July 1, 1945

The effects of Slughorn's Amortentia was only enough to last a little less than a day. The rose-tinted glasses that the victim filtered their perceived feelings through would break the moment the potion loses its potency.

Only at the time of the potion's dissipated effects would Tom's performance crescendo to its most-exciting climax.

"...Harry." That child, no, that young man bowed his head, kneeling with a straight back beside the bed - topless, as he'd only just threw on a pair of trousers.

The hickeys and scratches that littered his upper body were stark, looking ambiguous and red, standing out brashly in Harry's eyes.

...What had he done?

Harry was lying prone on the mattress, his skin and the mattress making unreserved contact. He lay naked, his waist and hips soft, relaxed, and the area below felt tingly, almost numb as if it had lost its nerves. The skin he hid against the bedding had long been broken, bits of green bruising with a hint of lovely lavender spreading from his shoulders and collarbone to his waist; his inner thighs were even more of a mess. The scattering of clothes over the floor, his sticky body… All of it reminded him of last night's sex.

He just slept with his enemy.

He had sex with his adopted son.

I'm gonna be sick, Harry thought as he struggled to rise from the bed. The throbbing pain emanating from his lower body combined with the numbness caused by his inability to move increased Harry's despair. He looked at the young man kneeling by the bed, his mind still in disbelief, and tried to speak. "...What… Happened?"

His voice was dry and hoarse; just opening his mouth made him feel like retching, and even his stomach was suffering cramps.

Tom continued kneeling with a straight back beside the bed; the always-tamed hair hung down messily, obscuring Harry's view of Tom's expression.

"S-sorry… Harry." The forbearing, ashamed, embarrassed and trembling voice suddenly made Harry shudder.

"...I… Don't know either… When I woke up…"

The tall and handsome boy explained, the muscles of his upper body shifting from nerves as he flustered, his jawline clenched, panicked, helpless, and ashamed, yet he still seemed strong, calm.

Harry stared at Tom fixedly, the shame and anger flushing the corners of his eyes red. Homosexual intercourse, sodomy… Father and son relations, incest… and the fact that it was nonconsensual made it rape…

Harry could think words uglier than those.

Harry never thought he'd ever encounter this kind of situation. During his twenty years of growth and seventeen years of suspended aging, his worldview had always been extremely simple, free of complications. Friends, lovers and relatives, men and women, all identities staying where they should; no crossed boundaries, and nobody stood in solitude.

Until last night.

Harry endured the blood rolling in his chest and held his hand out for his wand. It just needed one, one Memory Charm, for everything to turn back to normal!

His voice was hoarse and unpleasant as he crazily tried to find his wand, his eyes appallingly bright.

You could call him cowardly, and you can say that he was evading reality, but the matter of fact was, Tom Riddle was his child!

What is the concept of a child? The continuance of life; the inheritance of blood. What he devoted himself to should have been familial affection and expectations, not disgusting sexual desire!

Tom just knelt down by the bed, pinning his eyes on his person, looking at all the scars apparent on his body, and smiled slightly. A Memory Charm? How would he forget?

But before Harry could find his wand, the Latin incantation for a familiar charm had already sounded.

"Alohomora." The door lock clicked open and the door, which quivered slightly, was pushed open within Harry's desperate gaze.

"So you're all awake. Last night…" The voice, which carried a sweet melodic tone, suddenly stopped.

Harry turned his face towards the newcomer's voice; watching intently as the blood on Malfoy's face faded away. Harry's expression melted into a scowl, terrifying in its fury. "Piss off!"

Time could flow backwards, but whatever happens, can never be obliterated.

Tom looked at his subordinate's expression and narrowed his eyes in grim satisfaction.

After Harry drove away Malfoy, he sat on the bed for a while before gradually working himself up to get over it.

What should he do? His first thought was to flee and return to 2001… Sure enough, he was still too weak. Harry gritted his teeth, reaching out to touch the hourglass hanging over his chest, but fingers only grasped at his bare skin.

He was taken aback but quickly realised his hourglass was beside the pillow. He quickly took it and hung it around his neck.

"Put on your clothes first, Harry." Tom lowered his head, seemingly wanting to avoid a more awkward situation.

With the bedding obstructing his view, Harry naturally couldn't see what the young man was holding.

Tom narrowed his eyes and fiddled with the hourglass clutched in one hand.

So this is … the Time-traveling device.

After the two got clothed and walked down the second floor, they saw Malfoy standing by, waiting.

Harry tried his best to calm his racing heartbeat and spoke as soon as they met. "Sorry, Malfoy, I believe obliviating your memories is the best solution."

"I'm very sorry too, Mr Potter, but no Slytherin would let their memory appear blank. Moreover, you have no right to erase a Malfoys' memories!" Malfoy refused without hesitation.

"Then what exactly is going on here?!" Harry grabbed Malfoy's placket vindictively; his green eyes were astonishingly bright, seemingly burning, and were so beautiful thatTom Riddle, who followed behind silently, was incapable of looking away. The small sliver of the skin by his neck exposed his collarbones bore a beautiful hickey, further making him unable to extricate his gaze.

Malfoy was pulled by his placket and forced to lean forwards; although he was embarrassed, he did his best to put on a pretense of calmness. "I really am sorry for showing up unannounced into your room this morning, I just came by to wake you up…"

"Don't play bloody stupid!" Harry said, enraged. He couldn't help but explode; he viciously got closer to Malfoy, wanting nothing more than to tear him to pieces, "The two of you must've done something! Otherwise, how could I-"

Harry abruptly stopped, unable to speak any further. Under his rumpled dignified clothing hid sore and fatigued muscles, red love bits littered across his skin; from top to bottom, inside-out, everything reminded him of last night's debauched, salacious, and sinful acts.

Acts of crazed sex! With his enemy and adopted son - Tom Riddle.

Malfoy withdrew his bowtie from Harry, the gaze directed at him seemed slightly embarrassed. "It's just… A love potion."

"Why would there be a love potion laced in the wine?!" Harry's throat was hoarse; it was painful just to swallow his saliva.

Malfoy pursed his lips. "It was a graduation gift… If things had gone according to plan, the one who would've drank it was… A girl."

Harry suddenly acted; with a tightly clenched fist, he drew his arm back and launched it into Malfoy's smarmy face. The Gryffindor's sight blurred red due to those words, teeth gritted, the muscles of his jaw faintly prominent. "That's still another family's daughter!"

"Hiss…" Malfoy took a deep breath, the sharp pain on his cheek forcing him to stagger back. If you took a photo over a reflective glass, you'd see the gradual swelling of his cheekbones and a distinctive imprint. At that moment, the pride belonging to pure-blood families was provoked, hence, he raised his voice, grey eyes staring at Harry, appearing sinister and proud. "It was a love potion, not an aphrodisiac!"

"Love potions don't have aphrodisiac effects, Mr Potter, love potions can only create the illusion of love, not direct lust. Yesterday, even if it went according to plan and a girl drank it down, it would only have ended in a wonderful date! Then let me ask you, why did something beyond the scope of the love potion happen? Tom was already drunk yesterday, so it's impossible for him to have taken initiative. In that case, could I reasonably guess that it was in fact Mr Potter who subconsciously initiated sex under the influence?

"In other words, Mr Potter, in your subconsciousness, do you… Hold abnormal feelings towards Tom?"

Malfoy chuckled cruelly as he spoke, his voice lowered. His words hissed through his teeth as if he were a lethal snake, injecting doubt like venom into Harry's conscience; the bruise by the corner of his eye also looked particularly malicious.

"How is that possible? I'm his father!" Harry clenched his teeth in anger, eyes burning, and veins protruding from his slender neck.

Malfoy didn't answer, merely chuckled and shrugged.

Tom gazed at Harry's fists, eyes deep as midnight gleaming with eerie confidence.

Maybe Harry always regarded him as a relative and son, maybe Harry's affection for him was limited to familial affections, maybe Harry was convinced of this, but from now on, he'd grow to gradually doubt, retreat, and self reflect - do I have abnormal feelings for Tom?

Harry, can't you tell? I've already won.

Harry, naturally, couldn't hear it.

"Let's eat." Harry put the knives and forks beside the plates; he rubbed his temples and sat down at the table wearily. There was still a stinging pain shooting up his back that originated from that unmentionable place. His legs shook and were still sore, and even his throat felt scorched as if it was torn.

"...I'm sorry, Harry." Tom took a look at Harry before lowering his eyes, his pupils so dilated, the red in them was nothing but a slim ring, almost indiscernible.

"Don't worry about it…" Harry smiled bitterly; maybe he should be the one to apologize.

Tom suddenly glanced up, his dark eyes like spears nailing into Harry's soul. "But I can't help but worry. You're my father." Harry froze, horror written on his face.

Tom glanced away, the perfect picture of hurt. "… I'm sorry, I think I'm full."

"Are you sure your Harry would take the initiative to stay after you do this?" Abraxas looked at his Lord with suspicion.

His Lord smiled faintly, the eyes turning crimson-red with the setting sun narrowing gleefully. "He will. I… Understand him too well. He'll stay, until… All our preparations have been arranged."

"Tom, can I go back to the cave?" Nagini, who'd become as thick as his thigh, wound herself around Tom's feet up to his shoulders; she spat at Abraxas, shocking the other party.

Tom stroked the snake's cool head. "Wait a bit longer."

The dark tone along with the Parseltongue chilled Abraxas even though he was familiar with his lord's ways as a Slytherin.

Nagini coiled her body unhappily. Snakes have always liked cold and humid locations; London during June and July had already aroused the natural repulsion of the magical snake.

"Don't worry; by then, you'll be going back with Harry." Tom stroked the python's head, and although his eyes were gentle and comforting, Abraxas couldn't help but shudder. "Haven't you always wanted to… play with Harry?"