He wasn't sure how he got back to the common room. He vaguely remembered to pick up his wand, but the disillusionment charm was beyond him, and he had to have made a racket running through the dungeons. But he made it, and with a croaked 'Paracelsus', staggered into the Slytherin safe house.

He couldn't calm down. His muscles were twitching as if he'd just been shot with thrice the normal recommended of Pepper Up and he couldn't stop gulping air. It felt like if he stopped breathing so hard, he wouldn't be able to start again.

Shakily, Harry waved his wand and started the fire, casting dim light onto the contours of the common room. He stumbled to a seat, sinking deep into the foamy surface of the sofa before the hearth.

He curled up on the couch.

For a second—for a second today he had thought he was going to die. He was no stranger to near fatal experiences, but he had always gone in knowing it was a possibility. This he had not seen coming. Had not thought Riddle so bold as to be this kind of threat within the walls of Hogwarts. More than that, Riddle had seemed perfectly normal before the invisible noose suddenly contracted around Harry's neck.

Harry trembled. The suddenness of the attack had shaken him. It had been a game before this, albeit a tricky one. He had thought that worst that could have happened was Riddle discovering his identity and thus any chance of finding Riddle's secrets would have disappeared. He was wrong. It was so much more than that.

A hand rose to his throat in an almost subconscious gesture. His fingers danced along the damaged skin and felt traces of braised angry welts adorning them.

He had seen this night what Riddle could do. Seen and understood. Riddle had not used his wand to hold him, and such magics were nearly impossible to trace. If Riddle disliked Harry no amount of cries of help would save him. All of Slytherin would turn a blind eye—perhaps even help Riddle cover it up. Harry would end up worse than Aitken; as Riddle had shown today, he knew perfectly well how to bring someone to the brink of death only to bar release from their suffering.

Only now did he understand the singular fear his dorm mates held against the Slytherin Heir. Now he understood their servility, their uncharacteristic meekness when faced with the Slytherin prefect. Now he understood why they were always scared to push.

Harry had pushed. He had thought himself daring and invincible. And now he had finally pushed too far.

There was no self preservation in audacity.

Harry conjured a hand mirror, and gazed into his reflection.

His neck was black with bruises, visible even under the dim lighting of the common room. He could see splotches of other colours, but there was not a patch of skin which did not bear a palpable reminder of what had happened. Thankfully, it seemed as if his own nails hadn't been sharp enough to cut, and while they had drawn red marks, there was no blood.

He took a few deep breaths, squeezed his eyes shut, and took a few more.

Finally his heart rate subdued.

He rose from the couch and slipped back into his dorms. The next day he awoke earlier than anyone else and made sure to wrap his Slytherin scarf tightly around his neck.

Anticipation chased away drowsiness. He ate little for breakfast as every bit burned as he swallowed, and along with the bags under his eyes it drew questions from his friends. But he lied readily about the possibility that he was coming down with a cold and it seemed to assuage most of the suspicion.

Harry sat down next to Riddle in Runes.

Riddle did not even bother to glance at him, eyes still on the front of the classroom as they awaited the professor. The lesson had not yet started and Harry had arrived early in order to steal Gwendolyn Mortimer's place. Riddle's voice was frigid, "Are you trying to challenge me?"

"I'm challenging myself," Harry clarified, his voice only holding the slightest hint of a rasp. His hand rose to the scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "I knew you had power, and I knew that the others were afraid of you to some extent." He breathed out. "But experiencing it myself was different."

Amusement briefly softened that cold face. "So you're trying to get over your fear?"

"Yes," Harry replied bluntly. Riddle had made it very clear last night that he wanted the truth. While Harry had no doubt he was still supposed to navigate Riddle's mind games, it also meant something that Riddle had bothered to say it at all. In a way he was relieved, because it actually lifted some of a burden from him to know that he didn't have to think of a clever lie every time to impress Riddle.

"And?" Riddle's eyes darkened to pools of liquid sleet. The end of Harry's scarf looped over his shoulder without his consent. "What if I don't want that?"

But Harry was ready this time. He didn't make a move to grab the offending tail. He knew it would only serve to cement Riddle's opinion that he was trying for competition. He couldn't afford that, not when he knew he would lose miserably the way he was now.

"So I've experienced first hand what you can do," Harry said tersely. It took all his willpower not to yank the tainted scarf off. He knew it was only a scare tactic, since Riddle couldn't very well murder him in the middle of class. "It doesn't change what I knew about you before. If I could still talk to you after something like Hogsmeade, I can talk to you after last night."

It wasn't the same thing at all. But Harry would make it the same thing. He felt ill at the thought of enduring something like last night again, but he would not be cowled.

Riddle's lips parted. Harry tensed in anticipation, waiting for a snarled reply about his presumption or hopefully a charming response about letting Harry try. Considering that Riddle's face wasn't twisted in rage, Harry was leaning more towards the latter.

To his surprise, Riddle did neither. Instead, the Slytherin Heir threw back his head, and laughed.

Everyone in the room turned to look at them, startled.

"You," Riddle said bemusedly, shaking his head, "are forever unpredictable, Evans."

Well. There wasn't really a reply to that. Harry barely refrained from staring himself. "Thank you?"

Riddle hummed as he looked away, eyes distant as his fingers drummed against the desk. "Something like last night… I won't do that to you again."

Harry nearly gaped. The upper edges of his scarf slipped a little as he jerked in surprise. "What?"

It sounded much too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

Blue eyes flicked back to meet wide green ones, a curve of a smile dusting across pale lips. "Pain is simply another tool, same as bribes or manipulation. Since you are so determined to conquer it, there's little point in using it as a deterrent."

"So that's it then?" Harry asked warily. He knew he was being too forward, but he didn't want to mistaken this. "I'm forgiven?"

Riddle leant forward. The dark haired wizard's hand rose to Harry's neck and he pressed against a tiny bit of marred skin peeking through the top of the scarf, eliciting an automatic hiss of pain from the green eyed boy. Smiling, Riddle pulled back and finished adjusting the garment to hide the bruises again. "You're probably too interesting not to forgive."

Harry wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing, but before he had time to question in, Professor Vance arrived and class began in earnest.

Riddle sat with his usual peers during the next class, and there were too many other people at around lunch. By the time evening rolled around Harry knew his opportunity to question the statement was lost. Bringing it up again would only make him seem like he was doubting Riddle's intention.

He did doubt Riddle's intention, but appearance meant a lot in Slytherin.

"You're spending the evening with us?" Yaxley asked warily after they had finished dinner and gone back to the Slytherin commons. Harry and Rosier had only stopped by their dorm to retrieve their books before rejoining Yaxley at a triad of couches.

"Yes?" Harry said in confusion as he set down his Charms homework. He raked his brain for any sort of engagement he might have forgotten about and found none.

"It just seems unusual that you are not at the library," Yaxley said carefully.

Harry stared, flummoxed. He had become well aware of how much his retreat had cost his social relations, but Yaxley had not showed any agitation when it was discussed on Thursday. He could not understand why the silver haired boy was acting distant now.

"He's spent all week at the library, Yaxley," Rosier drawled as he took the final seat and settled his Defence essay on his lap. "He's probably sick at the sight of books."

Harry smiled at his dark haired friend. Rosier at least seemed to be acting normal.

The frown on Yaxley's face became more pronounced. He scowled at the blue eyed wizard, "Yes, but it seems that the company is undeniably better."

"Well," Rosier grinned as he swung one leg over the other, leaning back with the picture of relaxation. "Considering Riddle's gone to the library, I'd say you'd be hard pressed to be better company."

Harry startled. He'd forgotten that Riddle's excuse for his disappearance for the night was some well spent time in Madam Teel's abode. Suddenly Yaxley's previous statement took on a whole new meaning.

"You're curious about why I sat with Riddle in Runes today," Harry murmured, the pieces coming together in his mind and enlightening him to the full picture.

Yaxley glanced over sharply.

Rosier caught the movement. He looked back to Harry with a smile, "Oh is that what's going on?"

Yaxley was wondering if something had changed between them, but of course he couldn't just come out and ask it outright. That wasn't considered proper.

"We weren't discussing anything important." Harry said, bemused. There hadn't been any shifting in the power structure. "Just… with what happened with Slughorn, I didn't want to bother him, but I needed to know some things about the holidays. Riddle is a prefect, and since we're the only two Slytherins in our year on the Christmas lists, I thought I'd ask him."

Although he'd come up with the lie on the spot, he thought it was believable. There were further explanations to be given. He used class time to do it because Riddle was notoriously hard to find, and Harry was too embarrassed by his request to ask during lunch or dinner. He had remained partners with Riddle through Ancient Runes because it seemed disrespectful to move. Harry did not offer the clarification himself however, since there was such a thing as overdoing a lie. The rest was only relevant if his friends felt the need to prompt him for details.

Rather uncomfortably, Harry thought about why he was lying in the first place. He rationalized that he didn't know if Riddle wanted the other Slytherins to know about purpose behind Slughorn's accident, but there was something else too. Because of how that whole experience ended, it felt far too personal.

"Oh, yes," Yaxley's brows furrowed. "I had forgotten that you would be staying for the holidays as well."

Rosier sunk bonelessly into his sofa, "Sheesh, I forgot too. It's too bad my family demands my presence. I bet you two will have all sorts of fun."

"Fun," Harry repeated flatly. Tom Riddle was many things, but Harry would not use that word to describe him. He could be engaging and often times left his companions with an uplifted feeling, but Harry could never imagine the Slytherin prefect being involved in anything associated with rowdy holiday cheer.

"Sure," Rosier shrugged. "His birthday is coming up after all, so even he's got to be affected."

Harry, who had finally settled on his couches, went nearly perpendicular. "His what?"

"Oh you didn't know?" Rosier said with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"His sixteenth name day," Yaxley explained after regarding the Rosier heir with a narrow eyed look. "It falls on New Years Eve."

Harry found that he did know. Thoughts of the haunted look in Merope's eyes and Dumbledore's low, somber voice jumbled in his mind. It felt like years ago.

"How big of a gift do you think I should get him?" Harry asked hesitantly. If it had been just a few weeks prior, he wouldn't have dared to buy anything more specific than a box of chocolate frogs. Now he wasn't sure where the boundaries of their relationship was.

Rosier seemed to understand Harry's question. His tone was thoughtful as he replied, "Something good. You'll have the entire break together after all, so by that time you two should be closer and you'll regret it if you get him some generic commodity."

Harry began to nod, and then the full weight of the challenge hit him. The green eyed boy let out a groan, burying his face in his hands. A birthday gift. For Tom Bloody Riddle.

Thankfully it wasn't actually a contest, and Harry did not have to usurp every present that the Slytherin prefect received. Doing such a thing would be virtually impossible. Every pureblood in Slytherin would be seeking to earn Riddle's favour through their gifts, and they had both vast amounts of wealth and rare family artefacts to choose from. On the other hand there were all the other admirers of Tom Riddle who did not know his true nature, but would nevertheless wish him a happy birthday. It was practically guaranteed that Riddle's presents would be ridiculous.

No, Harry didn't seek to compete with everyone else, but that didn't exactly help him with knowing what to get either. Riddle expressed an interest in many things. It was one of the reasons people liked him so much. He was knowledgable about seemingly every and any subject, and made anyone who knew about such matters feel as if they were the centre of the world. The problem was, Harry very much doubted Riddle actually liked those subjects.

"What are you planning on giving him?" Harry asked hopelessly, peeking at his friend through the slivers of his fingers.

Rosier rolled back and laughed. At Harry's scowl he quieted, but there was a grin on his face. "A spell book. An old one. It's hard to know what he'll like, but I don't think he'll dislike anything that offers rare arcane knowledge."

"That's true," Harry acknowledged. His mind wandered. Perhaps he could sneak out to Hogsmeade and browse the bookstores there. If all else failed, he could owl order from Knockturn, which was sure to have something Riddle would appreciate.

Something about that thought nudged at him, but he could not for the life of him figure out what.

"I'll get him something from our vault," Yaxley said with a deceptively careless shrug. "A magical artifact of great import, perhaps, since Rosier has the knowledge portion covered."

He spoke like he would select any random thing, when Harry knew it would be anything but. Likely the silver haired boy would spend the entire day trying to choose the best relic from their collection, if he hadn't already.

"Well," Rosier said thoughtfully, "if you really can't think of anything, I could give you one of the books from the Rosier library. They're all pretty rare and won't bring dissatisfaction, I don't think. You can even pay me for it."

That snapped Harry out of his reverie. His head jerked, "What? You'd let me do that?"

"Yes," Yaxley's voice was a low simmer. His eyes were utterly unreadable as he looked at the Rosier heir. "You'd do that for him, Rosier?"

"Sure, why not?" Rosier grinned. "They're only collectables. I'm not offering anything crazy like special Rosier inheritance."

Harry sat up straight at the words, and suddenly he knew what it was that had been nagging him earlier. He felt his blood run cold, because it had to be the most stupid—but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. And the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the perfect gift. More than that, it was one he wanted to give.

"Could you hold on to that idea?" Harry asked slowly. "I think I may have an idea of what to get. If it doesn't pan out I might want to buy something from you after all, though."

Rosier only smiled, showing all teeth, "Oh, I live to serve."

Harry huffed out a laugh but did not stay. He left his friends in order to hurriedly scrawl out a letter. He ran to the owlery before the ink had even dried, anxious to send off the message for fear he'd be too late. When he arrived he felt a stab of longing for Hedwig, but the terrible feeling quickly passed.

A day came and went without a reply, but on Sunday, Harry received the owl at breakfast telling him his gift idea was still feasible. Harry breathed a veritable sigh of relief.

"You're not going to tell us what it is?" Yaxley asked with a hint of annoyance. "We told you our gift ideas."

Harry shook his head with a small smile, "You gave the most generic answers. I'm sure you know that the only secrets kept in Hogwarts are the secrets that only one person knows."

Rosier snorted into his juice, "He's got you there, Yaxley."

After breakfast, Harry waved off, stating that he needed to finish the last of his essays. That earned him an easy dismissal, because schoolwork was a ready excuse.

Harry did not really need to study for school though. He found the section of the library that he needed and pulled out a stack of books to examine. Heading to the table which he had come to fondly dub as his, he settled down and began reading.

He was about halfway through his third tome when a shadow fell over him.

Harry looked up and nearly had a heart attack.

"Merlin," he spluttered, slamming his book shut, "please stop sneaking up on me like this."

"Theories on wandless magic, Harry?" Riddle asked as he inspected the mound of volumes beside the other boy. His eyes were shaded even though his voice was feather light. "Are you certain you don't wish to challenge me?"

"Not at all," Harry replied just as casually, although inwardly his chest cavity was doing its best to mimic a bumble ball. "I was just curious about how you were able to do what you did the other night. You were in full control, and as far as I knew, that shouldn't be possible without a wand."

"Ah yes," Riddle's lips curled upward. "Your curiosity about magic. You mentioned that the first day you arrived, do you remember?"

Harry nodded slowly. He doubted he could ever forget that fateful night.

Riddle glided past the table. He began down the aisle. "Do you know what you revealed to us then?"

Harry thought. He remembered his attempt to diffuse the interest in his future career. He remembered the queer looks that had passed between the others.

"I told you," he said slowly. "That I was not pureblood."

It was obvious now. By implying how impressed he was by magic and saying that three more years of it would help him make up his mind, he'd been announcing that he hadn't grown up with it. In alternate words, the others had figured out he was a half blood long before he decided to tell them. And they had allowed him to pretend otherwise.

"That is correct." Riddle finally stopped at a shelf. A lone, pale finger shuffled through the books as he half paid attention to Harry. "But you had no idea then, did you?"

"No," Harry agreed. There was little point in hiding it.

"And if we were to have that conversation again?" Riddle asked lightly, "What would you say now?"

"That," Harry replied carefully, "would depend on whether I was talking with just you, or Rosier and the others too."

Riddle bowed his forehead against the mahogany shelves, and laughed. He also seemed to finally settle on a book, because he pulled it out in one smooth motion. Tilting his head in bemusement, he tossed the text in Harry's direction.

Harry caught it. His eyes widened when he made out the title. It was about wandless magic.

"That is probably the best book there is on the theories," Riddle said softly. "There isn't really a fixed way to learn it, so there isn't a textbook. Since very few wizards can do it, it's hard to create a standard method that applies equally to everyone. I will say that learning it is difficult."

Harry could hardly breathe. "You—why—"

He knew the response was stupid, but he couldn't help it. This was the last thing he expected from the future lord Voldemort.

"You have an… aptitude." Riddle's steps were slow as he made his way back. He stopped just before Harry, leaning against the edge of the table as he folded his arms loosely across his chest. His body was the picture of relaxation as he looked to the ceiling. "I saw right away what Rosier and Yaxley were trying to do when they introduced you to me. I doubt that they expected you to become the greatest threat of all."

Harry's hands shook. It sounded like—it almost sounded like Riddle was saying that the person closest to him right now was—

"I know you've mastered non verbal magic by now. I'll expect you to know the basic theory of wandless magic by Christmas." The sheer confidence he seemed to have in Harry's ability was unbelievable. Intoxicating. "You are different from the others, after all." With that, the other turned on his heel and disappeared from sight.

Harry could only stare after him, heart pounding out a beat too rapid to follow.

"…hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him," Dumbledore's voice warned inside his mind, "They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one."

Harry's fingers ran along the surface of the book on wandless magic. Yes he knew, he knew that Voldemort wasn't his friend—but he doubted that Lord Voldemort had ever so freely helped anyone before, either. He told himself not to look too deeply into it, not to let himself believe that he was being treated differently from the others—

But how could he not, when he was absolutely sure that Tom would not have done this for anyone else?

A/n: -Breathes- Okay, this is the end of Arc 1. Don't worry, this isn't the end of the story, and I'm too in love with my little Slytherin crew to abandon them. The favourite is obviously Riddle, but they've all grown on me even though they're racist sociopaths—even Avery. However, I've hit the end of my Harry Potter inspiration period and will be taking a break. I could probably have one more chapter written but it makes more sense for me to stop here and continue next time. I don't know for how long this break will last - could be a few months, could be a few years. I don't really plan for these things, but I'm aware enough of myself to know it happens. Just wanted to tell you lovelies that even if it's 2020, it doesn't necessarily mean this story is abandoned.