Warnings: death, love, ambiguous relationships, shaman!TMR, spirit!HP, dead/ghost!shaman!LV

Pairing: LV/HP (Lord Voldemort/Harry Potter), TMR/HP (Tom Marvolo Riddle/Harry Potter)

Summary: "Tell me something, Harry."

"Anything."

"Do you love him more than you loved me?"

In which the long dead ghost of Voldemort questions his once-partner, spirit Harry Potter, of his relationship with his descendant, Tom Riddle. The answers he gets are not necessarily that which he wants, but under the sky of the setting sun it's difficult to say he isn't satisfied.

Harry is, after all, better at keeping promises than he is.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter series - J.K. Rowling

"I see you're getting along well with my cute little descendent," is the first thing Voldemort says once he and his once-partner are alone.

Harry laughs. "He's a lot like you, master. Still a lot to learn, but I think he knows more than you think."

"He's a thousand years too early to consider himself equal to me," the ghost sniffs. "A million years too early to think himself worthy of you."

Harry sighs. "Oh, master…"

They both turn to look out toward the sky. Positioned on the high cliff-side, the fading sun is visible without obstruction, and the orange-pink tinge of the sky is irrefutably fresh here. There's something peaceful between them, partners in one life long past. A ghost of a shaman and his once bonded spirit—his once bonded shade who he'd helped evolve into a Manes.

But Voldemort had never been so sure if it was him who had helped. Harry is plenty strong on his own—the spirit has simply never acknowledged it. Probably a remnant from his past life that Harry has no memories of.

"Tell me something, Harry."

"Anything," the Manes replies softly.

"Do you love him more than you loved me?"

There is a pause. Harry considers the question carefully, eyes fixed on the yonder even as his focus is on the one beside him. "I don't think they can compare," he says at last, "My love for you, and my love for Tom…they're too different."

"How so?"

"My love for you and my existence…are the same thing. If I had never loved you, I don't think I would still exist. I think I would've faded away as a shade long ago. If you hadn't saved me—well, I think you know. I owe you many things, even though I've probably paid them back a hundred times over by now. And I don't think my love for you has ever ended, master—Voldemort."

"I always wondered," begins Voldemort, "how you felt when I gave everything up. When I lost my powers. When I…when I even forgot you…"

"When you fell in love with someone else," Harry continues, "when you got married. When you started a family. When you grew old, surrounded by your children and your children's children. When you died with a smile. Even though you couldn't see me, I was there beside you. I never left, master."

The ghost takes a moment to collect himself. "I apologize."

"Why ever would you apologize? You haven't wronged me in any way, master," the Manes says, turning to Voldemort with an honest smile. "As long as you were happy, I was happy. Even if you couldn't see me, even if I couldn't speak to you, I was happy. Why else do you think I've watched over your descendents for all these years? I could have moved on. I could have simply wandered. But I didn't. Master, I was happy."

"I broke our vow."

"It doesn't matter. Our vow meant nothing if you weren't happy, master. And I could see how that life—the life as a shaman—ate away at you. You were suffering, and I could do nothing to help you. I think it was for the best in the end that you lost your powers—even if it meant forgetting your love for me, at least you got another chance to live the life you never could've." Harry turns away to look back at the drooping sun. "Besides, you were living. I was dead. A love like ours…it could've never made you truly happy."

"Then what of Tom?" Voldemort asks. "He too is living. You are still dead. Do you think history will repeat itself?"

Harry pauses. "…No, I don't think it will. Tom, though he is similar to you, is also very different. It isn't in a bad way, or a good way, just… different. I don't think he'd make the same choices."

The conversation stills. Both of their concentrations are on each other, even as their gazes are out to the infinite sky. If this had been another life, Voldemort would've held him, and he would've leaned into a strong back without reservation. But it isn't another life, it's this life, so they stand side by side instead, and Harry does not touch him nor does Voldemort make a move to do as he would've.

There is a physical gap between them, but their hearts have none.

"I was happy," Voldemort says, "I loved her. I loved my children. But mine as well—my love for you and my existence were one, even when I didn't remember you. If I had never loved you so deeply, never kept loving you even as I forgot who I loved, I don't think I could've been as happy as I was. You said I saved you. You know you saved me."

"We saved each other," Harry agrees, "the shade who could not remember, and the child blessed with life from death. I'm…glad. Yes, I'm glad, master—that I was able to help you, in the end."

"Of course you did. We were bonded—even when that bond faded away when I lost my powers, I felt your protection. I didn't know what it was, but I felt…safe. As if I had nothing to fear from the world, even while I was dying. That was you, was it not?"

The Manes smiles. "Yes, master. I promised myself I would always protect you, as you protected me. And so I did."

Voldemort nods, taking the statement as fact without batting an eye. "And Tom?" he says, bringing the conversation back to its point.

Harry stares up at the sky and silently wonders at its gradual shifting. He sees the outline of the moon, watches the slow drift of the clouds, feels the muted blow of the winds. His ancient robes flutter, even as his body remains transparent. In this place, he looks even more timeless than he does amongst the modern world—one with nature, a guardian of the border between life and death.

And yet…

"Tom," Harry whispers, tasting the name on his tongue. He repeats himself louder for his companion's sake. "Tom. Tom is…"

"Is?"

Harry turns fully to Voldemort, this time. "I've always loved you," he says softly, "and I don't think I'll ever stop. You're part of my existence, master. So integral a piece to me I don't think I can exist without the thought of you. Without the remembrance of you. You were always mine, and I was always yours. In that way, we are forever one being—such that none could take that away from us. I see it in your eyes, master, you know—you understand what I mean. And you agree with me. I know.

"But master, this world is so large. I thought I saw it in its entirety when I traveled it with you, all over continents and even beneath the sea. We went everywhere together, I thought, and I thought I knew what it was all about. I thought I knew enough to say I knew the world. But I don't think I was right. I don't think I know it at all. Because a life only lasts so long, and when one life passes, another begins—changing the world slowly but forever. And I think—I think as a Manes, as a shade who has evolved into something stronger, something wiser, something timeless, I think I need to take the chance and see it all over again, with different eyes now.

"I've lived in the past for so long, frozen in place without understanding what progression is, that I feel out of place. Improper. And before I pass on, I want to remedy that. When I move on, I want to say I've become part of this world again. I want to say I've seen the present, and then I want to tell you everything once I see you again. And—and—and—" Harry swallows the jumble of words that wanted to spill out of his throat, instead choosing to say only the most important out of the lot, "I want to see it with Tom. Because I love him.

"I love him like the stars in the sky, the way we stand on the ground instead of float in the air. I love him like the beat of the waves as they ebb and flow, like how night turns to day and day turns to night. I love him because reason exists and things in this universe just are! You—I love you like how a person exists, truly, definitely, and without question. The way I love him—the way I love Tom—it's like the way I love this world, like a newborn babe opening his eyes for the first time. And I want to keep loving him until my time here is over, and I return to the embryo of the skies with you.

"Is that—is that okay?"

Voldemort does not speak for awhile. Harry is unperturbed, and waits for an answer with an unwavering gaze.

Then, the ghost slowly nods. "I'll wait for you," he says. "A hundred—two hundred—three hundred years, even. I've already waited five hundred. I can wait a few more. Take all the time you need, Harry, and come back to me with many stories to tell of you and my cute little descendent."

Harry smiles, leans over, and bridges the gap with an embrace. "Yes, I will."

Thank you.

"Speaking of that little descendent of mine, let us return to him. Most likely he's running a trench into the ground pacing after you deserted him."

Harry laughs. "Master! I didn't desert him…though, I think you might be right. Tom does seem to worry about the most inane things. I've never understood that silly human concept of jealousy. It seems ever so pointless."

Voldemort shoots him a dry look as they begin to walk back. "I better wish my cute descendent luck for dealing with you. I've almost forgotten how completely oblivious you can be."

"Hm? Did you say something, master?"

"Of course not, Harry. Come, I can see him already in the distance doing exactly what I predicted."

"Ah, we'd better hurry then—before he goes on a rampage." Harry moves to run forward, and Voldemort expects he'll have to catch up at a slower pace but is pleasantly surprised when the spirit catches his hand instead and drags him with him.

Harry will not forget. It is a promise, and Voldemort knows his partner is better at keeping those than he is.

So this oneshot is actually from a discontinued plot bunny that I never got around to posting where TMR gains the power to see spirits in the summer of his sixth year, and realizes he is a shaman from the blood of the Gaunt family. He then meets Harry Potter, who is the self-proclaimed guardian spirit of the Gaunt family, as well as the once right-hand man of Voldemort, a powerful shaman who was said to command ten thousand spirits (and is also Tom's ancestor).

This scene is from a moment between Harry and Voldemort right after Tom has called Voldemort from the dead to assist him in learning a difficult shamanic technique. Tom has been shooed away so Harry and Voldemort can talk.

Again, this plot bunny has been discontinued, so don't expect any updates; this is just a oneshot! Sorry.

Thanks for all your support, and hope you enjoyed~

Sincerely,

R.R.