 Averting his eyes, the younger man only looked up, when Tom forced his chin. "Don't be ashamed, *my Horcrux*." The notation in parseltongue was becoming an endearment. "The fault is theirs, not yours. I was mistreated in my youth as well. Narrow-minded muggles tried to exorcise me when I showed signs of accidental magic. And let me tell you, no matter how little arcane strength the average priest possesses, being flayed is always a painful experience." Never before had he been so open with anybody. Yet a part of him, maybe the part Harry had given freely during the ritual, convinced him that he could share everything with this young man. He did not even hesitate to wrap his arms around the teenager, when the young man buried into his chest, hot tears seeping through the fabric. Tom cast a silencing charm but need not have bothered. Harry was as quiet in his suffering as he had been in his youth.