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Voldemort kept his attention on the food as he spoke.

"I didn't set out looking for this."

They'd finally made their way from the bed to the kitchen where they'd microwaved the lasagna Debra had made for dinner. They'd piled a large portion onto a plate with two forks and two glasses of water. Now they were back in the bed, Harry's bed. Voldemort sat up against the pillows and Harry sat in front of him with the plate between them. Harry asked.

"What do you mean?"

Voldemort took a sip of water and shifted. His ass ached. That sweet ache he hoped didn't go away too soon. He said softly,

"I don't want— I didn't want a relationship,"

He still didn't look at Harry. He speared some of the lasagna and forked it into his mouth. After a beat, Harry asked,

"What did you want?"

Voldemort looked up then, directly into Harry's intense stare.

"I just wanted to get off. It'd been a very long time since I had that kind of release. I was simply looking for that."

Harry nodded slowly as he chewed.

"But why me? What made you decide I was the one to give you what you needed?"

Voldemort shrugged.

"I watched you with the woman. Ginny. I just knew. You got me hot. Made me want to do anything so you could whip me like you were whipping her, but without that detached shit you had happening."

He smiled then and shook his head.

"I don't do this. Relationships. Harry…"

Harry just watched him, waiting for Voldemort to put what he felt into words. It wasn't easy. Nothing about this situation was. He whispered, looking back down at his plate.

"I play around. It's what I do. I mess around. I drink too much. Smoke too much."

He swallowed.

"I do harder stuff sometimes. I have toys that I use and throw away."

Jerking his head back up, he looked Harry in the eye.

"You were supposed to be the next in a long line of toys."

Harry studied him, dark, emerald eyes seeing everything.

"Things change, V. We're both learning that."

They did, but…

"I don't know how to do this."

Voldemort motioned between them and whispered,

"It scares me. The way I feel, the way you make me feel. It scares me."

Too much to put into words. He'd never had something to lose before. Harry leaned over and cupped Voldemort's jaw.

"You're not the only one, V. I want you. I'd do anything to keep you here, in my bed. I want you here."

Voldemort nodded.

"I want to be here."

He wanted to hide away between the sheets, never coming out to face the real world. His world.

"Are you going to share the reason for that bruise on your face?"

Voldemort shrugged.

"Fight with my Uncle."

One of Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"Your Uncle did that to you?"

Voldemort stared down at his plate, pushing the food around.

"Morfin wants more than I'm comfortable giving him."

He paused and then spoke,

"I had a man killed today."

Harry tensed, but Voldemort kept going, kept talking. If Harry wanted him, he had to know who Voldemort was.

"He knew too much about my business."

He barked a harsh laugh.

"He got arrested for killing his wife because she was prostituting to keep their family afloat. She confessed to him who she worked for and he beat her so badly, he almost decapitated her. I had him killed. Wished I could have done it myself."

Harry forked the last piece of abandoned lasagna into his mouth. Voldemort looked at him. His face was carefully blank. And it hurt, but Voldemort couldn't stop talking, couldn't stop the words from bubbling up from his throat, all bitter and filled with self-hatred.

"I didn't do it because he hurt Katie. I did it because he knew something about me that could hurt me."

He shook his head and spoke harshly

"I couldn't have that. I protect myself. I protect what's mine. Any means necessary, Harry. Any means necessary."

Harry's lips parted, but Voldemort didn't let him speak.

"I'm not a nice person. I'm not easy to handle. I do bad things. I do it every day."

Harry's eyes narrowed,

"Huh. Is this the part where I cut my losses? Where I walk away? Where I leave you to self-destruct?"

Voldemort didn't know.

"I don't know."

Voldemort's eyes watered.

"I wouldn't mind if you did."

The words were like hot ash on his tongue, burning.

"I wouldn't hold it against you if you did, Harry."

Harry swiped the empty plate to the floor and clasped Voldemort's throat in one hand.

"Yeah? I'd hold it against you if you let me leave. I'd hold it against you if you let me walk away, V."

His nostrils flared, anger tightening his grip on Voldemort's neck.

"I'd hold it against you."

Voldemort trembled. Violently. Shaking until his teeth chattered. He couldn't stop, not until Harry wrapped him in his arms, held him against his naked chest. Voldemort buried his face in Harry's throat.

"Don't leave,"

He muttered the words into Harry's skin, but Voldemort knew the other man heard.

"Don't walk away."

A tremor shook Harry's arm where he held Voldemort. He kissed Voldemort's head, his ear.

"Never…Never, V."

He made it sound like a promise, like something Voldemort could count on. Voldemort wanted to count on Harry's word. He let Harry push him backward on the bed and roll him atop him. Voldemort took the kisses and the whispered words of comfort, and as he sank down onto Harry's shaft, he pretended he didn't hear the warning bells going off in the back of his head.

After Voldemort left the next morning, not before agreeing to a date with Harry for that evening, Harry checked in with Sirius to get a report on how things were going with the Russians. Things looked good on that end, perhaps because of Sirius's assurance that they'd secured another avenue to get the marijuana down to their potential business partners.

Harry let Sirius handle his business. His Godfather was good at all the fast talk and shmoozing needed for that anyway. He needed to figure out the best way to tell Voldemort who he was. The best way to explain. He tried to put himself in the man's shoes, in Voldemort's mindset, to sort of gauge how Voldemort would react. None of it was favourable.

All of it ended up with Harry losing out on something he could really see himself having. He wanted to be with Voldemort. He wanted to build something, but how? Last night was amazing. Beyond amazing. Then they'd talked and Voldemort's insecurities had shown themselves. He'd lash out. If he saw Harry's actions as betrayal, he'd lash out. Harry didn't know how to contain that. Maybe he shouldn't try to contain it, just speak the truth and let the chips fall where they may. He'd put himself in this predicament after all. He'd known full well what he was doing. It ached, the knowledge that he'd be hurting Voldemort. The last thing he wanted. He stared out unseeing onto the streets of London below. What was the best way to tell Voldemort? An idea formed in his brain and he jolted up right, spinning around in his chair to buzz his assistant

"Get me Dean Thomas's number, please."

"Yes, sir."

Fifteen minutes later, he hung up the phone. Before the weekend was up, Voldemort would know Harry's true identity. He'd also know how Harry felt about him, and the ball would be in Voldemort's court. He picked up his cell phone and searched for the number Voldemort had programmed into his phone before he left.

"Hey"

He felt very much like a teenager when he'd thought all that mess was behind him. Anticipation and fear cramped his stomach, made his palms sweat.

"Hey there, Mr. Potter."

It did something to Harry when Voldemort called him Mr. Potter. Everything Voldemort did got to him. He wasn't willing to give it up.

"How's your day looking, V?"

He was willing to do whatever was necessary to keep this silly grin on his face. To keep his heart beating faster and his pulse racing. He was in love. He knew it. He had always thought that falling in love would be slow and sweet but with Voldemort, it was like a baseball bat upside the head, these feelings. They completely swamped him, made him want different things, made him want to be different. How could he do that? Would he be allowed to do that after Voldemort learned the truth, or would Harry have to fight Voldemort to be allowed to love him?

"It's much better now that I've heard your voice."

That right there was what Harry wanted to hear.

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