Tom sat beside Harry on the couch, his fingers gripping into his dark hair. Harry sat stiffly beside him, unsure of what to do. Harry needed to get back to the Ministry soon.

"I haven't felt like this in years – since before I knew I was a wizard..." whispered Tom.

Harry scooted closer to him, a strange connection drawing him in. "What do you mean?"

Tom's eyes met Harry's, the red swirling like warm, fresh blood. "I've lost control, Harry."

Trembling, Harry laid a hand on top of Tom's. He relaxed slowly. His thumb rubbing slow circles on his flesh. "Tom..."

There was a long, heavy pause. "... I'm scared," Tom's voice cracked. Harry couldn't believe it. Tom wasn't afraid of anything. Certainly not the violence of his own violent people.

"Not of this, you're not. You can't be," said Harry sternly.

Tom tore away from him, pain contorting his handsome features. "Harry, I open up to you and you can't even listen." Anger cracked in his tone.

"I am listening. I know you better than anyone – and you're not afraid of these people. They're afraid of you." Harry grabbed Tom's arm, his stomach jumping at the strong contact.

Tom stood, letting out a long breath. "I'm not sure that's true anymore."

Harry jumped up from the couch and put himself in front of Tom. He couldn't let him give in. At least, Tom could keep a semblance of control over his people – if those crazy people were left to their own devices. "Make it true. You have to."

Tom's eyes darkened, the sharp red mudding to a near black. Like a gust of wind, his magical power seemed to blow out of his fingers and his lips wafting over Harry, making him cold. Making him shiver.

With a move so swift and smooth Harry didn't see it happen, Tom pushed him against the wall, his head knocking into an old portrait. Harry gasped at the sharp pain. Tom's chest rose and fell with a heavy, violent desperation.

"Tom – what are you doing?" Harry's voice shook as Tom's magic radiated so strongly Harry was sure it would set him on fire. Engulf him in green flame. Turn his skin to ash.

"Silence," Tom hissed in his ear – but it wasn't in English. No it was that sweet, terrible language they shared. Parseltongue. "Just shut up, Harry."

Tom's mouth met his with no hesitation, no patience, not even a lick of gentleness. It was all fire and sparks and teeth and pain. Harry kissed back. It was hard not to. Not to give in. Even if he hated it about himself Harry had always been attracted to Tom's power.

"Yes..." breathed Harry.

Tom bit down hard on his neck. "Do you like that?"

"Yes." Harry's eyes fluttered shut, closing out anything but the feel of their skin and lips meeting and parting just to meet again.

"I don't care," said Tom again in parseltongue. Then his voice lowered and returned to English. "Harry?" Tom whispered hot against his ear, making his knees wobble. "I need you to help me"

Harry kissed Tom's mouth. "I want to help you. Tell me how I can help you."

There was a painful, torturous silence before Tom's hands went to his Harry's face and squeezed tightly. Desperation written all over his face, he growled. "Call me Voldemort."

Harry stomach flipped. Why would? What was he? Tom didn't go by Voldemort anymore. He hadn't since he returned. They all referred to him as Lord Riddle. Harry had never asked why. "What?"

Tom leaned his head against Harry, the fingers gripping into his skin made him feel like he would never be released. That was possessed by Tom.

"Harry, please." Tom crushed Harry's lips, slamming him against the wall over and over with the kind of control and anger and passion that Harry hadn't experienced since the first time he and Tom were together. It was getting swept away, a rush, an obsession that made the rest of the world blur, mud, into non-existence. It was the kind of kiss that made Harry feel small. Small in a good way. In the kind of way that let Harry tuck himself away into the kisses and touches until he disappeared. Nothing else existed. Nothing but the man whose hands and lips were every where recklessly attacking and tugging at the clothes on his body.

Tom had lost control. And maybe... Harry couldn't believe what he was thinking but maybe just maybe. It was exactly what Tom needed. To remember his power. If that's what it took for Tom to stop the violent outbreak that was certain to reach Harry's citizens as well then he didn't care what it took. What he had to say.

"V-voldemort," he whispered against Tom's ear, still unable to believe what he said as he said it. Tom groaned and kissed him harshly, wildly, feverishly, as if it could be the last time.

It can't be the last time.

"Say it again." Tom breathed against his lips, his hands braced against the wall behind Harry, their bodies pushed so tightly together oxygen couldn't find its way into Harry's lungs. Tom covered Harry's mouth with his, ripping at his hair, smashing and smudging his glasses. His hands went beneath Harry's legs, picking him up so Harry could lock his ankles at the small of Tom's back. A hot, wet mouth crashed against Harry's neck.

"Voldemort." Harry growled.

Tom's hands dropped out from underneath Harry, almost making him fall. His hands gripped the wall as Tom backed a way a devious smirk on her face.

"We've got work to do," said Tom.

Harry forced air into his lungs, trying to remember what it was they had to do because all Harry could think about was getting his hands back on Tom Riddle. "N-now?"

"Yes."

Harry looked up at Tom, glaring, his heart a frantic beating mess. "You can't - that's just cruel."

"Yes it is. Now make yourself presentable. You look like a bloody mess." Tom smoothed his hair. Harry had no idea how Tom managed to stay so put-together after what just happened.

Harry adjusted his shirt, tucking it back into his pants. "Shut up."

Draco stood in the hallway outside the Minister's Office with Severus. The Quidditch World Cup Team had arrived early. Apparently, Colin, the Minister's assistant, had changed the date and not informed the rest of the staff.

"Where is the Minister?" asked Severus, running his hand through his greasy black hair.

Draco shrugged. "How would I know?" It wasn't like the Minister informed his press liaison of every move he made.

Severus groaned and slumped down on a leather sofa, his black eyes angry. "If the Minister isn't here, I would like to know why I spent the last twenty four hours learning about Quidditch?"

Because any self respecting wizard should know about quidditch.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "He'll be here."

"No he won't." Hermione stepped into the room, her formerly bushy hair now short, perfectly kept. Draco hid the smile that always seemed to creep on his face whenever she entered a room.

Severus stood up. "What? Where is he?"

"Negotiating," she replied, sweeping past Draco, her rosy perfume making it hard for him to speak. He had tried to ignore his crush on Hermione but it was just getting worse. If he wasn't thinking about work, he was thinking about her.

"With Riddle?" asked Severus.

Draco leaned against the wall, trying to create some separation between him and Hermione. She may have forgiven him politically but he knew she would never let him in that way. She could never trust someone who had hurt her so much. "I thought we didn't negotiate with their kind."

Hermione sighed. "I don't think it's that kind of negotiation."

Draco didn't understand what she meant. "Well, what kind is it?"

The door to the Minister's office opened again. Tonks entered, her hair slightly mussed. "He's back," she breathed.

"And?" Draco asked.

She pressed her lips together, her face hard. "Riddle is with him."

Harry remembered the first time he heard of the security breech. He'd only been Minister for six months. One of the assistants in the legal department had seen him. Tom Riddle, sitting in one of the corridors smoking a cigarette. Harry had no idea how Riddle had managed to get past the wards – or why. As far as they'd figured, no one had ever been hurt. But he couldn't permit Riddle to come and go in his country as he pleased.

Harry had sent his patronus to Riddle, asking him to meet at the chateau in Paris. Riddle was already there when Harry arrived, sitting smugly on the couch, his arm stretched over the leather back.

"You can't just walk into the Ministry whenever you want," said Harry, slamming the door.

Riddle stood and glanced around the room. "I'm not in the Ministry."

Harry's eyes narrowed. He was not in the mood of Riddle's attitude. "You were earlier."

"I was not-" he replied smoothly.

Liar.

"Riddle," Harry shouted.

"Potter." There was a mocking smirk on Riddle's handsome face that churned Harry's stomach. It really was unfair that anyone that heartless and cruel should have a face and a body like that.

Harry sighed. "Stay out of my country. I stay out of yours."

"Because you're afraid." Tom huffed, his nose lifted in superiority.

Harry shook his head. He was not afraid. Death Eater territory was cold and dark and you had to pay to use the public toilets. "No because it's gross."

Riddle disappeared into black smoke then reappeared directly in front of Harry. Not a breath away. "Don't make fun of a man's country."

Harry stepped even closer, forcing eye contact. "You're not a man."

Riddle grinned, then lifted on of his long fingers to the side of Harry's neck and traced a slow circle. "Then what am I?" he whispered in Harry's ear.

"I – you're – a -" Why couldn't he get words to come out normally?

"Potter, speechless. You are quite beautiful when you're mouth is shut." Riddle tossed the lock of hair that covered Harry's scar out of the way. A shiver trickled through his blood, a feeling he wanted to ignore but was as real and strong as anything he'd ever felt.

You killed my parents. You killed my friends.

"Stay out of the Ministry – and out of my country," snapped Harry, ripping away from Riddle's clutches.

"Or what?"

Harry's eyes flashed to Riddle. "You step one foot on my soil. I'll consider that an act of war – and if we went to war you'd lose half your territory and you know it."

"Then I guess we'll just have to see each other here." Riddle's lips pressed together then painted a smile on his handsome stupid face.

"Don't count on it."

Harry couldn't even count the amount of times he'd been back since then.

It was always strange being around Riddle when other people were there. He had to keep track of his hands and his eyes at all times. They were meeting secretly, not in his office, but in a dark room hidden somewhere beneath the Department of Mysteries.

Harry looked at Riddle who was sitting with his legs straddled over a metal chiar. "What Death Eaters do you have that are a hundred percent loyal to you? No matter what."

"Bellatrix Lestrange," he replied.

A pang of jealously shot through his stomach. He knew Riddle had no feelings for Bellatrix but she was a loyal servant – and she was in love with him.

"Comforting..." muttered Harry, his eyes flashing to Riddle. He saw Riddle bit back a smirk.

"What?" Severus's eyes narrowed. He kept himself as far from Riddle as possible like a bat hanging in the dark corner.

"Nothing." Both Harry and Riddle said at the same time. They had to watch themselves...

Harry was thankful that Riddle dived right back into matter at hand. "And then there are the Death Eaters who don't want extreme blood purity to take over. The Malfoys – and I've got a few half-bloods."

Draco had been standing silently by Severus, his thin face solemn, pointed down. He stepped out of the shadows and said. "I can help."

"You're not military," said Tonks quickly. Harry didn't even have time to answer. Besides, he was surprised. Draco usually did everything he could to avoid anything relating to the Death Eaters or his family.

"But I am a Malfoy – and a former Death Eater." His grey eyes shot to Riddle. "Though under no circumstances will I take direct orders from you."

"Draco-" Hermione's voice was soft, her gaze lingering unnaturally long on Draco's frame.

Riddle leaned over to me. "Are they together?" he asked.

"No," said Hermione, but her voice cracked on the words.

"Yeah. Okay." Riddle rolled his eyes and Harry kicked his leg when no one was looking.

Harry stood in front of Riddle, hoping he could express what he wanted to with just the curve of his lips and the warmth in his eyes. "You have to go yourself, you know that right?"

Riddle paused. "Yes."

Tonks, arms crossed, said. "We can send aurors."

Riddle shook his head. Ron would freak anyway if Harry asked him to send their friends to help the Death Eaters.

"I can go," said Harry softly.

Riddle bit down on his lip. "I need to do this myself." He half-smiled, glancing to the other people in the room. "At least I need them to think I did."

The plan was to let the Death Eaters into Ministry territory and then back across their border. The so-called true pureblood rebellion was blocked from the inside by protective spells that allowed the dark wizards to attack the half-blood town. But the protective spells on the Ministry side were much weaker and wouldn't give Riddle away when they broke.

"We shouldn't let Death Eaters into this country," said Severus.

Harry turned to him, back straight. "We did it before and we survived." Not that the state dinner had gone very well.

"How? I'll never know," snarled Severus, a biting hatred in his voice. His face burned scarlet as he glared at Riddle, his hand on his wand. Riddle stood from his chair, reaching for his own wand.

Harry stepped between them, his back to Riddle. "Severus, I think you should leave."

With a huff, Severus shook his head and pushed past Draco to the door. A venomous gleam in his eye, he turned and spoke directly to Harry. "He killed your mother. In cold blood. He looked her in the eye and murdered her. Don't forget that, Minister."

Harry swallowed, a sudden rage pounding through him that he had to fight back. Severus was right, of course. But it wasn't like he had forgiven Riddle or forgotten what he did all those years ago. It was just that Harry couldn't hold on to the bitterness like that. It would eat him up, tear him to pieces. He had to let go.

Draco stood in his office, putting things in order for Mary to take over while he was away. He heard a knock at the door. His mouth went dry when he saw Hermione standing in the door frame.

"You sent the Quidditch World Cup team home?" she asked.

He nodded. "We gave them a picture with the deputy Minister." Dean Thomas had been more than willing to take over for the Minister on that one.

Her heels clacked on the floor as she made her way towards him. "I'm sure he was thrilled."

"Actually, yeah." Draco couldn't look directly at her and he didn't know why. When had things changed between them? There wasn't a moment. It was a slow fall.

"You can't do this," she suddenly said.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, his heart thrumming against his ribcage. "Why not, Hermione?"

Her face twisted together. Her thinking face. "It's not safe. We need you here. Who cares? I'm not sure why Minster is getting all involved in this to be honest but he's the Minister. I gave him my two cents. He chose not to listen. That's all I can do for him."

Draco wished he could stay. He didn't want to risk his life. His life here was what he wanted. Getting up and seeing Hermione's face everyday, but his family could be in danger. "I have to go."

She stood taller. "I can order you to stay."

"Then I'll hand you my resignation." That was the last thing he wanted to do. He loved it here. Being a part of something good. Making up for what he'd done in his past. "They're going to come after my parents because of me. Because I'm a blood traitor."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not your responsibility."

Draco threw on his cloak. "Why does it matter so much to you anyway?"

Hermione's eyes held with his for one beat, two beats. Their chests rising and falling in a slow rhythm. "You're a good press liaison," she muttered. Draco's face fell. If that's how she wanted to play it then fine.

"Okay," he said, pushing past Hermione to the door. He had to fight the urge to grab her shoulder, push her against the wall and kiss her until both of them forgot who they were.

When his hand was on the door handle, Hermione said. "I'm coming with you."

Riddle had summoned Harry to the chateau in France. It had been three months since the last time they were there. He had been hopeful that Riddle had given up on his desire to meet there but it seemed he had not.

"What do you need, Riddle?" asked Harry as he stepped inside the room, letting the door shut behind him.

Riddle sat on the couch a chessboard floating in mid-air in front of him. "Wizard's chess?"

Merlin, he had to be kidding. "You made me come all the way to France so we could play wizard's chess. This is the last time-" snarled Harry. Riddle had absolutely no respect for his time or-

"Tell me you didn't a break? Being the leader isn't as much fun as you think it's going to be. It's like half the country couldn't get dressed in the morning if you didn't send out a press release telling them how to do it. It's utterly exhausting, don't you agree?"

Of course Harry agreed but he wasn't going to say so to Riddle's face. And being with him wasn't much a break anyway. He found their conversations exhausting.

"I'm not playing wizard's chess with you." Harry turned toward the door. Riddle slowly stood up from the couch. He could hear his footsteps coming from behind.

Riddle leaned his chin on Harry's shoulder, making him tense. "You know what you are, Potter? You're a spoil sport. You're a giant rain cloud that bursts everyone's bubble." He spun around in front of him, smiling, looking damn gorgeous which just made Harry madder.

"That's a hell of a mixed metaphor," replied Harry.

"Come on, Minister. Doesn't all that self-righteous brooding and angst get tiresome after a while?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I'm not brooding. I'm pissed. There's a huge difference."

"What are you pissed about?"

"Well you see there was this guy. He killed my parents, stalked me pretty much my entire childhood, hunted down my friends and then invited me to play wizard's chess with him."

Riddle laughed, a cold sound that somehow made heat rise up in Harry's chest. "Sounds like a pretty great guy. I'll bet he's good looking too."

"Just to make things easier for me," Harry spat, not thinking about what he was saying before he said it. Yes. Riddle was phenomenal looking but what did that mean.

Riddle grinned, all devious and smirky. "You think I'm sexy."

"I didn't say that."

Riddle's fingers gripped Harry's tie, running down the fabric with a soft elegance that made Harry's legs shake. "You want me," he purred.

Harry grabbed Riddle's hand to pull it away. "I'm leaving."

Riddle bit down on his lip and let out a small laugh as he blocked Harry's way out. "The Minister of Magic has got it bad for-"

Harry could not take the teasing anymore. There was only one way he could think of to shut Riddle's stupid mouth. He slammed his lips against Riddle's, struck by the warmth, by the spark shooting through his body exploding in his skin like millions of spells breaking him apart.

When he pulled away, still unable to process to what he did, he looked at Riddle who looked twice as surprised, mouth hanging open, still wet and red from the kiss.

"Speechless, Riddle," said Harry.

Harry and Riddle stood alone in the dark basement room. He'd sent the rest of his staff on their way.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go?" asked Harry, his hand reaching for Riddle's in a stolen moment of tenderness.

Riddle stiffened and pulled away, his eyes stern and serious. "I told you, Harry."

Harry looked down at his feet, unsure of what to say. "I know – I just."

Riddle grinned and let out a small laugh. "You're worried about me."

Of course he wasn't. Of course he was. "No. You can't die remember."

Riddle's hand fell against Harry's cheek, brushing a stray bit of hair out of his eyes. "Because I keep a piece of myself with you." His thumb lay on Harry's forehead. A cool sensation spread through him. It used to hurt when he was close to Riddle. Now it just felt good right. Riddle leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to Harry's scar.

"I hate you," breathed Harry as he pulled away. He did. Harry hated how Riddle confused him, how he made him want, how he made him feel. Hated, hated, hated that he was falling in love with him.

Riddle shook his head then met Harry's gaze. "I hate you too."

And the cold war was over.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Sorry this chapter took so long. It was really hard to write and I don't know why. Please review if you get a chance. I love to hear your thoughts and I respond to all the reviews. Thanks again!