A/N: Everything could be seen as canon until the last scene. FYI I don't ship this XD Harry is not a Horcrux in this universe.

This was written for the QLFC, Wimsbourne Wasps, round 1. My prompts were no dialogue and the word "memory".

Tom smirked as he watched the Mudblood go down, before turning his gaze to little baby. He looked scared. It was Harry Potter, supposedly looking like his dad strikingly, whilst having his mother's eyes. Tom saw neither. It was a...rather small baby, staring at Tom with the most piercing eyes he had ever seen. He had never seen a baby, or any human, for that matter, like Harry. He wanted to touch him...just feel what he felt like.

But no. This child, Potter, would bring him down. He had to be killed.

Tom raised his arm up to perform the curse he had performed so often. He said the words.

The next thing he knew was agonizing pain. Harry had lived but he had been weakened. If it weren't for the Horcruxes, he would be dead. Tom, deep down, knew why he had failed. But he couldn't accept it. He could not have lost to-

It had become a bit of an unhealthy obsession. Despite Voldemort not wanting to accept the truth, he could not stop thinking about Harry. The same Harry who had caused him to reach this parasite state. He needed to see Harry again.

Yet Harry was guarded by those stupid Muggles. Tom knew, he had to wait until Harry was not amongst the Muggles. It'd have to be Hogwarts.

Tom could wait. He'd have to.

He'd be living off Quirell for quite some time now. It was worth it. He was going to see the boy, the same boy who'd ruined his life, yes, but the same boy who gave him a new goal in life. Tom had proven to himself that he was immortal, but the memory of Harry...there was no boy like him in the world. The Wizarding World knew it, but not as well as Tom. They hadn't touched him, they hadn't seen him, not in the way that Tom saw him.

Tom had forced that Quirell to go down into the dungeons. It was time. He was going to see Harry again. He was going to touch him. Well, not him exactly, but Quirell. How had the boy aged? He didn't know. He wanted to see. Tom was curious.

Harry looked better than he'd imagined. Smooth, perfect skin. The round glasses fitting his face nicely. A perfect frame. Well built, not too muscular. He was flawless.

All he had to do now, was to touch him...

But, for some strange reason, this plan backfired. As soon as Harry's hands made contact with Quirell, Tom was filled with a burning pain, and Quirell was crumbling into stone. Not only that, but he never got the Stone to give Tom his own body and power...to do something on his own.

A year later, he tried again. Even his 16 year old self never got a chance to touch Harry.

It was only when Pettigrew returned...

His faith rested in the rat-like fellow. Pettigrew, his key to getting Harry.

Getting his body back, it was not a sensation he had felt before. He was growing, becoming himself again. He blinked his eyes a couple times, then turned to look at Harry. He was looking better than before, even his hair...longer, shaggier...

He was perfect.

Tom strolled over to Harry, who was looking angry. He couldn't help but chuckle. He was so close. Nothing was in his way. He could touch Harry.

He pressed his hand against the Lightning scar, his mark. It was their connection.

Harry let out a blood-curling scream.

Tom laid off.

This could not do. Harry didn't seem to be the kind of person who would comply with Tom, who would do what he wanted. Not peacefully anyway.

Tom would bring Harry to peace.

Nobly.

Through a duel.

This too, however, failed. Harry had somehow escaped. How could he not understand? Tom needed Harry, more than ever. And now, he needed Harry dead. It was the only way...the only way he'd be at peace, the only way he'd listen.

Bellatrix had offered to kill Harry. 'The Boy' she had called him. This could not be so. No one would to touch Harry before him. Harry was his. His only.

So Tom issued a rule, a law, more like. No one was to get Harry. No one but him. Harry, when he was at peace, was his, and his only.

Harry had been compliant. He had come in quietly, peacefully, to Tom. They were alone, together in the forest.

There was a hint of doubt, maybe Harry didn't need to be killed. But Tom couldn't risk it. A quiet, compliant Harry, who would move at Tom's order...whenever he wanted.

The green flash of light flashed from his wand, hitting the boy squarely in the chest. Harry's green eyes widened, and started to go out of focus. Harry was staring at Tom for what Tom was sure those were his last moments. He fell to the ground, almost in slow motion. His body was still.

It was done. Harry was his, all his.

Tom walked over to Harry and crouched down, running his finger over Harry's cheek. He pushed the round glasses back onto Harry. Harry's unseeing eyes looked at Tom. His body...it was still warm.

Harry was more perfect, his face looked fuller than it had previously. His face smoother. His hair fluffier. And peaceful. Tom moved Harry's hands and allowed it to rest on the ground. Harry's body complied.

Tom had finally succeeded. Harry was his.

THE END.

Word Count: 922