Warnings for self-harm mentions and sex. I felt like writing angry sex between Tom and Harry, so that's what you're getting. If rough sex isn't your thing, feel free to skip the end of the chapter.


Harry returned straight to his dorm room after his meeting with Dumbledore, planning entirely on sleeping until everything finally started to make sense again.

Tom and Voldemort could wait. There would be so much difficulty in trying to sneak out of Hogwarts now that there were tighter security measures in place, and Harry just couldn't be bothered to risk it tonight.

He didn't even bother to conceal his scowl after seeing the pitying look that Neville and Hermione were giving him, and instead stormed up to his room, placed the ring under his pillow, and drew the curtains shut around his bed. Harry was asleep almost instantly, the stress of the day having exhausted him without him even realising it.

Unfortunately for Harry, he woke up what only seemed like minutes later.

It had almost felt like his bed had been shaking, but everything seemed to be back to normal now.

At least, it was until he heard Seamus shout something incoherent.

Harry blinked the sleep out of his eyes and yanked his curtains back, the dark sky outside the window revealing he must have been asleep for two hours at least.

Seamus was standing by the window, staring open-mouthed out of it.

Harry heard the other boys open their curtains too, and, realising something must have happened to make them all wake up, he opened his mouth to ask Seamus what was wrong, but his words were drowned out by a loud bang that echoed off the stone walls and made the floor shake violently.

They all scrambled to Seamus's side, where clearly visible in the distance were bright orange flames and thick black smoke spreading across the landscape, clear despite the night sky.

"What is that?" Dean muttered astounded, his voice still sleepy though his eyes were wide and alert.

Seamus shrugged, but they all turned with a start when footsteps echoed outside their door.

The door swung open, revealing Hermione in a pink dressing gown and with her hair bushier than usual. She ran over to them, covering her mouth with her hand as she took in the sight of the flames.

"That's Hogsmede!" she whispered, horrified.

It was impossible to see what was going on from how far away they were, but the fire seemed to be spreading, and muffled screams were being carried down the wind.

Harry felt so useless, standing in his dorm room while watching people lose their homes and possible their lives. How was so much evil happening in such a short space of time? Harry, like any teenager would, hadn't truly realised how serious the war was, but now it seemed like the Wizarding World was crumbling before their very eyes.

Green smoke started to rise into the air, forming into the shape of a snake and skull, and Ron swore loudly.

So Voldemort hadn't wanted to be outdone. That had to be it; Marvolo struck the Hogwarts Express, so Voldemort struck the village just outside of the school. If the two Dark Lords could attack the children, the parents would panic, and chaos would descend from the inside. They didn't need to get inside Hogwarts to ruin it.

Neville suddenly gasped loudly, clutching his hands over his forehead. His eyes seemed to roll back in his head, and Ron grabbed hold of him, dragging him off to the side and shaking his shoulders.

Harry tore his attention off Neville and back onto the destruction of Hogsmede. His eyes fell on the Dark Mark that was glittering in the sky; it was almost as if the blank holes for eyes were truly there, staring right into the fractured piece of his soul.

Yes, the Wizarding World was falling apart, and Harry knew now more than ever that he had to do everything he could to ensure that the sole victor was Tom.


The following morning, the mood throughout Hogwarts was tense and sombre.

Students walked to the Great Hall in tight packs, whispering in hushed tones with one another, and glancing around nervously.

Dumbledore gave an inspirational as he could speech, but the task was made more difficult by the constant flow of students leaving the Great Hall while owls dropped constant letters, all requests of parents for their children to pack their things ready to leave. Harry couldn't understand why they would want their children to leave; now they were actually inside Hogwarts, they were as safe as they could be, from Voldemort at least.

Draco caught Harry's eye and inclined his head, and when they were finally able to leave the Hall, Draco and Luna hung back. Thankfully Harry got the hint, and also took his time, meeting up with the pair once everyone else had departed for their Common Rooms.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Draco asked, and Harry nodded.

"Not outside," he answered; it just didn't feel safe to leave the confines of the castle walls.

Draco nodded in agreement, and slid his hand into Luna's. Luna gave Harry a serene smile, her eyes gazing lovingly up at Draco. Despite everything that had happened, seeing Draco and Luna so happy and comfortable together seemed to put Harry at ease.

They walked silently through the deserted hallways, until they came across a classroom that was far away from every House location, which would save students seeing them and wonder what they were doing.

"Mother sent me a letter," Draco told Harry as Luna placed Silencing Charms on the door. "The Dark Lord was apparently furious that the Wizarding World's attention was on the train attack which was perpetrated by somebody else, so he got the Death Eaters to invade everyone's home in Hogsmede and kill the occupants in their sleep before blowing up the village."

"Did anyone survive?" Harry asked, although he had a sinking suspicion he already knew the answer.

"No," Draco answered, confirming what Harry had suspected. "The Aurors didn't get there fast enough."

"Nobody will feel safe anymore," Luna added, her eyes sorrowful. "Really, the Dark side have already won; all they need to do now is take out the people who might take their prize away from them."

"The Ministry is falling, and the prisons and hospitals are already lost," Draco agreed. "Once the school goes, the Light have nothing but their determination."

"But it's been a joint effort between two Dark Lords," Harry reminded them. "They won't exist peacefully side by side forever, and sooner or later they will attack each other, and that gives the Light side an advantage."

"And Tom will be waiting until that moment, won't he?" Luna nodded, twirling a lock of her dirty blonde hair around her finger. "They all underestimate him because he's young, but that means nothing. Patience is Tom's weapon."

"He will win," Harry said confidently, though his inner feelings did not reflect that statement. He knew Tom was powerful and determined, but Marvolo and Voldemort were both forces to be reckoned with. With Dumbledore weakening, the Light side didn't really stand a chance, but Marvolo wanted Tom dead, and Voldemort would as soon as he didn't need Tom any longer. "What will happen if the school shuts before you complete your task?"

The thought hadn't occurred to Harry until just now, but Draco didn't look thoughtful; rather he looked away quickly.

"Draco?" Harry pressed on, and the Slytherin pulled his gaze back to Harry.

"Before we left for Christmas, Luna and I went to the room to have some, ah, alone time, but Luna had a sudden idea about the Cabinet," Draco answered quietly. "We-we managed to fix it."

"And I take it Voldemort doesn't know?" Harry questioned; keeping that from Voldemort over the holidays must have been dreadful for Draco.

"No," Draco shook his head. "If I let Death Eaters in, then I have to kill Dumbledore on the same night. I'm-I'm not ready for that at the moment. I want to be; I need to be, but I just can't do it yet."

"Couldn't your mother hide? Your dad is wanted by Voldemort anyway, so why not the both of them? Then you don't have the pressure; I could get Tom to keep you safe," Harry told the other boy, doubting his own words; Tom would only ever do what he wanted, and he didn't care for Draco.

"No; we'd lose everything," Draco said, hanging his head. "The manor, our gold, everything; it would all go to Aunt Bellatrix, and she would hand it over to the Dark Lord in an instance. No, I have to prepare myself; it's the only way."

Draco sighed, and wrapped his arm around Luna, who rested her head on his shoulder. They seemed so serene and peaceful, and for a fleeting moment, Harry wished he could have a normal relationship where he could just hug somebody and feel safe and warm, but he couldn't imagine what things would be like without Tom. Harry knew that their relationship was twisted, and as much as Tom claimed he could be, Harry was never going to be equal to Tom, but his love for Tom only seemed to grow stronger day by day. Harry just hoped that was enough to keep him going while everything else Harry knew was shattering around him.


The week seemed to move on slowly.

Classes resumed on the Tuesday, with Dumbledore deciding that if they were going to fight to keep Hogwarts open, then they should treat it like a school rather than a sanctuary. Returning to lessons, even in smaller numbers, allowed a lot of the students to continue on as normal; their pretence that everything was okay in some ways allowed them to believe that that was the truth. Harry knew that deep down, nobody really believed it, but it was a coping mechanism for them.

Harry couldn't quite understand how some people could laugh and chat when people from their dormitory had been dragged from Hogwarts by their parents, or when people they used to see on a daily basis had perished in the train attack.

It was strange; Harry seemed to go through phases where he'd be upset but coping, while other times he felt strangely apathetic, but it angered him to see other people with that same void. Harry wasn't sleeping well either; he'd been having nightmares about the attack on the train, hearing the screams of the dying students echo through his head. Sometimes when he woke up, he would still hear them screaming and begging for help.

It was no doubt a mix of both his lack of sleep and anger that finally made him snap on Friday morning.

He arrived in the Great Hall just in time to see Heather sprinting out of it.

Harry would have gone after her, had he not seen the look of revulsion on Seamus's face as he watched Heather leave.

Feeling far braver than he could ever remember when speaking to his classmates, Harry stormed over to Seamus and demanded to know what he had said to Heather to upset her so much.

"She's got cuts all up her arm," the sandy-haired boy had replied with a tone of disgust. "I don't want anything to do with a nutcase."

Harry could feel the eyes of what felt like everybody staring at them, listening. Heather must have felt humiliated.

How had Seamus had the nerve to mock Heather in public like that? People were dying, and all he cared about was mindless gossip. Had he even considered to try and help Heather? True, Harry hadn't either, but that was because he didn't know how. At least he hadn't shunned a girl who clearly needed support.

Harry's fist smashed into Seamus's nose before he could even think about what he was doing.

He heard everyone around them gasp, and heard Seamus's howl of pain, but all Harry could focus on was the warm blood that was dripping down onto his clenched fingers.

Harry shivered as a wave of lust washed over him, before dissolving into horror. Merlin, how had that felt good, if only for a minute?

Harry spun around and ran from the Great Hall, ignoring McGonagall calling after him.

Without even thinking about where he was going, Harry ran as fast as he could to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, hitting the door open so hard that it swung and hit the wall with a loud bang.

Heather was sat between two sinks, slouching against the wall with her knees drawn to her chest and arms folded on top of them. Her face was buried in her arms, and she didn't even look up at the sound of the door slamming open.

Myrtle was watching mournfully with pearly white tears flowing silently down her cheeks.

"Heather," Harry announced softly, moving over to kneel in front of his sister. "It's alright, Heather; if anyone says anything to you they'll regret it."

Heather didn't respond, so Harry placed a hand over one of hers, moving his fingers in circles.

"I already knew," Harry continued, feeling the need to fill the silence. "I found out just before the Christmas holidays, but I didn't know what to say or do, and I didn't want Mum to hear anything. I'm sorry I didn't try hard enough to help you. I should have done something."

"No, you shouldn't have," Heather said finally, looking up at Harry with teary eyes. "It's my problem; you shouldn't have to worry about me."

"You're my little sister; of course I'm going to worry," Harry said firmly, managing to produce a shaky smile for Heather. "I just don't like to see you hurting like this."

Heather didn't answer, instead gazing into space.

"It's just so difficult," she said after a moment, her voice quiet and distant. "There was so much pressure to be perfect, and I couldn't take it anymore. I had all of these friends, and was doing so well in lessons, but it had to stay that way, and after the end of last year, it just got ever harder. I know Romilda is probably dead, no matter what Tom says, and all of these other people just keep dying, and I feel so selfish for doing this to myself when other people are suffering, but I don't know any other way to cope anymore."

"You're not selfish," Harry stated quietly. "We're a world at war, and you've had to grow up so fast to deal with it; I've seen how you've changed this year, and not just you; all of us. You're fourteen, Heather; nobody expects you to be an adult, even if it feels like you have to be. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, but please, I'm asking you as your brother, please talk to somebody. I'm not expecting you to stop right away, but the thought of you feeling the need to hurt yourself, well, it's difficult to think about. Nobody should eve feel that way about themselves; you're better than that. "

Heather nodded, leaning forwards to wrap her arms around Harry. They stayed like that for a while, Harry allowing Heather to cry into his shoulder until she felt at least somewhat better.

But there was that rage bubbling again, a newfound hatred for Seamus coursing through his veins. Seamus had made a mockery of Heather, which meant he had made a mockery of Harry too; Seamus had to pay.

It took Harry far too long to realise that those twisted thoughts in his head were speaking to him in Tom's voice.


Another night passed without Harry sleeping well, and on Saturday morning he woke up with a desperate urge to see Tom.

He hadn't minded not seeing Tom for a few days, but all of a sudden he seemed to miss the man terribly, but had no idea how he would get about going to Malfoy Manor. The only option he could think of was to ask his dad, who was still helping in the castle on Order duty, to help him sneak out.

On his way through the dungeons to get the Portkey from Draco, he spotted Heather and Theodore Nott talking in hushed tones with one another. Theo had a hand over his covered wrist, which made Harry imagine they could only be talking about one thing. Harry liked Theo, and if Heather had chosen to confide in the quiet Slytherin, Harry really had no issues with it.

Harry used the Marauder's Map to ensure that his mother wasn't around; he doubted she would let Harry leave, and then knocked on the door to the room his dad was staying in.

James smiled when he answered the door, and quickly ushered Harry inside.

"Everything alright?" his dad asked, and Harry nodded, deciding to cut to the chase.

"I want to see Tom," he said bluntly, and James blinked. "I have a Portkey, but I need you to cover for me if anyone asks."

"Do you want your mum to kill me?" James muttered, but he sighed and nodded. "You know, in my day, we used to sneak out of Hogwarts to do things much more fun. Listen, just be back by the morning."

"Thank you," Harry grinned, hugging his father tightly before activating the Portkey. He hadn't told Tom he was coming, but he didn't think Tom would too busy that he'd have to send Harry away. Besides, he had the ring for Voldemort, plus the amulet still needed activating, so it wasn't like his trip would be wasted on the off-chance Tom wasn't available.

The Manor was quiet when Harry arrived so he called for Dobby, who gladly led him to where Tom and Voldemort were. Harry genuinely did like the House-elf, and he felt sorry for Dobby having to work for a family who abused him and treated him like dirt.

"Dobby will inform Sirs of your arrival," Dobby told Harry, and Harry was surprised when Voldemort answered the door rather than Tom.

The Dark wizard seemed to look more threatening than usual, towering over Harry and looking down at him with flashing crimson eyes.

Thankfully, Harry had had the ring in his pocket, and brought it out into the light for Voldemort to see before the man could question why he was there.

Voldemort snatched it off him, the skin of his fingers icy cold against Harry's. The Dark Lord turned the ring over in his grasp, presumably checking that it was genuine.

"How did you come by it?" Voldemort snapped, and once again, Harry was relieved that he was prepared.

"Dumbledore gave it to Neville, and I stole it from him in our dorm room," Harry lied. He didn't think Voldemort believed him, but the man said nothing and stalked back into the room, with Harry close on his tail before the door shut in his face.

Tom glanced up at Harry, but quickly turned his attention back onto the book he was reading. Voldemort was handing the amulet out to Harry, making Tom's reaction understandable.

Harry took the amulet from Voldemort, careful not to touch the ice cold skin of the Dark wizard again, and shut his eyes, allowing waves of natural magic to wash over the amulet. Harry snapped his eyes open when the amulet began to shake, watching in awe as it glowed gold, sending glittering dust falling to the floor.

As the colour and shaking died down, Voldemort snatched it off Harry and placed it around his own neck until it disappeared beneath his robes.

Tom caught Harry's eye, and Harry read the smirk behind the gaze; he had almost forgotten Tom had cursed the amulet.

"Dismissed," Voldemort stated with a wave of his hand, and Harry was quick to comply before Voldemort's mood changed for the worst.

He heard Tom get up and follow him, but the man said nothing until they reached their bedroom.

Harry was about to say something, but as he crossed over into the threshold of the room, the whispering started again. Unlike the other times, when the words were hard to make out, this time he could hear what the whispers were saying clearly.

"Wardrobe. Wardrobe," the voice said, and Harry had no idea what it meant until his eyes focused on the tall mahogany wardrobe in the corner of the room.

Ignoring Tom's questioning look, Harry very nearly ran to the closet and grasped hold of the handle to open it.

He jumped back in shock when an obviously dead body crumpled at his feet.

"A gift for Nagini," Tom murmured, speaking for the first time. "Very freshly dead; she likes them warm." He waved his wand and sent the corpse back into the wood, shutting the door to block out the sight of murder.

"Tom, what's happening to me?" Harry asked, his voice smaller than intended. "What am I hearing?"

"I really have no idea what you mean, dear," Tom answered blandly, though his eyes were watching Harry intently.

"I hear whispers. I heard that-that man tell me where his body was," Harry told Tom, his voice hushed as though he daren't speak of it any louder.

"How long has it been happening for?" Tom questioned with mild interest.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. He knew it hadn't been that long, but he couldn't remember the exact day. Oh wait-it had been when they visited the graveyard; the day after getting back from the Veil. "Fuck," Harry muttered, clutching his hands to the side of his head. "The Veil! They said there would be consequences for bringing Sirius back, and now I'm hearing the dead!" Harry groaned, hitting the sides of his head repeatedly.

"Calm down," Tom snapped. And there came that rage again.

"Don't tell me to calm down," Harry hissed, and Tom looked taken aback for a moment. "I have been hearing dead people whisper things to me. I have had Marvolo Slytherin try to kill my friends and attack me, and I have had these stupid emotions that go up and down and are starting to make me feel like I'm going crazy."

Harry's chest was heaving with anger, so how was Tom able to just stand there and look bored?

"For one, try listening closer to the whispers and see what they have to say. You obviously can handle yourself, otherwise you would be in Marvolo's clutches right now, and did you honestly expect to split your soul and have things carry on as normal?" Tom stated, his tone sharp as if he were a professor reprimanding Harry for a stupid mistake he had made in class.

"What? You knew this would happen?" Harry asked, shocked, and Tom looked at him as if he was an idiot.

"I didn't realise you wouldn't," Tom said plainly.

"How could I possible know that?" Harry snapped, and with strength he didn't know he had, he stormed towards Tom and slammed him against the wall. "Why have you done this to me?"

Tom had the audacity to smirk. "You chose to create the Horcrux yourself, Harry. You killed for it, you split your soul. You're the one who allows your emotions to run away with themselves. You have nobody but yourself to blame."

"I hate you," Harry spat, punching his fists against Tom's chest. "I hate you so much."

"No you don't," Tom disagreed, and Harry let out a sob, because Tom was right. He couldn't hate Tom, no matter what Tom did or said. He needed Tom like he needed air, and he'd given him his heart and soul, and what Harry really hated was that he couldn't ever hate Tom, no matter what he did.

Feeling like he was about to burst into furious tears, Harry instead pushed up on his toes and kissed Tom hard.

Tom kissed him back harder.

No, Harry could never hate Tom, not when his kisses were as addicting as breathing, and when Tom's fingertips felt so good digging into Harry's skin. The mixture of pleasure and pain that Tom created in Harry was exhilarating and the only thing that remained the same in Harry's breaking world.

Harry let out a shout of surprise when Tom pushed out and switched their positions, shoving Harry into the wall face first, and pressed his chest against his back. Harry could feel Tom' arousal pressing into his lower back, grinding against him, and he groaned as Tom bit down hard on the lobe of his ear.

"You would be lost without me, darling," Tom hissed, pressing a hand against the back of Harry's head. "You would destroy yourself until you were nothing but a rotting carcass of flesh and bone. I guide your destruction to make you perfect for me."

Harry hissed as Tom pulled on Harry's hair to yank his head back, and then pushed his face back into the wall, not quite hard enough for anything to break, but still enough to send a jolt of pain across his forehead and nose.

"You. Need. Me," Tom hissed, slamming Harry's head against the wall after every word.

Ignoring the pain, Harry elbowed Tom sharply in the side and span himself around, grabbing the back of Tom's neck and pulled him into another bruising kiss. Tom was standing flush against Harry, his hands sneaking under the waistline of Harry's jeans and pressing his nails into the skin there.

Harry moaned and lifted his legs to wrap around Tom's waist, their clothed erections rubbing against each other frantically. Tom's hands moved to quickly tug Harry's jeans down and lower his own trousers, and then Tom's hands were grasping Harry's thighs and lifting him up slightly, dragging his sharp nails across the curve of Harry's arse.

Harry dropped his head onto Tom's shoulder and bit down through Tom's shirt. Tom growled and muttered a spell, and suddenly Harry's entrance felt slick, and the head of Tom's cock was pressing against his hole, pushing inside him desperately.

Harry gasped and threw his head back against the wall as Tom entered him roughly. One of his hands grasped at the fabric on Tom's back, while the other pulled at the buttons of Tom's shirt, tugging until Tom's smooth skin was visible, the strikingly pale skin contrasting beautiful with the black of the shirt. Tom was like that though; a beautiful contrast between light and dark, and the body of an angel with a heart made from sin.

Harry pressed his hand hard against Tom's warm chest, his fingers clenching as Tom moved in and out of him furiously, filling Harry completely with Tom.

Tom dropped his head to attack Harry's neck, biting every inch of skin that was on offer. His cock was pounding roughly against Harry's prostate, biting down on Harry's neck time, giving him constant pleasure with jolts of blissful pain.

Harry closed his eyes, and then cold lips were on Harry's, a tongue forcing its way inside his mouth, plundering and domineering. He moaned into the kiss, thrusting his hips to meet Tom's, and then Tom bit down hard on Harry's lower lip, and a taste of copper filled Harry's mouth.

Tom sucked at the wound as he thrust harder, and once against the feeling of blood sent an unexplained wave of lust and arousal rushing through Harry.

He opened his eyes as he heard Tom hiss.

"Watch your claws, my dear," Tom said darkly, and Harry dropped his eyes to Tom's chest, where small droplets of blood had formed underneath Harry's fingers. Harry drew his hand back, licking the red from his fingertips. The claws, a result of his Animagus crawling out of him in the heat of the moment, sliced perfectly across his bitten lip, and Tom's mouth was back, claiming Harry and his blood once more.

Tom began to thrust even harder, the force of it slamming Harry's back into the wall every time. One of his hands stopped its clawing at Harry's thigh and wrapped around his cock instead, stroking him every time Tom slammed into Harry's prostate.

"You are mine!" Tom hissed. "You are nothing without me; you don't even have a soul to call your own. I complete you, and you belong to me!"

Harry released with a cry at Tom's words, spilling himself over Tom's fingers. Tom thrust violently as he came, filling Harry with his release. Tom bit back down on Harry's sore lip, tugging it into his mouth to suck on the wound.

As Tom pulled back, his hand dropped from Harry's thigh, and the other came up to Harry's face. Harry took the long digits into his mouth and licked his release off of them, and then Tom's fingers were gone and his mouth was back on Harry's.

"My corruption has changed you," Tom commented, pulling Harry's hand off his cut chest. "Your innocence is still there, always lingering, but the taint on your soul is divine."

"I thought you liked how innocent I used to be," Harry muttered, not sure if he truly meant the resentment in his tone.

Tom smiled darkly, pressing his fingers into the cut on Harry's lip.

"Your innocence was sweet, but my sin tastes sweeter."


I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Next time, Tom will be revealing just how he feels about a certain fellow named Marvolo.

I always believed that creating a Horcrux isn't just a simple case of committing a horrific ritual and leaving it as that. There must be more to it than just one period of pain, otherwise every Dark witch and wizard would have Horcruxes. Rowling showed us how over the years, Tom's appearance changed with each Horcrux, and how he seemed to descend into insanity the more he split his soul (and Voldemort being both insane and a genius is what makes him so terrifying.)

So the emotional impact of splitting one's soul must be incredibly difficult to both live with and control. I feel sorry for Harry because the main reason he has a Horcrux is because Tom wanted him to have one, and what Tom wants, he gets. And of course Tom wasn't going to tell Harry all the horrible details about the impact of creating a Horcrux, because he couldn't risk Harry rejecting the idea. Tom was Harry's only source of information on how to do it, so everything Harry knew was just what Tom wanted him to know, and Harry accepted it because he trusted Tom.

So yes, I somehow ended up giving myself lots of TomxHarry shipper feels while writing this chapter.

And on a very wonderful note, how excited are you all about the new Harry Potter movie that Rowling is screenwriting for? I'm literally bouncing around with happiness.