Lord Voldemort's Request

He looked exactly like I remembered him.

In my mind's eye, flashes of our past encounters began to overlap and blur together as I unconsciously took a step closer to him.

His form was faint like a faded photograph, just like the Diary's Horcrux in my second year... while his smile reminded me of how he looked at me when I stepped out from under the invisibility cloak in the Forbidden Forest.

That was my smile. The smile he would only show to me.

I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eye, he was so tall. His long limbs were encased in the same silk robe I saw him wearing at the Battle of Hogwarts.

For a moment, it felt like no time had passed since that fateful day- like everything that happened after our confrontation in the Great Hall was only a dream. But an eternity had passed, and I was no longer the same man I was when I last faced my Master like this.

His eyes were a faded grey in this form, but even without color he was still…

"Is something wrong Harry?"

He was still so beautiful.

His laugh echoed eerily around us, even as his form disappeared in a whirlwind of darkness that flew at me, before settling to reform behind me. I turned to keep him in my line of sight, and felt my mouth go dry at the sight of the man behind me who I had never met before- but-

I knew those eyes.

"Maybe you'd prefer me in this form?" His smile was charming enough to startle me. He looked so much like an ordinary man, that I almost couldn't connect his image to the man I had come to love-

But his eyes were still the same. The same slit pupils that gave his charmingly handsome face the look of a demon.

It felt almost indulgent, to see a form that my Master had taken that I'd never seen before.

For a moment, I couldn't help but feel shy looking at the man in front of me. If Voldemort had never split his soul, if we had met as two ordinary people, maybe the scene would have looked something similar to this…

It was a momentary flight of fancy that was incredibly amusing. Because never in either of our lifetimes, could we have been described as "ordinary".

"Or maybe this one?"

This time he was a teenager.

He was dressed in his head boy robes with his wavy hair styled perfectly into place. His eyes had not yet been tainted by dark magic, but they still glowed with malicious intent.

Tom circled around me like a predator circling its prey, and his dark amusement brightened up his whole face. It was as if for him, I was the most interesting piece of entertainment he'd seen in years.

"Really Harry, you are still so hard to please-"

"You're perfect."

The predator paused. He stopped his circling, tilted his head towards his prey, and furrowed his brow like he was trying to understand what I just said.

As if what I said was something incomprehensible, illogical.

I couldn't feel the tears that were leaking from the corners of my eyes.

"You've always been perfect."

Tom Riddle watched me with those unnerving eyes that shouldn't look like that not Voldemort not mine- where is he? and then he closed them and smiled a perfect smile.

"What a liar you turned out to be."

He laughs again, but this time it doesn't sound amused. It sounds cynical, or maybe the word is hollow.

It sounds fake.

He opens those liar LIAR whose the rEaL LiAr? eyes, and when I look into them, I can feel a ghost of my old self in the pit of my soul.

I can remember how I felt when we were enemies.

But now you're dead, and I wish I was too. I'm too tired to fight you anymore Tom.

"Answer me this Harry, because I will admit that I am curious- why do you keep lying to yourself?"

Do you know that I never wanted to kill you?

"I- I'm not lying…"

Even when we were enemies, I was too weak to wish you dead.

For the first time in years, I felt completely clear headed. Lucid. It was disorienting, and I honestly wasn't a big fan of it. I had become muddled these past few years, to the point where memory and hallucination had begun to blur together, and now I found that I missed the blissful ignorance of it.

It might've been a miracle that I'd been able to function these past few years, but at the very least I had been able to shed the shackles of being Harry Potter.

I had been able to play, for a little while at least, at being Lord Voldemort's loyal Horcrux.

But when I found myself actually looking at him, and hearing his voice that wasn't just my own wistful thinking- I found that I couldn't pretend to be that anymore.

"There he is!" Voldemort shifted again, but this time the dark whirlwind formed a writhing circle around me, before Nagini's form slithered out with the intent to strangle me.

"Welcome back, Savior of the Wizarding World. The Man Who Conquered. The Boy Who Lived." The spite in those hissed words made goosebumps erupt across my arms, and I barely resisted the urge to claw into my skin.

I hugged myself as I savored the faint feeling of him coiling around me, "Did you miss me?"

Yes. I choked back the sobs in my throat as my smile threatened to split my face in two.

"Of course I missed you baby."

...

...?

...!

"Baby?! " Never in Harry Potter's entire life, had he been treated to the sound of the Dark Lord being scandalized.

But I wasn't just Harry Potter anymore. Which meant that I was going to see and experience every part of Voldemort that he was willing to offer.

It took all of my courage to call him 'baby', and I don't think he will ever know just how difficult it was for me to utter that beautiful word while he was within earshot. But I found that after saying it once, after releasing that hidden burning longing to say word-

I found it a little addicting.

And the sight of Voldemort's flustered, embarrassed, and maybe slightly mortified expression filled a broken part of me with happiness that I had forgotten I could feel.

I couldn't help but want to tease him, "Well, I wasn't sure what else I could call you baby. I know that calling you Tom pisses you off, and Voldemort is a bit stuffy, and well… sweetheart seemed a bit too soon, so-"

"You utterly ridiculous, hedonistic, little shit!"

Voldemort might've been in the form of an expressionless snake, but the way his body recoiled, and quickly tried to unwind away from me showed just how affected he was by my words.

I smiled, and gently ran a hand down his shuddering scales, "I love you too, baby."

Before I could finish my sentence, his form flicked into darkness, and sped away from me before once again forming the body I was most familiar with.

This form was regal, effortlessly aloof and intimidating (to some). But to me it was him. It was natural, beautiful, and perfect.

It was obvious that this form gave him confidence when facing me, and that it made it easier for him to hide his unease. As he subtly tried to keep distance between us, I couldn't help but find him strangely cute, "Quit with that insufferable cursing Potter!"

I couldn't help but smile fondly at him, clear memories or no, "I'm not Potter anymore. Just Harry. Just your Harry."

"'Just Harry' your head! Excuse me, when did I start talking to a three year old?!"

He wasn't truly angry. I had seen him angry before. Instead, he was lashing out at me, and observing how I would react to him.

I could only hope that he would see how genuine I was being, teasing aside.

"I think I'm almost 20 now actually." I tilted my head back as I took a moment to try and calculate my age, but tossed it aside as irrelevant as I took a small step closer to him. He took a step away from me.

I didn't have the courage to ask him the real question on my mind, and so I settled for something that didn't have any deeper connotations, "Do I look 20?"

Do I look good, baby?

He scoffed, and gave me a look so full of derision and disdain that it caused my heart to hurt, "You look the same, how should I know what age you look like?!"

I shrugged, and didn't bother hiding my disappointment at his dismissive words.

Voldemort looked irritated as he reached up to rub a hand at the back of his neck, like he was trying to alleviate a headache that I'd caused. His composure from the beginning of our meeting was worn thin, but while I appreciated him showing his true emotions to me, that didn't stop me from feeling pain at the confirmation of his opinion of me.

It was obvious that he no longer wished to play around with me or drag out our meeting.

He straightened up, and no longer beat around the subject that we had strayed from, or had in fact, avoided to begin with.

"Look Harry." Voldemort sighed, "I'm not here to argue. Or prove a point. The only reason that I'm here is because I can't disobey the rules of the Stone. I am the only person you wanted to see, and so here I am oh Master of Death."

He looked tempted to ask if I enjoyed getting the title he had sought so desperately when he was alive. I pretended not to notice.

"So, what do you wish of me, 'Just Harry' ? To mock me? To pretend that you love me?" He was laughing again and I hated it. I hated the sound of his bitterness, his anger at seeing me again.

My insides felt hollow. My throat felt tight.

"Then go ahead. Get it over with." His eyes dared me as he stood tall and proud. Like something that could never be broken. Never be tamed.

I couldn't bring myself to smile anymore.

"We both know that you don't love me. We both know that whatever 'redemption' you are seeking can't magically fix my opinion of you."

His lips tilted up into a sadistic smile, that only grew at the sight of my flinch, "I still hate you."

His body dissolved into darkness, and reformed into the man with demonic eyes on my left side, "I hope that gives you a little satisfaction at least." His smile was seemingly tender on that unfamiliar face, but his eyes were full of rage, "I hate you more than I've hated anything in my entire existence."

He tilted his body in a mockery of a bow, before dissolving and appearing as that haunting teenager right in front of me. I unconsciously took a step back from the hostility on his young face, "I'm sick of catering to your sick fantasies, is that what you need to hear?"

I reached out to touch him, but he avoided my touch with a look of disgust on his face.

Of all the times I pictured this moment, dreamed of our reunion-

It had never been like this.

"Can you let me go now? Let me get back to my solitude, away from you?"

He didn't beg. I doubted he would ever beg anyone, let alone me- but he didn't need to. I could see the tired tilt of his shoulders, the tenseness of his back. I could see the careful way he examined me, as if we were still on opposite sides of a war.

I swallowed back the tears in my throat. I had to remind myself that I deserved this. I didn't deserve the fantasy in my head, no matter how much I longed for it.

I had to earn his forgiveness. I had to work hard to make my fantasy a reality, and I was okay with that.

More than okay.

So I stored away my useless hurt feelings, and steeled my heart for the conversation ahead.

It was time to get down to business, and start making things up to him.

"I need to ask you a couple of questions."

Tom watched the emotions play out on my face with indifference in his eyes, "Fine."

I knew that he couldn't lie to me.

Because even if I didn't know all of the powers that came with the title of 'Master of Death', I could instinctively sense this fact. But even without that guarantee, I never would have doubted his honesty. Voldemort might be vague or choose not to answer, but he had never outright lied to me- even when we truly were on opposite sides of a war.

He was the only one who I was able to count on to be honest, even if it was a cruel honesty meant to hurt me.

I didn't want to have to enforce my will on Him. Never Him.

But this was important.

"What happened to you, Voldemort?"

I paused before speaking his chosen moniker, out of respect. My tongue longed to continue to shower him with honeyed words and affection, but I knew it wouldn't be appreciated or welcomed.

I would try to respect his wishes as best I could. If distance was what he wanted, then I would try my best to give him space while I waited for him to be comfortable with me.

"You will have to be more specific, Harry." Tom's voice was bitter as he turned to the side and began to pace and shift spastically between Voldemort's form and the one where his transformation was half complete.

"... What happened after you died?" Because cheating Death has consequences.

What did Death do to you, Baby?

Voldemort grimaced using his half familiar face, his eyes narrowed in mocking contempt.

For a moment, I was sure that he was going to ask me to be even more specific. That he was going to make me word everything with a precision that would force him to answer.

That he would give me nothing unless I forced him.

I am sure that this thought ran through his mind. That for a moment, he seriously contemplated pushing me until I had no choice but to push back. To bend him to my will, and prove to him at least, that nothing between us had changed. He would smirk as I did so, while I would hate myself even more.

Thankfully though, he did not act on these thoughts.

"I am sure you will be pleased to know that purgatory is real, and that even now I am paying for my life's choices."

What-

"7 lifetimes for 7 intentional Horcruxes, and I have the luxurious privilege of spending those lifetimes trapped in Limbo- forced to watch the world continue on without me. Watch it forget me."

Why are you telling me this so easily?

"I can do nothing to influence it. I cannot reincarnate, or join the world as a ghost. I am to watch my presence slowly fade away, until the only one who knows of my existence is myself."

Why are you admitting this?

"Did you know that if I had not made my Horcruxes, I would have lived to be 231 years old? What a random number, surely it was designed to irritate me. Or maybe that too is a lie."

Even if we were normal, I can't imagine a world where our fates weren't entwined together.

"I suppose I was lucky that I wasn't condemned for the Horcrux in your head as well. You were just an unintentional mistake after all, a mistake shouldn't cost me another 231 years."

Are you trying to hurt me?

The way you look at me makes me think you are, "Are you satisfied 'Just Harry'? Now that you've confirmed that even in the afterlife I cannot be free of you?"

You don't mean that.

The smile on Tom's face was anything but kind, "I wonder why you look so angry Harry. Did I say something that you didn't want to hear?"

I know that Voldemort wants to hurt me. But what he will never know, is that what hurt me the most, was knowing that his earlier closeness was merely him mocking me.

Knowing that nothing had changed for him, while everything had changed for me.

I can't believe I was stupid enough to believe in forgiveness.

You are so beautiful, that I don't think I could ever look away. It's distracting in a wonderfully damaging way. Your knowing and sadistic smile is charming me, even as your words continue to shred my heart to pieces.

"Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to know that my enemy, someone with a Death Wish, who has never once thought to prolong his life- is the one who received the honor of Immortality where I did not?"

Baby-

"I will admit that you have proved to be worthwhile entertainment these past few years. But that is all you are, and all you will ever be to me."

Don't say it-

"Entertainment."

I can be whatever you need me to be, but please don't look at me like that. Don't look at me like I mean nothing to you. Like our lives are not entwined to the point where we don't know where one ends and the other begins.

Lying to yourself is not healthy, sweetheart.

Voldemort's brows furrowed, and a frown pulled at his lips, "Say something Potter. This is getting ridiculous- say something!"

…

…

…

"I love you."

I love you so much, that I can never let you go.

You've always liked to hurt me.

And that's okay.

I don't mind if you hate me. I don't mind if you rip me to shreds before putting me back together so you can do it again. Just focus on me. Think only of me.

I know that you won't let me touch you- I know that my affection is too new and strange for you- but I can't stop myself from wanting to touch you.

I can't help but want to sooth and comfort and feel.

When my hand reached out to cup his face, Voldemort flinched away from me. My heart broke at the sight, "I hurt you. I'm so sorry that I hurt you… I've regretted my actions every second that you've been gone, and I know that it means little now, but you still deserve to hear it. I'm so sorry bab- Voldemort."

You should feel safe with me... you should feel free to be yourself, and never be fearful of me. I can see your fear baby, no matter how much you try and hide it.

Because you are the center of my world.

"What is the point of saying sorry now? To make yourself feel better? It changes nothing."

Tom is angry. He is tired and frustrated, and I can see that he doesn't know how to handle me right now.

This is a new dance for him and he's fumbling- which is perfectly understandable. I don't mind us taking our time to relearn each other, I don't mind going slow for him.

But-

You belong to me, just as much as I belong to you.

I take in a deep breath, and grasp desperately at all of the patience and serenity I have left in the crumbling lucidity of my mind. It takes everything I have not to grab him, not to push until he can't refuse me-

These urges make me feel monstrous. His very presence is a temptation, and the only thing that's stopping me from becoming a monster is the barest hint of light at the bottom of my soul.

That small part of me that loves him more than I care about myself. That disgusting part of me that was nurtured so that I would put saving everyone else above my own selfish needs.

Even if I hate that part of my self, I can be grudgingly grateful for it in moments like this.

Because I don't want to force him. I don't want to hurt him.

But I want him to love me back.

I want his obsession, his touch, and his anger all to myself.

You make me want to revel in being a monster.

I take in a deep breath, before pushing the darkness deep inside my heart and locking it away. Then I close my eyes, and I concentrate on the only thing that matters.

Him.

"... I've done a lot of things I can't undo. But I'm going to make it up to you- for you in Limbo and for you in the past."

"Oh? And how do you plan to do that Potter?"

I smile at him, and for the first time in years, my smile is not delusional or insane.

Instead it's full of confidence because I feel confident. And it's happy, because for the first time in years I'm actually talking to Him, and not to an illusion in my mind.

"I am going to save you, Voldemort."

Tom stares at my expression with confusion in his eyes, even as he lets out an amused laugh.

"So this time you're going to save the Dark Lord?"

The thought seemed to amuse more than offend him, even though I knew that he knew of my plans. He told me that my struggles were entertaining to him.

It was obvious that he didn't think that I would succeed...

But I was going to prove him wrong.

I was going to shock him. I was going to surprise him, I was going to amaze him- and he was going to love every minute of it.

I nodded my head in agreement as his form shattered and began to slither around me as he curiously flicked Nagini's tongue.

I know you Voldemort.

You might claim that you want nothing to do with me, but I know better.

I know that if I ever dared to take my eyes off of you, you wouldn't hesitate to gouge them out.

"And why would you do that, I wonder?"

I could see my obsession mirrored in his eyes, even if he wanted to deny that it was still there. I was going to force it back to the surface.

I was going to make him remember what being a monster feels like.

"Because I love you."

"Simple as that, hmm...? You sound like a broken record."

Nagini's form bulged, and then I found myself looking at a man whose age almost mirrored my own.

It was a new form, and my mouth went dry as I stared up at Tom Marvolo Riddle.

At the Dark Lord.

At my Master.

At Voldemort.

"So prove it to me, Harry Potter."

He began to back away from me, his feet fading from view like stardust being scattered in the wind, "Prove that you love me, and maybe I'll consider 'forgiving' you."

I was crying silent tears again. I wanted to keep him here, I never wanted to let him leave my sight again-

But I had a promise to fulfill, and a request that I was more than willing to complete. I smiled at him, and tried to ignore the ache in my core at the sight of his calves fading after his feet.

"I will. Even if it takes me until the end of time baby- I'll prove it to you."

His hips soon followed his legs, and after that his hands began to disintegrate. My lips hurt as I forced them to continue to smile, to not show the distress I felt as I fought to control the Beast inside my chest that raged at the thought of him leaving me again.

Voldemort watched me struggle to contain myself, and he laughed with genuine amusement, and dare I hope- fondness in his eyes?

"I'm looking forward to watching you try."

My eyes dilated, and it took everything I had not to hyperventilate as I watched my last glimpse of Voldemort's face fade away into scattered particles of light.

Everything went quiet...

The silence boomed like a death toll in my head, and the room suddenly seemed infinitely smaller and larger without him in it.

My sanity cracked, and I mechanically brought my hand over the carved ruin in front of me. Blood dripped from the wounds my nails had made on my palms, which I healed after the rune was activated.

"The Resurrection Stone. I forfeit the power over the portal between life and death."

I dropped the Resurrection Stone into the light, and then turned to walk to the next ruin's location before I could do something I would regret.

I would like to dedicate this chapter to fluorescencx, the wonderful author of "Two Words in Green Ink".

Her writing, and her story itself, reminded me of the feeling I first felt when I started writing this fanfic. I have never read another fanfic that resonated with me like this- and for that, I am thankful.