Cantil: This random idea came to me one day. What if Pitch and Voldemort were paired up together romantically? Well, this is the result of that. I hope you enjoy, and please tell me what you think of it.

Summary: What would happen if Lord Voldemort and Pitch Black met? Perhaps love? Will the Guardians ruin everything for Pitch once again?

Pairing: Voldemort/Pitch Black

Warnings: Male/Male relationship, maybe language, OOC characters, spelling/grammar.

The Moonlight's Ruin

Chapter 1

England, September 1997

A tall, lithe, man with golden-yellow eyes, dull gray skin, a long dark robe, and glossy black hair slicked back, making it stick out like spikes from the back of his head, walked aimlessly through a heavily wooded area, with a permanent frown marring his face. The trees surrounding him made it hard to remember where he had and hadn't already been, not to mention it was foggy out.

This man had many names that people called him however, he went by the name Pitch Black.

He was lost, yet he couldn't really bring himself to care at present. He was in what was known as the Forbidden Forest, if the old rickety sign he had seen before was anything to go by. Pitch had come to England after his defeat by the Guardians. It was the only place his nightmares would not go for some strange reason, but that suited Pitch just fine.

Pitch hadn't lost all his powers, after all there would always be fear, even if it wasn't much. He could still control some of his nightmares, and his black sand that he wielded still worked, but it wasn't as strong as it once was, making Pitch feel weak and helpless.

Pitch plopped down heavily onto a moss-covered boulder in a small clearing, thinking about all he could be doing now, had he won. He would be ruling over the world with fear. He would be believed in. Pitch sighed wistfully. If only. He thought sullenly.

A twig snapped, making Pitch climb to his feet, warily looking for the source of the noise. He heard the distant sound of a voice and running water nearby, which he hadn't noticed until now. He listened carefully as he quickly ducked behind a thick tree.

He peered around the trunk, his golden eyes glowing slightly, as he watched a person dressed in black robes step into the small clearing. The robes covered everything on the man from head to toe. Pitch's eyes widened. The man had an aura of power and darkness surrounding him, making Pitch's breath hitch.

"I know you're there, so you might as well come out." The man stated, looking directly at Pitch's place.

Pitch gasped in surprise. How could he have possibly known? Pitch asked himself in shock. The mans voice held so much power that Pitch had a hard time looking at him. This man, whoever he was, demanded respect, and Pitch didn't have much of a choice considering he was too weak to fight him. Not that he would.

Pitch carefully came out from his hiding place, looking at the ground in respect.

"Who are you and what are you doing here? Are you here to spy on me? Perhaps, one of Dumbledore's minions?" The man asked dangerously, a stick pointed at Pitch's chest, his robe no longer covering his face. Pitch raised his hands in surrender, finally looking up.

The man glaring at Pitch was beautiful. He was tall, extremely thin, his face was almost opaque, with deep scarlet eyes shaped like slits, small incisions for nostrils, and unnaturally long spindly fingers. Sure some might find this look repulsive, but Pitch wasn't like normal people. He found beauty in dark things.

"My name is Pitch Black. I came here to get away from...things, but it seems I got lost." Pitch scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. Seeing the mans glare Pitch continued. "I didn't come here to spy nor have I ever heard the name Dumbledore in my lifetime." Pitch explained. Offering his best smile, which came out awkward since he never smiled much anymore.

The man nodded carefully, slowly lowering the stick in his hand. Pitch glanced at the stick warily. He didn't know what it did, but if he had to guess it would probably have magical properties to it, like Jack Frost's staff.

The man began to walk away with a sneer. "Wait!" Pitch ran to catch up to him. "What's your name?" He asked breathlessly, with curiosity. The man looked over his shoulder slightly, contemplating.

"Lord Voldemort." Was the only reply he got before a black mist much like his sand, covered the man and he was gone. Pitch looked at the spot the man had been in awe. He had no idea why the man had been in the woods, nor did he know why they met, but one thing was for certain, he was glad they did.

"Lord Voldemort." Pitch breathed, testing the name on his lips. He shivered at the feeling it gave him. Shaking his head, Pitch began walking, trying to find his way out of the forest.

It would be weeks later that the two of them would finally meet again.

- To be continued -