Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I'm only a fan writing for pure entertainment and do not mean to gain any sort of profit from this.

Warnings: SLASH LV/HP

A/N: Would you look at that? I updated!

Chapter 2

Both souls of the Otherworld breathed a sigh of relief, having finally found their way out of the busy station. To his surprise, Harry's heart had picked up speed just by seeing the sheer amount of people that came in and out of King's Cross, their movements methodical and knowing exactly where to go. Unlike them, it had taken Harry a while before he could remember a way out of the station and much to his travelling partner's chagrin, had gotten them lost no less than two times.

Voldemort seemed to be doing no better, scowling at every person who dared to block their way and scaring many old women and children. Harry's favourite moment had been when a small boy of perhaps five had accidentally grabbed onto Voldemort's legs, thinking it was his father. Voldemort had looked down with such shock at the young boy, as though he had never seen a child before, that Harry'd had to laugh. His mother had hurried him away soon after, but not before giving Voldemort a beaming smile and thanks. Voldemort had stood dazed for another moment, before Harry had grabbed his sleeve again and continued their quest to find a way out.

Now, standing on the entrance, Harry groaned inwardly. It was pouring buckets and the crowd was no less outside than it was inside, with the addition of honking cars and motorists. A multitude of black umbrellas, with some colourful ones in between, moved here and there in unison and Harry was alerted to his own lack of protection from onslaught of rain. Voldemort would be fine, his coat protecting most of him. For Harry though, who was dressed in naught but a simple blue t-shirt and dark jeans, going through the rain would be like swimming in the Black Lake.

"Can't we just disapparate?" Harry moaned, as a large woman hit him on the shoulder with her flailing hand-bag. "Wands," growled Voldemort simply and Harry sighed in frustration. "Can't you so wandless magic, oh powerful Dark Lord?" Harry asked half sarcastically and half hopefully. So busy was the station that no muggle caught onto his absurd words. Voldemort raised a brow at him and shook his head, "Not apparation. Unless you'd rather agree that I fly us out of here, there isn't much I can do..." It was now Harry who shook his head vigorously, remembering a bright blue ford anglia flying over Kings Cross from years past, and Snape's mouth twisting furiously, spittle flying out...'you were seen by no less than seven muggles...'

Harry gave another sigh. He could imagine the face of the conductor, smirking at them gleefully, having stuck them here with no means of transportation or money. "Money," said Harry quietly, "We need money..."

Harry dug into the front pocket of his jeans, finding nothing. He was met with a surprise when he tried the back though, his hands finding something small and leathery. Pulling it out, he saw that it was a square, black wallet, filled with muggle money and nothing else. So The Train had left them with some aid. He grinned widely at Voldemort, showing him the full purse proudly.

"Muggle money?" Voldemort said frowning. "What are we to do with it?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Catch the bus... or a taxi. Though I suppose we'll have to find out the fares first and figure out where to go at least..." Just as he said this, a woman, talking on a mobile phone loudly with not a care to where she was going, ran her trolley over Harry's foot.

Harry cried out in pain, clutching Voldemort's arm to keep standing. He hopped on one foot as the woman left without even a look back, still talking loudly. Voldemort looked back with growl and then put a hand around Harry's shoulder. Shrugging out of his coat, Voldemort held it over the two of them and half-carrying Harry, pulled them out of the station, making their way towards the terminal where lines of cabs stood waiting. Yanking open the door of one, he shoved Harry in before climbing in himself. The driver, an overweight man with an unshaved chin who smelled strongly of alcohol and stale clothes, growled at being woken up.

"Where to?" the driver asked roughly, straightening up and hastily hiding what looked suspiciously like a beer bottle.

Harry at Voldemort uncertainly before deciding, "Charing Cross Road, we'll tell you where to stop."

"Charing Cross Road... that'll cost yeh," the driver said, narrowing his eyes, "you sure you have enough?" He eyed them warily and Harry guessed it was because of their lack of luggage.

"Yes, we do," Voldemort said smoothly, looking straight into the man's eyes. "If you would be so kind to start now, we are rather in a hurry."

The driver, apparently satisfied with Voldemort's manner and a little intimidated, turned around and started up the engine. Voldemort reached forward, closing the small partition that hid them from the driver's view and relaxed. Looking at Harry, he asked quietly, "Is your foot alright?"

Harry nodded, still a little astonished at Voldemort having taken off his coat for him. "I told the driver to take us to Charing Cross 'cause of the Leaky Cauldron. I thought it'd be easier than wandering around in muggle london," he said the last in a low voice, careful not to let the driver hear.

"That is alright, but how are we to get in any further? We have nothing to prove we're..."

Harry sighed as he caught on, not having thought of that. They couldn't access Diagon Alley without wands nor could they have their muggle money transformed into gold to prove that they were wizards. Harry was sure the ability to cast magic was still with him, but without a wand, he was useless...

"But you're not!" Harry exclaimed suddenly and Voldemort looked back at him confused. "You can do wandless magic, can't you?"

Voldemort shook his head and said quietly, "Of course I can, but that doesn't help us. A demonstration of magic won't be enough to convince the barman to let us into Diagon Alley, nor will me confunding him or any other wizard. Besides, that probably goes against the rules..."

"Rules?" asked Harry, "There's rules?"

"Didn't you read the pamphlet at all?" Voldemort asked almost exasperatedly. When Harry shook his head, he continued, "We are not to-"

Just then, the taxi screeched to halt, with the driver cursing on the top of his lungs. Another car had just cut him off and they were stuck, owing to the large traffic jam up ahead. Rolling down his window, Harry stuck his head outside, disappointed to see that the jam was endless and cars weren't moving for miles ahead. Grimacing, he said to Voldemort, "There's a jam up ahead... it could take hours."

"I am not staying in here for hours," growled Voldemort. Pushing down the barrier, he tapped the driver's shoulder, saying, "We'd like to get out, this isn't going anywhere."

"Get out?" roared the driver, "You bloody well made me come out here just so you could get out?"

Harry started at the look in Voldemort's eyes and even the driver quietened. "Yes," Voldemort said coldly, "we'd like to get out. Tell us your fare up until now and I'll pay you or, we'll just get out and you can take this filthy cab back to the terminals without a penny."

The driver sobered up immediately, pointing a yellowed finger nail at the meter. Harry quickly pulled out the amount needed and paid him as Voldemort already made to get out, not caring that they were in the middle of a road. It made no difference either way, as Harry saw when he got out as well, since not a single vehicle was able to move.

He was drenched within seconds, vision blurring due to the fog on his glasses. Grabbing Voldemort's sleeve, he pointed to a cafe in the distance. Voldemort nodded and they hurried to it, hunched over to protect themselves from the raging wind. Standing under the overhang of the cafe, he cleared his glasses, looking around. A sign nearest to the traffic signal told him that they were at Tottenham Court Road, not too far from Charing Cross Street.

"Let's get inside for now," said Harry, pushing aside his wet locks, "we can decide what to do then."

Voldemort pushed open the glass door, a chime tinkling to announce their entrance. The cafe was small and thankfully, uncrowded. Grabbing a table nearest to the window, they sat down, Harry slightly shivering. Voldemort was looking around the cafe in distaste, obviously put off by the muggle-ness of the place. Harry did not mind too much himself, just finally glad to be somewhere warm.

Turning to Voldemort he said, "We know absolutely nothing about what's going on... It might just be dangerous to into the wizarding world without preparation. Since we're here, I say we at least find some things out and maybe even decide on who we are."

Voldemort agreed, despite his dislike of the place. "There is another way into wizarding London though. If I remember correctly, Knockturn Alley is approachable through Borgin and Burkes. It would be easier for me confund that fool and make our way in, rather than convince the whole of Leaky Cauldron..."

"What about the rules?" asked Harry, although not completely opposed to cursing Borgin.

"There isn't any other way," said Voldemort irritably, "travelling without proper money or a wa-"

"Hello there, may I take your orders please?" the speaker was pretty waitress, who was looking at the two of them with what she thought to be an alluring smile.

Harry, waiting for Voldemort to blow off the waitress in a moment, was shocked when Voldemort gave her a wide smile instead, saying, "Ah, thank you. An earl grey for me and..." he trailed off, looking at Harry.

"A coffee is fine," Harry said amusedly, looking at the waitress who looked close to fainting under Voldemort's smile.

When the waitress didn't move, Voldemort inclined his head slightly and said, "That is all." After a few seconds, the waitress walked off with a goofy smile on her face, calling out, "A grey coffee for the earl and tea..."

Harry snorted, "Really now, don't you have anything better to do than charm muggle barmaids?"

Voldemort smirked, "It's a natural effect, Harry. I'm sure you've felt it's charm too..."

Harry scoffed and looked out the window, a tinge colouring his cheeks. Voldemort leaned back, very much pleased with himself.

A few minutes later, the waitress returned and Harry was glad to see that despite Voldemort's 'magic' she at least hadn't messed up the order. Placing the tea in front of Voldemort she said softly, "Is that all?"

"Yes, thank you very much," Voldemort replied, flashing her another smile, "You wouldn't happen to know the cause of all the traffic in this area now, would you?"

The waitress blinked a few times, then with a pleased smile that Voldemort hadn't yet dismissed her, answered, "Oh, well I'm guessing you're new here then. It's the day of the elections today!"

"Elections?" Voldemort questioned softly and the waitress looked uncertain. "Yes, you know a new prime minister is going to be chosen today, it's received quite a bit of attention this time around..."

Expression clearing, Voldemort said smoothly, "Of course, I remember reading about it in the papers. It is commendable that you know so much about politics, especially in current times..." The waitress blushed and Harry had to stop himself from laughing. He knew exactly what was going on Voldemort's head and his sarcasm was painfully evident to Harry, even if the waitress was oblivious.

"Would you happen to have today's newspaper in this charming cafe?" Voldemort asked, still smiling and the waitress all but jumped to attention. She came back quickly with a copy of the Telegraph, placing it in front of Voldemort carefully. With a wide grin she said, "If you need anything else, I'll just be around tending the other customers."

Voldemort gave her a swift smile in return and turned to his tea and newspaper. Harry let out a laugh he'd been holding in and Voldemort half-grinned at him over the paper in response. Trying not blush like the waitress, Harry cleared his throat and said, "Nice acting, though I feel a little sorry for waitress. Poor girl doesn't even know her perfect customer is in fact a Dark Lord that could kill her with a twitch of his fingers."

Voldemort frowned at him over the paper, "And do that why?To be doomed the pits of that place again? Not likely to happen. She's been useful anyhow..." Voldemort turned the paper around so that Harry could see, pointing at the date listed on the top. July 1st, 2000...

"Two years..." breathed Harry. He looked out the window at the pouring rain, thoughts a whirlwind... They were probably all alive then, his friends and the people he'd fought alongside...

"I suppose the dark were defeated then, judging by the news..." Voldemort folded the paper and placed it aside, stirring his steaming cup of tea, "The muggle world is peaceful enough," he added by way of an explanation.

"I thought you knew what the aftermath of the war was," asked Harry, puzzled.

"I only have my guesses. While you neglected to find out what had happened after, I was never given the opportunity to do so..."

"I see," said Harry quietly, wondering again what kind of a place the Abyss was, able to change the Dark Lord enough so that he could now smile charmingly at muggles, albeit with ulterior motives, rather than feel the need to curse them to death.

Harry took a sip of his coffee, pleased with the taste. He had never been much of a tea person and in the wizarding world had preferred butterbeer, and later fire-whiskey, over anything else. Needing no food or water in the Otherworld and not keen on visiting the exquisite restaurants that lined the two Cities, he hadn't tasted anything in years. Feeling the contentment in his stomach though, he supposed as long as he was in the world of the living, he would have to eat. It seemed to him as though being back here was almost the same as being alive. It made him worried as well, wondering how on earth they were supposed to last long enough for Voldemort to find the, 'something that is missing,' with only a few pounds in his wallet and no gold to speak of.

It was odd how quickly Harry had adapted to the idea that he would have to stay here as long as Voldemort did. He knew he was under no obligation to but all the same, he felt... good that he had something to do, even if the thing was far more vague than anything he had ever done before.

"We need to find a way to Charing Cross from here. I'm sure I can remember Borgin and Burke's muggle entrance, as long as we can get to Charing Cross itself..."

"Charing Cross Street?" asked a voice beside them and Harry was annoyed to see the waitress standing there yet again, with a platter of biscuits for another customer. "I could tell you how to get there, just give me a minute..."

She returned so quickly that Harry had to wonder whether she'd even given the other customers their food or had just dumped it aside. Motioning towards the window nearest to the door, she beckoned Voldemort towards it. Voldemort have Harry a harassed look which Harry returned with you-know-you-deserve-it expression, smirking slightly. Pulling on a small, forced smile for the waitress, Voldemort walked over the window to listen carefully to her directions.

Harry watched the two of them carefully over his cup, really only watching Voldemort. He's taken his coat off, revealing a plain white shirt underneath, over dark trousers. His hair was slightly longer than when Harry had seen him as Tom Riddle in his second year but he still had the same pale and sallow look from before. It suited him though and with the unshaved stubble that darkened his cheeks, he looked older, perhaps in his thirties. It felt off to call him Voldemort when looked like this, smile fixed on his face as peered out the window, with the waitress staring into his crimson eyes almost dreamily... he looked more like-

Harry's train of thought stopped abruptly. Crimson eyes... he looked again, clearly seeing the red beneath the lashes. So then... why wasn't the waitress scared? Or even slightly unsettled?

As the two finally made their way back to the table, with the waitress purposefully brushing against Voldemort's side with every step, Harry stood up. Smiling politely at the waitress he asked, "Where is the toilet?"

Although he knew he was no natural charmer like Voldemort, the look that waitress gave him was no less appraising. She looked him up and down, taking in his casual clothes and the messy hair and replied, "It's a bit hidden, I'd be happy to show you the way?"

Lips twitching, Harry replied, "I'm sure I can manage on my own..."

Looking put out, especially when she also realized that Voldemort had taken a seat and disappeared behind the paper he'd already read, she merely pointed in a vague direction and stalked off. Bending low beside Voldemort, he said, "Pay the bill and come, I need to check something..."

Harry found the toilet easily, lined with stalls and sinks, and quickly looked around for a mirror. What he saw made him take a sharp intake of breath. His reflection was that of a dark-haired boy, standing there with a wet t-shirt and tousled hair. His eyes, he was pleased to note, were still the same green, however the rest of his face was... different. When he really squinted, he was able to find his old features in his face, but at a first glance, he seemed like a completely different person. Oddly enough, his reflection wore no glasses, whereas the real him still had them on. When took them off experimentally, he was surprised to note that he could still see. Putting them carefully into his front pocket, Harry lifted up his fringe and noted, as he had expected, that there was no scar. Harry tried to focus on his reflection again, trying to discern exactly what was so different about his face, but it was of no use.

"Think of it as disillusionment charm. Only it doesn't make you invisible, just makes your features unidentifiable by others," Voldemort stepped into the room, coming to stand beside Harry and see his own reflection.

As Harry had realized, Voldemort's eyes did not look red. They were a beautiful dark grey but apart from that, his face was mostly the same but still with the hard-to-focus-on features.

"So then... if we come back here after a few days, the waitress won't be able to recognize us?" Harry asked, still staring at his reflection, disconcerted.

"No, I'm sure she would. But had she known us in our past life, she would only be able to feel a slight recognition, but still be unable to place us. It's an interesting system, ingenious even," Voldemort said thoughtfully, running a hand over his unshaved jaw.

"So then why can I see you normally?"

"Probably because we're both dead," replied Voldemort as though it should have been obvious.

"Right," said Harry, "Should we get going then? The rain doesn't seem to be dying down anytime soon..."

Harry was right, the rain didn't look as though it would be letting up anytime soon, but the traffic jam had mercifully cleared up. Harry groaned at the prospect of getting his now drying t-shirt wet again and Voldemort motioned him to wait, going into the rain with his coat held up. Harry waited impatiently, leaning against the wall of cafe, protected from most of the rain by the overhang. When Voldemort returned, Harry was astonished to see that he was carrying a large, dark umbrella.

"You're being awfully nice," Harry commented as he got under the umbrella and they began to walk to the right, Voldemort apparently knowing where to go.

"I suppose my old Riddle charm had never really died down, just hidden underneath the mantle of being a Dark Lord..." Voldemort said softly and Harry, who had expected a snide reply, frowned in return.

"From what I remember, Riddle wasn't too nice of a guy..." said Harry, not caring that he was insulting Voldemort's father. He had killed him, after all.

Voldemort chuckled. "Neither of my families were, but both were quite adept and getting what they wanted. Whether it was Riddle being an arrogant squire or my mother trapping him with a love potion..."

Harry remained quiet, pondering what he remembered of Voldemort's past. "Your mother was capable of love though... it's why she made the potion in the first place..."

Pulling Harry close as the walk unexpectedly narrowed, Voldemort shook his head. "She was nothing of the sort."

He did not elaborate but Harry could guess why. He remembered what Dumbledore had said, that Voldemort's mother had chosen to die rather than save her life by using magic and bringing up her son. Despite understanding Merope's take, Harry had found himself sympathizing with Voldemort. Being an orphan, even if in different circumstances, he understood how betrayed the young Tom Riddle would have felt when he found out.

But Voldemort, who had been surprising him every moment since they met on The Train, did so again. "I hold nothing against her, Harry. It was her choice to live or die. Even my father whose bones, if you remember, I had used to resurrect myself without a second thought, in my spite of him. They both wronged me... and I wronged them in return."

Harry was walking beside him with his mouth slightly open now, shocked by Voldemort's words. Voldemort chuckled at the look on his face. "I cannot forgive, Harry... don't expect that of me. But I can or rather have, been able to call the things which made me what I was before... even or at least settled. It is why you see me as you do and it's why I've been given a second chance, to come here."

"So they plan on freeing you from there if you find that something?" Harry asked intently.

Something deep swirled in Voldemort's eyes now and he said softly, "No, Harry. Did you really think after what I've done, I would be let off so easily...?"

Harry's hands clenched and he looked away from Voldemort. His heart felt oddly constricted, painful even. Voldemort... did deserve it, didn't he? Harry himself was a proof of it, of the crimes Voldemort had committed against him since before he was born, till the day he had died. But now, looking at the same soul who had changed from killing his father to accepting the atrocities committed against himself... did that man truly deserve to suffer even more?

"What would happen then? If you find it?" asked Harry quietly, every heart beat still painful.

"I would be ripped apart, out of existence and become a part of the Abyss..." Voldemort said distantly, the words falling from his lips almost of their own accord.

Harry's breath whooshed out of him, as though he had been punched. He came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the street, yanking Voldemort back with him. He stared at him disbelievingly, not understanding how he could be nonchalant about the whole deal. Emotions erupted inside him and he was conscious of his eyes pricking slightly. Turning away from the tight-lipped Voldemort, Harry ducked out of the umbrella, sitting down angrily on a completely wet bench off to the side, his breathing deep.

To not exist anymore... It was no joking matter. Harry himself had accepted death with open arms in his previous life, but it was because of it's necessity. It had been the only way to kill Voldemort and rid the world of darkness. He had been unsurprised by the afterlife and by the Otherworld, always having accepted the idea there would be somewhere to 'move on'.

Now, after having been introduced to Abyss, the conductor's words rang loud in his ears...An endless expanse of nothing that slowly rips apart it's inhabitants down to the same... The idea scared him, as did the thought that he was helping someone, no matter that it was the man who was responsible for such horrors, become nothing. It had only been mere hours and already, Harry found himself attached to his old enemy, every smile, grin and growl a reminder of his familiarity and the change for the better that had taken place within him. And now, finding out this? Harry felt betrayed, keen to curse all of the Otherworld for it's blind law.

Harry's hands gripped his wet jeans tightly, as he struggled to put himself back together. Voldemort was... he didn't know what anymore. Only that it hurt beyond reason, beyond understanding, at the thought that he would be alone again, once they left this hell.

After a moment, Voldemort followed him and sat down beside him, pulling him back under the umbrella. Harry felt a wet hand grip his own and the two sat there in silence, while Harry regained control of himself. He did not cry, only swallowing repeatedly to keep himself from it. He didn't bother trying to understand anymore, didn't bother to try and find the reason behind why it affected him so much, that if they succeeded, Voldemort would cease to exist.

"What... what happens to you if we don't succeed then?" Harry asked finally, voice hoarse.

"I return to the Abyss and my old... treatment resumes." It was now that Harry detected apprehension in his voice and he couldn't imagine what was such that nonexistence was preferable to it. He did not ask though, feeling that if one day Voldemort felt up to it, he would tell him on his own.

"Will you still help me, Harry?" Voldemort asked softly and the apprehension was deeper now, sounding almost fearful.

Harry wanted to scream out no, not understanding why or even bothering to, just knowing that he didn't want Voldemort to stop being. It was Dumbledore's words then, that came unbidden into his mind... there are worse things than death...

Swallowing, Harry nodded with difficulty. "It's my job to vanquish the Dark Lord, isn't it?" he gave a twisted smile and continued, "So I suppose I will, if that's what you want."

Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief, letting go of Harry's hand and standing up. After another attempt to clear his choked throat, Harry stood up as well, not meeting Voldemort's eyes. Holding the umbrella firmly, the two continued onwards, each feeling the weight of the loneliness of their existences far more than they had ever before.

xxx

A/N: It's a small chapter and I usually don't do small but something told me I have to cut this chapter off here. Whether it was conscious worrying about my impending midterms or something else (aliens) that just made me stop writing there, I don't know. I apologize, I feel like I'm cheating people out of an update, but yeah.

Oh don't take it to mean that the story is over or anything, it's only just begun. The amount of response was beautiful, made me cry and I'm sure the aliens controlling me are sitting somewhere, very much satisfied. Preferably in an awesome spaceship that looks like Apple made it, with galaxies zooming by... (happy sigh)

Now some quickies:

Updates: After midterms pass. Also, keep in mind - Never daily, not even weekly, mostly every fortnight...

Britain Stuff: I tried. I'm not even european so I probably made some glaring errors. Find it in your heart to ignore them, please.

Alive: Nope, both LV/HP are dead

Spirited Away Train?: Yes FacelessIdol, that's exactly what my train looks like, imaginary props to you for guessing correctly and having an amazing interpretation of what I'm trying to do here. :)

That's all for now, I'll make a super long chapter when I return, please keep reviewing. Everyone of them is like Riddle's heartbreaking smile and I swoon every time I read one.

Thanks for reading!

P.S. Genre - Romance. Do you see tragedy anywhere? I don't ;) Just keep that in mind.