The Second Rising For years an unrequited love has festered in the hearts of two so called enemies. Both have yearned for one another and yet now they are far too stuck within the web they created, of lies, deceit and hatred, that there is no way they could truly be with one another. But Voldemort refuses to give up upon something that he has wanted since he was fifteen...the heart, body and soul of Dumbledore. Things are even more difficult because Dumbledore feels the same way even though he knows he shouldn't for the sake of not only Harry Potter and his students, but also for the entire Wizarding world. When love could mean destruction and yet denial could mean death what is one to do?
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter so don't even try to sue me people
By the way I set the time in 2007 for Dumbledore's age so it would make him 126. And obviously Dumbles is still alive in this series
Slash: Voldemort/Dumbledore ( 1st Top, 2nd Bottom.)
Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated. Alphonse de Lamartine.
He was familiar to these parts, deep within the bowels of Hogwarts. His figure, almost always there and stock still at that, seemed almost like a fixture to the room. Everything lay silent when he was there, the walls stopped whispering of old forgotten secrets, and the gargoyles remained as still as the statues they were. His blue eyes remained fixed upon the mirror never seeing but one thing. The thing he longed for the most. A man with dark brown, almost black, hair and scarlet eyes smiled back at him. In his arms was a slighter figure with chestnut brown hair cascading down his back to his hips, tied with a black ribbon, and sparkling blue eyes. A wide smile pulled at his lips.
What he yearned for was what reflected in both of these men's eyes. Happiness, Love, and Completion. Something he could not have in this life time again, not now. It helped form the anger within him, the power that could help him defeat Voldemort. His eyes closed as an odd wave of emotion ran through him at that thought. Sadness mixed with an extreme feeling of loss echoed within his stomach. He felt sorry for Harry, the boy he had come to love as his own grandchild because his heart refused to let go of the past. His heart would one day betray the boy in more ways then one and for that he was…..he could not name the sadness that touched him. But he also knew his heart would one day rule his mind for he had kept it from its desire too long.
' He knows…..Tom knows that if he comes to me in love and passion instead of hatred, that I would fall into his arms oh so willingly.' It made a part of him tremble in lust and yet another part shake with fear. Dear sweet Tom…far too smart for a half blooded boy. It was insane to even believe such a thing was true, and yet he had fallen into that trap. He should have known that that beautiful boy had been an Elemental, his mother a creature of the wind and his father a being of the fire. It made for a deadly pair, and even deadlier when the holder of two such powers had turned to darkness. He was so smart, so powerful, so cruel.
It disturbed him that he was so in love with him still.
He had tried to deny it so long ago when the fifteen year old Tom Riddle had first come to him, confessing that he was in love with him. It had been fifteen years since he remembered dreaming that Tom had taken advantage of his unconscious form, and woke up marked with passion bites and another mans semen. The boy had been absolutely crazed by his passion and love for a man almost a hundred years his senor. He had been dangerous, stalking him until he graduated and was forced to leave the school. He had been even more dangerous when he returned to ask for the DADA job in Hogwarts. He had grown up, he had been a man instead of a boy, and yet his yearning had remained the same as ever.
Tom had nearly rapped him once again in the Headmasters Office.
This time though Minerva had appeared before it had been taken too far…..before Dumbledore could give into his pleasures and finally sacrifice himself to Tom's burning kisses. He feared what the world would have been like if Hogwarts' Headmaster had given into the future Dark lord. And he was disgusted with himself for other odd reasons as well. He was almost a hundred and twenty six years old….he wasn't a beautiful youth who belonged in the arms of such a young man. He was a man who showed his wisdom and his power through his looks, by his long white beard and silvery hair. He had earned every wrinkle upon his face from all the hardships he had gone through. But it had seemed as though Tom did not care for looks, did not care for the beautiful youths who through themselves at him in his school years.
But why did the boy desire him?
Was it because of his power, his skill, his wisdom? He had never truly learned why Tom would be so passionate about him. At times he had put it off on the mere thought that it was because he had been the only Father figure the boy had ever actually had. But he did not know if that was true anymore, not with the hatred the boy held for Father figures in his life. He sighed after a long moment and looked at the mirror again. The two forms were entwined in each others arms, grabbing hold upon one another, their mouths locked in an even more passionate embrace.
He silently rose from the bench he had sat himself down upon hours ago. It was time to leave and perhaps get some rest. He noticed as usual that as soon as he stepped away the mirror became blank once more. The two lovers thrown from one another to a deep space of nothingness. Perhaps they would then know how he felt without his lover. Without Tom Riddle.
Without Voldemort.