Summary : A year after Harry graduates from Hogwarts and the Light's last stand against the Dark is near. A curse goes wrong that, though it does win them the War, leaves serious repercussions for everyone. This Chapter: Harry explains why he can't let Tom go.

Rating : R

Warnings: Unusual sexual situation. Mentions of a threesome.

Thanks to Suzine for beta-ing. And thanks to my crazy roommate, who I'll call Assy Spellcheck, for giving this part the one over and then making me feel uncomfortable by laughing hysterically at all the R rated bits.

Ashes to Ashes

Part Three

Devotion

"And when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars and he shall make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with the night and pay no worship to the garish sun."

~ William Shakespeare; Romeo and Juliet

Harry

"And I have the sense to recognize, that I don't know how to let you go

Deep within, I'm shaken by the violence of existing only for you…"

~Sarah McLachlan; Do What You Have to Do

They don't understand. None of them do.

They think I'm so accustomed to playing the hero that I don't know how to stop. They think that I've grown used to have someone to save; that I need to be rescuing someone from the Dark so badly that I'll even resort to trying to save the disposed Prince of Darkness himself.

In a way, it's true. I've been hailed as the Boy-Saviour of the world ever since I was eleven and I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to be anything else apart from Harry Potter. I've been living under the shadow of Voldemort for so long that I can't imagine going on without him.

Lucius thought that the Unmaking went wrong because I wasn't trying hard enough. He said that I didn't give it my all. That I was holding back. I'm glad I hit him, the smug inbred poodle. He has no right to accuse me of not doing everything I could for the Light. He has no right to point his treacherous, self-preserving finger at me. And above all he has no right to have hit the bloody nail smack on its head.

I didn't want to cast that curse. I didn't want it all to be over. And none of them will ever understand.

When I spoke the words and he fell, I felt it. I felt it more acutely than the most loyal Death Eater. It was as if something had ripped the heart out of my chest. I was hollow inside, an empty shell. It was worse than losing Sirius, it was worse than anyone I've ever lost. It was worse than anyone I could ever lose and if I had the choice I would have traded all of them - every single one of them - to bring him back.

None of them are a part of me like he was, and he was a part of me. I can barely remember what it was like before he and I - before we - I suppose it all goes back to Sirius falling through the veil. If I hadn't lost Sirius the way I had I never would have taken my Occlumency seriously - the pun was completely unintentional. I was filled with hatred so intense that it was absurdly easy for Voldemort to invade my mind. Then for the first time I actually did something that Snape had told me to.

Let go of your emotions.

I did. The entire holidays I practiced. Practiced calming myself. Deliberately provoked my Muggle relatives to berate me, scream at me, even to turn on me physically, just so I could practice to clear my mind of all anger.

Count to ten; take a deep breath, think of your happy place… I tried every trick I could. I read every book on meditation I could lay my hands on. He was never going to get into my mind. My thoughts were my own and I had no wish to see his. Never again was he going to use me as his pawn.

After my sixth year started, I followed Snape around for a month until he agreed to start teaching me Occlumency again. He didn't give up without a fight though. I'm pretty sure that the only reason he took me on again was because Dumbledore ordered him to, otherwise he never would have willingly suffered my presence. He was furious that he had to take me for NEWT level Potions. How I managed an O still befuddles me.

I behaved myself around him even though he was as insufferable as ever. My lack of reaction angered him all the more and he goaded me with choice insults on my personality and my family. I believe he was trying to get me to blow up at him just so he would have an excuse to refuse to teach me any more.

I kept telling myself that it was good practice. But all the same at first it was excruciatingly hard not to react. I've never been very good at keeping my temper under control, especially where Snape is concerned. I'd bite my lips until I drew blood sometimes, to stop the words that rose to them. It paid off eventually for I grew much better, so much so that even Snape had to admit that I was doing well. It was hard going though. Voldemort plagued my dreams and hampered my waking hours trying to break into my mind. He wasn't pleased at all and redoubled his efforts to break through my defences. I retaliated anyway that I could. I even ended up persuading Snape to increase my Occlumency lessons from one day a week to two or sometimes three days.

Hermione clucked approvingly and told me how pleased she was that I was finally growing up and that I should be very proud of myself. Ginny approved too, but she is a more pro-active sort of person and thought that I should pay more attention to duelling as opposed to demonic exorcism - that was how she put it. Neville looked worried and told me that he was afraid that all the strain on my mind might drive me mad. Ron came up with the first of what Malfoy affectionately calls his 'conspiracy theories' and the rest of us call his 'insane notions'. He decided - and Luna agreed with him, I swear if he was straight those two would make a lovely couple - that Snape and I were having a clandestine affair with each other which had started because Snape had seduced me at the behest of Lord Voldemort who thought that I would be easier to kill if I was shagged out of my skull.

See what I mean?

Anyway I wasn't the one boning Malfoy. I was too busy with keeping the bogeyman better known as Voldie out of my mind and the events after that to realize what was going on until Ron and I decided to share a flat together after graduation.

Around Christmas I was finally able to block him out for good. He did everything he could to penetrate my psyche and I did everything I could to keep him out. This resulted in head splitting migraines, but I would not let him in again. And then something unexpected happened. A particularly agonizing mind battle on New Years Eve caused me to black out. When I regained consciousness I found that I could feel what he was feeling.

It wasn't anything like fifth year when I'd burst out laughing hysterically when he was happy. My emotions were not affected by his directly. I suppose feel isn't quite the right word to use. I could sense everything that he was feeling. It was rather like I had somehow keyed into his aura. I was certain that the connection was two-way. He would be able to pick up on whatever I was feeling as well.

Dumbledore said that I shouldn't worry unduly. Neither of us would be able to see what each other was thinking so he wouldn't be able to see any of the Order's plans.

The one good thing that came out of it was that he stopped trying to read my mind.

Reassuring though that was, that wasn't what I was worried about. I didn't want to be walking around all day knowing that Lord Voldemort was feeling murderous or homicidal. I didn't want to be able to sense his viciousness, his sadism, his cruelty. At first I would go rushing to the headmaster's office every time the Dark Lord had a mood swing but I stopped after a week of being politely rebuffed and being sent to the hospital wing for a calming potion.

Now one of the important things in Occlumency is to clear your mind of all thoughts before you sleep. The time I spent in bed before falling into slumber was the time I would think about the events of the day and go over whatever it was that was going wrong so when I had resumed lessons with Snape a few months earlier I found this particular clause rather difficult. I tried everything I could that would sooth me so that I could achieve the emotionless state required but to no avail. Around Halloween Snape had been threatening to stop teaching me if I didn't manage it. Ron suggested I try - there's no attractive way to say this - jerking off. By this time I was desperate enough to start eating flobberworm bogies if I though they would help so I did take up Ron's suggestion. Unsurprisingly it worked. There was an embarrassing moment when Snape, pleased with my progress asked me what I was doing different but that's something that I'd rather forget. Anyway I regularly touched myself when I couldn't get to sleep.

Two weeks after the link between Voldemort and myself had been triggered I couldn't sleep. I was furious that no one seemed to be taking the situation very seriously and kept telling me not to worry and he was extremely wrathful and brutal that night. My hand sort of wandered down there and I started to pump myself in a familiar, comforting rhythm.

The vengeful feelings were instantly replaced with astonishment and horror. I realized with grim delight that I was making him feel exceedingly uncomfortable. Ha! I thought Up yours, Voldie!

I came a few seconds later and I registered relief, frustration and arousal. I had been too caught up in my own climax to be aware of his unfulfilled lust. I felt rather disgusted with the idea but I fell asleep before I could give much thought to the matter.

When I awoke the next morning he was still frustrated and a little confused. I was in a better mood than I had been for the past six months. At last I had found a way to get my own back on him. Of course it didn't make up for everything he had put me through, but it was a start. As far as I was concerned if I could make him feel a little ill at ease then I was all for it.

From that day I took my late-night activities to an unprecedented level (at least for me). I found that there were several people who would happily shag me or be shagged simply so that they could say that they had done the Boy-who-lived. I lost my virginity fairly quickly, to Lavender Brown and Blaise Zabini - at the same time… if nothing else the experience was certainly enlightening. I broke up with them soon after. What followed next was a string of one night stands and relationships, with either sex - the longest of which lasted a little under two weeks. Witch Weekly was having a field day. I even tried to get it on with Malfoy - I mean the little prat is rather cute if you look at him from a certain angle and his family had joined our side. He ran off like a bat out of hell and the next thing I know I'm involved in a flaming row with Ron. He was squalling like a scalded cat over consorting with the enemy and how one could never trust a Malfoy. I sneered at him and said that maybe he was so riled up about it because he wanted to be the one consorting with the enemy. At the time I didn't know that he already was. He went red and muttered something about having to go and stroke his ferret.

I wasn't deriving great pleasure from my escapades but then neither was he. He grew increasingly angry and distracted every time. My indiscretions bothered him to no small degree and that was enough for me. I actually found it quite amusing to think of him calling off Death Eater meetings and Muggle attacks because he was waylaid by me and my rampaging hormones.

Several of the members of the Order and my friends were quite worried about my turning into the school bike. Hermione headed straight to the library to read up on teen psychology and safe sexual practices and I regularly began to find books on my pillow with titles like When to say no and Sexually Transmitted Diseases: What they are and how to prevent them. I put a stop to it by politely asking her if she had the wizard's version of Kama Sutra in her collection. Ron deduced that I was being slowly poisoned by an untraceable venom, that was being fed to me every day by a malignant house elf under the service of the Dark Lord, and which had aphrodisiacal properties. I thanked him for his concern and suggested that maybe he was the one who was being slowly poisoned. Neville was convinced that the strain had driven me insane and joined Hermione in the library - only he was looking up on homicidal sex maniacs - and side-stepped me completely. I decided the only thing to do was to leave him alone; if I were to pursue him he'd probably think that he was my next target and scream rape. Ginny told me that I was looking for affection and love in all the wrong places and was trying to equate love with sex. She said that I probably had an inferiority complex paired with a strong wish fulfilment tendency and it was a result of the abuse and neglect that I had suffered during my formative years. I think she had gotten hold of one of Hermione's psychology books. Luna told me that I was a free spirit and that this was my way of retaliating to the confines the school kept me in. She said that sex was an art that I was using to express myself with and that I should do whatever I could to keep my fire alight or it would be extinguished by the cages of an unsympathetic, repressive society. I have no idea if that was supposed to be some sort of hint or whether it was just Luna being her own indecipherable self.

Thankfully none of the teachers or other adults tried to give me advice or offer any explanation as to my new found promiscuity. I think I would have died of embarrassment if McGonaggal had started to give me an impromptu sex-ed class or if Snape had sat me down for a man to man talk about the birds and the bees.

One hot night in March I was alone for a change. I didn't bother wearing pajamas to bed anymore and I had thrown off my covers. I was used to Voldemort feeling unsatisfied, irritated and aroused so I thought nothing of it. I was just drifting off to sleep when - what the hell was that!?

A sudden jolt of pleasure had surged through my body. I lay still for a few seconds and then closed my eyes when it happened again. And again.

I was beginning to tremble with undiluted lust. I was growing hot - hotter than the still, sultry night and every part of me was tingling with desire. In no time at all I was rock hard. It was all the more exciting because I had no idea what was happening to me. It was as if some phantom admirer of mine had - hang on - I realized with alarm that he had decide to give me a taste of my own medicine. He was - well, I had no idea what he was doing but it felt incredible. I struggled to take hold of myself as another wave of sensation swept over me. Was this what it felt like? Was this what I did to him? If that was the case then I didn't know why he was so disgruntled over something so breath-takingly erotic.

The knowledge that this was Voldemort doing things should have repulsed me. I think I got even more aroused than before but I was also highly indignant. He was not going to get the better of me. Right mister, you asked for it I thought. Two can play at this game.

With that I grabbed my cock, a little harder than I intended to in my haste and rubbed myself up and down. He was surprised and taken aback but then I felt the waves of pleasure overtake me again with renewed vigour. I was teetering on the edge now and was leaking hard but I took a deep breath, waited a few seconds and then I brushed the head of my cock with two fingers gently and then spread my own pre-come over my length.

Then as I began to thrust into my own hand I felt the shattering waves of his ministrations pass over me and the sensation of both our efforts combined was unlike anything I had ever felt. Every nerve was on fire. Every filament of my body was alight with lust and passion and I fisted myself with pure need and want.

I didn't last very long and neither did he. As the force of my orgasm overtook me I felt his climax hit. It was mind-blowing. There were sparks behind my eyes and I screamed out in ecstasy, loud enough to wake the entire tower. I was coming harder than I ever had before in my life. None of my own fumblings or any passion I had ever shared with any other had been as intense.

I shuddered and gasped as the last few spasms shook me. I was still reeling in the dizzying aftermath when Ron stuck his head through the curtains. "Harry, you alright? I heard a yell"

His eyes widened in horror at the sight of me, panting and naked, covered in sweat and seed, one hand still wrapped around my now flaccid cock.

"Aaawk!" he gurgled and yanked the curtains back.

Well, I thought, that went well.

Indeed, was it good for you too?

It wasn't a voice in my head or anything like that. It wasn't even like reading something out of a book. It was more as if a thought had popped into my head that was not my own. His thoughts.

How? I thought and then realized that it must have been what we had just done together that had opened some sort of mental connection between us.

You're getting smarter as you grow up, boy. Another alien thought. Maybe there's hope for you yet.

Because it wasn't a voice that I was hearing, but rather a thought that I was thinking, there was no intonation and no emotion was conveyed by it. But I could still feel him. I could read satiation, smugness and an undertone of excited apprehension. That probably meant that he had not anticipated this new development. It was as new to him as it was for me

You haven't answered me. And now I was getting a faint annoyance from him. Was it good for you?

Wicked, I thought cheekily. We have to do it again some time.

Amusement.

Potter, you're an absolute - he was cut off suddenly. It was rather like he had hung up on me in a telephone conversation.

Hey! Come back here!

That thought surprised me. It was my own but still it was weird. Considering how weird the day had started out to be I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that I didn't want him to go.

He hadn't really gone anywhere. I could read surprise and bewilderment from him as well. He also seemed more than a little put out.

The connection had been closed. It was as if it had never existed in the first place. Apparently it only lasted for a few seconds.

I got up slowly, pulled on my pajama bottoms and headed straight for the showers. As the water hit me so did the realization of what it was that I had done. I wasn't exactly sure what had just happened but in my mind I equated it to having had sex with Voldemort.

Sex. With. Voldemort.

By any sane standards the words Voldemort and sex should not have even been in the same sentence.

I felt filthy and unclean and tremendously guilty. At the same time I also felt excited and rather giddy. But no, this wasn't something to be thrilled about! This was wrong, depraved, perverted, exquisite, delicious.

I would never allow it to happen again.

We have to do it again sometimes.

I realized that I had just committed myself to a repeat performance. I hadn't only simply committed myself to it, I had suggested it!

I felt myself growing more and more excited at the prospect. And my anticipation was not the only thing that was rising. I glared down at my budding arousal and cursed my traitorous body. Then I firmly turned the water to cold.

Ron wouldn't look me in the face for a week. To this day he has never walked in on me without knocking or yelling first.

There was not going to be a next time I told myself. I was not going to even touch myself again until I had found a way to defeat Voldemort. Besides, it was too dangerous to let him have access to my thoughts. I had no illusions as how deadly that could prove. Nope. It was going to have to stop right here, right now.

No more night time experimentations for you, Mr Potter.

My resolve lasted all but two days.

A proper duelling class had been set up for the sixth and seventh years by our new Defence against the Dark Art's Professor who was some old friend of Dumbledore's called Myron Underhill. Thankfully he was competent without being a Death Eater in disguise. In the lesson I'm interested in he divided us into pairs to try out the Confundus charm on each other.

"The beauty of the Confundus," he said, "is that it's harder to block than Stupefy or Expelliarmus, mainly because your attacker won't be expecting you to use it. Once he or she is confunded it's a piece of cake to stun them, but you have to be very quick about it. There should be as short a time lag between the two spells as possible. A confunded person with a wand is a danger to himself and to everyone around."

My duelling partner was Malfoy.

"Scared, Potter?" he asked.

"You wish!" I hissed.

This was becoming a little ritual of ours when ever we had to duel each other.

We raised our wands. Bowed and then poised to strike.

"On three," shouted Underhill. "One, two… three!"

Then to my horror I felt the same strange pleasurable rush of two days ago spread through me. I gasped and shivered.

I must have moved because Malfoy's curse brushed passed my ear and he was adept enough at duelling by then not to have missed a stationary target.

I struggled to compose myself when it happened again. My knees bucked.

It happened three or four times in quick succession. By now I was flushed and my breath was coming out in short quick puffs and I was growing painfully aroused.

The phantom touch stopped and I whined in frustration.

Malfoy was goggling at me as if I had grown an extra head.

"Are you alright?"

I wiped my forehead and nodded shakily. I just hoped that he wasn't going to start again until I was alone.

"I'm okay - I'm alright… I'm feeling better!" I said brightly and grinned at Malfoy. It must have come out manically because he gulped and started to look around for help. Thank God for loose fitting robes. My erection was pressing achingly into my briefs and if he had seen it I'm sure he would have joined Neville in the homicidal rapist research.

"If you're sure," he said raising his wand again.

Another wave passed over me and I moaned.

"Professor!!" yelled Malfoy. "Something's wrong with Potter."

The last thing I wanted was to draw more attention to my predicament.

I bolted out of the room as fast as my trembling legs would carry me and darted into the first storage cupboard that I saw. Luckily it was empty.

"No," I whispered as yet another spasm shook me. I was not going to succumb to temptation. But it felt so good.

As the spasms sped up and became more regular I humped the air desperate for some friction, desperate for relief - desperate to come.

My fingers scrabbled with the buttons of my trousers and I yanked my briefs down with them violently. My cock popped out, hard and dripping.

I grasped it roughly and started to stroke, moaning wantonly. Two hard tugs and that was all it took to shove me over the edge. My climax seemed to trigger his own and I ascended to a peak of bliss that I had never imagined existed.

I collapsed on the floor in a shuddering heap. The front of my robes was splattered with come. I groaned at my lack of control and dropped my head into my hands, which wasn't a very good idea seeing as they were very sticky with my semen.

What's the matter, Potter? Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that.

Smug bastard.

Go away! I hate you!

Oh my heart! And here I was about to confess my undying love for you.

Smug, sardonic bastard.

You don't have a heart.

Perhaps not. Yours, however, is going like a rabbit's.

How do you know?

Just a guess and I see I was right.

Smug, sardonic, self-satisfied bastard.

Go fuck yourself, why don't you.

If you insist. My! You are insatiable.

No! That's not what I meant - Oh God! Don't Stop!

*

And so began the strangest, most unexpected sexual liaison that there ever was.

I found myself powerless to resist his advances. Whenever I would experience the sensual flush of his touch I would drop whatever I was doing and find somewhere secluded where I would join in .

For the first few weeks I walked around with a semi permanent hard on all the time. What made it more exciting was how forbidden and illicit it was. The secrecy that was crucial for the pair of us to keep at what we were doing was all the more enticing. It was wrong on so many levels, but no matter how I tried I could not feel guilty about it. Any few sparks of guilt that I might have had were promptly snuffed out whenever I felt him.

The mental link between us seemed to exist for a longer time period every time we came together. The logical, reasonable thing to do would have been to warn someone of if but I was afraid that they would make me stop… seeing him? Sleeping with him? None of these really fit. In any case I didn't think that I could bare not having those waves of intense pleasure sweep over me and having him whisper wonderful, terrible things to me so I said nothing. It was our dirty little secret and that was exactly how I liked it.

The conversations that we had after sex were not as disturbing as what you would expect from the Bringer of the Apocalypse, which was what the Daily Prophet had started to call him. I remember he found that particularly amusing.

Bringer of the Apocalypse? I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life.

Oh yeah, so you you're saying that isn't what you want? That all you want is world peace and to help old people and orphans? Oh- and lets not forget that you are passionate about saving the environment too!

Your jokes are getting worse. No, what I want is to rule the world. How am I expected to do that if I bring about the end of it?

Oh… I see. That does make sense.

I always make sense.

No, you don't.

Yes, I do.

No, you -

Potter! I am not about to start an I-do-you-don't ding-dong with you!

Aw! Why? I think that we should be cute like that together?

What?

It's what couples do.

Go to sleep. I need some peace from your idiosyncrasies. Your brain is addled with sleep deprivation.

No thanks to you.

Goodnight Potter.

*

When my sixth year ended - with appalling exam results - and I was sent back to the Dursleys for what I vowed would be the last time ever, I locked myself in my room and only came down at mealtimes. In fact I would have been happy not to come down at all and just have them pass me food through a cat flap but they had taken the threats my see-off party has given then at the end of my sixth year to heart and wanted to make sure that I ate and was not starving myself to death. Apparently Uncle Vernon thought that I might kill myself while I was under his roof just to spite them and get them in trouble with the other 'freaks'.

By now the mind-link would last up to an hour or so post coitus. I welcomed the company and initiated sex as often as I could… not just because I was growing addicted to him but sometimes just so I could have him be with me.

The good thing was that he only had access to the thoughts that I wanted him to see. The same went for me. He didn't have any idea about what the Order was up to - well, neither did I most of the time, but he couldn't find out the little that I knew. On the same coin the only way I would know about the Death Eaters was what he chose to tell me.

On the plus side at least my homework was impeccable.

Ready for another round?

God, no! Go away! I have to finish this potions essay!

I thought you hated potions.

I do, but I still have to do my homework don't I?

I mean, the O aside, why did you take Potions for NEWT level if you hate it so much?

I need it if I want to become an Auror.

Typical! Even letting them choose your career for you?

No, I want to be one.

Of course you do. At your age everyone wants to save the world, destroy the world or take over the world. You are the 'save the world' type.

And I suppose you fell into the 'take over the world' category.

Exactly. I don't suppose any of them happened to suggest any alternate career options.

Um… no, but I expect they thought I was best suited for an Auror.

I can think of several other things.

Like what, exactly?

Curse-breaking; you'd be good at that. Professional Quidditch - at least you'd be doing something you liked. You could even have a shot at teaching - from what you tell me of this ludicrous DA thing you set up you were quite good at it.

Hmm, I still don't -

I know you don't. You can't even see past the nose on your face! You don't see that all they're doing is setting you up where you will be of most use to them. You're a tool, Potter, they don't care if you end up miserable and despondent, stuck in a job that you may not be suited for as long as you fulfil your purpose and destroy me. You can rot in the gutter after that, for all their concern.

…

Have I upset you, little boy?

What poisons will a bezoar not protect you from?

What?

What poisons will a beozar not protect you from? I have to describe them and write why. Don't you know? Dammit, I'll have to look it up.

Don't you pay any attention in class? I swear someone was heavily bribed for you to get that O. Do you have a quill ready? Right - the bezoar comes from a goat's stomach so while it will save you from the primary…

Snape was so shocked at the quality of my essay that he quite rightly suspected that I hadn't done it myself and demanded to know who had. I told him snidely that Voldemort had helped with all of my summer assignments. I got detention three nights in a row scrubbing the floors of the east wing corridors for Filch without magic for my cheek.

You're in where?

Detention.

Do you know how many points off you would get if they caught you molesting yourself when you were supposed to be scrubbing cauldrons?

I don't care. I haven't been with you since I got back and I missed you. And it isn't cauldrons it's floor that I'm scrubbing.

You're insane. Someone cart the boy off to St Mungo's in a straight-jacket!

May not be such a bad idea. I could do with getting my head examined.

Amen to that. Who gave you detention in the first week of term, anyway?

I'll give a clue. He's greasy, his nose stretches from here to Diagon alley and he thinks I'm the antichrist like that kid from the Omen.

That would be Snape, then. What's the Omen?

Muggle Horror film. I'm surprised that Snape hasn't choked on his own bile yet.

Ah Snape! When I catch him for his treachery, I'll cruciate him a couple of times for you.

You do that.

You know, I think you hate him more than you hate me.

You got that right, and I… well I… I think…

Yes, Potter?

I don't think I hate you any more.

*

It was true. I didn't hate him anymore. He was the focus of my life. He was all I could think about. Every chance I could I would steal away just so that I could be with him. I withdrew into myself and avoided my friends as much as I could.

I knew that if anyone suspected anything amiss and they investigated the matter I would not be able to bear his loss, so I tried to act as normal as possible. I went to Quidditch Practise, hung about with the others as much as I could tolerate and laughed and smiled to the best of my ability. The mind-link between us would remain for a long time now so that helped. Even if we were both too occupied with other matters to have anything to say to one another it was a comfort to have him there.

Why didn't you do this earlier? Why did you wait so long before you responded to what I was doing?

I regarded it as a weakness. I told myself that I would not be led into temptation.

Then what happened?

It would appear that I succumbed. One day it got too much to bear.

So, I'm not a weakness, then.

You still are, but I can't bring myself to stay away. After every time I ask myself is it I who controls you or is it you who throws the dice?

I think both of us lost any semblance of control we may have had over this situation long ago.

I was obsessed. Addicted. I was drawn to him as a moth is drawn to a flame. I craved him more with each passing day. Every moment that could be spared was not enough. And the limits of our meetings were beginning to wear me down. I was far from satisfied. I was falling deeper into madness… and into him.

… Oh God! Don't stop… don't stop…oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes Oh TOM!

What was that?

A… mind… blowing… orgasm. What did you think it was?

Not that, you insolent child! You just called me Tom.

Did I? When?

Just then - when you climaxed.

Oh. I didn't realize.

I haven't heard that name in a long time.

That isn't true. Dumbledore calls you Tom.

Gah! I mean in that way, you idiot. Dumbledore! Thank you for a most disgusting image.

Oh dear, I'm sorry…well I like Tom better than Voldemort, anyway. It's more personal.

You're sickeningly sentimental. Well seeing as it's you, I'll let you call me that.

There isn't anything that you can do to stop me.

I could do this

Oh God! Oh yes - just like that…Oh Tom!

Hmm, so much for that.

Oh keep doing that! Oh God! I need you.

Shh, child. I'll take care of it.

No! Not that - I need you. This isn't enough any more. I need you to touch me, to hold me. I want- I want you to take me!

Don't. You know that we can't. This will have to be enough. This is all that we have.

But, I -

Don't. Just concentrate on here and now.

*

We both knew that it wouldn't last. It couldn't. No matter how much he possessed me we knew that the prophesy would hold and we would be forced apart. No matter how much he consumed me and turned me inside out one of us would have to destroy the other and I knew that if it were me I would in turn be destroyed by what I had done. No matter how much I loved him - yes, loved him, it would never be safe enough for me to meet him in the flesh.

His hands would never touch and caress my skin. His lips would never touch mine. I longed for him, slit red eyes and serpentine though he was, I craved his touch more than anything in the world. If the devil had come out of Hell and offered me one hour with him in return for my soul I would have given it up in an instant. He already played my body like a maestro, would it not be even more breath taking, more mind shattering if it were real? I doubted that I would survive the intensity.

But one day it would come to an end. We tried to cling on to what we had for as long as possible. As the weeks and months went by I left Hogwarts and started Auror training and he set about forming his armies. The times when we had to meet in battle were awful for me. But we surreptitiously avoided single combat with each other, trying to postpone the inevitable.

In my mind I saw him as two separate persons. One was the deformed serpent - the hideous inhuman spectre that I was born to destroy. The one my scar burnt at the very sight of. The one I was meant to send to the depths of hell where he belonged. The other was my lover, my life, my everything - the one I could never have enough of. The one who I would willingly follow to the bowels of the earth if he wished to go there.

As the months went by however it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep them two separate entities. It was becoming heart breakingly obvious that they were one person. Every time we met in battle we grew further apart. He would grow more distant and unreachable every time he suffered a defeat and I would wait for his anger and vengeance to abate so that I could snatch another few moments of forbidden pleasure with him.

As the Death Eaters grew stronger they began to inflict serious damage on us. I found his morbid delight quite alarming and the distance between us increased exponentially. I loved him still, but I realized that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. That he would not let me stand in the way of his victory. He would kill me when he had finished toying with me, and I could no longer overlook what I had to do. Unless I wanted to condemn the world to unconditional suffering I would have to destroy him sooner or later. And I dreaded the coming of that day.

Then some two months ago after the Light suffered one of the worse losses that we had so far I overheard Lucius Malfoy talking to Snape. Even though Lucius wasn't the devil personified to me any more I still loathed the man. I had to work with him and I did realize that he was a valuable asset to our side but that didn't mean that I had to like him.

He detested me as well, and he personally blamed me for Draco's injury. Probably because I was in charge of our battle group.

"I don't know, he's just always so out of it," I heard the elder Malfoy saying. "If you ask me the Dark Lord has nothing to worry about." I stiffened realizing that they were talking about me.

"Surely you don't mean that, Lucius," said Snape. "I admit that Potter does seem to live in a world of his own most of the time and I can't stand the brat any more that you can, but he is quite formidable in battle. He's getting very adept at the Avada -"

"The Avada Kedavra is not going to kill the Dark Lord," snapped Malfoy. "Not even if it is Potter who casts it."

"Then we must find another way."

"There is a spell I know of," Lucius murmured. "It might be what we're looking for."

"Then why don't you -"

"Too dark, too dangerous and all together far too difficult. It requires a tremendous amount of power and great strength of mind. Besides, there are about five hundred things that could go wrong. Dumbledore would have a cow if he knew I had even considered it."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

I didn't stay to listen more. I didn't think I could without losing my temper. How dare Malfoy presume that I was not up to doing what I had to do. My bad mood carried into the night.

You're distracted. What's on your mind?

Nothing.

Don't lie to me, Harry.

I overheard Malfoy and Snape talking about how incompetent I was. That's all. I'm just as good a duellist as they are. Better even.

Perhaps they question your ability to duel me.

I have duelled you before and I survived that.

But so did I, and they have a very good reason to want me dead. I do hope they are not killed in battle, I want the pleasure of dealing with them myself once I win this war.

Once you win this war?

Of course. It's very soon, my love. The next time we meet only one of us will leave alive.

It's come? Already?

Calm down. There's no need to get hysterical. I'm hardly going to be storming Hogwarts tonight, but I cannot put it off much longer. The next battle will be for Hogwarts. The last battle.

I had hoped we would have more time. Oh Tom, I wish it had never come to this.

You're such a child, Harry. I shall miss you dearly - I find your innocence and devotion quite touching.

You're going to miss me?

Yes, if there was not that damned prophesy to think of I would keep you as a catamite instead.

You're so sure of yourself, aren't you? You're so damned confident that you are going to win.

I am, child. You are neither knowledgeable nor powerful enough to defeat me. If you had a few more years, then maybe, but I cannot wait anymore. I have already squandered enough time on you.

You're just so - so aggravating! Go away, I don't want to talk to you when you're in this sort of a mood! The mind-link's about to break anyway. See you tomorrow?

I think not.

When then?

Harry, I don't think this is a good idea anymore.

You mean it's over?

Yes, it's only a matter of weeks now before… well, this is Goodbye.

No it isn't you prick! Goodbye will be on the battle field when I kick your sorry arse once and for all!

Quite. Goodbye, Harry.

And he was gone.

The next day I went to see Lucius and told him that I wanted to learn about this dark, dangerous curse that he didn't think I was capable enough. I was so angry with Tom for calling it off so cruelly and casually that I thought that now I was finally ready to let go.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

I told Malfoy that it was odd not to feel him but in reality when he fell it was the most agonizing thing that I've ever felt. It was far worse than any torture that I've ever been subjected to. I couldn't feel anything except my own overpowering, overwhelming despair. He was gone - he was gone and I was alone. I had never felt such acute, piercing, stabbing loneliness in my entire life. It ate away at my insides - into the very fibre of my body, into my heart and mind and soul. It felt as if part of my soul had been torn away from me.

I couldn't stand it. I wanted to scream with my desolation and grief and the numbing pain. I wanted to scream until my throat bled and my voice had worn out. I had longed for a time when I could lie down without having to feel him before I slept. I had longed to be free of the presence that haunted my subconscious but now I was paralysed with loss. I would have preferred death infinitely compared to this heart wrenching anguish that consumed my whole being.

Death… that was it… After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure - who had said that to me? It seemed like an eternity ago. Suddenly I felt very calm and collected. It made perfect sense. They didn't need me anymore. Voldemort was gone. The prophesy was fulfilled and I was vacant and empty with no reason to carry on. My life was meaningless. My entire life had been moulded by him. He made me what I was. For almost ten years the sole purpose had been to destroy him and for the past two years he was the only reason that I even bothered to get up in the mornings.

Nobody would notice if I slipped away from the victory cheers and celebrations. They were all too busy wrapped up in their jubilations to notice that my soul was in tatters. He was gone and he had taken my will to live with him. As for how they would the other would take it - I just didn't care. They'd get over it anyway.

I started to make my way towards the Forbidden Forest. Let there be one more reason for the students to want to visit it.

Harry Potter died there. They say his ghost still roams in the forest.

Ha! If one thing I had no intention of staying behind. There was nothing left for me here - nothing.

Then I felt something. It was very faint - almost intangible - but there was something.

I turned around so fast that I tripped over my own feet and landed face down on the ground. I made my way back through the battle-field - it will never be just the Quidditch Pitch in my mind again - as fast as I could. I rather think that I sprinted.

It was him. I could feel bewilderment, exhaustion and fear. All of was very faint, very hazy as if it was coming to me from very far away but all I cared about that he was still there and still alive.

I almost wept with joy when I saw Malfoy dragging him across the grounds. No words can describe the measure of relief and liberation that I felt. I think I would have started singing and dancing if Malfoy's leg hadn't given away under their combined weight and he had called for help.

I was ready to scream with frustration when they took him away again. When they started discussing ways to exterminate him I was this close to hexing someone. I hadn't come this far to give him up without a fight.

Well he's mine now, after all the threatening and name-calling and brawls that would have done any seedy bar proud. He's mine and I can't let him go. I'm exhausted but I'm not going anywhere. I'm terrified that if I go to sleep he won't be here when I wake up.

Madam Pomfrey tried to chase me away a few hours ago. She says he's not going to wake up for another eight hours at least with the amount of sedatives he's been given.

I told her I didn't care. She gave me a very odd look and then let me be. It's nice to see that the Boy-who-lived status is still holding out even after I appear to have lost my mind. That's what they all think - that I'm insane- apart from those who are calling me a saint.

Saint Potter! - And pigs might fly.

If they only knew exactly why I can't bare to let him go. I'd probably die laughing from the expression on their faces if they didn't kill me first.

The Non-fiendo unmade him not to the elements from which he was formed but to who he used to be. Full Circle - back to when he first began to lose his innocence. As I look down on him, sleeping an unnaturally peaceful, drugged sleep, I wonder if I'll be able to keep him. I know in my heart that if I can make him believe in himself the way I do - he will be able to redeem his soul. I know that it isn't going to be easy. He's irrefutably drawn to the dark. I know this as well as I know that my days will be dark without him. He craves power and supremacy more than any desire of the flesh or fortune. And he fears death - more than anything. Almost as much as I fear going on without him. As much as I fear that even now they will take him from me and lead him to the Dementors, where the fire in his eyes will die.

So I will watch. Watch him as if my life depends on it. Actually my life does depend on it. Should anything happen to him I would die. If I can keep him safe from them, I can help him find himself. If I can kill Voldemort perhaps I can find Tom Riddle.

Like the phoenix he has arisen from his own ashes. He has returned to the boy he used to be. If I can only keep him safe from them who would cause him harm or try to use him for their own means maybe he will stay this way.

And maybe I can save my own soul while I seek to preserve his.

Maybe I can rise again from my own ashes.

Maybe I will be able to become the boy that I used to be.

End

***********

Possible Sequel : Every Breath You Take

"Every breath you take and every move you make

Every bond you break, every step you take

I'll be watching you.

Every single day and every word you say

Every game you play, every night you stay

I'll be watching you."

~Sting; Every Breath You Take

***********

This is the end of Ashes to Ashes. Thank you to everyone who followed it, everyone who reviewed and above all to my betas. Do me the favour of reviewing once more and answering a little Poll regarding a possible sequel.

Should I continue this story with a sequel?

A. No! For the love of God, do not continue with this monstrosity!!

B. No, the story was good but best left to my imagination as to what happens next.

C. Yes! I need to know what happens next! You can't leave me hanging in the balance like this.

D. Meh! Either way I don't really care.

If you answer C any requests as to whom you would like to see narrate?

If you liked Ashes to Ashes and would like to see what becomes of Harry, Tom, Draco, Ron, Hermione and everyone else please respond. The sequel I have in mind

Every Breath You Take will only be written if I see that people wish for it to be.

Hugs and Cookies!

Secret Weapon