My, my, it's been a while... As some sort of compensation here's a little longer chapter (about 1,5 times longer). My university's classes begin in 2 weeks, so I guess I'll start writing again as soon as I realise I've got losts of studying to do (come on, who doesn't do that?).

Anyways, enjoy!

13. The Warlock's Hairy Heart

Tom Riddle had never needed anyone. At least not like other people had. They needed someone to come home to, someone to talk to, someone to confide in. He thought them foolish, seeing as they kept losing all of their dignity the very same second they fell in love. He was the most influential, the most handsome and the most talented warlock in England. He could not afford such imprudent emotions like compassion, mercy or love. No, he was above such foolish feelings.

Being the great warlock he was, it didn't take him long to find a way to guard himself from those redundant sentiments. He employed the Dark Arts to ensure his immunity. He hid his heart deep in the depths of his castle's dungeons. Since that day forth he had never dithered, hesitated or regretted his decisions. Each single day he affirmed his absolute power and dominance.

Heretofore he had never considered the need to ensure the continuance of his line, yet one feral day his most loyal minion suggested that it would be indeed quite a waste should all of his wealth be squandered after his death. He agreed and the search for the most fitting lady began.

Countless numbers of fine maidens came and went, yet none was up to the warlock's expectations. Some were too stout, others too weak; some were too cheerful, others too mournful. He flatly dismissed one damoiselle after another. After many, many days of searching, there was no maiden left in the entire kingdom.

The wrath of the warlock was beyond all description. He roared and growled, shouted and cursed, many a one servant experiencing his anger on their own skin. One day the warlock's wrath reached its peak and he cast a Crucio curse on the nearest minion. The servant fell to the ground, yet no screams or pleas escaped his mouth. Intrigued, the wizard came to the man and took his hood off with his foot. He saw a pair of emerald eyes smouldering with loathing piercing him through bangs as black as night. He decided.

"A man... but he will do. Bring him to my chambers at twilight", he ordered and headed away. If the boy succeeded to satisfy his needs, he would be his betrothed.

"I shall never agree to that!", spat the young man as he staggeringly gathered himself up. The warlock eyed him. "I shall never be with someone who owns no heart!"

The wizard smirked and took the younger mage's hand. He dragged him into the deepest pit of the castle's dungeons to the forgotten chamber that held his most precious treasure. He cast a spell and all torches became aflame illuminating the chamber. In the centre in an enchanted crystal casket was the warlock's beating heart.

Long since disconnected from eyes, ears and fingers, it had never fallen prey to beauty, or to a musical voice, to the feel of silken skin. The young wizard was terrified by the sight of it, for the heart was shrunken and covered in long black hair.

"Oh, no, my sir!", he exclaimed, tears shining in his emerald eyes. "Put it back where it belongs to, I beg of you!", he cried.

Seeing that it was necessary to gain the man's approval, the warlock cut his chest wide open and put the hairy organ into the empty spot between his bones. He opened his eyes and gasped at the sight in front of him. The young lad was smiling genuinely and tears of happiness were dropping from his shining eyes. The minion threw himself at the speechless warlock.

"Now you are healed and we shall never be apart!", the lad exclaimed and held close to his chosen one.

The touch of soft white arms, the sound of warm breath in his ear, the scent of the silken hair: all pierced the newly awakened heart like spears. But it had grown strange during its long exile, blind and savage in the darkness to which it had been condemned, and its appetites had grown powerful and perverse.

"Oh, so beautiful a heart, so pure, so innocent, offering itself to me without any claims", Riddle whispered and embraced the man. "Tell me your name."

"It's Harry", the boy whispered back, content of the affection his master was giving him.

"Harry...", the man enjoyed the sound of the name on his lips. Suddenly the man threw the boy at the floor and ripped his shirt off. He seized a silver dagger. "Thank you, for what you offered me, I shall gladly receive", he said and ripped the lad's chest open.

When the servants arrived at the chamber a most dreadful sight awaited them. Their master held in one bloody hand the dead boy's great, smooth, shining scarlet heart, which he licked and stroked, vowing to exchange it for his own. With the other hand he tried to pull his own ugly hairy heart from his chest. But the hairy heart was stronger than he was, and refused to relinquish its hold upon his senses or to return to the coffin in which it had been locked for so long. Before the horror-struck eyes of his guests, the warlock seized the bloodied silver dagger again. Vowing never to be mastered by his own heart, he hacked it from his chest.

For one moment, the warlock knelt triumphant, with a heart clutched in each hand; then he fell across the boy's body, and died.

"Tom! Tom!", a voice brought Tom from his nightmare and he gasped a mouthful of the night air. He gulped the air and clutched at his own chest as if confirming whether his heart was still in place and beating. "Tom, look at me!"

Still breathing heavily Riddle finally averted his eyes from his chest and looked into the eyes of his frightened husband. Harry was shaking with anxiety and his big emerald eyes were shining with tears in the moonlight. Suddenly Tom threw the boy on his back and ripped the pyjamas top. He restlessly put trembling hands on Harry's shoulders and pressed his ear to the boy's heart. The fast, steady rhythm seemed to calm him down an inch.

"T-Tom? Please, you're scaring me", the younger man whispered and the Dark Lord finally sighed. He pushed himself up on his arms and looked Harry in the eyes. "You were... tossing... a-and screaming... in your sleep", the boy admitted and broke the eye-contact. "You really scared me." Tom smiled slightly and lied onto the boy. He put his arms around the slim waist possessively.

"Shush, it shall never happen again", he murmured and strengthened his hold.

"T-Tom?"

"... never again", he repeated, more to himself than to the boy.

When the morning came, came the memories. Tom growled at himself and his abnormal and illogical behaviour last night. He realised he still held the boy in his arms and that eased his discomfort. He was content with the way the younger man fit nicely into his arms and how the warmth that radiated from him made him feel at ease. He wondered whether he would truly ever be able to rip apart Harry's chest, whether he would be able to kill the man he had grown so fond of. He knew of the prophecy, but that did not mean he believed in it. Once he tried to act according to it and it only led to his death. Tom caressed the boy's cheek with one finger. Would Harry be able to fight and kill him instead? No, surely the boy would never kill anyone. But on the other hand, the boy had every right to. The man snarled and pulled on one strand of black dishevelled hair.

"Nnh...", Harry reprimanded through his sleep and when the annoyance did not stop he cracked one eye open. "Umm, mornin'...", he murmured sleepily.

"Morning", Tom replied and smirked at the sight the boy presented. "Got your beauty sleep?"

"Oh, shut it", the boy growled and snuggled closer to the man, who, taken slightly aback, held him close.

"It's already breaking dawn; we ought to get up soon."

"... make the Sun go away."Riddle snickered slightly at the remark.

"I'm quite convinced that whether the Sun disappears or not, Severus will still require your presence in his classroom"

"... make him go away", Harry commented and did not move one inch.

"Hmm, be careful what you are wishing for, Harry...", Tom whispered. "After all I was not called the Dark Lord for nothing..." The sentence suddenly got the boy up. He sat up and eyed his husband.

"You wouldn't."

"Care to find out?"

"No, I'd rather not", came the reply and soon after the boy was gone from the bed. Tom growled at the loss of warmth, but as he saw the shirtless wizard looking for his glasses, his spirits went high again.

"I'm sorry for the shirt, I will make sure to order you another one, if you'd like. This does not mean, however, that I do not enjoy the sight you present at the moment, mind you", he admitted and the bespectacled boy glared at him. Harry sighed and sat down on the bed. He looked kind of lost for words, yet determined to get some things off his mind.

"Uhm... last night... what?", he stuttered.

"Forget that", came the growling answer and the man stood up, gathered some clothes and left the room. The younger wizard grabbed his clothes as well and followed the man.

"You're not getting away from me that easily", Harry stated as he closed the bathroom door behind himself. He recoiled a bit when he saw that the man stood only in his undergarments. Nevertheless, the raven-haired kept his composure and held his chin up.

"Fine, you wish to know what I dreamt of, don't you?", the Dark Lord snarled annoyed and threw his shirt on the ground. Soon his garments became forgotten, as he neared the boy. He nailed the boy to the door and rested his arms on each side of his head. "You desire to know the devious and hectic insanities that infest my disturbed mind?", his voice was becoming lower and lower. "As you wish", he sneered. By now his tone was but a whisper. "Tonight I dreamt of ripping the heart out of your chest. But what a marvellous sight it was!", he paused and laughed creepily. "All bloody and silken... so soft, so scarlet... And when you lied limp and lifeless in my arms, all bloodied and white, your emerald eyes contrasting so beautifully with the ruby droplets on your pale cheeks..." Tom stopped his speech as one finger rested on his lips.

"Is that... what you truly want from me?", Harry asked, his voice somehow strong. He looked straight into the eyes of the Dark Lord and Riddle was surprised to find pure determination and bravery there. "Do you want to watch me die, to kill me with your own hands and enjoy your victory?", the boy inquired insistently. "Do you take pleasure in my pain and hurt? Do you... loathe me that much?"

Tom looked at the boy... no, at the young man. Even though he spoke of such sickening and gruesome things he did not waver, only the determination was replaced by sadness.

"No", the man replied in sad earnest. He let out a breath he had been holding in and let one hand slide down and rest on Harry's ruffled hair. "No, I do not loathe you, not anymore", he emphasised. "It was just a dream, a mere nightmare. It won't happen again, I told you already", he reassured the other wizard and let go. He walked away, picked his garments and glanced back. "Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you left the room for now. Unless you care to take a bath together?"

"I, I...", Harry stuttered and sighed. "Thanks, I think I'll pass. But...", he came up to the man and pulled him down by his neck. "If you ever have something like that on your mind, I'd rather hear it from you than have you keeping all those... disturbing thoughts to yourself", he said as he rested their foreheads together.

"...if you wish so."

"Good."

"...Harry?"

"..."

"Harry?"

"..."

"Oh well, I guess this means one thing", he said more briskly and smirked. Harry shrieked as he felt his pyjamas fly to the corner of the room and was thrown naked into the warm water. Tom stripped out of his undergarments and soon followed his spouse.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?", Potter gasped as soon as he could get his head above the water. He scooped into the corner of the bath and tried his best to cover himself with his own arms. Tom looked contently at him, his trademark smirk present on his face.

"I told you to leave unless you wanted to join me. And since you did not leave, I came to the conclusion that you, indeed, did want to take part in this and, may I add, I'm most favourably surprised."

"You...! You...!", Harry exclaimed as he could not find the fitting words. "You prick!" He splashed a generous amount of water at Tom and hurriedly jumped out of the bath to the nearest towel. That did not, however, deprive the man of the sight Harry presented naked with his uncovered buttocks. The scene made the man laugh and snicker as he saw the boy blush and shake with embarrassment and anger. "If I'm late for Snape's classes, which I surely am, it's your fault! Again!"Harry left the bathroom, not bothering to pick up his clothes having decided to take some new and not soaked ones from his drawers.

"Ah, and here I was hoping for some more entertainment", Tom complained affably and relaxed in the warm water.

Harry somehow managed it in time for Potions classes and sat irritated next to Hermione, who had asked him about his last night and whether he had or not had enjoyed it.

"I did not enjoy it", he retorted. "And as far as I'm concerned, you should worry about yourself. Have you figured out how to break to Victor that you no longer seek his company?", he asked evilly.

"That surely is none of your concern, dear Harry", she replied. Soon they had to be quiet as Snape shot them one of his nastiest looks. After Potions they had a free period and as Ron disappeared somewhere with a certain Slytherin, Harry dragged Hermione to the library.

"I've got a question", he admitted when they were finally seated on the ground in one of the deserted far ends of the room.

"Well, ask away."

"It's... a weird one."

"Like most of your questions. Go on. Ah, but, remember; Ron's the specialist in the man-love department, not me..."

"Shut it! It's not about m-man-love or anything like that... it's just, well, weird." She eyed him and rested her elbows on her knees and her back on the bookcase.

"I'm listening."

"Well...", he started. He had no idea how to ask the peculiar question and as he stumbled for words he figured out there was no other way, but to ask it directly. "Why would one want to rip the other's heart out of their chest if not for loathing them?", he asked in one breath. As he opened his eyes he saw Hermione go pale.

"Oh, no... did Tom try to...?"

"No, of course he did not!", he retorted, yet he felt a pang of anxiety in his heart at the mention of such a possibility. "It's just hypothetical."

"Um, okay, if you say so..." She did not seem convinced; nevertheless she shrugged it off for now. "Well, I remember having read a story once that included something like that... but it was just a fairytale for children...", the girl wondered as she stood up and went to a bookcase on the other end of the alley. After a while she came back with a small thin blue book. "It's something I found in our first year. As it was my first year dealing with magic I got really captivated by it. It's a collection of fairytales for magical children, but some scenes are quite... drastic and obscene, if you'd ask me. Anyway, here", she opened the book more or less in the middle. "The warlock one. It's about this mage that takes his heart out and something and then kills his fiancée... you'll just have to read it." She gave Harry the book and smiled slightly. "But I sure do hope it was honestly hypothetical."

"Yeah, naturally", he replied as he read the first lines of the story.

Their last classes that day were double DADA. Harry, after having read the story he had been given by Hermione, seemed restless and on edge, but the girl did not want to upset him further by inquiring. Anyway, her worries were soon forgotten, for when they entered the classroom most of them were left speechless.

"Rrefrain from gaping, it's unbecoming to do so", Tom reprimanded them and some of the bravest students started taking their places.

The reason for the commotion was a row of dark clad men standing between the students and the blackboard. None of them had a mask or a hood on; therefore their faces were visible to everyone that dared to look at them. To Draco's and Ron's true horror, Malfoy Senior was among those men.

"As you might have noticed", Tom continued, "those are my followers, known to most of you as the Death Eaters." A gasp escaped those, who had beforehand not realised the men's identity. "I ordered their presence at today's classes, for their assistance will be essential. Undoubtedly not many of you, if any at all, have heard of Legilimency and Occlumency. Yes, Miss Granger, I'm aware of the fact that you have, indeed, heard of it", he was about to explain the definitions, yet he changed his mind. "Very well, Miss Granger, share your wisdom with other students. Perhaps they will profit from it somehow, as some surely are in need of it." The girl's eyes shone and she took a deep breath in. Harry knew this was going to be a long monologue.

"Legilimency as a word has its origins in Latin. 'Legens' means 'a reader', while 'mens' means 'mind'. Put together it means 'mind-reading', however this expression is considered a naive interpretation of the art by its practitioners. More precisely Legilimency is the ability to extract emotions and memories from another person's mind. Occlumency is kind of a preventive method to Legilimency. 'Occulto' means 'to hide, conceal or cover' in Latin, therefore it could be translated as 'concealing the mind'. It is the art of magically defending the mind against external penetration, sealing it against magical intrusion and influence – the defensive counter to Legilimency."

"Well said, Miss Granger", Tom said and then continued, "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, because Legilimency is highly restricted by the Ministry, you shall not learn it until the 7th year and only the very few of you will be granted this honour. As for today's lessons, we shall concentrate on Occlumency. Those who do not wish to have their minds penetrated or do not feel they are able to withstand it, may leave now." No one rose from their seats. The Dark Lord eyed every single student and continued in an ordering voice: "Aberffraw, Boot, Hopkins, Longbottom, Malfoy, Nott, Turpin and Weasley leave the classroom."

This caused quite a commotion among the students, as the mentioned ones started gathering their things slowly and nervously. Only Draco stayed in his place, but when he saw the look the Dark Lord gave him, he also joined the group and left the room. Only a group of no more than 10 students was left.

"Now that we have made it thought the first selection, let's move on", Tom commented. "Occlumency is a necessary prerequisite to defeat a Legilimens' lie-detector abilities without suspicious behaviour such as avoiding face-to-face contact and eye contact. Elementary Occlumency involves clearing the mind of thought and emotion, so that the Legilimens can find no emotional ties to memories that the target wishes to conceal. Simple resistance to attack requires similar skills to those needed to resist the Imperius Curse" he paused here and glanced at Harry. "In its more advanced form, Occlumency allows the user to suppress only feelings and memories that contradict what the user wishes a Legilimens to believe, thus allowing the Occlumens to lie without self-betrayal."

At the end of his speech Riddle looked meaningfully at Severus Snape, who was standing at the end of the row. The man seemed not to notice.

"Now, sit in pairs and each pair will be assigned one of my men", he announced. When the students seated themselves properly he ordered one of his men to the each group and commanded the others to leave the classroom, for they were no longer needed. Finally he stood in front of Harry's and Hermione's desk. "To try and defend your mind you will have to clear all your thoughts or, if you cannot accomplish that yet, concentrate on the memories you wouldn't mind others to see. My men will try to get to your deepest secrets, so beware. First off one person and then, as the first one is recovering from the mental assault, the second one. Do not hurry, Occlumency is an art, where one has to take things slowly, unless he or she wants some permanent psychological damage. Now, start." Tom eyed one girl that was left without a partner and was soon to be pray of Lucius Malfoy, as he was the one assigned to her. He turned his eyes on Hermione. "Miss Granger, keep Miss Patil company, I'm quite sure she'll appreciate it." The girl nodded as she gathered her things and left the desk. First 'Legilimens'!' were heard.

"I don't think I'm any good at it", Harry caught Tom's attention.

"Why is that?"

The younger wizard looked troubled and finally he mumbled his answer.

"Well... last year, when Dumbledore realised there was some kind of connection between my mind and yours, he ordered Snape to teach me Occlumency", he admitted. Tom eyed him and shot an irritated glare at the Potions Master. Harry assumed Snape had somehow concealed the fact from him. "A-anyhow, I really sucked at it, couldn't even keep him from getting to the most private memories…"

"Oh?", Tom looked more interested now.

"Nothing of that manner, mind you", Harry's face flushed. "…mostly my childhood, which, by the way, I'd rather you didn't see. But, what Dumbledore said about the connection, is it true?"

The man traced one long finger along his lips and slowly replied.

"Yes, it somewhat is. There seems to be a connection between us that formed the moment I tried to kill you for the very first time. Hence your nightmares or, rather, visions and flashes from my mind and vice versa. After Nagini's unsuccessful attack on Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore's quick reaction I realised it must have been due to you seeing it. That is when I concentrated on Occlumency again myself. Choosing the exact memories I wanted you to see, sometimes sending false images and blocking every thought I decided was better out of your sight. Now, for example, you did not witness my dream tonight, did you?" Harry shook his head. "You, on the other hand, seem to keep your mind open like a book", he ended and smirked at the boy.

"Well, excuse me! I did stand the Imperio Curse you cast on me two years ago!", he fussed.

"It might be alike, but still, it is not the same", Tom explained. "Anyway, prepare yourself and clear your mind. Also note that you are dealing with the most powerful Legilimens alive", he smirked and without further ado looked the boy in the eyes.

'What? No incantation...?", was Harry's last thought before random images from his whole life started flashing before his eyes and emotions flooded through him at incredible speed. Suddenly he was six years old and uncle Vernon was throwing him into the cupboard under the stairs, on which Dudley was happily jumping, causing all the spiders and dust to fall on the poor boy... Then he was few years older and clumsily doing the dishes in his aunt's kitchen, as Dudley opened his 20th Christmas present that day... Next there were his cousin's friends chasing after him in the alleys near Privet Drive... Then he was younger again, perhaps three years old, and was for the first time in a muggle hospital, when Dudley broke his leg for fun...

"Please, stop!", he exclaimed as he felt two arms catch him before he fell to the ground. He breathed heavily and moaned. "I told you it was a bad idea."

"Shush", Tom tried to calm the younger man, but his own anger was building inside him. "Is that what your whole childhood looked like?"

"Nah, only the pleasant parts", Harry smiled sarcastically and sat in his own chair. His spouse looked at him thin-lipped, but said nothing and stood up. As he walked through the classroom he observed how the other students were doing. When he saw most of the students either faint and pale or red with embarrassment he wondered whether it was too soon to teach them such arts. Then he saw Severus with Gwynedd and had to restrain himself from smirking.

"I had a feeling Occlumency was not unfamiliar for you, Miss Gwynedd", he stated as he neared them. The girl glanced at him and a delicate shade of pink tinted her cheeks.

"Of course, sir", she explained enigmatically and continued her practice with a very irritated Potions Master.

Just seconds before Tom moved on to the next pair he caught Gwynedd blushing rather profusely and Severus' eyebrows shooting high in astonishment. Grinning slightly he checked on Malfoy and the Gryffindor girls and upon seeing pure defeat written all over Granger's face he wondered whether simply kidnapping one of the Golden Trio wouldn't had been enough to make him win the war against the Light Side instead of giving most of his power up.

As there were no more students to check upon, Tom sighed and moved on to his spouse. His good spirits somehow flew away as he reluctantly took a seat next t the other man.

"You will never have to go back there, never again", he said offhandedly, yet his eyes had a look to them that made it hard to believe he was not much concerned about this matter. Harry noticed it and it drew a faint smile to his lips.

"Thank you", he expressed his gratitude. As the silence progressed, disturbed only by spells and spell-induced cries, he desperately tried to find something, anything other to talk with Tom about, but his mind seemed to be constantly drawn to their past. This in turn reminded him again, who the person in front of him was. It was really hard to see similarities between Tom and the man he had been for Merlin knows how long. True, he still had the same red glint in his eyes and bore the same name, but the resemblance ended there.

"Care to give it another try?", Harry broke the silence. Seeing as Tom was about to say something doubtful, he continued. "I promise to give it my best this time." The assurance seemed to be genuine and unwavering determination shone in his eyes, therefore the professor nodded slowly.

"Ready yourself", Tom demanded. The reluctance to continue came from the fact that he, even though he wouldn't admit it to himself, felt something tug at his conscience. He was the reason Harry grew up in a cupboard. He was to blame for countless physical and psychological scars the boy bore. He was at fault and maybe for the first time in his not-so-short life the Dark Lord regretted his past actions. For the first time he felt guilt. Needless to say, he did not enjoy the feeling.

Having had enough of such foolish sentiments, he met his spouse's eyes and leaped into the past's maze.

Surprisingly he only caught a glimpse of his own face, when, albeit reluctant to linger in Harry's mind, he was thrown out by such force that he barely had time to set his own barriers before another presence broke into his mind.

Harry found himself standing in front of a high wall made of gray bricks. There was nothing else around except for white light and thick vague mist. No wind, no sound, nothing palpable. Out of curiosity he reached one hand out. As the first finger grazed the surface of the brick it changed from gray to red and the surroundings swirled rapidly. The red brick remained floating in front of him and out of the corner of his eye he saw something move. It didn't take long for him to make out the sun shining through light-green curtains that waved slowly by the morning breeze and warm-brown walls that surrounded him now.

"Our... bedroom?"

This thought made him look at the spot where the bed was supposed to be. As on his clue, a queen sized bed with dishevelled black sheets materialized out of nowhere. To his surprise, he saw himself asleep contently in Tom's arms. The man was studying his face and running a hand carefully through the boy's more than usually messy hair. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, making the Dark Lord look more human than he had ever thought possible.

As Harry took a step forwards to see if the image was truly real, the scene disappeared. Lost again in the white nothingness, the red brick turned to white and dissolved in air leaving a gaping hole in the grey wall. By it he could see oozing darkness on the other side. He tried to reach one hand through the hole, but his other hand rested on a brick below for support. The other brick changed colour, as the previous one, and the surroundings changed yet again. This time the room was miniscule. There was a big, old and shabby closet by also old looking door. On the other side, under the window, stood two beds – one completely empty, the other occupied by a young, perhaps ten years old boy. It was hard to see the boy's face, as he stared outside the window. The image hazed a bit and Harry heard a knock on the door. A blurred person opened the door and said something unintelligible. Soon the person was replaced by... a very young Dumbledore, with great less wrinkles, brown hair and shorter beard. The image bleared again, but Harry could make out one sentence from Dumbledore:

"You're special", whispered in a soothing voice.

Potter turned his eyes to the young boy, having a strong sense of déjà-vu. On the bed sat, not unlike himself, a boy who had been just told he was a wizard. The boy's face remained cold and expression-less, yet the stormy gray eyes lit at the idea of being... better, exceptional, superior. Harry realised to whom those eyes belonged and a gasp escaped his mouth.

The scene faded out and he was yet again left facing the brick wall, with two empty spots in it. Unsure, he placed his hand once more on a gray brick, promising himself it was the last one. All of a sudden he felt a great blast of wind push him backwards. He caught the nearest thing in front of him and clung for dear life. The wind was too strong and he could feel it tear at his clothing. Yet, somehow, it gave him a feeling of complete freedom.

He opened one eye, careful not to get startled by the wafts of air. To say he was astonished would be an understatement. He was flying on a broomstick in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch and he was holding desperately onto a young man, maybe a year older than him, who wore Slytherin's playing robes. This time too it was hard to see the face, but the dark wavy hair and familiar warmth made it all too obvious. Yet he had to make sure, he had to see. Mesmerized by the moment, he tugged at the man's arms. It seemed the man was made of stone, as Harry was unable to move him in any way; nevertheless he managed to pull himself up. What he saw made him loose his breath.

Indeed, it was Tom, a teenage Tom, older than the one from the diary. He had his eyes half-closed, a genuine smile on his lips. It reminded Harry of the first time he flew on a broomstick. He realised they weren't alone in the Pitch. There were other players, both Slytherin and Gryffindor, the last ones seemingly defeated. The crowd on the spectating seats cheered and Harry could make out the name "Tom!" in the cheering. It must have been the last match that year and clearly thanks to Tom, they won.

The last memory faded out. The gap in the wall was big enough to freely look through it at the other side. He shook the bad feeling off and tried to reach through the hole. He could hear dimmed voices, which turned louder and louder as his hand reached deeper.

"...a freak!"

"You? You're not my son...!"

"...please, don't!"

"A monster!"

"...you'll never..."

"...please no, ...kill me...! Not Ha...!"

"No!"

"...disappointed me..."

"That's enough!", a yell tore him backwards and before he had the chance to even blink, he was back in the classroom, both he and Tom panting heavily. Abruptly the Dark Lord stood up and seethed through clenched teeth: "Out! All of you!"

All sound ceased and no one dared to move, despite the command. This only angered the man further.

"OUT!", he nearly roared and magic started coming off of him in bursts in time with his raging heartbeat. This seemed to finally wake the students and Dark Eathers alike from their stupor and they wasted no time in removing themselves from the classroom. Both Snape and Malfoy cast Tom somewhat concerned glances on their way out and, as they were the last to leave, closed the door soundlessly. Without looking back at the boy, he said: "What did you see behind the wall?", his voice barely over a whisper.

"I've… seen nothing."

"Don't lie!"

Tom turned around, strode towards the boy and pinned him to the chair by grasping the wooden backrest so hard his knuckles turned white. However, Harry held his glare and replied calmly.

"I am not lying. I've seen not a single thing behind that damned wall!"

"Honestly?" Tom's voice was sarcastic and incredulous. "You broke into the Dark Lord's mind and you just took a leisurely strode through it without casting even one single glance at past memories? Bloody bollocks!" He squinted his eyes and noticed Harry put a hand to his forehead as if the scar hurt him as it used to whenever Voldemort lost his composure. Good, the man thought, serves him right. He lowered his face so that their noses nearly touched and went on. "Now that I've seen your childhood, did you yearn to see my own sufferings so much that you couldn't resist and succumbed to such frivolous temptations and plunged into my own mind? Did you wish to see how they abused me at the orphanage? Or maybe you wanted to see how they looked at me as if I were a monster, a freak? How through my entire life I couldn't find one single soul that could be my equal? How I had to make it through an entire lifetime with nothing but pitiful servants kept at my side by pure dread? Is this what you wished to see?"

To his annoyance, the boy only sighed and tried to pull him into an awkward hug by placing both arms around Tom's neck. The Dark Lord shoved them off and took a step back.

"Don't play those female tricks on me, boy. We're both men; face me when I demand this of you!"

"…fine", the raven-haired said and slowly stood up. "Although it was not a female trick, for indeed as you have just mentioned we're both male. I merely wanted to comfort you in some way, but if you're too blinded with anger, then so be it. Either way, I saw nothing behind the wall. I hardly realised where I was! If you have to know, I just saw what you probably kept as good memories, since the barrier consisted of them. Nevertheless, if you hadn't torn me out of there in time, I might have seen something. And for that – I'm sorry", he ended silently. His eyes cast downwards a few times under the man's heavy glare, yet each single time they came back upwards and spoke only truth. The glare remained on Tom's face for countless minutes, at least that's what if felt like to the younger man. Finally Tom sighed and turned around.

"The class is over. I'm sure there will be new gossips all around the castle before dinner if we don't leave soon."

That made Harry smile and, without any notice, he walked up to the man and hugged him tightly from behind. His spouse, taken slightly aback allowed the affection this time.

"Aren't you going to accuse me of feminine hoaxes again?", the bespectacled boy whispered into the layers of clothing, a wide grin present on his face.

"I guess I'll pass this time", the man said, a small smile making its way onto his lips.

"That's good… But Tom?"

"Yes?"

"You don't have a hairy heart, remember that."

Tom remembered the scene from his dream and stiffened. Sensing that, Harry held him closer. At long last he loosened up and was about to place his hands over Harry's, but the boy let him go before he had a chance and started walking towards the door.

"Now," Harry paused both his speech and walk and cast a half-mischievous half-shy look at his husband. "I think I've know of a way to improve your mood."

So, what do you think? Enough of drama and shouting for one chapter? ;P

I have to add - this chapter is based, if you haven't noticed yet, on J.'s story "The Warlock". She mentions the story in one of HP books and she also wrote the entire book containing those stories. I strongly recommend them. Even if they're full of blood and gore. ;P

Preview: After some fanservice Harry accompanies Tom to the interrogatory. Will their relationship survive through yet another fight? And why is Harry so willing all of a sudden? Find out soon!