Harry was speechless. He didn't appreciate the mention of Tom but that wasn't what had him tongue-tied.

“You're in love with her.”
Grey eyes focused on him without the usual humour.

“I don't want to interfere in your relationship, but I don't want her to get hurt.” Please don't kill me, remained unsaid.
Harry examined things at lighting speed; he even used a tiny bit of Legilimency without shame. Tom could have very easily ordered Alphard to do it. But, thankfully, his friend was genuine.
This was untying his hands.
“Minerva is not really my girlfriend, merely a close friend. She is covering for me after I got bored from people whispering behind my back that Tom dropped me and she was trying to get Dumbledore's attention.”
Alphard's eyes got alight at the first part but his nose creased at the second.

“For real?” he asked.
Harry smiled.

“I don't believe she is after him any more but I'm not completely certain.”
Alphard's face hardened.

“The old geezer is never going to get a chance with her.”
“Good!”
Alphard turned apologetic.

“You really don't mind?”
Things turned perfectly.

“Not at all, if you treat her right I will be ecstatic for you two.”
“Are you kidding me? I wanted her for years; if she wants me I will never give her a reason to leave me. Hell, even as an old lady she was hot.”
Harry made a face. He really didn't need to hear that.
“Are you sure that I have a chance with her?”

Alphard's voice was hesitant again after the surge of enthusiasm.
Harry remembered the weakness the older Minerva was always showing towards Sirius and his pranks and didn't have the slightest doubt.
“I believe you are just her type.”
Alphard beamed.
But Harry had remembered something else.

“What about your family?”
Alphard didn't hesitate.

“Screw them. This is a new age and time, I want her.”
Harry believed him. Alphard's voice wasn't wavering at all and his eyes were shining with passion and a determination that the Black heir rarely showed. This was going to last.
“If you two have finished your chat the game is about to begin.” Abraxas' interrupted smoothly
The Quidditch team aligned themselves and two minutes later Harry was shaking hands with Samuel Diggory.
The Hufflepuff seeker was tall and muscular but not overly so. He should have been better as a keeper with his strong frame but he was such a crafty flyer that he could even give Harry pause. His colours were darker than Cedric's but his face resembled his grandson's a great deal.
“May the best team win.”
“May the best team win.”
They exchanged the traditional words and if they were more heartfelt than common for the antagonistic Slytherins no one looked at them strangely - Harry was an atypical Slytherin.
Harry also noticed that Sam kept his hand a few seconds more than customary for the usual handshake and that he kept examining him from head to toe. Normally, such things got right past him, by choice, but the whole thing with Tom had hyper sensitized his nerves.
He blushed lightly under the other's apprising gaze, feeling far more flattered than annoyed. A small smirk grazed his lips; he was going to give the Hufflepuff something to follow with his eyes.

Tom's pov

Tom's hand was itching to curse the woman sitting next to him. Minerva in turn was glaring at him like she would love nothing more than to throw him off the stands. Their feelings were completely mutual but he refused to honour her by showing her that he regarded her as a threat.
He needed her after all. . .
After four weeks of constant research he'd found some things that, corresponding with Granger's study, had the potential to keep them alive at the transition of Harry absorbing the horcrux without his whole soul rebelling. None of them were exactly pleasant or wholesome and normally Harry wouldn't accept any of these remedies at wandpoint.
Thankfully he had that handy oath to back him up. Unfortunately, even the most potential of those treatments were, just that, possibilities. There was no guarantee that any of them would work, not like the Stone. That returned him back to Minerva.
The Transfigurations apprentice had her eyes trained to the sky, ignoring him with everything she had. Granger was trying almost frantically to get her attention but Tom gestured for her to stop. Cat-girl wanted to play; he was going to let her. While the matter was urgent and he was an impatient person at heart, he could wait. It would be unseemly for him to leave before the match was over anyway. After all, he had played these kinds of games a thousand times before with far betters than dearest Minerva and they were going to be there for hours.
Harry was in a playful mood and was leading the badger all around the stadium in all kinds of crazy stunts. Tom had to grit his teeth more than once, but he didn't doubt that Harry knew what he was doing. The Hufflepuff followed each and every move with his eyes trained on a specific place.
Tom's eyes narrowed. He was dying to jinx the badger's broom, to teach the bastard where to keep his eyes, but, even if his oath wasn't binding, he couldn't do a thing. Harry was never going to forgive him if he did. He had glimpsed enough times in his friend's mind a face almost identical to the current Hufflepuff.
Harry pulled a very daring loop with the other seeker barely managing to not crash. For all that his heart was logged in his throat, Tom was heavily entertained. Quidditch as a whole bored him to tears, but a competition between seekers was something different.
Harry was born to fly. At that moment he embodied everything ferocious, powerful and free, and Tom longed to be with him. He was never going to be comfortable with a simple piece of wood, but under his own power it was something different. If Gramps had managed to invent a spell for that he could do it too, thrice better. Someday, when there was finally some time for a bit of leisure he was going to create it and share it with Harry. . .
“Riddle, you are an idiot,” Minerva spat out of the blue.
“Excuse me?” he questioned icily, but he was completely mortified on the inside. He tightened the privacy wards around them.
This was the first time in his life that Tom had been caught completely unaware of his surroundings. Harry was right; the lack of sleep was leading him to make stupid mistakes. The complex circumstances weren't an excuse for such foolishness. He resolved then and there that he was going to get eight hours sleep this week, even if he had to nick a timeturner from the ministry.
Minerva's smile held cattish delight.
“I called you an idiot, Tom,” she replied, not backing down an inch. “You are all but drooling looking at Harry, but doing nothing. Even a saint can lose patience.”
Granger snickered inside her scarf and Tom sent her a venomous glare - he would deal with her later, firstly, he had to regain his ground with the other bitch. She had shaken him out of extreme conditions, nothing more.
“Are you telling me to stay away from your boyfriend, Minerva dear?” he asked, smirking, his tone alone promising pain beyond belief.
Minerva didn't flinch. Instead, she snorted rudely, very much like her older counterpart.

“We both know that's rubbish, else you would have thrown me from the highest stairs.”
It was true; he was keeping a very close eye at Harry's activities, they were never alone for a prolonged time, especially in her quarters. A stone snake opposite her door reported regularly of that.
The fact that he didn't react at all to her words had her shaken for the first time.

“You really would!”
Tom merely smiled.
Minerva wetted her lips.

“He wouldn't stand for it.”
Tom was very disappointed, he'd expected better from Minerva, now, than having her retreat behind Dumbledore's shadow. He decided to really scare her.
“Would it really matter, dearest Minerva, what Dumbledore will do? You would be dead after all.”
Minerva looked relieved if nothing else.
“Not Dumbledore, Harry. He wouldn't stand for something like that. You would have ended right besides me in the hospital wing and you wouldn't have killed me no matter what you are saying. . .”
Tom had to examine her then, how much had Harry told her? Strangely enough, nothing, she had deduced everything just by watching them. Not that Harry and he were exactly subtle, but her observation skills were far better than he had given her credit for. Maybe she really could manage the mission.
But what truly impressed him was how vast her devotion to Harry was. . .Granger never accepted anything at face value and had the gall to double check his own calculations. . . Then again, Cat-girl had shown the same dedication to Dumbledore and Harry had spoken more truth to her in a month than the professor in fifty years. She was indeed going to prove useful.
However, the few seconds it took him to read her mind she had regrouped.
“. . .But if you are going to kill me, better to put some things out my chest first.” An unobservant person would have believed she was joking but the steely determination in her eyes told otherwise.

“If you are keeping Harry at arms length out of ambition, as I believe you do, you are going to regret it. He will be forced to either leave you completely, or to love someone else, else he breaks. Do you really want that?”
She took a deep breath.
“And you,” she turned to a, so far, rather entertained Hermione.

“Harry speaks very highly of you and I have observed you in lessons, you are very intelligent, you could even reach Unspeakable for all the chauvinistic mindsets. What are you doing attaching yourself upon this one's arm? Yes, he's charismatic and will probably become Minister one day soon, but is that worth living a lie? Destroying Harry? If that is what you want, please leave him alone. He hardly needs friends like that.”
Granger's eyes, pathetically, filled with tears but her voice was firm.

“It's not like that. You don't know all the facts; you can't really judge me.”
Minerva's face was pitiless.

“Maybe, but I don't care, if you'll excuse me?” she got up, looking ready to sit a few seats to the left and leave them alone.
Curiously, Tom didn't want to wring her neck. Harry's horcrux must have affected him a great deal.
“You would leave before finding out the reason of the invitation? I asked you here after all.” he asked softly, but with an undertone of steel.
“You mean other than threatening me?” she tried for a teasing tone but it came out unnerved. She had obviously prepared her previous speech.
Tom smiled.

“Of course, please sit down.”
She did, starting to look scared.
Tom was blunt.

“Harry is dying; the only thing that can really save him is the Philosopher's Stone.”
Minerva started trembling but Tom had already lived that scenario once.
“Oh please, don't pull a Granger,” he told her derisively.
Minerva's dark eyes filled with hate.

“You're lying.”
Gryffindor women! Tom was getting really tired.

“Unfortunately not, I could swear on my magic if you want.”
Minerva didn't look any less suspicious. She examined Harry, flying relatively near, and pursed her lips.

“He doesn't look sick.”
Tom's nerves were on a fine edge. If she backed off now he was going to obliviate her hard, curse her even harder and Imperio her at the first chance he got.
“It's not that kind of sickness.”
“He's telling the truth, Merlin helps us, he really does; we could lose Harry,” Granger rushed in.
“You really care?” Minerva was stunned.
Granger huffed. “Of course I care, Harry is my best friend, and it's so very difficult to keep things from him. . .”
Tom's profound irritation wasn't fading. Granger seemed to help, but. . .

“Are you with us?”
Minerva froze, turning to look, purposely, at him.
“My true allegiance is with Harry, as long as your aims concur with his, or are to his benefit, you have it as well.”

She lowered her head very deliberately.

“What will you have me do, my Lord?”
Tom didn't expect such a deep acquiesce. She meant it to her core. Harry may not understand it every time, but in his own instinctual way he acquired followers just as much as Tom did. People felt his intentions, together with everything else, and were ready to die for him. He needed to find a way to hold even the minimal control over them. . .
“I want you to spy on Dumbledore until you find the secret location of the Flamel house, or the Philosopher's Stone's. . .”
Minerva nodded her acceptance.

“I will, my Lord.”
Pureblood training and etiquette was showing even in one from a Light family.
“. . .and I want you to tell Dumbledore about the lessons, but avoid at all costs saying the specific location.”
Both girls looked at him, wild eyed.
“Tom you never mentioned something like that. . .” Granger started.
He tried to ignore her but she grabbed his arm. Tom removed her hand from his person very deliberately. Engaged charade, or not, only Harry had the right to touch him like that.
“You are forgetting your place,” he hissed.
Granger glared daggers at him.
“My place. . . Ha! I'm not one of your followers, I'm doing this to help Harry and you are going to hurt him. He has given his whole soul to that project. I'm sure that we can find a hundred other ways to cause misdirection.”
Tom wanted very much to slap her bloody. The last thing he needed was to have the other girl starting to doubt him again. They were already bolstering the fighting spirit of each other. This could be a problem.
“I know you can,” he told Granger, deceptively sweetly,

“but can you honestly say that even one of them will be at least half as effective? How much time do you need for the calculations?” he couldn't help pushing her.
Granger had read the threat between the lines and paled considerably. Good, she had started to understand in how a deep pile of crap she was in. Still, after the last dig her jaw firmed and her eyes unfocused as she indeed started calculating. A few moments later she nodded, obviously reluctant.
Minerva was looking from one to the other, pale as death. She had probably understood more than enough but needed confirmation.
“Why?” was all she asked.
Tom forced his expression to soften. He was definitely keeping them apart at all costs.
“Your allegiance, as you put it, is hardly a secret in this school, you'll need strong bait for Dumbledore to believe you and relax in your presence, even marginally. If need be, tell him you are afraid that I will teach the students dark arts, it will get his attention.”
Minerva didn't look any more pleased but nodded her acceptance.
“. . .Harry is never going to forgive you, us.” Granger said mournfully, “No matter how much it could help in the long run.”
Tom flashed them a wicked smile.
“Don't be so fast, dear Granger. Give me some credit. I doubt he'll cut the lessons immediately; he will want to find out what we are teaching first. Also, he is not the headmaster, I can plead to Dippet.” he couldn't hide the disgust from his face at the prospect but if it was necessary he would do it.

“Worse comes to worst, we continue the lessons even under direct decline. I doubt that the older years will be ready to give them up.”
He really enjoined their expressions of awed surprise.
“You thought about everything!” Minerva admitted, grudgingly impressed.
“I play to win, ladies, I play to win.”

Hermione's pov

A few hours after the end of the Quidditch game Hermione left their quarters, almost fleeing, tearfully. Tom hadn't hurt her, especially to his standards, but, far worse than the mild pain curses to keep her attention, was the dressing down she received.
Tom had a vicious tongue and she had started to believe he spared her, most of the time. Not this time though. They were almost the worst two hours in her life and she had wished she was dead more than once in their tenure. Add the fact that Minerva had practically despised her before she learned the truth and Hermione wasn't sure she could take it any more.
In her true time she had deeply respected her old head of house and here, in the past, that opinion was constantly reinforced, yet, she couldn't enjoy the same respect. Even now, Minerva knew the truth, but it didn't change the fact that her previous opinion was probably shared by the majority of the school.
Worst of all, Harry, her friend, her brother, the only person she could truly trust in this mad world, had started to turn to Minerva instead of her and she could do nothing about it, except lie to him again and continue hurting him every day, for his own good. . .
Hermione laughed almost hysterically at that. If only she could truly believe that. . . Damn Tom to hell and back for his obsession with secrecy.
She couldn't do it anymore, not alone.
Her steps lead her to one of the small potion labs in the dungeons that professor Slughorn opened for the use of his NEWTs students. She rapped softly on the door and waited patiently for the few moments it took the room's occupant to stabilise his potion and come to greet her.
Zevi half opened the door, looking ready to glare at the one that dared to interrupt him at his work. The tip of his wand was barely visible at the end of his sleeve.
Upon seeing Hermione his expression softened immediately, but he still looked puzzled.
“Hermione?” he asked, visibly at a loss. She usually didn't interrupt his work, except if they had a project together;

“Come, come.” he had her ushered in the room and sitting in a chair before she could even find her voice.
Hermione found herself relaxing. She loved being in Zev's workroom, there was such a peace there. Much like Ron, when he was playing chess, Zevi was in a state of absolute ease and control of his surroundings, ruling everything.
Tom did the same everywhere, not only in his intimate sanctum, but the feeling he was giving off wasn't peace but crackling energy. Even Harry couldn't offer peacefulness; life had forced him to so much pressure that she doubted that he really knew the true meaning of the word.
If only she could simply succumb to that serenity forever.
“What are you doing here?” Zevi's voice was soft, almost tender, but it brought her to the present with a start.
Hermione still couldn't speak; she could only raise her head and look at Zevi.
The softness turned to something fierce as he examined her over the better light of the room. Hermione blushed profoundly as gentle fingers traced the air over her tearstains.
“Did Tom hurt you? Do you need a potion?”
Hermione had never heard the Prince heir's voice so controlled. They had become kind of friends during the last year or so, but she could have never dreamed that he cared that much. Even if it never crossed his mind to stand up to Tom for her, it was touching that he wanted to take care of her.
“I'm okay, he didn't hurt me; it would have been simpler if he did,” she whispered.
Zevi took it in stride, got a chair and sat besides her.
“What happened?”
Hermione opened her mouth to pour out her problems, but she couldn't. What if she got Zev hurt? Tom never mentioned if his oath covered his followers or if it was only directed at her. She rather doubted it. Harry wasn't foolish enough to give his independence only for her sake, but she also doubted that Tom could give even the slightest control over his followers.
It was a mistake for her to come here.
She rose abruptly and headed for the door. Zev was faster and got in front of her before she could open it. Strangely, as she collided with him, instead of backing off and politely asking him to make way, she collapsed in his arms and started crying.
Zevi didn't move an inch, he simply held her protectively as she finally released out everything that had been torturing her for the last month. Her panic and horror about Harry's condition, her helplessness to do something that really made a difference, her fright of Tom and his anger, her absolute self-loathing for hurting Harry again and again. She poured out everything, all without saying a word.
When her tears had finally stopped Zev led her back to her chair and sat besides her.

“Still can't talk about it?”
Hermione nodded, it could still be dangerous for him to hear this and thanks to him she was already feeling much better, even without speaking.
Zev thought for a second.

“How about I tell you everything I know and then go from there?”
“Alright,” Hermione agreed readily and had to blush again at how bad her voice sounded after all that crying. Thankfully, Zev wasn't the type to comment on something like that.
Zevi looked aside for a moment before starting, like he had to fight his own demons too.
“I know that Tom planned a horcrux for Harry almost from the start and that a little before the final battle he convinced him into making one. Our friend floundered horribly after that, yet, in some way, he managed to pull himself together after we returned here, but somehow it's not the case anymore. Sounds right?”
“Yes, Tom talked to you too?” she asked relieved.
Zevi looked uncomfortable.
“Not with so many details. He has been asking me to work on various restorative potions and ordered me to read everything available on the Philosopher's Stone.”
Instead of cheering Hermione up, that information depressed her. She slumped in her chair.
“I'm a horrible friend, I'm supposed to be so observant and yet I missed all the signs of my best friend's suffering.”
Zevi lightly wrapped a comforting arm around her.

“Don't be too hard on yourself, Harry is an amazing actor and I figured more than half by watching Tom rather than Harry.”
Hermione wasn't very convinced.

“But you did, never mind that Tom was prepared almost before the crisis started.”
“I study people, it's not the same as studying books,” he reprimanded her gently, “and if Harry had cricked his neck during sleep Tom would have known it.” Zevi said the last part looking deeply uncomfortable.
Hermione sighed.

“I suppose being obsessively in love with someone will do something like that to you.”
Zevi's jaw dropped open.

“You knew?” he sounded weirdly delighted.
Hermione looked at Zev oddly; she couldn't make out his reaction.
“I was certain in my time but, after we came here and they grew a bit apart, I let him convince me that he was interested. I wised up just before making the worst mistake of my life, not that he took it easy.” she hit a couple times the back of her head at the chair.

“Merlin, I was such an idiot!”
Zevi smiled kindly.
“You judge yourself too harshly for a second time. If Tom ever wanted to charm or seduce someone it happened. He is that good. Only Harry didn't follow the same pattern, but things are so tangled between them that it doesn't apply.”
Hermione's mouth ran completely dry.
“You?” somehow the idea of Zev wanting Tom was far, far more disturbing and on many different levels than the thought of Tom with Harry.
Zevi blinked.
“No, no! Nothing like that, Tom was more into searching for connections and talent to do his bidding. The only type of that sport he followed before Harry was to see how many girls were making a fool of themselves by chasing him.”
“Like me.” Hermione couldn't contain her bitterness.
Zevi's face took on a mischievous light.
“That's the interesting part. You, he chased, intensely so, and with Harry's full blessings on top of that. That's why I didn't dare to warn you at all,” he confessed the last part softly.

“Tom seemed genuinely interested, you seemed happy and Harry didn't look concerned for you, or your safety, and appeared generally alright with the whole affair. What right did I have to interfere?”
Hermione was again touched at the thought he wanted to warn her. That, and the fact that she was exceptionally relieved that Zev held no interest on Tom, or on any other guy, was something she decided to think upon when the whole specific mess was cleared. One trouble at a time!
“Until it exploded in our faces,” she complained, frustrated.

“Why couldn't they be honest with one another? I'd bet that if it was the case we wouldn't have even half the problems.”
Zevi examined her seriously and seemed to be thinking carefully about his answer.
“There are seasons for everything, like in the poem. If Tom and Harry was an average couple they would have a normal school romance and later, out in real life, their chances to make it work. But they are not, things are cutting so deeply between them, that they have to walk extremely carefully to make things work. Like the rarest of potions, the most volatile, dangerous and supposedly dissimilar materials combined are able to create matter beyond dreams.”
His voice had gained a dreamy quality and that, more than their similar appearance, reminded Hermione of Snape. She could see where Zev was coming from, she really did, but she still believed that if Tom was less of a bastard things would have been easier.
“I hope, for Harry's sake, that you're right.”
“You don't really believe it do you?”
Hermione bit her lip.
“I don't doubt that Tom loves Harry, but he also hasn't exactly protected him from emotional harm. I don't know how this extension on things is going to work.”
“I believe you were together with your Weasley before we returned, no?” Zevi changed the topic.
“Yes,” she said a tad defensively, “But I hardly think that they are comparable.”
Zevi didn't back down, continuing to study her calmly.

“Are you sure? Didn't Ron ever hurt you in any way before you got together?”
Hermione's mind flashed to the Yule ball in fourth year and many, many, other events. She didn't believe Ron came even close to the kind of git that Tom was, but there had been times that, for all her love, she would have happily throttled him.
Her face was enough for Zev.
“You were managing him, like Harry manages Tom and vice-versa. Someday, and you will remember me on this, when the time is right and they are finally mature enough to be together, their eyes will meet and nothing will stand in their way. No previous bonds, ambitions, duty, or friendships. Nothing! You were lucky you got out of this when you did.”
Hermione was ready to tease him for how romantic he was sounding, when something of the pretty picture he was painting with his words flashed to her mind. Her face drained of colour.
“What if that moment came too soon?”
Zevi didn't miss a beat.

“Then we'll need to pray that we'll survive the deluge to come. What happened?”
Somehow Zev's description made her smile.
“After I figured things out, I sort of goaded Tom into admitting his feelings about Harry, the next day the Walburga incident happened and I believe it occurred exactly as you described it.”
Zevi whistled softly.

“No wonder the last month has been hell. Tom must have been beyond bastard to you.”
Hermione gulped as that strange tenderness was back to his voice.

“Leave me out for now; what matters is for us to find a way to help Harry.”
Zevi shook his head, but it didn't look condescending.
“We are doing everything we can with our research, the rest we leave with Tom. He usually finds a way to fix things between them. . .”
Hermione pressed her lips together in an effort not to answer, the last thing she needed was to open that topic again.
“. . .What I want to know now,” he continued, “is what made you cry so hard?” he raised his hand to stop her from speaking.

“I love Harry dearly too, but it wasn't the only reason that had you so broken, nor Tom's atrocious behaviour. You are stronger than that.”
Hermione wavered over whether or not she should open up about something so personal, but in the end she decided she should. Zev was genuine and she couldn't speak to Harry about any of this, at least not yet.
“I acted worse than a gold digging easy woman,” she bit out.
For once, Zev was unrelenting.

“We already covered that.” and for him that was about it.
“You don't understand,” Hermione all but shouted, “today Minerva all but called me a whore to my face.”
Zevi's face lost a great deal of colour, his eyes flashed angrily and Hermione was forced to remember that this kind and mild mannered man was a dark wizard.
“She had no right; I'm going to make her regret it.”
It was Hermione's time to raise a placating hand.
“Calm down, I set her right, the problem is not Minerva, but how many others believe it. I'm not sure that I can blame them.” the last part was a mere whisper.
“Like whom?” his tone was sharp. “You did nothing wrong.”
“Like people who I have come to consider as friends, Alphard and even that vain git Brax.”
Zevi relaxed visibly.
“That was your concern? It's good then that I have an intimate knowledge of said opinions and I can share. Abraxas considers you a magnificent player and Alphard has sex on brains and so believes that sooner or later you will end in a ménage-a-trois with the guys.”
Brax's estimation pleased and disturbed Hermione in equal parts. Pleased her, because for him it was the highest of praises, and bothered her, because it highlighted exactly what she feared. Alphard's idea on the other hand threw her out the loop.
It was so foreign that her innate curiosity made her stop to consider the possibility. She had never thought of Harry in that light, except as a small first year, when she got a crush on him after he saved her, with Ron, from the troll.
But his sheer friendliness, goofiness and the obviousness that he didn't see girls, or anyone, in that light at all had drove her to the earthiest of their trio. But truthfully, if she ever sat to think of the men in her life, with trust as the variable, Harry won over anyone, all hands down.
But how could it be with both the guys? Hermione, liking it or not, was still attracted to Tom on some level (not that said attraction would stop her from doing the right thing) and she closed her eyes for a second and imagined. . .
And she had to open them back at the same moment. Even Harry, with the kindest of hearts, was so totally keyed on Tom that everyone else paled in comparison. Even if they were that much into denial and brought a girl between them to keep up the illusion she wouldn't mean much more than a rag between two dogs. Hermione shuddered.
“Where on earth does Alphard gets such ideas?” she grumbled, red as a tomato.
Zevi flashed a teasing smile at her, openly enjoying her discomfort.

“You were always a part of a trio as a kid, why not continuing the pattern as an adult?”
Hermione blushed even worse.

“I'm going to kill him!” she swore. “What if he has started giving Tom such ideas?” the mere thought was so chilling that she was thankful that she sat for fear of a blackout.
“Don't worry, he's never going to mention something like that to Tom, he knows better.” There was such a dark promise in the Prince's heir voice that Hermione relaxed, feeling much reassured.
Zevi shot her a look and continued teasing.

“At least Abraxas' reaction was to your satisfaction.”
Hermione respected Zev too much to not answer honestly.
“I'm not that sure that I'm flattered. It bothers me that people may think that I could use my friends or even have an arranged marriage to gain status.”
For the first time ever Zevi looked hurt.
“Hermione, I have a vast amount of respect for you, would it be too much for you to respect my culture as well?”
She really hated that she had offended him so.

“I-I don't understand.”
“Arranged marriages are an innate part of pureblood culture. My parents were married in that way.”
She didn't expect that.

“But your parents obviously care deeply for each other?”
For a second, Zevi looked sheepish.

“They grew close over time. Can we please leave my family aside?”
“I'm sorry; do you have a betrothal waiting down the line?” Hermione couldn't for the life of her figure out why she'd asked.
Zevi smiled.

“Not really, my parents considered a girl, but nothing is closed, yet.”
Hermione bit her lips, hard.

“Oh,”
“But we left the matter at hand.” Zevi's tone was very matter of fact. “Arranged marriages are much more than the meeting of two bloodlines to produce an heir. You gain an ally, a friend. If the two persons are close they can cover each other for many kinds of harm.”
Hermione's mind was almost convinced. She had never thought about it in that perspective before. She'd always had written it off as a monolithic mentality, but maybe it wasn't.
“What kind of protection?”
Zev's expression was both serious and sly.
“The protection of a girl from her family, usually a marriage is the only way for a woman to gain her freedom. Also, our society is unforgiving of homosexuality, except in the school years. Tom and Harry may very well be required into such unions, especially if they are still planning to change the wizarding world from inside the ministry.”
Hermione had to concede at that. At this age, at least, arranged marriages were truly useful even if she preferred her own age with fervour. Still. . .
“Harry will never go for something like that; if Tom truly wants him he will probably have to fight against the stream to get the position he wants.”
Zevi's eyes glittered.

“Are you sure about that? Harry is rather Slytherin, in whatever way you look it.”
Hermione started to enjoy herself.

“I could bet on that.”
“Really, how much? It wouldn't be gentlemanly to ask for money, so what if you helped me with the trickiest potions? A skilled second pair of hands would be most welcome.”
Hermione's whole face lighted with pleasure, but then she looked down.
“Are you sure you won't prefer money? It will be years before we find out one way or another.”
Zevi looked playfully sceptical.
“Here's what we'll do. You will start helping me when you have the time and if after seven years they are still unmarried I will pay you handsomely for those hours. What do you think?”
Hermione was so happy she wanted to dance; still, she held her serious expression, as such a serious matter demanded it. Only her eyes were probably showing her excitement. She offered her hand.
“Deal.”
“It's a deal then.” Zevi shook her hand firmly and then brought it to his lips.

Harry's pov

Saturday wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend, but as the last one before Christmas holidays most of seventh years were going for last minute shopping. Harry barely managed to cajole a very peevish Tom into accompanying him with their friends to the village. . . well, more like threatening and pleading in equal measure, but who counted.
Tom had agreed at least, but it wasn't graceful. He was agitated from something but damn him if he did them the favour of speaking of it. Harry wasn't making the mistake of believing that it had something to do with the possible battle, for all his confession few days ago. Harry wasn't arrogant, but he rather doubted that anything less than Grindelwald himself was going to be a terrible problem.
He also wondered if his friend's nerves had anything to do with Hermione and Zev but he also crossed it out. While there was a hint of increasing warmth between the two, as they quietly discussed the merits of that potion or other, it looked more like the start of comradeship rather than something intimate. After all, neither was the type for infidelity, and if Tom had speculated that there was something between them he would have been much more vicious to Zev, not to all of them in equal measure.
Tom's awful mood hadn't lifted, at all, up until Minerva found them on the way to Hogsmeade and had been very gracefully welcomed in their company before Harry had even completed his greeting to her. She had agreed instantly, without even a hint of uneasiness, and ended chatting with Mione like they had become the best of friends.
Harry was naturally suspicious. Tom's welcoming wasn't completely faked, so what the hell had they talked about during the Quidditch game?
“Calm down, hero, your Lioness is completely safe with us.” Tom voice ghosted to his ear.
“Oh really? Why am I not reassured?” Harry glared balefully, fighting the faint colour that had risen to his cheeks.
“You should be.” Tom accompanied his words with a faint nod. He was serious.

“Cat-girl is totally devoted to you, if you must know, I checked.”
Harry's eyes narrowed. It wasn't in Tom's nature to volunteer information. Something way more was up.

“It must have been a very thorough check, you were chatting almost the whole match.”
Tom flashed him an unrepentant smile.

“Of course not, golden boy, there were many more topics, but I'm not ready to share those yet.”
Harry shrugged, pretending indifference.

“Alright, I'll ask Minnie if you prefer.”
Tom's smirk only grew.

“Oh, I don't know, she's oath bound.”
Harry's blood started to burn in anger.

“You had no right.”
Tom's expression turned deadly serious.

“Don't I? When you have worked your way in equal footing to me with my own people, a bit unfair aren't you?”
Harry was stricken. He hated to admit it but Tom had a great deal of right, yet. . .

“Then you will tell me.”
The smile turned indulgent.

“Of course I will. . .when I'm good and ready.”
Harry almost growled. But then he calmed, there was a third party. Even if Mione was oath bound she could never manage to be as unreadable as Tom.
“As you wish.”
It was Tom's turn to look at him, narrow-eyed.

“Do you expect me to buy that? You don't have to worry you will find out soon enough.”
Harry shrugged again but as a new thought crossed his mind a mischievous smile broke out across his lips.
“It must be pretty damning for you to be so closed up. What could it be? You decided to leave Mione for Minerva? After all, it was Batman that dated Cat-woman not Robin,” he mocked gently.
Tom gawked at him in abject horror.

“Don't you even dare think something like that again, never mind speaking of it. . .ever. . .”
Harry couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

“Oh, I don't know, you two looked quite intimate nestled together in the Quidditch stands.”
Unfortunately Tom never stayed down. His smile epitomised that of a shark's.
“Ah, as intimate as you normally are with dearest Minerva; judging from your antics in the game, don't you have some things to say as well?”
Harry gulped. He wanted to talk about that specific matter least of all. He had been doing his damnest to not think about it as well. Still, he stood his place. . .
“I will happily do so if you tell me what you and Mione talked about with Minerva.”
Tom inclined his head in understanding and a modicum of respect.
“As you wish, I will open that topic, again, then.”

With a couple of swift strides he was near the girls, attention, at least visibly, directed at them.
Harry felt like fainting, but it wasn't relief. He hadn't won over Tom. At the very best it was a tie and that worried him even more as it proved that whatever Tom was hiding, it was well beyond anything he wished him to know.
Also, the fact that Tom had opened the discussion even if, for once, he'd shown some consideration was making it adamantly clear that he had to deal with it. His friend wasn't going to show such restraint for a second time.
So, as Tom and Hermione left them for the bookstore that, unless something urgent happened, were going to be in for hours and Alphard dragged a seemingly reluctant Minerva to Zonko's, Harry left Zev and Brax to their own devises and started wandering almost aimlessly around the village, trying to come in terms with himself before he was forced to.
Ever since he had met Tom friends, and random people even, had been accusing him of fancying him, of being gay. Harry had always refused it for all their closeness. He had no sexual feelings for his friend or was affected in any way by his looks. (Disregarding relief that he didn't look like Voldemort - Snake-face was pretty gross!) Moreover, he had that kind of feelings for girls, even if they weren't that strong, what did he know, maybe he wasn't a very sexual kind of guy. . .
Even when, much to his surprise, he discovered that at the end he was pretty much gone for Tom (a discovery that hit him first like a whisper and then like a punch to the stomach,) he wasn't that alarmed, a bit resigned maybe, but he was so invested already that it hardly made a difference. So nothing changed once again.
This time it had.
Harry had to be honest, he had more than noticed Sam; he had gotten such a thrill from the other's admiration and their competition that his reaction, while almost nothing compared to what was binding him to Tom, was far stronger than his lukewarm response to Cho's dark beauty, or to any other girl. So, unless he had a thing for been challenged, which also seemed more than probable, he really was gay.
Harry wanted to hit his head against the nearest wall. He would have done much better without ever considering this possibility. If he couldn't (and shouldn't) have Tom in the way he had dreamt it, he was still counting in a family somewhere in the future. That was out of the question now; he wasn't a big bastard to do something like that to a woman.
Tom was going to have kittens. Normally, Harry could ignore his friend just fine, but he was fully aware of how damaging such a revelation could be to their campaign. He wasn't 'The Boy Who Lived' now, but even Harrison Evans wasn't a complete nobody and the times were much harsher than his own. He couldn't do that to his friend.
Yet, the last thing he wanted was to spend his life holding a candle to his best friend. He deserved something of his own. But even if he wanted to keep this quiet until he was ready to handle it, Tom had seen and understood enough to ask about it. The confrontation was coming. Harry was aware enough to know that only his oath was keeping Tom from feeding Sam to the basilisk.
Salazar! This was such a mess and those Grindelwaldian bastards didn't even have the courtesy of attacking and sparing him of these thoughts.
~*~
These bastards were far from courteous. His every instinct was insistent that there was going to be a battle, yet the hours passed with no sign of attack. Harry was puzzled but far from relaxed and when he found Tom again the frown on the other's face told him his worries were shared, without them having to exchange a word. Whatever was going to happen was going to be huge.
Even when they finally gathered for a latish lunch at the three broomsticks there was still no disturbance.
Leonard Potter was sitting alone with an elegant Lady, her appearance enough like Alphard's and a bit like the young man sitting besides her that he had no doubt for her identify, Dorea Potter nee Black, his great grandmother. Mother and son were talking intensely but as soon as they noticed his attention they transported that intensity into looking covertly at him. Harry immediately looked away.
He hadn't regretted saving Leonard's life and was going to do his damn hardest to make sure that every single member of that family got away from the war and the probable conflict with Dumbledore in the future unscratched, but he wasn't sure he could afford to even try to become friends with his grandfather. Harry was a good liar, but not to the point of not creating ill afforded questions in contact with this family. Even if by some twist of fate his true identify became known to them, they could never become his family, too much water over that bridge.
Imogen and Roger were also there with Sam, Apollonius and Amelia. They waved at him cheerily and beckoned; Sam a bit enthusiastic for a simple acquaintance, still, Harry chose to ignore it, waved back and was ready to accept the invitation for the group when, from the corner of his eyes, he caught Tom's expression. He was smiling charmingly and nodded in agreement, but there was enough poison in his eyes to be terrifying. Oath or not, he wasn't ready to trust him to sit at the same table with the Hufflepuff without causing him grievous harm, if not outright killing him.
They sat at a safe distance and Madame Helen had barely brought their orders when multiple cracks of apparition began sounding outside. Harry's eyes met Tom's with the same anticipation. The party was starting.
~*~
Harry ducked again, covering Tom's attack and a second later releasing his own against the purple dressed wizards to his right. Most fell down, taken care of, but some managed to dodge and he used even stronger curses to take them out of commission. He and Tom were moving constantly and spreading destruction on their way, staying almost untouched by the various dark curses, but their friends and co-students weren't that lucky. The sheer number of their opponents was almost overwhelming and they had sustained various injuries, but as they had each other's backs there weren't fatalities on their side.
Tom's last dregs of nasty mood had been utterly lifted with the melee. A savage smile was gracing his lips and he seemed to enjoy himself immensely. His magical energy crackled around him and he had wholly given himself to his task. Harry was again engrossed in his friend, their moves synchronised to something that went beyond instinct. But, instead of distracting him and opening him to an attack, their bond was keeping him even sharper and merely urging him to keep up with Tom and compete in their game of which one of them could manage the more enemies.
Nonetheless, Harry couldn't completely give himself to their competition, pleasurable though it was. While their friends were more than capable of holding their own, especially compared to what they were against, and slowly but surely were gaining the upper hand to the battle, the least experienced of their year mates had started having serious problems and the enemies were too many to give them room to leave. Instead he, Tom and the team were merely able to keep on constant alert for the worst opponents.
Still, that wasn't enough to save Sam from a nasty broken hand, thankfully not the wand one, or Roger from some mean cuts but what really got Harry's heart in his mouth was when he wasn't fast enough and Lady Potter had taken a very severe wound to the ribs for Leonard and the idiot let himself be completely uncovered as he was trying to find her shelter. Harry barely managed to distract a sumo wrestler lookalike wizard before blasting both of them.
That was about it. No more holding back. Harry had never been more thankful for the harder training in the chamber. His curses, if they were reported, were probably enough to sent them in Azkaban together with Grindelwald's followers, but he refused to allow for a single one of his friends or acquaintances to end up dead.
“It was time,” Tom hissed to his ear and Harry growled. The bastard had let the decision at how illegally to go on him but it wasn't a game damnit. . .
Relatively soon with the vastly darker curses, the battle was pretty much over, but as the last enemy fell down Harry became aware of the oppressive atmosphere. There was a man leaning against one of the walls who had just now lifted his disillusionment. Grindelwald, the bastard, had watched them slaughter his men and hadn't lifted a finger to help them.

Tom's pov

Grindelwald clapped mockingly and approached out of the shadows.
“Mein Gott! That was engaging, boys.”
Tom examined the Dark Lord in a flash.
So this was Gellert Grindelwald, at least this time he wasn't disappointed. The wizard had presence alright; his pictures in the prophet didn't do him much justice, accentuating his stern handsome face and powerful build, but not even hinting at his imposing dark aura. Then again, nothing could do that. Tom barely suppressed a smirk. This was indeed going to be a challenge.
Moreover, the man didn't look a day older than forty - Harry's time forty, not now when even some wizards looked like old men. Tom idly wondered what he used to keep his youth and how long term it could be, but in the end it didn't matter. Grindelwald was going to die and sooner or later he was going to get his hands on his studies.
Tom couldn't care less how the German regarded his men, but Harry's eyes had flashed brilliantly, his hands clenched momentarily, well beyond anger. Assuming his friend didn't get dangerously worked up; things were going to get vastly entertaining.
He wasn't disappointed.
“That was hardly intelligent.” Harry's tone was just the right blend between disdain and boredom with his anger remaining veiled and not giving anything away.
It was the perfect opening to drive a Dark Lord utter mad by challenging his position in such a blatant way, unfortunately, the German had better control than Voldemort and he merely laughed.
“You are too young to know of such things, merely a child.” Grindelwald's tone was both patronizing and condescending, but he didn't sound bothered in the least. He gave Harry a blatant once over making apparent the things he supposed he knew.
Harry didn't flinch or react in any way.
Tom's eyes flashed, almost red, and he swore, inside, that he was going to gouge the wizard's eyes out by using his own, precious wand, among other tortures. Other than that he didn't react either. But it was time to up the game; Grindelwald wanted a chat after all.
“It was certainly wasteful, especially for someone in your position, sir.”
The jab was all the more taunting by using the false honorific and Tom had the deep satisfaction of seeing a muscle jumping in Grindelwald's jaw. Still, that was the extent of his reaction and he smiled wolfishly in response.
“Ah, the young academic, Tom Marvolo Riddle, not even passed your NEWTs yet and you are already in the records as the best student ever passing Hogwarts, with a Defence thesis already under your belt. . .very intriguing by the way, I wonder how you would have done in Durmstrang?”
The man flattered emptily without overtly paying any actual attention to Tom's words.
“I have considered meeting you for some time and if you weren't a halfblood I would have already arranged a brilliant future for you at my side.”
He gave Tom a very appraising once over as well.
Tom felt like he was covered in slime and if he wasn't so disciplined, he may have reacted violently. It had been many years since he'd been under such a stare; he was more than used to be looked at with desire, but people knew much better than to look at him like a piece of meat. It was beyond sickening and the supposed Dark Lord was going to pay many, many, times before Tom allowed him to die.
Someone else would have been either elated from the Dark Lord's attention or terrified beyond their wits. Tom was merely bored. This talk had proved nothing to him except the German's decline of power. The information was outdated and could have been found in a good deal of public forums.
Not to mention that he could hardly gain their favour by disregarding them like that, he was losing in both counts. But the most blatant sign was his pegging Harry in the 'pet' slot. Couldn't he sense that their power was in equal footing? Grindelwald was so power drunk that his arrogance exceeded his intelligence; if they kept their cool this was going to be a piece of cake.
“You are playing a good game but you have already lost, maybe if you bothered with strategy - outside of your hormones - then things would have gone better.” Harry's tone was neutral but with a strong underline of menace.
Tom swore inside: he had spoken too soon. Harry was too Gryffindor sometimes! The magical flare and anger were immensely stronger than when Grindelwald had hit on him, he had also shifted a bit to get between them. They hardly needed to do the German the favour of letting him get under their skins. Yet, much to his surprise, Tom was more touched than irritated from the display. This was the first time in his life that someone bothered protecting his honour like that.
For now though they were the ones getting under the wizard's skin. Grindelwald had laughed mockingly but it was merely a masked choking. Tom smiled grimly; time to up the game once more.
“Harry is right, you have lost. The European countries under your regime have regained their freedom, how long do you think it will be before you end up a prisoner or even dead?” he asked softly.
Grindelwald smiled arrogantly.

“They are muggles, hardly worth my time, I have lost nothing.”
Harry let out a much undignified snort.
“Keep telling yourself that. It's hardly half a year since Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Nuclear bombs can destroy wizards and magical places as easily and utterly as muggles. You probably condemned our future with the wars you started.”
Grindelwald appeared to be regarding Harry with much more respect than before.

“Not if I destroy them first. Work with me and it will happen.”

He addressed Tom.

“Your pet is also intelligent not merely spirited and beautiful, you could be very lucky, except it won’t last. It never does.”
Tom was more amused this time than angry. If he judged, from the German's tastes and behaviour this was hardly surprising, but he was hardly going to say so. No matter what Grindelwald may think, it was way beneath a Lord to be so crass, also it was rather revealing.
Grindelwald didn't seem to be bothered by their lack of reaction; he was examining both of them, stroking his beard.
“Or maybe he is not the pet anymore? Maybe Tom Riddle is no longer the boss but Harrison Evans.” he smiled sardonically at Tom.

“Were you so weak and emotional that you've given him your place without even understanding it?”
Tom almost laughed out loud. This was Grindelwald's game? He had started being deeply doubtful of his intelligence, but this was consolation enough for his lost time. A couple of years back it could have stung, deeply, now it hardly touched him. It seemed that Grindelwald was worth his salt as Dark Lord after all. . .
A faint feeling of concern touched his consciousness. Harry was a bit more affected and worried for his reaction. Oh for crying out loud. Tom relaxed his mental shields and projected the equivalent of rolling eyes. Harry relaxed.
Time to finish this.
“Or maybe you have no idea of what we have and hit blindly out of spite. Fight us or leave, but stop wasting our time.”
Grindelwald's eyes bulged with the first dismissal, but then Harry added insult to injury.
“You are a Dark Lord for Salazar's sake couldn't you do something grander than hitting on two teenagers that could be your grandsons? Blond curls are so outdated.”
Grindelwald snarled like a wounded animal. The illusion of his flawless face shattering; it was merely a strong glamour. What a pity!
The strength of his curse was enough to knock them back a few metres; thankfully they had built shields during the course of their tedious talk. After that Tom didn't have time for conscious thoughts. He was too busy trying to stay alive.
They moved all the time to give less of a target but the man was blindingly fast. Tom could admit without shame that Grindelwald was the strongest opponent he had ever faced - it was all due to his wand of course, and if he was without it Tom estimated him not much better than him or Harry, just more knowledgeable.
That wand was the something else. Dumbledore had never used it to its full potential or even used it the way it was being used now, that much he could tell. It was only due to the fact that there were two of them that allowed them to get away with their lives on numerous occasions. They shielded each other as they were casting, but they were already hurt in many ways, but to his deep satisfaction so was Grindelwald.
This continued for some time, with Tom and Harry using almost everything in their arsenal, which was doing some considerable damage but not enough to destroy the Dark Lord. Grindelwald did the same and it was obvious that he was growing frustrated when he didn't manage victory either. It was a race now to see who would fall first due to blood loss, among other things.
Growing tired of it, Tom started firing killing curses to force the other to back off a bit and give them some breathing space. Grindelwald dodged and retaliated with something incredibly fast that sounded like “Verebben.” He would have dodged it but he tripped on a body, and then Harry shoved him away, but put himself on target. Tom barely managed to pull him on him and out of the way before the next curse hit the both of them.
A short but very intense earthquake followed. Harry had used his own elder wand to shield the last curse. Tom swore under his breath; they were alive but it could have easily ended like Hiroshima.
They were on their feet in a second.
Grindelwald had been hit the most by the backslash of both wands and was on his knees, trembling. Tom and Harry raised their wands to finish him off.
But then Dumbledore apparated.

Harry's pov

Harry watched in mute disbelief as Dumbledore, instead of attacking, after apparating - conveniently right in front of them, cutting the direct target-line - started exchanging pleasantries.
“Gellert, long time no see.”
The German, making what looked like a superhuman effort, stood on his trembling feet.

“Albus, it has been too long, how are you?”
“I have been doing good, teaching like I dreamt to.”
“I'm glad for you; I have been doing as I wished too, well except for today.”
The surrealistic feeling wasn't abating, Harry wondered if he was going crazy, because it sounded to him like the blond Dark Lord was pouting. And Dumbledore, had he lost it? The same man that had targeted Tom, on principle alone, this time, and had come to the point of murder on his own, was now almost flirting like he had met his old friend on a stroll in Diagon alley.
“Those were Misters Riddle and Evans, together with Miss Hermione Granger, Hogwarts' best students.”
Harry's temper snapped; Dumbledore wasn't just flirting he had cold out given Hermione's name to the old lecher. He was going to kill him, again, and not regret it in the slightest this time!
A sharp, almost excruciating, pain brought him to the now. Tom had broken his wrist. A look to his grim face was all it took to remember their predicament. They were the only ones close enough to hear the discussion, if they dared to attack now they were only going to dig their own grave. Hermione's name dropping was merely the blackmail to keep them silent.
Grindelwald confirmed that.

“I never had the pleasure of meeting Miss Granger, perhaps another time?”
“Gellert surrender, you know that you can't win.” Dumbledore sounded almost like he was pleading.
“Not this time, old friend.” Grindelwald said, equally regretful then disapparated.
Harry was a step before laughing hysterically. Typical! He wasn't even the slightest bit surprised that Grindelwald was only biding his time until he was strong enough to disapparate. . . and why in Merlin's name wasn't there a single Auror in sight?
Still, he wasn't afraid that Dumbledore would try anything on them, at least not now, for the same single reason that that they couldn't attack him - too many witnesses. Later, when they would be alone and vulnerable, it was a completely different matter and one that was more to the headmaster/transfiguration professor's style, but for now they were completely safe.
Harry turned his head and smiled at Tom. Safe! They were safe! They survived another obstacle and they were together, alive and well. Tom's lips twitched and then he smiled too, honestly happy and a little bit drunk at being alive and victorious. Regardless of Dumbledore's interference they were victorious. At that moment in time they were happy and highly content.
Suddenly the adrenalin left his body and everything started spinning like crazy as he became aware that he hurt, everywhere, in various degrees. The only thing holding him steady was Tom, who looked just as bad and was likewise steadying himself on Harry.
Just as he was sure that was going to fall anyway their friends were around them and they were lowered in soft floating stretchers. Feeling a hundred times better merely by being reclined he sent a soft, dopey smile at Tom.
“We did it; we survived Grindelwald, next time we are going to take him down for good!”
But Tom didn't look content any more. He was scowling darkly; the bruises and scratches on his face making his glare look even more intimidating.
“Indeed we did, but next time don't you even think about getting in front of me because some old coot needs blinding, or decide to take a curse for me, or even worse, play with time and space.” he hissed the last part.
“Hey, it saved our lives,” Harry returned, defensively.
“Yes,” Tom answered, looking truly angry now. “But if there is a next time I would prefer to study if a magical time bomb is equal to or surpassing a nuclear bomb in a safe environment, not on a battlefield.”
“There will be no such experiment,” Harry snapped. The last thing he needed was Tom getting such ideas.
“Relax hero.” Tom sounded almost half asleep now, and Harry indeed relaxed. He could feel his friend's emotions and he was just as scared if not more so from what could happen. There weren't going to be any experiments.
But then he remembered Tom's other complaints and groaned. He was going to the white prison with Tom for Salazar's knew how many days. . .there was no way to get away from Tom's bitching. Even if he kept his occlumency barriers as high as it got there was nothing that could stop him from using parseltongue, too low to register even in a silent room, except if there was a snake present to draw attention. He groaned a second time. Crap, crap, crap. . .
A low laugh was heard above him.
Abraxas' looked a right mess, like the rest of them, but at least he could walk.
“What?” he growled, the sound of his own voice making his headache that much worse.
“I'm just amazed that you two manage to bicker even like this.”
“You need a life,” Harry mumbled, finally close to sleep.
“Hey, don't sleep now, you may have a concussion.” Brax was almost panicked.
Harry opened one bleary eye.

“No concussion, check Tom.”
But Abraxas was persistent.

“Harry, what do you have against blonds?”
Harry wanted to curse him, but he didn't have the energy.

“Nothing, just messing with old blond.” he told the truth to end things.
“Ahhh.”
There was such relief to his vain friend that Harry found it crazily funny.
“Don't worry,” he told Brax with the last of his energy, “You're not blond but platinum, you will never get outdated - just wait a few years for Marilyn.”
“Marilyn, who's Marilyn?” Abraxas asked, but Harry never answered, his eyelids were weighing a ton. He fell asleep.
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The Fate Changed Now What?