AN - Sooo... A lot has changed in two years, huh? I got pregnant, had a baby and am now writing professionally. I'm busier than I've ever been but every time I get a new favorite or a review on this story I feel as guilty as I've ever felt for letting it sit un-updated. Once I noticed that there are 400 freaking people waiting for this to be finished, the guilt won out and I've been writing in my iphone's notes every chance I get. I do hope you guys like this chapter. I had fun writing it and I have the next one already started.

Harry gazed at his ransacked room, stunned. His chests were overturned, both his own and his roommate's clothes strewn about and hanging from the bunk beds. Realization dawned on him and he quickly pulled out his bottom dresser drawer. The contents had been removed so the drawer seemed empty, but he lifted the false bottom and felt around for what he hoped was still there. He sighed in relief as his hand hit a hard mass, Toms journal hidden inside his cloak.

Harry heard footsteps coming up the stairs behind him and quickly shut the drawer.

"What the bloody-" Ron started, his eyes going wide at the sight of his torn apart room. He immediately noticed a pair of his underpants hanging from the doorknob and snatched them off, blushing.

"Who did this?!" Seamus asked as he entered the room behind Ron.

"I have no idea. Should we get McGonagall?" Harry asked, beginning to pick up his belongings.

"On it," Ron said, bolting out of the room to find their head of house.

"Harry!" Harry heard Hermione call him from the common room. He abandoned his efforts to collect his clothes and went down to tell her what had happened.

"Hermione, our room-" He started.

"Harry, our room is completely torn apart! Just mine and Ginny's, everyone else in the girl's dorm seems unaffected." Harry took in a quick breath. If theirs were the only rooms that had been upturned, it meant something new was starting. Harry wasn't so ignorant as to assume that the Dark Lord, now returned to power, would leave him alone after the incident in the graveyard.

"Did they take anything?" He asked her.

"Not that I can tell. If they took anything, it wasn't anything we'd notice. What do you think they could have been looking for?" Hermione thought out loud.

Harry didn't respond. Though he couldn't be certain, he had a sneaking suspicion that whoever it was had been hunting for Toms journal. He didn't know what they could want with it, but it had once been in Lucius's possession, and now Voldemort was in charge of him again. Harry wasn't sure what exactly the connection was, but he had to assume a connection existed.

At that moment, both McGonagall and Dumbledore strode into the Gryffindor common room. Without saying a word to each other, McGonagall strode up to the stairs to the girl's dorm and Dumbledore began heading towards the boys. Harry followed behind him.

"Sir, who do you think could have done this?" Harry asked him.

"I don't know, Harry. However, with Voldemort back in power, it is a safe assumption that it was someone loyal to him. How they got in is what I'm currently most concerned with." Dumbledore didn't look back at him as he spoke. Harry was quickly getting tired of being treated like a pariah by the older man. Even if they were the only two people in a room, Dumbledore made him feel insignificant.

"Harry, what do you think they were looking for?" Dumbledore questioned.

Harry didn't skip a beat in lying to the headmaster. "I couldn't tell you, professor. Voldemort already has my blood in his veins. I didn't suppose he'd need anything else from me so soon."

Dumbledore was quiet at that. Instead of questioning him further, he began casting spells on the room, presumably to find out if the perpetrator had left behind any clues.

Harry sighed and headed back downstairs, tired of being ignored by the man. Ron, Hermione, and Seamus were sitting together on the large, plush red rug in the common room. Harry sat beside Seamus and did his best to reign in his annoyance. Between having his belongings torn and thrown about and Dumbledore giving him the cold shoulder, it wasn't turning out to be a great day.

"What did Dumbledore have to say?" Hermione asked immediately.

"So far he doesn't know how the intruder got in. He's inspecting now, but I get the feeling he won't find anything." Harry answered.

"McGonagall is doing the same in our dorm. How on earth could someone have gotten in unnoticed? The dorms are never completely empty. I already asked the fat lady and she said she didn't let anyone in who wasn't in Gryffindor." That was definitely odd. In their third year, Sirius hadn't been able to get into Gryffindors rooms, and he was a very adept wizard.

They brainstormed for a while longer, asking each other questions about who had done it, how, and what the thief was looking for. Harry offered little in the way of suggestions, his mind stuck on the fact the Dumbledore was unknowingly alone with Tom in his bedroom. At least, he hoped Dumbledore hadn't yet found him.

After Dumbledore and McGonagall wrapped up their search and left, neither answering any of the young Gryffendor's questions, Harry spent the remainder of the evening cleaning up with Ron, Seamus, and Neville.

"Are you alright mate?" Ron asked him softly so the other boys wouldn't hear as they chattered to each other about this exciting new turn of events. "We both know they were looking for something of yours. Are you freaking out?"

Harry appreciated his best friends concern, as he always did, but he was just so fed up. He knew he would snap at Ron if he had to answer the dreaded question of "are you alright" one more time in this lifetime. No, he wasn't alright. No, he'd never be alright as long as Voldemort still lived. As long as Cedric Diggory was still dead in his place.

His shoulders sagged as he gazed at his friend, eyes empty. Ron, though not always quick on the uptake, could see clearly that Harry wasn't in the mood to talk. They finished their work in silence.

It took hours to put the disheveled room back together. By the time they were done, each boy was exhausted. They mumbled quick goodnights and retired for the night. Harry fought his exhaustion, waiting until he heard his roommate's breath start to even out.

After some time, Ron began his telltale snoring and Harry cast a silencing charm. He leaned over and pulled the journal out of it's home in the false bottom of his dresser and opened it, casting the faintest lumos so he could just barely see the book clearly.

'Tom.'

'Harry.' Their exchanged often began like this.

'It's starting again.' Harry didn't have to explain further. Tom knew that meant that something new and terrible would soon be happening to Harry.

'What is it this time?' Tom asked.

'Our dorm room was broken into. With Voldemort back, it was definitely one of his people. The only thing I can think that they'd be looking for…'

'Is me.' Tom said bluntly. It was a logical conclusion.

'What would they want with your journal?' Harry asked.

'They'd likely want to give me to the Dark Lord.'

'Well yeah, but what I can't figure out is why. I mean, Voldemort has his body back. He's once again the most powerful wizard in the world, next to Dumbledore. I don't see what he could gain from obtaining your journal.' Harry was glad to be discussing this issue with Tom. He didn't have to hide any of the facts like he did with Ron and Hermione.

'I couldn't tell you.' Harry grimaced. He'd expected a more thought out response from the older boy.

'Do you mean you couldn't tell me because you don't know or because you know and don't want to tell me?' After three, nearly four years, Tom still hadn't confided in Harry as to what spell he'd used to bind himself to the journal. While he was keeping the secret of Toms existence from his friends, he wasn't the only one here adept at withholding information.

'The latter. I know you're going to want to grill me, but please leave well enough alone on this subject for just a little while longer Harry. What matters is that the thief didn't find me and won't risk tearing apart your room again with the schools attention on the matter.'

Harry wanted to demand that Tom Riddle tell him what he knew, but after spending years with the brunette in the book, he knew better than to waste his time.

'Does that mean you are going to tell me?' Harry asked instead.

'Eventually. When the time is right. As long as I'm with you and in Hogwarts, we're both out of the Dark Lords reach, so let's focus on the task at hand. Who could have gotten in? You said it was probably a death eater, but I greatly doubt that. It makes much more sense that it would be a student. No death eater could get past the wards.' Tom made a good point. If he'd come to that conclusion so quickly, that meant Dumbledore had as well. Harry bristled at the fact that the headmaster had once again neglected to give him all of the information about a situation involving himself.

'If we're assuming it's a student, the answer is pretty obvious.'

'The Malfoy boy.' Harry had told Tom enough about Draco over the years to give him a clear idea of what the younger Malfoy was capable of. 'That makes a lot of sense, actually. Lucius tried to wreak havoc on the school in your second year using my power. However, when nothing ever happened, he had to assume that my journal was never used, or it was misplaced by Ginny. You were there with her that day, so he probably had Draco ransack your room just in case it ended up with you.'

'That doesn't answer how Draco got into Gryffindor tower.' Harry responded, though he had to admit Tom's theory was solid. His theories usually were.

'Unfortunately, I can't begin to guess how exactly he got in, but it doesn't really matter right now anyway. He won't try again. It would be suicide. He knows he's lucky he's gotten away with it so far.' Harry knew Tom was correct. Draco was a prat, but he wasn't a stupid prat.

'Why do you think it took this long for Lucius to try to locate the journal?' Harry pondered.

'Because his master is back. He didn't have the motivation to get it back before.'

'I know Draco most likely wouldn't try a second attempt, especially since he didn't find anything the first time, but I don't really feel safe having you in my room anymore. I think it might be a good idea to relocate you.' Harry hated putting the thought out into the world, but it needed to be said. If Lucius Malfoy was on the hunt for the journal, he wouldn't stop until he found it. Especially not if he was looking for it based on a command from Voldemort.

'I was afraid you'd say that. We won't be able to talk as often.'

'I know. But you sleep in between anyway, right? So it won't seem like such a big deal to you.' Harry left out how big of a deal it would be to himself to not be able to talk to Tom on a nightly basis.

'Actually, ever since I manifested myself for you, I've been able to choose whether or not I sleep. If I please, I can stay awake.' Harry's eyes went wide as he read the words, watching as they sunk into the paper. The thought of Tom stuck in the book for days, awake, horrified Harry.

'Why on earth would you ever choose to stay awake? And that happened weeks ago. Why wouldn't you tell me sooner that something like that had changed for you?' Harry wrote quickly.

'I knew you'd be worried. I only stay awake when I want to think or read through our old conversations. I'm not a masochist. Like I've said in the past, I don't fancy eternal loneliness.' Harry's eyes got stuck on one sentence in particular.

'... Read through our old conversations?' He could already feel himself blushing. He assumed that when the ink faded, it was never to be seen again. It had made him comfortable, so comfortable that he'd told Tom just about everything. He'd told Tom intimate details about how he was feeling since the incident in the graveyard, and even more intimate thoughts about Cho Chang the year previous. Tom hadn't seemed especially keen on the girl talk, so Harry had stopped confiding in him as much about that particular topic.

'Yes, I quite enjoy reading through our conversations Harry. You've come such a long way since we first met. I find it fascinating how powerful you're becoming in such a short time. You're growing at a rate that the Dark Lord could only have dreamed of at your age.' Harry blanched.

'You knew him?' Suddenly, certain facts clicked into place. The way Tom spoke about Voldemort always seemed so casual. So familiar. He had also been alive 50 years ago when Voldemort was just beginning to become the Dark Lord.

'In a way... Harry, can I see you?' Tom asked. Harry felt a sudden sense of whiplash. His stomach had sunk at the prospect of Tom knowing Voldemort, and suddenly it was all butterflies. He'd only seen the older boy once, and he'd been able to think of nothing else other than the next time it would happen ever since.

'I... yes. I'll take you now. Give me just a while and then I'll give you the go ahead.' Harry hastily shut the book and draped his cloak around himself. Logistically speaking, this wasn't a fantastic time for Harry to sneak out. He was genuinely exhausted, the stress of today thoroughly weighing on him now. He wasn't going to deny a request to see Tom, however, since it happened so rarely.

Harry padded down the halls quietly in his sock feet. At this point, he could find the Room of Requirement with his eyes closed. Once he arrived, he did his usual pacing and was pleased to walk into the same room that he and Tom had been in the last time he was there. He settled onto the plush red couch across from the brick fireplace and set the journal down on the oakwood coffee table. He asked the room for a quill and scrawled, 'Okay, we're ready.'

Tom didn't waste any time. Harry felt the pull on his body, the sensation of energy leaving him. It really wasn't so bad, he thought for a second time. Harry wasn't the most physically fit person in the world, but he felt less like he had run a few miles this time around.

He was still recovering when he felt the presence of another person on the couch next to him. A knee was pressing into his own. Harry looked up into amber eyes and smiled.

"Do you feel better this time?" Tom asked immediately.

"Yeah, actually. Did you do something different?" Harry responded.

"I've been playing with the idea of tapping magical energy instead of physical energy in order to manifest. I hoped that it would be less physically exhausting for you, however, I'm not sure what the exact effects will be on your magic. You'll have to let me know how it goes tomorrow. If your abilities don't come back to you fairly quickly, this won't be a viable solution." Harry thought this was an oddly thoughtful response. Had this been what Tom was staying awake to think about? He smiled inwardly at the thought.

"How have you been, Harry?" Tom asked, his posture utterly perfect. He looked so out of place in this lush room dressed in his pristinely pressed Slytherin uniform and not a hair out of place. Harry could hardly resist the temptation to ruffle it.

"Well… I've been better?" He'd nearly said fine, but that wasn't exactly the truth. Stress had become his default emotion since the events of last year.

"I imagine so. I'm worried about not being able to talk to you as frequently. I don't like not knowing how you're doing." The brunette said.

"Oh, you know me. I'm resilient, like a cockroach. There could be a nuclear war and I'd still somehow manage to survive." Harry said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I'd hardly describe you like a cockroach-" Tom stopped mid-sentence and snatched Harry's hand out of the air. "What the hell is this?"

Harry's heart sunk. How had he forgotten? I will not tell lies was still bright red on the back of his hand, fresh from the previous night's detention session. Toms' hand had a viselike grip around his wrist. He'd never seen the pure rage in the other boys face, though he supposed he'd only seen him once before, so he didn't have much to compare it to.

"Hey… you're touching me!" Harry said excitedly, the situation nearly forgotten.

"Brilliant observation Harry," Tom said snidely, "Now tell me who did this."

"You've heard me complain about the new defense teacher, Umbridge. You know how I have detention with her?" Harry didn't have to elaborate.

"I'll kill her." The look on Tom's face made Harry think he meant it.

"Tom, I swear it's not that big of a deal. If it was, I would have told you. She's just making a power play, it's what she does. If I retaliate, she'll think she's won. I only have a few more detention sessions and then it's done." Harry said firmly. He didn't enjoy the detentions, obviously, but he could handle it. He'd told Ron and Hermione as much when they'd had a similar, if not quite as violent reaction.

Toms grip loosened. He rested Harry's hand on his thigh, his long fingers trailing over the fresh injury. Toms ministrations irritated the wound slightly, but Harry hardly noticed the sting. He was fascinated with those long fingers, watching as his thumb rolled back and forth over the 'I' etched into his skin. After a few moments of them both silently watching together, Tom flipped Harry's hand over and laced their fingers together. Harry went crimson.

"I-uh." Harry started.

"I've always appreciated your eloquence, Harry Potter," Tom said with a smirk. "Are you uncomfortable?" Harry shook his head so quickly he made himself dizzy. He was suddenly hyper-aware of his state of dress. Tom looked picture perfect sitting next to him, while Harry was in the same Pajamas he'd slept in for the past three nights, his socks mismatched. He put one foot on top of the other not so subtly.

Tom laughed. "I don't care how you look, Harry. I'm just happy to finally be here with you, to be able to touch you." His gaze turned intense.

"I am, too," Harry said quietly, his eyes fixed on his mismatched feet. "I've wanted this for years. To be able to be here with my best friend." Toms brows flew up.

"I'm your best friend?" The older boy looked stunned. "Not the red one? Or the muggle-born one?"

"I mean yeah, they're my friends too, but I have to hide so much from them, otherwise they walk on eggshells around me. I know it's not fair, they do their best, but it's just different with you. I've always told you everything." Tom looked pointedly at the back of Harry's hand. "Okay, mostly everything." Harry corrected.

Tom smiled, his thumb making lazy circles on the inside of Harry's palm. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, Harry. You're the best friend I've had in a very long time. Probably ever."

"You didn't have friends back when you were at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, dragging his eyes away from their still clasped hands to meet the other boys.

"No, I mostly had minions. People who respected me, did things for me when told. I was never alone but I was also never close to anyone like I'm close to you. Funny how life works. I've only found someone worth spending time with now that I'm barely even a person." The brunette looked almost sad.

"Don't say that. You're here. You're real to me. I'm just sorry you only have me to talk to. It must get very boring," Harry said, only half joking. He'd often wondered how bored the other boy must be, having only had him to talk to for three whole years.

"Hardly. I don't think you'll ever truly understand how much you've taught me, Harry. If I could go back in time, I'd do things so differently. However, I never would have gotten to know you." Tom shifted his body closer to Harry's, putting his arm around his smaller frame and gently pulling Harry's head towards his shoulder. Harry let it rest there, feeling warm in Tom's half embrace. All at once the sudden comfort reminded his body of its exhaustion and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Are you tired, Harry?" He heard Tom ask.

"No, not at all." Harry lied.

"Sleep." Harry felt Tom's fingers brush through his hair, the other boy's nails gently scraping against his scalp. Despite his best efforts, he felt himself begin to drift. Harry had imagined being able to touch Tom for so long, but he never once dreamed that it would feel like this. The sense of safety and comfort was immediate. He'd always imaged Tom offering a shoulder to cry on when times got rough, but a shoulder to sleep on was much better.

"I hate not being able to really be here for you. To protect you from Umbridge. From Malfoy. From myself." Tom said quietly.

"Hm?" Harry mumbled, his mind hardly present anymore.

"Nothing. Sleep, Harry." Just as Harry settled firmly into sleep, he felt warm lips press against his forehead.

"Harry." Harry stirred at the soft voice in his ear. In his groggy state, he realized he was now laying horizontally upon the couch, Tom crouched down in front of him. The once solid boy was now hazy in the light of the fire. Even through his slitted, tired eyes, he could tell that Tom was fading.

"It's time to go back to your dorm now. You'll be missed if your roommates wake up and you're not there." Tom reached out to let a ghostly hand settle upon his cheek. Harry felt nothing.

"Okay, you're right," He said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Harry mentally asked the room for a clock and a one popped into existence on the side table next to the couch, as if it had always been there. The clock showed that it was three in the morning.

"I'll have to leave you here, it's the safest place," Harry said sadly. He gazed around the dimly lit cabin room and his eyes fell upon a small cupboard next to the fireplace. He made a request to the room as he walked over, and upon opening the cupboard doors he found the safe he had asked for. He entered his mothers birthday into the combination lock and heard the click as it unlocked.

"I imagine that'll do fine," Tom stated, his physical form getting more and faint.

"I'll come to get you as soon as I can," Harry said firmly, slipping his cloak around his shoulders so that he was just a floating head.

"I trust that you will," Tom said, then all at once the space that previously held the transparent boy was empty. Harry sighed and closed the journal, taking it to rest inside the safe. Tom must have really pushed himself to his limits. Harry cast a silencing charm upon himself and headed out into the corridor. He realized with surprise that he could still vaguely hear his footsteps on the floor. This must have been what Tom meant about his magic being weaker for a while.

He wandered slowly and carefully through the halls since his steps weren't entirely silent. He whispered the password to a sleepy and confused fat lady, sliding his way into the room before she could think twice about the bodiless person who had entered. He made his way up the stairs and walked into the room to removed his cloak, quietly pushing it in a bundle beneath his bed. He was just about to congratulate himself for making it back unnoticed when he sat upon his bed and winced as it creaked loudly. He swore.

"Harry, what the hell," Ron said from the bed next to him, annoyed.

"Go to sleep mate," Seamus said from above him.

"At least cast silencio next time you have to get up to pee. It's a common courtesy mate." Neville mumbled.

"Sorry guys." Harry whisper-screamed. At least Neville had created his alibi for him. He threw the covers over himself and settled in. He was still exhausted, but it took him a while to fall back asleep. He couldn't help but wish he was still lying next to Tom, safe and peaceful in the older boys strong embrace.