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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
- 3
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Harry's pov (continuation)

Harry had woken a few times, but every time Madame Wilson had made him drink a calming drawn and he'd fallen back asleep. Finally, he awoke completely to the heavy taste of cotton wool and half raised a warming hand to avoid another dose.

Madame Wilson chuckled softly.

“Don't worry young man, I don't plan to force you sleep again.”

Harry let out a relieved sigh.

“Tom?” he asked. He could barely feel their link and that worried him deeply.

Madame Wilson's face softened even more, taking a mothering expression. Immediately, she opened the curtains of the next bed. Tom was sleeping soundly, looking exhausted and really worse the wear. Harry's heart stuttered.

“Why does he still look that bad? How long have we been here?”

Madame Wilson expression turned calculating.

“You have been here for about a little more than twelve hours and your friend wouldn't be in such a state if he hadn't fought against going to St Mungo's, or even Poppy's attempts to make him sleep, which would have helped cure him as he wanted to be sure you would make it. It was touch and go for a few hours; I wonder where he found the flare of strength. From what I heard it was one battle after another for most of yesterday. . .”

But Harry had stopped hearing her. . . Tom had jeopardized his own health for no apparent gain than simply the knowledge that he had made it. . .he wasn't sure if he believed it even if he had something of a proof. . . or even what he felt about it, only that he could hardly breathe.
“Tom waited for me..?” he asked, knowing he sounded like a lost boy.

Madame Wilson's eyes widened.

“Have you lost it boy? I just told you that you almost died yesterday and you only care about Riddle?”

“I almost died?”

Harry was confused; maybe he was too used to risking his life, but he didn't see how yesterday was any different to another day. Tom had been in danger too, why wasn't she fussing over him? They had more or less the same wounds.

“You haven't heard a thing? This was nothing like the usual stunts you and Riddle normally pull. . . with your crazy luck you got hit right on your appendicitis. In the time it took to bring you here it had inflamed to fully fledged peritonitis. . .five minutes later it would have been too late. . . as it was, I spend half the night flushing toxins out of your system. . . and that was only the tip of the iceberg of your injuries. . .”

“Oh,” was the only thing that Harry could say faced with the healer's wrath.

“What else Madame?” he asked, both wanting to know and to placate her.

“You had a bruised kidney, broken shoulder blade, seven shattered ribs, and an almost shredded tendon on your left shoulder, numerous fractures which would take an hour to recite if I were to name them all, extended bruising on your upper body and numerous lesions of course. Ah, and a broken wrist, that was the largest bone that you had broken.”

Harry almost whistled, it certainly sounded nasty.

“And Tom?” he questioned.

“Your friend had a hairline fracture but thankfully no concussion, five broken ribs, a lightly punctured lung, broken collarbone, ruptured spleen, a fractured disk to the middle of his back, lesions to his whole body and a gush to his stomach.”

Harry was certain that his hair would have been standing up with horror, if it wasn't already naturally inclined that way. Too close, too damn close. . . Shiiit!!!

Still the last bit of information made him explode.

“Such a gush to his stomach could have been just as deadly as my peritonitis.” he gritted out.

Madame Wilson glared imperiously.

“Why do you think that I wanted to send him at St Mungo's? Poppy has a full qualification, and in a couple of years she is going to take my place, but there was too much damage to take care of at once. I sent over everyone that didn't need immediate help.” she glared until he was looking at her with the same attentive respect like before.

“Now the whole school calls what you two did yesterday heroic and I don't doubt it, but for the last two years and a half I have treated you a thousand times. . . and Merlin knows how many times you didn't come here after a training session. You two are addicted to danger and if you don't control it somewhat you are going to end up dead. Heed my words, else the next time you end up here I'm going to recommend counselling at St Mungo's. . . .and yes, I mean you too Mr Riddle.”

Harry instantly forgot the healer's rant.

He took in his friend's face, examining every small contour. Yeah, he looked tired and was probably a mess but he was going to be alright. He smiled with all his heart, though his face hurt.

Tom examined him twice as intently and then smiled charmingly at the healer.

“We only did our duty Madame; surely it can't be that bad, yes? We'll try to stay out of trouble, I promise.”

Madame Wilson hmmped.

“Don't try to sweet talk me, child - I am old enough to be your grandmother. Now, try to relax a bit, I'm going to order a house elf to bring you beef broth. I did my best with your broken bones, but some were too damaged to last so Poppy is going to vanish them in an hour and provide skele-gro.”

Then she left them, just like that.
Tom returned his attention at Harry without saying a single word. Harry wanted to say many things, mostly to ask why he was so worried, as, in the very end, he had the Horcrux. Instead he asked the first thing which popped into his mind.

“Is Madame Wilson related to Zevi? I could swear that was a female Snape berating us!”

Tom didn't deign to show even the slightest pretence of curiosity.

“I couldn't care less, ask him.”

Harry's eyes narrowed; this was sounding more sharp than simply disinterested.

“Are you alright? Maybe you should have asked for a pain reliever.”

Tom sent him a scathing glare.

“I, unlike a specific golden boy, don't have a martyr complex - had I needed one I would have asked.”

Harry smirked.

“Wow, someone woke on the wrong side of the bed,” he teased, but then he remembered why and his smile slipped.

“Sorry.”

Tom's glare only increased.

“Cut it; and it better not even cross your mind to thank me.”

Harry's brow furrowed.

“Why? What you did. . .” his voice broke.

Tom looked like he was searching for patience.

“If you had had full use of your facilities you would already know. I suggest you find your bearings immediately.”

Harry grumbled - he was still a bit too disoriented for such deep thoughts, but it was better than contemplating the white prison and how long he was going to stay there.

Well, he had the Horcrux. But that could be used only to bring him back to life, if need be, not protect him from a deadly curse.

“Out loud.”

Harry merely raised an eyebrow at the parseltongue. Whatever else it may say, Tom must have been really spooked yesterday.

“You wanted to avoid using more power than necessary for cover up if things got hairy.”

Tom shook his head in mock regret.

“I should have let you rest more, you only got half.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“If you mean Dumbledore, I'm seriously tempted to hit you with my pillow.”

Tom yawned.

“Was that supposed to be a threat, sweetheart?”

“No,” Harry smirked. “But if you continue act so childishly I should react accordingly.”

“Childishly!” Tom's furious hiss raised the hairs at Harry's arms, it was that angry.

“Have you forgotten what happened the last time he found us vulnerable and alone in the hospital wing?”

Harry shivered with horror at the recollection.

{No, he hadn't forgotten and that memory was one of his returning nightmares. To wake up in the middle of the night to Dumbledore with the usual twinkle in his eyes, (all the more terrifying for it,) pointing his wand at a defenceless, sleeping, Tom, with the first word of the killing curse. . .

He was still incapable to recall with which curse he had defended his friend, maybe it wasn't a curse at all, but raw power. The only thing he knew for sure was that Dumbledore ended up dying at the feet of his bed and he had followed suit due to extreme magical exhaustion. Tom had barely managed to wake, in time, due to the clamour and sever their life-force connection to prevent his own death too.

To this day he was blaming Dumbledore, for the most part, for ending in the past. Tom never hid his intentions, yet Harry believed that even with Voldemort dead there was a fair chance that he could have convinced his friend to send a Doppelgänger to the past, like the others later confessed that they had wanted, but he was never given the chance. . .}

“No, I hadn't forgotten and never will,” Harry answered hoarsely even for Parseltongue, shocked by the vast hate to Dumbledore held in his soul, almost unnoticed.

“But I doubt he holds such hate for us, yet, to dare attack us with the healers present. He is the Lord of the Light after all; he needs his self-delusions.” he took a long calming breath and continued, far more composedly.

“I also doubt that the others would have left us defenceless: I'm pretty sure that at least some of them would have guarded the door and created commotion at the first sign of trouble.”

Tom merely raised an eyebrow at his fervour.

“I wouldn't be too sure after his performance yesterday. Maybe you are right, maybe not, but I prefer to hold our safety in my own hands. . .”

“Paranoid git!” was Harry's answer, but his voice was fond.

“Your argument wasn't completely illogical,” Tom conceded reluctantly the point.

“At least, compared to some of your actions yesterday. . .”

Harry was affronted.

“Hey, I don't recall doing anything unreasonable, yesterday!”

Tom ignored his reaction.

“I can name more than a few. That you had a single point, or even your reasons for some of those actions, doesn't mean I'm not still angry with you.”

Harry rolled his eyes again, it figured.

“I expected as much.” he shifted his pillow a bit and relaxed, preparing for a long lecture. . .

It wasn't to be. . . both of them heard muffed laughter and immediately started searching for their wands in precaution. Tom found his in a second, under his pillow, but Harry wasn't that lucky, which resulted in some very creative swear words and another of Tom's heated glares. He didn't care, if his wand wasn't around here he was very much in trouble and he wasn't even sure that he commanded his power enough to summon it.

Madame, or more precisely, Miss Pomfrey, entered the room levitating two trays.

This version, at twenty four, while still exceptionally skilled at her work, allowed, from time to time, her sense of humour, (that long years on the job and professionalism had muted on the older one,) to show up. Specifically when her mentor wasn't in the vicinity.

Most of the time Harry appreciated the difference, but not so much today as the healer approached, scarcely keeping her laughter at bay.

“My, my, can't you two stop arguing for a moment?” she questioned teasingly.

“It's all part of friendship, Miss.” Tom answered smoothly, as a part of his model student act.

Harry rather doubted that Pomfrey would have appreciated his friend's honest reaction, which was probably to tell her to mind her own business in the most final, withering way. Not that he himself appreciated her comments; it was different when it was coming from one of their close friends.

Still Pomfrey was always Pomfrey, no matter her age, and so she ignored Tom's innocent act and merely sent the trays to their besides tables. Unfortunately, that finished, she focused on him again.

“And you, Harry, what kind of language were that? I expected much better.”

She was only half joking, her mirthful eyes were testament to that, but it stung somehow and Harry found himself blushing, ashamed.

“I tell him that all the time,” Tom put in, supposedly helpfully. Harry shot him a dirty look. Seriously, could he not bear a moment not being centre of attention? Harry was going to make him pay for that someway, during their next training session the latest.

“I was looking for my wand,” he confessed sheepishly.

Pomfrey tapped her fingers on her lips.

“Oh, then it's my mistake. Minerva told me to keep it safe for you.”

She pulled it out from her sleeve and threw it deftly at him. Harry's honed seeker reflexes had him grabbing it in the air instead of simply letting it fell besides him, and Poppy's eyes lit up in admiration.

Sometimes it paid to have a young healer that loved Quidditch.

But then the healer part gained dominance and she started scolding.

“What do you think you were doing?! Your skin is barely healed, never mind how tender your organs still are - you could have done serious damage to yourself!”

Harry felt twice the idiot.

“It was instinctual, I wasn't thinking, sorry.”

Harry ignored Tom's mutterings of “What else is new?” instead staying completely still as Miss Pomfrey drew her own wand and examined him diligently.

Only after completing the examination did the healer allowed her face to relax.

“No further damage has been done; also you have my sincere apology. My action was careless and unprofessional.”

Harry, relaxed now that he knew that he wasn't going to be confined even more to the white hell due to his own foolishness, smiled.

“Nah, it was my stupidity. Thanks, by the way, had I known you had it I wouldn't have worried.”

Poppy smiled, showing two dimples. . .and who would have thought Madame Pomfrey had dimples.

“No harm done.”

“When are you going to do the treatment Madame?” Tom asked, supposedly in earnest innocence, but Harry could hear the inpatient order in his voice. Seriously, what was wrong with him? He should have asked for a painkiller.

Pomfrey became professional again.

“It wouldn't be advisable to do it if you are full, but it also wouldn't be healthy to leave you with an empty stomach for too many hours after your ordeal, so we'll have to wait an hour or so for you to digest.” after saying that her expression brightened again as she continued.

“Your friends are out, waiting for news, do you want to see them for a while as you are not in serious pain yet? Madame Wilson didn't agree but neither actively discouraged it. It's up to you boys.”

Harry's face broke in a delighted smile.

“Yes please,” he said enthusiastically, after a second thought expecting Tom to rain on his parade as he obviously didn't feel at his best. But he hadn't calculated his friend's determination when he had something to gain.

“That would be very appreciated Madame,” Tom said, pulling an almost sincere smile.

Poppy left to fetch the others and Harry glared daggers at the teen Dark Lord.

“You are so going to ask for a potion, what's wrong with you? You are never that rude to a possible ally, unless is already long hooked.”

Tom glared right back.

“I'm very disappointed in her bedside manner; she is a very long way from her expected level of competence.”

“Hey there's nothing wrong with her bedside manner,” Harry hotly defended the healer.

Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Then what will you call her schoolgirl giggling, the sheer stupidity of throwing your wand like that, or even her flirting, sweetheart?” he pointed insistently.

Harry was too horrified for words.

“Shut up, or switch, she's going to hear you.”

Tom lowered his voice a bit but continued.

“Maybe I wanted her to hear me?” he taunted.

“No, you didn't.” Harry was certain. “Else you would have already flayed her alive. And what is that crap about flirting? She is merely a Quidditch fan,” he protested.

Tom tsked.

“Language.”

Harry smirked.

“Stalling?”

Tom merely smirked back.

“You can't be that naive.”

Harry was insistent.

“She is Madame Pomfrey; she can't be flirting with me.”

Now both Tom's eyebrows were up, clearly asking what was his point.

“The first incarnation of me you met was Gramps, yet, you are my best friend. Dearest Minerva was your head of house and yet, here she is, also your ex-girlfriend.”

Harry, to his total embarrassment, was forced to explain.

“Madame Pomfrey can't be flirting with me; she has seen me naked too many times.”

Tom totally lost it. He threw his head back, laughing until tears were running from his eyes, completing the mess that was his face. Still, as the mortification slowly left Harry he became aware of something else and the warm glow intensified at his chest.

Tom had been jealous.

But, before he could enjoy his realisation or even be stupid enough to comment on it to Tom there was something, like a comet, bursting into the room. He found himself with an armful of Hermione.

“Oh Harry, I was so worried, thank God and Merlin and whatever you want that you are okay,” she babbled.

She took his face in her hands, like she wanted to assure herself that he was alright. Harry's heart expanded again.

“I'm alright, Herm, truly,” he assured her gently.

After she was satisfied from what she read in his face she hugged him once again, pulling the final stuffing out of him, and was then up like a shot, repeating the process on Tom.

Harry could swear he saw actual panic on Tom's face for a moment.

But Tom was still Tom, the emotion didn't last more than a second. He relaxed and instead of releasing her, like Harry expected, he cupped her face and gave her a rather heated kiss.

The bite of jealousy was sharp and painful but Harry wasn't blinded from it enough to miss that Hermione stiffened imperceptibly before responding. That and Tom's previous hesitation was enough to indicate that something was at the very least suspicious.

That belief was only fortified by the others' reaction to the scene. Whilst Alphard and Brax's shock was simply due to the semi-public display of affection and even Zev's was excusable, Minerva's reaction was something exceptional.

Although his cattish friend was Gryffindor and held strong opinions on his relationship with Tom, nothing in said opinions was enough to provide such a look of disquiet from the mere sight of a couple kissing. Harry was going to get to the bottom of this. . .

“Hi guys,” he greeted cheerily, masking his unease.

The others followed his example acting like they didn't see anything exceptional and greeted back.

Minerva was even mock glaring for effect.

“So I'm one of the guys, Harry?”

How to answer to that one?

“Well,” he said, grateful for the distraction, “yes and no.”

Minerva smiled.

“Don't worry; I won't have you elaborate on that one, here.”

He relaxed with her teasing and finally Tom seemed to have had enough of proving his point. But, instead of releasing her, he kept Hermione sitting on his bed with an arm around her, looking at his most possessive. Harry's instinct was screaming that the whole display was mostly theatre.

Tom didn't bother with greetings.

“What happened in the last twelve hours?” his voice was soft, but it was an order. He put some privacy wards up.

Harry's brow furrowed. This was only a step before the strict 'Report' he should have expected, had they been alone with the guys and Mione. Tom wasn't wasting but the tiniest bit of courtesy on Minnie's behalf. . .what the hell had they talked about in the Quidditch game?

Strangely, it was also Minnie that started explaining.

“The aurors examined the battlefield late the evening. While there was an excess of dark magic it was too messed up to make out where it came from, or even which curses were used. The state of the bodies after Grindelwald's attack helped in that. Tom, Harry, you are not completely off the hook yet. You will probably get asked for questioning in the ministry at the start of the holidays, but it will not be as suspects for the kind of curses that could send you to Azkaban.”

Harry was quite relieved. He didn't regret anything, but, now that the adrenalin was down, the last thing he wanted was to end up in Azkaban and take his friends with him. Still, something was bothering him.

Tom expressed it, first, with a frown.

“What about witnesses? There must be at least some of them.”

Minerva waved him off but Tom's frown only deepened. Harry took it from there.

“The ministry is worthless; no disagreement there, but still, something must have been reported?” he swore inside. Harry loathed obliviating people, but none of them were going to Azkaban.

“No need,” Alphard answered, “The town's people told the ministry where to shove it.”

“Alphard!” Both Mione and Minerva cried together. Minnie also added a very sharp elbow to the mix, if Alphard's wince was anything to judge by.

“There are ladies present,” Tom chided. “Get to the point,” he added impatiently, but with some amusement as well.

“We have all been questioned by the Aurors, but Minerva and Hermione were the only true witnesses from our party to the inner dispute and, from what I gathered, only Minerva to the most interesting part,” Abraxas added smoothly.

That was one explanation for Minerva's presence here, friend or not.

Tom's arm tightened around Hermione.

“Care to share, dear heart?”

Hermione blushed a bit but her voice was steady.

“We were lucky that Samuel Diggory was with us. Minister McLaggan was too busy to personally check the scene and so sent his Undersecretary, George Diggory, to do it for him. Mr Diggory's only real concern was if his son was alright and when he heard that he fought with us and Harry saved his life he didn't even bother to ask what curses were used. He finished the interrogations post haste and he all but hit Dumbledore when the latter suggested priori incantatem - 'just to be on the safe side,' as he put it.”

Harry was embarrassed and he certainly didn't remember saving Sam's life. Suddenly he froze, the missing wand taking a very sinister meaning.

Thankfully his priori and a fast check showed that no one had tempered with his wand.

Minerva looked like she was ready to cry.

“I'm terribly sorry Harry; I tried to prevent something bad from happening.”

Harry was puzzled by her extreme reaction, but he didn't read anything deceitful in her face, eyes or voice. Granted, Minerva was the farthest person from hysterical, but it could have been a complete disaster. He let the matter go, for now, and sent her a reassuring smile.

“It's okay Minnie, nothing happened.”

“Great work Minerva, anything else that we need to hear?”

There was deep mockery to Tom's tone, naturally, but amazingly so, no solid distrust. This was no acting; from what Harry could read, as far as Tom was concerned, Minerva was one of theirs. Whatever happened at the game must have solidified her changing sides for good.

Tom's intense attention was certainly making the transfiguration's assistant very uncomfortable. She coloured and faltered, for a second, under his scrutiny, but after an awkward cough she started speaking.

“After the ministry workers left Dumbledore asked the Headmaster to call a staff meeting. Dippet agreed to his wish and after everyone gathered Dumbledore started stirring things again by essentially expressing his worry that no matter what the ministry was saying there was no way that you two could have saved the school without using really dark arts and called his brother Aberforth and me as his witnesses.
Aberforth used even more colourful language than Alphard, but in essence he told his brother that if he was incapable to take care of the murderer of their sister out of his feelings the least he could do was to leave those who could free to do so.”

Minerva's tone was lightly gleeful at the last part, but also more than a little enquiring, if her questioning glances around was saying something.

Harry had a feeling she understood just fine but she wasn't ready to believe it. Changed sides or not, somewhere it hurt. He squeezed her hand.

“I will explain later.”

“You left something in the middle.” Tom's voice was mild but Harry felt the tension to his bones.

Minerva gained a look of deep apprehension, but then she raised her head and continued bravely, like the Gryffindor she was.

“I told them that I didn't know what they were talking about, what dark arts? I saw nothing like that and certainly nothing illegal. Headmaster Dippet and the other professors believed me.” she hesitated for a second and closed her eyes.

There was a quiet despair when she opened them.

“Afterwards Dumbledore told me that we both needed to consider if I was to continue my apprenticeship.” She didn't need to say anything else.

“I'm really sorry Minnie; it's all my fault. . .” Harry tried, the words nowhere near enough to express how bad he felt.

“Stop it, you stupid,” Minerva snarled. “It's certainly not your fault. I chose to fight and hide your skins. If I lose my job, so be it. . .” her voice broke a bit to the last part.

Alphard immediately hugged her tenderly.

“Oh baby, I'm so sorry. When I graduate in the summer we are going to marry, I promise. I know it's not the same like having a career but as Lady Black you won't miss on anything, I swear.”

Minerva relaxed minutely in his arms.

“I haven't even agreed on dating you, yet, Alphard,” was all she said. But it lacked bite.

“But you will, won't you?” the joker's tone was an alarming mix between confidence and pleading.

Harry closed his eyes tightly. Minerva was so brave but he knew perfectly well what he had done. He had chosen consciously to cultivate his association with the young version of his professor. More, that news should have been anticipated logically, but somehow it caught him completely in the dark.

It was entirely his fault, he, alone, had cost Minnie her beloved job and subsequently her independence. Worse was that at this time and age it was going to be bloody difficult, if not impossible, for her to acquire another one - never mind to something equal. Worst of all, he completely lacked the means to help, personally, in any way.

“Hero, drop the pity party.” Tom.

Harry glared heatedly. This wasn't a pity party, it concerned far more than his failings; it was the life of another person, a close friend. But what he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

There was something in Tom's face. While it was controlled like usually, its lines seemed illuminated in sharp relief. He looked at Minerva beyond intensely with something that whereas undetermined, promised nothing good. Worse, there was a variation of that expression upon Mione and Zevi's faces.

There was only one explanation for that and it really pissed him off. (But it also gave his anger and self hate a much needed outlet.)

“What's wrong with you people?” he shouted. “The woman got in deep shit saving our bacon and you look at her like she betrayed us! I've got news; if that was the case we'd already be in Azkaban. What next? To tell her it is her fault and problem?”

Every eye was on him, shocked. Minerva looked like she wanted to be swallowed by the earth, but Harry didn't regret his words. Even if he had mistaken the looks they needed to be shaken a bit on the severity of the problem.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione started, obviously expecting an explanation for his outburst, but for the moment Harry ignored her. He had his eyes trained on Tom's darkened ones and waited for his own explanation. He didn't have to wait for long.

“I will overlook the tone and deplorable language, due to your tension from the hospital, for now. You are not off the hook.” Tom started.

“If I believed even for a second that Minerva betrayed us I would have already punished her, severely, I'm more than capable of that, even right now. If you so desperately want to know my thoughts, I was merely contemplating out ways to help her; she is one of ours now.”

Harry gulped under that burning gaze. He knew that most, if not everything, Tom told him was the truth. It didn't matter now when Minerva had become 'one of ours', as his friend put it. It only mattered that she was. The Teen Dark Lord may not care about people in general, or even in particular, with very few exceptions, but he acknowledged loyalty and even rewarded it. He was going to find a way to help him fix that mess.
“I'm sorry for going immediately to the worst conclusion, not that you haven't given me ample reason for that.” Harry apologised- but couldn't help a small dig.

Tom smirked at that and nodded. At least that one was solved.

Brax coughed delicately.

“If I may, I think I have a solution to Miss McGonagall's problem.”

Tom nodded imperiously for him to continue but before Brax could make his suggestion Miss Pomfrey walked in looking furious.

“What was that shouting? I allowed your friends inside, bending the rules I might add, and you are acting like barbarians! You may be the only patients for now but this is an infirmary for Merlin's sake. . .” she crossed her arms over her chest and finished her rant, glaring daggers, making a truly fearsome figure.

Oh yes, this was the Pomfrey with who Harry was so well acquainted. He sighed. Tom had supposedly covered the privacy ward yet here she was damn it. . . next time he was going to cast it himself. . . for now.

“I'm truly sorry Miss Pomfrey, it won't happen again.”

Madame Pomfrey hmmped, (at this moment she indeed looked like a Madame).

“See that it won't, I'm very disappointed in you.”

Harry glared at Tom; it was his fault and here he was playing innocent.

Minerva tried to take some of the weight.

“It was my fault too Poppy.”

Pomfrey smiled.

“Nonsense, my friend, I didn't hear your voice after all, they are just boys and so. . . immature.” she said it looking more at Harry than anyone else but if it was a dig he ignored it.

But then her eyes fell on their full plates and flashed.

“What is that? I left you in your own devices so you could eat and be ready for treatment but, obviously, you were too distracted. Out everyone.”

The last part was a sharp order.

The guys and Hermione got on their feet but Harry wanted to address the Minerva problem first.

“Please Miss Pomfrey a little while yet.”

Pomfrey looked undecided but then Tom had the brilliant idea to open his mouth.

“A little bit more, Madame, there are some problems that need addressing and Harry was kind of a little distracted, perhaps he wanted to spend more time in the hospital wing.”

Harry was going to kill Tom in the slowest, most painful, way.

But it was effective. Miss Pomfrey, blushed scarlet, ordered a brisk, “Five minutes.” and was out of the door like a shot.

Harry allowed himself to explode.

“What the hell was that?”

Tom smirked.

“I fixed the problem and made you a nice favour too.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Salazar helps me from your favours! I don't even know where you get such ideas.”

Tom played the offended.

“And what about your weakness to older women? You may complain but it's obvious that you have a thing for your previously mother like figures. I'm merely helping you to get it over as soon as possible.”

Harry's eyes bulged, that was getting so beyond play. Tom really wanted to spend more time in the hospital wing.

But before he could curse the shit out of him Hermione snapped, sharp as a whip.

“Guys.”

They both turned their attention to her, Hermione paling under their glares.

“Madame Pomfrey said five minutes,” she reminded carefully.

Right, Minerva.

“If you don't mind continuing Brax.”

Brax looked weird, like he had lost half his presentation, but shrugged and started again.

“Two things, we can either ask the support of the board of governors or, Miss McGonagall, you could start working as tutor. My family and I will be more than glad to recommend you.”

Minerva looked at Brax like she was truly surprised at how thoughtful his offer was.

“Thank you Mr Malfoy I really appreciate it,” she smiled gratefully.

“I may take you up to that.”

Abraxas smiled, genuinely looking glad he helped.

“Brax please, that is how my most Gryffindorish friends address me. The offer stands even if you marry that clown here,” he nodded at Alphard,

“Transfiguration is such a notoriously difficult subject.”

“Thank you Brax, my name is Minerva,” she answered.

“Hey don't flirt with my girlfriend,” Alphard only half joked.

Everyone laughed and Harry was gratified to see Minerva squeezing Alphard's hand, so no problem there.

“If it's a transfigurations master/teacher the career you want, is it necessary to be at Hogwarts?” Zevi's soft voice restarted the matter.

“If you are not so particular, my mother's ex mistress at Beauxbatons, Madame Devereaux, is seeking an assistant.”

Minerva's eyes got round at the second offer.

“Oh, I never expected something like that, thank you, I really must think on what is best.”

Tom stretched like a cat.

“I wouldn't worry too much if I was in your place, for all you know Dumbledore may not be teaching next year and they will need a new transfiguration teacher.”

Harry blanched, the last thing he needed was for Tom to scare Minerva out of the door now that she had completely relaxed in their company. Thankfully Minnie wasn't the easily scared type and smiled, taking it as a joke.

“Your humour is really macabre, Tom.”

Tom wasn't offended.

“So they have told me.”

Them Miss Pomfrey returned.

“Five minutes are up; Madame Wilson is going to kill both you and me.”

Their friends started leaving but the mention of the older healer brought something to Harry's mind.

“Hey Zev, are you related with Madame Wilson in any way?”

Zev smiled, surprised.

“Yes, she is my mother's aunt, how you'd know?”

Harry smiled ruefully.

“You don't want to know.”

Zevi shrugged.

“I can guess well enough. She has a closer relative in the school, you know, than me and my sister. . .her niece, Augusta, is a sixth year Gryffindor.” with that parting shot he left, smirking.

Harry was too busy laughing to retaliate. “Oh poor Neville!” was the only thing he was able to say. . .

Minerva was curious.

“Who's Neville?”

But Tom had enough of company.

“No one that you know, now leave.”

Minerva huffed angrily but did as she was told.

“You were rude,” Harry told him after he had finally managed to control his laughter.

Tom merely raised an eyebrow.

“So?”

Harry didn't hold much back. . .

“I would have preferred if you weren't, or even stop scaring her. To the point, I don't want her returning to Dumbledore just because we, or more like it you, frightened her.”

Tom sent him a withering glare.

“If you believe even for a second that I will modulate my behaviour for a mere follower then you are dreaming on.”

Harry grit his teeth, but was perfectly aware that Tom was goading him. He wasn't going to do him the favour, no, so he widened his eyes and sent his friend a brilliant smile.

“But I thought you did that with everyone?” he asked oh so innocently.

Tom's flashing eyes were proof enough that his words had found their mark, but his friend was too good a player to truly react.

“All the more reason to drop some of the act with my supposed closest ones, after all, I promised Hermione to try being less sexist.”

Harry couldn't help himself, he laughed again. This was so horrible that it was actually good.

“You are so not comedian.”

Tom's lips twitched.

“Yet you laugh.”

Harry shook his head.

“How can I not? That was beyond terrible, only you could ever consider being an equal opportunity obnoxious as a virtue.”

Tom turned serious again.

“If she is to remain in our circle, as more than Alphard's wife, she will have to get used to some things. I wouldn't worry for her if I was you; she can handle it and has far more guts and devotion than I gave her credit before. Your spare but impassioned speech for magical balance made her a far stronger impression that you can imagine.”

Harry's lips tightened for a second and that was the only sign of his distress. If Tom had seen that discussion he had seen and the rest of it. . . Still, after everything that had happened. . . it was small potatoes.

“Did you just compliment Minerva, a Gryffindor?” he asked half incredulously to cover things.

Tom merely looked at him,

“Why so surprised? You are a half Gryffindor and so is Hermione. After all, if we are going to unite the whole wizarding world we'll need the Gryffindors as well.”

Tom seemed sincere, too sincere.

“Thank you for your consideration,” he answered dryly, “but why am I not buying it?”

The Teen Dark Lord looked at him strangely. If it was from someone other than his friend, Harry would have called it coyly flirtatious.

“You are overly suspicious, darling. If you want to know, the only thing that Gryffindors, in general, and your friend Minerva truly lacks is some subtlety. She would make a terrible spy.”

Harry was assaulted, for a second, with the distasteful memory of the one successful Gryffindor spy and made a disgusted face. He was ready to tell Tom that he should be thankful that they didn't have any when he backtracked to his friend's last statement, it may sound like their usual banter but there was and a great deal of menace and censure lying underneath the teasing.

Tom may have played, this, lightly but it was anything but.

“You had Minnie spying on Dumbledore.” it wasn't a question.

Tom merely raised an eyebrow.

“Why, are you surprised?”

Harry smiled bitterly.

“No, not really; though, it would have been appreciated if you had informed me at the very least.”

Tom examined him critically.

“And would you have agreed if I had?”

It was a legitimate question, not merely teasing and Harry tried to answer honestly not simply emotionally.

“I'm not completely sure. I would never have allowed for Minerva to be sent to her ambition's destruction for any reason, but it is possible that I'm influenced from the result. It also matters how needed the information was.”

The Teen Dark Lord regarded him just as solemnly.

“One, your precious Minerva is far from destroyed in any way, she just doesn't have a place on the other side any more; something that I believe was your plan anyway. Don't blame me on how it happened. It's not my fault that she didn't know the first thing on how to hide herself.”

Harry grid his teeth viciously. Regrettably, Tom had a point.

“Suppose that I accept this, why were you so kind to her, you are not that fond of failure?” he tested.

Something savage passed across Tom's face. It was fleeting, barely a second, but it was indication enough of a major strike.

“No, I'm not, but her usefulness is far from over in merely spying. She is truly loyal to us and the news that Dumbledore's own assistant switched sides will create quite the ripple on his followers.”

Harry was somewhat alarmed by the frosty tone.

“Don't you even think about holding a grudge. . . she did her best and, as you pointed out, it will work for us. . .What do you want to find so desperately that you resorted on spying on Dumbledore anyway?” he asked.

Tom merely shook his head at Harry's threatening tone.

“Don't worry, hero, I won't hurt your lioness for her foolishness, just never ask her something beyond her capabilities ever again.” his voice was mocking but sincere.

Harry shrugged, as long as Tom didn't lift a finger at Minnie he didn't really care what he called her in his mind and was going to ensure that she wasn't going to get any more involved in either case.

“You still didn't answer about what you wanted from Dumbledore,” he pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

Tom merely looked at him as he resumed talking.

“Don't tell me you were alright without knowing anything from Dumbledore's plans, even before his surprise at the battle.”

Harry held his gaze and something in his eyes softened a bit, it wasn't only because of the bond that they frequently shared that specific nightmare.

“No I wasn't but that didn't mean that it was alright to involve Minnie.”

Tom scoffed.

“Oh please spare me, Minerva was in the perfect place for the job and wasn't coerced in any way, she was an adult and conscious of her decision. I merely asked her, politely, and she agreed. If you want to complain about it do it honestly.”

Harry glared daggers.

“What the hell do you mean? I'm as honest as I can be with you.”

Tom tsked.

“Really darling, then you must have started lying to yourself as well. The only reason that you were pissed from Minerva's mission was because she is your follower and you didn't like that I stuck my nose into your business. Welcome to my world, love.”

Harry gaped.

“I don't lie to myself; Minerva is my friend not a follower, I don't have those. Of course I care if you get her in trouble. You want to treat people callously, that's your problem, just don't tell me that I do the same,” he hissed.

Tom smiled chillingly and started eating his soup.

“I don't need to tell you, it's a fact. If you refuse to acknowledge it you do more damage to yourself than me. You are my equal, but if you continue to deny it I will use it against you, that I promise. If you won't direct your minions I will do it for you.”

Harry's anger boiled.

“You don't have any rights to those not sworn to you. . . and stop talking like I'm a bloody Lord.”

Tom's eyes were burning.

“You are a Lord!” his voice held more passion than Harry ever heard before. “The longer you keep lying to yourself the weaker you will be. I won't have it.” He took a calming breath.

“Eat your soup; I won't have the healer bitching at us again.”

Harry's nerves were on edge, his stomach spasming. With a single thought he banished the soup; he wouldn't keep it down as it was. He tried to speak calmly.

“Tom, you are way exaggerating when you call me a Lord, we are very alike in many things, yes, but I have nor the temperament and certainly not the attitude to be one.”

Tom's eyes had narrowed at his display and he didn't seem to be paying any attention to Harry's words.

“You shouldn't do that, sweetheart, you are already skin and bones, almost worst than your first coming here. You really should ask Pomfrey for more.”

Harry's temper, already on thin ice with Tom today, snapped at the patronising tone, for all the true concern he could read. It was in par with his friend after all to care only on his own terms.

“None of your damn business,” he hissed in his most derisive tone.

But, instead of snapping back at the blatant disregard Tom smiled brilliantly. There was a good deal of gloating in that smile, yet it was honest. Terrifying!

“And here you come to my words; you are incapable to follow an order to save your life, it may come as a surprise to you but living under anyone's rule but your self’s is also a Lord's prerogative.”

Harry was stunned for a moment. That argument may sound logical but it couldn't be. Surely he wasn't the only independent minded wizard in Britain, never mind the world.

“I have no problem with following orders in general, only yours in particular.” he deadpanned to hide his unease.

It certainly didn't defer Tom, whose expression could only be called wolfish.

“All the more reason for me to hold my opinion. . .”

Harry groaned inwardly and debated with himself, for a moment, if it was worth it to continue with the topic, now, or drop it. The last thing he needed was to be shackled with the expectations of a Lord, yet, he know that tone pretty well, Tom was never going to change his mind, in this, no matter what he was going to say. He was probably only going to waste his breath. . . then again, the hell with it.

His face hardened and he opened his mouth to tell Tom where to put his crazy ideas, grimly detailed, when he heard steps at the door again. Pomfrey was returning to bug them. Really the hospital wing was the last place for such a discussion.

“Later,” he hissed with resolution.

Tom merely waved him off in a sardonic gesture that had the clear meaning of 'Bring it on'.

What kinds of wards Tom had cast? Ineffective was a mild word, either Tom was far more affected by his injuries that he let on, or he was playing games again. But what he did he have to win from this mess?

Pomfrey walked back briskly and every hint of flirting or good humour was gone. If she was professional before she appeared frosty now.

“Really, you two, I leave you alone for a few moments and you start fighting again. What are you, adult wizards or small kids?”

Harry blushed scarlet and started to defend himself but she paid him no attention and he finally understood Tom's game. His friend didn't want to encourage the romance but to destroy it in the roots.

He honestly didn't know what to feel; as far as he was concerned there wasn't a romance to be destroyed and a small part of him was ecstatic at Tom's irrational jealousy. But he was also beyond irritated - this had almost nothing to do with emotions or possessiveness, it was mostly a blatant disregard of his independence. . . in either case nothing good. . .
Finally Pomfrey noticed the plates.

“At least you two ate. . .Ready for the treatment?” her voice didn't leave the slightest opening for frivolities; she demanded a simple yes or no. . .

. . .And so they answered simultaneously.

“Yes ma'am.” Tom was looking at him with a frown but thankfully didn't mention that he needed more soup. Small mercies. . .

Miss Pomfrey didn't miss a second after their affirmation. Muttering a quick, “Fractus Revelio.” and waving her wand at them in a complicate and graceful ark, she set to work.

The feeling of her magic wasn't bad, truthfully quite soothing and not invasive, but the result of the spell not so much. Harry felt a bit queasy in his stomach as he realised just how many places in his body were engulfed in the soft orange glow, the same with Tom.

The careful vanish of each orange hued bone, on both of them, took a long time. When Harry was finally handed the potion he drank it, quite thankful. This was going to be beyond painful but he was used to that and he'd rather have the pain for a few hours than the wrong feeling of the missing bones.

“Try to rest a bit, but even if you can't, either I, or Madame Wilson, are going to give you a potion to sleep afterwards. Don't worry; you will be free by tomorrow morning and won't miss the last day, or any holiday.”

Tom thanked her for her care, always the model student, (model actor truly) and Harry followed his example, though inside he was scheming.

Like hell would they give him a calming draught, as soon as the effect of skele-gro was over Harry planned to return to his dorm even if he had to use a compulsion. . . it was up to Tom for his own actions, maybe his friend would want to keep his act as intact as it got, but he wasn't going to stay here a second more than necessary. . .

Finally Pomfrey left them alone. Harry closed his eyes enjoying the short moment before the pain started again, but then he heard Tom's very satisfied hiss. . .

“Good riddance.”

Harry opened one eye.

“What's wrong with you today?”

Tom looked at him innocently.

“Nothing is wrong, why do you say that. . .”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“With such nerves? Pull the other one Tom. . .” He waited a moment, before adding with casual deliverance, “. . .and it's not like you to botch up a spell.”

Tom's eyes flashed.

“I didn't mess the wards, for your information they did exactly as they should.”

Sometimes Tom's arrogance got right on his nerves.

“Oh yeah, then why did Pomfrey decided to visit us every five minutes?”

Tom looked like he was searching for patience.

“Oh I don't know, maybe she was dying to find out what we were talking about, but most likely it was you. The ward's function is to scramble the sounds, not hide the volume; it would have been far too suspicious if there was no sound at all.”

Harry responded with the same look.

“I think that you got it too far, Tom. Madams Wilson and Pomfrey work for the school and Dumbledore is not the headmaster, I doubt they are actively spying on us.”

Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe, but can you risk it?”

Harry shook his head fondly.

“Paranoid git.”

Tom flashed him a smile.

“You've told me once already.”

Then his smile was gone.

“Any way, shouting like that was only your latest in several mistakes; you really must work on it.”

Harry had known it would have come to this. . .

“Care to enlighten me to them?” he asked to get over the lecture.

“Gladly.”

Tom's expression was far too predatory for Harry's tastes at the moment.

“You let Grindelwald get under your skin and so revealed your power early with your outbursts. That was an advantage lost to us.”

“Maybe,” Harry conceded. “But he was there the whole battle so he had a pretty good idea what we were capable of and it's not like you didn't have some minor flares yourself. . .”

Tom acted like he hadn't spoken at all.

“And what were you thinking getting in front of me like I was your defenceless girlfriend?”

Harry blushed but held his ground.

“Hey we protect and get in front of each other all the bloody time, it wasn't like that.”

“Really?” Tom's eyes were searing into him, alight with intense rage.

“It can hardly count as our usual behaviour; we protect each other in battle, yes, not from the eyes of an old pervert. You made me look weak to the people watching, not an easy thing to forgive.”

Harry lowered his head, his faint flush intensifying to the point of a tomato. The last thing he wanted to do was to insult Tom like that. He was in deep shit. . . Still, something bothered him.

“I'm really sorry Tom,” he told his friend, honestly contrite.

“It wasn't my intention to abate you like that, but it’s not like I could help it under the circumstances, even you weren't completely composed at the time.”

Tom's eyes darkened at the remembrance.

“Of course I wasn't, you are my best (only) friend and the old lecher was practically undressing you with his eyes.” the tone was clipped, short.

“The point, darling, is moderation. Had I reacted the same way as you, you would have been just as insulted.”

Harry wasn't sure of the last one; he had a feeling that he would have liked the reassurance too much for it. Still, the thought of been treated like a female and a defenceless one at that would smart greatly as well.

“Probably,” he accepted.

Tom surveyed him for a moment.

“But you don't have to worry, the insult won't go unpunished, sooner or later the old bastard will fall by our hands and he will get what he deserves. . .” Tom's voice held promise and his eyes glinted maniacally at the prospect of revenge. “. . .and he will regret it a thousand times that he didn't die the easy way at the battle.”

Harry should have been apprehensive of this, even a little bit, but for once he was on total agreement, no hesitations.

“Count me in,” he said simply.

Their eyes met in complete understanding, Tom's expression fully open for a moment. . .

But then he restarted the lecture.

“There is of course the matter of your final attack.”

Harry didn't expect this. . .

“I don't have such a thing.”

“Sure you don't,” Tom mocked him gently, “it's not a specific move but the logic is the same. Every time you are truly cornered you end up making a suicide move. I won't have it, even you can't be lucky enough to survive it forever and ever.”

The last words were dead serious, more; Harry could swear he glimpsed something like concern. He swallowed.

“It's not like I'm doing it for fun.” He tried to lighten things.

Tom snorted and then it was worse than being under a microscope.

“Try again,” was all he said.

Harry had started to believe that he'd badly underestimated Tom's agitation.

“I will do whatever is needed every time,” he stated honestly, “but I never want to take others with me,” he compromised.

Tom nodded.

“Alright, I will make sure you'll never be alone.”

This was more a threat than a middle ground, but Harry accepted it for the moment. He had a feeling that it was going to bring them many fights in the future, but maybe they could work with this. . .

They relaxed in comfortable silence, waiting the full pain to hit in, but then Tom, contrary bastard that never let things rest, opened his mouth again.

“I almost forgot. . . your public language, at least, needs fixing. It is totally degrading for a Lord,” his friend added casually.

Harry's eyes opened again, wide. . .

The hell he had forgotten, this was all for effect. . .

“How many times do I need to tell you that I'm not a Lord, have you got stuck or something?” he barely remembered to not shout.

The flash of the following anger would have terrified someone lesser. Still, in spite of this, Tom kept things conversational.

“No, that's you; you're so stuck in your ideas of right and wrong that you miss the whole point and it could very well cost us our lives.”

For all the nitro freezing, derisive, tone and volcanic feelings there was more logic here than anger. Harry was both wary and intrigued.

“What the hell do you mean?”

His friend didn't answer immediately but stabbed him with his eyes, like if, even with their bond, it was impossible to understand him sometimes.

Finally, when he was ready to curse him, Tom decided to speak.

“It hasn't sunk in, what happened, yet, has it..?” his voice something softer than whisper.

This wasn't what he expected; Harry gulped thickly at that unguarded look. He wasn't completely sure but he had a feeling where this was going and it messed his insides with foreboding.

Tom didn't give him the time to answer.

“. . .This was the worst battle we ever faced, if you haven't pulled that crazy, suicidal, stunt we'd have ended bodiless spirits waiting our companions' mercy to be revived, if we were lucky, not that I've forgiven the stunt itself.”

The confirmation had a bitter taste. Harry would have liked to be able to call his friend's fears an exaggeration, or to simply dismiss them, but he couldn't, he understood all too well. He was used to the feeling, like each battle could easily be his last one - in fact, if his life had taught him anything it was that it could end any second. For Tom it was a completely different matter. . .

Tom wasn't used in enemies he couldn't overcome, or even having suffered true damage, the worst he ever came across in combat, before, was obliviation. Even during their first fight, when they got really close to death, it had gone too fast to truly register.

For his friend's assertive personality it was a very bitter pill to swallow. The fear was unmistakable even if Tom was doing his best to keep up the pretence of their normal bantering, judging by his comment about the desperate stunt.

Harry opened his mouth to comfort him, then closed it again. Whatever he could say now would be empty, or as good as. He couldn't promise for sure that they were going to survive the incoming attacks, like before. He knew better now. Nor could he wallow in the guilt that it was his fault. Tom had gotten into the mess only because Harry had volunteered him. . . Tom didn't want empty emotions, guilt, or even understanding.

He knew his friend too well for that. The only reason for Tom to admit such unprecedented humiliation, (Harry could probably feel its stinging depth from the other side of the school) was if he wanted something, something Harry wasn't prepared to give. . .Namely the matter at hand, so he told his conscience to wait and held his ground.

“You're getting awfully off topic here Tom,” he said flippantly, pretending he hadn't understood the Teen's Dark Lord mortification, or play.

Tom, seeing that Harry wasn't going to make things easy, stopped beating the bush.

“Hardly, we have a deal for our future and the future of our world, no? I have kept my part, giving my everything, but not you. You are holding back, weakening us. I want you to finally admit you are a Lord.”
Harry was growing more worried with every word leaving his friend's lips. The endgame was already known but the way that Tom used his vulnerability, except as guilty trip, baffled him to his core.

“I don't understand what the hell you may gain with this,” he frustratedly admitted.

“You really don't understand!” Tom sounded awed by his stupidity.

The tone irked Harry and he answered harsher than he intended.

“What is that I don't understand? You may get off on it if I get an arse's attitude too, but how is going to help the war effort? Try again. . . except if you believe it will draw more followers into our side. . . but I really doubt it.”

Strangely, Tom kept his voice civil.

“Hardly, but as you obviously hadn't bothered to read anything on the matter. . . Lord, is not a title that one can simply chose to take, or even to be given by others. . . it's a power level.”

“I see,” Harry managed his head swimming.

This was something completely new and it changed many things inside him. He needed to think, hard, on it, and read to be sure. But he already felt many ideas and misconceptions get shaken. Even Tom, who he always attributed as being fat headed due to his claiming of the title at mere fifteen, if not younger, may not have been as completely conceited as Harry had believed him to be.

Tom waited a bit until he was satisfied with what he saw on his face.

“Do you understand now? If you don't accept what you are, deeply into your heart and mind, you are only holding yourself back and limiting your power. . . surely not the most helpful thing on a battlefield.”

There was again a hint of the same passion which Harry had seen on his friend's first outburst of the topic. The only other time he had seen Tom like this was during the horcrux discussion. A true matter of life and death. . . but maybe. . . unlike then. . . he didn't have to dread it. He took a deep breath.

“I suppose that you may have a point,” he told Tom solemnly.

“If that is what being a Lord truly entitles and I find reading material matching your words I will do my best to accept it as part of myself.” He smiled impishly. “Now that I know that it doesn't need to mean changes to my outlook it's so much easier. . .”

There was a shadow passing at his friend's eyes, like he expected the adding of a price to the concession, but it didn't last long. Tom matched his smile, devilish intent and all.

“Oh I don't know, you already have the attitude you complain about, but if you want to keep it. . .”

Harry's smile was long past.

“What on earth do you mean?”

Tom didn't look like he was joking anymore in the slightest.

“You frequently complain about the way that I treat my followers but you have started doing the same. I don't truly mind but its disturbing coming from you and even more so if you aren't aware of it.”

Harry's mind was spinning. There was a ring of truth in Tom's words and conviction. He had always tried to treat his friends and, to a slight lesser extent, people in general, in the best possible way. It had taken a bit more effort after the Horcrux, but he thought he'd managed, if that wasn't the case. . . Still as much as he searched he couldn't find a case in his memories that he was truly horrible at someone not deserving it.

“Give me an example,” he voiced his doubts.
Tom didn't miss a second.

“The way you treated your Lioness. . . the second you thought I was getting too close to her you passed her over to Alphard like second hand furniture.”

Harry gaped for a moment. It wasn't like that, was it? He could see some of Tom's point but he didn't do it like that, he was nowhere near that cold. . .

“I didn't pass her over like that,” he defended himself.

“After I found out that Alphard is in love with Minnie he asked me if I was serious about her, as we weren't anything of the sort I moved aside. Minerva had every right to tell him to take a hike. . . it was a friends thing to do, even you did this courtesy when you started courting Mione, and Slytherin but nowhere near darklordish.”
Tom levelled him with a challenging look.

“Assuming that I can accept that, to a point, care to explain why you exploded at Abraxas, the previous year, for his disapproval regarding Apollonius Lovegood dating his sister?”

Harry could recall that day. He had been so angry and disappointed with Abraxas, then, not only for been rude enough intruding on Marcella's romance with a poorer guy. He clenched his teeth.

“How could Brax ignore Luna like that? She was almost as closely related to him as Draco, it must have been obvious to him, how could he been such an arse?”

Tom stroked his chin examining him carefully.

“Ah I see, you were protecting crazy Lovegood's honour and future existence.”

Harry glared. It was beyond petty for Tom to insult Luna's memory after everything.

“Her name was and will be again Luna.”

Tom gave the smallest half mocking nod in acknowledgement.
“Excuse me then, Luna. But does that emotional response pardon interfering into family? As far I know friendship doesn't cut it that far. . .” Tom's mild conversational tone of voice made his words sting that much worse.

Harry blanched at this. He had done his damn hardest to not think about the incident in terms like that, but he wasn't completely blind. He could try to apologise to Brax at a later day but that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was how little remorse he'd felt about this action, even now that he knew. Tom told him this to stop him hiding from himself and so to build himself back up and fortify his defences. It also made him aware of something else, something he couldn't afford. Harry very deliberately chose not think on this. . .not now.

With well practised ease Harry let go of his train of thought and focused on the point on hand. He regarded Tom calmly.

“You made your point; I can be as much a bastard as you, happy?”

Tom's lips twisted into something like a bitter smile.

“Nowhere near there, you could never get that far. . . and no, it was only half the point. The other half is that due to your emotional nature and by allowing your self delusions to exist, you open yourself up to emotional harm which can easily turn into festering wounds. . .”

Harry's eyes widened frantically. . .

Tom could be somewhat right but he couldn't deal with this, not now.

Well, 'Not Now' had started sounding like his personal mantra. . .

“I'm not that fragile, Tom, drop it.”

Tom didn't have such qualms.

“Case in point: Amelia Bones.”
Harry flinched.

{He had tried very hard to forget that he ever dated Amelia Bones the previous year. They had become friends when Roger had introduced them to tutor her in defence for getting into the Auror program.

Their affair had come from this, quietly and naturally enough. Harry had found solace in her sweet seriousness, which eased a bit the absence of everyone he'd lost. He had done his best to be a good boyfriend, going by the standards of his own time, supporting her dreams and independence, while abiding to the restrictions of today and never going further than the strict rules that she had laid.

It hadn't been enough.

Harry was the first to admit that she deserved someone more attentive, as he only managed to give her a quartet of his free time, regularly, some times he managed half. But it wasn't anywhere near enough of an excuse for the way she dumped him, although the malicious part was unintentional, after four months.

It had come completely out of the blue. He had judged her ready and trusted enough to show her what defence could truly be like and convinced Tom to spar with him in front of her. . . the same night she dumped him.

If it was the dark arts he would accept it more easily, she was from a very light family after all. But no, she insisted that they should end because she was sure his true thing was with Tom and she didn't want to be in the way. She was too nice to outright accuse him of cheating.

Now, at the time it was the furthest thing from his mind, but what truly enraged him was that she wasn't discreet. She didn't gossip about it of course, but she chose to announce this to him at the corner of her common room.

Naturally, it had spread to the whole school by the next day and it got from the odd little tease to almost the way that had been at his time, only this day's reserve saved things a bit. . .

Harry had been surprised Tom hadn't cursed her, and a bit suspicious, but for once his friend was completely innocent of this particular game.

He hadn't been able to get another girlfriend; Minerva's reaction had been typical on the polite side. . .

. . .To this day he could only exchange civil greetings with Amelia without wishing to strangle her. . . that she had been proved right only adding fuel to his fire. . .}

The sharpening of pain to his ribs put an end to this nasty head-trip; Tom was still watching him like a hawk.

“Back to the present, Harry?” he asked, probably more as a way to say he understood where he'd gone. The absence of a pet-name was proof enough of that; he couldn't stand it at the moment.

Harry regarded Tom back, just as intensely, steely eyed.

“I was merely trying to figure out if self-delusions played any part to this particular story, so far I've found none.” His voice betrayed nothing of what he had felt while remembering.

He wondered if Tom was going to answer to the direct challenge he had issued. So far, except his one time offer, he had kept the teasing indirect, no matter how heated.

It was time to turn the tables.

Tom had indicated he expected a demand before. Harry had refrained because of the remains of his Gryffindor values. He couldn't stipulate a price for something he was going to give to safeguard others, it would cheapen it.
For Tom to bring forth that specific point it meant that he wanted 'one specific demand'. But Harry was done holding back, if The Teen Dark Lord was ready to make him relive a humiliation to get something he wanted the least he could do was own up to his game.

Harry held his breath waiting the answer.

He didn't have to wait long.

“Really, Harry, I could have thought of several, Amelia Bones has reddish brown hair and hazel eyes, nowhere near pretty like the picture of your mother's, but more than passable. The fact that she seemed ten times worthier than Ginny Weasley didn't hurt.”

Disappointment welled inside him, together with the first snaps of anger and acute disbelief. Tom was returning to that?

“You dare?”

Tom raised a sardonic eyebrow as if to say stupid question.

“I'm your friend, if I won't say it to you, no one will. I ignored the signs, the first time, because she seemed to be what you needed and had a fraction of your worth. The pattern is more than clear; you are only attracted to people who've held some significance to your past. All your love interests are people who represent one of your 'future' emotional attachments, or people you are emotionally dependant. . . a self made chain to keep you afloat.”

The deadly cut was so clear and precise that for a moment Harry didn't feel the pain. Then it hit, more excruciating than any curse. Rage warred with the pain creating an explosive mix, only the barest stings of will held his magic back, else he was going to curse to kill Tom. . . and Harry didn't want that, even now he didn't really want it.

So he took refuge to his first weapon against Tom, his words. . .

It was Tom's turn to flinch from the look on his face.

“Really Tom, you know so much about these things. The only relationship of that type you can claim is with Herm, who didn't seem very enthusiastic today. What happened? You decided to drive her away too?”

Something like pain reflected into Tom's eyes, as if he didn't expect such a severe reaction. . . Strangely he didn't respond with an immediate hit back like usual, or even denial at what Harry was getting at. . . his reaction was most curious. . .

“No, my relationship with her is not like that.” he said softly.

It was Harry's turn to tilt his head in deep examination. Was it really hesitation that he was hearing in Tom's voice?

“Then how is it? You had told me that you want her, was that a lie, like the usual fare?”

Tom returned the look, seeming to snap a bit from his curious reaction.

“You accepted the term blindly with preconceptions due to the context; you never asked what I wanted her for. . .”

Harry's emotions had moved to the back of his head freeing him, for now, so he could appreciate that particular shift of Tom-logic.

“Do tell,” he asked, only with mild curiosity.

Tom seemed almost unnerved. God what was wrong with the man? He continued to answer though.

“For a career to the ministry, the right wife is almost mandatory. . .” he started.

Harry had to interrupt at that.

“A muggleborn, how stupid do you take me?”

That got a flash of anger and the first calculating look. Tom was merely trying to figure out what was wrong with him. It brought a distant sort of relief; he didn't want to break Tom, not like him.

“Not at all, a pure blood would have been better. . . but I checked myself. The incestuous mutations were too extended even on me, the only chance for me to have a non squib and healthy child is a mudborn mother and I want to continue my line. She has the intellect, drive, passable looks and power levels, even accepts me to a point. Hermione is the best possible compromise.”

Harry dissected this. He couldn't read the smallest hint of falsehood.

“What about Hermione, what is she getting out of this?”

This got the first sigh of relief out of Tom.

“She will get my care, support, comfort, appreciation and a family. I may not love her but I'm not the bastard my father was, I know my duty to my wife. More so, someday she will have her pick to direct anything she wants to our world; she would have got somewhere by herself before that, alone, of course. But being the first magical Lady is not something to spit at and our Hermione is certainly ambitious.”

Harry felt a small pang to his chest for all his numbness. Tom said that this was about logic but it didn't seem like that to him, not completely. . . maybe it could turn into something much more in the future. . .

“I will have to ask her too, to be sure,” he said, at last.

Tom looked openly relieved after this and that, together with the intensified pain to his chest, made Harry ask something he hadn't planned. Too open a weakness. . .

“What about love? You could fall in love too someday, for all you know.”

Their eyes met; there wasn't even the pretext that it was theoretical anymore.

“No, even if I was it wouldn't change anything, you either get over it, they leave you, or, in any case, hold too much power over you. I prefer logic.” Tom's eyes were heavy, yet, they never left his. He meant what he said; even if he wasn't completely sure he had decided his way.

Somewhere inside him Harry understood, he didn't forgive and doubted he ever would, not completely, but he understood enough that there was and a tiny hope for the friendship to survive.

He completely ignored the weakest part of him that was whispering: 'What about me, you made sure that I could never desert you!?'

It didn't matter; Tom may share his feelings, proved by how he'd answered all those questions without a single complaint. But he was a psychopath; emotions didn't reach him most of the time and had made his decision. . .

It had taken immeasurable sacrifices, not only from him, for Tom to not follow the Voldemort path, no matter how much his friend had detested it. . .

. . .To persuade him to change his mind in something so fundamental to him. . .

Harry should spend his whole life running behind him, worse than Lestrange, living every day with such pain and humiliations, for the rare warm look. Because even the friendship wouldn't hold since Tom would want to test it. . .

Harry didn't have the bravery and heart for this. . .

Suddenly he understood why it took him so long to fall for Tom, though the potential was always there. It had nothing to do with sexual orientation, just his instincts recognising at once that should he ever fall for him he would be completely at the other's mercy without anything in return.

It was better that everything ended now.

. . .He was free. . .

Suddenly he felt completely awkward.

“Thanks for telling me all this, Tom.”

Tom shrugged his uninjured shoulder.

“Think nothing of it; you had the right to know.”

Harry looked his friend in the eyes again after this conclusion.

“No, Tom, this is your deepest secrets, not even a close friend has a right to them. . .”

Utter silence.

Harry started shifting minutely until his broken for now body was laid against the bed, instead of facing Tom. He had a long way for his recovery, mental and physical. . .

“Hey, Harry, don't sleep now, we have to decide our next moves against Dumbledore and Grindelwald.” There was actual panic at Tom's voice for all the nonchalance.

Harry found somewhere a small bitter smile, typical. . .

“Hold your horses, too tired, we'll talk later about it, I promise.” he didn't know why he promised, he'd probably keep it too. . .

Thankfully, Tom kept his mouth shut. . . too bloody tired for anything anyway. . .
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The Fate Changed Now What?