Affinity

Summary: Harry and Voldemort are eachother's obsession, destinies, death, life; They are bound to one another by fate. They will never escape eachother. The imprint is unfadeable, the pain unwashable, and the hate forever there. Like a song, a lullaby, a crimson kiss. SLASH

Warnings: Some slash, language, and dark undertones.

A/N: Got this idea from the songs "I Must Be Dreaming" and "Understanding" by Evanescence.

Disclaimer: Do not own.

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The night was silent and unmoving. The light from the moon shined down upon the many houses. The leaves rustled in the light wind, and blew around, scampered, dispersed. The change in weather that had been predicted still had not come; The air still had a cold tinge to it, but it felt warmer than was natural at this time of the year. October usually presented the slow transcend in cold temperatures, as winter approached at a steady rate. But not this year.

Harry Potter stared unblinkingly through the mist-clouded window, in an almost dream-like state. He knew he should sleep, especially after the hard day of hunting Horcruxes, but his mind was simply restless. Most of the time, he would have wondered why, but not tonight; Tonight, he knew, as he had known he would many nights before. Tiredness clawed at his eyes, but he could not sleep. At least not yet. First, he had something he had to do, a place he had to go.

He didn't know why he had the sudden urge to go there, or why he knew it was completely risky to do so, all he knew was that he had to. Something was telling him to go. Unpressing his cheek to the glass, Harry slowly and quietly slipped into his trainers, careful not to wake up his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, who were fast asleep on the floor beside him. But as he stood and slowly tip-toed towards the door, he knew they would not awaken; Quickening his pace, he reached the door and pulled the knob before stepping out into the hall. For the fleetest moment, he looked back; He knew he would not be back here. He knew he would never see them again. And they would not know it, would awaken to find him gone, and without knowing why. He would be long dead before then, and he wouldn't have to deal with the pain anymore. His time had come at last.

He stepped out into the cold alleyway, shivering as a sudden gust of October wind blew against his face. Cringing, he squinted and stopped in the middle of the garden. He wanted to look back one final time, but he felt that if he did, he would lose the stregnth to do what he must. It was easier, for the better, this way. No goodbyes and no explanations, no one to stop him. Although everything inside him was screaming to go back, his mind was set, and without a second's hesitance, concentrated on his destination - his final destination - and Disapparated.

He knew it worked before he even opened his eyes.

The change in smell and the conditions explained that much. He opened his eyes again, raising an arm to sheild his face from the tempest; A raging storm was blowing him, and he knew calm would find him soon, and set off.

The further he walked, the less ferocity the storm produced, and he did not stop until he reached the marble stones that lay before a broken home, and had to stop to catch his breath. He felt as if he were being suffocated, experiencing asphixiation; He felt his knees give way as he fell before the headstone, and had to control his urge to break down as he traced his parent's names, etched into a stone too early, that he knew lay asleep beneath his feet. The two people who had ever loved and cared for him most, were lying as bones, or ashes now, beneath him, and he felt the tears run down his face as he finally succumbed to his emotions. He cared not if someone within the villiage of Godric's Hollow heard him; His grief was unimportant to everyone else.

No one had bothered to ever ask him if he wished he had his parents. No one bothered to ask him how it felt to be hugged by a woman who wasn't your mother, and the longing to have one. No one ever asked him what it was like to lose the two people who ever loved him, yet he never knew. All that mattered to everyone was the jagged scar upon his forehead, and the destiny for which he was famous for. A destiny he never wanted. A life he never wished he had. Now he wished he was lying beneath the many leaves and feet of ground hiding his parent's remains from him, and he dug his nails deep into the soil, trying to reach them, as sobs finally erupted from his throat, and the tears fell unknowing onto the marble stone, and his pleas fell upon deaf ears; He knew they would never hear him. They would never hear him tell them that he loved them. And he would never hear it from them, in turn.

No one ever asked him what if was like to be haunted by a shadow he could never escape from, the shadow both within him and out.

No one ever asked him if he wanted to escape.

And he did.

He felt so cheated, so betrayed and so unloved. No one asked what that was like!

The last of the tears fell, drying into the soiled ground, and he stood, taking deep rasping breaths as he calmed himself. He was about to turn and leave, when his scar burned quite suddenly, and he did not wince, or give any notification that he had acknowledged it; Instead, he turned, and spoke in a calm, controlled voice, "I knew you'd be here.."

There was a rustle of leaves, and then Voldemort stepped out of the shadows, looking ghostly beneath the light. "As I knew you'd be."

Harry said nothing, but stood still, and waited, waited for the green light and the triumphant voice, but it never came. Voldemort began to walk slowly towards him, frowning. "Have you been crying?"

Harry stiffened. "Why do you care?"

"Morales, Harry, are a necessity in everyday life."

"Wow, didn't think you'd think they're fitting for you and all, with your whole evil personality."

Voldemort seemed to drench this statement, and instead looked around, with what it seemed was mild interest. "So we're back here again..."

Harry remained silent, and watched the man before him, waiting for him to accost, feeling slightly afraid. He had never questioned what it was like to die..

"Where are your friends?"

The change in subject threw Harry off. "What?"

"Your friends," Voldemort repeated, coming ever so closer. "Where are they..? You seem very much alone, and unaccompanied."

"I am, they're back home." Harry announced, taking a step back in retreat.

Voldemort eyed him irly. "And why, may I ask, would you be doing wandering around at night unprotected for?"

"I know nothing's going to get in your way," said Harry with a one-shouldered shrug. "Why put more people in danger? You wouldn't resist killing them if they tried to protect me."

"Quite true," Voldemort said, and he inclined his head at the broken house behind Harry. "Feel like having a home-coming?"

Harry snorted, "If you call this a happy reunion."

For the first time, Voldemort's face turned into something like a smile. "Oh, Harry. I thought you'd be happy to see your mother and father again."

Harry gave a bitter laugh. "Happy? You don't think this is hard for me? This isn't like some sentimental graduation or something, feeling both elated and sorrowed; It's a complete emotional blow to me. I'm not really seeing them, am I? They're dead, and you caused it. Don't you think I'd rather be inside that house, wrapped in my mom's arms? Don't you think I'd rather be out, playing Quidditch with my dad? Don't you think I wished my life was different?"

Harry looked up, and stared into the serpentine's eyes of ruby, which he loathed so much. "But you wouldn't know, would you? You can never comprehend something like that. You never even tried. You know how many years I was neglected and treated like shit? You know what I could have done? I could have turned out like you, a murderer and someone who hates everyone just because he was hated, but I didn't. I have that possibility, everyone does, to walk the dark path, but I never have; It's not because I know love, because I very much don't. You forget that I only had it for a year, before you took it away, and I never felt it at the Dursley's. I never knew it until I was older. I could have chose hate..."

Voldemort was watching him, red eyes blank, face stony; It was expressionless.

"But love lived in my veins, you know that. How could I deny what I had been given - life - after I so narrowly escaped you? Do you know how many times I've contemplated killing myself, just so I don't have to die before you do it first? You don't know. No one does. No one's ever bothered to ask, or understand, yet I continue to live, not because you will it, but because I do. I've known all along that I would die at your hand's. I've known all along I could never run away from you, or turn away from fate. It's a useless fight." Harry stared into the depths of Voldemort's eyes, searching the elder man's soul.

Something like emotion flickered in Voldemort's eyes. "Yes, you know you can never run from me."

He prowled closer, like a predator stalking it's prey, and Harry couldn't help himself and backtracked. His back hit the bars of the fence. He hadn't realized that his vacancy had been occupied, and there was no more room. His heart was pounding crazily, as if it were trying to burst out of his body. He could not understand how Voldemort could not hear it; He felt most of the villiage could hear the rapid beating of the artery that kept him consistantly alive. But he knew it would not be long before it was stopped.

"Do you fear me, Harry?"

Voldemort was so close now that he might as well as be akin with Harry's own body; Harry shifted underneath the weight, and the pressure of the fence, knowing that his back would be bruised before morning, and knew now that Voldemort could feel the thumping of his frightened heart. He felt as though he might hyperventilate, and it was only with an easily facaded voice that he whispered. "Do it. Kill me. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

Voldemort frowned in what appeared to be a disappointed gesture. "Not really."

"Then why?" Harry asked through barred teeth. "I don't think you came here to comfort me."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows, "Would you like me to?"

"No." Said Harry immediately.

Voldemort smirked. "I can, you know..."

He raised a finger and slid it across Harry's jaw-line. Harry flinched away at his touch.

"I can be the comfort you never got..."

Harry was extremely uncomfortable as Voldemort ran a slender hand over his cheek and caressed it. "S-Stop.."

But Voldemort appeared not to have heard, or else chose to ignore him, because he entangled the front of Harry's hair with his other hand, almost gently.

"Yes, I can comfort you.."

"S-Stop!"

Voldemort hissed in a tight growl, and suddenly wrapped his arms around the front of Harry's jacket collar and lifted him off his feet, then pushed him forcefully against the gate. Harry yelped in pain and felt as if his back had broken, sliding to the ground, unable to stand upright. Voldemort kneeled down in front of him as Harry panted, trying to easen the pain, with a seductive look upon his face that Harry never saw on it or liked one bit. "Let me comfort you, Harry..."

Harry had no time to protest as Voldemort shoved his slithering tounge into his mouth. Immediately on impact, he gagged, but the tounge did not retract, and instead weaved in and out of his mouth, forceful and hard, and then down his throat, and Harry felt a sudden urge to vomit. He was almost half-tempted to accede, as it continued to slide down his throat, for how long he didn't know, but he did not, and was content to breathe when the tounge finally pulled out. Fighting against the urge to be sick and effort not to choke, he coughed, his insides sore. But Harry had no time for repreivement as Voldemort lowered his face to his neck, and gnawed. Harry jumped from the pain, and clung at the earth beneath his hands, his nails digging in deep, as his head pressed firmly against the steel gate, feeling as if it might crack. After a moment, Voldemort relinquished, red blood dripping from his lipless mouth. He licked it clean, and gripped Harry's jaw in his skeletal hand.

"Your blood is my sweet juices, Harry; I need it. I need you... you.. you are my dream, lullaby, my obsession, my fate; How odd that we are what motivates the other, strives for him to live, to fight. We are immortal enemies, Harry. But you are my crimson kiss, the light in the dark. You are mine. I have the right to feel you, all that you are, to complete all that I am. You are my sanguine life. You are my affinity. You are the lullaby I hum when I go to sleep at night.."

He stood, then, unclenching Harry's sore jaw, and looked down at the boy. "And you will be my deserted song when I visit the grave that holds your body, when I stand above the ashes that was once you. I will kill you, one day. But for now, I'm content with my lullaby, until the song comes calling."

He turned and swept away from Harry, his cloak swirling in the wind, and Disapparated with a loud crack.

Harry felt tear tracks run down his face, and fought to stand. He was cold now. But he knew now he forever would be. The sun, which had warmed him so many times before, was now cold upon his back, like the constant imprint upon his forehead, like the shadow that walked with him as he sat alone in the dark; Voldemort was forever there, in life and in death, and nothing would change that.

The song was eternal.

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Well, that's it. Was in the mood for a one-shot, so, yeah. Hope you enjoyed. Please read and review:)

Tainted Visions.