Author's note: Cross posted in AO3. The story has underage, dubcon and disturbing themes.

It was as if he was thrown in one nightmare after the other.

The Dursleys were one.

What kind of people were they? He grew up in a cupboard. They forget to feed him, call him derogatory names, lie to him about his parents, lie to him about who he is and still tell him that he should be thankful that they let him live under their roof.

Harry Potter, the boy who lived. That was the title that everyone gave him. He was the savior. The helpless kind of savior that gets locked up by muggles and fed through cat flaps during summers.

He was in his second year now. He was drawing a cat and figures of people with cross marks. He tapped his quill against the paper.

Last year, he faced the Dark Lord who was reduced to a mere parasite feeding off the blood of unicorns attached to his stuttering professor's head. Now he was faced with another mystery.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware!"

Why would anyone write messages like that? What was the point of it?

He saw no other point but to spread paranoia.

The same thing happened years ago, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened or so the rumors say. Why should the same thing happen again? Who was the Heir of Slytherin? There was a belief that the heir was after mudbloods. Slytherin was against having them in the society which created a rift amongst the founders.

Everyone was talking about it. It was unfortunate that he knew parseltongue. Harry pursed his lips in thought. He wasn't the heir for sure.

People were still getting petrified. He wished Hermione would be spared, but more than that, he wished people could just stop staring at him as if he'd send a snake to murder them in their sleep.

He was in the house of the brave but the brave had no loyalty. It was evident by the accusing glances thrown at his way.

It wasn't his fault that he had the ability. He always thought it was something everyone had. He laughed at the inner nagging voice that sounded just like Hermione, "You should have tried to read more… then you wouldn't be in this mess."

On top of that, he was hearing strange voices that no one else could hear.

Harry sighed and looked out of the window, longing to fly just to escape his reality. His quill was scratching into the paper. Jagged lines of frustration. Sometimes he felt that the muggle world was safer. His place was a room with broken toys but he felt sheltered because he only expected pain from his relatives and the bullies. Ever since he stepped foot in the wizarding world, no one ever stopped to think of how dangerous a world it was.

A wand was like a gun.

If you're held at wand point, just one spell and you'd die. It didn't have to be the Avada Kedavra, of which he was famous for. He'd proven that in his first year when he watched a troll's defeat by a simple first year levitation charm. Then, there was this unknown power that resided in him where his mere touch dissolved someone's face.

He wasn't sure what to feel about that but some morbid part of him knew Professor Quirrell was dead because of him.

Magic was thrilling. Magic was dangerous. He was stuck in a castle filled with distrustful children who could easily harm him for suspecting he was "The Next Dark Lord." He wasn't scared but it also made him incredibly frustrated and cautious. At least he had Ron and Hermione. He wished it would always stay that way. Through thick and thin – just the three of them.

He was worried, but so far everything was still normal. Nothing else changed except for warnings that it was not good to walk alone especially at night. The portraits kept watch and the professors told the students not to worry.

Hermione had her hand up in the air. Professor Flitwick called her and she began answering the question Harry was too distracted to pay attention to.

"The basic charm is Protego but there is also the Protego Horriblis, Protego Maxima and Protego Totalum. All of them are shield charms against varying levels and types of spells. The caster must learn…"

He tuned out the explanation and continued scratching on the paper. Ron yawned beside him. He began doodling a snake and a person.

The professors taught them spells – acts of easy violence and in this lesson, ways to protect yourself from it.

He was looking at the window again and that was when he saw a book falling from the sky. His quill snapped. A part of him seemed unable to concentrate on anything except the book. It could have been anyone else's. But somehow… it was calling out to him. It was strange but he always trusted his instincts. It anything, someone might have dropped it. He stood up.

The room went silent as all eyes turned to look at him.

"Mr. Potter, is there a problem?"

"I'm not feeling well Professor Flitwick. May I be excused?"

"I'll come with him." Hermione was up before asking for permission. Harry shook his head.

She looked at him, concerned.

"There's no need Hermione, I'll be fine on my own."

Harry looked for the fallen book and found it in one of the bushes. He dusted it off. Pages were strewn around, as if someone tried to rip it apart. Harry felt it was a horrible thing to do.

He tried to look for a clue of who owned the book. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be an old blank diary. The inside cover had a faint marking of T.M. Riddle.

He slipped it inside his bag and began walking towards the hospital wing.

It didn't take too long and by the time he reached it, he felt the beginnings of a headache.

The white beds looked inviting but he just wanted to be alone.

Madam Pomfrey could be persistent but he was released at the promise that should anything happen, he should come see her.

No one looked for a missing T.M. Riddle diary. Harry kept the it at the bottom of his trunk, unsure what to do with it.

Three days later, he sat on a chair and laid it open on his desk. It was blank and unused. It looked so old. It should be okay to write on it.

All it took was a drop of ink. Then he began scratching at the page… lines, that never really meant anything but to show his hidden frustration and then to his surprise all of his scratches vanished. He counted in his head before writing…

Hello?

The ink vanished. Cursive letters began to appear. The letters looped slowly, and it was mesmerizing to look at. It was as if some invisible hand began writing on it.

Hi. My name is Tom Riddle. Who might you be?

Harry's eyes widened. The question remained on the page unlike his Hello. It was waiting for a reply.

I'm Harry.

The name Tom Riddle sounds familiar, not in the way that it was written on the diary but with the nostalgia that it brought.

He knew the name, just like he knew magic.

Harry says it out loud and tests it on his tongue and his hand wavers on top of the blank page for a while until a spot of ink hits it.

It was a little strange, and he should have listened to his subconscious. There were a lot of things in the wizarding world that he didn't know and a talking diary was one of them. He should probably stop writing and give the diary to Hermione and she'd know what to do about it.

Harry. Is there something wrong?

Nothing.

You just seem familiar

but I barely know you.

So I have nothing to say.

Perhaps it is because you feel the book's magic.

My diary will not respond if it was not

a wizard writing upon it.

I know there is something bothering you.

Would you care to tell me?

Harry pursed his lips. He didn't know why but he felt like throwing caution to the wind.

Okay.

I'm just tired, Tom.

There are essays to finish. Books to read.

Projects.

It was not necessarily a lie, but it was hardly what bothered him.

I assume you are a student.

I was once too.

Are you from Hogwarts?

I am.

Are you?

That should be obvious.

Which house were you in?

Slytherin.

Harry, can you tell me how you found me?

Harry felt the distrust at the mention of the house. He never had pleasant encounters with that house, but Tom hadn't said anything that particularly set him off. Yet.

I saw the book falling outside window while I was in class.

I found it in a bush somewhere...

The pages were ripped but most of the diary was alright.

Someone threw it away.

What kind of diary is this? I've been meaning to ask.

This diary is special.

You could say that I am a memory of a student

preserved in the pages

just like how portraits can move and converse.

As for why my diary has been violated in that manner,

I cannot tell you why,

because I have no recollection of how it happened.

You seem different from the portraits.

You're like

a real person?

I am more than a mere memory.

I simply have more magic imbued in me.

My creator intended me to be as lifelike as the original.

The original?

I think of myself as a copy, Harry.

I do not know if the real me is still alive.

For now, it does not matter.

Your hands are shaking. Are you well?

I…

I've been having headaches lately.

So my hand keeps on trembling.

I drank a potion for it. I'm fine.

You mentioned you were a real person.

Should I look for your other self then?

I think he'd like to have you back.

No one bothered to look for this

but if you tell me more, then I

can help you?

There is no need to trouble yourself.

At the end of the day, I am just

an object that people can write to.

My main purpose is to provide companionship.

Harry watched the words appear. He stared at it for a long time until it vanished. He wasn't sure if he could trust the words that the book was spewing out.

You can think of me as a friend.

I promise not to share your secrets.

All you need to do is keep me with you.

Whatever you write disappears on the pages.

No one will know.

Harry bit his lip. He felt curious and intrigued. He wanted to ask what kind of spell would replicate a person so perfectly that it could hold intelligent conversations.

What does it feel like? To be in a diary I mean… I always wondered

about the people in the portraits. They can talk and see but…

they don't feel genuine.

You're different.

He knew Hermione would be so fascinated to have this in her possession but something told him he had to keep the diary to himself. The reply took longer than it had from the ones before. He wondered if it was intrusive to ask. He began to imagine it, his consciousness imbedded in pieces of paper. It felt horrible to think of.

The portraits are painted and it can be done

by anyone regardless of skill.

The best paintings however, are paintings of

powerful witches or wizards. Once paintings are finished,

one tries to regularly converse

and interact with the painting… to make it act more

human or real as you say.

I am a diary, an experiment… I contain memories.

I have never pondered about

how it is, to be a diary.

I simply existed

but now that you've asked...

It does feel lonely, Harry.

I can show you what it's like.

The book began to shine brightly and it swallowed him whole. It was as if he was descending into an abyss of darkness and he couldn't even dare to breathe because he thought he'd die. It stopped as abruptly as it started and his heart was loud in his ears.

Gold. Brown. White.

A monochrome. It was like looking at a faded photograph only he was inside it. He could not make sense of where he was but then, there was a familiar portrait and a statue of a knight in one corner. He blinked at the empty golden hallways of Hogwarts. It was Hogwarts after all. He tried to inhale but he only continued suffocating. He noticed he was not dying, just that there was no need to breathe. The silence was oppressive. He swayed and tried to make sense of the sudden numbness.

Then, someone called his name.

"Harry."

Looking out of a window, there was a young man.

"Tom?"

Harry walked towards him until he was a mere foot apart. He was a Slytherin student with a prefect badge. His hair was swept to the side with slight curls. His cheekbones were high. He was handsome in the classic sense.

"This is my world. It's a mere replica of Hogwarts. It's all that I have."

Harry felt something in him twist at the idea of being trapped in a world with no one to talk to, with dulled senses. It was maddening. He couldn't begin to form words to ask the question as to why he was there and if he could ever get out.

Harry saw Tom smile at him before a tugging sensation began and he was back on his chair. The diary glowed before him, before snapping shut. His glasses were askew, and a part of him was glad that he could see color, feel the texture of the wood. Everything else was strangely muted in Tom's world.

He was still alive.

The diary was dangerous.

He locked it away.

As more people got petrified, the distrust grew. There was an itch to do something vicious, and he felt horribly snappish at everyone. Just the other day, his accidental magic broke windows when someone kept calling his name and all he wanted was to be alone.

He was sick of people pointing at him.

He found himself writing in the diary more often. He avoided it for as long as he could but eventually curiosity got the better of him. Tom was easy to talk to. It soothed him. Tom was kind, patient, intelligent and understanding. He was in a way, the perfect friend.

He'd been taking more pepper-ups and probably his friends noticed. Hermione got too nosy, telling him it's not healthy. He snapped at her too. Ron chose to run after Hermione. Telling him he was being a git and leaving him alone in the Gryffindor common room. The worst was people had to watch and gossip. He stormed off too, but he had nowhere else to go

Harry found himself opening the diary once more. It was in the privacy of his bed, that he began writing his thoughts. There were many.

Just because I can speak to snakes.

Peeves... the annoying ghost that keeps on pranking people...

he told everyone. Now they think I'm the heir.

I was just talking to Hagrid and when I came back

I saw two more. Justin... and Nearly Headless Nick.

I didn't know it was possible for ghosts to get petrified

But it's not me, Tom.

Today was a mess. Harry wished it was Peeves who got petrified instead of their house ghost and Justin, the same guy he was trying to defend from the snake. It was bad when people were whispering before, but now that Peeves blurted out how he was killing off students, thinking it was fun, it was almost pointless to tell people. The whole of Hufflepuff hated him. He didn't know if there was even a way to redeem himself. It was only because of the professors that they weren't attacking him, saying that there was no proof even if he was once again in the scene of the crime.

I know, Harry. I trust you.

The truth will come out soon.

Just stay out of trouble.

I don't want to deal with it anymore

I know.

Why not just leave?

I… I've never even considered…

leaving.

I also don't know if it's possible…

I mean, there's Hermione.

She's my best friend, and you know…

What if the heir also gets her too?

I don't want that to happen.

I want to be there and I also want to

prove them wrong.

If you're sure, Harry.

I understand you care a great deal about

Hermione… so I will not push you.

There is a place that I'd like to show you.

It's a place that will let you rest.

It's called the Room of Requirement.

If you find your own house too stifling,

It will provide you a temporary home.

Alright.

Thanks.

I really… appreciate your concern.

Someone should be taking care of you.

And that person should be you?

I merely wish to do so.

There is something else concerning.

Tell me, Harry.

I've shown you the truth of what happened years ago,

and yet you still talked to Hagrid?

Harry choked and it took some time before he was calm enough to begin writing. He thought Tom would actually let that small detail go. He could sense a grudge, and wariness. Tom was only looking out for him and has been ever since he met him. He had his reasons though.

I'm sorry Tom...

but Hagrid's a friend.

I believe him when he said it was not him

petrifying the students.

It was true that his pet might have killed someone...

He didn't want to say anything so he told me

to ask Aragog

and follow the spiders.

Don't you think it's weird, Tom?

Spiders can't cause petrification.

I've read about acromantulas.

They can eat people...

Professor Dumbledore said only the darkest of spells

can cause students to be petrified.

I've even asked Hermione to look it up...

I know that acromantulas can't cause petrification.

There are spells, artifacts, and certain creatures that could.

I suggest you drop it, Harry.

There is simply no need.

This is why you're always stuck in the hospital wing.

You chase after danger just because you think

you'll save other people in the process.

It's not healthy.

You need to take care of yourself more.

Don't follow the spiders, Harry. I will be terribly sad

if something happens to you.

I only want to find out the truth, Tom.

I also want it to stop.

I can't stand them looking at me... as if I'm the next Dark Lord

when I'm innocent.

So you think, being an idiot

and doing something that could obviously kill you

is the best way to prove your innocence?

Suppose you take your friends with you,

convince Ron, who hates spiders,

and your precious Hermione into this

merry little adventure.

I want you to picture in your mind…

What if they get eaten alive?

The violent imagery makes him drop the pen. He felt a build-up of frustration and denial.

When have they ever cared about you and what you feel?

Please, stay out of trouble.

No.

There was no reply after that. He took a long time staring at the blank diary. The longer he waited, the more he understood he was just being stubborn. He didn't want to be proven wrong, but he wanted to do something and not just sit still and wait until everything goes wrong.

Soon the guilt won.

Tom.

I swear you worry about me too much.

Fine.

I promise I won't go after the spiders.

Good.

The relief was almost palpable, that Tom was finally talking to him again. Harry just began to realize for the first time that he was actually alone. He'd been pushed in a corner where everyone seemed suspicious because he couldn't trust anyone and they felt the same for him, openly hated him even. None of them actually trusted him. The only ones who did… well, because he was an idiot and a git… he pushed them away.

I see no need for you to play the hero.

They certainly don't seem to care for you.

You're right.

You should rest.

Tomorrow, I'll tell you how to go to the room

I spoke of.

Hey Tom.

I'll share a secret.

I think it's funny that they celebrate my birthday

and the day I defeated Voldemort but

I've never even received a cake

until Hagrid appeared for my Hogwarts letter.

I never knew I was a wizard until he came.

People expect things from me…

but I'm just… I'd like to think I'm normal.

I wish someone can see me and believe me.

People have their prejudices.

The world is unfair. You and I know that.

The public

wants a convenient person to blame.

It's alright though... you do have your friends.

You have me and I believe you.

.

Harry… why are you so secretive

about your muggle family?

You hardly tell me anything about them

and I have avoided talking about them because

it makes you uncomfortable.

From what you've alluded to, they seem

to neglect you, lie to you, hurt you even.

Harry felt the world narrow down to the series of words that appeared on the paper. He should tell Tom to stop, because if he didn't-

If you truly dislike like it there,

why not ask other families

to take custody of you?

You are a Potter.

Potters are linked to various

pureblood families…

They're my closest family.

Professor Dumbledore said they are my only living relatives.

He said I had to go back to them every summer.

It's only a few months.

Sometimes the Weasleys would invite me.

It's not so bad…

It's even safer than Hogwarts.

Do you believe what Dumbledore said?

I see no point in you coming back to them

How can you think that way?

You're lying. Don't lie to me, Harry.

You must tell someone.

I know, but it'd be a scandal if they

found out I grew up in a cupboard.

Don't you think?

His heart was like a drum beat waiting to burst. It was loud in his ears and he could feel it on his throat. Harry didn't want to tell anyone. He didn't want to let anyone know.

Tell me. More.

It was as if something in him choked up and he couldn't write any more. He knew what it was. It was just abuse. He knew his relatives abused him. He was abused because he was different.

It felt different admitting to someone else that something was wrong with him. That he was actually just this weak little boy. A freak.

He was fine.

He believed it enough that everyone believed he was ok.

He pressed a hand to his chest.

The next moment he opened his eyes, he saw the night sky. It was crystal clear. Stars, light blue against indigo. The castle was a mere shadow in the background. The lake was dancing with colors, a perfect mirror of the heavens.

A hand was holding his.

It was strange to see the blues, violets, mixed with familiar gold. Fireflies were dancing around. It was pretty. It was pretty enough that his eyes stung.

"I won't force you to speak. You don't have to tell me anything, Harry. I'm sorry for making you remember."

Harry looked at Tom who had his back to a tree. He was just there as an ever present companion. He only wanted to make him feel better. It was unfair that he could coax out buried parts of him - like the small kid who just wanted acceptance.

Harry started crying. It just felt so unfair. He didn't deserve any of it.

Soon he felt arms wrap around him, and it was warm, safe and comforting.

"It's okay, Harry. You're just a child. You deserve better."

A hand was lazily combing his hair. He closed his eyes.

Harry didn't know how long he cried. He felt so tired and drained but a part of him felt relieved.

He fell asleep clutching the diary to his chest.

Harry noticed there were dark circles under his eyes. His dreams were haunted by faceless people. There were bouts of intense anger.

He'd always wake up so irritable and helpless at the same time. The emotions were alien to him. Hermione still thought he was hiding something. He lost a Quidditch match. His housemates were angry at his abysmal performance.

"Maybe something is wrong with me. I have these dreams. I feel things… they make me so… angry… at everyone. I feel weak. I don't know why. I'm taking dreamless sleep potions… Tom, it won't stop."

"Nothing's wrong Harry. You're perfect. Perhaps you just need to rest your mind. I'll help you." Tom covered his eyes.

Harry let himself be held.

It was easy to escape in a world where there were no responsibilities.

He woke up in an unused classroom in the dungeons. His body felt tired. He began searching haphazardly for his bag, and wondered how he got there. He found his diary and an instant feeling of relief filled him. His hands shook as he wrote.

Soon his feet took him to the room of requirements, and he found himself in a bed, and all he could do was collapse in it as the room spun.

His hands were black with ink, and something else entirely but Harry was too tired to actually see what it was.

"I am real, Harry. Even if I am trapped inside this diary, our interactions can't be fake. I can touch you and you can do the same to me."

"Is there a way for you to leave this place?"

"There is. Will you help me, Harry?"

"Yes."

Time passed by. Even Hermione was petrified. It was his worst fear coming to life.

He had a fever and couldn't summon the energy to leave the bed. He felt useless and horrified because his mind was going overdrive, but knew he was as helpless as everyone. He could only stare at the unmoving bodies that laid on the hospital beds.

There was a pounding headache.

It was just a regular fever and they explained that he might have been using his magic too much. He just had to rest.

But Ron was screaming that his sister had gone missing.

There was a message on the wall about her skeleton lying in the chamber forever.

All Harry could think of was the diary. His bag was gone, and no one understood it when he spoke of the diary. The diary was in his mind. It was missing and it hurt. His consciousness kept fading in and out.

His thoughts were filled of Tom.

He could barely sleep. He asked for dreamless sleep potions but Madam Pomfrey told him he already overdosed.

He kept dreaming of red. Shiny red liquid metallic tasting blood.

He heard the voice. It was incessant.

Rip. Kill. Tear.

There was a flash of gold and red. Red eyes. A familiar smile on the face of his best friend's sister.

"Ginny?"

And then nothing.

Harry.

"Wake up, Harry."

That was his name.

Harry felt Tom close by. He pressed closer. It felt so cold. Tom felt warm. Warmer.

Harry could not see the vicious smile the man wore.

"Tom… please… help me… it hurts."

He was barely standing, if not for the arms that held him and the chest he was pressed up against… Harry looked up and saw red eyes staring back at him.

"Soon, it'll be over, Harry."

"What...are you… talking about? Where are we...?"

He shivered. It was so cold. It was dark, and the pillars were black, gleaming. The floor was wet.

'Where?...'

"T-Tom? This… isn't inside… your diary… why are you… are you real?"

Harry's heart ached. He felt a sudden longing.

Tom clutched him closer. There was a kiss pressed to his temple.

"I merely granted you a wish, little one. You cared for me so much you wished I was real."

A wave of dizziness assaulted Harry and his knees buckled. With horrified eyes, he turned to look at a body that lay beside them. It was Ginny. She was pale as a ghost, and she wasn't breathing.

"She's dead. She was bothersome. She could not stop speaking about you. She idolized you, loved you. You were all she ever talked about."

"Why… how…?"

"I killed her, Harry."

Harry felt as if someone began strangling him. His throat began to hurt at the beginning of tears.

"You're lying. Please tell me you're lying Tom?"

There was a hand combing through his hair.

"I am fond of you. You are precious to me. If only your existence wasn't so dangerous."

Tom smiled. Harry's eyes were so wide and the red on his cheeks were red from the fever and more. He felt as if he couldn't breathe.

He trusted Tom. It hurt like something was gnawing at his heart. He couldn't breathe. His chest was heaving and he was so angry and shocked.

"I should kill you."

"No... stop it…"

Harry whimpered, he pushed himself away and began crawling towards the dead body. He shook her.

"I told you she's dead. There is nothing you can do."

Tom merely blasted her away, her dead body landing against the wall like some ragdoll. She hardly moved, her face lolling like a puppet without strings. Her face was far too pale and her lips were blue. Harry reached for his wand, "Don't… Don't come near me."

"Will you hurt me, Harry? Do you have it in you to even cast a spell?"

Harry tried to say the words but none of them came up.

"Come on, Harry. Not even one spell? I'm disappointed."

Harry mustered the will to move. He managed to stand up, but his knees couldn't handle the strain. The world was spinning. He was falling towards the floor. He could see a mesh of colors and pain as his back hit the floor. A groan left his mouth and he tried to get up but Tom sat on his knees, held his wrists down, plucked away the wand easily.

Tom traced his jaw and Harry had to control the tears. Then, there was a finger parting the hair on his forehead. A finger tracing the scar until it bled red. Harry gasped at the pain and tried to prevent himself from screaming.

"You must know who I am now. But I'll spell my name for you."

He wrote in the air, and Harry thought he could move his hands but they were frozen in place.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Harry couldn't breathe. He struggled so hard. He called out to his magic… anything.

"I deceived you, so you could pour your heart out to me, just like I did with this girl. She was hopelessly enamored with you. I'm sure Ron will be sad when he finds out his sister died and you were helpless to stop it."

At the thought of his friends he felt tears finally come.

"Don't worry, Harry. Her death was painless. It gave me this body."

Tom opened his arms in wonder.

"I can feel now. I can touch you. I have been obsessed with you since the moment I've learned of your existence. How could a baby ever defeat the greatest Dark Lord in existence? I wanted to know. I wanted to meet you. I had to convince her. Ginny didn't want to part with me, so I forced her to and a part of my magic sought you out and you came to me."

Tom leaned closer, lips close to his ear.

"Who would have known the boy who lived was a poor abused orphan child? It was not difficult to pick you apart when you were already broken. It was easy to tell you, you'll be alright. I merely told you used the words you've longed to hear. You wanted someone to accept you. I was all you ever needed."

"I trusted you… I trusted you Tom…"

"And I never lied to you Harry. I merely omitted facts that you were better off not knowing."

Harry closed his eyes, but opened them when he felt a something sharp cut his neck. The cut ran a jagged line down his collar to his chest. His robes were ruined, and he was steadily losing blood.

Tom tore through his clothes, until the expanse of his chest was seen. "I'm carving my mark on your skin, Harry. I have never done that for any of my followers, thus you should be honored. What better way to tell them it was me who violated their precious savior than the dark mark?"

Harry's toes curled at the pain. His fingers were clenching for air, something to hold on to, as Tom began to draw the lines. He lost consciousness only to be woken up by the Rennervate spell.

"Exquisite…"

Harry was too weak to do anything but listen to him at this point.

"I wished to study you. What part of you makes my other self, unable to even touch you? You said it was love… but no… I'm almost sure, it is your blood."

"Please, just… kill me, Tom…"

"There is no joy in simply killing. I want to relish your defeat. You are beneath me… I want you to know that. I want you to acknowledge it."

Tom looked so angry. Harry couldn't help the pained whimper when fingers dug into the wound. Tom began licking his fingers.

Then, Harry felt fingers on his lips. It was all the warning he had until he felt lips against his. Harry kept his mouth shut but a tongue was forced in. "No… ngh" He didn't want it.

"No… No more. Please…"

Tom looked at him fondly and began stroking his face as if he was precious.

Harry could feel his consciousness waning.

"Crucio." It was a whisper, and Harry was writhing on the floor, screaming his lungs out. It felt like he was being stabbed multiple times. And yet he couldn't move. There was no respite. He screamed until his throat was raw. Tom looked at euphoric.

"Why won't you be a good boy, Harry? I've given you what you wanted. Are you not happy to be with me?"

Harry felt fingers dig into his scalp. The curse relented, and there was a whisper on his lips, "please… kill… me"

"Not yet. You have to show me all I need to know. Legilimens."

Harry whimpered as Tom rifled through his mind. His head was going to split apart. Memories were being violated. His inner most secrets were being exposed one by one until nothing of him his was private anymore.

His whole life passed by him. Tom froze when he finally found the memories of Harry's thoughts of him. The unbearable thoughts that haunted him.

Harry wanted to die.

Memories of the golden world, how slowly, he was beginning to feel at ease. That maybe, living in the wizarding world wasn't too bad. He could have a friend like Tom. Tom listened to his every whim, provided him comfort and never judged him for anything he did. He was always there. A friend, a confidant. He kept him close. "Stop… don't look." He cherished the friendship they had. He looked up to Tom. He was willing to help him, even at the cost of his life. He wished he was real. He wished he could tell him. He was desperate. He loved –

"No. No… No…"

Loved.

He was loved.

He loved Tom Riddle.

Harry looked broken.

Tom began casting a spell. When it was finished, a violet ring began wrapping around him. Just in time, Harry saw a large blurry visage of a snake, coming close to where Ginny's body lay, opening its wide mouth…

"Somnum Sempiternum."

Harry suddenly felt very, sleepy. His eyes closed off on its own accord.

"I'll come back for you. You truly are precious."

He woke up staring up at an unfamiliar white ceiling. Memories were fresh in his head. He felt dirty. He should be dead. Hermione launched herself at him. Harry felt numb, but a tear was falling down and another.

His bed table was littered with gifts, but it felt horrible to see the well wishes. There was a mountain of them. It was entirely just like first year, but this was just too much. He wanted to die. He felt numb.

Albus Dumbledore appeared, pushing past the white curtain, and slowly, he saw a bunch of people. Dumbledore took a seat at his right. Harry looked up at him, feeling all of a sudden too small.

"My dear boy, I hope you feel alright."

Harry tried to stop the tears, and he raised a trembling hand to wipe them.

There were a lot of adults – one was Lucius Malfoy who began to speak, "You are currently in St. Mungos in one of its more private specialized care units. It has taken several weeks for us to break the curse placed on you. You are the only survivor from the Chamber of Secrets incident. We have waited too long to delay this any further so if you give your consent, we will begin the interrogation. We simply wish to know if Hogwarts is still safe to operate or if it should be closed."

"I'll drink the potion."

His throat felt scratchy, and it hurt to use it.

Harry's hands trembled. They maneuvered his bed into an incline so he was sitting up and facing everyone directly.

"Won't you let him rest? Harry just woke up!... He has to know about his family… he has to- mphhh" Hermione suddenly found a hand on her mouth and Ron dragged her away.

"My family?"

Harry felt his scar prickle.

"The matter about your family will be sorted after we finish the inquiry."

"I want to know too. How did my sister die, Harry?"

Ron looked haunted, as if he barely had any sleep. Hermione looked as if she was dying to say something.

"Headmaster, the Minster has arrived. We will begin warding the room." Seats were spread out in the room, and there was a good 30 people, most of them strangers he hardly knew. They began sitting down.

"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, would you care to step out? Once they have finished interrogating Mr. Potter, we will let you know everything pertinent to your sister's death."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to ignore the resulting shouting.

His head was tilted backwards, and the potion was administered. He was given a glass of water to help with his parched throat.

"What is your full name?"

"Harry James Potter."

The questions were easy at first, things about himself, his birthday, his house – all to keep him calm and verify his identity.

"How did Ginny Weasley die?"

"She was murdered."

"By who?"

"Lord Voldemort."

There were gasps of surprise and outrage.

"We believe you have vanquished the Dark Lord when you were a baby. Is this not the case? Can you tell us how she was murdered in detail? What caused her death?"

Harry felt pain at the rush of questions.

"I don't know what happened when I was a baby. Last year he appeared as a wraith. He attached himself at the back of Professor Quirrel's head. This time, he came out of a Diary. He befriended me and Ginny. We wrote on his diary and while we did, he grew stronger. By the time I saw her, she was dead. There was a large snake about to swallow her whole."

There was silence.

"The Dark Lord came out of the diary? What diary are you speaking of?"

"It was on old diary with a black leather cover. It belongs to the Dark Lord. His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. He rearranged the words to spell I am Lord Voldemort. He told me he is a memory of his younger self."

"You had no part in Ginny Weasley's Death?"

"No."

"How did you find the Chamber?"

"I woke up there."

"What did Tom Riddle do to you in the Chamber?"

"He…"

Flashes of the kiss, the dark mark carved on his chest, the cruciatus, the rape of his mind, the promise. Harry struggled for words to describe it, but the words are rushing out of his mouth anyway.

"-tortured me. I was dying… just like Ginny. He carved the d-dark mark… on my chest and put me under cruciatus… He ki– "

"Enough."

.

"Perhaps this is sufficient proof that the boy is innocent. I propose that we convene tomorrow regarding the safety of Hogwarts." It was Lucius Malfoy who spoke. "The boy needs rest."

Professor McGonnagal sat beside him, looking entirely uncomfortable, "About your family… Your aunt and uncle are missing. Your cousin is being treated as we speak. He is suffering from over exposure to the Cruciatus curse. The Weasleys have agreed to take custody of you while a custody battle goes on. Albus Dumbledore resigned from being your magical guardian because of… certain details that have been revealed. Harry… why haven't you told anyone that your relatives abused you?"

And that was what led him to brood over the summer and onwards. He could not trust his friends or the adults that surrounded him and comforted him. He did not want to trust anyone because he knew how hard it is to have this trust to be betrayed.

The promise haunted him. They tried to shield him from it because of all that just happened but he knew that the wizarding world was on the verge of preparing for war. It hurt that he still yearned for Tom, but some larger part of him wished he died that night.

"Harry, dear. You have to eat something. You're all skin and bones." Mrs. Weasley came over to him and attempted to convince him to leave the room

"Mrs. Weasley… I'm not hungry… I'll come down later when I do need food. Tell Ron and the others not to worry about me… please. It's… I know it must be terribly rude of me, but I don't want… talk to people. I have a lot in my mind." Harry tried to look as small as possible and Mrs. Weasley nodded to herself even when she seemed against the idea of Harry isolating himself from other people.

It was a pain, trying to pretend everything was alright when in the background, he knew pureblood families were spending fortunes just to acquire him. His aunt and uncle had been kidnapped. Albus was slandered in the papers. His home life was exposed to the public. It didn't help that another mass-murderer was out for his blood. Sirius Black.

It was all falling apart.

The whole wizarding world thought he was a victim. A helpless child. They walked on eggshells around him. That he was some poor broken boy.

And perhaps he was.

It was in a dream that he saw him again. Tom Riddle, who was talking to a blurred form. A large serpent was on the floor.

"Then it must be done. You were reckless, I have no doubt the order knows now, what you are."

The other voice chilled his spine.

"You are pitiful. You will not be where you are now had it not been for me. The ritual is almost done… but it seems we have an uninvited guest."

Then their eyes met.

And suddenly pain.

Harry couldn't breathe. He gasped for air but none would come. His eyes were tearing up and wordlessly forming words he couldn't even voice out.

"Harry… I'm coming for you… don't worry… soon you'll be with us, where you belong..."

Every night was plagued by visions and nightmares.

Through the dreams, he noticed, Tom Riddle began to change. He grew paler. His eyes were blood red. He felt monstrous.

But he apologized. He made up excuses. Harry told himself he would not fall for the same lies again. Just like now, when there was only darkness around him, and Tom was there, a speck of white who kept trying to come closer, and Harry only wanted to run away.

"It was necessary to make them believe I wanted to kill you. I know what you are. You belong to me."

"No, you're lying."

"It was the only way to make sure you lived, Harry. I could not stop the curse from progressing so I cursed you to sleep. I never wanted to kill you. Believe me, Harry."

"Stop telling me lies, Tom. You never cared. You used me! You killed Ginny! I'll never forgive you."

"Harry, don't make an enemy out of me."

Tom promised him he cared, that he'd fix things. He was so tired. He wanted to shut him up. He could never allow himself to trust Tom again. Never.

Harry found himself visiting the grave of Ginny Weasley. He traced the headstone and wondered how a child younger than him felt.

"Tom was perfect wasn't he? He was like the friend you needed. He could just carry him around and… for a time I thought he cared. I wonder… how you felt Ginny? I'm sorry… I couldn't save you… Ron misses you."

He laid the flowers on her grave.

He would be back in Hogwarts in three days. He had to be strong enough… for her as well.

There was blood on the floor. He'd been too afraid to look at the bodies so he averted his eyes towards the Dark Lord.

"What do… you want from me…? Why do you keep sending me these dreams… I don't know what you want… please stop… Tom."

Harry whimpered as he curled into a ball while the Dark Lord watched him. He began stepping closer and closer until he was sitting on the bed.

"I want everything, Harry. I will have you, you pretty little thing… my precious soul."

"Isn't it enough that you ruined my life? What more do you want? That I kill myself? Maybe I should, since maybe then you'd stop haunting me."

Harry closed his eyes.

"I'm only doing what's necessary. I've taken you away from the Dursleys. I've exposed the lies that surrounded you. I'm the only one who cares. Even if you die, there are ways to keep you with me, there is no escape, Harry."

Harry felt the tears start as the Dark Lord cooed. Closer the man went until he was at the foot of the bed. "We have long divined what you are. You are ours. Irrevocably ours."

Harry shook his head.

"I'm not yours…"

And in a flash Tom was before him. And pain surged.

"Don't deny me."

"You're mine. You have my soul in you… you belong to me. Your scar. Your ability to speak parseltongue. This came from me. This connection we have cannot be unmade… You cannot deny it."

Harry trembled at the horror because what if it was true and not some lie. He tried to read about curses that made nightmares appear but nothing was as forthcoming. Nightmares were rarely as vivid as what he had… what if these carefully constructed nightmares were being fed to his consciousness directly because he had the Dark Lord's soul?

"Harry, I want to take care of you. Only I know you… and I'll have you. Just give in little one. There is no point in fighting me."

Harry looked up at him, taking the chance to look at the angelic monster who deceived him. He took in how perfect he was and remembered how easy it was to just take comfort in his words. What if Tom meant it.

"Why not be a little selfish, Harry? I'm here for you…"

Harry couldn't fight him. It was just like that night in the chamber, only this time, Tom was unbearably gentle.

He sat so still when Tom wrapped his arms around him.

He felt complete.

Guilt was eating at his conscience.

"Leave me alone… please… it hurts…"

"It doesn't have to…"

He was falling apart.

Harry felt severely traumatized by the nightmares and his friends noticed. He took dreamless sleep potions and slowly got addicted to it.

Even Draco Malfoy noticed something was wrong with him when he could not respond to the barbs.

It escalated when the visions violated him even during his waking moments.

Harry stared at Snape, the man who continued to torment him. Out of nowhere, Tom was holding him. Kissing his forehead. Kissing his lips.

Hungry.

"Stop hiding from me. You're mine… only mine… remember that. Everyone will know it."

Then Tom started choking him.

"…but you continue to deny me. I want you. You should give in to my desires my pet. I will have you in every way I can have you…"

Hand shaped bruises appeared on his neck and Harry whispered a plea for help then fainted on the spot.

The dark mark burned.

"Bring Potter to the infirmary now."

"I can't… do this anymore.. He's everywhere… I can't… I need to keep him out of my head.. Please professor Dumbledore."

He was deemed alright by the mediwizards. Nothing was wrong but there were bruises on his body. He was fainting for no reason in his classes.

"You have to believe me! He's inside my head."

"Stop, my dear boy. It's not safe to speak those words out loud. Continue taking the potions."

"Why is it not safe? I'm going mad."

"Precisely why. You must not be taken in their custody. I am trying my best to prevent that. You have to remain in Hogwarts… nowhere else is safe. Drink this."

Harry laughed to himself.

He scratched at the scar on his neck. It was almost gone but whenever he stared at the mirror, he saw the ugly dark mark.

Was it because he still hated Tom? Because he wouldn't say he was his?

But he was his own person.

Dumbledore abandoned him again. He read all those articles, how it was Albus Dumbledore who left him in the care of his abusive relatives. He was some meddling old man who had access to his vaults and kept him from being given to proper family. Albus was the reason for his pain.

Tom hurt him more though. In ways his relatives never were able to. He opened his heart to the wrong person.

It hurt.

"Harry… Harry, are you coming?"

Harry looked out at the window. The castle had many windows, but they were barred by invisible spells preventing people from jumping out of them. He once tried to so he knows.

Harry found himself chained in a white room, while the Dark Lord watched him from afar.

He felt fear and resignation.

"Why are you hurting me so much, Tom…?"

"Why do you keep running back to the headmaster, Harry? You have me... and yet you run to him every time."

The chain's pulled him higher. He had to stand on tip toes.

"This is your punishment."

He screamed as pain assaulted him. Chains pulled him higher. His feet were dangling in the air.

The Dark Lord pressed his lips.

"I will violate you, I'll stain that purity of yours. Every part of you is mine. Your body is mine. Your mind, your soul… everything you are. They all belong to me."

"Please stop… please Tom… please… someone… help."

The Dark Lord wrapped his white hands around the boy's throat. Constricting.

"No one will save you Harry. I am all that you have. I am all that you will know. Give in to me."

Harry thought then, why he fought so hard… Nobody bothered protecting him. He thought of Ginny. He thought of Ron… "Harry, stop fighting me. You love me… don't you love me?"

Love. 'I love you.'

It hurt, to be reminded of his feelings. He felt torn. He tried so hard to justify it in himself that whatever feelings he had were products of his deluded mind. How could he continue to have feelings for him?

"I do…"

Harry was terribly exhausted.

He slumped against the chains. And tears were running down his eyes.

"So exquisite."

A kiss to the side of his neck.

"I will not let you go. Never."

Harry shook his head and but didn't move away.

"Stop resisting. Just look at me. Love me."

He felt a sudden pain and Tom combed his hair when he let out a small whimper.

"I'll take care of you. You'll have me… and I will be your world, Harry. Everything will be alright."

Harry wanted to scream. He could only cry. He shook his head. He wanted nothing of it. He wanted to be safe… warm and away from the monster.

"I'll have to force you then… so be it. You will break so prettily."

"You don't need any of your friends. I will start with them. I still wonder, now that I am promising you eternity… why are you denying me?… It hurts Harry."

It was a lie. It had to be a lie.

He was already delirious.

"Talk to me… speak the truth. I never lied to you, Harry. There is no need to… but you are being difficult. Should I really use your friends against you? The people you care about? You care about what they think too much. It will be easy enough to hurt them. I can kill their family first, that way they won't have to die, but they'll be sad. Hermione's parents are dentists aren't they? Ron's father works in the ministry?"

Harry gave in at the threat.

"Please… don't hurt them, Tom. I can't trust… you… but I do… please… stop Tom… I'm going mad… please… I'm sorry."

The chains broke.

Harry found himself being cradled in an embrace. Pressing closer. Feeling the guilt eat at him for taking comfort in the murderer of his parents and Ginny.

His mind was splintering as memories of comfort resurfaced. Alien feelings of love and devotion. Harry felt something in him start to break.

"Tom?"

"Yes… Harry?"

"I… miss you."

Harry looked up at him. Mind trapped in the neediness of a child as something snapped inside of him and he caved in to the desire to be comforted.

The boy's eyes were glazed.

Tom smiled back. Red eyes hungry eyes at the taste of victory.

The boy was his.

He would remember all this in the morning.

Harry did and threw up. He looked at his body. It was filled with lines and bruises.

He felt so small. And scared. Scared or what was going to happen.

Scared of himself.

He found himself in the potion master's quarters. Harry could barely speak.

He just needed help.

'Help me. Merlin help me. Please.'

The man knew but only offered healing potions for the bruises and cuts.

"The Dark Lord has his eyes are on you. He is cruel. Death would be so much easier."

It was later that he found out that Severus Snape was a Death Eater.

They found Sirius Black, and Harry could watch with no amount of pity or sadness as the man raved he was innocent and that he never intended for it to happen. Then he was kissed.

Ron's father came home suffering from being bitten by a snake. He collapsed in the open, and was rushed to St. Mungos but managed to survive.

The threat was real.

Harry felt betrayed as he tried to climb the astronomy tower. It was only a jump away and he could fall to his death.

And yet he felt so scared.

His feet inched out of the ledge... He already managed to go past the railings, and there was no spell preventing him from jumping down. He was looking down wondering how many broken bones he'd suffer and if he'd actually die from that height.

He heard the Dark Lord's voice in his head.

"My precious treasure. Go back inside the castle. Be patient and wait for me."

Harry obeyed the order. He was almost resigned to his fate. The thirteen year old wandered the halls and stared at the faces of people and the splendor of the place he called home.

The next day started fine.

That was until professors started choking and collapsing on the table.

The doors to the great hall opened.

"Children, do not fight us. We don't want to spill any more magical blood. I only wish to have your cooperation. Surrender to me, and you will be spared."

Harry froze from his seat. It was his voice.

Albus Dumbledore who was left standing, quickly cast a large shield spell. Several explosions were heard and the wards of the castle groaned as the headmaster began dismantling them.

"I have not done a good job protecting you. I am taking down the anti-apparition wards. There are emergency portkeys that should take you to your families. It is your school badge. Tap it thrice and say Hogwarts. If you value your lives, I suggest you run. Leave Britain."

It was then that students from different houses began standing and pulling out white masks. Their wands aimed at the headmaster and some at their fellow students. The curses began.

The headmaster couldn't even dodge. Students touched their badges and started shouting in frustration but the wards haven't gone down but there were students blasting apart the walls.

They were all screaming.

Harry trembled. He only had eyes for Tom Riddle who was smiling at the chaos.

"Harry let's go! We can't stay here. The walls have been blasted down."

"Go Hermione. There's no point in me running. He'll always find me."

They were heavily outnumbered.

When the wards broke, several people appeared, while some students attempted to portkey away. People were already being killed left and right.

It was utter chaos.

Harry swayed on his feet. He couldn't move. Hermione was tugging at his hand but he couldn't move. This was his nightmare. He was supposed to wake up from this sometime soon.

Hermione ran away, and left behind, Harry tried to do the same but everywhere he looked, there was a mass of black robed figures with masks.

His head hurt.

His vision blurred. Harry clutched at his scar. It began to bleed profusely.

Tom had a smile on his face "I'm here now. I've finally come to take you away."

The warm arms surrounded him and a hand reached out to brush away his tears. The Dark Lord kissed his forehead like before.

The Dark Lord whispered something and he felt his vision wane.

Harry felt his eyes roll back when the curse muted everything and the world was a mesh of colors.

Waking up for Harry was a terrible affair. He was horribly disoriented and weak. When he finally did wake up – things came rushing to him, and he was in an unfamiliar room. His wrists were held together and shackled to the center of the headboard where a snake bit into the chain. It was loose enough that he could attempt to sit up but he barely had the energy to move around.

His face was flushed from exertion in just attempting to move. He felt like his body ran a hundred marathons – never stopping for rest. He almost passed out from the dizziness and that was when he noticed the door opened to admit Tom.

"Harry." The boy inched closer to the head board. The man sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the boy's hair aside. Harry whimpered upon contact. "Why." The whisper was there. Harry stared at him and the Dark Lord didn't hesitate. He took the child in his arms and soon enough – the boy was sobbing in his arms. "I hate… you… I… I really hate you…"

"Harry… shh. You're safe now… just. Rest. You'll need it."

"I don't want to. Don't make me…"

But his eyes were already closing and the Dark Lord was parting his hair, staring at his scar.

Harry shook his head and mumbled a weak no – but the curse held the boy in its mercy. Harry's cries eventually stilled – and the boy fell against him. The Dark Lord laid him back on the bed and kissed the child's forehead. His horcrux was so weak – and innocent. He had no intention of ever letting the boy out from the cage he built. The child belonged to him and him alone. Even if harry broke, if he wasn't already broken – he would stay there – by his side.

The shackles on his wrist turned the surrounding skin dark violet from the bruises from trying to remove them.

He'd been treated well enough but his freedom was taken away. The nightmares have stopped but every waking moment was one.

The days were lonely and he was scared that his friends were stuck surviving or dead. Thinking was painful.

Voldemort delivered a gift to him, the tortured remains of his relatives.

He was a monster.

He was one.

But was he one as well, for thinking the gift was sweet?

Harry didn't know why the Dark Lord spared him. He was kept in a white room, asleep for most days and fed with potions that kept him well.

The Dark Lord would recount stories of the outside world as he was held. Embraced. Treasured.

At first, Harry didn't want it. He wanted none of it. He physically recoiled from Tom's touches but it was the most that he could do.

At times, he was left alone.

With no one to talk to, he stared at the walls. He was chained to the bed. He had to call the house elves if he wanted to use the loo or bathe.

It was humiliating.

It was like being treated like a pet in a cage.

Tom took care to feed him personally and in his more forgiving days, the man would let him sleep until he came back.

He felt like he was going crazy though.

Crazy enough to want to kill himself.

"You will be punished. And if you know what's good for you, you will behave, Harry. Perhaps you will learn from this."

Harry found himself hanging in the Dark Lords garden while dementors flocked about.

It was torturous. Happy memories disappeared. He remembered the nightmares. The way his friends tried to save him from himself. The attack of Hogwarts.

The Dark Lord made him watch memories of how all he held dear was killed. Tortured.

And after every single day, the man made him call him master.

If not, he was tortured. The nerves on his fingers were singed.

They threatened to make sure he would lose the ability to ever hold anything, cut the tendons of his feet and made him unable to walk. He could only crawl.

A week of this treatment and a week of isolation.

He said sorry a thousand times. The Dark Lord didn't believe him.

Eventually, he was healed, and let out. He felt unhinged. Broken.

Harry couldn't stop the tremors that shook him up. The Dark Lord was petting him while attending the Death Eater meeting.

He felt tears come and tried to will them away.

He hid himself in the Dark Lords arms and couldn't stop the shaking as he sobbed silently.

He felt so small.

And the Dark Lord was impossibly monstrous.

The Dark Lord let him, and when he was done, Voldemort casually cleaned his robes.

The thirteen year old felt exhausted.

"Harry."

Harry looked up at the Dark Lord, the older man's face was cold, and unforgiving. He felt all the more frightened of him.

"Go back to my chambers and wait for me."

Harry removed himself from the Dark Lord's lap. He lowered his eyes and silently murmured. "Yes master."

Harry felt tired.

He weakly crossed the hallways towards the Dark Lords room and found the bed.

He reached it, and curled up on the bed, clutching a pillow. The covers were pulled to his chin.

Then he waited.

He waited until his eyes were starting to close.

Tom was always silent, but Harry could feel him. He was always ever present in his head.

His dark robes were discarded and he began changing into a lighter wear.

The Dark Lord took in the sight of his horcrux. He was struggling to stay awake despite the exhaustion.

The feel of his horcrux was exquisite. The boy fit in his arms like a slot in the puzzle.

Perfect.

"Do you love me, Harry?"

"Yes, master."

Harry's green eyes were looking at him. It was shining like the prettiest of gems.

"Don't ever do it again. I will not be so forgiving."

He relished the fear.

The resignation.

The unbidden want to be comforted.

The Dark Lord smiled when his pet unconsciously pressed closer.

Closer until he had him in his arms.

The child fell asleep like that, a picture of innocence.

Freedom came with a price.

When Harry woke up, it was to see the sight of red eyes staring at him, and the Dark Lord pressed his mouth to him, wordlessly seeking entrance.

He kept it shut, but when a hand began to dissolve his clothes until he was all but naked, he was surprised, and so the tongue came in.

Harry struggled, but the pain in his scar told him who this was and what was at stake.

He let himself be kissed.

He found himself crying when the Dark Lord began to touch him and when he came and the Dark Lord began licking his hand, Harry felt dirty. And used.

Harry stayed in bed, sticky. It wasn't until the food came that he left it and bathed.

He wore a light robe that did nothing to cover his nakedness.

He sat on the balcony, reading a book the Dark Lord left for him.

Harry sobbed.

He felt dirty... and alone... terrified of what was to come.

Harry wished for better times.

He felt him then.

The Dark Lord took one look at him and motioned for him to come.

They took a bath together.

Harry sat in between the man's legs. Harry's heart was at his throat and he could hardly breathe.

"I will use you. Tonight. I'll take care of you Harry. I'll make you feel good."

The Dark Lord left the ravaged child on the bed. He sipped on wine as he watched the boy fall apart.

His little pet was curled up and in pain.

He murmured a spell that should prevent the child from harming himself and instructed the house elves to care for him.

When he came back three days after, the child was a sight, wearing white and laying on the small bed near the balcony.

Bruises lined his collar and arms but he was glowing in the sunlight. Nagini was wrapped around his legs and was conversing with him.

The sight of his two horcruxes together was pleasing.

He glided towards the room and Harry flinched.

His precious pet tried not to scoot away from him as he hooked his arms and began to carry the child back into the rooms and on the bed.

"Strip for me."

Harry did it slowly, untying the small sash in the middle.

When the thirteen year old was bare, he began to touch the bruises. Healing them.

"Thank you, master."

The Dark Lord smiled at this.

"Turn around."

He griped the boy's wrist and began kissing it.

He kissed his navel, earning small whimpers.

Voldemort took the child in his mouth and began sucking. Harry responded and was moaning and panting. It wasn't long until he swallowed the seed.

The boy looked up at him, with lidded eyes and he had to swallow his lust as he willed the boy to sleep.

The savior of the light was broken. He hardly needed to push.

How could Albus have left his weapon so weak and defenseless?

The child was sleeping beside him, unconsciously yearning for his touch.

The child was desperate for affection. The Dark Lord didn't love him… but he felt desire raging in his loins. He wanted to possess him.

Until all thoughts of him remained.

Break him apart. Until all he could rely on was him.

Tom reveled in his obsession.

The panic attacks came and went. It twisted his insides and he'd collapse in his room unable to breathe. He was going mad. He tried to keep his master happy. He learned nothing would go wrong and Tom would smile and comfort him. And Harry would feel loved... And love him. He had to be good.

He woke up crying.

He stared at the mirror atop his master's chambers and tried not to think of other ways he could die.

Draco never thought the Potter heir was beautiful but he certainly did now. He was tasked to become Harry Potter's chosen companion. To teach him the true ways of the wizarding world. To protect him and serve him as he served the Dark Lord.

He was being groomed to become the Dark Lord's consort, not that Harry needed to know.

The Dark Lord liked the dress the boy in almost effeminate clothing.

Harry had a new suite done in cream white and gold. And on the bed, he looked so peaceful wearing a simple silk white robe. On the boy's hair were golden vines and dotting his arm were golden scales.

Soft curled hair framed the boy's face whose cheeks were slightly pink and whose lips were pale red.

Sleeping, he looked defenseless except for the snake who curled around his small body.

There were rumors that the Dark Lord is fucking his old classmate but… the bite marks on his neck and wrists looked so horrid to the innocence that Harry painted.

The boy soon woke up and Draco felt petrified when he heard the boy hiss to the snake as he helplessly tried to breathe.

He'd never seen anyone look so broken and sad.

It was then that the green eyed boy looked up and saw him. Harry covered his face.

"Draco. Leave? I'll come find you… when I've composed… myself."

Draco sat in the sitting room for a few minutes with the mute human servants.

And then, as if heeding his thoughts, the Dark Lord arrived through the fireplace, and he was ignored for the large double doors that held a crying Harry.

Harry could barely sleep.

He couldn't touch his food. He couldn't summon the energy to leave the bed.

He was so tired.

He called out to him.

"Tom… where are you…? Please come back..."

Draco came here and there, but he had no one else. He didn't need Draco as much as he needed Tom.

He refused to call for him. The owl was just waiting there. He didn't even need an owl, because his master taught him how to use their connection once.

It made him miserable. He wasn't that helpless. He wasn't that broken that he'd call out for him just because he was lonely.

He told himself the same thing, over and over again.

But nothing worked and he was…

Simply exhausted. Yes. He was exhausted. There was no other reason for the burning pain in his chest. The tears that wouldn't stop.

It was days later that, he saw the man arrive. Harry suddenly felt the need to run to him and so he did.

He felt dizzy. He wrapped his arms around Tom and felt comfort he hadn't felt for days.

"All you had to do was call me, Harry. I would have come for you."

Harry nodded trying not to cry.

The Dark Lord carried him to bed and gave him a critical stare.

"You have a fever. You haven't been eating."

Harry opened his mouth to speak and it came out so quietly, "I missed you."

Tom looked at the boy and sighed. "If you don't take care of yourself. I will have to punish you."

Harry visibly shuddered.

"I'm sorry."

Harry looked up at Tom, who took his hands and kissed it.

"I forgive you."

Harry felt his heart tighten. And a part of him knew there was no return. He was tortured. Manipulated. His friends were killed. He was a prisoner. He tried to remind himself.

But… he tried to reign in the feelings of affection.

Tom leaned in, and kissed his forehead, then, looking at him intently as if asking for permission, he kissed him on the lips.

"I'll call for the healers."

Then he was gone.

Harry felt horrible.

He was clutching a pillow to his chest and trying not to give in.

The Dark Lord arrived once more and sat by his bedside.

"Harry. I'm not leaving. I'll stay here until you get better."

Harry said, "Then I don't want to get better."

The Dark Lord smiled.

"You'll have to. For me."

He was horribly.

In love.

It wouldn't go away.

Tom did his part in taking care of him. He kept his promises.

He murdered all his friends, and anyone who ever got close.

"Stay… you don't need to go… please stay with me? Please?"

"Of course, Harry."

But promises were meant to be broken and the truths were just half-truths.

Voldemort just wanted to keep his horcrux safe.

It wasn't even a surprise when he found out about the many affairs. He was not the only one.

But Harry was precious. He was beloved. He was adored. He was the consort. He was just a boy Lord Voldemort wanted to make an example of.

He was a trophy. He was nothing but that. A fucking trophy that he wanted to show around. He didn't care about him.

Tom never cared. Tom couldn't love no matter how much he pretended he did.

So what's the point?

Decades passed.

.

.

.

Whatever innocence in him slowly grew tainted until perhaps nothing was left.

It was the only way to survive. Tom played with his heart until it splintered and gave way.

There was some vindictive part of him who grew to hate the unfair world. He was livid with madness and hate that no one bothered to save him. His love festered. He yearned to be held. He learned that there were ways to fill the gap in his heart.

He learned from best after all.

It took some time, but the Dark Lord was still human. As obsessed as he was with him, Harry slowly learned how to push. Jealousy was an effective tool. He had to make sure Tom looked at him, and only at him. If he used questionable methods to eliminate competition, there was a saying the end justified the means.

He learned how to have his way. Simple things, at first, then bigger things.

The ring on his finger was one. The crown on his head was another.

Tom sought for his love like fish out of water. Harry dug into his fears and his wants. Voldemort would not let anyone else in, except himself. He had the mistaken belief that they were one, that having the sliver of his soul would make them the same entity.

Harry knew the truth but never had the courage to confirm it.

There was one other desire that he longed for. Tom sought to tie him in the world by having him commit murder – to splinter his soul just as he did with his. Voldemort never thought in doing so, Harry would turn into something like him – emotionally incapable of love. It took years to find out where it was held, to destroy it, and to find the surest way to disappear from existence.

He sought for freedom.

He learnt of the veil, the different curses. He learned about the ritual of rebirth. It was signed by the Half-Blood Prince, the last mode of protection the man can ever offer as atonement for not being able to fulfill his mission. The great unknown was something Harry was prepared to face in comparison to where his life has led him.

He was so tired.

He finished the incantation and began offering his blood.

He could hear Voldemort pleading for him to stay, to cease his idiocy. The ritual had no fail safe, once started, it was bound to continue or it would consume his magic and kill him. Both were acceptable terms.

"Don't leave me."

Harry felt something then, and he thought of the many times he said the same words but was abandoned repeatedly.

Gold began to flash and Tom was casting spells, but none of it could even dent the shield.

Harry moved closer, the clock was ticking. Harry was surprised to see tears on Tom Riddle's face. Was he always capable of crying?

He only expected anger.

"I love you."

Harry heard it, and some half-forgotten part of him responded. It hurt. It hurt but it was simply just too late. Harry stared at him, taking him in – how Tom Riddle hardly aged… and remembered the times that were worth remembering.

Perhaps it would have been different… if…

Harry clenched his fists, he kept his silence. He reigned his feelings.

"I will find you…"

Whatever words Tom uttered fell to static.

Harry was in a train station. It was filled with shadows and ghosts.