Rest in peace
After several minutes of whining and complaining, Harry realized self-pity was not going to help him.
"I forswear, if I survive this, I'll ask Hermione to obliviate me entirely," he muttered to himself, gathering his Gryffindor's bravery to take the Dark Lord into his arms.
"You don't have to give me any more reasons to hate you, Riddle. I think that my current hatred is far more than sufficient," he complained to his unconscious companion as he slowly reached down to the pale face. His trembling fingers curled around the back of Voldemort's neck, feeling the touch of clammy skin against his own. Repulsed, Harry cursed and jerked away as if the Dark Lord was leprous. Quickly, he rubbed his hand against the rough denim of his trousers.
"This is disgusting," he growled, blindly found the Dark Lord's cape and pulled it over.
"You're lucky that my scar no longer hurt me in your presence. Otherwise I would leave you right where you are, Riddle."
He fisted the black robes again and drew Voldemort's limp body upwards until his cheek rested on his shoulder.
After several rearrangements Harry decided that the most comfortable position is with the Dark Lord sitting between his crossed legs, leaning against him. But nothing could prepare him for the embarrassment he felt once he wrapped his arms around the gaunt body. The only thing keeping him from kicking the man away was the fact that Voldemort would be mortified hundred times more, if he was aware of their position.
Luckily for Riddle, Harry's painfully growling stomach was enough distraction. The young man soon forgot his shame and started fantasying about a huge steak with roasted potatoes topped by loads of ketchup. His imagination worked so vividly that he could almost smell the food's flavor.
Another spasm of his empty stomach made him howl in pain.
"Why do I torture myself?" he moaned weakly.
The aroma of the food was gone, replaced by another fragrance.
Harry sniffed to find the source. It was nothing he could easily identify. Beside the intense stink of blood and dirt he also detected a trace of something else in the air. Getting the idea, he bent his head to the cold body in his arms. He made a disgusted grimace, though the slight scent he smelled wasn't in fact repulsive.
His discomfort only supported the strong aversion he felt towards his nemesis.
"How I loathe you, Riddle," he whispered virulently.
"See what you force me to do, even when you are a lifeless trunk. You … infernal half-breed."
Harry snorted quietly when he felt no contraction in the relaxed body.
"I suppose no one has ever called you half-breed Riddle."
This was positively distracting. Harry felt a sudden rush of something akin to childish joy.
"Hmm … I wonder … you always make smart-ass comments about my mum. But she was a witch at least. Both my parents were great magicians. I can hardly say the same about you."
His lips curved slightly at the thought.
"The only magic your father did was bewitching your poor mother. And he was also quite good in stampede and disappearing, I suppose."
Harry suddenly paused and shook his head as if he wanted to get rid of something.
"Er … strange … why did I say such low things aloud? This is not my style, but yours Riddle; it must be the insufferable hunger. It definitely starts to mess with my mind."
His companion remained impassive and Harry slowly started to feel unstrained.
Besides, talking made him feel better, so he went on.
"Though - don't you find it completely absurd? The Dark Lord, who proclaimed the blood purity above all, has in the end somewhat lower blood status than his enemy, who professes a direct opposite? Furthermore, don't you find entirely ironic, that we, mortal enemies, are as a matter of fact distant relatives?"
This time Harry found strength to laugh aloud.
"Weeks ago I accidentally realized, that I still speak Parseltongue. I can hardly describe the shock I felt in the moment. I couldn't sort it out. I was horror-struck by the thought that there is still some little part of you inside me, but Hermione only smirked at my fears and said: 'Oh, Harry, I guess it must be hard for you to accept that all pureblood families in England are somehow related. It seems that you two share this ability not because of some form of obsession, but simply due to distant relation.'
Harry shrugged imperceptibly, looking at the indistinct outline of the white snake-like face, half covered by the cape.
"It is hard for me to accept, I admit," he muttered.
"What do you think?"
Silence.
"You agree, I see. It's quite easy to talk to you when you are so unresponsive. You should be like this more often, I think."
Harry wanted to carry on his monologue, but the gaunt ribcage pressed against his body suddenly expanded as Voldemort took in a deep breath. For what seemed to be an endless moment Harry awaited a furious reaction for his unfair instigation, but the tensed instant passed away and the bony chest slowly relaxed again. The Dark Lord sighed quietly and continued in his imperceptible breathing.
"Obviously still alive," Harry mumbled quietly, once he was completely sure Voldemort showed no other signs of being awake.
However, he no longer wished to speak about such delicate topics, for he's got no proof Voldemort didn't hear what he had said before and frankly, Harry didn't really want to confront the Dark Lord again. His body was still sore from their last disagreement.
So he closed his eyes and tried to rest quietly for a short while. It was rather easy as the close presence of the other helped to create pleasant warmth spreading through his tired limbs. Surprisingly comfortable feeling diminished a sensation of danger and soon Harry fell asleep with the Dark Lord in his arms.
*****
He walked through the overcrowded Great Hall in Hogwarts. Everyone around was celebrating, drinking, eating and smiling; only he halted in the middle unnoticed. He was starving, but every time he reached for a dishful of appetizing delicatessen, someone took it from him. The faster he snatched at them, the faster they disappeared. He fumed, begged, cursed, but people around merely laughed at his desperation. Finally he grasped a plate with a piece of well-done turkey, but a ginger boy from the other side was trying to wrench it away.
"Ron! Let go! You've already eaten!" he cried, but the boy only grinned.
Harry was furious.
He tugged at the plate but it changed its shape under his fingers; it was squirming, trying to slip away.
"No … no … NO! Don't!"
*****
He abruptly awoke, feeling the struggle in his arms halted. After a short recuperation Harry was certain it was just a vivid dream. The reality, however, seemed to be much worse. It definitely wasn't a revived plate with turkey stirring in his arms. The person lying there became motionless. Harry waited to feel him breathing, but the skinny chest against his own didn't move an inch. Obviously, Voldemort had to hold his breath as well.
He was awake.
The recognition shattered his composure and Harry nervously gulped. He was surprised how loud it sounded.
The hard edge of Voldemort's jaw was still digging him into the collarbone and even through his thick pullover he could feel man's facial muscles gradually tighten, followed by the rest of his body. Soon the Dark Lord was stiff as if petrified. Harry could only wonder whether the reason was shock, anger or repulsion. Finally, after what seemed to be eternity, Voldemort slowly started to breathe again.
Suddenly, those spindly arms moved in a clear attempt to free his tethered hands. Harry swore secretly. Why had he succumbed to the allurement of sleep again, when he should have stayed astir and reach a safe distance once Voldemort recovered? He realized that he has no option, but to move away now.
Taking a deep breath he grasped Voldemort's shoulder, while the other hand sneaked under Riddle's chin to push him away.
"Take your filthy hands off me, Potter!"
The high-pitched voice was so cold and unpleasant that Harry immediately jerked away, stunned.
First, nothing happened, but soon Voldemort raised his head to face Harry squarely.
The intensity of illumination increased and Harry once again saw the blurred visage of his archenemy. The small gap between their faces was far beyond the young man's comfort zone.
"Okay," Harry growled when he composed himself, extremely irritated by their close interaction. "So we stay here hugging each other forever. Is that what you want?" he mocked acidly.
Harry noticed how Voldemort's thin upper lip curved in disdain.
"Your poor mind clearly misunderstood me. I have to repeat myself, then. Get the hell off me, Potter!"
The young man gritted his teeth and fisted his hands as he tried to hold his anger under control.
"How am I supposed to do it, Riddle, when you are sitting on my legs!-? Get up first!"
Voldemort responded by a scowl and tugged wildly at his handcuffs, looking daggers at the young man.
"Untie me, brat! Now!"
"Forget it," Harry spat, grabbed the soft fabric on the Dark Lord's shoulders and pushed him off before he could start to protest.
Once he was free, he rose to his feet, ignoring the sudden loss of warmth.
Voldemort stayed apparently calm, though the rage was mounting inside him by every passing second. He wanted to hurt Potter as badly as possible. The fact that he was cold again only supported his violent desires.
Ultimately, wrath found its way to his lips.
"You'll regret this, Potter, once I make you eat your own intestines! You'll regret this, while crying bloody tears; I'll make sure of it! How dare you humiliate me like this! How dare you even touch me, you filthy half-blood!"
His silky cold voice wavered in fury.
"Are you bored, Potter? Am I, Lord Voldemort, a toy of The-Boy-Who-Lived-By-Mistake? Have you decided to play games with me? Let me assure you, this is your last!"
Crack.
Harry heard the sound somewhere deep within his thoughts.
He saved his life at expense of a huge personal sacrifice and this is his repayment.
He spun around to see the place where Voldemort's eyes glowed.
"Shut the hell up, Riddle! I've had enough of this," he began dangerously. "So you want me to regret my deeds, don't you? Very well, listen. I feel so bad about helping you, better? Furthermore, I do regret you have no nose I can break now! Satisfied now?"
He took a step closer, ignoring Voldemort's furious hissing.
"Unlike you I am capable of remorse!"
"Potter…"
"I haven't finished yet! You said you'll make me eat my intestines. What a generous offer! I'm so starving I wouldn't mind. Frankly, I'm not far from wondering which part of your body is possibly edible."
This remark left Voldemort staring at him speechless.
Harry regretted he couldn't see his face at the moment. It would be worth it.
He used the pause to take a deep breath instead.
"And concerning my parentage – I hope you realize you're insulting yourself as well. Think what you've said, Riddle. My parents were great Aurors, both. It's you, whose mother was nearly a Squib. It was your father, who had gotten a rash when he heard about magic and wizards!"
The roar which shook the cave was beyond what Harry thought Voldemort is capable to produce. He saw the skinny body bend as a longbow and spring up to feet. He saw him free his tethered hands in one forceful release of magic. The cave walls flashed so intensely that Harry had to screw up his eyes.
He remained unshaken, though.
"Does it hurt to hear the truth?" he asked calmly.
"You've made many grave mistakes Potter, but this is…," Voldemort began in a gravel tone after he calmed his breath a little.
"This is my last. I know. You like this phrase a lot. But I think I've asked something first," Harry interrupted him, absolutely serene. Whether the reason was his hunger or psychical exhaustion, he didn't know and didn't care.
The light slowly dimmed out.
Voldemort pushed himself off the wall, glaring murderously at the young man. The only reason why he hesitated with the attack was the memory of the last one.
"You know nothing of me, Potter. Nothing! How dare you besmirch my mother – the great descendant of Salazar Slytherin!"
Harry shook his head, amazed.
"What illusion are you living in? It's you who seem to know nothing of her!"
"Potter … I warn you … you're very close to make me mad on you … here."
The last word was whispered and sounded so strangely, but it took only a moment for Harry to recognize Parseltongue.
"Do you?" he held his own.
"She was a great witch," came a short reply with a hint of malice for Harry if disagreed.
"She was nothing but a slave," Harry breathed out, hurt because the only son of Merope Gaunt has never tried to find out her suffering, never really tried to understand her.
Voldemort's thin colorless lips completely disappeared as he pressed them together.
"She was a slave living in a cowshed, tyrannized by her relatives. She was a poor woman, dreaming of love and freedom. She was no doubt a kind woman, but her magical abilities weren't strong enough to help her survive and see her only son grow up."
"Enough!" Voldemort shrieked, trembling with suppressed emotions.
"She'd be surely horrified to see what you've become. That she gave life to a hellraiser."
"Potter…," the Dark Lord seethed in frenzy prowling towards him.
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and snorted quietly.
"Why it has to be me telling you this stuff? You've got all those years to find it out by yourself."
Voldemort suddenly halted and tilted his head to one side, then speaking in that cold eerie voice once again.
"She's dead. What does it matter anymore? On top, why should I even believe to that chit-chat of yours?"
"You don't have to, Riddle, it doesn't matter to me. But I hope you are still sane enough to realize that I've always told you the truth. Besides, this information comes from a very trustful source – from Dumbledore himself. And he did quite a research of your past."
Voldemort sneered in clear annoyance, eyes still narrowed into slits.
"I see. That's what you used to chatter about with your beloved deceased Headmaster. How very flattering."
The irony was seeping from every wizard's word.
"So, have you found a key to my defeat in the past? Maybe some curse of unbreakable luck which I overlooked by mistake?"
Harry involuntarily chuckled. It surprised him as it was rather strange thing to do under such circumstances.
"No … well - I mean, I don't know. But it helped me to confirm one thing for sure. Your 'philosophy of pure blood making a true magician' is completely wrong. How could a poorly talented witch and a man with no magical abilities whatsoever give rise to such a very powerful wizard? If you were right about your theory, you alone shouldn't be able to master any wand at all."
"There are always exceptions…," Voldemort hissed, his red eyes gleaming from the shadow.
"Curiously enough, there are more exceptions than standard instances," Harry protested loudly.
Voldemort suddenly howled in rage and dug his long claws into his bonce in a gesture of absolute frustration.
"Potter! You're still the same idiot! How can you judge me, when you clearly have no idea of what I am pursuing?-! Look at the magical community in Britain and all over the world! We are dying out, because wizards and witches are breeding with muggles and similar vermin! I needn't to explain myself, especially not to you, still I was rather expecting that one day you'll open your blind eyes and see that all I do is trying to stop it! Obviously, I was wrong about you again."
Once Harry heard this, previous fury started to burn his insides again and he cornered the Dark Lord, who guardedly retreated.
"You're trying to stop it, you say, hmm?" he sputtered. "I guess different. If you haven't murdered numerous magicians over the last half of century, I think our little population would be much better off right now!"
The Dark Lord exposed his spear-shaped teeth as his back hit the cave wall.
"Don't tempt me, Potter. Last time someone had courage to question my methods I let him beg three hours for death before I complied."
"Another wizard, right?" Harry fumed, firmly decided not to ask the name of the unfortunate.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing," Harry snapped, but he knew the Dark Lord got the point.
Voldemort recoiled.
"I'm tired of this silly discussion and of you Potter as well. You'd better leave me alone, before I lose the rest of my patience!"
Harry smirked and slowly took several steps back.
"With pleasure. I'd let you rest in piece forever, if I could," he added, failing to cover his amusement as Voldemort sent him another of his deadly glances.
Finally he turned his attention back to his 'working slot' and started to benefit from the shining walls.
R & R
Author's note: My longest chapter yet, yay! Review, please!