The dining room is quiet, its only two occupants sitting at either head and not looking at each other.

Harry is slumped back into the chair, half his hair missing but growing back slowly and everything else singed. His head is lolled back and his arms are hanging by his sides. Not only does he now have underwear on, he's also fully dressed, solely because the intruder insisted that it was 'common curtesy to dress appropriately when entertaining a guest'.

The teenage Dark Lord opposite is pristine and sitting with correct posture. He taps the holly wand against his thigh, his other hand palm down against the table.

The silence drags.

"Why is there a room full of Lethifolds in your house?" the younger asks suddenly, his tapping coming to a stop.

"Was," Harry corrects dully, not looking away from the ceiling. "There was a room full of them. There was also a third floor, but apparently you take exception to that."

The younger male frowns. "I don't like surprises."

Harry slowly raises his head to stare at the Horcrux, his facial expression somewhere between incredulous and 'fuck off'.

The other glares. "I also don't like to be called that name."

"But it's legally your name," Harry huffs, letting his head fall again.

The intruder grits his teeth and leans forward. "It's not actually; I had it changed. So if you call me that again I'm addressing you as 'Dursley'."

Harry jack-knifed up into a sitting position.

"Oh, now it's not such a good idea, is it?" the teenager mocks, relaxing back. "You understand how annoying it is, Dursley?"

"Fine," Harry snaps. "What am I supposed to call you?"

The younger rolls his eyes. "Voldemort, you idiot. Call me Voldemort."

"Yeah, no," Harry drawls. "That's the easiest way to get you killed."

The Horcrux takes a moment to just stare. "Excuse me? You're not still on about that protecting me ridiculousness, are you?"

"Where else would you go?" Harry argues. "Your Death Eaters are in Azkaban or scattered."

The younger scoffs. "Yes, because that stopped me before." He shakes his head, amused. "Why are we even talking about this? I should be killing you." He pauses. "Unless there are more Lethifolds for me to run into…?"

Harry opens his mouth to explain but something goes terribly wrong and his body decides 'nah, mate, you can fuck right off with that shit' so Harry ends up in an entirely involuntary, horrifically violent coughing fit.

The kind that brings tears to his eyes and forces him to make that disturbingly ugly face; like he would vomit if he wasn't already coughing up his pancreas. It also has the criteria that despite the need to have air in his lungs to cough, the coughing won't let him breathe.

So he kind of spams there in his seat, dying in stupidest he way could possibly go out, and Voldemort's bloody Horcrux does nothing but stare.

The younger male gets bored of waiting and asks, "Should I come back later or are you going to finish soon?"

Harry flips him off while still coughing so hard his kidneys protest.

"If you die from this, I'm going to be so annoyed with you," the intruder says in amusement. "I mean, I'm going to laugh first, but then I'll be annoyed."

It takes another moment for Harry's body to stop trying to turn itself inside out, and Harry lets his head stay face down on the table, panting like he just outran a dragon on foot.

"You should get that looked at," the other male mutters.

Harry raises his head, wipes away the tears and smooths down his clothes. "So, where were we?" he wonders idly as if that coughing fit wasn't so completely fucking ridiculous that even Snape would have shit himself laughing if he saw it.

"Lethifolds," the younger deadpans.

"Right. No, there are no more," Harry reassures. "But I have some Dementors and you should never, ever go down to the third basement without me." He looks contemplative. "Yeah, other than that, I think you could take on the rest of the creatures I have."

The other just sighs. "Why?"

"My job," Harry says with a shrug. He runs a hand through his hair, glad that it now feels as long and thick as before the fire. "I'm a creature specialist."

"That should significantly boost your chances of death, and yet you still insist on living," the Horcrux grumbles. "Are you made of pure Felix Felicis? Have you been blessed by a God?"

"Is that just a saying or do you believe in Gods?" Harry asks, curious. "You don't seem the type."

The other sends a derisive look in Harry's direction. "I am a God."

Harry scowls. "Gods don't bleed."

The teenage Dark Lord smirks and raises an arm. He pulls down his sleeve and presses the wand's tip to the underside, cleanly slicing down the pale flesh and splitting it open.

Harry's eyes widen but he waits, a breath stuck in his throat.

Wisps of black shadow seep from the Horcrux's cut, moving in sudden jerks and twitches. Then comes tar, the black sludge bubbling to the surface and sliding down his forearm.

The younger male moves his arm closer to his lips, and without breaking eye contact, licks a long, languid stripe up the cut. It seals back to unblemished skin when his tongue passes over and then the black tar is disappearing with a swallow.

The Horcrux smiles and pulls his sleeve down. "If you're wondering; it tastes quite nice. Like the epitome of power."

Harry gulps thickly and wrenches his eyes away. "Okay, let's just… let's not do that again." He grabs desperately for something to change the topic. "What am I calling you? Is Marvolo okay?"

"Fine, if you insist," Marvolo says dismissively, raising the holly wand. "You can use the name to beg for mercy as I kill you."


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A/N: I've decided to not reveal what item the Horcrux came from unless someone guesses it correctly. XD Have fun.