"Hello Tom."

Voldemort flinches at the sound of his "name" coming from Potter's mouth. Potter, who's sitting on a rock, idly twirling his wand in his hands like there's nothing to fear, and to be fair to potter (something he's reluctant to be) the boy has outlived him numerous times at this point, and perhaps he should take a moment and listen to him.

He stands across the clearing, arms folded across his chest and holds his head high and indicates with his free hand that he should go on. Potter's grin has him immediately regretting the decision.

"You're being stubborn. I don't know why you won't accept that she's your soulmate. She's magnificent and scary and she's perfect for you."

Voldemort makes a face that makes Harry laugh and shake his head, almost friendly, like Voldemort hasn't tried and failed multiple times in this life and all his previous ones to kill him. He's heard this speech a few times from Potter now, almost always at this point in their stories. Hogwarts. The boys would be seventh year. The forest.

He is tired. Of failing, of being beat, of having absolute imbeciles for followers who are consistently bested by school children. It is exhausting.

"I know you're scared" he whispers and Voldemort shudders, because yes, he is scared of believing this and doing something about it and -

"I don't want to do this anymore" Harry says, louder this time and Voldemort can't help but agree – he doesn't want to do it anymore either, he wants to win. For once in his life, he wants to win, and if he needs to stop fooling around trying to become master of the universe to do so then he must listen.

He nods his head solemnly and Harry jumps down from the rock and steps towards him, stopping only a few feet away, "no horcruxes, Okay? Find a better way to wait for her."

Voldemort sighs heavily, horcruxes are evil and terrible to make and hurt but they are easy at the same time, though he understands why he shouldn't make them this time around, if he's lucky, his final time around. "I'll try."

"Good" Harry agrees raising his wand, "Ready?"

Voldemort takes a look around before settling his gaze on Harry and raising his own wand. They have done this dance before.

"Avada Kedavra"

"Expelliarmus"

Voldemort hits the floor, and Tom riddle wakes up gasping in his bed, sixteen years old and without a horcrux to his name. His face is grim and for the first time in his life he is determined to do things right.

Even so, fifty years is a long time to wait for his soulmate, his Hermione Granger.

The first time it happened Voldemort was shocked and bewildered and truly thought that he had lost his mind. He had potter beat. He had that scrawny annoying little shit beat – how could he not with an impossible wand and a horde of death eaters and -

This was not what he anticipated.

So he dismissed it and went about his life and made the same decisions and mistakes and -

He's not sure what to think when he wakes up in his sixteen-year-old body for the second time, but he knows he's angry. That the feeling in his gut twisting and snarling and corrupting him is anger. He makes more mistakes, is more brutal, is more determined and still. Still he fails.

Anger becomes his best friend. It helps him make the same mistakes, more even.

He does not know what to do, how to fix it, him, this weird déjà vu he seems to have had thrust upon him.

He is left reeling by the discovery that all he has to do is meet his soulmate. Meet them – him or her and he will be free of living this life. Reeling and bitter about the discovery. At this point in his life he has met a lot of people, anyone worth meeting has been met, how could his soulmate not possibly fall into that category?

He's not sure which reincarnation he's at when Potter mentions it.

"You haven't met them?" He asks, sounding shocked. And for a second, a slither of a second, Voldemort wants to say "I know right?" And gossip about it like a pair of schoolgirls. Reality is harsher, less forgiving.

Another time, Potter wonders who it could be, teases him about it. It takes Voldemort a very long time to question how Potter even knows, and even longer to work out he's accidentally made a horcrux out of the boy.

He's been possessing Potter in every reincarnation as far as he can remember, but the first time he does so simply because he's bored, Potter's in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by his friends, and celebrating what Voldemort assumes is a quidditch victory. That's when he feels it, a sharp pain in his chest and he turn's Potter's head to find himself sitting beside, hands touching innocently, his soulmate, who's chatting away to Potter like she, presumably normally does.

Voldemort withdraws from his mind jealous. Jealous that Potter has met his soulmate and he hasn't. Angry that the girl, barely an adult and born out of his time is friends with Potter and a Gryffindor. He literally gives zero shits about her being muggleborn, he's only ever pressed the blood purity issue because of Malfoy and Lestrange and Yaxley -

It doesn't matter, he doesn't care about that.

He cares that he will never have her, not like this, not in this incarnation at any rate.

He still doesn't stop. And after a few more lives and reincarnation's Potter works it out. Potter is fucking livid when he first does. Calmes down eventually though, which is worse, because he starts trying to make Tom accept it, confront it, her.

He's not a scared little boy anymore even if his appearance is that of one. He has a piece of Voldemort's soul in him, he knows how many times they've done this and how he feels about it all and -

He enjoys torturing Voldemort about it.

Until he too agrees that enough is enough.

That is the last time he ever sees Potter in the clearing of the forest at Hogwarts.