"Are you here to mock me?" The man just stood there quietly, looking down at the mess of what was left. Everything was aching, but the pain seemed to dull when Dumbledore came. Voldemort felt useless in front of him, his form being reduced to a feeble smaller version of himself. He didn't know how to describe it, just that it was weak and pathetic. He felt as weak as he did before he got his new body. Just this time, there was no second chance.

Dumbledore was wearing white robes, his beard longer than ever, and his dancing blue eyes looked down on him. Unlike Voldemort, the man didn't seem to have changed much. Death only seemed to make him glow. Voldemort began to feel agitated at his mere presence.

"DON'T JUST STAND THERE! SAY SOMETHING!" Voldemort felt his voice falter as he realised all his worst fears were upon him. He was weak. He was powerless. Worst of all... He was dead. The man he once called professor, once saw as his foe continued to stand there quietly.
He pities me. He thought angrily.
"You should be fearing me right now." He hissed.
That's what had always bothered Voldemort the most.

Dumbledore never feared him.
"Aren't you going to lecture me, the great lord Voldemort, about how love was always the way? Aren't you going to rub that boy's victory in my face? Say some philosophical nonsense that only makes sense to you?" He spat. The silence that continued irritated him the longer it went on. What did he want? He had won. The dark lord was dead. Lord Voldemort was dead. Tom Riddle was dead.
"You did this to yourself." Dumbledore said calmly. He didn't know what irritated him more. The calm tone or the silence.
"Because I couldn't feel love? Because I valued power more?" He hissed.
"Yes. But also because you let your fears win." Now Voldemort went silent.
"I don't fear anything." He said under his own breath.

"You feared death. Death drove you to split your soul. Death drove you to fight Harry. Death drove you to become your own enemy. Death killed you. Your inability to love blinded you, but your fear of death drove you." His eerily calm blue eye looked right through him, making him feel uneasy. Voldemort took a look around at the white place to distract himself, to take his mind off the situation.

"Where are we?" He asked.
He had believed that this was the place after death, but thinking it through... He and Dumbledore were the only ones here.
"The place between life and death. Splitting your soul has its consequences."
"And you?"
"Only a visit."
"So I'm alone..."
"You always made yourself alone. This seems fitting does it not?"
"Why are you here?" He went silent once more.
"It only seemed fitting."

"I hate you."

"I know." The silence occurred once more. Never awkward, only there.

"Whatever you're here for, just say it." Voldemort finally said in defeat. Suddenly he felt the pain slowly increasing once more as Dumbledore turned away. His calm eyes now saddened as he said "Goodbye, Tom." before disappearing. Voldemort felt hollow as he looked at the place Dumbledore once stood, the words "Goodbye Tom" echoing in his head.

"Goodbye sir" he whispered realizing how truly alone he was. He wanted him to come back. To lecture him. He wanted something. Someone. The pain became sharp and agonizing, but he didn't scream. He remained on the ground motionlessly,

He had nothing now. Nothing to gain. Nothing to lose. Nothing but his fears becoming a reality and his pain reminding him of his failures. He thought back on his life, on all his actions, all his choices… He only had forever to think about it.

For the first time in his life, Tom Marvolo Riddle felt true regret.

But it was a little too late for that.