I'm so sorry for the longer than usual wait…this chapter gave me quite a bit of trouble, and RL has been hectic af lately. And, LOL, I was a bit premature with the author's note last chapter, because THIS is in fact the chapter in which Everything Happens So Much .

And, if you're dying to know about the previously-mentioned favor Tom did for Severus, and who the mysterious other person involved was, my Sev/James/Lily prequel fic "Always and Forever" has covered it already, if you care to give it a read. *shameless plug, not sorry*

(also: minor edits have been/will be made to Sev's confession in chapter 4 if/when needed to comply with developments in Always Forever. All I've changed so far is that Sev says J/S/L were together for 6th and part of 7th year now, instead of just most of 6th.)

And, er, I hope you all aren't sick of the Severitis moments, because they aren't going away any time soon.

The only warnings I can think of for this chapter are: a minor character death (not anyone who's been seen or even mentioned in the story until now), and some borderline suicidal intentions/actions from a secondary character near the very end of the chapter (nothing actually Happens though).

Anyway, enjoy! :)

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Voldemort, once again wearing the snakelike glamour, walked out of the bedroom and Harry followed. The enormous sitting room was empty and the door to Hermione's room was still closed. Voldemort headed for the fireplace and told Harry, "I'll step through to the Ministry and arrange everything. In the meantime you should try again to smooth things over with your friends. Perhaps with less temper this time?" he suggested, looking mildly amused.

"Right," Harry mumbled, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck as the two of them lingered by the fireplace. "It's just—they're never going to understand. We're just going to keep fighting and going around in circles."

"So lie," Voldemort said, sounding amused and slightly exasperated. "You know them—tap into your Slytherin side and tell them whatever will make this situation make sense to them."

"The truth is the only thing that makes this make sense. But I'm definitely not telling Ron and Ginny about the Horcrux or about us."

"Both of them accompanied you to the Hall of Prophecies… Do they know the content of the prophecy as well?"

Harry nodded—he'd told Ron and Hermione, and later Ginny what it said and what Dumbledore told him it meant.

"All right," Tom said, looking only moderately annoyed by that fact, "so tell them that you've discovered 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' and that you're using it to enforce our truce. Tell them that it makes me unable to harm you now."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "They'll want to know what the power is."

"And naturally you'll say you can't tell them—for their own safety, of course," Tom said, sounding amused. "If they don't accept that, then tell them we swore a Vow of secrecy."

"They'll want to know why I haven't vanquished you yet if you can't hurt me," Harry said, putting a sardonic emphasis on 'vanquished.'

"Would you though? Kill an enemy who couldn't fight back?"

"Of course not."

"Then that's why you haven't," Voldemort answered, as though it should've been obvious. "If they understand you at all, they won't even think to ask that question."

Harry crossed his arms, and with a humorless smile said, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure they're going to ask though." What did it say about him that his former archenemy apparently understood him better than his own friends?

Voldemort stepped closer and reached out to run one hand through Harry's hair. "You don't need them," he said quietly, as if in response to Harry's thoughts or emotions or both. "You have me," he said in a fond but serious tone, giving Harry a meaningful look when he glanced up to meet Tom's eyes. Nothing concrete came through their connection, but Harry sensed that Tom was trying to say two or possibly ten things at once with that. Harry gave him a hint of a smile, then leaned in for another brief kiss.

"Be careful, all right?" Harry said when he pulled away.

"I think I can survive a trip to the Ministry."

Harry tsked and said, "Nope, not now, you just jinxed it."

"I'll jinx you, brat," Tom teased back.

Harry laughed and stole another kiss before stepping back. He nodded towards the fireplace and grudgingly said, "All right, go on and set up our history-making press conference."

"You could at least try to sound excited about it."

"I really don't like being in the spotlight, ironically enough."

"Don't fret about it, I'll do most of the talking," Voldemort said, reaching for the canister of floo powder on the mantle and grabbing a handful.

"Most of it?"

"Well yes, you can't just stand there and think of England or it's going to look like I have you under the Imperius."

"But—"

"Harry, go placate your friends, and once I'm back we'll work out the details. All right?"

Harry crossed his arms but said, "Fine."

Voldemort nodded at him, then threw the floo powder in the fireplace, called out "Minister of Magic's Office," and stepped through.

Harry watched him go, then sighed and headed for Hermione's room.

When he was only a few steps away from it, the door opened and Severus stuck his head out. He immediately caught sight of Harry, briefly looked him over, and then raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Harry asked, feeling self-conscious under the scrutiny.

Severus glanced back into Hermione's room before opening the door wider and stepping out just far enough that he could still keep an eye on the teenagers inside. "Muffliato," he cast, before giving Harry another look and saying pointedly, "Well. No need to ask what you disappeared to do."

"What?" Harry repeated, blushing and quickly checking himself over to make sure that his zip was closed, and that he didn't have any incriminating fluids anywhere on him. He didn't find anything, but maybe Tom had left a hickey again?

Severus huffed a laugh and said, "Calm down, you're decent. I just happen to know what 'shagged out' looks like on a Potter."

"Oh my god," Harry said, mortified. Severus seemed amused, and Harry found himself blurting out, "You would've been the dad that tried to embarrass me all the time, wouldn't you?"

Severus looked stricken for half a second, then he recovered and went along with it, saying, "Naturally. I would've also been the strict one."

"Naturally," Harry agreed.

Severus gave him a long look then said almost wistfully, "James would've been the fun dad—taking you flying and teaching you how to play pranks on the unsuspecting. Lily would've been the most affectionate and overprotective mum in history—you would've never doubted that you were loved."

Something in Harry's chest clenched but felt warm at the same time, and he asked, "Brothers and sisters?"

"Probably. Lily always wanted a big family."

Harry smiled sadly, and said, "I wish things had worked out—"

"So do I," Severus interrupted, "every thrice-damned day of my life, but dwelling on impossibilities is poisonous to the mind. I shouldn't have indulged you with it," he said, his expression closing off and his walls going back up.

"No, Sev," Harry said earnestly, "thank you. I used to wonder all the time what my parents were really like—I had never even seen a picture of them until I went to Hogwarts and found one in a history book, and I always sort of assumed Aunt Petunia was lying whenever she badmouthed them. Actually knowing things about them for real—it means the world to me."

Severus stared at him a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before swearing, "Damn it, Harry," and swooping towards him to pull him into an unexpected hug. Harry hugged him back and grinned because it was the first time that Severus had initiated a hug rather than just grudgingly accepting one.

Neither of them made any move to pull away from the hug, and Severus muttered, "I think I'm going to murder Petunia if I ever see her again."

"You'll have to get in line behind Tom."

Severus tensed slightly and asked, "Why exactly would he care whether she told you lies about your parents?"

"It wasn't so much that as the cupboard, and the trying to 'stamp the magic out of me'," Harry said uncomfortably.

"The cupboard?" Severus echoed, his tone sounding simultaneously confused by that part and furious about the other since it was rather self-explanatory.

Harry swallowed, then said, "Yeah. You saw a bit of it, during our Occlumency lessons—my uncle locking me in there."

"An unorthodox punishment, perhaps, but I don't see why it would make the Dark Lord want to murder them."

"It wasn't a punishment," Harry said awkwardly. "Well, it was, but it was also my room."

Severus tensed, then finally pulled back far enough to look Harry in the eyes and put both hands on his shoulders. "What?" he demanded.

Harry avoided eye contact but continued, "That's where they made me stay until my Hogwarts letter came—it was actually addressed to 'the cupboard under the stairs,' and they only moved me to Dudley's second bedroom because they were afraid Child Protective Services or whatever it's called would find out. It's not a big deal, I mean, it's in the past. It could've been worse," he added, thinking of the glimpse he'd gotten of Sev's dad during their Occlumency lessons.

"Harry—"

"I really don't want to talk about it anymore. All right?" he said with finality, leaning towards Severus again and laying his head on his chest when Severus put his arms back around Harry for another hug.

"All right," Severus somberly agreed. He seemed to hesitate, then added quietly, "I'm not sure if it'll make it better or worse to know this, but… I did try. I asked Albus if I could take care of you after..." he trailed off, then cleared his throat and continued. "He just gave me that all-knowing look of his and said in so many words that you were in good hands, and that he was already exerting his influence just to keep me out of Azkaban. Then he asked me—rhetorically, of course—if I really thought the world would stand for an ex- Death Eater raising the Boy Who Lived, and he asked whether I was even in any state to take care of a baby by myself." Severus paused, then said, "Which, honestly, I wasn't—I was a wreck—but I certainly never would've hurt you, and you wouldn't have slept in a bloody cupboard."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut to ward off a prickling of tears, and he hugged Sev tighter. When he was sure he could speak without his voice wavering, he said, "Thank you." Then in reference to Sev's first statement, he said, "It's definitely better—knowing that you cared, even if you had to act like you hated me."

"Good." After a long, silent moment Severus cleared his throat and changed the subject, asking, "Where has the Dark Lord disappeared to?"

"Ministry," Harry answered. "We're announcing the truce today, and he's making all the arrangements for it."

"So he'll be a while," Severus inferred. Harry shrugged, and Severus continued, "I was actually on my way to tell the both of you that Miss Granger has just awakened."

Harry straightened up without fully pulling away from the hug and looked up at Severus, demanding, "Is she all right?"

"Fine," Severus assured him. "She was rather confused when Mr. Weasley mentioned your supposed relationship with Draco, but after I dropped a few hints she caught on quickly enough and played along with the cover story."

"Good—I hadn't even thought to worry about that. Oh!" he blurted out as he remembered, "Draco wanted to be here when she woke up." Severus raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't comment. "Could I, er, borrow your arm for a second?" Harry asked tentatively.

Severus' eyebrow went even higher. "Why?"

"To try to call Draco. I want to know if I can use the Mark when it's not a life-or-death emergency or if last time was just a fluke."

Severus just looked at him for a moment longer before finally letting go of Harry and taking a step back. He rolled up his left sleeve to reveal the Mark, then held it out towards Harry the same way the Death Eaters always offered it to the Dark Lord—with his arm straightened out and angled towards the floor, and with his wrist and the Mark both facing up and exposed.

"Er," Harry said awkwardly, "actually I think it needs to touch my scar to work properly, so," he gestured awkwardly, and Severus rolled his eyes before lifting his arm instead, with the elbow bent and the forearm held up vertically with the Mark facing Harry at eye-level. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Just get on with it," Severus grumbled.

Harry swallowed, said, "All right," then reached up with both hands, one closing around Sev's wrist to hold his arm steady and the other resting near his elbow. "Here goes," he said, then pressed his scar to the Mark.

He closed his eyes and reached out like he had before, linking into the net-like structure of the Mark's magic—it was actually easier this time, without the panic and urgency and uncertainty. Just like when he'd managed to cast that Patronus in third year to save Sirius, he managed to do it because he already knew that he could. Harry felt around through the latticework of magic until he found the thread connected to Draco, and then he tugged on it and sent the message, 'Come back—she's awake.' Then he broke the connection, letting go of Sev's arm and pulling his head away.

Not thirty seconds later, there was muffled pop and then a knock on the main door. Harry grinned, and Severus said, "Well. There's that question answered." Severus cancelled the Muffliato, then cast some kind of privacy ward over the open bedroom doorway instead after peeking in on the others briefly.

Harry hurried to the door and opened it to admit Draco, who said, "That was just bizarre, Potter," as he rubbed his left arm.

"It didn't hurt too much did it?" Harry asked, closing the door once Draco had stepped through.

"Not much," Draco answered, "it was just strange. It sort of, I don't know—buzzed—instead of burning like when He calls."

"Yeah, that's what Sev said too. Like an electric shock." Harry glanced over at Severus, who was rolling his sleeve back down and watching the two of them.

"You said she's awake?" Draco asked. "Is she all right?"

Severus chimed in, "She's fully recovered and it's safe to use magic around her again. However, she still needs to rest and let her magical core replenish itself, so try not to agitate her too much."

"I won't," Draco said.

"Ron and Ginny are still here," Harry warned him.

Draco's lip curled slightly but he said, "I'll play nice if they do."

"I can't promise they will," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "And actually—Tom wants me to smooth things over with them, since it didn't go so great earlier. So, er, can you two just play along with whatever I tell them?"

"Do we get any foreknowledge of your plan, or are you just going to make it up as you go?" Severus asked in a longsuffering tone.

"Mostly make it up as I go," Harry answered, with a sheepish half-smile. "But the gist of it is, I'm going to tell them that I'm using 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' that the prophecy talked about to enforce the truce."

"That power being—?" Severus prompted.

"Well, I can't tell them—for their own protection, of course," Harry said, echoing Tom's wording.

"And do we know?" Draco asked, looking amused.

"Erm—Sev, you know because you helped me discover the power, but you swore never to tell anyone what it is—that might make them trust you a bit more," he said to Severus, who nodded and seemed to approve. "But you don't," Harry told Draco, smirking and playfully punching him on the shoulder, "because I just love you too much to put you in danger."

Draco seemed to choke on air, then he blushed and said, "Salazar, Potter, I thought you said no Weasel-and-Brown-type declarations."

Harry rolled his eyes and said, "Why does everyone around me have hang-ups about the L word? Fine, I won't say that exactly, but it'll be implied, all right?"

"Fine," Draco agreed, still rather red.

"All right," Harry said, glancing towards the open doorway to Hermione's room. "Ready then?" He glanced at Draco and then Severus, who both nodded. Severus drew his wand and took down the privacy spell on the doorway, and the three of them stepped inside.

Harry pulled the door closed behind them, and the noise caught the attention of Ron and Ginny, who were both seated in the chairs beside Hermione's bed, and who both looked over their shoulder at the new arrivals. Ginny's expression cooled noticeably when she briefly glanced at Harry before turning back around. Hermione's attention was on the jar of Dittany salve in her lap that she was trying to open while she quietly finished a sentence with, "…probably locked in the Chamber anyway," and she didn't even notice Harry and Draco approaching until Draco had already conjured two chairs on the opposite side of her bed from Ron and Ginny. Severus kept his distance, standing silently near the doorway.

"Oh, thanks," Harry absently told Draco with a small smile as he sat down in the closest chair. "Hey, Hermione."

Hermione glanced finally glanced up. "Harry, Draco," she said, smiling at them both and reaching up for a hug, "come here." Harry immediately stood back up and then leaned down to embrace her, but Draco hung back looking hesitant. When Harry pulled away, Hermione caught Draco's eye and said, "I meant you too, you know," reaching up again.

Draco blinked, looking both surprised and guilty, then he leaned down to hug her. "I'm so sorry," he said into her ear, quietly but still audible to the rest of the group. "I swear I thought that spell would show all of the cursed books—"

"Draco, it wasn't—" Hermione started to say.

"So this was your fault?" Ron interrupted, glaring at Draco when he pulled back from the hug. "Why am I not surprised?"

"It was an accident," Hermione snapped, shooting Ron a warning glare before turning a softer look towards Draco. "It absolutely was not your fault, Draco. And I'm fine now, as you can all see. Professor Snape said it might not even scar too badly if I keep Dittany on it," she said, picking the jar up out of her lap again and attempting to unscrew the lid.

"Here," Draco said, holding out his hand for the jar. "I probably put the lid back on too tight."

"Thanks," she said, handing it over and flexing the fingers of her previously-injured hand. "Hand's a bit sore still."

"I could've got that," Ron muttered. Ginny rolled her eyes at him.

Draco opened the jar and when Hermione held out her hand to take it back, instead of handing the jar over, Draco gently caught her hand in his own and asked, "Allow me?"

"Oh, er, all right," Hermione said, blushing slightly and leaving her arm extended when he let go of her hand. Draco dipped his fingers in the jar and scooped out a small amount of the Dittany, then carefully applied it to the stripe of reddened skin on her palm and wrist.

"Oi, I can do that," Ron interrupted again. "Or Ginny, or Harry. She doesn't need your slimy Death Eater hands all over her."

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded. Draco blinked and looked annoyed, but he held his tongue and kept rubbing in the Dittany until it was absorbed.

Harry looked at Ron and said coolly, "Draco's Mark is what let me call Severus for help. Otherwise I would've had to run all over the Manor like an idiot trying to find Tom before she bled out. Maybe you should think about that before you go insulting him."

Ron paled a bit and gave Hermione a worried glance—evidently, Severus hadn't told Ron or Ginny just how serious her injury had been.

"You can use the Dark Mark?" Hermione asked, giving Harry a fascinated but concerned look—she had lost consciousness right around the time he'd thought to attempt it.

"Yep," Harry said, forcing a half smile and tapping one finger against his scar. He knew Hermione would understand that it was because of the Horcrux.

"Oh," she said, before hesitantly asking, "and how are things, with Tom?"

"Fine now," Harry said, giving her a genuine smile, "it's sorted."

"Good," she said, letting out a relieved breath.

"What's sorted?" Ginny asked suspiciously, finally acknowledging Harry's existence.

Harry swallowed and said, "Tom and I just had a bit of a row this morning, is all. Nothing to worry about." Harry glanced at Ron briefly, then back at Ginny and decided to put his plan in motion. "Actually, he's stepped out to arrange the announcement of our truce, and there's something I need to tell you that I didn't want to say in front of him."

Both Weasleys sat up straighter in their chairs.

"What is it?" Ginny asked.

"You two remember the prophecy, right? The part about me having 'power the Dark Lord knows not'?"

"Yeah, but," Ron said, glaring at Draco before glancing unsubtly over his shoulder at Severus and then quietly asking, "should you be saying this in front of those two?"

"It's fine, Sev's the one who helped me discover the power," Harry said. "And I trust Draco."

"'Sev'?" Ron repeated incredulously, both eyebrows raised.

Harry shrugged, and from his post by the door Severus warned in a threatening tone, "If any of you besides Harry or Draco ever call me that, I will find a reason to put you in detention for a month once we're back at Hogwarts."

Ron gulped and said, "Yes sir."

Ginny caught Harry's eye and asked, "What is the power, then?"

Harry forced an apologetic smile and looked away. "I can't tell you. It's too dangerous for any of you to know the specifics."

In his peripheral vision Harry saw Hermione wearing a dubious expression, but she remained silent.

"But—" Ron started, only to be interrupted.

"Give it up, Weasley," Draco drawled. "He wouldn't even tell me after several rather creative attempts at persuasion," he said suggestively, making Harry blush, Ron turn slightly green, Hermione raise her eyebrows, and Ginny cross her arms and glare. Draco smirked and turned toward Harry instead, then continued fondly, "Saint Potter here is just too noble to put anyone he cares about in danger."

"Oh, stop it," Harry told Draco, trying to will away his blush. "Anyway," he said, to the group at large, "I'm using the power to enforce this truce, and as long as I do, Tom can't hurt me."

Ginny and Ron both blinked and stared at him for a moment, before Ginny excitedly said, "That means you can get rid of him, then? If he can't hurt you?" Ron eagerly nodded along as she spoke.

Harry frowned and opened his mouth to correct them, but surprisingly Draco beat him to it.

"You're joking, right?" Draco asked, sneering at them both. "You really think Harry, of all people, would kill someone in cold blood when they can't fight back?"

"It's bloody You-Know-Who!" Ron argued.

"It doesn't matter. Draco's right," Harry said, impulsively reaching over to take Draco's hand in appreciation. "I'm not going to kill him. I couldn't do that." Draco laced their fingers together, and Harry glanced over to give him a grateful smile.

Ginny stood up abruptly and walked towards the door. "I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered.

"Ginny," Harry tried, only for her to spin around and shout at him.

"He killed your parents, Harry! He tried to kill you when you were a baby who couldn't fight back."

"I'm very aware of that," Harry said tersely. "That doesn't make it okay for me to turn around and do the same thing."

"He's a monster! I had his diary, I had him in my head for a year, and the second he had enough control over me to stop playing nice, he showed his true colors and he used me and betrayed me—he'll do the same to you. He's a total psychopath, and if anybody ever deserved to die, it's him."

Harry didn't know what his expression was doing, but whatever it was made Draco squeeze his hand pointedly and give him a subtle warning look. Harry blinked, then made an effort to stay calm when he replied, "I've had him in my head most of my life, Ginny—I know what he was like. I saw it and felt it, vividly. But this 'power' from the prophecy—it has to do with our connection, and it's changed him. I mean, he's still Voldemort, but he's more stable now, more rational. Less murder-y," he tacked on at the end in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit, but it fell flat.

Ron spoke up, looking thoughtful, "Has it changed you too?"

"What? No," Harry said.

Ron gave him a dubious look. "Really? Because shagging Malfoy and being best pals with Snape and You-Know-Who is definitely not your normal behavior, mate."

Ginny gave him a humorless smile and added, "Not to mention just standing by and letting him force his way into my head again."

"I'm sorry about that, Gin," Harry told her truthfully. "But like I said, he's still Voldemort. I can't control him."

"If he can't hurt you—" Ron started to argue, but Harry interrupted.

"Exactly—me! He won't hurt me, but he can still hurt you lot. If you piss him off too much, or if I do, he's perfectly able to come after you."

"Like you care," Ginny scoffed.

"I do care, Ginny," Harry said in a tone that managed to be sincere and frustrated at the same time, "I'm always going to care about you—about all of you. Even if you decide I've gone insane and turn your backs on me. But I'm hoping," he paused for a moment, giving first Ginny and then Ron an entreating look, "that you'll trust me when I say that this truce is the best way forward. I'm hoping that you'll trust me to deal with Voldemort, even if it's not exactly in the way you'd imagined."

Ginny crossed her arms and gave Harry a long, silent, and considering look before she finally sighed and walked back over to sit in the chair next to Ron's. Harry gave her a tentative smile that went unreturned when she glanced down at the floor instead. Harry still chose to take it as a good sign that she'd sat back down. Harry looked at Ron next, who gave him a much more promising smile and asked Harry, "What's the plan, then?"

"Well," Harry said, "there isn't really a specific plan—I just need to stay close to him and keep, you know, using the power."

The tiniest of huffs came from across the room, and Harry glanced at Severus to find him looking far too amused. No one else seemed to notice.

Ron asked, "How often do you have to do it?"

"Erm," Harry said.

"Fairly often, it seems," Severus chimed in, drawing everyone's attention. "In fact, if I'm not mistaken, Harry was 'using the power' shortly before he joined us here."

Everyone looked back around to stare at Harry, and he felt his face going red. "Thank you, Severus, for pointing that out," he said tersely.

"Any time," Severus said, still wearing a hint of a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes and tried to avoid everyone else's.

"Well, anyway," Harry said, trying to will away his blush, "I would really appreciate it if you could keep all of this to yourselves for now." He glanced specifically at Ron and Ginny, and added, "The Order doesn't need to know anything other than what I put in that letter, all right?"

Ron frowned and said, "They could help—"

"They would think they're helping," Harry interrupted, "but they would probably just piss Tom off and make things harder for me."

"But—"

"Ron, just trust me—I've got this, all right?"

Ron looked at him silently for a moment, then said, "In that letter, you said that you Obliviated me because I couldn't handle certain details about your involvement with You-Know-Who." Harry guiltily looked down at his lap, but Ron continued, "Were you talking about the power?"

Harry considered it for a moment, then nodded. Since Severus had already jokingly made that connection by calling his relationship with Tom 'the power', Harry might as well stick with that analogy.

Ron immediately asked, "Why couldn't I handle it? Is it something Dark?"

"Er, not exactly," Harry said.

"Is it hurting you?"

"No," Harry said immediately.

"Mr. Weasley," Severus interrupted, "if you don't stop asking questions, we'll be forced to Obliviate you again, along with Miss Weasley."

Ron gave Severus a sullen look over his shoulder before turning back to Harry and muttering, "Excuse me for wanting to know what could make my best friend Obliviate me and throw me out."

"It wasn't Harry," Hermione interrupted, staring down at her lap and nervously turning the jar of Dittany salve over and over in her hands. "He's just trying to be noble and take the blame…It was me."

Ron blinked and stared at Hermione in disbelief. "Hermione—?"

"You were going to leave," she told him, with a hint of resentment underneath the guilt in her tone. "But you knew too much, and I didn't know yet that Professor Snape was on our side, and I thought he or Voldemort might hurt you so I panicked and Obliviated you. I'm sorry, Ron," she said, finally looking up to make eye contact.

"Hermione," Ron repeated again, looking hurt and betrayed. After a moment, he said, "But—then that means you know what the power is, if you made me forget it."

Hermione hesitated, then silently nodded and nervously stared back down at her lap.

Ron glared at Harry and said, "What happened to 'it's too dangerous to tell people I care about'?"

Harry, not thrilled at all by this development, sighed and simply said, "It's Hermione—she figured it out on her own, and she'd just do it again if we Obliviated her."

Ron scoffed and said, "Right, so it's fine to put her in danger but not that bloody ferret? I'd bet you anything he's just using you—he doesn't really care about you."

Harry opened his mouth to argue but Draco beat him to it.

Draco sneered and told Ron, "You'd have to have money to bet with first, Weasel. But regardless, you'd lose."

Harry shot Draco a look and said, "I distinctly remember asking you to play nice."

Draco said, "I distinctly remember saying I would if they would. They aren't."

Ron cut in with a nasty, "Then go cry to your daddy like you do about everything else—oh wait, he's got no influence anymore now that everyone knows he's a filthy Death Eater."

"Ron!" Harry protested.

Draco abruptly stood and drew his wand. "We 'filthy Death Eaters' know all sorts of creative curses, Weasel. Shall I demonstrate?"

Ron stood up too, wandless but with both fists clenched, and Hermione scolded from the bed between them, "Stop it, both of you!"

Ginny stayed seated but kept a wary eye on Draco, and Harry didn't doubt for a second that she would jump in to help Ron if Draco attacked.

Harry stood up next to Draco and put his hand on Draco's wand arm, putting the slightest pressure on it and urging him to lower it. "Draco, don't," he said quietly but forcefully.

Draco huffed out a frustrated sigh, but after a brief token hesitation he lowered his wand and put it away.

Severus finally spoke up from his post by the door, using a tone that typically meant detention for the unlucky recipients. "I believe visiting hours are over," he said, stepping towards the group. "You were all allowed in on the condition that you not agitate Miss Granger, and you've broken that agreement. Get out."

"Professor," Hermione protested, "I'm fine, really—"

"The health-monitoring spells I placed on you say otherwise," Severus interrupted. "Your magical core won't replenish properly if you remain under prolonged stress."

Harry glanced at Hermione, concerned.

Ron blinked, then his anger seemed to deflate and he said, "Sorry, Hermione."

Almost simultaneously, Draco looked at her and said, "My apologies."

Then Ron and Draco shot suspicious glares at each other, and Harry nearly laughed at the sight of them.

"Come on," Harry said, taking Draco's hand and tugging him towards the door. "We'll let you rest, Hermione, and we can catch up later. Tom and I are going to announce the truce today, so I'll let you know how that goes."

"All right," she told him, giving him a small smile. "Good luck."

Ginny stood up and leaned over Hermione to hug her and tell her "Goodbye," before whispering something in her ear that made Hermione nod and give her a serious look in return.

Ron, after awkwardly fidgeting for a moment, leaned down to hug Hermione too once Ginny had moved aside.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione said again, referring to the Obliviation.

"It's all right," Ron said, planting a brief kiss on her cheek as he pulled away from the hug and straightened up, "you were just protecting me."

Hermione, her cheeks slightly red, gave him a tentative smile before looking down at her lap.

Next to Harry, Draco rolled his eyes in disgust and muttered, "Gag me." Harry elbowed him in the ribs.

"All right," Severus said, "you've said your goodbyes. Now get out and let her rest."

Ginny and Ron glanced at Severus then reluctantly headed for the door, passing Harry and Draco on the way. Ginny opened the door and went through to the sitting room, but Ron looked back at Hermione, and said, "Stay safe, all right?"

Hermione smiled and said, "You too, Ron."

Ron nodded, then finally left the room. Harry and Draco headed towards the door as well.

Hermione sighed, then asked, "Professor? Would you please hand me the top three books off of that pile on the bureau?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder and was rewarded with the sight of Sev's eyebrows going up in surprise when he saw the titles and realized they were all Sex Magic books. Severus took the books to Hermione, then raised an eyebrow at her and commented, "Interesting choice of extracurricular reading material, Miss Granger."

Hermione's face went so red that Harry could see her blush from across the room and she said, "If you must know, I'm helping Harry research the ritual that he and Tom were put through."

"Of course," Severus said neutrally. "Get some rest. I'll be back to check on you periodically," he added, before turning and heading for the door. He ushered Harry and Draco out of the room before following them and closing the door.

Harry automatically looked for Ron and Ginny, and found them both standing at the fireplace. It took him another second to realize that Ginny had the canister of floo powder in her hands, and she was reaching to remove the lid. Several thoughts went through Harry's head simultaneously—that Ron and Ginny could ruin things by saying too much to the Order, that Severus would probably be punished since he'd been ordered to guard them, that Tom would probably be furious with Harry and assume he'd let them escape on purpose, that there was no time to grab his wand but he absolutely couldn't let them leave like this—and he found himself stretching out his open right hand, throwing out his magic, and determinedly thinking 'Accio!'

The canister flew out of Ginny's hands and smacked into Harry's open palm, and his Seeker's reflexes clenched his fingers around the container before it could fall. He blinked in surprise, then looked up to find everyone else staring at him with either raised eyebrows or slack jaws or both.

"Erm," Harry said awkwardly.

"Nice one," Draco said quietly, sounding impressed.

"Blimey, since when can you do that?" Ron asked, looking impressed as well as flabbergasted. Ginny crossed her arms and stayed silent, though she gave Harry a rather betrayed and suspicious look.

"Since now?" Harry said, and shrugged. He'd never put much effort into trying to practice wandless magic—he'd managed it once or twice in emergencies, but never anything quite this controlled or deliberate.

Beside him, Severus took the canister from his hands, took out his wand, and applied a sealing and locking spell to its lid before casually levitating the jar back over to the mantle above the fireplace. "I strongly suggest that you two don't try anything like that again," Severus told Ron and Ginny in a dangerous tone. Then he turned to Harry, looking subtly impressed and curious, and said, "You, on the other hand—try it again," he instructed, nodding towards the jar on the mantle.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and said, "I probably can't, it was just one of those heat of the moment things—"

"Try. It. Again." Severus interrupted.

"Fine," Harry snapped, stretching out his hand towards the jar. He concentrated on throwing his magic out the way he had the first time, thinking 'Accio,' and trying to put the same sense of urgency into it that he'd felt before.

The jar slid forward a few inches to the edge of the mantle, then wobbled precariously and toppled over—it would've shattered on the floor if Sev hadn't caught it with a nonverbal levitation spell. Severus floated it back onto the mantle, then told Harry, "Try again."

"Sev," Harry protested, but then a knock on the door interrupted him. Harry smirked, pointed at the door, then said, "Look, a distraction."

Severus gave him an un-amused glare, but he did turn to open the door.

Lucius was on the other side of it. He gave Severus a disdainful look, then demanded, "Where is the Dark Lord?"

"Out," Severus answered curtly, starting to close the door again. "Goodbye."

Lucius slammed his hand against the door to stop it from closing in his face, then he pushed his way into the room, glancing around to take in the scene before finally focusing on Draco.

"Draco, where is the Dark Lord?"

Draco glanced at Harry and then at his father and said, "I'm not exactly sure."

Lucius' expression twitched in annoyance and he turned to Harry instead. "Potter?"

"Yes?" Harry replied, taking a bit of pleasure in being difficult on purpose.

Lucius' eyes narrowed in even further annoyance, but he kept his temper and repeated the question. "Where is the Dark Lord?"

"Why do you want to know?" Harry asked casually.

"I have something time-sensitive to report to him," Lucius answered tersely, and Harry could almost hear the insult on the end that Lucius was obviously holding back.

Harry shrugged, and said, "Report it to me."

Lucius blinked and snapped, "It doesn't work that way, Potter. Unless he personally orders me to report to you, I'll do no such thing."

Severus raised an eyebrow at Lucius and reminded him, "You aren't currently in any position to keep deliberately snubbing His favorites, Lucius."

Lucius kept his expression impassive and didn't look anywhere near Sev's direction when he asked, "Was someone speaking just now? I thought I heard something but it must've just been the house shifting."

Severus scoffed and muttered, "Mature."

"Just tell me," Harry cut in, "and if it's so time-sensitive, I can send the message right to him through our connection."

"Perhaps I don't trust you to relay this particular message and his response honestly," Lucius said.

Harry furrowed his brow and asked, "And why would that be?"

Lucius gave him a humorless smile and didn't answer.

Harry rolled his eyes and finally said, "Fine, he's at the Ministry setting up a press conference to announce the truce."

"Thank you," Lucius said in the most insincere tone possible as he stepped towards the fireplace. Ron and Ginny backed away as he approached. Lucius picked up the canister of floo powder, and Harry and Severus traded an amused glance as he tried and failed to open it due to Sev's sealing and locking spells. Lucius took out his wand, muttering under his breath, but before he managed to unseal the canister, the floo suddenly flared to life.

Voldemort, still wearing the glamour, stepped out of the flames and gave the room and its occupants a cursory once-over before zeroing in on Harry and ignoring everyone else. His expression was one of those neutral masks that actually meant he was upset about something. "Harry—with me," he ordered before striding towards their bedroom door. Harry blinked but followed, after a nervous glance towards his friends and then Severus.

"My Lord," Lucius said hurriedly, "I have something urgent to report—"

"Then report it," Voldemort said, not pausing in his stride.

Lucius quickly said, "The Weasley twins came back with two other Order members and tried to break through the wards, using those fireworks as a distraction."

Harry and Voldemort both paused and turned around, almost in unison. In his peripheral vision, Harry caught Severus giving the two of them a mildly disturbed look.

Voldemort asked Lucius, "And?"

"The wards did their job—three of the four are unconscious from the backlash, and the other one is currently in a stand-off with Bellatrix just outside the front gate."

Harry's insides went cold. "Tom—"

Voldemort's expression was pinched, and he rubbed at his temple in annoyance. "Harry," he interrupted tersely, "tell your friends goodbye, they're leaving." Tom turned and walked towards Ron and Ginny instead.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded, hurrying to catch up to him and put himself between Voldemort and his friends. Voldemort paused, giving Harry an odd look for his behavior.

"Sending them home," Voldemort said slowly, "I just said that."

Harry tilted his head and gave him a suspicious look, "And that's all?" he asked.

Voldemort blinked and flatly said, "Yes." Then he switched to Parseltongue and irritably asked, "Have I done something to warrant this sudden mistrust?"

"No,"Harry hissed back, "You're just, you know, in a mood. It makes me nervous."

"Fine," Voldemort snapped, switching back to English and grasping Harry's arm to tug him along for the last dozen or so steps to reach Ron and Ginny. "Come with us then," he told Harry before glancing at Ron and Ginny instead and elaborating, "We're Apparating to the front gate, and you'll be leaving with whomever your brothers brought here."

"What about Hermione?" Ron asked, braving a glance at Voldemort.

"She isn't a prisoner here," Voldemort replied, "but she shouldn't be moved while she's recovering."

"Actually, she's awake now," Harry told Tom, "and Sev said she's going to be all right."

"Good," Voldemort said, before looking back at Ron and adding, "She's free to leave if she wants. So far, she's chosen not to."

Ron didn't look convinced, but then Ginny touched his arm and said quietly, "Ron, I asked her if she really wanted to stay—that's what I whispered when we were saying goodbye. She said she did."

Ron seemed to deflate a bit, but he nodded and stopped protesting.

"Well," Voldemort said impatiently, "now that that's sorted. Take my arm and let's go," he said, holding an arm each towards Ron and Ginny. Ron reluctantly took his right, but Ginny took hold of Ron's other arm instead.

"I'd rather hold on to Ron, thanks," she said in a quietly defiant tone.

"There's a greater risk of splinching that way, but suit yourself," Voldemort said, hooking his left arm around Harry's waist and pulling him against his side. "Everyone hold on," he said, before Apparating them all to the gate.

Fortunately, no one was splinched.

Even more fortunately (in Harry's opinion, at least) the pop of their Apparation distracted Bellatrix from her duel for the split-second that Tonks needed to hit her with a Stunner. Bellatrix fell backwards through the gate as if it were made of smoke, landing safely back inside the wards.

Voldemort frowned at her unconscious form, then shot an irritated look at Tonks, who had paled considerably but kept her wand raised and pointed towards him.

"Don't hurt her,"Harry immediately hissed in Parseltongue, wondering what the hell she was doing fighting when she knew she was pregnant. Harry was strongly of the opinion that she and Lupin should both be somewhere safe and far away from potential skirmishes, not running headlong into them.

"Wotcher, Harry," she greeted, but with a more subdued tone than usual.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

Tonks nodded towards an unconscious Fred, George, and Bill Weasley, then said, "Well, when Remus came home obviously Imperiused, I went to check on things at the new Headquarters and found that lot talking about a supposed truce and planning a rescue mission, so I tagged along."

"Well," Voldemort said dryly, "consider them rescued." With a hand on Ron's shoulder, he nudged him towards the gate. Ron looked at Harry and hesitated, but then Voldemort ordered, "Go on, both of you."

Ginny looked at Voldemort and then at Harry before grabbing Ron's hand and tugging him towards the gate without a word. Ron glanced over his shoulder and raised his free hand in a silent wave.

Harry gave him an encouraging smile, then said, "I'll see you at Hogwarts, yeah?"

"Right," Ron said as he walked away, wearing a forced-looking smile. "Take care of Hermione, all right?"

"She can take care of herself, Ron," Harry said, "but you know I'll do what I can."

Ron nodded, and after the two of them had passed through the gate to stand beside Tonks, Ginny finally looked back at Harry and said, "I really hope you know what you're doing."

Harry gave her a tight smile and said, "I do."

Ginny looked away, and Tonks commented, "Well. That was almost too easy." She still had her wand pointed in Voldemort's general direction, looking anxious and pale and ready throw a Protego up at any second.

Voldemort cleared his throat and said, "Aren't you two forgetting something?" while pulling Ron and Ginny's wands from his robe pocket.

Ron blinked, looking embarrassed, then stepped back towards Voldemort and Harry to collect them—and bumped right into the gate, which had re-solidified to deny him entry.

"What the—?" Ron spluttered, nearly losing his balance.

Voldemort smirked and said, "Lucius gave you the lowest guest clearance—which expires once you leave the Manor's grounds."

"Could've warned me," Ron muttered.

"Where would be the fun in that?" Voldemort asked, stepping forward to hand Ron the wands through a gap in the gate's bars. He nodded towards the charred remains of the basket of contraband lying on the ground and added unsympathetically, "It appears the rest of your items were destroyed when the fireworks went off."

"Right." Ron took the wands and then backed away, still looking miffed.

Voldemort turned his attention to Tonks instead, and asked, "Do they require healing?" as he nodded towards the other three unconscious Weasleys.

Tonks blinked and tilted her head curiously, clearly at a loss for how to react to a civil Dark Lord. She cautiously replied, "No offence, but our lot can handle that."

"Are they hurt though? Are you hurt?" Harry asked, stepping closer to stand beside Voldemort and trying to get a better look.

"They just got knocked out by the wards," Tonks answered, her worried gaze shifting back and forth between Harry and Voldemort. "And I'm fine—Lestrange was being weirdly non-lethal."

"Perhaps you were boring her," Voldemort suggested. "She once tied her wand hand behind her back and dueled left-handed during a raid, just to make the fight more interesting."

Tonks' eyebrows went up, and Harry glanced at Voldemort, wondering if it was true—obviously Tom wasn't going to tell the Order that he'd restricted Bellatrix's magic, but at the same time, it sounded like something she would totally do.

"That's…kind of insane," Tonks said awkwardly.

Voldemort hummed in agreement, then said just as casually, "Are you waiting for an invitation to tea, or are you going to take your Weasleys and leave before my benevolence expires?"

Tonks blinked, then turned a concerned and reluctant look towards Harry.

"I'm fine here," Harry told her, "and so is Hermione. Go on."

She hesitated another moment, then nodded at Harry and turned towards the fallen Weasleys. She dug something out of her pocket and handed it to Ron, saying "Hold that a mo' would you?" Tonks took three other objects out of her pocket—Harry couldn't tell what they were from this distance—and she placed one on top of each unconscious Weasley. Then she leaned close to Bill and whispered something that made him suddenly disappear. "Emergency Portkeys," Tonks said to reassure Ron and Ginny, who had gasped when their brother disappeared. Tonks repeated the process with Fred and George, then she walked back over to Ron and Ginny and held out her hand for the object she'd given Ron, which turned out to be a worn-looking Muggle wallet.

Ron placed the wallet in Tonks' hand, but left his own on top of it. Ginny stretched out a hand to touch the wallet too. Tonks glanced back at Harry one more time, forced a smile, and said "Good luck, Harry," before whispering the password that whisked the three of them away.

As soon as they were gone, Voldemort's demeanor shifted drastically—he dropped the aura of casual benevolence and replaced it with an unnervingly blank expression as he stalked over to Bellatrix's unconscious form and drew his wand.

"Ennervate," he snapped, waking her up. As soon as her eyes opened, he twitched his wand and silently cast something that pulled her to her feet in front of him.

Disoriented, she blinked and asked, "My Lord—?"

Voldemort reached out to grasp her chin and tilt her head up, forcing eye contact and presumably using Legilimency on her. After a quiet but tense moment, he released her and turned away without a word, striding back over to Harry and ignoring Bellatrix's inquisitive and slightly confused stare.

He took Harry's arm and Apparated back inside the Manor, directly into their bedroom.

"Tom?" Harry asked, a bit concerned by his behavior. "What's wrong?"

Voldemort dispelled the snake-face glamour with a silent twitch of his wand, then he finally made eye contact with Harry, dropping his mask of calmness and letting his agitation show again. "I took a slight detour after speaking with the Minister," he said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Do you remember Lucius' report the night we came here? That something was stolen from the Department of Mysteries last week but neither my spy there nor anyone else knew what it was?" Harry nodded, and Tom continued, "I've learned that the Ministry knew something was stolen because the wards were broken on a certain storage room that's always kept very securely locked. And since that first report, my spy has learned that this," he dug a small scrap of expensive-looking parchment out of his pocket and held it up, "was found laying on a dusty shelf inside the outline of whatever object was supposed to be sitting there."

Harry stepped closer and read the words on the parchment out loud. "Remember yet?" It was signed with '—G.' Harry blinked, then glanced up to meet Tom's eyes and asked, "You think it was Grindelwald?"

"I'm certain of it. And he's taunting us—he had to have left this note when he stole the object, which was before he even captured us."

"So what did he steal?"

Tom's expression grew pinched, and he said, "The inventory simply listed it as a 'banned interrogation device'."

Harry's eyebrows went up. "Like a torture thing?"

"Perhaps. No one seemed able to find any more details about it."

"All right, well," Harry said, in what he hoped was a calming tone, "we'll figure it out."

Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and snapped, "I hate this!"

"I know," Harry said quietly.

"The fact that he somehow captured us both is bad enough, but not knowing what else he might've done to us…"

"I know," Harry repeated. He sat down beside Tom on the bed, close enough that their shoulders touched. Tom tensed at first, but then leaned slightly into Harry and turned his head to make eye contact.

"You seem entirely too calm about this," Tom said in a tone that verged on accusatory.

Harry shrugged and said, "I guess by now I'm just used to not being in control of my life and having crazy and horrible things happen to me."

Tom blinked and looked away, his expression going blank but a bit rigid. Harry stared at him for a moment and wondered if Tom was feeling guilty again—Harry wasn't quite brave enough to risk prodding at their connection while Tom was clearly upset, not after what had happened last time. Harry hesitated, then silently reached for Tom's hand and entwined their fingers instead. "I, er, didn't mean that as a jab at you. I was just stating a fact."

After a moment Tom cleared his throat and said, "Everything's arranged for the press conference. A few carefully-chosen reporters have been notified and dispatched, and all Ministry employees are being corralled into the Atrium to bear witness as we speak. A temporary stage is being assembled there for us. The Minister has authorized the use of the emergency broadcast spell that will turn on every Wizarding Wireless in England for the duration of the announcement. Everything should be ready for us to begin in about an hour."

"All right," Harry said slowly, choosing not to call him out on the abrupt and unsubtle subject change. "We should probably make sure Sev and Malfoy haven't killed each other before we leave."

"And go over the speech."

"Right. And that," Harry said, suddenly nervous at the thought of giving even a small part of this speech that was going to make history. What if he stammered, or forgot his lines, or screwed it up some other way? The whole bloody Wizarding world was going to be listening.

"Harry," Tom said quietly, squeezing his hand even as he quirked an amused eyebrow at him. "You've braved far worse things than public speaking. The speech I have planned isn't very long or even very complicated. You'll be fine."

"Sure," Harry scoffed, annoyed with himself for apparently broadcasting his nervousness through their connection. "Even if I don't screw up the speech, everyone's going to hate me after this. It'll be second year all over again, with everyone saying I've gone Dark."

"Some will say that," Tom acknowledged, "but I imagine most people will be overwhelmingly grateful that you've managed to get the Dark Lord they're too terrified of to even name to agree to a truce." Tom paused for a moment, then said, "The extremists on both sides won't ever be pleased with a truce…To that end, I'm going to allow the more radical of my remaining followers to believe that I've converted you and that this is all a farce and a cover for a more insidious plan. And you need to maintain to the Order that you're using 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' to enforce the truce."

Harry nodded and said, "Ron and Ginny seemed to buy it. And I think Ginny still hates me right now, but Ron seemed to come around a bit."

"Good. They'll report back to the Order about the truce and the supposed 'power,' and everyone who showed up here today will report that I was perfectly civil and sane and didn't kill or torture anyone."

Harry raised an eyebrow and teased, "Setting yourself a low bar, there, aren't you?"

Tom's lips twitched into a half-smile, and he didn't reply. Instead he stood up, tugging Harry's hand until he followed, and headed for the door. "Come along. Let's check on Severus and Lucius."

"All right," Harry said, then he curiously asked, "Who do you think would win, if they actually went at it?"

"Severus," Tom answered immediately.

"Wow. You didn't even have to think about it?"

"I've taught him things the other Death Eaters couldn't even imagine," he said, his tone a strange mixture of pride and possessiveness.

Harry's eyebrows went up. "Okay then," he said, a bit disturbed.

Tom paused and looked at him. "What?"

"That just sounded a little—never mind. I really don't want to know." Harry reached for the doorknob, but Tom crossed his arms and leaned against the door so Harry couldn't open it.

He gave Harry a rather exasperated look and said "Severus has always been one of my favorites, but do try to get your mind out of the gutter. I was referring only to Dark Magic. Nothing more."

"Good to know," Harry said, secretly very relieved. "I mean, if things had gone differently with my parents, Sev would've been like my second dad. I think I'd be traumatized if you two had ever, you know."

Tom raised an eyebrow at him, then commented, "You get attached to people rather quickly, don't you?"

"Well, duh," Harry said. "Look at us."

"We're a special case," Tom said almost dismissively. "I meant other people—it was my understanding that you and Severus detested each other for years, yet now you're rather desperately trying to appoint him your father figure."

Harry shrugged and looked away. "It changed things, knowing about him and my parents."

"You did the same thing with Sirius Black," Tom continued, seeming genuinely curious to understand. "So eager to murder him one minute, then agreeing to move in with him the next."

Harry furrowed his brow and said, "How do you know that? You weren't around that year—did Wormtail tell you?" Wormtail had been chained to Lupin and Ron quite a ways ahead of Harry and Sirius at that point, and it seemed unlikely that he'd overheard their conversation. "Or did you pluck it out of my head?"

Tom's brow furrowed slightly, but he nonchalantly said, "Does it matter?"

"I don't know, does it?" Harry returned. "That's the second time you've just casually blurted out details about my life that you weren't around for." Tom gave him a questioning look, and Harry elaborated, "You told Sev about me wrecking Dumbledore's office—I don't remember telling you about that or about that talk with Sirius."

Tom blinked, then murmured, "Dreams and déjà vu and unexplained knowledge."

"What?"

"The book I showed you earlier about Obliviation and recovering protected memories," Tom reminded him, looking thoughtful.

Harry frowned slightly and said, "So, what, you think we sat around and had a chat about my godfather and my temper before Grindelwald Oblivated us? And that somehow you would've thought those memories were worth trying to save?"

Tom shrugged and said, "I would've tried to save as much as possible, regardless of what it was, for the sheer purpose of not letting him take it from me."

Harry smirked a little and said, "Yeah, that sounds like you."

"Brat."

Harry's smirk stretched into a full grin at the fondness in Tom's tone, but then he looked pointedly at the door Tom was still leaning against and asked, "Are you planning to keep me locked in the bedroom forever?"

Tom's lips twitched into a smile. "Don't tempt me," he said. He simply looked at Harry for a few moments before his expression shifted into something more serious, and he asked out of nowhere, "When you were in the Chamber of Secrets, did you happen to find Slytherin's private library?"

Harry blinked, surprised by the question. "There's a library down there?"

"That's a 'no' then," Tom said, sounding amused. "Unless you managed to destroy it somehow, there is a library and a private set of rooms hidden behind the giant statue of Slytherin's face."

"Oh. No, I didn't destroy the statue."

"Good. I've been thinking that we should return to Hogwarts a few weeks early—to collect the other Horcruxes, obviously, but also to go through Slytherin's library and his research journals in-depth."

"Research journals?" Harry asked, curious and also pleased by the thought of going back to Hogwarts sooner.

"Oh yes. Fascinating things—it's a pity I didn't have more time to read through them as a student, but Slytherin put all sorts of paranoid protective spells on them—only his heirs can read them in the first place, and trying to magically duplicate or copy the journals has…unpleasant consequences. As does trying to carry them out of his private library."

"You think there might be something there that'll help you figure out the ritual?"

"Possibly. The journals I skimmed covered a wide range of topics—blood rituals, mind magic, possession, research on ghosts, treatises on blood purity and magical heritage," Harry rolled his eyes at that one but Tom ignored him and continued, "and quite a lot of speculation about death. He even secretly invented a prototypical spell to counter the unblockable Killing Curse."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Does it work?"

"No one's ever tested it, to my knowledge. I memorized it, of course, but even at my lowest point, I've never been insane enough to have someone toss a Killing Curse at me so I can try out an untested spell."

"Hmm," Harry hummed in a neutral tone while glancing up at Tom. It was a rather ironic paradox—if Tom tried the spell and it worked then he would be truly invincible, but if it failed it would mean certain death. Not permanent death, not for Voldemort—he still had Horcruxes—but he'd said the years he'd spent as a formless spirit had been agonizing. The thought of Tom having experienced that was profoundly, almost viscerally disturbing to Harry, and the possibility of it happening again sent a chill through him. "How—?" Harry asked, before pausing and considering how to actually ask this. "Erm, just hypothetically—if you did test the spell and it didn't work, or if something else happened…Is that ritual from the graveyard the best way to bring you back?"

Tom blinked, then his eyes caught Harry's in an intense stare. "You would bring me back?" he asked, his tone managing to sound soft and hungry at the same time.

Harry nodded, sparing only a fleeting thought to how horrified his past-self would've been at the prospect, then without breaking the stare and without a trace of doubt he replied, "Ride or die."

Tom practically pounced on him, capturing Harry's lips in a heated kiss and pressing Harry's back to the wall beside the door. Harry made a surprised "Mmph!" noise that was muffled by Tom's lips, but he kissed back immediately. Tom's hands came up first to cradle Harry's face, stroking his thumbs along his cheekbones, and then they crept further up to tangle in his messy hair and tilt his head for a better angle to deepen the kiss.

When both of them were breathless, Tom pulled back only far enough to trail his gaze over Harry's face, as if studying each feature and committing them to memory, before meeting his eyes again with a look that was at once hungry and possessive and fascinated. "You—" Tom said, his tone bordering on reverent. Harry found himself pinned by that stare, every bit as enthralled as Tom. He felt a wave of Tom's (don't call it love, Harry reminded himself) obsessive affection passing through their connection, and Harry's eyes slipped closed while he savored it before sending an answering wave of his own back, making Tom's breath hitch for a moment. After an infinity of milliseconds, Tom spoke again, this time with his tone a bit frayed around the edges. "I find it…inconceivable now," he confessed, "that I ever wanted to destroy you." One of Tom's hands absently carded through Harry's hair, and the other cupped Harry's cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across Harry's lower lip. Harry leaned into the touch, and Tom murmured, "We were never meant to kill each other…we were meant for each other."

Harry breathed, "Yes," and he surged forward to kiss Tom, pouring everything into it and wondering if Tom could taste the three words that Harry was forcing himself not to say.

After a very, very long and indulgent moment, Tom broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Harry's, then he murmured, "I hate to ruin the mood but we are on a rather tight schedule, remember?" He pulled back, and Harry reluctantly let him step away. Tom smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes, then did the same for Harry and added, "And to answer your question—the ritual from the graveyard isn't the best way, but it's the easiest. You would have to create a golem first for me to possess, if my original body was too damaged to return to. And your role in the ritual would be quite different from last time."

"I'd be the servant," Harry said, grimacing. "You'd grow me back a real hand, right? I don't think I'd like having a metal one."

Tom chuckled and said, "Just a finger would suffice, Harry." He reached out to catch Harry's left hand and lightly stroked his fingertip along the underside of Harry's pinky finger. "I told Wormtail to cut off the entire hand because I was rather cross with him at the time."

Harry snorted in amusement at the pettiness, and Tom just shrugged, unapologetic.

"So what is the best way, then?" Harry asked after a moment.

"We can discuss it later," Tom said, leaning in to press a brief kiss to Harry's lips. "We're wasting time."

"All right," Harry said reluctantly.

Tom finally opened the door…and froze. Harry peered past him into the sitting room—where one of the sofas was on fire, every chair had been flung to one side of the room, the window next to the dining table was shattered and the dining table itself was overturned. Nagini was hissing angrily from where she'd been marooned on top of the mantle over the fireplace, the door to the main corridor was flung wide open, and across the room near Hermione's (thankfully closed) door Severus was sitting on the floor. Draco was crouched next to him with his wand pressed to Sev's arm, and he seemed to be healing him. Lucius was nowhere to be seen.

"What," Tom demanded in a chilling voice, "in the seven hells happened here?"

Severus and Draco both startled and looked apprehensively at Tom.

Severus found his voice first. He cleared his throat and casually answered, "Lucius and I had a slight disagreement." Then he smirked and added, "He lost."

Tom closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled, then strode over to the fireplace to rescue Nagini from the mantle. Harry could feel Tom's fury thrumming in the background through their connection. Nagini slithered onto Tom's shoulders, and he asked her, "Who threw you up there?"

Nagini hissed back, "Lucius... Can I eat him, Master?"

Tom stroked one hand along Nagini's scales and said, "You have my permission to bite him next time you see him. Just not fatally."Then he carried her over to the room that seemed to be hers and opened the door to take her inside.

Harry took the opportunity to walk over to Draco and Severus. "What the hell?" he asked, though he was much more amused by the chaos than Tom.

Draco gave him a look and said dramatically, "Potter, don't ever leave me alone with those two again!" Then he stood up and stormed away, taking refuge in Hermione's room and closing the door again behind him.

Harry laughed and asked Severus, "Seriously, what happened?"

Severus shook his head and said brusquely, "It doesn't matter."

"Then just tell me," Harry wheedled. He offered him a hand, and Severus rather begrudgingly took it and let Harry help him to his feet.

The sound of a door closing made Harry look over his shoulder in time to see Tom striding across the room towards Harry and Severus, silently waving his wand to put out the fire and repair the damage to the room as he went. It was impressive and also intimidating because he still looked furious.

"Severus," Tom demanded when he stopped in front of him, "explain this. Now."

Severus blinked, schooling his expression into something impassive before glancing at the floor and answering, "Lucius made some disparaging remarks about Harry's mother," he said, pausing a moment before adding with finality, "I made him regret it."

Tom sighed and rubbed one hand over his eyes. "Is he alive?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Is he functional?"

"Was he ever?" Severus deadpanned.

Tom's eyes narrowed and he flung some kind of silent hex at Severus, which knocked him back a few steps and made him wince in pain.

"Hey!" Harry protested, giving Tom a shocked glare.

Tom ignored him and told Severus, "I am not in the mood for your impudence right now. How badly is Lucius injured?"

Severus hesitated a moment, then admitted, "He had some superficial cuts and a dislocated shoulder. The duel ended when I landed a tongue-severing curse and he fled." Severus nodded towards the main door.

Tom took another deep breath and seemed to calm down a bit more. "All right. No permanent damage then—the tongue can be reattached or regrown." He glanced at Severus again and asked, "And yourself?"

"No permanent damage," Severus echoed. "My arm was broken but Draco healed it."

Tom looked him over briefly and then raised his wand. Severus tensed, seeming to expect punishment, and Harry prepared himself to jump between the two of them but then Tom said, "I'll just run a few diagnostics to make sure," and he waited for Sev's brief nod before he started casting. Tom cast a few different spells and then frowned with his wand hovering over Sev's left ribs. "Did you not realize two of your ribs are cracked?"

Severus frowned and said, "They just felt bruised to me."

Tom tsked and said, "Yes, that's the downside of having a high pain tolerance—I know I've told you before to always run the full set of diagnostic spells after dueling. Come closer and stand still." Severus hesitated for a fraction of a second, then did as instructed. Tom held his wand close to the ribs and chanted a healing spell. Afterwards, Tom ran the diagnostic spell again, then pulled away and said, "Good as new."

"Thank you, My Lord," Severus said quietly.

Tom looked at him for a moment, then said casually, "You might as well get used to calling me Tom again, Severus."

Severus blinked and looked at him warily for a moment. Then, after just a bit too much silence had passed for it to sound natural, he said quietly, "Of course—Tom."

Tom smiled, ignoring the awkwardness. He glanced from Severus' newly healed ribs to where Harry stood silently at his side, then Tom met Severus' eyes and said pointedly and almost cheerfully, "This brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Severus' expression shuttered into cold blankness so quickly that Harry's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"Quite," Severus said, although his tone seemed to say 'back the fuck off.'

Tom raised an eyebrow and continued in a deceptively mild tone, "I was just thinking that Harry might be interested in hearing that particular story. I obviously can't tell him," he said pointedly. "Perhaps you could, sometime?"

"Perhaps," Severus said in the same tone as before.

Harry blinked and realized that Tom must be talking about the favor he'd mentioned before—the one he'd taken an Oath not to speak about in detail. He wondered again why Tom seemed so determined for Severus to tell him about it, but he decided that it didn't matter—judging from Sev's expression he certainly didn't want to talk about it, and Harry had no intention of making him.

"Hey," Harry said, stepping closer and nudging his elbow against Tom's arm. "Thought we were on a tight schedule? Story time can wait."

"Of course," Tom said, feigning nonchalance. He looked briefly at Severus again before stepping around him and knocking on the door to Hermione's room. Harry tried to catch Sev's eye but Severus looked away.

After a moment, Draco opened the door and swallowed nervously when he saw Tom.

"Sir?" he asked, stepping out of the room and closing the door.

"Go fetch some of your dress robes for Harry to borrow. Nothing too gaudy, and no reds or greens. Something blue, or grey perhaps," Tom said.

Tom and Draco both glanced over at him appraisingly, and Harry found himself blushing under their scrutiny.

Draco timidly said, "But green, with his eyes, would really—"

Tom turned back to Draco and interrupted, "Yes, but presenting the Chosen One in Slytherin colors at the announcement of a truce with me isn't the message that we want to send, Draco. People are already going to wonder whether he's switched sides—we don't need to visually encourage their suspicions."

"Why not red, then?" Harry asked. "Gryffindor colors? Reassure them that I haven't changed?"

Tom gave him a wry look and said, "Because if nothing's changed at all, that would mean you're still fighting me, and that would encourage rebellion."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I think you're putting way too much thought into this. It's just robes."

Tom corrected, "It's optics. And it's a vital part of conveying our intended message."

Harry rolled his eyes and muttered, "If you say so."

Draco nervously looked back and forth between the two of them before clearing his throat and quietly suggesting, "Something purple would bring out his eyes too—I have a set of robes from last Yule—"

"No," Tom interrupted.

"What's wrong with purple?" Harry asked in a teasing, sarcastic tone, "Is it going to subtly suggest that I'm under mind control?"

Tom sniffed and said, "No, purple just reminds me of Dumbledore."

Harry snorted and tried unsuccessfully to hold back laughter.

"I don't find it funny," Tom said flatly, but Harry felt a contradictory hint of amusement coming through Tom's side of their link.

"Yes you do," Harry teased. "You're laughing on the inside."

Tom arched an eyebrow at him and simply said, "Prove it." Then he turned to Draco and said, "What are you waiting for? Go and bring back some robes for Harry to choose from."

Draco nodded and hurried out of the room to comply.

Severus, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange, quietly asked, "Am I excused?" Harry looked over again and was a bit concerned by his blank, stony expression.

Tom raised an eyebrow at him and answered, "I suppose."

Severus nodded and headed for the fireplace without another word, but Harry frowned and followed him, catching up halfway across the room. Harry grabbed his arm and said, "Sev, hang on." When Severus paused, Harry lowered his voice and asked, "Are you all right? You don't have to tell me whatever story Tom's talking about, I won't—"

Severus interrupted in an equally quiet but bitter tone, "I know you won't insist—but it's not really up to you, is it, Potter?"

Harry frowned, then said, "Yeah, well—I'll work on him." He tried to force a smile, which went unreturned as expected, then he joked, "I'll 'use the power' and everything."

That startled a short laugh out of Severus, who said after a moment, "You're as incorrigible as your father."

Harry smiled at the hint of fondness in what would've otherwise sounded like an insult, and he replied, "Thanks."

Severus finally met Harry's eyes for a brief moment, wearing an inscrutable expression. Severus nodded, then turned and walked towards the fireplace. He spelled the floo canister open, then threw a handful of powder into the fireplace and stepped into the flames. Harry didn't hear his destination.

Tom cleared his throat, and Harry turned back around in time to see him conjure a piece of parchment and a quill. "Shall we go over the speech? I promise it's not as complicated or as grueling as you're expecting."

Harry sighed, and finally agreed to just get it over with.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Standing backstage in the Ministry Atrium, Harry's anxiety was starting to return. Tom had managed to put him at ease back at the Manor, after he'd given Harry a brief and rather rushed preview of the speech—he'd even grudgingly made a few edits after Harry pointed out places where it sounded too evil overlord-y. It wasn't that long of a speech and Harry barely had to talk, so he'd convinced himself before they left the Manor that it wouldn't be too big of a deal.

But now, staring out through the heavy curtain that had been spelled to give everyone backstage complete privacy while letting them view the crowd through the shimmery semi-transparent material, Harry was quickly growing nervous again. There were so many people—a few hundred at least—he'd thought Tom was exaggerating when he'd said all of the Ministry employees would be there, but evidently not.

The crowd filled the entire Atrium, and there was a constant dull roar of their chattering while they waited. At the front of the crowd, just below the stage, there was a line of Aurors standing guard—except they weren't all Aurors—half of them were Death Eaters undercover in Auror robes who were serving as extra protection for Tom and Harry. There was one posted at every exit as well, and a few who would remain backstage. Harry didn't recognize most of them, and honestly he couldn't even tell the real Aurors from the fake ones. He wished that Severus could've come along, but Tom had immediately vetoed that since he wanted Severus to remain Headmaster of Hogwarts and claimed that Severus' presence at the announcement would not be conducive to that. Harry had argued that Sev could hide his face behind a Death Eater mask, but Tom said that no one would be wearing that particular garb today, so as not to panic the masses. Hermione still needed to rest, and Harry's suggestion for Draco to accompany them had been likewise shot down.

So here he was, standing off by himself behind the curtain and nervously fidgeting with the mysterious Snitch Dumbledore had left him in the pocket of his borrowed dress robes (a navy blue ensemble of Draco's that Tom had carefully resized to fit). Somewhere behind him just out of earshot, Voldemort (once again wearing the snake-faced glamour, along with elegant black dress robes) was discussing something with Minister Thicknesse.

Harry had met the man briefly, and he'd seemed like the least annoying of the Ministers that Harry had met—polite, respectful, well-spoken, and he seemed competent if also a bit conniving. But when he'd shaken Harry's hand, he'd held on for an uncomfortably long time and he'd gotten a rather desperate look in his eyes. When Harry managed to reclaim his hand and walk away, he'd whispered to Tom that he thought the Minister was trying to fight the Imperius—Tom had nodded at Harry and then steered the Minister away to personally renew the Unforgivable before discussing a few of the policy changes he wanted. The encounter left Harry feeling a bit shaken and guilty—the Minister had clearly thought Harry would help him, and instead he'd turned the man over to Voldemort. The entire Wizarding world was probably going to view this truce the same way—they would see the Chosen One they'd counted on to defeat Voldemort giving up and working with him instead.

Harry let out an agitated sigh, and jumped when a hand suddenly rested on his shoulder.

Voldemort arched a hairless brow at him, and Harry laughed and tried to play it off. "Sorry, just—nerves."

"No it's not," Voldemort said matter-of-factly. Blasted connection.

Harry sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, then admitted, "No it's not. It's—he expected me to help him," Harry said, gesturing back towards the Minister who was now calmly signing a floating parchment. "He thought he could trust me, and I just handed him over to you. And," Harry gestured towards the translucent curtain and the crowd beyond, "they're all going to see this truce as the same thing. They've all been counting on me to save them—"

"Harry," Voldemort interrupted, turning Harry to face him and putting both hands on his shoulders, which was as intimate as they could risk being due to the handful of intermingled Aurors and Death Eaters who were also backstage and curiously watching from a distance, "you are saving them—we're ending a war."

Harry nodded automatically, even though he was still anxious and guilty and not entirely convinced. He reached up and put both of his hands on top of Tom's where they rested on Harry's shoulders, taking comfort in the mild hum of pleasure from their connection, which still sparked faintly whenever they touched—Voldemort allowed it for about half a second before subtly shaking his head and pulling away. A spike of frustration shot through Harry at not being able to touch his bloody partner or boyfriend or soulmate or whatever the hell they were, and he crossed his arms and stared down at the floor for a long moment before Voldemort spoke again.

"I could put you under the Imperius, if it would make this easier for you," Voldemort offered quietly, though he sounded a bit uncertain. "It would take away the anxiety and doubt and guilt."

Harry blinked, and pointed out, "I can fight it off."

"You can…but you don't have to."

Harry gave him a humorless smile and said, "But if I chose not to fight it, I would still be responsible for my actions. And I'd just feel guiltier for trying to lie to myself."

"All right," Voldemort conceded, frowning slightly as if still a bit puzzled by how guilt worked. "Just thought I'd offer."

"Well, thanks but no thanks," Harry said, then he laughed nervously and added, "I don't even know why I'm feeling this way. This is all just so sudden, and so—I dunno," Harry said, trailing off at a loss to find the right word.

"Momentous?" Voldemort supplied.

"Yeah, that."

Voldemort caught Harry's eyes and just looked at him for a moment before adding, "If you're planning to go off-script, I would appreciate a warning."

"No, the script is fine, I'll stick to it," Harry said. "I'm just being stupid, it'll pass," he added, forcing a smile. "Just ignore me."

Voldemort leaned slightly closer, and Harry automatically tilted his chin up despite knowing there was no chance of Tom kissing him in public. "You," Voldemort said, his lips twitching in the slightest of smiles, "have always been impossible to ignore."

Harry's forced smile turned genuine and he was about to reply when a flash of light went off, and a nearby voice said, "Well, this looks cozy."

Harry blinked and glanced over to find Rita Skeeter standing a few meters away, holding a camera that was attached to a strap worn around her neck.

"Ms. Skeeter," Voldemort said coldly. Harry glanced over to see that Tom had both his wand and an irritable glare pointed at Skeeter. "You very nearly got a face full of Fiendfyre just now. I would advise you not to sneak up on us again."

Skeeter held up her hands as if in surrender, letting the camera fall against her chest, then she boldly stepped closer as she pulled out a notepad and the detested Quick Quotes Quill. If Skeeter was the least bit scared or intimidated by Voldemort, she wasn't showing it—Harry could almost admire her for that.

"My apologies, Your Lordship," Skeeter said in that sickeningly fake voice that Harry hated, "but I thought you'd be expecting me. I was told that I was specifically requested."

"You were invited here to discuss your book about Dumbledore with Harry and I after the announcement," Voldemort said, "not to sneak backstage and take candid photos of us. Go wait out front with the rest of the press."

The Quick Quotes Quill started scratching out sentences and Harry leaned towards Tom and said under his breath, "Hit that quill with some Fiendfyre—it exaggerates everything and makes things up about 'tears glistening in his orphan eyes' and all kinds of tripe."

Voldemort gave Harry a dubious but slightly amused look before twitching his wand and wordlessly summoning both the quill and the top page of the notepad, which ripped away and flew into his waiting hand. Rita frowned but wasn't stupid enough to protest. Harry leaned closer to Voldemort to read the page along with him.

'After receiving confirmation that today's announcement is regarding a most unexpected truce between He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Harry Potter, this reporter found the unlikely pair backstage having a friendly chat and looking entirely comfortable and, dare I say, even affectionate with each other. One wonders whether young Harry might be seeking a paternal connection with the very man who killed his parents that fateful night, and one suspects, based on this witnessed interaction, that You Know Who might actually be receptive to such a relationship.'

"Oh gross," Harry said, ignoring the rest of the drivel and leveling a glare at Skeeter while Tom kept reading. "I'm not trying to replace my parents with Voldemort. If you print that or anything else that ridiculous, I'll happily tell everyone about your little secret."

Skeeter frowned, then she and Harry both jumped a little when Voldemort suddenly Incendio'd the piece of paper in his hand and silently crumbled the Quick Quotes Quill into dust.

"What secret might that be?" Voldemort asked.

Harry glanced around for eavesdroppers, but the Minister and the handful of Auror-robed Death Eaters were clear across the backstage area guarding the exits at both ends. Harry met Voldemort's eyes and said quietly, "She's an unregistered Animagus. She gets her 'exclusive scoops' by spying on people as a beetle."

Voldemort looked pleased and asked, "You have proof of this?"

"Hermione does," Harry told him.

Voldemort smiled and glanced at Skeeter. "Well, then. Ms. Skeeter, it seems prudent that we come to an arrangement—namely, that you won't print or otherwise circulate anything about Harry or myself without first getting my approval. Including that photo. Understood?"

Skeeter pasted on a clearly fake smile and said, "Of course."

Voldemort's smile grew cold and he added, "And the next time you dare to spy on either of us, it will be your last."

Skeeter's fake smile faltered, and she swallowed nervously before saying, "Understood."

"Good. Now get out."

Skeeter nodded and made a bee-line for the exit.

Once she was gone, Harry glanced at Voldemort and nervously asked, "She was spying on us?"

"She must've been. She'd written that she had confirmation about the truce—everyone who knows was forbidden from discussing it until after the announcement." Harry and Tom, however, had mentioned the truce while Tom was attempting to calm him down. "And a beetle could've easily flown past the Aurors to get backstage."

"We didn't, er, say anything too revealing, did we?" Harry asked, trying to mentally replay their conversation.

"Fortunately, no. Although you touching my hands like that wasn't wise."

Harry rolled his eyes. "At least her mind went with 'parental' instead of, you know."

"Indeed," Voldemort said, glancing to the left as something caught his attention.

Harry turned to look, and saw the Minister walking towards them with a roll of parchment in hand.

"As you requested, Your Lordship," said Thicknesse, handing the parchment to Voldemort, who unrolled it and skimmed its contents.

Harry leaned closer to read it as well—the words OFFICIAL MINISTRY PARDONS headed the page, and there was a short paragraph and then a list of names—Lord Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange… Harry stopped reading and asked increduously, "Pardons for you and all of the Death Eaters?"

"Not all of them," Voldemort said. "I won't be outing anyone who wasn't already publically known to be a Death Eater. Also, those who fled or rebelled when I told them of the truce are not on this list. Nor is a certain person who was otherwise exonerated, since their presence on this list at this point would be more damning than helpful."

Harry thought for a moment before it came to him. "My, er, honorary step-parent?" he guessed.

"Yes."

Harry glanced back down at the list and skimmed it, before suddenly saying, "I want Sirius Black posthumously pardoned." He glanced from Tom to the Minister, and added, "He wasn't a Death Eater or a murderer. Peter Pettigrew killed all of those people and faked his own death."

The Minister blinked, then looked to Voldemort for instructions.

Voldemort looked at Harry for a long moment and seemed to be considering the pros and cons of it. Finally he looked at the Minister and said, "Do it. File the paperwork but keep it quiet for now. And leave Pettigrew's name out of it for the time being—Wormtail still has his uses."

"Of course," the Minister agreed.

Harry frowned—the whole point was to prove Sirius' innocence, and he would've loved to throw Wormtail to the wolves—but he supposed it was better than nothing.

Minister Thicknesse glanced at his watch, then said, "It's nearly time. The security measures are all in place—the Ministry's usual Anti-Apparition wards are up, the Aurors have been forewarned and sworn to secrecy, there's a Protego Totalum over the stage area, and of course all of the Ministry workers in the audience were required to leave their wands with the Security Desk before entering. Only the Aurors and Death Eaters standing guard were allowed to keep their wands, as you instructed. The emergency broadcast spell for the Wireless is active as well," he said pointing to a floating microphone near the front of the stage. "We can begin—unless Your Lordship would like more time to prepare?"

Voldemort glanced over and asked, "Harry?"

Harry shook his head and said, "I'm good. Let's get this over with." His left hand crept back into his pocket to fidget with the Snitch that Dumbledore had left him. Hermione had told him that having some kind of object to fiddle with was supposed to help with anxiety during public speaking, and Tom had told him to keep the Snitch on him at all times, so it seemed like a perfect way to multitask.

"Wonderful," the Minister said, clapping his hands together. "I'll introduce you."

Voldemort nodded and Thicknesse stepped away towards the center of the stage curtains, slipping between them and out into view on the stage while Harry and Voldemort remained hidden behind the privacy curtain. An immediate hush fell over the crowd, while the Aurors seemed to stand a little more at attention, and the press started snapping pictures. Harry spotted Rita Skeeter out there among them, and decided it was safe to stand a bit closer to Voldemort's side while they watched through the bespelled curtains.

Thicknesse spread his hands and announced, "Friends, colleagues, members of the press, witches and wizards listening at home—we are gathered here today to witness history being made." He paused for dramatic effect, and to let the photographers snap a few pictures.

Harry huffed a laugh and said, "For a second there, that almost sounded like the speech they give at weddings."

Voldemort glanced over and asked, "Dropping hints again, Harry?"

"What? Oh—no!" Harry said, laughing again. "Don't you dare fake-propose again—we're going to horrify everyone enough with just the truce."

Voldemort smirked and looked back out towards the crowd.

"For years," Thicknesse intoned dramatically, "for decades, our world has been embroiled in an insidious civil war. Our society has clashed over principles and politics and, yes, purity of blood. I am most pleased to tell you that today this war ends." A murmur rose through the crowd but quieted when the Minister raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. "Today, we move away from open conflict and towards reconciliation." He paused, then said, "I see dubious faces in the crowd—that's understandable. Fortunately, you don't have to take my word for it, as we have two very special guests with us today."

Harry swallowed and muttered, "Fuck, here we go."

Voldemort discreetly nudged the back of his hand against Harry's in a movement that would look accidental to any witnesses, and quietly replied, "Chin up, show confidence. This is our show, Harry."

Thicknesse continued, "Our guests have come peacefully, with a very important and joyous announcement that will benefit the entire Wizarding world. I ask you all to remain calm and attentive, and to recognize that you are witnessing history today. Without further ado," Harry just barely held back a snort, and the Minister dramatically finished, "I present to you—the Dark Lord and Harry Potter!"

Harry swallowed nervously and then Tom's hand was on his upper back, guiding him through the break in the curtains and out onto the stage amid the gasps and shocked murmuring of the crowd and the flashes of several cameras. They walked side-by-side to where the Minister stood waiting, and then they each shook his hand in turn while the photographers snapped a million pictures. After the handshakes, the Minister retreated to stand near the back of the stage, out of their way but still visible behind them so as to show the Ministry's support (or so Tom had explained earlier—optics again). Isolated camera flashes kept going off sporadically every few seconds from the area roped off for the press front-and-center, and Harry did his best to ignore them.

Voldemort casually raised a hand and swept it towards the audience, casting an overpowered Silencio that blanketed the entire crowd. Harry blinked as everything went quiet, then muttered under his breath, "Show off."

Voldemort's lips twitched in a hint of a smile, but he quietly scolded, "We're on air, Harry."

Harry glanced at the floating microphone and wondered whether it had picked that up, then he blushed and went silent. His left hand snuck into his pocket to nervously clutch the Snitch.

Voldemort, on the other hand, took a step closer to the microphone and smoothly began, "For those of you listening at home, this is Lord Voldemort speaking. Harry Potter is standing beside me, unharmed and here of his own free will." He paused to let that sink in, then continued, "Now, some of you listening right now—particularly those of you belonging to a certain Order—are no doubt grabbing your wands and preparing to storm the Ministry for some kind of dramatic battle. I assure you there is no need for such foolish theatrics. As the Minister said—today, the war ends." He let the silence hang dramatically, then prompted, "Harry?"

Harry cleared his throat, then looked at the microphone and said, "This is Harry Potter speaking now—and like he said, I'm here by choice…" He trailed off and stared out into the sea of faces in front of him—the spotlights overhead kept him from clearly seeing anyone past the first few rows and although there were a few vaguely familiar faces there, everyone in the middle distance and the back became faceless person shapes or shadows. Harry steeled himself, then bluntly said, "We've called this press conference to announce that Voldemort and I have agreed to a truce, with the full support of the Ministry." The crowd in front of him burst into a flurry of sound again, and Harry winced slightly before side-eying Voldemort—dramatic bastard probably lifted the Silencio at that moment on purpose to make the Wireless broadcast more interesting.

"Silence," Voldemort nearly hissed, drawing out the sibilance in the word as he cast another lazy nonverbal Silencio.

"Thanks," Harry told him quietly. He ran his thumb along the engraved words on the Snitch in his pocket, then he cleared his throat again and continued, "There's been a lot of fuss in the papers and the rumor mill about me being 'the Chosen One'," He paused, then said, "It's sort of true—I am 'the Chosen One,' but it's because Voldemort chose me all those years ago as the person most likely to be his equal, not because I'm destined to defeat him."

Harry glanced over at Voldemort, thinking back to that first day in the mindscape of the Great Hall and the way Voldemort had looked at him and murmured 'Chosen because I chose you,' and the way he'd seemed enthralled with Harry even then when they'd done nothing more than kiss for show in front of that infernal mirror. Then he thought about how less than an hour ago, Tom had kissed him like he was starving for it and said with complete conviction that they were meant for each other, not meant to kill each other, and Harry got a little bit lost in the memory of it.

After a moment, Voldemort glanced over and pointedly caught his eye, and Harry realized he must've been staring. He had also completely forgotten his next lines. He blinked and clutched the Snitch in his pocket as he felt a stab of panic, but then Voldemort's gaze flickered into something simultaneously fond and annoyed, and he took back over for the speech.

"Eighteen years ago," Voldemort said, his tone commanding everyone's attention, "a prophecy was made, foretelling the birth of a child whose power would have the potential to rival my own. My only equal." Voldemort paused for dramatic effect, glancing over to briefly meet Harry's eyes again before continuing. "I only heard the first half of the prophecy, however, and I," he paused with a slight grimace, "reacted rashly. There were others to whom the prophecy could've referred, but I chose Harry—and because I acted on that choice by trying to eliminate him before he became a threat, I unintentionally forged a connection between us and made him into my equal, setting the second half of the prophecy into motion." He paused, giving the crowd and those listening via Wizard Wireless a few moments to absorb that info-dump. Then he continued, "We won't be disclosing the entire prophecy, but suffice it to say that Harry and I have agreed on not just a truce but an alliance towards the betterment of the Wizarding world." Voldemort paused, then emphasized, "All of the Wizarding world… Despite what you may have been told about me, and despite what the majority of my followers believe, I personally hold no prejudice against Muggleborns , half-bloods, or magical creatures. Magic is might, in all of its forms."

Voldemort paused again, lifting the Silencio just long enough for the sounds of intrigued and confused murmurs of the crowd to carry to the microphone. Harry just barely refrained from rolling his eyes at Tom's theatrics.

"To that end," Voldemort continued, "I have already informed my followers of this truce. There will be no further authorized Death Eater attacks on Muggleborns or even Muggles." He waited a moment for that to sink in, then glanced towards the Minister, who took it as a cue and stepped up to the microphone on Voldemort's other side. "The Minister of Magic has a few words to say on the matter. Minister?"

Thicknesse cleared his throat and said, "The Ministry of Magic, in appreciation of this cease-fire and change in direction, has agreed to issue pardons to the Dark Lord and certain of his followers, effective as of today. Any future crimes, of course, will be investigated and prosecuted according to our laws. The Ministry is extending the same pardon to the members of the vigilante group the Order of the Phoenix, on the condition that any future illegal or seditious activity will be fully prosecuted."

"You're very gracious, Minister," Voldemort said politely.

"Thank you, Your Lordship," Thicknesse said with a pasted-on smile. "And on behalf of the Ministry, I would like to thank both you and Mr. Potter in advance for your undoubtedly immense future contributions to our society."

Harry simply nodded his acknowledgement while Voldemort smiled and smoothly replied, "It'll be our pleasure, I'm sure."

Thicknesse nodded and took that as a dismissal, retreating once again to stand near the back of the stage. Voldemort flicked his wand and took down the silencing spell on the crowd, replacing it with one that merely dampened the sound of the crowd a bit to reduce the background noise going through the microphone for the Wireless transmission.

Harry, knowing that his participation in the speech was mostly over, had taken to people-watching for the past few minutes, mostly tuning out Tom and the Minister's exchange. He could clearly see the first four or five rows of spectators (although it was standing room only, so the 'rows' weren't exactly well-defined), and he'd amused himself by trying to put names to faces. He'd spotted Percy Weasley off to the left in about the third row, and Arthur Weasley ten feet to the left of Percy, shooting unreadable glances at the back of Percy's head every so often but mostly watching Harry with a concerned frown. Harry avoided his eyes and looked straight ahead, glancing over unfamiliar faces before landing on—oh, god, that was Amos Diggory, looking stunned and betrayed and furious all at once. The sound-dampening spell was still up, but Harry could tell Amos was going on a rant to his concerned-looking neighbor, a woman Harry didn't recognize. Harry squeezed the Snitch in his pocket and tried very hard not to think about Cedric or the graveyard—he guiltily looked away to the right, finding on that side of the room a few Wizengamont members who he didn't know by name but who he recognized from his farce of an underage magic trial.

Voldemort launched into the final portion of the speech, a half-bullshit bit of sentiment intended to leave the crowd feeling emotional and convinced of Voldemort's change of heart.

Harry only half paid attention, nodding when appropriate but focusing more on people-watching to calm his nerves. Camera flashes kept going off, and Harry kept reminding himself to keep his posture straight and to try to project confidence like Tom had said. He gave up on trying to remember the names of the Wizengamont, and decided to look around for Umbridge—he rather thought it would cheer him up to see the blood quill's scars on her face, but he scanned the crowd and didn't see her. Maybe Tom had gotten her fired? Or killed her and lied about it? Harry frowned, then caught sight of the woman who had been listening to Diggory's rant—she'd woven her way to the front of the crowd and approached one of the Aurors standing guard, but he seemed to be uninterested, gesturing for her to step back as she grew more and more desperate for him to listen. Tom was saying something about forgiveness and reparations to a mostly dubious looking crowd. Almost over, Harry told himself as a comfort, despite the uneasy feeling gathering in his gut—almost finished, and then—

A sudden disturbance on the edge of the crowd had most of the Aurors in the room rushing to stage left. Voldemort paused in his speech, sending an annoyed glare in that direction. Harry looked too, but movement in the corner of his eye had him turning his head to look the opposite way—just in time to watch Amos Diggory haul off and punch the one Auror who'd remained guarding stage right directly in the face. Then Diggory grabbed the wand out of the falling Auror's hand and he pointed it right at Voldemort—who was still looking the opposite way—as a green glow formed at the wand's tip.

Harry's breath caught and he squeezed the Snitch in his pocket—a resounding wordless NO rang through Harry's entire being and he took a single step forward, putting himself in front of Tom as the green jet of light left Diggory's wand and flew towards them.

Several things happened at once, in what felt like the same split second—someone in the crowd screamed; the Snitch clicked open in Harry's hand inside his pocket; Harry felt an answering bolt of panic through his connection to Tom, an even louder mental NO, and then a roiling darkness flew out from behind Harry and rematerialized into Voldemort who was putting himself between Harry and the Killing Curse. Voldemort raised his wand and then determinedly, impossibly, at the last second he caught the jet of green light on the end of his wand and held it there for one shocked moment in which the entire room held its breath. Then he flicked his wand and sent the Killing Curse back at its caster, straight into Amos Diggory's chest.

Harry was too shocked to even breathe, let alone think—he stared at Voldemort who stared down at the crumpled dead man for another second before he waved his wand over the crowd and simultaneously silenced the entire room and froze everyone who wasn't onstage in place, immobilizing even the Death Eaters and Aurors. Then Voldemort turned to face Harry, panic and shock and fear and concern and fury all blatantly obvious in his expression. His hands came up, landing on Harry's shoulders as he checked for damage. "Harry," he breathed, and through the connection came a frantic stream of 'alive, he's alive, won't take him from me, never, can't lose him, show them, kill them all.'

Harry's eyes widened and out loud he whispered, "Don't," while he threw at the connection a hodgepodge of 'it's okay, I'm okay, you got him, we're safe, won't lose me, don't lash out, no more killing, everyone's watching.'

Voldemort blinked and then squeezed Harry's shoulders in response, never breaking eye contact. His breaths were still coming too quickly and his eyes still showed that barely-restrained panic and fury, and Harry worried that Voldemort was either going to hyperventilate or snap and kill everyone in the room. Harry brought his own hands up and grasped Tom's wrists in what he hoped was a grounding, comforting way. "I'm all right, we're all right, you got him," Harry said under his breath, hoping against all odds that the microphone wasn't picking this up.

"Harry," Voldemort whispered again, and he'd managed to slow his breathing down but his expression had shifted again—the fear and fury were still there, though tempered now with relief and slight confusion and a hint of triumph.

Harry's brow furrowed, and then it clicked, "That was—" he started, before pausing and abruptly switching to Parseltongue, "that was the spell Slytherin invented, wasn't it?"

Voldemort nodded and hissed back, "It worked."

Harry grinned and Voldemort let out a huff of breath that bore passing resemblance to a laugh, then he finally released Harry's shoulders. Voldemort seemed to finally pull himself together, and he schooled his expression into something along the lines of 'vengeful god' before turning to face the crowd again. The crowd of hundreds of people who, Harry noticed, were still silenced and completely frozen in place as they all looked on in fear—he spared a moment to marvel at the sheer power that must take, the power that Tom threw out like it was effortless.

"For those of you listening at home," Voldemort said into the microphone, his tone slipping into something smooth and deadly, "someone in the audience fired a Killing Curse at Harry and I." He paused, letting that hang on the airwaves before saying with finality and pride and fury all at once, "I blocked it, and sent it back to its caster. I have done the impossible today," he said, his voice slipping lower and almost into a hiss. "And if anyone else attempts to attack Harry or myself, I guarantee it will be the last mistake they ever make."

Harry stepped closer to Voldemort's side and reached for his wrist in what he hoped was a subtle manner, and he nervously whispered, "Let's go now, yeah?" Open death threats hadn't exactly been part of the message Tom had painstakingly devised for this announcement, and Harry, by virtue of being slightly less ready to completely flip his shit, was evidently the one on damage control.

Voldemort studied him for a moment and Harry studied Tom right back—to Harry, at least, it was obvious that Tom was still on the verge of snapping. After a moment Voldemort briefly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then quietly answered, "All right."

The Minister cautiously stepped closer to Harry and Voldemort but he didn't try to speak to them. Instead, he glanced at the microphone, cleared his throat, and like a good minion he said to the crowd, "As you all witnessed, that was clearly self-defense." Then he cleared his throat again and said, "Nevertheless, I'll add it to the pardon."

Harry stifled an inappropriate urge to laugh, then he tensed up when Voldemort lifted his wand towards the ceiling wearing a look of concentration.

"What are you—?"

After only a few seconds, the anti-apparation ward around the atrium came down with a boom that everyone in the room felt like a shockwave. The Minister's eyebrows shot up in awe, and Voldemort absently flicked his wand towards the crowd, undoing the blanket Silencio and the hundreds of simultaneous Immobilizing spells. Once able to move again, the crowd's faces turned to a mixture of impressed and terrified. Frantic camera flashes started going off again from the journalists' area. Then Voldemort held out his elbow for Harry, who took it without hesitation, and Voldemort apparated them both away.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The moment they apparated into the privacy and safety of their bedroom, Voldemort dropped the glamours of his former appearance and pulled Harry into a crushing embrace. One of Voldemort's hands was splayed across Harry's back, holding him close, and the other found its way into Harry's hair as he pressed Harry's head to rest against the juncture of Tom's shoulder and neck. Both of Harry's arms encircled Tom to hug him back just as tightly, and their bond hummed pleasantly between them despite the turmoil in both their minds. They were pressed together from head to toe as if Voldemort was trying to fuse them into one being—and for all Tom knew, maybe he was… Tom's mind and emotions were both still roiling in chaos and shock and confusion over his own actions.

Harry broke the silence first, with a whispered repetition of, "It's all right."

Tom's hand tightened its grip in Harry's hair and he snapped, "It is not all right, you reckless, stupidly heroic boy." Harry tensed slightly, and Tom's hand unclenched to card through that messy black hair instead, soothing Harry even as he continued to rant at him. "Did I neglect to mention that the Horcrux protective spells on you won't block Unforgivables?"

"I wasn't expecting them to," Harry said quietly.

Voldemort froze, then demanded, "Then why did you step in front of me?"

Harry's arms tightened around him as he murmured, "Because I can't lose you."

An odd feeling gripped Voldemort's chest—it was warm, like a tingle of magic but with a twinge of pain at the same time. "I have Horcruxes, Harry. I can be brought back…you can't."

One of Harry's shoulders twitched against him in what was probably meant to be a shrug. "I wasn't really thinking it through logically at the time," Harry said wryly.

"That much is obvious," Voldemort said sharply, although he knew what Harry meant—when Tom had seen that jet of green light flying towards Harry he'd reacted automatically, putting himself between Harry and death. Which was part of the reason he was still internally panicking, because Lord Voldemort did not risk his own death (even temporary death) for the lives of others—yet for Harry he had, and it terrified him. "Don't do it again. You wouldn't like what I'll do to the world if it takes you away from me."

At that, Harry's head lifted from Voldemort's chest, and he met his eyes for a moment before leaning up for a kiss that Tom granted enthusiastically, pouring all of his rage and fear and affection and frustration into it. As they kissed, a wave of that strange new obsessive affection hit him from Harry's side of their connection. Tom's breath caught for a moment, but he relished in the feeling before sending his own answering blast of it back to Harry.

Harry, disappointingly, broke the kiss and looked searchingly up into Tom's eyes. "Do you get it yet?" he asked, with a hint of desperation in his tone. "Have you realized what this is?" he asked, sending another wave through their connection to make it clear what he was referring to.

Voldemort blinked, not sure what to make of Harry's question or the urgency behind it. "It's…part of our connection," he said uncertainly. "Or some kind of after-effect of the ritual, although I've repeatedly checked for lingering spells and compulsions and found nothing—" Harry was shaking his head, so Tom cut himself off and asked Harry, "You know what it is?"

Harry nodded, and he gave Voldemort a forced-looking smile. His eyes looked suspiciously watery, and Tom felt a spike of concern.

"Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath and seemed to steel himself, then he met Tom's eyes again and said, "Right—I know this is way too soon—and it would still be too soon even if we weren't, you know, who we are. And I don't expect you to say it back, but—after what just happened and what could've happened, I can't not say it, all right?" Tom's brow furrowed slightly in both confusion and concern, but then Harry took another deep breath and blurted out, "I love you." Voldemort blinked, completely shocked, and Harry took it as his cue to add in a rush, "It's love—what you keep calling 'obsessive affection,' this feeling right here," he said, pointedly sending another wave of it through their connection. Tom unthinkingly sent an answering wave back, an automatic call-and-return. Harry's eyes slipped closed for a second and a trace of a smile graced his lips, then he said, "That's love, Tom."

Voldemort could sense lies; he was a natural Legilimens and he'd always been able to tell whether someone was lying or being truthful—and Harry…wasn't lying. Harry wholeheartedly believed what he was saying. And yet…

"I can't love," Voldemort said in a tone numb from shock.

"You've been managing it pretty well so far."

"You're being ridiculous," Tom said, "I was conceived under a love potion. I cannot love—it's impossible."

Harry gave him a half-smile and said fondly, "I'm starting to think you can do anything, especially if it's impossible. Look at today—you blocked the Killing Curse. You're practically invincible now."

Voldemort felt that pang of warmth in his chest again but he ignored it along with the flattery and snapped, "I didn't know whether Slytherin's spell would work—I put my own life in danger because of this, this fucking obsession."

Harry blinked, then corrected, "Love."

"It's not love! I. Can't. Love." Voldemort said in a low, chilly tone.

Harry looked hurt for a moment, then he said pleadingly, "About the love potion thing—Sev said it's not that you can't love at all, it's just that you have a lot less empathy than most people and you never learned how. But—"

Voldemort furiously interrupted, "You've been gossiping about me with my followers?"

Harry blinked and a spark of annoyance flickered through his side of their bond. "No, I was talking about my relationship," he said pointedly, "with the only parental figure I have left."

Voldemort scoffed and asked, "And he encouraged this delusional foolishness?" It seemed he would have to have a talk with Severus about overstepping his bounds.

"No," Harry said in a small, hurt voice. "He said not to tell you yet because you wouldn't take it well." Harry let out a humorless laugh, then added, "I guess I should've listened."

Voldemort's first instinct was to comfort Harry, to send another wave of that obsessive affection (NOT love) through their bond, but he stopped himself—this was the root of the problem, wasn't it? By indulging too much in this addictive feeling, he'd strengthened its power over him—clearly he needed to cut it off, to take a step back and regain control of himself.

So he did—starting with a literal step back, because despite their argument and their wildly shifting emotions, neither he nor Harry had broken their embrace during this entire time. Harry blinked at him as he stepped back, then a look of near-panic crossed Harry's face when Voldemort pulled up a barrier between their mental connection.

"No—Tom, no! Don't shut me out again," Harry said, taking a step forward to follow him and grabbing both of his arms to keep him from moving away any further. "You promised!"

"Let go," Voldemort said in the iciest tone he could manage when part of him was warring against his self-control and wanted nothing more than to comfort Harry and let him call the thrice-damned obsession whatever he wanted if it would chase the sad and panicked look out of those green eyes. But the obsession—the feeling, whatever name it went by—was clearly dangerous, and it verged on madness, and Tom refused to let it control him. He had to get out of its power, and he had to figure out what it truly was.

Harry shook his head, looking near tears, and whispered, "Please." Voldemort pulled his arms out of Harry's grasp but he underestimated the boy's quick reflexes. Harry immediately caught Tom's wrists instead and clung on even tighter. "Tom—Voldemort, please," he said again, his eyes begging just as fiercely as his tone.

Voldemort looked down at the floor between them, and resisted the urge to capitulate and just pull the boy close again. "Harry," he said in a quiet but firm tone, "you told me you would back off if I asked you for space…I'm asking." He looked up in time to watch a devastated expression flash across Harry's face before he forced it into a poor attempt at neutrality.

"Yeah," Harry whispered, "all right," and he slowly opened his hands to release Tom's wrists as if the motion was painful. Voldemort glanced down at the rings of reddened skin around his freed wrists and idly noted that they would probably bruise—the thought of it didn't particularly bother him, although he would've killed anyone else who dared to leave marks on him or stop him from leaving. Harry, as always, was his exception.

Voldemort looked up at Harry again—the boy looked painfully tense with the effort of holding himself still and not reaching out. "Please," Harry said once again, visibly fighting to keep his composure, "don't leave the connection blocked. You promised—" he said, his voice faltering slightly.

Tom stepped closer to Harry, who tensed even more. Tom risked getting within grabbing distance to press a chaste kiss to Harry's scar, making Harry sigh and relax considerably. "It's a door this time," Tom explained as he leaned away again, "not a wall. You can knock if you need me."

Harry glanced up and caught his eye, and Tom immediately felt a mental prod against the barrier between their connection. No thoughts or emotions came through, just a generic awareness that Harry had requested his attention. "Like that?" Harry asked.

"Precisely."

"All right," Harry said quietly, as if trying to convince himself that it was. "Okay."

Tom stepped around him towards the door while Harry turned and opened his mouth to say something, but no words ever came. Tom felt Harry's eyes on him all the way to the door, and he told himself that he was absolutely not going to look back. He opened the door, stepped through it, and was pulling it closed behind him when he finally caved. He glanced up and caught Harry's eyes watching him in a silent plea to stay—Tom met his gaze only for a second before tearing his eyes away and pulling the door shut.

He paused with his hand still on the doorknob, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He told himself that he definitely hadn't heard a sob just before the door clicked shut and the automatic room-silencing spell went back up. It still took him a moment to work up the determination to actually walk away, but he told himself it meant nothing—it was the pull of the obsession and he was supposed to be fighting it. He shoved down his conflicted, treacherous feelings behind an Occlumency barrier along with the lingering panic over almost losing Harry, and he took a deep relieved breath once it clicked into place and he could think logically again.

Tom headed for the door to the corridor and glanced around briefly—at least no one had managed to destroy the sitting room in his absence this time. He paused by the main door and reached out through the Dark Mark, calling for Severus. A few moments later, there was a knock at the door and Voldemort opened it to let the man in.

"Where's Harry?" Severus asked immediately, glancing around at the empty room with ill-concealed concern.

"He's unharmed—he's just resting at the moment. I take it you were listening on the Wireless?"

"Of course. Who was stupid enough to attack you?"

"I didn't recognize him," Tom said. "But it doesn't matter—he's dead, and he'll serve as an example. I'm sure the horde of reporters who witnessed it will dig up his name and his motives soon enough."

Severus hesitated for a moment, then asked, "You really blocked a Killing Curse?"

A hint of awe and curiosity laced his voice, reminding Tom of much simpler times years ago when Severus had been a new recruit and Tom hadn't shredded his soul and his mind quite so extensively—they had often ended up in the Malfoy library together after meetings, researching the possibilities and boundaries of Dark magic and talking for hours about how to push them further.

Tom smiled and said, "Caught it on the tip of my wand and sent it right back at the caster."

Severus' eyebrows shot up. "That's…supposed to be impossible."

Tom gave him a pointed look and said, "So is casting one wandlessly—but we both know better, don't we?"

Severus' expression closed off and he asked, "Must you keep bringing up one of the most traumatic nights of my life? Harry isn't even here to be entertained by it."

Tom blinked, then said quietly, "My apologies, Severus." Severus stared at him, managing to mostly conceal his shock at the apology. Tom took advantage of his surprise and added, "I called you here because Harry told me something rather concerning and I require you to verify it."

Severus' expression shifted into suspicion and wariness. "Verify what, exactly?"

Tom opened his mouth to reply but found himself hesitating. It seemed almost like a betrayal to tell anyone else about that intense, intoxicating, obsessive affection between himself and Harry—and yet…

"An emotion…one that I'm—unfamiliar with."

"Oh?" Severus met his eyes and seemed to be drawing a conclusion, one that left him looking uncomfortable.

"Harry told me that a certain obsession between us is actually love."

"And you don't believe him?" Severus asked, his expression going unreadable even to Tom.

"I believe that he believes it," Tom said, "but I'm supposed to be incapable of love, and whatever this is—it's mutual, and it's…dangerous."

Severus arched a brow and cautiously asked, "How so?"

"Harry saw the Killing Curse coming first," Tom said, crossing his arms as a chill hit him at the memory of it. "He stepped into its path to shield me," he said quietly as Severus paled. Tom looked down at the ground and continued, "And I—I didn't even think, I just put myself back in front of him, as automatic as breathing." He looked back up to find Severus' jaw had dropped and he was staring at Tom like he'd never seen him before.

When Severus finally recovered and spoke again, he asked, "But—you knew you could block the curse?"

Tom shook his head. "No. It was an untested spell I found years ago in Salazar Slytherin's research journals."

Severus blinked, opened his mouth, closed it again, and just stared at Tom for a long moment. Then he cleared his throat and finally said, "I'm inclined to agree with Harry's conclusion."

Tom sighed and said, "Yes, well, I didn't just ask you here for your opinion. I need to know for certain."

The suspicious look returned to Severus' face. "And how exactly am I supposed to help with that?"

"You loved Harry's parents," Tom said bluntly, ignoring the stricken expression that brought to Severus' face. "I'm well aware now that I won't see anything in your mind other than what you choose to show me—"

"My Lord—" Severus dared to interrupt, but Tom cut him off.

"Tom," he corrected.

Severus paused, then said, "Tom, I—"

"It's not an order, Severus," Tom interrupted, "it's a request. We can consider it a favor, like old times—I'll owe you."

"You'll owe me? I don't think you understand the magnitude of what you're asking," Severus said boldly, his eyes full of reigned-in fury. "Let me see if I'm interpreting this correctly…you want me to freely open my mind and let you dig through my memories of Lily and James—who you murdered—so you can compare my love for them to the feelings you have for their son?"

"I wouldn't have phrased it that way, but—"

"Go fuck yourself," Severus snapped at him. Then he let out a slightly deranged laugh at whatever shocked expression Tom was wearing, and continued, "I've wanted to say that for years, and I honestly don't care if you kill me for it at this point. Harry's safe—my job is finished as far as I'm concerned," he said spreading his arms as if inviting a curse.

Tom was sorely tempted to Crucio him for the insolence, but that wouldn't help him get what he wanted. Instead he said graciously, "I'll forgive you for that just this once—"

"Oh will you? I'll say it again then—go fuck yourself, Tom."

Tom growled and drew his wand, but stopped himself from casting at the last second. Severus hadn't even moved to defend himself. Tom took a deep breath to try to calm his temper, then he said, "You aren't going to provoke me into killing you, Severus, and your job is not finished—Harry sees you as a father figure now, he wants you in his life and I'm not going to take that away from him."

"Why not? You've done it before," Severus goaded.

Tom gritted his teeth and then said, "And if I could undo that now, I would—for both of you."

Severus blinked, and the fury in his expression gave way to mingled surprise and curiosity and doubt. He looked at Tom's wand and then back at his face, and he seemed torn between standing down and provoking him again. Tom pointedly put his wand away.

"You know you've always been my favorite, Severus," Tom said quietly. It wasn't a lie or even flattery, just a fact—years ago, Tom had looked at Severus and seen himself: a brilliant, powerful half-blood with a horrible childhood and an affinity for Dark magic. Tom had treated him like a protégé, like a friend, and almost like a son.

Severus gave him a humorless smile and said, "And there was a time when that meant something to me. There was a time when I foolishly considered you my closest friend—but then you went mad and turned yourself into a monster and murdered the two people I loved most in the world."

"I split my soul too many times," Tom found himself admitting. "I know now that it destabilized my mind further each time, and I won't make that mistake again."

"I would hope not," Severus said, daring to meet Tom's eyes.

Tom was tempted to force his way in with Legilimency, but he hesitated—not just because he knew Severus could keep him away from what he sought, but also because he didn't want to betray the man again…and that was just preposterous. Lord Voldemort did not let little things like trust or hurt feelings stand in the way of getting what he wanted. But he was feeling guilt, yet again, and also hurt—he had thought that his expanded emotional range had been limited to Harry due to their connection, but now he was feeling hurt because he had hurt Severus in the past…it didn't make any goddamned sense. He had always been good at understanding people's emotions in a clinical and detached sort of way, and at manipulating them for his own gain—but he'd never before felt what other people felt as part of understanding them. This must be empathy, then—Tom had always rather thought it sounded fake, like something that weak and spineless people had invented and propagated to excuse their weakness. Evidently it was very real and very fucking annoying.

"Severus?" Tom finally said, cutting off his introspection before he could discover anything else horrifying. "Harry said you mentioned something about children born from love potions lacking empathy."

Severus blinked at the change of subject, then cautiously replied, "Yes, that's the contemporary consensus. Despite the long-held belief, the children aren't completely unable to love, they just have a very low level of empathy and they tend to be born into toxic homes where they never learn to further develop that empathy and never experience actual love."

Tom nodded and frowned distractedly at the ground, wondering whether his seemingly spontaneous development of empathy was due to his connection with Harry, or whether it was possibly a result of the ritual. He wondered whether it would spread any further and shuddered at the thought. Surely it wouldn't—Severus was one of the very few people Tom had ever genuinely cared about, and Harry was, well, everything— so it made sense that if he was going to develop empathy, it would be directed at them.

"Tom?" Severus said cautiously, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Tom blinked and looked up at him. "Yes?"

"What did you do when Harry told you it was love?"

Tom saw no reason to lie, and answered, "I told him it wasn't, and I asked for some space—he's still upset over the incident during the announcement, but he agreed. Then I called you here."

Severus blinked and gave him an unreadable look, then said in an odd tone, "I've changed my mind. You can look." He maintained eye contact with Tom as he gave permission.

Tom narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Just like that?"

Severus nodded, and said in a mildly apologetic tone, "I lost my temper with you…but I wouldn't refuse anything that will help Harry."

Tom heard the truth in both statements, although he couldn't quite dispel his suspicion. Still, he said, "Thank you, Severus. I won't pry unnecessarily," he assured him, before reaching out and entering his mind with Legilimency.

He found what he'd asked for right away—Severus' feelings for James and Lily Potter. They were remarkably similar to what Tom felt for Harry…closer so to Severus and James than Severus and Lily—there was that extra level of intensity with the enemies-to-lovers dynamic which resonated with what Tom and Harry felt, like the same song in a slightly different key.

That was what he'd been looking for—and it was certainly a punch to the gut to have confirmation that he, Lord Voldemort, could love after all—and he started to withdraw in a bit of a daze.

But something stopped him from leaving Severus' mind, and Tom realized rather quickly that he'd made a mistake.

"No," Severus said viciously, mentally grabbing hold of Tom's startled consciousness and yanking him back in. "You wanted to feel it, you're going to feel it all."

A spark of alarm shot through Tom, and then he was dragged through the pit of anger-despair-rejection-worthlessness that Severus had felt when things had ended with his lovers. Then the guilt and horror Severus had felt when he'd realized Voldemort was targeting the Potters for the prophecy, the determination and hope when he'd begged Tom to spare Lily, right alongside the self-hatred and guilt and resignation when Severus had made the strategic decision not to try to ask Voldemort to spare James since he was certain he would refuse (and he would've—after Brighton, nothing could've made him spare James Potter). After that came the night of the Potters' deaths and Severus' utter devastation and betrayal and pain and guilt and depression and desire to die if only for the tiniest chance of seeing them again.

"I'm sorry," Tom gasped, and he meant it and he deliberately projected it out into the mind he was trapped within. "Severus—I'm sorry."

Tom realized after a moment that nothing was holding his presence there anymore, and he quickly pulled away into the safety of his own mind.

The room around him swam back into focus and he kept a wary eye on Severus, who was standing across from him and looking both exhausted and devastated—Severus had forced his face into a convincing mask of blank severity, but the evidence of tear tracks down his face told a different story.

"I'm sorry," Tom repeated, stunned by the amount of pain he'd put this man through—by all he'd taken away from him. Tom had felt all of it, and he had no idea how Severus was even still functioning, or how he'd managed not to snap and attack Tom every time he'd seen him since that Halloween night.

"Good," Severus said, sounding unrepentant. Then he took a deep breath and said, "If you're going to kill me for that now, get it over with. But afterwards, you better go fix things with Harry and stop hurting him by trying to pretend you don't love him."

"I'm not going to kill you," Tom said, despite the large and panicked corner of his mind that was in fact raging for him to destroy whatever had dared to hurt Lord Voldemort.

Severus gave him a withering look, then said, "You killed me sixteen years ago," before turning and storming towards the door without waiting to be dismissed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

When Tom had left the bedroom and closed the door behind him, Harry hadn't been able to hold in a distressed sob—he'd sank to the floor, still wearing Draco's ridiculously expensive dress robes, and clamped one hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet.

He didn't understand how everything had gone so wrong. Tom felt the exact same thing Harry did—Harry knew it, he could fucking feel it—and yet he'd freaked out when Harry had pointed out that it was love. Tom had put himself between Harry and a Killing Curse, he had deliberately risked his own life to protect Harry's—yet he couldn't admit that he loved him? Harry took a deep breath as a stab of anger melted into his hurt—why did Tom have to be so bloody difficult?

Harry absently stuck his hand in his pocket to clutch the Snitch—and he jolted in surprise when instead of the familiar metallic roundness, his hand found two hollow halves of the Snitch along with something cold and smooth. The Snitch had opened—Harry had barely processed it at the time, being convinced that he was about to die and all—but it had actually opened. He closed his fingers around the object in his pocket and hesitated, but then he figured that it would've cursed him or exploded by now if it was going to.

He pulled it out to reveal a small, dark, diamond-shaped stone. Peering closely at it, he saw a faint etching of the same strange triangular symbol that was on the book Dumbledore had left Hermione—the same symbol that Grindelwald had once used. Harry blinked, and wondered what he was supposed to do with it, and why Dumbledore had decided to give it to him but only at the moment he was about to die.

Harry sniffled and squeezed his eyes closed, forcibly holding back the tears that wanted to fall at the reminder of how close he had come to either dying or losing Tom. If Slytherin's spell hadn't worked—but it had, and then Harry had to go and push too hard and scare Tom off, and it felt like he'd lost him anyway.

Harry stared down at the stone in the palm of his hand for a long moment, focusing on it while he tried to regulate his breathing and fight off the lingering urge to cry. He wasn't sure exactly how much time passed, but he felt slightly more stable and he'd just gotten to his feet when a sudden pain in his scar nearly sent him to the floor again. It went on for a long moment before cutting off abruptly.

He blinked and took a second to catch his breath and regain his bearings, then he nudged insistently at the 'door' Tom had put up between their connection, but it didn't budge and no response came.

Convinced that something was very wrong, Harry stuck the jewel back in his pocket, then rushed to the door and pulled it open. He paused in the doorway at the sight of Severus storming towards the main door to the hallway while Tom watched him go with a distraught expression.

"Sev? Tom?" Harry called. Sev paused with his hand on the doorknob and glanced towards Harry. Tom blinked, then turned towards him as well. "What happened? My scar hurt, and it hasn't done that since, well."

Tom just looked at him for a moment, then glanced briefly at Sev before saying, "Nothing to worry about, Harry." At Harry's dubious look, he hesitated and then added quietly, "I asked too much of Severus and he responded accordingly."

"Okaaaay?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows at both of them and waiting for an elaboration that never came.

Severus cleared his throat and said, "I was just on my way out," as he started to pull the door open.

Tom waved his hand and the door yanked out of Sev's grip and flew shut again. "Harry," Tom said casually as Severus leveled a glare at him, "Severus seems to be under the misapprehension that since your life is no longer in danger from me, his life is no longer necessary."

Harry blinked, and once the meaning sunk in, Harry gave Sev a look that was both concerned and horrified. "Sev, no!"

Severus sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm not going to do anything stupid," he assured Harry, before looking at Tom and adding, "I just lost my head for a minute because someone won't stop dragging up my worst memories."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Tom said, and Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the seemingly genuine remorse in his tone. "It won't happen again."

Severus pinned Tom with a rather dubious look, and because of that he didn't notice Harry approaching him until he'd already thrown his arms around Sev in a tight hug. Severus startled and scolded, "Harry!"

"You better not do anything stupid," Harry said into Sev's chest. "I still need you around—I want you around, Sev, all right? Promise me."

Harry felt Severus exhale before bringing his arms up to return the hug. "All right," Sev said quietly.

After a moment, Harry pulled back far enough to catch Sev's eye and smile up at him. Severus' expression was unreadable, but he met Harry's eyes and nodded before pulling away.

This time, no one stopped him from leaving, and once past the threshold of the door, Severus turned around and pointedly told Tom, "Fix it," before closing the door.

Harry glanced at Tom and cautiously asked, "What exactly did I miss?"

Instead of answering, Tom stepped closer to Harry and reached up to trace his fingers across Harry's cheek and down his jaw, giving him a look of open adoration that made Harry's heartbeat speed up.

"Tom?"

Tom leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to Harry's scar before pulling him into another close embrace just as he'd done earlier. Harry hugged him back and closed his eyes and savored it, telling himself not to say anything, telling himself not to screw it up again.

After a moment, Harry felt the 'door' blocking their connection disappear, and then he gasped when Tom sent a wave of (love—no, don't call it love) obsessive affection across it. Harry blinked back tears of relief and sent an answering wave of it back.

Tom sighed and brought one hand up to stroke through Harry's hair, then he murmured, "This is all completely new to me and I'm making rather a mess of it, but," he paused, pressed another kiss to the top of Harry's head, then said incredulously, "you were right." He leaned back just far enough to make eye contact with Harry, then said, "Apparently—impossibly—I love you, Harry Potter."

Harry's breath caught, and his mouth dropped open but he was too stunned to think of anything to say—so he didn't say anything. He reached both hands up to tangle in Tom's hair and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. Tom deepened the kiss, and there was a softer edge to its intensity somehow, something that tasted like a promise.

"Love you," Harry gasped when he broke away to breathe, "gods, Tom, I love you."

There was a brief flicker of something wary in Tom's expression that made Harry think that he still hadn't fully come to terms with it—and that was fine. They didn't have to say it every five seconds—Harry didn't want to be one of those couples anyway. As long as Tom was done running from it and pushing him away, that was enough. 'Ride or die' meant the same thing to them anyway.

Harry leaned up to kiss Tom again, then took one of Tom's hands and tugged him towards the bedroom. Tom followed eagerly, pushing the door closed behind them and gently pressing Harry against the wall beside the door in the same spot where he'd pinned him earlier. Tom claimed Harry's lips again before moving down to his neck.

A sudden tapping at the window distracted Harry from the way Tom was mouthing at his neck, sucking and kissing and definitely leaving a mark.

"There's an owl," Harry said, running his hand through Tom's hair and reluctantly pushing him away.

"It can wait," Tom said, simply moving his attention and his lips to the other side of Harry's neck.

Harry glanced up at the window where the rather severe-looking screech owl was glaring right at him, then he gently pushed Tom's head away again. "It's watching us," he complained.

Tom laughed and the warm puffs of breath against Harry's neck tickled and made him squirm. "You're ridiculous," Tom said fondly as he straightened up and strode over to the window to open it.

The owl, perched on the window sill, held out its leg for Tom to take the letter and then immediately flew off with an irritated cry. Tom pulled out his wand and cast several detection spells on the letter, then almost carelessly tore it open and started to read. After only a few seconds, he blinked and his expression went tense and serious.

"Tom?" Harry asked, moving to stand beside him so he could read it too.

There was no greeting. It simply read:

'Our mutual friend asked me to relay his disappointment and to remind you that this is not what we discussed. I, on the other hand, thought your little speech was most entertaining—and just between the two of us, I'm not entirely sticking to his plan either (shhhh!). Your unexpected move just made things much more interesting, and I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun in the future.

—G

P.S… Do you remember yet?'

Harry finished reading the note and glanced up at Tom, who met his eyes with an uneasy expression.

"Well," Harry said false-cheerfully, "that's nice and ominous."

Tom nodded, then refolded the letter and set it on the nightstand. "Yes, but it can still wait."

He reached out and put both hands on Harry's hips, then nudged him backwards towards the bed, giving him a questioning look.

Harry smiled and agreed, "Yeah, definitely."

When his legs bumped into the bed, Harry wrapped his arms around Tom and then flung himself backwards onto the mattress, bringing Tom down with him and muffling his surprised laugh with another kiss.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

first of all HOLY SHIT this fic is now over 100k and officially the longest thing I've ever written. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, and/or left kudos!

Also, sorry I kept forgetting to include that playlist of my all time favorite Tomarry songs. Here you go :)

"Not Strong Enough" by Apocalyptica

"How Can I Live" by Ill Nino

"Breathe Into Me" by Red

"Oceans" by Evanescence

"Familiar Taste of Poison" by Halestorm

"A New Way to Bleed" by Evanescence

"Flesh" by Simon Curtis

"Already Over" by Red

"Last Time" by Fuel

"Trust" by Sophie Lowe

"Come Back For Me" by Jaymes Young

"Don't Fight It" by 10 Years

"Addicted" by Kelly Clarkson

"Not Afraid Anymore" by Halsey

"Torch Song" by AFI

"Disappear" by Evanescence

"Crazy In Love" Sofia Karlberg (a slower, darker cover of the Beyonce classic)

"Cold Soul" by Angie Mattson

"When You Break" by Bear's Den

"Cold Soul" by Trevor Moran

"Strange Love" by Halsey

"Enemy" by Simon Curtis

"All Around Me" by Flyleaf

Hope you enjoyed this chapter… Comments give me life!