"For starters, sorry it's been such a long time since I have updated this story. I have been caught up with other tasks in life since I last updated. I hope that you enjoy this one all the same. "
Loving Voices-
Voldemort-
Voldemort was laid upon a dusty bed within the Shrieking Shack, gazing at the ceiling and thinking of how easily manipulated that Weasley boy was. It had been so easy for him to turn him to the 'Dark side', so to speak. He was pretty sure that Ron's father would have been so disappointed in him, but who was he to judge? It was Ron's path to choose and Ron's alone. Nobody else could shape his live, they could help him by placing the sign posts, giving him different directions to follow but, in the end, it was up to him to follow them or to turn off onto a different road completely.
"How much longer am I going to be staying with you, Sir?" The fat muggle whispered from the corner of the room, where he was surrounded by dust bunnies he had created in his boredom.
Voldemort took a deep breath. "Not much longer, muggle." He rolled over to face Dudley. "If I am going to be honest, I have got quite fond of you."
Dudley's face lit up. "Oh, Voldy. I have grown fond of you too. I never knew I could feel this way before I met you." He scampered across the floor, on his hands and knees to sit himself at Voldemort's feet.
He recoiled, plastering an expression of disgust on his face. "What are you talking about?!" He asked, his eyes wide with suspicion.
"Love, I'm talking about love. You love me too, right?" Dudley's eyes were glistening with joy as he stayed, knelt on the floor at Voldemort's feet, his hands clasped together almost like he was praying.
"No, muggle. I did not mean 'love'." Voldemort wrinkled his nose. "I do not have a heart to love, stupid amoeba."
Dudley's eyes filled with tears. "But...Voldy...You are the only one for me."
Voldemort's stomach bubbled uncomfortably. No one had ever told him that before. Not even the one that he had long ago wished would. "Dudley-"
Dudley had already launched himself upon Voldemort and was trying furiously to place his slimy lips upon Voldemort's cold ones.
Voldemort's hands were flailing in front of him, slapping at Dudley's fatty face frantically. "No! Stop! Please!" He screamed, his arms still flailing and his nostrils finding it hard to take in enough air in his panic.
"But I want you, Voldy." Dudley said in a muffled tone as Voldemort's hand was pushing his face in to a distorted fish replica.
Voldemort flailed even more. "Harassment! Fire!" He screamed before kicking Dudley to the floor. "No!" He said with finality. "I will not perform the Hanky-Panky with you!" He sat up and dusted off his cloak, just in case some flaky muggle dandruff had found its way onto it. "Filthy, non-magic creature!"
Dudley lowered his head and began to trace circles in the dust on the floor. "I don't know what came over me...I'm sorry, Master."
Voldemort stood and wandered around the room a few times. What was it with these modern people? Lust is uncontrollable and rules all in their minds. What ever happened to violence? Now that was a glorious thing. Taking a few defenceless muggles and dangling them in midair, making them scream and cry with confusion; now that was some good, clean fun that Voldemort enjoyed.
"You're lucky I didn't do that to you, boy." He said in a triumphant and happy voice, remembering the good old days always made him feel all bubbly and warm inside.
"Do what, Master?" Dudley asked, the circles in the dust now turning into spirals.
Voldemort shook his head and made a clicking noise with his tongue. He had forgotten that he had been talking to himself within his head again. He really needed to stop doing that; some people might mistake it for insanity. He was not insane, just visionary.
"It doesn't matter, muggle. If you perform the act that you did tonight upon me again, you may find out though." He pointed a chalky white finger at Dudley in a threatening manner.
He quivered amongst the dust. "I promise I will behave myself." He whispered, his eyes bulging with fear.
Voldemort made a disgruntled noise and then turned back to gazing at the patch of wall he had been whilst contemplating. The idea of performing such acts disgusted him these days. They made his stomach churn with sickness but he knew that he would not have felt like that a while ago. There had been one person who he had wanted to devote his life to, just one. Alas, circumstances got in the way of things. There were certain boundaries that he would have had to cross to be able to be with his one true love. Tom Riddle had been willing but his love had not. Teachers and students could not be together. It was redeemed wrong and this particular wizard had not seen that it was worth sacrificing his post for such a minor person as Tom. He was the only man who had seen Tom as he was, for who he was going to be. A great wizard with great power, he just never knew that he was going to become a greatly evil wizard.
He hit the wall with his fist. "I still love you, although I pretend I don't. I could never hurt you." He whispered to himself. So many people thought he was afraid to go near someone of such calibar. That was not it. He was afraid to hurt them. Albus Dumbledore made Voldemort the man was he was by rejecting his love and turning him away, leaving him in the bitter darkness alone. A place where voices would whisper to you to do things, evil things that would hurt many people. Wizard or muggle, they would be harmed by such things. And then this Potter boy came along and destroyed him, sending him to a place where the darkness got darker and the voices became more and more bitter.
He snarled under his breath. "Potter, prepare to die!"
