A/N: Since there was an interest for it, this is the memory Harry saw. You may be interested in rereading part 3, since it takes place after where Tom's memory from the date ended.

31st of October, 2981

"Let's go home."

The words echoed in his head. With three simple words, a year and three months of running were thrown away. Tom's soft kisses and careful caresses pained him, the love and thankfulness in those gestures made him want to leave again. Harry closed his eyes in silent acceptance. He had done this to himself. He could have kept on running until the end of time, but he had already grown tired of it. Misery loves company after all, and he didn't have it in him to suffer more on his own. It was not fair towards Tom, and he still loved his mate dearly after a thousand and one years of life.

"What's on your mind, my love?" Tom asked, haltering in his lovefll gestures. Harry shook his head lightly, the movement barely noticeable.

"Just glad to be home, my dear." Harry answered, the lie falling easily from his lips. He could see that Tom didn't believe him, and he did not blame Tom for it. His voice was lacking feeling, and he was like a lifeless doll in Tom's hands. He wanted to scream, but he had screamed, he had done everything to end his misery, and the only one that could end it was Tom, who never would out of love and selfishness and fear, so Harry didn't scream. If Tom's love was dangerous, then he had to make his own love dangerous as well.

Harry took a deep breath to steel himself and stared into Tom's dark eyes.
"Unward the pensieve room for me."

He could see how thoughts and questions flickered through Tom's head, but Tom simply nodded and led the way to the room. Harry didn't know where the urge had come from, but he needed to see something that could remind him what he was doing this for, and something that could set his love on fire until it would burn Tom to a crisp. He knew how to be selfish, even if he had nothing to fear left.

Tom unwarded the room in the matter of minutes, and then turned to leave. He paused, and looked over Harry as if he searched for something. Harry looked back, expressionless.

"I'll make you some tea." Tom finally said and left. Harry watched him go, before turning to face the door.

A deep breath, and he pushed the door open. Shelves upon shelves filled with vials with memories met him. Harry closed the door behind him but left it unlocked. He gave Tom's shelves a fleeting glance before summoning his old Gryffindor courage. He started to go through his own shelves, and gave every label a searching glance in hope of finding the right one. He needed a memory of Tom, and he had many, but he needed a memory of Tom Riddle before Lord Voldemort existed. He needed a memory of the man he had fallen in love with, not the monster he had fought against.

When his eyes fell on the vial, it felt so simple that he could have laughed. There was something deeply ironic about the memory he needed not being his own to begin with. Harry picked up the vial and walked over to the pensieve. He uncorked the vial, and watched with faint interest how the silvery wisps of memory simmered down into the pensieve. When the vial was emptied, he put it on the pensieve's brim. A deep breath later, he bent his head down to watch the memory.

"She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?"

Seeing his 16-year old self was almost like looking into a mirror. His hair had grown out since then, and his eyes were lifeless, and perhaps he had gained more scars, but the rest was much the same. Well, if one ignored that he was barely much more than a skeleton. Eating had not been a priority when he spent a year trying to kill himself.

"Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"

"No," Yes. "but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother-"

"Your mother had a choice, too."

He wished he could fast forward until the memory he wanted to see, but this was important too.

"Yes, Merope Riddle-" Gaunt. She had been Merope Gaunt until the end, a marriage caused by a love potion held no value. "-chose death in spite of a son who needed her-" He couldn't blame her. Marvolo and Morfin would have killed her son, and soon her as well. Death seemed so easy after abuse, when you didn't think that you deserved better. "-but do not judge her too harshly, Harry-" He snorted. If anyone judged too harshly when it came to this family, it was Dumbledore. "-She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage-" Why did you compare our mothers, Dumbledore? "-And now if you will stand…"

The sensation of following his past self into a memory was unpleasant yet not. He didn't wish to do it again. Harry ignored his past self and Dumbledore, to follow the younger Dumbledore closely. It would be easier to just ignore the other two.

He zoned out as Dumbledore talked to Mrs. Cole, as the conversation held even more weight this time than it had done the last. Harry became aware of his surroundings again as they entered the young Tom Riddle's room.

The small boy sitting upon grey blankets with his legs stretched out and a book in his hands made Harry's heart clench. It was so fascinating to see Tom as a child, now that he knew Tom as Tom and not as Lord Voldemort. The likenesses were remarkable, and Harry felt his lips strain into a smile. It soon disappeared as the young Tom Riddle started talking about the asylum. What a dreadful childhood… Harry stepped forward, and carefully embraced the memory child as well as he could. The conversation between Tom and Dumbledore was mere background noise. Harry was more interested in committing the child to memory.

Until the wardrobe burst into flames at least. Harry felt his whole being get filled with rage at his former Headmaster. Had someone come to the Dursleys and put his cupboard on fire, he would have felt much the same. That was not the attitude an adult should have when introducing a child to magic! He had never hated Dumbledore more than he did in this moment, as he watched the old man force Tom to take the stolen trophies out of the wardrobe. Could Dumbledore not see that Tom needed help and guidance, not punishment?!

Harry paused. He had felt depressed and lifeless for years, decades, perhaps even a couple of centuries, yet seeing how Dumbledore treated the young Tom enraged him and filled him with a need to protect and care for Tom. Perhaps that was what would make his love dangerous… his need to protect and care for. He had not gotten much chance to do it as Tom always strove to prove himself. Harry cared for everyone but himself, and Tom wanted to prove himself but didn't care. One would think that it wouldn't be a problem for them after centuries together, yet it was. Their constant fights for dominance and Tom's instincts as an alpha did not help matters either… Harry frowned. He had no child to care for, and they had no pets at the moment, and he didn't care for himself. Who was there to care for if not Tom?

As he looked towards the 11-year old Tom Riddle again, he made a decision. He would suffocate Tom with love if it was so, but he would care for Tom, and it would lead him to happiness. If he ever doubted himself, he only had to remember this child, Tom Riddle, the orphan that didn't know about his parents nor magic. It was enough to ignite a fire in Harry's heart.

The memory changed around him, and suddenly he found himself back in Dumbledore's office.

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was - to use his word - 'special."

Harry smiled to himself. That's because he is.

The memory ended and he was back in his own room. Harry put the memory back inside the vial and sent it back to the shelf with a flick of his wand. He had no more business in this room.

When he had put up the wards again, he found Tom leaned against the wall with a cup of tea in his hands. Harry took the cup with a nod of thanks. He said nothing about the memory he had seen, and Tom didn't ask.

They walked to their bedroom in silence. Harry went to the window seat, and Tom followed. They sat down together. Harry leaned back so that his body rested against Tom's, and Tom put his arms around Harry's waist in an embrace.

"Will you let me care for you?" Harry asked quietly, and blew on his tea to make it bearable to drink. Tom always made it just slightly too hot.

"Will you stay with me?" Tom countered.

"I can't imagine another heat without you." Harry answered dryly. "I might stay for that if nothing else."

Tom sighed.
"I can't take it if you leave again, Harry." he said quietly. It was almost that Harry didn't hear him.

"You were right to think of love as a weakness, my dear. Love hurts, and it takes, and it's everything if you let it be."

"Which is why you're my love, Harry."

"Will you let me care for you?"

Harry turned his head slightly so that he met Tom's eyes.

"Of course, my love."

Tom embraced him tighter. Harry looked back towards his tea.

"Then I will stay."

A/N: This ended up much shorter than the rest, but I didn't feel like it needed to be much.

As I honestly never can leave things alone, I'm considering writing what happened for Harry during the time he was away, but it would be about his 365 suicide attempts more than anything. Maybe it will happen, but I make no promises. I'm already writing a new one-shot where Harry works in a pet shop and Tom needs help because Nagini is sick, not to mention that I should get back to Harrietta Potter: The Boy-Who-Lived. ...I also have three other ideas that I want to write. You'll probably see a lot from me this year.

Thank you for reading x Any reviews are greatly appreciated.