Hello lovelies!

This is my very first Potter fanfic and if I'm being honest, I think it turned out quite well.

I would like to go ahead and dedicate this exceptionally long one shot to the beautiful Reithandina who subtly encouraged me to go with the flow of my writer's heart despite already working on something else.

I hope you all love what I've written.

Ta,

Majix

Parseltongue

It wasn't hard, to find the right pieces of the puzzle, to fix what was broken. For Harry, the knowledge that the greatest Dark Lord of the era was still lingering within the mortal world came in the form of parseltongue.

After all the excitement surrounding Hogwarts died down, Harry was hardly ever left a moment's peace. Ginny was constantly at his side, basking in the glow of being the girlfriend of The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, while the wizarding world's proclaimed savior wanted nothing more than to be by himself.

Ron and Hermione understood the needs of their friend immediately and sought to redirect the spotlight anywhere they could but the two could only do so much. Harry Potter was the savior of them all, the vanquisher of Voldemort and the icon of the light after all and the public was ruthless in their quest to dissect his life bit by bit. Harry himself took it in stride, gritting his teeth and baring the brunt of his unwanted fame. But underneath, he was wearing thin.

Dumbledore had once expressed to him, within the white and surreal walls of King's Cross Station, that power was better left to those that didn't want or desire it, the ones that held it with pride but didn't seek it out. At the present time, Harry politely disagreed with that assessment and even went as far as to laugh in the face of it. The raven haired teen wasn't meant to be in a position of power, and he most certainly wasn't meant to lead. Past experience alone proved that, specifically the Department of Mysteries.

Harry Potter was not meant for the spotlight. He was the silent protector, preferring to linger behind the scenes and do what needed to be done without a fuss. Discression in the matters of importance.

It was these thoughts that eventually lead him to the Black family gardens.

Harry paced back and forth over the cool damp earth in the calmest hours of the morning. Brilliant shades of orange streaked across the sky, half hidden behind the forecasted clouds of London but the ravenette teen payed them no mind. As the quiet male paced, his thoughts dwelled upon the wizarding world.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had not remained as Minister of Magic. That decision alone was a major catalyst for all that was to come. With the unfortunate election of Percy Weasley came the stiff and demanding regulations of dwindling magic. Magic perceived as dark was highly regulated and to be caught using it illegally demanded a hefty toll.

However, what saddened the teen most of all was that nothing had really changed at all.

Creatures were still treated as lesser beings, muggleborns were ridiculed, purebloods unofficially ruled and the slow trickle of magic aware muggles continued to grow. He'd once agreed with Dumbledore'e ideals and his desire to include the muggles. He himself could admit that his first time experiencing the wonders of magic, he'd been so intensely grateful to suddenly be apart of it. However, muggles were a disease.

They found the tricks and words exciting until they realized that such a feat wasn't possible for them. Almost immediately they changed and grew hateful. Purebloods wizards had learned that long ago and it seemed to Harry that the followers of the light would never accept that the two separate beings couldn't merge.

In moments like these, The green eyed teen oftened wondered what the world would've been like if the Dark had won. Despite the Second War being intensely bloody, it remained a sharp turning point for the wizarding world. The Light had once again won, the Dark remained in the shadows and the world of magic was falling apart, one banned spell at a time.

The tired teen plopped down into the garden and laid back, content to feel the steadily warming rays glide over his cheeks, and the cool breeze caressing the exposed flesh of his arms. Within the envelopment of safety provided by his solitude, Harry allowed himself to mourn for the injustice of it all, for not realizing that things always get worse before they get better. But change required sweat and tears, death and devotion, loyalty and sacrifice. What did the Ministry know of loyalty? Their loyalty could be bought with gold and no true politician would sacrifice anything they'd gained. Greed forbade the promise of change, and Harry regretted it.

Voldemort had sacrificed. He'd sacrificed his very sanity to dominate the canidacy for change, to seek the power of knowledge and leadership.

If Harry knew then what he knew now, the teen was more than ready to agree that he would've stepped aside for the Dark Lord.

Harry laid in that growing patch of sun for hours, turning the thoughts back and forth within his head, lulling himself deeper and deeper into relaxation and focus until his words began slipping from his mouth rather than echoing within his skull. His thoughts darkened, tracing back the ripples his choices had created and through the most unconscious of choices, Harry's English slid into the seductively intoxicating whispers of parseltongue.

The sun hung overhead at mid afternoon when Harry finally let his thoughts drift off and rest with a final comment.

"I've doomed us all."

"You do not appear in peril to me, human Speaker."

Avada Kadavra green eyes snapped up to the curious serpent as the dry coolness of scales glided over the skin of his arm.

His eyes flashed with alarm, "You can understand me?"

The smaller creature seemed to appear almost insulted for flicker of a second before slithering up to face the teen, "You speak the language of serpents, of course I understand."

The snake language.

But that wasn't possible! His ability to speak with snakes was directly related to the Horcrux that'd been destroyed when Voldemort himself hit Harry with the Killing Curse. He had no relation to Salazar Slytherin and the parseltongue ability didn't just appear.

Dumbledore said that the Horcrux would die, that Harry's soul was entirely his own. He said that Voldemort had killed his own soul.

"My guesses have always been good…"

But Dumbledore was wrong, the old man guessed wrong.

His breath quickened to the point of hyperventilation as the truth behind those softly hissed words hit home. The Horcrux still existed within him, Voldemort was still alive! There was one single Horcrux left that continued to bind the Dark Lord to the mortal plane, and for once, Harry knew exactly where it was. There were no guessing games, veils of manipulation and problem solving.

Harry looked down at the snake coiled around his wrist, staring at him expectantly. He wasn't an overly large snake, perhaps a foot or so and his body, at the very widest, was only as big around as a loosely rolled bundle of parchment. Leafy green scales covered his back, fading into the color of deep pine as they wrapped around the serpent's belly, "What is your name?"

The snake flicked his tongue at the ravenette slowly, "I do not have a name that would be of any meaning to a human. If you plan to take me along, you may give me whatever name you wish."

The creature was blunt, to the point, and Harry knew immediately that he liked it, "If you want to come, I'll name you Sheridan."

The newly named snake said nothing as he coiled up around Harry's forearm, basking in the natural heat of his body. The brush of scales felt more calming than Harry would've thought but he paid the small reptile no mind as he made his way back in to the Ancient and Noble house of Black, ready to once again save the wizarding world from chaos.

Hour after hour, Harry poured his time and effort into searching through the thick and expansive Black library, searching for anything and everything on acquiring a body.

The easiest way would be to just kill a wizard or a muggles and slip the soul shard in to the victim's flesh but Harry was more than positive that the Dark Lord wouldn't particularly enjoy wearing another's face. He was a man who liked to live as his own, not behind somebody else. The second, though much harder way, would require a missive amount of energy as well as intimate knowledge of the bodily systems, right down to the carefully coded messages transmitted between DNA strands. That too was cast aside, quickly filed away as a last possible resort. The raven haired male contemplated using the same ritual that Peter Pettigrew had used all those years ago in the graveyard but the idea of bringing Thomas Marvolo Riddle back and forcing his soul into a fragile serpentine body didn't appeal to Harry in the least.

Hours turned to days, and days in to weeks, and still the younger man couldn't find what he needed. It occurred to Harry that perhaps he would find something useful within the Black family vault in Gringotts but the teen was slightly reluctant to return, especially after the dragon fiasco. The goblins had begrudgingly forgiven him but Harry knew it would never make up for what he did to their bank, as well as their reputation. A grudge like that was never forgotten.

After much contemplation, Harry sighed with resignation. There was only one person brilliant enough to possess the knowledge he needed. Of course, the teen could've chosen to comb through Dark Arts tombs until he finally found one that would work, but after long and silent hours of fickle thoughts, Harry decided that he'd much rather ask.

An air of surrealism hung over his thoughts like a veil as Harry Potter stood outside of Malfoy Manor.

The ancestral home to the Malfoy's looked just as intimidating as it had the first time he'd been there. Despite not being held against his will, scared to death at the thought of Voldemort's discovery, with his face swollen and sore from a hastily thrown Stinging Jinx, the manor still brought a shiver down his spine.

The wards tingled against his skin as Harry made his way up the drive and stood before the giant black oak doors. Steady hands gripped the ornamental knockers and he rapped it against the door quickly three times before taking a step back and waiting patiently.

Within moments, the teen could hear the distinct pop of a house elf behind the wood and the door was slowly opened.

"Mr. Harry Potter, Sir!"

The little creature looked instantly flustered and Harry was reminded of the way that Dobby used to say his name. It brought a sharp twang of sadness to his heart, the locational setting only driving the feeling deeper before he pushed it away in favor of the small being in front of him.

"Hello, I need to speak with Draco Malfoy."

The oddity of using Malfoy's first name lingered only briefly before the elf nodded enthusiastically and bid him entrance, "Master is this way. If yous will follow me, Jix will take you to the Master's sitting room."

Harry nodded absentmindedly and followed the excited elf through the winding halls of the ancient manor. Tasteful and expensive art decorated the walls, magical and muggle alike, and the portraits ignored him in favor of their own company.

All too soon, Harry found himself in the intimate office of his former nemesis. Though quite similarly decorated to what he would imagine his predecessor would've had, Draco's space had a certain feel that didn't match Lucius. The books were arranged more meticulously, and the dark wood surface of his desk was slightly faded from where his elbows would have sat. It held all the regal authority of the Malfoy name but underneath the surface held a faint air of disinterest.

Before Harry could continue his inspection, the Malfoy heir gracefully pulled both doors open and the gaze of two stormy grey eyes landed on his face.

"Potter."

Harry studied the blonde male with lingering silence. He hadn't changed much, except that his hair was longer and he'd started to look a bit more like Lucius. His pale features hadn't lost any of their aristocratic nature, and now that Harry knew where to look he could easily see that the youngest Malfoy shared many of the same attributes as Sirius. However, Draco appeared tired. His attitude wasn't as carefree as it had been in their youth. He supposed that some things couldn't be forgotten.

A brief remembrance of the scared teen pointing his wand shakily at Dumbledore flashed across Harry's conscious before the blonde cleared his throat.

The ravenette almost appeared sheepish before the somber expression returned to his face, "I need to speak with your Father, Draco."

The pureblood suddenly went still, his features going blank as a slate but his eyes couldn't lie. He was nervous and utterly caught off guard. Malfoy didn't even seem to notice that Harry had called him by his first name but the ravenette stood his ground, staring into startled grey eyes.

"...My Father..?"

The green eyed male nodded carefully, treading lightly. It was no secret that Draco took over the Malfoy Empire after the Dark's fall. Lucius Malfoy hadn't been seen since the Battle of Hogwarts and despite their disgraced name, it caused quite a stir when Draco took control of his father's legacy.

"Potter, my Father hasn't spoken to anyone since -."

Harry cut him off, "It's about Voldemort."

The irritation of being cut off was instantly replaced with a slack jaw. Grey eyes were wide with alarm and Draco parted his lips to speak only to close them. It only took a moment to compose himself, the arrogant mask quickly falling back into place, but the damage had been done.

"Why would you want to speak with my Father about the Dark Lord."

It wasn't a question as much as it was a statement and the younger Malfoy crossed his arms sharply. He wore a long sleeved, cream colored jumper and Harry briefly wondered if the Dark Mark still sat stark against the aristocrat's pale flesh. But Harry didn't have time wonder, or to contemplate how he was going to get Draco to agree.

"I saved your life, Draco. Twice."

Darkened eyes seemed to zone out for a moment, no doubt recalling the past and Harry could almost see the roar of the flames behind those silver pools, later cloaked by the Dementors within the Ministry that threatened to cart him away to Azkaban. Harry had saved him from both horrors and they both knew it.

The mention of the owed life debts hung heavily in the air before Draco finally let out a sigh of resignation, "What is it, exactly, that you want from my Father, Potter?"

Green eyes betrayed nothing as he stared at Draco's form, "His knowledge."

The blonde raised an eyebrow in question but Harry didn't elaborate, instead, he chose to sweeten the pot, "And if you do this for me, I will consider both life debts fulfilled."

"Why would you waste such a valuable opportunity, Potter?" Draco hissed quietly, "What knowledge could my Father possibly possess that would be worth two life debts?"

He said nothing but the Malfoy heir wouldn't budge, and as the silence continued to grow painfully tense, Harry realized that Draco wouldn't reapond one way or the other until the dark haired male gave him some sort of explanation.

Harry finally relented and he stared into the blonde's eyes for another long moment before replying, "Hope for the wizarding world."

Draco stood still as a statue before he spun on heel and began walking from the room, "Follow me, Potter."

The two contrasting figures stood at the very edge of the West Wing. The corridor was empty and hanging on the chilly side but a lone strip of light illuminated the bottom of a door down the farthest hall.

"My Father has made it perfectly clear that I'm no longer welcome in this part of the manor, so I'll leave you here to make your way."

Harry nodded intensely and didn't spare Draco a second glance before walking calmly down the hall, each step bringing him closer to the faint scrap of light.

He sincerely hoped that Lucius could help him, and Harry had no doubt that he was the person to ask. Most of the wizarding world believed that Lucius Malfoy was nothing more than a mindless zombie these days, but Harry was quite content to argue the opposite. There towards the end, most of Voldemort's followers were not treated kindly, but that did not make them any less loyal. Lucius Malfoy was a dark wizard and Harry doubted that there was anything that could change it. Then again, he didn't want that to be changed.

Within Harry's mind, Lucius was the best person to ask, the most sane of Voldemort's faithful followers and if there was anybody who would've wanted the Dark Lord returned, it was Lucius.

Harry chose not to knock and instead, he opened the doors and entered silently.

The room was everything that Harry imagined a Slytherin like Lucius would've made it out to be. It was the size of a small flat, with deep emerald green walls with liquid silver trim. Papers were scattered with reckless abandon all over the floor and off to the far side Harry could see a desk covered in the loose sheets of parchment. The room contained a single large window and two highbacked chairs sat in front of it, quietly over looking the seemingly endless gardens of Malfoy Manor.

Within one of thoses seats sat Lucius Malfoy, with all the grace and importance of his worthy name. His hair wasn't as blonde and shiny as it'd once been, but it was still tied at the back of his neck with a pine green ribbon.

"Mr. Potter. I thought, perhaps, that you would seek my company at some point or another."

The ravenette was briefly startled but he smiled, "How did you know It was me? It could've been Draco."

Lucius cast a look over his shoulder and sneered, "Mr. Potter, my son wouldn't have dared to enter these rooms without my permission, let alone without knocking, so please, don't insult my parenting in such a manor."

Harry wanted to laugh but he held his tongue. It wasn't the time for jokes or even pleasantries, but Malfoy senior, ever the regal pureblood aristocrat offered Harry the seat across from him. Just as Harry sat down, Jix popped in to set a glass of Firewhisky in front of him before disappearing.

The two males stared at each other across the table, silently daring the other to speak first. After a few moments of tense silence, Harry leaned back in his chair and took a sip of the potent alcohol, "It's still there, isn't it?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow in question and Harry flickered his gaze to the elder man's left forearm.

Experienced grey eyes darkened, "It will always be there, Mr. Potter. Your point, if you'd be so kind?"

"I disagree."

The elder looked minorly taken aback, "You disagree?"

The raven haired man nodded and took another small sip of his drink before gesturing unabashedly at the inside of Malfoy's arm, "It wouldn't be there if the Dark Lord was completely dead.

Had Harry not been paying attention, he would've missed the quick flash of fire that blazed within those eyes, "Mr. Potter, if anybody knew the Dark Lord to be completely dead, it would be you."

A smirk graced the full lips of the wizarding world's savior, "My point exactly, Mr. Malfoy."

He let the older wizard roll that comment around his thoughts for a second before the younger leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees as he leaned towards the elder, His voice quiet, "I need a body, Lucius."

Startled eyes darted to the face of The-Boy-Who-Lived, "Pardon?"

Harry cast a nervous glance around the room and scooted forward in his chair, setting his half full glass on the small table and he beckoned Lucius forward, relieved when the elder Malfoy didn't put up a fuss.

His voice dropped a notch below a whisper, even after casting a hasty Silencing Charm, "The Dark will have once last chance to rise above the Light but I need a body."

The fire of motivation had quickly rekindled the icy flat eyes of the eldest Malfoy after his proclamation and they'd talked for a little over three hours about how to bring back the Darkest Lord.

Finally, after much debate, they settled on a potion that would have to be brewed with the utmost care, without flaw or deviation. Harry had internally groaned when he realized that the potion was the most logical choice.

In the three years since the final battle, Harry had gained all sorts of knowledge. At first it was just what he was required to learn in order to complete Auror training within the academy but over time, he found that chasing after dark wizards held little to no interest for him. Nor did his life with the youngest Weasley.

He found her fawning infuriating, and it became apparent to him that she was not going to become his wife when she constantly sought to drag him back into the spotlight of his fame. After breaking up with her, his time spent at the Burrow took a dramatic plunge. He suddenly found that he preferred to stay in the Black family library, and after avoiding it for so long, Harry plopped down with one of the many Dark Arts tombs, and read it cover to cover.

Knowledge built rapidly after that, in all areas that he could manage. He was still best at defensive and offensive magic, but his skills in Charms and well as Transfiguration began to grow and strengthen as well. It wasn't long before Ancient Runes began to make sense, and his knowledge of the Darkest Arts soon followed suit.

However, Harry Potter, savior of Wizarding Britian, was still completely and utterly dreadful at Potions.

Which in their current position was maddeningly unhelpful.

It didn't surprise Harry to find out that Lucius was also terrible at Potions, but silt also made it significantly harder to complete their objective.

Harry pondered this issue as he said his goodbyes to the elder Malfoy and promised to be in touch soon. With his granted permission, The-Boy-Who-Lived apparated directly from the elder's study to the park just down the street from number twelve Grimmauld Place.

On a whim, the dark haired male sat on the lone swing and idly pushed himself back and forth. He needed a Potions Master, but not just any Potions Master. He needed the best of the best, possibly the most skilled Potioneer in the world, but unfortunately the man was unavailable. Death tended to do that.

He sighed in avid frustration, despite being a snarky git, Severus Snape was, most likely, the most skilled Potions Master of their era and even after all the times Snape saved him, no matter how unknowingly, Harry needed his help once again.

It'd taken many days before Harry finally accepted what he needed to do. The ravenette needed a Potions Master, he needed Severus Snape and he was determined to gain his help, despite the fact that his soul had already passed on.

The Forbidden Forest was much darker than Harry remembered but with each step forward into the trees, the green eyed man fell into more and more of a rhythm. The twigs were dry and snapped easily under his footfalls, despite his desire to remain as quiet as possible.

He briefly remembered his first time in this forest, how dark it was in the dead of night as he'd walked side by side with Draco Malfoy and Hagrid's dog Fang. The Gryffindor remembered the glittering liquid silver of unicorns blood and the fear pooling in his veins as Voldemort had turned to him and started to draw closer.

There was no fear now, only determination as he tried to remember the path to the clearing that'd once played host to not only a family of Acromantulas but also his supposed death. Though difficult, it wasn't impossible to navigate after he got past a certain point. The trees lead into a thickening cluster just to the right of the Thestral nest and he followed it eagerly until he once again stood before the iconic clearing.

The appearance of it took his breath away for a fraction of a second as he recalled standing in this exact spot, surrounded by Remus, Sirius, and his mother and father as he sought the courage to take those last few steps and confront his fate. He remembered the weight of that tiny cracked stone in his palm, and the relief he felt when he'd dropped it and strode towards the Dark Lord to face his death with all the bravery of someone far older than himself.

Harry closed his eyes and kneeled where he was, blindly reaching his hand out and patting the dry forest floor until his fingers encountered something smooth and oddly shaped. Nimble digits coiled around the small stone and a tiny smile graced Harry's lips as his thumb glided over the fine crack in the rock's surface.

Without even having to look, Harry stood and Disapparated on the spot.

After the battle of Hogwarts, the first thing he'd done was take a trip to Gringotts. After apologizing profusely, they'd allowed him an audience with his vault manager who, after giving him several dirty looks, informed him that he was the heir to both the Potter fortune as well as the Black fortune.

Harry knew that Sirius had left him something but after looking at the sheer amount of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts waiting for him within the depths of the goblin bank, the wizard almost had a heart attack. The first thing he did was donate a VERY generous amount of gold to the goblins to cover the cost of damages. The creatures weren't as angry with him after that, especially when he also gave them the sword of Godric Gryffindor for compensation, but they still glared in his direction every time he entered the bank.

Not long after that, he'd looked more in-depth into the life of one Severus Snape. Not much was known about him during the war due to his spy position for both sides but earlier in his youth, he'd been an extremely well known name in the Potion journals and committees across the globe. He was the sole creator for the Wolfsbane potion, along with many alternative forms of the Pepper-Up, Blood Replenishing, and Dreamless Sleep potion.

Harry also found out that after his death Spinner's End was being put up for sale. At a moment's notice, Harry had contracted Gringotts and requested that they set up the necessary payment forms. Within three hours the property was his, along with everything inside.

So, instead of heading back to Grimmauld Place to summon the often grouchy Potion's Master, Harry made his way up the path to Spinner's End.

It looked slightly sad, sitting all by itself in the shade but when the male thought about it, the place matched Snape and he was glad that he'd never changed anything. In reality, this was the first time he'd ever come to the lone house.

Harry listened to the gravel crunch under the soles of his feet as he made his way up the alley, carefully avoiding contact with anybody and anything as he stood in front of the withered door and pulled the ancient looking key from his robes. The brass slid easily into the lock and Harry could feel the wards welcoming him like the brush of silk against his skin.

The green eyed male slipped inside and locked the door behind him, casting a soft Lumos and he looked around.

The walls were lined with bookshelves and Harry couldn't help but to gape. The tombs looked so old, brimming with rich and ever present knowledge just waiting to be learned. A few knick knacks sat on top of the fire place and Harry unconsciously inhaled, basking in the scent of musty pages, dried herbs and an assortment of other potions ingredients. He felt like an everyday Hermione as he realized how much the scent appealed to him and a small smile crossed his lips.

Severus Snape was a very meticulous man and as Harry looked around the room, he registered the particular placement of everything in the room. The chairs in front of the fireplace were angled just so that they'd be in the direct path of sunlight that'd most likely stream through the single window. It also occurred to Harry that with where the leather chairs were seated, when the fireplace was lit, Snape wouldn't have had to worry about the shadows making it hard for him to read.

The entire layout reminded him of the older man in subtle ways and as Harry pulled the Resurrection Stone from his pocket, he couldn't help his excitement. No doubt Snape wouldn't be exactly pleased to see him, but Harry hoped that, perhaps, the man would at least listen to what he had to say.

He turned the small stoned over in his palm, thinking only of the Onyx eyed professor, the deep mysterious sound of his rich baritone voice and the ever present sneer that accompanied his sharp stinging wit.

"I see that not even the afterlife is sacred to you, Potter."

Harry opened his eyes and flashed a deep smile at the transparent man. Even in death, Snape was wearing the heavy black cloaks that he loved so much, no doubt because of how they billowed out behind him at every turn.

"Professor Snape."

The ghost sneered, "I assure you, boy, that they don't teach potions in the afterlife. I am no longer a professor, to you or anybody else."

Harry sat in one of the well worn chairs and smirked, "Well that's a relief, I'm still dreadful at Potions and I don't think lessons after death would change it either." He flashed the elder a sheepish grin.

Harry almost gasped as the feared Potions Master rolled his eyes, "Yes, yourself along with hundreds of the other dunderheads that I called students. Now, if you please, would you mind informing me why you've dragged me from my peaceful afterlife, Potter?"

A flicker of guilt echoed through Harry as he considered that fact. He was disturbing Snape and though he desperately needed the man's help, said man had already sacrificed enough. Perhaps he should have sought another Potions Master.

Indecision raged through his conscious as Snape waited in an uncharacteristicly patient manor for Harry to collect his thoughts.

Finally, after arguing with himself for a solid two minutes, Harry cleared his throat, "I need your help."

Snape looked at him with a look of morbid amusement and arched a brow in a very Malfoyish fashion, "I'm unaware if you realize this, but I'm dead, Potter. I don't think I'll be able to help you." He sneered, but it lacked the malicious nature that it'd held towards him in life, "Not that I'd want, or agree, to help you anyway."

Harry swallowed thickly. He'd never said a good word to Professor Snape, and after he'd found out the truth behind his anger and his hate, it was to late. The man was gone, and Harry was left with something unspoken lingering within that he was now struggling to dredge up from the depths.

Severus looked expectantly at the ravenette and Harry glanced away, "You were.. are a brilliant man, Snape."

He glanced up and the shocked expression on the man's face only urged him on, "Not only did you devote your entire life to helping the son of the man you hated, but you also tricked the most powerful dark wizard in the world, eventually leading to his downfall. You were incredibly brave, Severus and I will never forget that, nor will I let anybody else forget it."

The cold eyes of the transparent man seemed to soften a bit and for the first time, he seemed aware of his surroundings. He looked around in confusion, "Potter, why are we in my former residence?"

A blush crossed the younger man's cheeks as he realized he hadn't expected Snape to notice their location. He wanted to lie, but as he looked up at the former spy, he couldn't.

"I bought Spinner's End so that it wouldn't be sold to somebody that had no respect for who you were and the items still inside it."

For the first time in his life, Harry witnessed a very speechless Severus Snape, "You bought my home?"

Harry hummed in agreement and looked around the room, "I did."

Snape cast him a look, "And you've changed nothing?"

The wizard shook his head, "A house elf dusts once a week, but no. It will remain as it is."

The Potions Master stood quietly, looking over the son of his unrequited love and his enemy with dark, unnerving eyes before speaking, "Again Potter, what can I do for you?"

Harry squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, "I'm gonna need your help making a potion."

Dark eyes flashed dangerously and he hissed angrily, "You dragged me from eternal peace to help you make a bloody potion?"

Harry nodded but didn't relinquish eye contact, "An extremely complicated and complex potion that has the possibility of saving the entire wizarding world."

Two formerly dark brows seemed to rise to the elder's hairline, "Merlin, Potter, what are you up to now?"

A cocky smirk danced across his lips, "I'm bringing back the Dark Lord."

It took exactly three hours to convince Snape to help him. At first he'd gaped like a fish out of water, and then, after repeatedly calling Harry a moron and an idiot, he allowed the boy to explain. Harry told his former professor about the current wizarding world and the International Statute of Secrecy being in constant jeopardy of falling through. He spoke of magical regulation, the herding of dark creature and most of all, the lack of change.

After three hours of explanations, Severus finally agreed that something had to be done, and that perhaps Lord Voldemort was the answer.

Severus crossed his transparent legs and Harry idly wondered how the ghostly being didn't sink through the chair he was currently sitting in.

"So, what exactly do you propose to do, Potter. The Dark Lord is dead."

Harry shook his head, "No, he isn't." The younger man tapped his famous lightning bolt scar, "Dumbledore was wrong. One survived."

If he could've paled, Harry was sure that Snape would've been white as a sheet, "You're still a Horcrux."

Harry nodded silently and the dark wizard steadily sunk into contemplation for a moment, "In that case, I assume you're looking for a body."

Harry remained silent but he didn't deny the other wizard's observational guess.

"As you said it would be complex, I feel that it's also safe to assume that you've decided to try the Time Warp potion."

"Yes."

Snape sighed, "You couldn't have picked a more complicated potion, Potter. The ingredients alone will cost you quite a fortune, not to mention the extras for when you undoubtedly fumble it."

A blush scalded the ravenette's cheeks but he ignored it, "I have gold to spare."

Snape lifted a brow, "And the things from the Ministry?"

Avada Kadavra eyes flashed darkly and a smirk twisted his lips, "I've broken in to the Department of Mysteries once. I'm sure I can do it again."

Despite being the Savior of the wizarding world, there were still some places that Harry just couldn't go, and the lower levels of the Ministry of Magic was one of them. In times like these, he was eternally grateful for the Invisibility Cloak left to him not only by his father, but one of his most ancient ancestors.

Though tightly secured, the Ministry relaxed at night when nobody was present, and underneath the cloak, Harry found it quite easy to sit on the fountain's edge and silently watch the countless witches and wizards passing him by until the Ministry inevitably closed for the night.

It was surreal, walking around the Ministry at night and before long, Harry found himself staring at the very door that he'd dreamed about almost every night during his fifth year. It appeared much less ominous than the last time he'd seen it. The stone was still dark and threatening, but Sirius wasn't being tortured behind it this time. This time, all he had to watch out for was himself.

Harry quickly bypassed the room of spinning doors and made his way directly to the Death Chamber.

There, in the very center, stood the great stone archway that'd taken the life of his beloved Godfather all those years ago. The pain in his heart was still raw over it and Harry knew that of all the Death Eaters, Bellatrix was the only one that he wouldn't have been able to forgive, had she still been alive. The whispers echoed silently across his subconscious, caressing his thoughts like a long time lover.

He approached with obvious caution and watched the almost invisible material drift effortlessly back and forth across the stone gate. Harry slowly pulled his holly wand free from his robes and opened the deep Crystal jar before snipping the practically nonexistent material one thread at a time.

The voices increased in volume as he continued to tug thread after thread from the ancient artifact created by Salazar Slytherin himself. For a moment, Harry swore that he could almost hear Sirius calling his name, beckoning him, whispering to him and asking Harry to join him behind the veil. It splintered his heart to have to turn away from the soft, sad voice, but with great effort, he did so and silently made his way out of the chamber and on to his next mission.

It took the dark haired male a bit longer to find the time chamber and even longer to locate the life cycle dust. There were rows upon rows of fascinating objects that grabbed at his attention. The largest wall was solely dedicated to the continuously changing life cycles of Earth's creatures; everything from hummingbirds to jellyfish all the way to unicorns. They all existed within the grapefruit sized glass balls on the shelf.

However, on the very bottom rack, in the farthest corner, sat ten tiny orbs no bigger than an acorn, glittering shards of multicolored glass spun in an intricate web within the small spheres and Harry watched them with rapt attention.

The way the particles moved within them could only be compared to a tiny cosmos, an itty bitty universe swirling inside of a fragile glass casing. The orbs themselves were extremely rare and the dust inside of them was, ironically, used to make the sand inside of a Time-turner.

One by one, Harry carefully cast a levitation charm on each of the glass balls and lowered them each into a tiny velvet bag, not daring to touch them for fear of being sucked into an alternative reality. Severus had warned him explicitly that even the slightest contact with the sphere's surface could lead to irreversible consequences.

Harry doubted that it'd be enough to fool the Unspeakables for long, but he cast a glamor over the empty slots none the less before quickly departing and making his way to the deepest level of the Department.

Three solid feet of goblin crafted steel stood between The-Boy-Who-Lived and the most detrimental piece to his potion. He studied the door carefully and even went as far as to glide his fingertips over the surface. The reflective silver rippled gently and Harry stared at it in confusion. There were no runes etched within the surface, no wards that kept it from being accessed but the green eyed male had no idea how to get to the other side.

Intuition bid the ravenette to press his palm against the surface of the door and Harry felt a slight lurch in his stomach when he applied a small amount of pressure and felt the metal giving way under his touch.

Excitement coursed through the wizard before being extinguished when he could get no more than his wrist through. Disappointment quickly made itself known and Harry wracked his brain for any possible password or spell that he would need to get through.

A brief warning flickered through his conscious and the coil in his stomach drew taunt. He was still in the Ministry of Magic, and the more time he spent here, the greater the chance that he would be caught and imprisoned for life.

The thought of imprisonment brought a sudden flash of Gellert Grindelwald sitting in Numenguard to the front of Harry's thoughts, and along with him, Albus Dumbledore.

He considered the older wizard and without thinking parted his lips and hissed in the language of serpents, "For the Greater Good."

The rebounding pressure against the dark haired wizard's wrist vanished, catching the young man off guard and he stumbled easily through the doorway, fighting to catch himself before he fell and broke something.

After finally catching his balance, Harry looked around the faintly lit room with wonder.

Dozens of tiny glass containers hovered in straight rows against the right wall. Almost all of them had Dumbledore'e loopy elegant script on the label, two dozen or more contacting his own scratchy writing and only five or six of them baring the handwriting of anybody else. The softly illuminated threads of memory sat in quiet stillness and Harry gazed at them intently before turning away.

When the ravenette's eyes finally landed on the slender thirteen inch stick of yew, his breath caught in his chest. Voldemort's Wand. It was just as pale as it was the first time Harry saw it within the dark and gloomy graveyard in Little Hangleton.

A gut tight feeling that he wouldn't be alone for long flooded through him and Harry rapidly put each and every memory in a small padded bag, casting a Cushioning Charm on it as well before also grabbing the wand, ignoring the sharp jolt of electricity in his palm as he turned and made his way back through the doorway.

There would be no disguising the theft of these items, not that he expected the Unspeakables to check it often, but when they found the memories, as well as the time spheres missing, panic would undoubtedly consume the Ministry.

It took hours to grind the spheres into powder finer than dust within the wood bowl, and it took even longer to stir in the memories of Voldemort. The memory strands didn't want to mix, but with steady guidance from Snape, Harry managed to turn the combination into a glittering paste before coating the entire inside of his platinum couldron with it. The sparkling silver only made the blue sand like substance glow brighter.

The green eyed wizard was almost entirely prepared for the potion he was undoubtedly going to have to make, however it demanded that the time dust be soaked in the full moons light, and the next full moon wasn't for another four days.

During his small time gap, Harry focused all his energy to figuring out how he was supposed to remove the Horcrux from his magical core without damaging it or himself in the process. Snape refused to help him on the grounds that he'd only agreed to offer potion guidance and Harry couldn't help but to roll his eyes at the subtly childish gesture.

After careful consideration, Harry decided that the best way would be to focus inward and attempt to reason with the soul shard. Logically speaking, it was a part of Voldemort, and therefore should be able to speak, just as the diary had spoken.

Clearing his thoughts was simple enough, and the organized manifestation of his thoughts rapidly melted into Hogwarts herself. There wasn't a single brick out of place and Harry stood within the Great Hall, looking up at the ceiling where the majority of his memories were housed. Where the normally starry sky would have resided, his memories played. They flickered through easily, the fog of recollections ghosted with brief flashes of his time at the magical school, and the Burrow. Meaningless memories that he enjoyed but had absolutely no use for.

He smiled fondly at the empty hall and recalled his first time seeing it, and the magic involved. He cast a look up and watched his eleven year old self walk mesmerized down the center lane towards the Sorting Hat.

Harry watched for a few more minutes, enjoying the faint glow of happy memories before making his way from the Great Hall and guiding his astral form through the familiar pathways of his only true home. It'd taken a lot of effort to sort his memories in such away, however it proved useful. Everything was where it should be. All his memories of McGonagall awaited him in the Transfiguration classroom, just as his recollections of Snape were in the Potions class down in the dungeons. It continued in such a way but some things were special. His memories of Sirius remained hidden within his trunk in the Gryffindor common room. Remus and his father lived along side his Godfather there, but not in the way that Sirius dominated the space.

There were some things, however, that were so painful that he had no wish to see them; the death of his beloved Godfather, and Cedric, the image of Dumbledore falling from the Astrology tower, the war in general. The pain of them lingered silently behind the ever changing walls that hid the Room of Requirement. But beyond that, there was one more place, a place within the castle that only Harry could open, and that was where Tom resided.

The Chamber of Secrets sat directly below the girl's bathroom on the third floor just as it always had. The door was stone cold and the snakes sat in their respective positions, awaiting the word that would open them wide. Harry stared at the door that he hadn't opened since the creation of his mind palace, where he'd hastily shoved all the memories of Voldemort that he possessed. With his current knowledge, Harry wished he would've paid more attention to what he put in there, but the past couldn't be altered.

He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes, "Open."

The heavy sound of stone bellies slithering around the circle made his blood race and Harry quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind him. It was just as he'd left it in the real world, including the giant Basilisk, however, within his mind the massive serpent was still alive, guarding his memories. At his entrance, the great guardian slid from the mouth of Salazar Slytherin to greet her master at the foot of the endless pool.

"Akasha."

The beast hissed in approval and offered an affectionate greeting as he came up the darkened pathway to stand before her, "Master. It's been so long."

Harry smiled at the massive snake and reached ouch to run his fingers over the smooth plane of scales. Despite the fact that she was created by his imagination to guard some of his darkest memories, he felt a deep affection for the serpent, and a flicker of guilt slipped through him when he tried to remember the last time he'd spoken with the guardian.

"Thank you for guarding him so diligently."

Her eyes glowed a brighter yellow at his words and she flicked her tongue out at him, "Master?"

"I need you to take me to him, Akasha. I need to find Tomas Riddle."

Slytherin's great beast hissed darkly but moved away from the blackened water, "You'll find the means within the serpent statue to your left. He resides at the bottom of the pool."

Harry stared into the mirrored surface of the water, wondering how he couldn't have known, how he could've missed this. The final Horcrux. He hadn't felt a twinge of any kind within his scar since the final battle when it'd been almost constantly burning. He didn't have dreams of torture or half conscious visions. All was quiet. However, the same could be said about his childhood. The infamous scar hadn't so much as tingled while he lived at the Dursley's. Dark thoughts made his eyes go flat as the teen considered his "loving" family but he pushed them away in favor of inspecting the statue.

A minor part of his conscious wondered why he had to search at all, and why he didn't just dive in to the pool. It wasn't as if he'd get hurt. It was his own mind after all, and no matter how subconscious, he'd created everything within this version of Hogwarts. Including the pool. However, if he'd created everything, then Harry also created the hiding spot within the statue, along with whatever it housed.

The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice searched until he found a loose fang. After careful inspection, Harry pulled it free and dumped the contents into his hand. Gillyweed. The slimy plant surprised him, but at the same time it didn't. It'd worked wonders in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and it only made sense that his subconscious would've chosen something that he already knew would work.

Harry didn't bother to change, he just offered the snake a nod and stuffed the disgusting plant into his mouth, choking it down and waiting a few seconds before he leapt into the water.

Just like before, the gills burned as they came in and Harry wanted nothing more than to claw his own throat out. His skin itched where the webs were growing in and connecting between his toes and a small sigh pulled from him as his new body approved of the temperature difference. The wizard took an experimental breath of air, and when the air passed harmlessly through his aquatic lungs, he set off towards the bottom.

Darkness enveloped the stone basin, making it appear even more bottomless than it already did and as Harry pulled out his wand, casting a faint Lumos, he continued to swim. Sensitive skin could feel the temperature dropping. Familiarly different magic brushed across the flesh of his astral form and the dull pulse sent shivers racing down his spine.

It felt like unwillingly contained power, a monster that longed to break free.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Harry reached the bottom, the light of his wand practically reflecting against the walls. On the far side of the watery prison, a coffin made of glass stood inside the wall, as if it'd been crafted there by Salazar Slytherin himself and Harry briefly wondered if the hidden resting place existed within the real world as well.

Ignoring his thoughts, Harry swam closer and raised his lightened wand, peering past the glass. There, behind the fragile barrier, stood Thomas Marvolo Riddle. He appeared no more than twenty-eight, thirty if you stretched it. His skin was pale from the lack of sun and his aristocratic nose sat between two beautifully sculpted cheek bones. Dark lashes lined the delicate lids that hid the Dark Lord's eyes and the Savior of the Wizarding World found himself extremely curious as to what color they would be.

He appeared to be in the deepest of sleeps and suddenly the ravenette wasn't sure of how he was going to pull this off. How did he rouse Voldemort? Did he just speak? Would he have to release him first? And more importantly, was there a wrong way to go about it? If he released the man, would he be possessed as Ginny had been?

After a quick debate with himself, Harry decided that the easiest option would be to simply talk to him, but something told him that he'd be forced to appeal to the man's ego before getting any type of responce.

"Heir to the greatest of the Founding Four."

Pale lids flew open and stared at him through the glass, startling the green eyed male. He hadn't expected the Dark Lord to acknowledge him so fast. The younger male assumed that he'd have to poke and prod before the other man would become intrigued enough to deem him worthy company. It didn't occur to Harry that Voldemort would be waiting for him.

Deep maroon eyes stared into Avada Kadavra green and neither of them spoke. Harry suspected that Tom was waiting on him since he'd come all this way to talk to the elder, but now he was here, Harry found that he couldn't find the words to speak.

This one man, this wizard, had come closer to immortality than any other. He survived death, and was the driving force behind two separate wars. Dumbledore might not have acknowledged it, but Tom Riddle held the highest test scores that Hogwarts ever had. He was an ambitious boy that had, at one point, traveled the world, searching out vague and mostly forgotten forms of magic from all races and cultures. He was charming and persuasive to a fault with a quick tongue made of the purest silver; not to mention that he was the last surviving member of the ancient Slytherin line.

Harry didn't consider himself to be a dark wizard, but to assume that he was purely light would be laughable. His particular shade of grey was a bit darker than most, but the light still sparked within. That being said, the young wizard wouldn't help but to be impressed by Voldemort's dark nature.

The man was so powerful, and so evil, that wizards across Europe, perhaps even the world, feared the very sound of his name. At first, Harry hadn't thought much of that, but as time went on, he considered just how impressive that was. Every single witch and wizard knew his name and what he was capable of. Aside from Dumbledore, there wasn't a single magical being that was willing to think his name, let alone speak it aloud.

And as Harry stared into the angelicly beautiful face of his once enemy, Harry gathered all his Gryffindor courage and prepared to make a deal with the devil.

"On the 13th, four days from now, I will call for you. Will you come?"

The Dark Lord raised a brow, "Why would I do such a thing, Potter?"

Harry pressed both hands to the glass and stared into the memorizing depths of Riddle's eyes, "I'm going to free you."

Of all the things Voldemort had been expecting, that didn't seem to be one of them. The look of utter shock appeared almost mistakenly on his features, as if it'd never been there before and Harry couldn't help but to stare. He could feel the power rolling off the man in deep waves and he longed to cocoon himself within it.

Voldemort finally composed himself and he hissed menacingly, "Why would the Light's Golden Boy want to free Lord Voldemort?"

Harry frowned, "Does it matter? Will you come or not?"

The Dark Lord glared at him with cold eyes and nodded once.

"Four days"

The elder tipped his head once more in acknowledgment before letting his eyes side shut, effectively blocking out the rest of the world while Harry was forced to swim back to the surface, his body starting to change back when he got close to the surface, just as it had before.

With a little effort, Harry hauled himself from the pool and turned to face the giant Basilisk. She sat coiled in the same place she was when he'd dived in, her unsettling yellow gaze focused on him.

"When I call, I need you to release him."

The serpent dipped her head, "Of course, Master. I live to serve you."

Harry didn't bother with a drying spell, he merely gazed at the impressive creature and smiled, "Thank you, Akasha."

He closed his eyes and steadily breathed, remembering the real world around him, and the ravenette felt the slight pull as he returned himself to his physical body.

"Well?"

Harry didn't open his eyes as the condescending baritone Snape's voice reached his ears. He merely flashed a coy and knowing smile that radiated mischief, "Now we wait."

Four days. 5,760 hours. 345,600 seconds. Within that span of time, Harry had paced, meditated, read, practiced, slept, ate excessively and tended his garden. He helped Kretcher cleaned out Grimmauld Place, granting the elf an entire room of his own to store the Black Family items that he wanted to keep. The elf had been especially helpful after that.

For the most part, Harry left Snape alone, but every so often he would drag the man from the afterlife to ask a ridiculous question, or inquire about the Time Warp potion.

He even went as far as to prepare a room for the Dark Lord. Though they would be doing the ritual at Spinner's End, Harry didn't think they'd end up staying there long. The green eyed teen wasn't even sure that Voldemort would let him live long enough to hear him out, but regardless of the outcome, Harry was positive that the Wizarding World would soon be back on track.

The day dragged on slowly before the first darkened rays of twilight streaked across the sky. Harry sat beside the window and stared intently up into beginning stages of night, his eyes looking for any sign of the moon. Minutes ticked by before the round swell of the full moon appeared faintly in the darkening sky.

The green eyed teen wasted no time, grabbing the glittering platinum couldron by the handles and hauling it outside behind Spinner's End. Light attracting runes laid deeply marked the damp earth in a tight circle. Harry set the heavy couldron within the ring and watched with interest as the rays of moonlight seemed to direct themselves to the container, making the time dust twinkle brightly.

It was a beautiful piece of magic to behold.

The-Boy-Who-Lived sat in front of the faintly glowing couldron with a thoughtful expression on his face before a deep voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Potter."

Harry glanced up to see the pearly translucent form of his former Potions Professor.

"Severus."

The ex-Potion Master's mouth turned downward in a sneer, "I don't recall giving you permission to call me by my given name, Potter."

The younger man gave a small shrug and turned his attention back to the magic at hand.

Behind his back, Snape remained with a pensive expression, considering the son of his most hated enemy, and the love of his life. Harry wasn't what he expected. If anything, Severus was observant. He hadn't been a spy all through the war for nothing, and as he stared at the boy, he could help but to see the unspoken.

"Why are you really bringing the Dark Lord back, Potter?"

The raven haired male turned around to give, what would most likely be, a well rehearsed list of positive hopes that would make even Hermione proud, but Snape cut him off with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow.

"Harry."

Avada Kadavra eyes stared up at the prickly man. It was the very first time he'd ever heard Snape say his first name without the condescending follow up with his surname and a jab aimed at his father or his fame. It stole the words from the wizard's mouth and he looked up at Snape with thoughtful contemplation.

The man had protected him from the Dark Lord, had tried to protect him from Dumbledore. He thought of all he'd seen that fateful night in Dumbledore's office as battle raged within the beloved castle. Harry thought of the dark haired boy that loved his mother with all his heart. He thought of the man who would later grow up to be the feared Potion's Master of Hogwarts. Sometimes, the green eyed wizard could still feel those heavy eyes on him, just as they'd been on him in the Shrieking Shack before the spark of life left them.

"I'm sorry."

Both dark brows rose in surprise, "Pardon?"

Harry smiled sadly, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I heard Voldemort speaking to you, explaining his thoughts on the Elder Wand, and I heard you ask to search me out. I knew that he planned to kill you. I could feel his impatience and I didn't save you. I didn't even try. After all that you sacrificed, and I'm sorry."

The transparent man gasped like a fish before schooling his features back into their signature sneer, "While touching, I assure you, that did not answer my question, Potter."

Uncertainty consumed the younger man as he turned back towards the silver container. How could he explain to somebody that had never felt it? He felt a certain loyalty to the soul shard, to Thomas Riddle, who had experienced such a similar childhood. How could he explain the respect he held in his heart for the Dark Lord?

The brilliant wizard came from nothing. He was an orphan that was kicked and beat down by people that considered him beneath their notice or their time. Tom Riddle was the prodigy of Hogwarts but he still wasn't seen. Not for who he was.

He stood alone, tending his own interests and exploring to his heart's content. It didn't surprise Harry, really. He himself had felt it after the war. When everything else in your life fell apart, you started to live for yourself, find things to drive yourself rather than the expectations of others. Because really, where had those expectations actually gotten Voldemort, or himself for that matter.

He could understand why the Dark Lord chose power. He could understand wanting to build your power, to feed it and nurture it until you were strong enough to crush all of those that rejected you. The green eyed teen thought of his fifth year, and how he'd struggled, the loneliness he felt and the never ending anger.

That was the first time Harry felt the sting of hate. It coiled in the pit of his heart and had grown like a poisonous plant within his psyche. Dumbledore wrote it off as the connection between his mind and the Dark Lord's, but that wasn't the whole truth. The truth was that Voldemort merely fed his hate, along with the pain of Dumbledore's manipulations, and the Wizarding Worlds scorn. Tom Riddle echoed his anger back to him.

They were two sides of the same coin. They were both orphans, and suffered as children. Both males considered Hogwarts to be the only home they ever had. The only difference between then was that Tom had succumbed to the bitterness of his situations, and chose to punish the world for what was done to him; where as Harry let himself be manipulated by his compassion for others.

He could have easily turned out just like Voldemort if it wasn't for his friends. They were the same, in a totally different way.

"He's my soul."

Harry said nothing else, but as he cast a look back at Snape, he could see that nothing else really needed to be said. By some tragically sad miracle, the Potions Master completely understood.

Grueling hours spent over the bubbling couldron with Snape right over his shoulder, hissing directions and belittling him with insults over his abysmal Potion skills.

First he didn't make the unicorn strands even enough, and the mer-scales didn't have the runes carved deep enough into the surface. Harry had to de-branch the pixey wings three different times before he got it right, not to mention the coiled dragon horn.

The only thing he didn't botch the first time was the precise nature of split second stirs. He couldn't afford to mess that up, and Severus paid special attention to make sure he didn't. His voice lost some of the sharpness and he wasn't as quick to snap. Twenty-Three and two sixth quarter clockwise turns while adding ground mandrake bones, one half turn to the right and two full turns to the left. Five counterclockwise stirs while the threads from the Veil soaked in vampire blood.

It all started to blend together, the diligent work and constant focus, Snape's drawing voice guiding him along. Harry suddenly found himself extremely grateful for the Potion Master's help. Harry had no doubt that any other would have made a mistake, a miscalculation, but not Severus Snape. There was a reason the man was apart of Voldemort's Inner Circle, even before the Dark Lord's first fall.

As the final stretch approached, Harry stood close to the couldron while Snape watched the shades lighten every few seconds, "You'll have about forty-five seconds until the potion turns opalescent."

Harry closed his eyes and slid easily in to his mind palace. As always he appeared within the Great Hall, but this time he didn't linger to observe his creations. The dark haired wizard sprinted through the castle's walls at top speed, grateful that the moving staircases were working in his favor. His sneakers barely made contact with the floor as he skidded into the girls bathroom. A quickly hissed 'open' had the Chamber opening and Harry jumped down the chute, his eyes following the twisting stone slide before he caught sight of the final curve. He landed at a run and raced towards the secondary door.

Harry's chest heaved with excursion as he breathlessly asked the second door to open in parseltongue. Precious seconds ticked by as the stone snakes slithered open, but the moment it opened, Harry was running again, desperately trying to avoid slipping on the slick stones.

"Akasha! Akasha, let him out!"

The giant snake burst from Slytherin's mouth and dropped into the water with the loud hiss.

Harry inhaled deeply and thought only of the Potions room, searching for the bitter scent of moonstones and the dazzling aroma of unicorn hair. He quickly slid into his own body and looked to Severus who immediately nodded, waving a frantic hand.

Nimble fingers gripped the silver blade and Harry dragged it across his wrist, watching the line of ruby bloom against his paled skin before plunging his hand in the silvery substance.

Liquid fire clawed up his arm and Harry couldn't help but to scream. Merciless pain burned through his veins, climbing through his body and circling his heart, blazing within the pit of the beating organ. Panic gripped his throat, making him unable to breathe as he felt something pulling and jerking at his magical core.

The pain of the potion drawing itself up into his veins was nothing compared to the agony of Voldemort's Horcrux ripping itself from him. His magic lashed out within him, desperately fighting the intrusion but it'd already begun. Tears poured down his face as he felt the first rip. Harry could physically feel it when the soul shard started to pull itself free, ripping itself from the central core.

The moment it finally released, Harry sagged against the edge of the couldron in relief, giving it a few more seconds before he pulled his hand out and collapsed on the stone floor. The green eyed wizard's breast heaved with ragged and labored breaths as he gulped down oxygen.

Normally hard Onyx eyes watched him with concern and he gave Severus a shaky thumbs up.

"You stupid boy. How I could've ever thought that this was a good idea is so far beyond me that -"

The ghost's rant was cut off as the whispy liquid turned a bright molten gold faster than predicted, and the Potion Master's eyed widened, "The pheonix tears, Potter, the tears!"

Harry scrambled from the floor and made a hasty grab for the dropper, eyes going wide as his clumsy fingers pushed it right off the table, "No!"

The teen dove for it, eyes wide with fear as it fumbled between his fingers, bouncing within his grip before his body met the stone floor. He held the glass dabber up victoriously before jumping to his feet and dripping it quickly into the potion.

"Potter, you idiot! You utter moron! Do you realize how close you came to ruining all our hard work?!"

Harry ignored the elder's words and stirred the liquid counterclockwise until it turned solid black.

His eyes were wide with anticipation as he stepped back and held the Dark Lord's robes. Though he didn't express it, the younger wizard was positive that Snape sat poised on the very same edge of excitement.

The bubbles stopped and the surface went flat, a small dot in the center morphing into a mirrored image that steadily began to eat away the black, vivid flashes of Tom Riddle's life flashing across it. Life at the orphanage, each of his years at Hogwarts, his rule over the Dark.

It raced by, growing ever faster before a glimpse of the final battle darted across the surface before it disappeared, going completely white.

Harry looked to Severus and he nodded just seconds before a figure began to rise from the couldron.

The colorless liquid rapidly soaked into his skin, leaving him white as marble until all of it was gone. Still lids suddenly darted open, revealing glowing maroon irises and he gasped loudly, color flooding his body, staining his cheeks and lips before dark drown seemed to drip down the strands of his hair.

The couldron melted at his feet, leaving the man naked and shaking from the sudden rush of freedom.

Harry stood slowly and approached, wrapping the midnight robes round his tall frame. The man didn't look at him, or anything else in the room. His eyes stared blankly in to space and Harry led him from the room with a gentle hand, guiding him to the fireplace where they flooed to Grimmauld Place.

The dark haired wizard took Voldemort to the room he'd prepared and he laid the elder on the soft bed.

For two days and three nights, Tom slept, neither moving nor waking, and for two days and three nights, Harry sat by the man's bedside, holding the thin stick of Yew in his palm as he waited for the darkest wizard in British history to wake from his slumber.

Harry woke from his uncomfortable position in the chair to the feeling of someone watching him. Green eyes snapped open, only to be met with intense red ones.

It was so much different than before, and Harry could feel his mouth going dry as he stared back at the Dark Lord. His recreation within the Chamber of Secrets and the blank male who emerged from the couldron paled in comparison. The man's intimidating aura permeated every inch of the room, and the dark, knowing intelligence behind those maroon orbs made shivers run down the ravenette's spine. The green eyed wizard could feel the power rolling from the elder's form, and the way his gaze sought out every part of Harry's face made him feel vulnerable and exposed.

Without a word, Harry stood and made his way to the side of the bed, standing before the most powerful wizard in the world, dropping to his knees in front of the wizards dark robes. The rush of victory coursed through his veins. Without even having the man speak, Harry knew that he'd succeeded in bringing Lord Voldemort back from the grave, with all the wit, power and sharp cunning that he'd ever possessed.

Tom studied him for a moment, "Why do you kneel?"

Harry raised his head in confusion and looked to the older wizard in question, but the other man just looked down at him expectantly. It took him a moment, but Harry finally stood. Even as a mortal, the Dark wizard stood a full head taller than him, and he was being generous in the estimate.

Voldemort looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on the thin stick of yew in the teen's hand, "Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived."

"Twice."

Harry bit the inside of his lip as the cheeky reply slid out on accident, but rather than snap at him for the disrespect, the Dark Lord smiled knowingly, "Twice."

The younger wizard wanted to gape at the small smile, and the teasing way the elder repeated him, but the shock wouldn't allow him.

"I'm assuming, Potter -."

"It's Harry. Just Harry."

A twinge of irritation grazed Tom's features and the younger wizard looked down at the carpet, suddenly extremely interested in the dull grey fibers. He knew he should've acted more respectful, but the wizard wanted them to be friends, and if he was bold enough, more than friends. He didn't want to be Potter, he wanted to be Harry. Not Harry Potter, or James Potter's son, or The-Boy-Who-Lived. Just Harry.

"Well, Just Harry, I'm sure that we have much to discuss." Dark eyes laid heavy on the supposed Golden Boy, "Much."

Pale cheeks flushed with color as he felt the Dark Lord's gaze before the man spoke again, holding out his hand, "If you would be so kind as to give me my wand."

There was no mistaking the threat below his words. They both knew that if the elder wanted his wand, and Harry refused, the Dark Lord would win, even without the aid of his faithful pheonix feather wand. The pleasantries were merely spoken out of courtesy, but Harry would never have dared to deny him the wand.

Avada Kadavra eyes glided over the bone white stick of Yew once more before he handed it over to the Dark Lord, watching the flush of bliss that caressed high cheekbones as Voldemort's slender fingers wrapped around the familiar length of wood.

"Now, Harry. Look at me."

Harry knew what the man was politely demanding, and though the green eyed wizard's first instinct was to let his Occlumency shields envelope his conscious, he forced the walls down and looked up into the glowing red eyes of his former enemy.

"Legilimens!"

Familiarity ripped through his psyche and Harry gasped at the intimate intrusion. The dark haired wizard tried to bring up all the memories he could of the current Ministry of Magic, along with the truth of his resurrection, but Voldemort seemed to have no interest in that.

Strong fingers wrapped around the thick column of Harry's throat and he gasped as the older wizard shoved him back against the wall, closing the distance between them as merciless eyes bored down into startled green ones.

Flashes of Hogwarts danced in front of Harry's eyes and he whimpered softly as he watched Tom walk through his memory palace. His strides were confident and purposeful, side-stepping any and all defense mechanisms with frightening accuracy, despite the fact that the younger wizard had lowered his mental wards.

A jolt of anxiety echoed through the green eyed male's thoughts as he saw the subtle power play for what it was, however that anxiety doubled when he found himself right alongside Tom, standing before the blank wall that housed the Room of Requirement.

Harry parted his lips to ask the man what he wanted to see, but the words died on his tongue as he caught sight of the gold swirled door with the black Thhandles.

Panic shot through him like a bullet and the younger man struggled against the hold Voldemort had on his throat, "Stop! Tom, stop! Please!"

The Dark Lord glided his thumb up and down the teen's jugular, squeezing slightly, "Now, Now Harry. There's no need to struggle. You offered me access to your thoughts, did you not?"

Harry didn't have a chance to answer before Voldemort pulled both doors open and a wave of images played before both their eyes.

Strong fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs as the Tom drove his hips forward, pumping the entire length of his cock into the willing body below him, a thin sheen of sweat covering the green eyed wizard's skin as he begged for more, writhing in pleasure.

A glimpse of himself as he strattled the Dark Lord, bouncing in his lap, riding him mercilessly as he threw a Crucio over the elder's shoulder at Bellatrix.

Countless fantasies of himself kneeling before the Heir of Slytherin, his lips dark and swollen from sucking the man's cock.

Horror consumed the Boy-Who-Lived as the images kept coming, each more detailed than the last, but his heart seemed to fall from his chest as his most hidden fantasy came to the surface.

He laid flush against the mattress, the cool silk ropes gliding over the sensitive flesh of his wrists as he struggled. The black silk sheets brushed and glided across his pebbled nipples, making the youth groan. A scatter of goosebumps grazed his flesh at the first touch of the Dark Lord's fingers against the side of his spine.

Harry couldn't stop himself from hardening, to his eternal shame, as he watched the fantasy Voldemort spread his cheeks and swirl his hot tongue against Harry's sensitive little rosebud.

Voldemort jerked them both in to the present, the front of his body pressed tightly against Harry's, holding him to the wall. The hot breath against the side of his neck made the teen whimper and a blush scalded his cheek as the Dark Lord slid one of his thighs between both of the younger man's.

"Did you really think that pool prison would keep these from me?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but his words were replaced with an aroused grunt as Tom gave his throat a small squeeze, "I was there. Forced to watch them as they were created."

Voldemort ground his hips against Harry's, his cock twitching as he captured the teen's soft cry for his own. The sense of power he felt only made his lust rage harder. Having The-Boy-Who-Lived pinned against him, moaning like a wanton whore. It was almost to much for the Dark Lord to bare. Almost.

It didn't help that he had his fingers around the boy's neck, and all the teen could do was grind against him. Those fantasies had been torture. He'd watched them all, over and over, desperately aroused by the green eyed wizard's passionate desire but unable to do anything about it.

The Dark wizard sucked teasingly on Harry's earlobe before sliding his free hand down, cupping the teen's groin in his palm, "Tell me what you want, Harry."

The Dark Lord lifted his head and his breath hitched as he gazed at the shorter man. Avada Kadavra eyes were glassed over with lust, practically glowing with need. A flush of ruby colored his cheeks and Tom could see the teen's lower lip tremble.

"Please."

A coy smile curved the elder's lips and he dipped his head, running his hot tongue up Harry's neck, "At a loss for words, Harry? You'll have to do better than that."

Harry looked up at the Dark Lord and he was surprised to see his own lust mirrored in those crimson eyes. He didn't know why he fought, this was what he'd wanted all along. Under all the excuses about the Wizarding World and his respect, this was the true reason he brought Voldemort back from the grave. Because he craved this, needed it, and he was willing to risk the entire world for it.

"Kiss me. Please, Tom. Kiss me."

The Dark Lord was more than willing to oblige, smoothly dipping his head and capturing the younger wizard's lips for his own. They were softer than he expected, and Harry let out a startled moan as the elder glided his tongue across the teen's lower lip, silently asking for permission.

Internally, the green eyed wizard was surprised that the man sought his permission at all. With the way the dark wizard held him and the force behind his passion, thoughtfulness was the one thing Harry didn't expect, and in that moment, The-Boy-Who-Lived knew he'd let Tom do anything he wanted.

Darkened lips parted immediately and Voldemort wasted no time slipping his tongue into the willing mouth of his soon to be lover. Experience guided the Dark Lord's movements as he caressed Harry's tongue with his own, deepening the kiss significantly. The rough fingers around his throat loosened and the Dark Lord cupped the younger wizard's face, his fingers laying against the back of the teen's neck, his palm cradling the other's jaw.

Passions rose quickly and the teen couldn't get enough, he desperately needed more. Heat pooled in the wizard's stomach and he gathered his Gryffindor courage before pushing the heavy robes from his companion's shoulders.

They fell behind the Dark Lord with a barely audible sound as the heavy material hit the plush carpet. His mouth went dry as his gaze raked up and down the dominant male. Wide expanses of pale flesh stood stark against his own pitch black robes and Harry couldn't find words for the beauty that met his eyes.

The Dark wizard's stomach was flat, showing just the briefest hints of muscle but the teen was more than positive that he stood firm. A light dust of brown hair sat on his chest and along his arms, accenting his milky complexion. A course swirl of hair circled the elder's belly button before dropping down toward his groin. Glassy green eyes roamed upwards, taking in the well defined collarbones and the graceful curve of his throat. The Dark haired man had a strong jaw and as Harry looked up at him through Dark lashes, he couldn't stop himself from comparing Tom to a king. His strong features screamed royalty and when combined with the commanding presence of those deep red eyes, his authority spoke volumes. All of this was topped off with the luscious dark brown hair that framed the powerful wizard's elegant face.

Voldemort stared down at the boy, soaking up all of his attention like a lazy cat. The younger wizard's Avada Kadavra eyes glowed with lust and the Dark Lord couldn't stop the possessive growl that echoed from his throat before he captured Harry's lips in a demanding kiss.

Heat blossomed across the green eyed male's cheeks but he responded with equal enthusiasm, their mouths turning frantic as Harry slid his fingers into the Dark Lord's hair, gripping the silky strands.

Soon, Tom was no longer content with his lover's mouth. He longed to taste the boy's skin, to make him writhe and gasp just as he had within the younger's fantasies. Warm lips glided down the younger man's cheek, nipping at his jaw before meeting the sensitive flesh of Harry's neck. Voldemort laid open mouthed kisses up and down the teen's jugular before latching onto the steady pulse and sucking deeply.

The ravenette gasped sharply at the intense heat that teased his throat, and he couldn't stop the submissive whimper that escaped his lips as the Dark Lord marked him as his own. The thought of knowing that the darkest Lord of their era was publicly marking him for all to see made arousal pool in his groin.

Tom could feel his companion's arousal against his thigh as the teen helplessly rutted against him. The powerlessness of the other male made the Dark Lord groan and he rocked his hips against Harry's, earning a pleasured gasp.

The fabric of his shirt and trousers made Harry want to cry. The weight of Tom's body made gave him the most delicious friction, especially when the elder moved against him, but Harry desperately wanted to feel Tom's naked body against his own. He longed for the exquisite feeling of flesh meeting flesh.

The Dark Lord must have felt similar because his experienced fingers were soon shoving the robe from Harry's shoulders and ripping the wrinkled white shirt from the teen's frame, paying no mind to the scatter of buttons that littered the floor. Harry dropped his wand in surprise and Voldemort soon relinquished his own as well in favor of exploring the boy.

Eager fingers grabbed the back of the green eyed wizard's neck and pulled him close, a groan escaping from both of them as their torsos met. Harry slid his arms up under Voldemort's, running his palms up and down the flawless skin of his lover's back as the Dark wizard's lips started moving down towards his chest.

Harry's skin was intoxicating beneath the Dark wizard's mouth. He smelled faintly of Quidditch leathers and potion herbs with an underlying hint of cinnamon. It made the elder's mouth water as he nipped and sucked along the teen's collarbone, before he pulled away.

Harry let out an unhappy whimper as the weight holding him to the wall disappeared. The flush of cool air left a scatter of goosebumps across his lightly tanned skin and he looked up at Voldemort, his dominant gaze roamed hungrily up and down the trembling teen and the sheer intensity of that gaze made Harry shiver.

It'd been a long time since Tom felt lust this demanding. Sure, he'd engaged in the pleasures of the flesh whenever it suited him, but never like this. Even after his resurrection, witches and wizards had begged on more than one occasion to share his bed, but they meant nothing to him. They were nameless, faceless. They held no sway in his life, but this was Harry Potter.

Potter, who had been prophosised to kill him. Potter who had destroyed his mortal body that one fateful Hallows Eve. Potter who had bested him year after year, stood proudly against him time after time without fail. Potter, who had never said no to what was expected of him, who'd tracked down his Horcruxes one by one, destroying them. Potter who ultimately ended his life in the Battle of Hogwarts, and in the end, Potter who had resurrected him for the second time.

Nobody held more sway in his life than Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Twice. And as the Dark Lord stared at the aroused flush of the boy's face, the way his eyes sat half kidded, glassy with lust, his plump lips dark and swollen from the intensity of their kisses, Thomas Riddle couldn't contain his desire to possess the teen in all ways.

Harry had once been his to hurt, his to kill, but now, all the Dark Lord could think of was turning the younger man into a quivering mess. He wanted to watch Harry writhe and beg for his touch. The thought of the boy willingly crying out for him, cumming for him, left the elder breathless.

Voldemort was not a man who cared for the pleasure of others. He was a skillful lover that enjoyed the control he got from watching the powerless nature of victims. But now, here with the savior of the Wizarding World, the Dark Lord wanted nothing more than to torture the dark haired teen in the sweetest of ways. He wanted to drive the wizard to the brink, to hold him there and listen as his voice crack with need.

Harry waited with breathless anticipation as the dark haired male looked him up and down, the thick arousal against his stomach throbbing with desire behind his trousers. Harry wanted that sinful mouth back on his skin, wanted to feel the flush of Tom's body as he dominated him, as he kissed and sucked and fucked his body into utter submission.

"Tom, please."

Maroon eyes darkened and before Harry could form a coherent thought, Voldemort had already spun him from the wall and pushed him back onto the bed. The cool feeling of black silk caressing his exposed flesh made the younger wizard tremble, but as his eyes sought out the Dark Lord, his breath caught in his throat. The elder stood at the end of the bed, predatorily eyeing up his body. The lustful stare that raked up and down the teen made him whimper and Voldemort gave a victorious smirk as he crawled up the boy's body, kissing a path up his quivering stomach before swirling a skilled tongue around one of the hardened nubs.

Harry's pleased gasp met Tom's ears but he paid him no mind, wrapping his lips around the darkened peak, sucking sharply, growling possesively as he felt Harry arch up under his mouth. Soft moans and the rustle of sheets filled the quiet room as Tom began sucking intently, making the boy squirm before biting him sharply around the edge of the areola.

Harry cried out, feeling the Dark wizard bite the sensitized peak, his cock jumping in his pants as the elder released it and blew a cool stream of air over his darkened nipple. Suddenly it all became to much and he needed more.

"Merlin, Tom! Fuck, please! I need it, just please."

The teen was almost sobbing with the power of his desire and as Voldemort looked up into the face of his lover, he groaned at the mess Harry had become. His pupils were blown wide, but the faint ring of green glowed brightly, and Tom could feel the younger wizard's magic pulsing through the room. His chest heaved with ragged breaths and Tom couldn't resist the temptation to watch his green eyed lover as he kissed back down him stomach.

Voldemort could feel the ripple of jumpy muscles below his mouth as he nearest waistband of the younger wizard's trousers and he looked up to see Harry biting his lip. It was adorable in the most sexy way. Tom nipped at the firm tan skin just below Harry's belly button and he growled in approval at the small cry he pulled from the teen.

"Tell me Harry. What do you want me to do? I don't know if you don't tell me."

A beautiful mixed flush of embarrassment and arousal stained the ravenette's cheeks and he parted his lips to speak, only to have the breath stolen from his throat as Tom ran his tongue all the way across his stomach right above his trousers.

Harry couldn't think. His whole body was on fire and all he could think of was the throbbing sensation in his pants and the heat of Tom's mouth against his skin. Merlin, how he wanted the elder to go down on him. The Dark wizard was so close, and Harry couldn't seem to keep his thoughts.

Tom dipped his head and nipped the skin in warning, "Now, now, Harry. Tell me, or I'll stop."

Panic fluttered through the teen's stomach at the mention of the Dark Lord stopping and as his swollen lips parted, he couldn't stop the flow of words that left him.

"Fuck, Tom. Please suck it, I want your mouth on me so bad. I can't breathe, I can't think. All I can concentrate on is how badly I want your mouth wrapped around my cock!"

A flash of lust darkened the elder's eyes and he wasted no time with Harry's trousers, choosing instead to vanish them with a whispered word. The Slytherin Heir took in the full sight of his naked lover, running his palms up and down Harry's quivering sides as he stared.

His cock was thick and full, no more than seven inches long, but it sat proudly against the other wizard's stomach. The tip was dark and weeping with desire.

"So hard."

Voldemort ran a finger up the thick vein along the bottom of Harry's cock, and the dark hairs teen sucked in a sharp breath.

"Merlin, and so responsive."

Experienced fingers wrapped around the green eyed wizard's cock and slowly began pumping the length of his shaft, making the teen moan, bucking his hips at the contact. Tom gripped one of the boy's hips with his free hand and pushed him back down to the bed, effectively holding him still.

"None of that, Potter."

The teen's cock twitched in Tom's grasp at the use of the wizard's surname and Voldemort smirked before lowering his head and pressing open mouthed kisses up and down the length of Harry's cock. His own arousal grew with each and every moan he pulled from the teen; every gasp of pleasure and whimper for more.

He could finally take no more and Tom wrapped two fingers around the base of Harry's length before sliding the tip into his mouth.

White hot bliss screamed across the Chosen One's nerves as that velvety wet heat enveloped his cock. Harry wanted so badly to buck up into the other man's mouth, to fuck that delicious heat until he came down the Dark Lord's throat, but he knew that Voldemort would never allow such a thing. Harry could barely breathe as Tom swirled his tongue around the head of his member, flicking his tongue at the weeping slit of his cock.

Blood red eyes darted up to his lover's face and when he saw the absolute bliss there, he couldn't help but to take mercy on the boy. Thomas slowly started to bob his head in Harry's lap, taking in more and more of his cock with each well timed suck.

By the time the tip of the younger wizard's cock brushed the entrance of his throat, Harry was a whimpering, begging mess. His chest heaved as he tried to breath, the arousal and his exertion making his skin glisten with sweat. Tom squeezed the fingers around the base of the dark haired male's cock in warning before letting go and inhaling slowly and taking the younger man's cock into her throat.

Harry tried as hard as he could, but he knew the attempt was worthless. His muscles clenched, fighting to keep his orgasm at bay, but as he watched the most powerful wizard in the world swallow his cock, he came undone.

Thomas Riddle never imagined how beautiful Harry would be as he reached for the very peak of his climax. He'd never thought of how the teen's lips parted in a silent plea, or how his lower lip trembled. He couldn't have imagined how blown those pupils could get as the ultimate pleasure began racing through his former enemy, how his magic would spike and spark and ignite the very air with crackles of magical energy.

Harry's muscles went taunt as a guitar string before snapping when Tom pushed him over the edge. The wizard felt his balls tighten before the tense heat in his abdomen finally released and he screamed his lover's name in the throws of pure bliss. Spurt after spurt came pouring from the tip of his cock, and Harry swore he could've died happy was he watched the Dark Lord swallow all of it before releasing him.

His thoughts ceased to exist and the once light wizard hardly noticed as Voldemort flipped him on to his stomach and began kissing his way up Harry's spine. His skin tingled all over and he moaned in appreciation as the Dark wizard nipped the back of his shoulders.

A shiver ran through the green eyed teen as the heat of his lover's breath caressed the shell of his ear, and his hypersensitive cock twitched with interest.

"I promise, Harry. You have my word that I'll spread you wide and force my tongue inside of you until you scream for mercy, but right now I can't wait. I need to be inside of you."

To emphasize his point, Voldemort thrust his hips against Harry's, the thick column of his cock sliding easily between the teen's cheeks, his throbbing shaft gliding over the puckered rosebud.

A strangled cry pulled from Harry's throat and he shoved his hips back, shivering as he heard the Dark Lord's groan, "That's right."

Tom grabbed the boy and forced his hips up in the air, spreading his legs wide. He growled in approval as the Savior was spread wide, his tight puckered hole on display for the Dark Lord, his thick cock swinging between the teen's legs as the elder ran a palm down Harry's back, silently soothing him.

A whispered lubrication spell left Tom's fingers slick and he rubbed one of his fingertips against the wizard's clenching opening, pulling a soft mewl of pleasure from the boy.

"Beg me, Harry. Tell me how much you want me to put something inside of you."

Tom applied a little bit of pressure to encourage him, but not nearly enough to penetrate his tight anal ring. Harry's cock was fully awake by now and he was almost as aroused as before. He longed to feel the elder inside of him and he was more than willing to beg.

"Tom!" The green eyed wizard squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his cheek against the cool sheets, his voice cracking with choked arousal, "Put it inside of me! Fuck, I want it. Fuck me, Tom. Give me your cock!"

Voldemort growled and smoothly slid one of his fingers inside the teen, pumping the thin digit in and out of his lover. He felt the ring of muscle quiver around his fingers as he slid a second inside the boy, pausing to let him get used to it.

Harry squirmed, but for the most part, he didn't protest. Tom quickly began to scissor his fingers back and forth, opening the boy to him while also focusing intently on his lover's reactions.

It didn't take him long to find that magical bundle of nerves. Harry cried out in surprise and bucked his hips back towards Tom, begging for more as the patient elder continued to prepare him, easily adding a third finger to the slowly stretched opening. Harry groaned in discomfort, but Voldemort easily found his spot and caressed it every few strokes, effectively distracting the young wizard.

Harry couldn't take anymore. He needed Tom, and he needed him now, "Fuck it, I'm ready, Tom. Please, give it to me. Fuck me into the mattress! Make me yours."

Maroon eyes darkened as he urged the boy back, quickly slicking his cock with lubricant before positioning himself at the teen's opening. He watched the dark haired male tremble with anticipation. Strong fingers gripped the younger wizard's hips thrust forward, burying himself to the base within the-boy-who-lived.

Tight heat clenched around his aching shaft and it took every ounce of willpower to ignore his desire to brutally fuck the boy without waiting. Harry gasped and gripped the sheets as he was suddenly filled. His mouth went dry and he could feel the Dark Lord's cock twitch within his channel.

Heat flooded his face and he moaned his lover's name, "Merlin, move Tom. Fuck me. Fuck me hard."

The Dark Lord needed no further invitation. He dug his fingers sharply into the teen's flesh as he pulled his hips back and thrust them forward, immediately setting a quick pace. He glanced down and groaned as he watched his cock slide in and out of the Light's former Golden Boy.

Harry gasped and moaned shamelessly, rocking his hips forcefully back to meet each and every one of the Dark wizard's thrusts, grunting as their hips met. Voldemort alternated between fast, fleeting pumps and deep, brutal thrusts that made Harry cry out with bliss, the power behind them pushing the teen towards the headboard.

Harry gripped the wood in a death grip as Thomas leaned over his back, biting his shoulder deeply as he slammed is hips forward, pounding the teen just as he'd asked but the Dark Lord knew neither were going to be able to last much longer. It was all to much. The way Harry moaned and cried beneath him as he fucked him into oblivion. The way his tight hole clenched round him, driving him mad.

Merciless fingers wrapped around the front of Harry's throat and pulled him flush against Voldemort's chest. With the new angle, Tom's cock grazed his prostate with each pump, making the teen gasp for breath. The merciless nature of his thrusts never hesitated and he smirked as he felt Harry coming apart one thread at a time against him.

A quick tongue darted out to trace the shell of the wizard's ear and Voldemort nipped the lobe as he gave a particularly brutal thrust, relishing in the cry of pleasure that came from his lover.

"How does it feel, Potter? To be fucked by a killer."

The Dark Lord doubled his speed and pounded Harry without restraint, squeezing the teen's throat as his free hand wrapped around the boy's length, pumping him mercilessly in his fist.

Harry could feel himself losing it. He couldn't keep himself under control as Tom spoke to him in such a way, as he fucked him into submission. The way the Dark Lord held him, the absolute power had as the elder pumped his cock. Not to mention the extravagant burst of pleasure that made him want to scream each time Tom brushed that spot inside of him.

Harry threw his head back against Tom's shoulder and cried out with need, "Please! Please let me cum, Merlin Tom. Please make me cum, please give it to me. Please, please."

Hearing the boy beg was more than he could handle. Voldemort relinquished all control and let his raging lust take over. His thrusts became erratic and frenzied as he raced towards his own end.

"Cum, Harry."

The seductive hiss of parseltongue immediately drove him over the edge. The way Tom sounded when he spoke the language of serpents made something break in him and Harry screamed his lover's name as the pearly essence shot from his cock, dripping down Tom's fingers and down his own stomach. Waves of pleasure caressed his senses as the Dark wizard released his cock and focused solely on his own pleasure.

Tom dropped his head inbetween Harry's shoulder blades, driving his cock in deep as the teen road out his fierce orgasm. The spamming clench of muscles proved to be to much, and Tom heard himself call out to Harry as he slammed himself in as deeply as possible, releasing within his lover.

Both wizards panted raggedly, collapsing on the bed together, still joined. Harry snuggled back against the elder and Voldemort wrapped a possessive arm around the dazed teen.

"That was incredible."

Tom's smirk glowed with arrogance and he pressed a kiss to the back of Harry's neck before pulling him closer, "I know."

Tom was the first to wake, pale lids rising above sleep glazed maroon eyes. For a moment, the elder wizard couldn't seem to recall where he was, but as he felt the rhythmic breathing of his sleeping lover, the previous night came back to him in a flash.

Darkened eyes swept down over the boy and he was pleased to see the marks of his claim all across Harry's throat. With some careful maneuvering, Tom managed to slide from bed without waking the sleeping male, watching with amusement as the wizard gripped the Dark Lord's pillow in a fierce cuddle. It was not the norm for the darkest wizard of the century to claim his lover as cute, but there was no other way to put it.

Wild locks of hair sat against the pale sheets like a dark halo, the teen's bangs finally able to cover the famous lightning bolt. Pale lips were parted just the slightest bit and as the elder wizard dragged his eyes down the length of Harry's smooth, tan back, he could feel his member beginning to stir. He'd grown into a beautiful young man, and Voldemort, with a smile, thought of his own days of beauty.

A beauty that Harry had returned to him, along with a powerful new body.

The Dark Lord moved gracefully across the room and retrieved his faithful yew wand, running his fingertips up and down the length of the wood. It was precious, his wand. Despite now knowing that the Elder Wand was never meant to be his, it'd never sat right in his palm. The cursed stick of Elder rubbed his magic the wrong way and though the boost in power was immediately recognizable, the downside was also visible. It proved difficult to control the flow of energy, and he had to focus entirely to hard on his magic.

How could he have ever thought that the cursed wand was better than the Pheonix feather wand he'd received from Ollivander's when he turned eleven all that time ago? The wand had chosen him, bonded to him.

Tom thought back to the previous evening and recalled the burst of memory at the reunion. It'd been intense. In that one moment of contact, he could feel every spell he'd ever cast with his ever faithful companion. He remembered the spark of connection within the wandmaker's shop, and the tedious work of Hogwarts. The first flush of darkness as he explored the Restricted Section of the library late at night, the rush as he traveled across the world, searching the globe for things long forgotten. Every Lumos, Every Crucio. All brought to the surface in that split second.

A soft moan brought the Dark Lord away from his thoughts and he turned to the bed, taking in the sight of his lover. The dark haired wizard rutted slightly against the sheets and Tom didn't have to be a magical prodigy to know that the teen was already aroused.

A mischievous smirk dominated his features as the Dark wizard made his way to Harry's bedside, pulling the flimsy sheet from his body in one quick move. A scatter of goosebumps peppered the younger's skin as a flush of cool air met his warmed flesh. The sleeping teen moaned softly and Tom couldn't help but to take advantage.

With the simplest manipulation, Voldemort positioned the boy on his stomach and with well paced movements, began crawling up the green eyed wizard's body. The Dark Lord laid a kiss on the inside of Harry's thigh before two strong hands slid easily up the teen's sides. Tom dipped his head smoothly and nipped the small of his lover's back before running his tongue up the younger man's spine, ending with a warm kiss to the side of his neck.

Harry murmured in his sleep and a content sigh pulled from his lips as Tom slid one of his hands into the tangled mess of raven hair, tugging gently as he nipped Harry's earlobe.

"Do you remember my promise, Harry?"

A wicked tongue traced the outside of the wizard's ear before moving back down, sucking and nipping a path down his companion's spine. A flush of dominant pride ghosted across the Dark Lord's conscious as he watched the faint bruises begin to appear above each of the teen's vertebrate.

As Voldemort reached the dip of Harry's back, the boy started to squirm, grinding his throbbing shaft into the silk sheets, and he couldn't help the rush of arousal that went straight to his cock. Confident hands parted the faintly tanned globes and Tom dipped his head, blowing a breath of hot air against his lover's hole.

A mewl of pleasure pulled from the teen's lips before he whispered the Dark Lord's name softly.

The dark wizard froze for a brief second before a possessive growl ripped from his throat. Harry was unconsciously whimpering his name, rubbing himself against the sheets while he fantasized about Voldemort within his dreams.

The elder growled and spread the boy wide open before leaning forward, circling his tongue steadily around the edges of the lover's puckered entrance. A sharp intake of breath met his ears and the Dark wizard pressed his luck, pointing his tongue and applying a fair amount of pressure, threatening to breech the teen's entrance.

Hot waves of pleasure slowly brought Harry from the land of sleep. Just behind his eyelids, the teen dreamt of his Dark Lord, pleasuring him, teasing him, licking him, but as the sensations continued to become more and more real, the-boy-who-lived could no longer ignore it. He moaned aloud as his bright green eyes flew open, and as he gazed back at his lover, Avada Kadavra green met the intense glow of lustful maroon.

The moment their eyes met, Tom forced his tongue as deeply into the channel as he could get. Tight muscles flexed around the wizard's tongue at the same time as Harry released a startled cry of bliss.

Tom grabbed the teen's hips, noting with pleasure that finger sized bruises lingered on his lover's hip bones as he maneuvered his hips up slightly. Harry obediently followed and was immediately rewarded by the elder wizard darting his nimble tongue in and out of his ass. The green eyed male moaned to his heart's content, biting his lip harshly as the arousal of the entire situation flooded his body.

The Dark Lord reamed his tongue around his lover's hole, skilled fingers wrapping smoothly around the boy's morning arousal. As he did so, Harry's pupils blew wide with lust, his hips bucking towards the delicious friction Voldemort's hand provided and he cried out in satisfaction.

The elder thrust his tongue in and out of the still tight channel with lazy strokes that almost matched the steady pumps of his hand. Voldemort enjoyed the way Harry squirmed for him but as their eyes met, Tom watched a wave of lust flood the teen's face. His eyes immediately glassed over, and the Dark wizard felt his lover's cock harden even more in his grasp.

It was in this moment, that the elder stilled his palm, listening to the whine of disappointment as Harry bucked his hips forward, seeking the return of those torturous strokes. The wizard pulled his tongue free and nipped one of the smooth globes, smirking at the faint yelp.

"Tell me, Harry, if I allowed you to fuck my fist, would you be grateful?" Voldemort dragged his tongue over the clenching ring of muscle, "Hmm?"

The teen bucked forward and let out a needy moan, "Merlin, yes, Tom."

Thomas began wholeheartedly rimming the teen in responce, taking the wizard by surprise. The younger realized his lover's approval and began erratically pumping his hips, driving his cock into the Dark Lord's hand.

Despite knowing he was already close, Harry couldn't resist the urge to cast another look over his shoulder as his lover tongued him. His cheeks flushed at the sight, and he couldn't help but to let his lids droop, heavy with arousal.

Harry thought of the many things that wicked tongue had done. He thought of every death it'd ever ordered, the incredible magic it had given birth to. He thought of the skill it took to command the forces of the Dark, and the torture of discipline. Shivers raced down his spine, and Harry could no longer contain himself as he watched the darkest wizard alive pleasure him in a way that he'd only dreamed.

Without warning, the green eyed male gripped the sheets in a death hold and cried out for his lover upon release, thick ropes of cum staining the sheets. The tight ring of muscle squeezed the Dark Lord's tongue as he continued to lap at the boy's hole while he orgasmed.

Voldemort muttered a quick cleaning spell as his lover relaxed into the sheets, his features relaxed in the afterglow of bliss.

The Dark wizard slowly pulled his tongue free and pressed a kiss to the bottom of Harry's back, "Good morning."

Harry sighed with content satisfaction and snuggled deeper into the sheets, once again hugging a pillow to his chest, "A great morning, actually."

A chuckle met his ear as the Dark Lord pressed a lingering kiss between his shoulder blades before Transfiguring the sheet into a dark green duvet, pulling it up around the already dozing teen.

"Indeed it is."

It took exactly three days for the Unspeakables to notice the theft of the Time Spheres. During that time, the darkest wizard alive and the savior of the Wizarding World could barely find the time to breathe, let alone pay attention to the outside world.

Their every waking moment was spent exploring each others bodies, their passions and the new heights they could drive their lover's to. It began in the shower and followed to the kitchen and then to the living room. It quickly became impossible to do anything without arousing one of the two males and completely innocent situations soon morphed to something else.

It didn't take long for both Harry and the Dark Lord to become intimately acquainted within each and every room of Grimmauld Place.

However, on that third day, an unexpected guest ripped them both from the utter bliss they'd been living in for the last three days.

In a rush of green flame, the Malfoy heir came stomping through the floo, looking as regal and noble as ever, "Potter! I know it was you! This little escapade reeks of you! What in the world were -."

The blonde wizard was left gaping as Harry squeaked in surprise, falling from atop his lover and scrambling for some sort of clothes. The Dark Lord glared at the young blonde wizard and stood in all his naked glory, conjuring robes for himself, as well as his startled companion.

"Draco! What the bloody hell are you doing here?!"

Grey eyes were wide with alarm darted between the two males before he hissed in pain, grabbing at his left forearm.

"Is this how you greet your Lord, Draco?"

The youngest Malfoy stared in wonder at the resurrected Dark Lord, taking in his utter beauty as well as the fact that he was shagging the-boy-who-lived before his senses finally caught up to him. Malfoy immediately kneeled in front of the Dark wizard, his head bowed in utter submission.

"Forgive me, my Lord. I did not know of your return, or that I would find you here and disrespect you in such a way."

Harry snorted in amusement and ignored the enduring glare from his lover, "Get up, Draco. He won't do anything to you."

The blonde was cautious. He glanced up, noticing the way the Dark Lord stared at Potter with irritation clearly stamped on his features, but the chilled look seemed to bounce right off the green eyed wizard. Draco stood and turned to Harry, adjusting his robes and applying the arrogant above-thou mask that he wore so proudly.

"I see you've done the impossible again, Potter." Draco held up the mornings edition of the Daily Prophet, "I should've known something like this was bound to occur when you came to speak to my Father."

The Malfoy Heir passed the newspaper to the Savior and he quickly scanned his eyes over it, a small crease appearing in his forehead as he frowned at the moving sight of two Unspeakables, "They're much less worried than I would've thought."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Only you would downplay a Ministry break in, Potter."

"Where is Lucius?"

Draco turned respectfully toward the Dark Lord before speaking, "My father is at Malfoy manor. He locked himself within the west wing after the fall of the Dark."

Harry didn't look up from his paper, "Mmm, I hoped he would've come out after my visit."

Draco snickered and accentuated his weight over to the left side in a dramatic, entirely Malfoyish manor, "Are you really that arrogant, Potter?"

The raven haired teen smiled back cheekily, "Well, I have managed to resurrect the most feared Dark Lord of the millennia. Twice."

Draco smirked, "Touche, Potter."

Voldemort sighed in annoyance, "Now, Now, children. Behave. Draco, bring me to him."

The blonde nodded, "Of course, my Lord. If you will allow me to go through the floo first, I'll unlock the fireplace so that you may follow. It will only take a moment."

Tom waved him off and Draco sent Potter a final nod before stepping back through the floo with all the grace of an aristocratic pureblood.

Voldemort approached his lover and wrapped both arms around the pouting teen's waist, "We knew this would happen eventually, Harry. You brought me back for a reason, and we can't afford to let the Wizarding World slide any further."

Harry opened his mouth to argue that he'd actually done it for purely selfish reasons but before he could get a single word in, the Dark Lord lowered his head and kissed the teen passionately.

All to soon, Tom pulled away from his lover, growling at the look of growing lust on his companion's face, "Harry."

The-boy-who-lived sighed in annoyance before pushing Tom towards the fireplace, "Go. Do your Dark Lord thing, but be nice to Lucius."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow in question and Harry rolled his eyes, "I tried to tell you about the resurrection but you had other things on your mind. Lucius was a big help."

"If you insist."

Thomas Marvolo Riddle pulled Harry close and laid another heavy kiss on the boy's lips before gliding into the fireplace and disappearing in a burst of green flame.

Harry sat in one of the many sitting rooms of Grimmauld Place, staring into the flickering fire as thought consumed his attention. The Dark Lord had returned, and not only that, they'd become lovers. It wasn't planned or discussed, it merely happened and the green eyed teen couldn't help but to smile as he thought about it.

"Smiling like a loon, I see."

The rich baritone of Severus Snape pulled him from his own mind and the teen flashed the Potions Master a genuine smile.

"I was wondering when I'd see you, Severus."

The elder's frown deepened, "Given your intelligence, I'm surprised you can think at all. However, I did not wish to have my eyes burned with the image of yourself and the Dark Lord, Mr. Potter."

Ruby red scalded the teen's cheeks but he said nothing against the other's claims.

"Despite our history, I feel that I must congratulate you on the success of your potion."

Avada Kadavra green eyes widened in near comical surprise, "Am I really being praised for my potion making skills by the feared Potions Master of Hogwarts, Severus Snape?"

The ex professor pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "And as always, modesty remains foreign to you. Yes, I'm congratulating you, you complete and utter dunderhead. How you were able to create the Time Warp Potion, I'll never know."

Harry looked at the dark man that'd made his life hell for most of his time at Hogwarts and he smiled, "We both know I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."

A knowing smile tugged at the corner of the usually sour male's lips but he said nothing.

They both lapsed into peaceful silence, staring at the flames once more before Snape finally spoke.

"Are you happy, brat?"

Green eyes glowed with content, "I find that I am, Severus."

Snape nodded and glanced over the boy he'd risked his life, and ultimately died for. Who so many had died for, and the surly professor couldn't help but to feel a flush of pride at the knowledge that he'd once again helped Harry on his way to saving the Wizarding World.

"Am I correct in assuming that this'll be the last time that I see you, Severus?"

Sarcasm lingered heavily against the Potion Master's tongue but he swallowed it in favor of blunt honesty, "It is. I do not belong here and I merely sought to say goodbye."

Harry bit his lip and Snape instantly knew that there was something the boy had been longing to ask, "Spit it out, Potter."

He seemed almost embarrassed, "Are they.. I mean, I guess I just wondered if they, my parents.. and Sirius.. I mean.."

Severus interrupted him with a respectful hand, "Very proud. Both of them. Even your arrogant toerag of a father and his mutt."

Harry turned and faced the ghost, meeting the eyes that haunted him since the Final Battle, "Thank you. For everything. Enjoy your eternity, Professor. You've most certainly earned it."

The Potions Master sneered but it lacked the malicious nature of a classic Snape glare, "Of course I have. And I would be enjoying it right now if it wasn't for meddling children such as yourself."

A smile broke out across the teen's face, "G'bye, Severus."

Snape returned the boy's radiant smile with one of his own, a rare sight for the strict male, "Goodbye, Harry."

And just like that, the translucent shade of Severus Snape disappeared, leaving Harry to his own thoughts once again.

With the help of Draco and Lucius Malfoy, Tom Riddle was ingrained within the Ministry of Magic before the month ended. The charismatic male had steadily climbed the political ladder, impressing his superiors with his skill and superior mindset. He, of course, made enemies along the way as any good politician does, but over all, he regarded his climb as a complete success.

After an unfortunate accident concerning the Minister of Magic, Tom was thrust into the spot light and the public practically begged him to run for the position. Like any good chess player, he bided his time and gave no for sure response until the right moment presented itself and he announced that after speaking with his significant other, He decided to run for Minister.

When the news broke that Tom's partner was none other than the Savior of the Wizarding World, he won by a landslide, even without the support of all his remaining followers and he took the position in office within a year and a half.

Gradually, the magical world began to straighten itself out under his rule. The public soon found that he was a ruthless leader, and Harry remained his only buffer between what needed to be done and the mask it had to be done with.

In time, the balance between light and dark shifted back over where it belonged, grey and mildly dark spells no longer being monitored by the Ministry. However, it took much longer to repair the damage that Dumbledore had caused. The final break between the magical and muggle world was more difficult to pull off than they'd ever imagined, but in the end, they succeeded.

Muggleborns were widely accepted into the magical world with Tom as Minister, however, at the time of their graduation, each and every one of them were forced swear on their magic that they would never knowingly reveal themselves of the magical world to muggles. There was room left for dire situations and after much pleading from Harry, in the case of love.

The final battle was fought for creature rights and after a very strong speech delivered by none other than The-Boy-Who-Lived, the bill for equal rights was passed. Harry spoke passionately about the amber eyed werewolf that'd been his honorary Godfather. He recalled the kind and gentle man that taught him the Patronus and stood as a paternal figure when needed. And he demanded respect for the man who had stood with all those he loved and fought with them in the Battle of Hogwarts and in the end, that alone was what swayed the public and changed everything.

Five Years Later

Both males laid naked among the black silk sheets that'd bared witness to their very first coupling all those years ago.

The Dark Lord, who was really no longer seen as a Dark Lord by anyone other than his followers, traced his fingers up and down his lover's spine, occasionally letting his fingertips glide lower down the other male's body. After all this time, Tom was glad that he was still the only one who could make Potter gasp in arousal like he could. He was still the only one to ever see Harry in the throws of orgasm.

This particular day, however, was quite special to the older wizard. It'd been difficult to keep a secret from his lover, Tom's one and only true confident. It'd taken ages for him to decide if he could do it, and though he'd never admit it, even longer to swallow the nervous knot that seemed to linger within his throat.

On this day, five years ago, Harry had called him back from the grave, from the prison within Slytherin's great Chamber. Harry Potter, his fated enemy, gave him life once more, and in turn, he now wished to give Harry that same feeling; that burst of life.

"Harry?"

The sleepy teen nuzzled his pillow, "Hmm?"

"I love you."

Harry sat up slowly and looked towards the affections of his heart. It was rare for the Dark wizard to openly express his feelings and the green eyed male could count on one hand the number of times his lover had outright told Harry that he loved him.

Harry offered his beloved a crooked grin that also managed to look playfully affectionate. "I love you too, Tom. As you well know."

Voldemort hummed in agreement, "Very well."

The elder paused as he gathered his thoughts. Despite having his emotions returned to him, it was still difficult for the man to speak of them. It'd taken just over two years for him to figure out how to return the rest of his soul to him. With the use of the resurrection stone and some carefully constructed spells, the Wizarding genius was able to accomplish something that nobody else ever had.

It was a minor bother that he could never share such a thing without revealing his true identity, but his silence was worth the result.

But as Tom Riddle looked at his lover, wrapped in nothing but a sheet, baring the Dark Lord's intimate marks all over his body, he couldn't help but to think that there would never be a better time, that Harry would never look more beautiful than he did right now.

"Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. Twice."

The young man gulped slightly, immediately worried about what he could've possibly done. It was always serious when the Dark wizard pulled out his former title.

"I've never met someone as incredibly stubborn or difficult as you. You're cheeky and mouthy and your sarcasm knows no bounds. You have no sense of timing or respect for the rules and I've never met anybody with a stereotypically Gryffindor hero complex branded so deeply into their personality."

The elder paused for effect and dragged his gaze along his lover, "In turn, I've never encountered somebody with such loyalty as you. You've never backed down, not when the Wizarding World demanded that you vanquish me, and not when you took it upon yourself to bring me back. Everything about you is radiant, your smile is infectious and that cheeky little grin of yours never fails to win over whomever you please."

"Myself included."

Tom slowly reached into the hidden pocket of his robes and pulled a small ring from the folds. Harry's eyes widened as he caught sight of it. The band consisted of three separate strands. The first two were composed entirely of alternating black and red gemstones that twinned intimately together while the third was a thin platinum band that ran straight through the middle of both. A large, clear cut emerald sat in the middle, dominating the piece.

"Harry James Potter, the keeper of my Soul, will you do me the honor of becoming my bonded, for all time?"

Excitement laid etched across the green eyed wizard's face as he reached to the seemingly delicate symbol of their future bonding, however, as his fingers made contact with the metal, he almost choked in surprise.

Dark magic radiated from the ring in thick waves and he realized, almost immediately, that the stone was a newly crafted Horcrux.

The Keeper of my Soul.

"For all time."

Emotion coiled in the ravenette's heart like a spring and as he slid the cool metal over his finger, a gasp of shock left his lips.

The bond that'd once existed between them all that time ago easily fell open, and Harry could feel the intensity behind those carefully crafted words. He could feel everything his lover could never find the words to say and as it all fell in to place, Harry remembered how it all began with an accidental word, and a lone snake roaming the gardens of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.