Disclaimer: I don't own Harry or Voldemort or anyone or anything from the Harry Potter universe. I wish I did, but, alas, I don't. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling!

A/N: Hello again! I've got a nice chapter for you today! Grins

Thank you all a lot for your reviews and the encouraging things you wrote. This chapter is for KCameh / Carmen. Usually I dedicate my chapters to Morganzola but I think she won't be too mad if she doesn't get this one... At least I hope so. So, this is for you, Carmen, as thanks for an absolutely great and encouraging review, which made me sit down and write for four hours straight.

Read on and enjoy!

Chapter 10

-888-

Lord Voldemort was sitting in his high-backed chair, a concernedly hissing Nagini at his feet.

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

Only a moment ago, he had apparated away. Away from Hogwarts. Away from his mate. Away.

His insides were churning, his vampire self kicking and screaming in his mind and his own thoughts, unbelieving and confused, were in a turmoil. And in the back of his mind, the name of his mate resounded unceasingly.

Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter...

All of this added up to an utter chaos of emotions he wasn't able to sort through.

The sound of a knock on the door echoed through the desolate room.

Voldemort didn't even lift his head. With a flick of his wrist and not a mere thought, he reinforced the wards on it, adding a silencing charm.

The world had to wait.

Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter...

Why Harry Potter? Why? Potter was his enemy, his arch nemesis... and his mate.

Potter was the bane of his life, but was he also the love of his life?

He couldn't be. How could he be? Voldemort had always wanted to kill him, seeing nothing in him save a boy who dared to stand up to him. Stand up to him and succeed.

Old, fierce hatred welled up as he remembered his defeat at Potter's hands... At Potter's hands... Potter's hands...

A picture came into the forefront of his mind, unbidden.

Small hands holding a wand aloft, trembling, but steady in their aim nonetheless. Pointing at him. Green eyes glaring fiercely, protecively.

Beautiful... his mind whispered reverently.

Yes, he agreed, Potter was beautiful...

Another picture entered his mind, a scene he had witnessed through Severus' mind...

Potter, smiling brilliantly, cheeks flushed, eyes shining brightly with hapiness...

Voldemort tried to imagine Potter looking at him like that. It was very difficult- would Potter ever look at him with anything but hatred and challenge in his eyes?

Catching himself, he frowned, displeased. It wasn't as if he wanted Potter to look at him like that. Did he?

What did he want, then?

He was going in circles, he noticed absently, not caring in the least.

Well, he answered himself, he wanted power. And as few problems as possible. And Potter presented so many problems. Or did he? Of course he did. Potter was a living problem.

But the fact was, that he was stuck with him. Potter was his mate. And he would always be.

And, damn it all, Voldemort needed his powers. If he could only get Potter to agree to be his mate... to mate with him...

But Voldemort knew that, as much as Potter had seemed to need him earlier, he would control himself and reject him as soon as he found out who he was... and if that happened, Voldemort would never gain access to his powers...

He couldn't change the fact that he was Lord Voldemort. Nor that he had killed his mate's parents. He couldn't change the past.

Well... maybe he couldn't change the past- but he could certainly change the present.

Sitting up, he retrieved his wand from his sleeve, pointed it at himself and began to change his appearance.

He conjured a mirror, looked at himself and smiled, satisfied.

Blonde hair, dark eyes and an even nose. He looked shorter, but not too short. His mate would like him, he was sure.

With a flick of his wand, he was back to his old self. Or so he thought.

Something felt odd on his face. Heavy, unusual. Strange.

Hesitantly, he lifted his left hand to touch his face. It felt different. And immediately, he knew what had changed.

The nose had stayed.

He flicked his wand again, annoyed at his own incompetence.

The nose didn't disappear.

Why didn't it disappear? It was only a magically crafted part of him. It should have vanished as soon as he cancelled the charm...

He murmured a stronger vanishing charm, but it didn't work.

Was something wrong with his magic?

He attempted a levitation charm on his snake. It worked. Nagini was lifted into the air, hissing curses.

Not caring in the least how she felt, he let her drop again, sighing, his mind working overdrive.

Of course, he could look for stronger charms or he could cast a concealing spell on his new nose... but. Well, maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe he should keep the nose. What was wrong with having a nose, anyway? Nothing, he answered himself.

With that decision out of the way, he made his way to the gathering room where Wormtail was waiting for him to press his dark mark and call the Death Eaters.

There was an important meeting tonight. Voldemort smiled without mirth.

888

He leaned back in his throne-like chair, strechting a little, before deciding to return to his rooms for the night. He had dismissed his Death Eaters earlier. The meeting had gone well.

Voldemort stood slowly, wincing as he noticed that his left leg was asleep, due to his sitting on that hard stone chair for so long. He wished he had his full vampire abilities already. Never again would his body annoy him.

He exited the gathering room, wandering through the dark and deserted corridors, towards his chambers.

Most Death Eaters had left, he knew, but some had stayed, either to sleep or to socialize with fellow Death Eaters. Voldemort didn't care.

And he would have ignored the voices he heard coming from the right-hand corridor, if it hadn't been for a female voice mentioning his name.

Curious, and always disposed to eavesdrop on his followers, he took a silent step forward until he could hear the conversation between his two Death Eaters.

'...it is truly a shame.', the male Death Eater was saying, not sounding like he was sorry in the least.

'I agree', the woman continued, 'I never thought he was so... vain.' She giggled.

The man laughed quietly. 'Vain is a fitting description of him. He's becoming more and more vain, using hair-growth potions and, did you see him tonight? He's grown himself a nose... a nose! I think he's forgetting what he should be doing. He has forgotten his duty to the wizarding world. His duty to us.'

The woman shushed him. 'You never know when He's listening!', she whispered frantically.

The man scoffed. 'The Dark Lord? He was reclining in his throne last time I saw him. He's probably growing himself a new...' He trailed off, laughing, glancing down at himself, making it unmistakably clear which part of the body he thought his Lord was currently regrowing.

'Care to repeat that, Travers?', Voldemort said softly, menacingly, stepping out of the shadows, making the woman emit a startled squeak.

The female Death Eater was looking at him with pleading eyes, falling to her knees. The man turned abruptly, eyes widening in horror at seeing the Dark Lord he had just been badmouthing.

'Selwynn. Travers.', Voldemort greeted his Death Eaters coldly.

Travers fell to his knees. 'My Lord, I didn't mean what I said! I-'

'Of course you meant what you said, Travers.', Voldmeort interrupted him smoothly, no emotion showing on his face.

Selwynn chanced a glance at him. 'My Lord, I wanted to stop him, I think he had no right to-'

'Silence. You don't want to anger me more by lying, do you?'

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head.

'Good.'

Crucio!

Travers began to scream, his body twisting violently on the floor. Voldemort could hear Selwynn starting to sob uncontrollably.

He lifted the curse, only to use it again, a moment later, on the sobbing Death Eater. Her high-pitched scream pierced his sensitive ears, making him end the curse quickly.

Voldemort suppressed a yawn. He was tired. His rage had dwindeled, had drained out of him while he used the Cruciatus Curse.

Looking down on the two heaps of his shaking followers, he didn't care anymore.

Bored, he lifted his wand and pointed it at the annyoing woman first.

Avada Kedavra!

Her sobbing was cut off as she died a quick death.

Travers wasn't going to be let off that easily, though. Moving his yew wand in a slashing motion, Voldemort slit his throat, careful not to kill him and adding multiple cuts all over the man's body.

Travers moaned weakly in pain.

Voldemort turned on his heel. The house elves would clean up the mess in the morning, when the man had bled dry.

Humming to himself, he continued on to his chambers.

888

A knock.

'Enter.', he called, annoyed and excited simultaneously. Needless to say, the latter didn't show on his face.

His spy at the ministry entered, hurriedly walking towards him and falling to his knees, casting his head downwards.

'My lord.', he whispered reverently.

'Rise.', Voldemort commanded coldly. 'What news do you bring from the ministry?'

The man had risen but didn't seem to be brave enough to look the Dark Lord in his face. Instead, he stared at the black stone floor.

'I have the information you needed, my Lord.' The man chanced a glance upward, checking Voldemort's reaction.

Voldemort had his red gaze fixed on his spy's face, his expression projecting indifference.

'Indeed...', he drawled.

The man fidgeted.

'Tell me.', Voldemort continued, becoming impatient at the man's continuous silence.

'Of course, my lord.', the man rushed to say, obviously fearing punishment. 'My contacts tell me that Dumbledore will be at the ministry in a week's time. All day.'

Voldemort perked up as he heard the last bit. All day... Hogwarts would be free of its headmaster for a whole day... he hadn't dared to hope that much.

A small smile stole its way onto his face, making his spy shake with fear. But the man had nothing to be afraid of. He was in his Lord's good graces, still.

'Leave, your information was valuable.'

The man smiled a little uneasily and left as quickly as he dared to, without appearing to be disrespectful.

Voldemort relaxed in his chair. The smile that had started as a small one, was growing until it turned into a grin, red eyes glittering. New powers were soon to be his... and Potter... Potter was just an additional perk.

888

A week later, a young man, blonde and handsome, clad in blue robes, apparated to the edge of Hogwarts' wards, making no sound. He didn't turn to look at the impressive castle to his left, entering the forest as if he had done the same many times.

And he had.

At first, his gait appeared a little unbalanced and difficult, as if he wasn't used to the shortness of his legs, but soon, he regained a flowing grace in his walking.

The blonde lifted his yew wand, pointed it at himself and a moment later, he had disappeared completely.

Soon, he reached the spot where he had met Potter the day before, but, as he had already feared, the young man was nowhere to be seen.

Sighing, Voldemort resigned himself to entering the castle.

888

Harry had been feeling restless for days. That was the reason why he didn't immediately feel the change in the air around him and in himself.

Restlessness turned into eagerness.

Excitement was bubbling in his stomach, making it clench uncomfortably.

Placing a hand on it and ignoring his odd, growing happiness, he quickened his pace, intent on getting to the Room of Requirement before Ron caught up with him.

Outside, the clouds parted, making the sun filter through the high windows, making small patches of light appear on the stone floor.

A warm breeze tickled Harry's neck and he looked behind himself, wondering where the air draft was coming from. All windows were closed.

He shook his head, forgetting about the warm wind and climbed another set of staircases.

Finally, Harry reached the right corridor. He walked the length of it, thinking intently about a room where he wouldn't be found.

Harry turned around, to walk past the invisible entrance to the Room of Requirement again.

Wind blew softly into his face, making him frown.

But the frown melted from his features as soon as he picked up the scent that the breeze carried. Darkness and power. Safety. His mate.

His eyes widening, he stopped in his tracks.

And suddenly, he was also aware of the happiness permeating his senses, blanking out all his previous thoughts. He wondered how he had been able to miss the feeling of his mate's proximity. It was so obvious that he was near.

Harry smiled a wild smile. He could smell that his mate wasn't there yet, but he could feel him approaching. His vampire side was becoming more and more agitated by the moment and Harry could feel his vampire traits attempting to break through Dumbledore's glamour.

He didn't care, didn't think.

His mate was coming, coming, coming to see him. Now! Today! His mate was finally coming.

Harry forgot that Ron was following him, forgot that he had wanted to enter the Room of Requirement.

The only thing he could think about was that his mate didn't hate him after all, didn't reject him.

His mate wanted him. The thought flooded him with its warmth.

Suddenly the scent of his mate intensified. So delicious...

Harry took a step into its direction.

And suddenly, the air on the other end of the corridor shimmered. The scent of his mate nearly overwhelmed Harry as, with joyful anticipation, he watched him appear.

Harry felt his pupils dilate.

His mate was blonde, taller than himself, older than him and- Harry caught his breath. So beautiful. So right... or not?

Harry wanted to run towards him, sink into his arms, tell him how much he had missed him, how much he needed to have him here with him.

But something felt wrong. Something was wrong.

No! Nothing was wrong! Looking into those dark eyes and smelling his mate's unique scent, Harry felt that unmistakable rightness again. All thoughts about the wrongness were forgotten.

His mate was looking at him with fathomless dark eyes, while Harry stood, frozen, caught in the moment, his wishes and desires tearing at the last shreds of control he possessed.

Forgetting himself, he launched himself forward.

His mate stayed still, watching him tear towards him with vampire speed with something akin to longing in his eyes.

Harry came to a halt a mere meter in front of his mate. This near, he smelled even better. He inhaled deeply.

He looked up into those dark eyes again, searching for acceptance, for permission for what he was about to do, for what he couldn't help but do.

His mate was visibly controlling himself, smiling hesitantly. Dark eyes were boring into Harry's, begging for something Harry wouldn't deny him. Didn't want to deny him.

Crossing the remaining distance between them, Harry took a step forward and leaned towards his mate.

His vampire side cried out in joy as, suddenly, the strong arms of his mate were around him, pulling him flush against him.

Ah, the scent, the touch, the-

Harry hesitated, feeling so lost, but oh, so protected and loved simultaneously.

Harry met his mate's eyes one last time, asking and answering unspoken questions, until neither he nor his mate could hold back anymore.

Their lips crashed together in a desperate kiss.

It felt like pure heaven, as liquid passion and fire ran through his veins, melting away his doubts and making him loose his inhibitions. He clung to his mate, his arms wrapped around him, never wanting to let go, never wanting to let those lips leave his, those heavenly lips.

Harry pressed himself against his mate, allowing himself to be ravished and to ravish the other in turn. It felt so good... so right... This was the best that had ever happened to him.

And he smelled so good... Harry lost himself in sensation, in the scent, the feel and the sight of his mate.

And still, their lips stayed locked, their arms around each other, their bodies entwined. Perfect...

The scent... so heavenly, dark... powerful... rancid? What? What smell was that, covering his mate's?

Harry freed himself, stepping out of his mate's arms. He smelled the air. Someone with a rancid, disgusting smell, a note of sweat in it, was approaching. And he knew immediately who it was.

Ron.

Growling fiercely, loosing the last shred of his humanity, he grabbed his stunned mate's arm, tugged at it to make him follow, and proceeded to pace the corridor in quick strides.

They walked along the corridor a third time and suddenly, the door appeared.

Harry hauled his mate into the room, throwing the door shut behind them.

Just as the door closed, Ronald Weasley rounded the corner.

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Voldemort was stunned. His mind had long ago given up processing the feelings Harry evoked, had long ceased to try and clear his head. He had become, just like Harry, lost in sensation.

And now, he had been rudely awakened from his momentary abandon. Harry had literally hauled him into this room- a room he didn't even know existed.

He watched as his mate- his dear, beautiful, perfect, amazing-tasting mate- cursed someone, turning back around to him.

'Ron...', he muttered in annoyance, 'Ron... you damn stalker...'

Voldemort took a step towards his mate.

Harry looked up immediately, seeming to forget about that 'damn stalker'.

Instead, he locked eyes with Voldemort, softening upon seeing him. 'I never thought my mate would be so beautiful...', he whispered reverently.

Something in him wanted to cry out and tell Harry that this glamour wasn't him, that he was someone else, that he was Lord Voldemort- that he was the one Harry loved not the man he appeared to be.

He forced that part of him into silence. His plan couldn't fail now.

Harry walked up to him slowly, tilting his face down towards him.

'My beautiful, perfect mate...', Harry said softly, lovingly tracing Voldemort's lips with his fingers, the human in him lost in the tides of rightness and happiness, of passion and fire.

Green eyes were nearly black and Voldemort could see the points of Harry's fangs.

He felt something stir inside him.

'My mate... my mate.'

Damn! He wasn't his mate! Voldemort was Harry's mate! He! Not that boring glamour! Harry shouldn't love the man he was pretending to be! He should love him! Him! Him, Lord Voldemort!

He didn't stop to contemplate the stupidity of being jealous of oneself or of what he was about to do.

With mindless possessiveness, he took Harry's face into his hands, looked into his dark green eyes and said the truth.

'I'm not your mate.'

'What?', Harry shook his head to free it from his grip. 'But you are! Didn't you feel it? Don't you smell it?'

His eyes searched his face. Voldemort hated himself for hurting him. But he wouldn't back down now. He needed Harry to love him.

Voldemort whipped out his wand, pointed it at himself and felt the glamour vanish. All the while, he watched Harry, who was staring at him in disbelief.

He watched as his mate looked at his changed appearance confusedly and immediately saw the realization dawn in his eyes.

Green eyes hardened. 'Voldemort!', he spat.

Feeling drained, suddenly, Voldemort met his burning gaze sadly. He forced himself to say it, facing the hatred directed at him, knowing that Harry wouldn't ever want him.

'I am your mate, Harry.'

-888-

Aw...

Review if you like!

Taranis