1The Heart Of Everything
Rating: M (Language, slash, violence, dark undertones.)
Summary: Sequel to In Sleep He Sang To Me. All is fair in love and war, and with the resurrection of the Dark Lord, Harry Potter finds himself trapped between both. SLASH. LVXHP.
A/N: Yay! Finally got this started! Hope you all like the sequel:) LOL, I know I actually had said that the title was going to be either "Fear The Dark" or "Behind Enemy Lines", but I thought this would be better. Especially now that things are going to get a lot more complicated for The Boy Who Lived and The Dark Lord. And thanks to everyone who read In Sleep He Sang To Me!
"No, you'll never be alone. When darkness comes, I'll light the night with stars. Hear my whispers in the dark. No, you'll never be alone. When darkness comes, you know I'm never far. Hear my whispers in the dark. Whispers in the dark." – Whispers In The Dark, Skillet
Chapter 1: Whispers In The Dark
The night was cold and chilly; a raging blizzard of rain padded the ground with ferocity, the small droplets colliding with the pavement harder than what it's nature would appear. Leaves hung from the trees almost limply, while droplets of rain fell from their sides. He could hardly even hear his own breathing, barely acknowledged his own existence; the sound was so loud, so distracting, he felt almost disconnected from the world; Although for a time, he had been. But no longer.
Though he was now the mere ghostly phantom he had been nearly seventeen years ago, he would soon regain his body. Except this time, he knew it would not be one of his followers – the Death eaters – or that idiotic Peter Pettigrew; No, now it would be the boy, the boy to which he had died for, the boy who had – ironically – been the reason he had experienced this in the first place. He had caused this seventeen years ago, and he had been the cause again. But this time, it had been he himself who had caused it more than anybody.
He had taken a curse – a deadly curse – for Harry, the boy who should have been dead when he had first turned his wand upon him. But he had lived. And now he lived while he had died, and over the course of these two long years in exile, clinging to the one hope that he would find a way to get in contact with Harry, he had realized that the prophecy had indeed been fulfilled – but against their wishes, and more importantly, against their will. Harry had not killed him; he had chosen to die himself.
He knew he could easily have let Harry taken the blow, disposed of the little brat who was his enemy once and for all, and killed Dumbledore with ease, no matter how strong his dark magic seemed to be, but something – his conscience – had pulled him back He had finally admitted his feelings, had come to accept them, and acted like the fools who love act – but he was Lord Voldemort.
He did not love.
Or at least, that was what he had always told himself. At first, he had thought it was weakness; Then he thought it was Harry's fault, the boy had somehow managed to get under his skin with trickery; But he knew those possibilities were impossible, very slim, and it was his own heart that seemed to be telling him things that were wrong, or else he pretended didn't exist. He was sure that Harry had those exact same feelings at the time, too. For once, they had completely understood each other.
He had never had anyone who understood him; Dumbledore had always pretended things would turn out all right or that the things he spoke of were just him being paranoid and over exaggerating, but he had known better – the older man just didn't want to be bothered with it, or else didn't care.
Either way, it didn't matter; He had found someone who had understood him, whether or not that person was his most hated enemy in the world. Somehow, he had found himself clinging to the boy like life support, and God knew how much he hated depending on someone else. He was independent, worked alone, operated alone, and most of all, was alone. He needed no one or anything, so why he had been dependant on the boy had at first troubled and angered him.
It still did. But he knew that there was advantages to it as well; Having your worst enemy, your most dangerous threat, in your pocket, like a puppet on a string, working and aiding you, would benefit in many ways. The boy was the wizarding world's savior, their chosen one, the one to rid them of the evil that was Lord Voldemort – him. But the boy hadn't done so. He hadn't saved anyone. Not even himself. And that would be his downfall, in the end.
Red eyes glinted in a series of green trees, the embodiment of nothing but air moving like a whisper in the wind, an unseen shadow upon the sky or ground. He moved through the forest slowly, imagining he could feel the ground beneath nonexistent feet, but he did not – could not.
He himself was non existent; A meaningless insect trailing through a large, empty world. An insignificant human being. That's what he was now, and he would remain that way unless he got the boy to help him. That was the only way.
He reached the edge of the forest and he stopped; Standing like a stiff stone not even twenty feet away, was Hogwarts, the school he himself and now Harry attended. He knew Harry was inside; His mind connection – however limited now – was connecting with the boy's mind, and he could tell he was asleep. How he had missed linking with the boy's mind, just to senses his presence, and he wondered if Harry had felt his these past two years, acknowledged any sign that he had still, somehow, lived through the curse that had temporarily killed him.
What exactly had happened to him even he didn't know, but he knew why he hadn't completely died. That alone had been Dumbledore's fault. The foolish old man had stabbed at Harry intent upon killing the Horcrux inside him with recklessness. He had fucked up badly. Very badly indeed. But it was Voldemort's advantage now, not his, and that made this all the easier.
He floated upwards toward the castle window, and peered inside. He could barely see anything through the opaqued window filled with misty rain, but he glimpsed four beds, three abandoned and one occupied. Excellent. No one else was around. He slid inside through the wall almost as though it were invisible, and stopped short of the occupied bed, gazing down at the boy with untidy jet black hair and vivid green eyes. Green eyes that were closed.
He smirked in amusement at the boy's awkward sleeping position; His arms were outstretched above his head at a right angle, one more far away than the other, giving it a more obtuse look; His mouth was slightly ajar, and the covers from his bed were strewn off the edge of the sheet, revealing his uncovered feet. How he longed to touch him; How he longed to reach out and stroke his hair as soft as a spider's legs. How he wished he could see those brilliant green eyes boring into his, stealing the life from them like he had those couple of years ago. Two years seemed too long. Way too long.
The boy gave a short gasp and rolled over on his side, kicking the covers completely off. Almost having an urge to smack the boy, the Dark Lord merely gave a dry chuckle and moved towards the boy's desk, his school bag lying upon it. He needed to know if Harry still had it, because if he didn't, this would be very difficult to do indeed. Without it – without the diary – it would be hopeless —
But it was there, as if fate had planned it. The book fell out onto the edge of the desk.
Open, he hissed.
The book – lying limp as though dead – suddenly shuddered with life and flipped as though a wind had emerged into the room onto a page somewhere in the middle, blank and unblemished. Behind him, Harry gave a snort as though awakening, but when he looked back, the boy was still very much asleep.
"Harry," He spoke gently.
As though his voice were an alarm, the boy's eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed, looking around the room as though expecting an attack. "Who's there?" He choked out, and his hands trailed underneath his pillow and out again, revealing his wand clenched beneath his fingers. "I'm armed!"
"Look at the book, Harry." Said Voldemort quietly, and he watched as Harry dropped his wand in utter shock and shot up from the bed and snatched the diary, looking around when he saw that it was blank.
"Tom..?"
"Yes," Answered Voldemort.
The boy's eyes immediately contracted. "But you're dead. And this page is blank! You lie!"
He closed his eyes and concentrated; the words would appear more believable to the boy when he looked at the book. "Look at the page now, Harry."
Though confused, the teen nodded and glanced down at the page, his eyes widening in shock as he realized now that it was written on. His face was flustered and pale under the moonlight. "I don't understand...is this really you, Tom...?"
"Yes, Harry," Replied Voldemort. "You cannot see me, but I'm here."
Harry looked up, shaken. "How? You're dead, I saw you die!"
"I did not die, Harry," Voldemort whispered patiently. "I died temporarily, but I am very much alive."
"But then why can I only hear you and not see you? And how did you survive?"
There was silence for a moment before Voldemort gave a heaved sigh. "When Dumbledore stabbed you, Harry, he thought he was destroying the Horcrux inside of you. He didn't. He destroyed your soul, not mine. And while he believed he had, and while he had killed me with that curse, it was only temporary. I didn't realize until last year that you still had the Horcrux inside of you. It's kept me alive. I am once again what I was those many years ago."
Harry swallowed, convinced. "Is that why... I've been felling so... empty..?"
"Yes." Said Voldemort, watching the boy closely; He noticed he had grown at least several or more inches the last two years. "Your own soul was destroyed, leaving mine intact. Luckily, there is a way for you to regain it back. You have to have complete remorse for killing Dumbledore. Once you've done that and restored your soul, I'll be able to work from there."
Harry nodded. "Are... are you going to be able to get a body?"
If he could have seen Voldemort's face, Harry would have seen him smiling. "That, actually, is where you come in, Harry."
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Hope you liked the first chap. More will be coming soon. Sorry to leave it on such a cliffe, but I thought it best to leave it there. Especially since there's a lot more to be explained. Plus, I want you all to ponder over all this new information and what it means... Chow! - Tainted Visions