Disclaimer: When you see things that others can't, I suppose it means that you can't own anything significant.
Disclaim her: Love is destructive.
Note: Out of character with: Harry, Voldemort…
Rating: M for Mature. Why do I even bother to give a warning…
Point of View: First.
"speech" thoughts and/or mind speech (Harry and Voldemort) Parseltongue
I do not own the quote below.
A/N: The unspoken words sometimes give the most meaning.
Chapter 26: Love
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"Are you happy?" He asks quietly as he gently strokes my hair. I am currently leaning against his shoulder at peace with myself, which has never happened before.
"Happy about what? What do you…mean?" My voice neither rises nor falls: I have not regained the energy to perform any kind of activity. It has been three days. He doesn't know about the issue with my magic. At least, I hope he doesn't. But even if he did…he hasn't said anything.
"Are you happy being here with me? You didn't…?"
"Yes…I am." I reply softly and ignore the insinuation of his last statement. His fingers run across my palm making me want to shiver when I am unable to. He is lukewarm now, not the deathly cold that he was before though I know for a fact that he is not of a normal body temperature. He's not okay…
"I'm okay…you don't have to worry about me…honest."
He's not; I'm not…No one is. How…sad. A bitter chuckle escapes my lips and his fingers curl around my own tightly in apprehension; he's worried.
"Is everything all right?"
"Of course; why would it not?"
He presses his lips to my forehead and lifts me into his arms. My legs hit each other and my head folds inward so my chin hits my chest. I've finally realized what was bothering me all this time and that I could not put a name to. I have that Muggle ailment they call anorexia.
I'm just empty through and through.
Wind whistles through the hollow place within myself where my magic should be, and my senses fail me once more. I can't seem to concentrate as he sets me at the dining room table and I know that I should not be seeing sounds. How…odd. Colors morph into once familiar figures, and it is possibly minutes later when I come to grips with the fact that this was only because he replaced my glasses.
You're so stupid. Tell him what's happened to you. Let him help you.
He won't like it.
And? It doesn't matter any. Just tell him the truth.
My head lies against the back of the chair as I watch him from the corner of my eye pull a chair up beside me. He's…this is so humiliating. He raises the spoon to my lips and I open my mouth just slightly in obedient compliance. I can do nothing else. I…just wish…
"…Tom…?"
"Yes?" He tilts a glass of water to my lips as well, and I nearly can't swallow the liquid.
"I need…to tell you something."
"What is it?"
My eyes meet his from an impossible angle and he gazes at me with such worry I want to cry. This isn't right. He shouldn't be taking care of me like this! Oh God… "My magic…remember I told you…something had happened…?"
"Yes, but I remember that you wouldn't elaborate on the matter."
I turn my eyes to the ceiling where I play a nice imaginative game with myself where I am a perfect pretty role model for all the other little wizarding boys. "…My magic…is gone."
The silence I am presented with is earth shattering. My mind shuts into itself with reckless abandon and I am left in the horrible aloneness of the quiet and him. All alone.
"…What?"
"…It's gone." I reply in a whisper and madness hangs in the eaves draping itself like one of those soul-stealers' shadows.
"How can it be gone…? What did you do?" He asks fearfully almost as if he doesn't want to know the answer.
"I tried…to remove my soul…before this."
"When?!" His voice is a wail that breaks the eerie calm settled into the woodwork of the dining hall.
"Days ago…I can't remember precisely…"
The silence returns once more and my existence is uneasy in this change in him: he's not giving me some tearful lecture.
"Tom?"
"What do you want me to say? Christ, I never would have thought…oh God."
I knew it; I knew it all along. What a two faced- "So this is the end?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I knew you wouldn't like it."
"Who would? What you tried to do is even worse than death…!"
"And you wouldn't know about that, would you?" My voice hovers on anger and other emotions I cannot convey correctly.
"No, I wouldn't. I have never died." He replies and the spoon he sets down into the bowl makes a dull chink against the china.
"Are you upset with me…?"
"Don't you already know the answer to that question?" He asks and out of the corner of my eye I watch as he leans back in his own chair with a resigned sigh. I wish he would strike me; he's never hit me after all, has he?
"This explains…just about everything." His words tumble around in my head for moments, but I still cannot understand what he means. What was there to explain to begin with? "But it doesn't help me understand what's happened with your-"
It's like a switch hits in my head right when he utters his words so I become deaf when I see his lips form the words I know he is saying. However, then my hearing returns and his utterance remains unacknowledged. I'm not crazy; I'm just not like everybody else.
I'm…fine.
I'm happy even.
How dare you lie to yourself like that?! You don't even know what it means to be happy!
No. I'm happy.
LIAR! My mind loses all composure as it becomes beside itself in anger and it in turn procures a disastrous headache to fog my senses once more.
I must have made some kind of sound because he is at my side holding me against him in an instant so fast that I cannot measure the time. I can hear his heart beat with that distressed rhythm of worry again as pain strikes me second after bloody second and some fragment of worry comes to me this time.
"It's okay…it's okay…I'll make it go away."
He slides a hand into my hair and a small smile tries to form onto my features as a result. He doesn't understand this…pain.
"Pain? What's wrong?"
"…My head hurts…that's all."
"…You shouldn't be in pain. All sensation in your body should be numbed."
You're not happy.
"…Help me up…please. …I want to stand."
Yes, that's it, prove me wrong.
"You can't; what are you talking about?"
I'm not a fucking invalid! "…Please…help me stand."
He rises in apparent exasperation as he pushes back his chair and pulls out my own. He throws my arms around his neck and I remain limp against him as my feet touch the wooden floor.
I cannot convey the proper messages from my brain to my limbs, and I want to scream out in frustration: this shouldn't be so hard.
"I told you; you don't have the ability to do that right now."
I will not be weak! I have the ability to stand up for myself but I can't access it! Damn it! My…magic shouldn't matter! I don't need it…!
"…Do you want me to try and help you?"
"Yes."
The Dark Lord sighs almost in surrender as he places the palm of his hand directly over my heart and an unexpected flood of power strikes through my chest and through the rest of my limbs. My lips part in surprise and my head strikes backward causing an awful strain on my neck.
In that process, my arms slip from his neck and my legs buckle and give out from under me. My bottom hits the carpet and the rest of myself slumps forward.
"Try to rise now." There is a swish of fabric and his fingers grasp my own as he pulls me without a seeming effort to my feet. Oddly enough, even though I do sway for a few horrid moments, I do not fall. His grip on my fingers slips and I realize that he's breathing laboriously.
I twist my neck so I am gazing upwards and look up directly into his eyes. A smile shakes dangerously on his features and after a moment disappears entirely.
"I am very tired," he says quietly and I take a wobbly step forward without meaning to. My foot meets the ground solidly and a small piece of my pride complex regenerates and blossoms deep behind my conscious thoughts.
"What did you do?" I inquire almost gently, and I watch as his frame tilts to the side and he stumbles as he loses his balance.
"Will you take me upstairs…? I'm afraid I don't believe I will be able to."
"All you had to do was ask," I reply and my next steps waver but hold firm to the ground as I take hold of his forearm and begin to lead him shakily upstairs. No resistance is formed and I have half a mind to ponder why.
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There is a meeting…I should…go…?
No. I have no place there. It's not right.
Go, you stupid child. It is your rightful place to stand beside him.
You're wrong.
GO.
I pull the hood of my cloak over my face and open the door that adjoins the meeting hall and the small hall I am standing in. The voices that I heard moments before cease at my entrance and I shut the door quietly behind me.
He sits in his seat on the dais and all Death Eaters turn to face me as I take one step after another to where he sits. One of my legs feels like it is about to collapse on me and I curse the fact of myself not retaining my magical strength.
I mustn't fall!
My footsteps are soft on the stone and I climb the few steps to where he sits painstakingly slow in the effort to not collapse upon my own face. And the deathly silence pertains to only heighten my anxiety. I reach the top and stand before him forcing every last bit of control over my body in order to not tilt to the side.
His lipless mouth nearly seems to form a smile, and I can't bear to move. In another scenario formed by my deceitful mind, he pulls a wand and uses the Killing Curse on me. But this is not now.
I watch as his arm snakes out and reaches for my own as he proceeds to stand. He sets me onto his seat and stands at my right. How…ironic.
Mutters break out for moments but the Dark Lord makes no motion to stop them and as they see him standing in front of them calmly, the whispers dissipate almost immediately. His spider like fingers grasp my shoulder very gently and my mind flickers like a dying light bulb at the calming force spreading through my limbs.
Don't worry love, they won't attack you; half already know who you are anyway.
I'm not afraid. I just…felt like I should come. Are you……angry with me?
Of course not; you're being ridiculous.
In my devious and cold-blooded mind, the Dark Lord's nails pierce my shoulder and dig in to break my collarbone. Why am I taking in these different possibilities as real?
His voice breaks into my rambling thoughts sharply and I look up as a result.
"This is my partner. He will be treated as my equal and is my second-in-command. If I hear of any word that he is not being treated as such, my wrath will be hell. Am I clear? The Dark Lord says in a dangerous voice that I have never heard before.
Can you see Bellatrix child? Can you see her glaring at you? My mind whispers snidely and I search her out. The woman shifts her stance restlessly and I can see her pale brown eyes narrowed through her Death Eater mask. I'll kill her.
With what? You don't have any magic. Are you going to get a Muggle handgun and shoot her? The jab by mind is cut throat and I don't have an immediate reply to counter it.
"I have called you here in order to clarify a few matters on the attack of the Hogwarts castle. Fenrir, Remus you two will be with the other werewolves in the Forbidden forest awaiting Avery's signal. You have my permission to do whatever is necessary to subdue the students. Severus, you will open the gate for Black, the Lestranges, and the rest to get into the school. Most of the teachers have turned so they will most likely offer you no resistance. If a student gets in your way, you will kill them. However, if you find a girl called Hermione Granger, she is to be taken prisoner.
And for the old man. He is mine but if Dumbledore joins the fray, avoid fighting him at all costs and Disapparate to the forest. I will take down the wards in order for you to do so. And Lucius, you will be with me and my partner." Here he pauses and I feel his gaze on my head. I shift slightly and look up to meet his eyes and watch as a tiny smile forms on his lipless mouth.
You want me to tell them who you are?
Who cares?
My mind giggles in the back round at those words. Some are going to consider this an ultimate betrayal. The Dark Lord and Harry Potter. Who would have thought?
You really don't mind? He asks once again.
Nope. I mutter quietly and swat away my teasing mind, which holds a picture of Voldemort holding up my severed head to the crowd watching below him. …Guillotine?
"I know many of you are wondering who my partner is and I will show you." he pulls my hood down and my face is in view for all to see.
Many people gasp, but an equal number remain silent. I know how I must appear to them because I looked at myself in a mirror in passing on my way here. My face is haggard, that is the only proper way to describe it as I found I could feel my cheekbones as if there was merely a layer of some kind of thin plastic separating it and my fingers. My eyes are dulled and there are bags under them, my hair falls to my shoulders in waves and my glasses are crooked with the lens on one part almost completely cracked through.
A vague smile finds my face and stretches the skin to make me look, I only know because I did this in the said mirror, dead.
"There will be no attempts on his life. Am I clear?"
Murmurs of agreement scatter throughout the room and I tilt my head to the side so I am leaning against the arm that rests on my shoulder.
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I've really gotten thin.
I stand in the nude in front of the body length mirror in the middle of the room looking at myself for no real reason.
The white scars on my arms stand out clearly and the one on my chest from you is nearly an ugly sort of pale yellow. There is what appears to be a bruised area right above my heart, which I think is from my attempt to pull out my soul. It still hasn't gone away…
My ribs protrude clearly from my chest and I notice another scar, no quite as clear as any of the others on my lower abdomen. I've…never seen it before.
A strangled laugh escapes my lips as I turn and look at the back of myself. There are countless scars on my lower back and an extremely vile one on the back of my leg inches below my right buttock. There are some nasty scars on the backs of my legs as well. My legs are as stick thin as are my arms and I can feel every single bone in them.
As I turn back around, I realize that I'm not wearing the pendant he gave me. Where did it go…?!
The door of the bedroom abruptly opens and I turn my head to see the Dark Lord walk in. He doesn't immediately, or at least I think he doesn't, seem to recognize my presence. As he shuts the door, he turns and I see his eyes widen in surprise and, to my surprise, in embarrassment.
I turn back to the mirror and watch in reverse view as he comes to stand behind me. His eyes are on my face and a crooked smile comes to my features as I stare at him in his Voldemort guise.
"Are you all right?"
"You like this?" I ask softly gesturing vaguely to my frame. "I'm revolting…why could anyone…"
"It's not your fault that you can't eat."
My mind sniggers rudely and presents yet another scenario for me to look at where the Dark Lord stabs me with a knife in the back.
…The blade goes all the way through.
It's never your fault, is it, you stupid boy?
I don't say anything, and I still don't say anything as he places his arms loosely around my waist. I lean into him like a wraith caught on a branch merely waiting for the wind to blow it away.
"Strip." I say quietly, almost to myself.
"What?" His voice appears startled.
"Strip."
"Why?"
The figure in the mirror smiles but I don't as the words form on my lips. "Just because."
"You're sure…?"
"Yes."
He removes his arms from around my waist and I watch as he moves a little ways away from me and begins to undress carefully. Garment after garment falls to the floor and my eyes remain transfixed on him. He stops at his boxers and meets my gaze through the reflection in the mirror; I have not looked at him face to face since he entered the room.
As I meet his gaze unblinkingly, he steps out of the last piece of clothing on his body and returns to his position of remaining halfway behind me while his arms encircle me as before. His bare frame presses lightly against me from behind and I nearly tense from years of conditioning.
"If you're uncomfortable, I'll move away."
"I'm fine." My eyes drift downward to where his fingers are interlocked together and pull one arm up and disband his hands to intertwine my own fingers with the ones of his right hand. "From the state I am in right now, realistically speaking, if we had sex I would probably get hurt, wouldn't I?"
His eyes drift off to the side. "…Most likely."
"Do you want to see?"
"…What?" His ruby eyes return and meet my own quickly.
"Do you want to try and see if I would get hurt?"
"No, because I already know you will. Why are you asking anyway? I know…you don't want to do those kinds of things…with me."
"…I'm just curious. And you're mistaken."
"About what?"
"About that." In the mirror, my face smiles back at me with the palm pressed against the glass of the mirror world like a figure half-dead. "Touch me."
"You can't be serious." His features freeze.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Scratch that. I'm smiling in the mirror, aren't I?
You're hallucinating.
Shut up!
"…I can't."
"Let me guess, it's because-" I mutter softly.
"It's not because of that!" he says quickly, desperately.
I am not weak!
Yes you are.
"Then why?" 'Because you think I'm weak.'
"Because…" The known unspoken words lie heavy in the air and I flinch away from my mind's brutal mental slap.
Because he can't bear the thought of lying with you.
Shut the hell up!
He pulls me away from the mirror and leads me to the bed where he easily picks me up and settles me on the sheets. He climbs in after me in a careful sort of way and I sit up just because I feel uncomfortable lying down at the moment.
The Dark Lord presses his lips to my cheek gently and I do nothing. He then kisses me properly and I lift a hand and press it to the back of his neck. He is still so cold.
He has not closed his eyes, so I am looking directly into his ruby ones; I find that they're just as blank as my own. He then pulls my cracked glasses from my face but I find that I can still see him just as before only now the Dark Lord is a little blurry around the edges.
His tongue is against my lips and I open my mouth slightly to give him access to what he wants and he and I play a game of sorts within my mouth for a while after which he gains dominance and pins my tongue to the roof of my mouth as before.
I watch as he pulls back slightly and leans his head against my own.
"You weren't pulling a stunt."
"Nope."
He kisses me again but this time with more force, and with the hand that is on his neck, I pull him down on top of me and cause him to make a pained sort of sound in the back of his throat.
…But it doesn't matter. I can't…I don't know what it is. Something is wrong.
…This time I pull him to me, and I kiss him chastely multiple times before pulling back. The Dark Lord kisses me on the neck and lets his fingers trail across my chest and down my side, making me repress a shiver as he meets my thigh. But after that he draws off me, and I reach a hand out to pull him back.
But he dodges my arm and I watch through an almost haze as his spider-like fingers touch the inner part of my thigh fleetingly. He continues to touch me in such a manner until an urge to kick him from the way he prolongs the matter but at the same time makes a twisted feeling gather in my lower abdomen.
His Voldemort guise face forms a small smile as he looks at me; he morphs into the Glamour form.
"Which one do you like better?"
"I don't really care."
Nevertheless, his hand drifts away and he edges up the bed in an oddly appealing fashion, causing my mind gives a bout of rough laughter.
He falls on his side next to me, and I meet his burning gaze out of the corner of my eye. He arm inches up and falls on my abdomen where he begins to trace circling, intangible patterns across my skin. However, his eyes remain on my face, hawk-like and predatory.
"Do you want me to stop touching you?" his voice is quiet.
I frown. "……Whenever you touch me, you don't touch me."
I can't explain it. This isn't touching…it's like something impersonal, like he can't connect properly. It's like he's distancing himself from me no matter how many times he's put his skin to mine.
Something flickers in his eyes as I turn my head toward him. "Do you understand me, or does it sound like I've finally cracked?"
A zealous smile comes to his face and I blink at the change in him. "I wasn't sure if you would notice." The room suddenly seems to get about fifteen degrees hotter as he removes his hand from me and my mind abruptly silences itself. "The touch didn't seem to 'connect'…the fact that you were aware of that proves that you are ready to be with me. If you didn't take notice than it would have meant that you still needed to recover from him."
He gives a wordless smile and I feel myself flush in embarrassment.
He moves himself so he is straddling my waist, and this time his touch on me in fire. I can't hold back my wordless moan from the contact of his cock with mine and distantly I hear his burning hiss.
Soulmates.
Yessssss. My words drag out in a hiss just like his own as he bends down and kisses me passionately. His hands make contact with everywhere on my upper body while I want nothing more than for him touch me where he knows I need it.
His fingers graze my neck as he places an odd assortment of butterfly kisses around my neck and down my collarbone. He kisses the scar of the sword on my chest and I feel magic touch that very spot a split second later.
His aura is even more overpowering than it was before, and it reaches out to seek my own which hides behind my fractured soul. His aura draws at my own and painstakingly pulls it little by little out in the open to where it should have been before.
I nearly scream in the sensation of magic touching magic and it does not occur to me at the time that I have gotten my magical energy back. He kisses me feverishly on the lips again and I feel his arm trail down my skin again only this time it scorches me.
His fingers are on fire as he touches my cock, and he rubs my length and then cups me within his fingers. Coherent thoughts desert me as he pulls me up from the bed and tugs me into his lap, and I give a muffled groan into his shoulder as he runs as hand up and down my back, caressing me in such a manner that he causes my back to arch and for me to throw my head back in ecstasy.
I want to melt in the feelings he procures in me.
"What is it?" His voice is rough with desire and my insides twist in unexplainably in what I think is pleasure.
"I don't know. I'm-" A small laugh from myself chokes off my words, and I smile genuinely up at him.
"What?"
"I'm at ease." I say with the smile still on my features: the words feel funny on my tongue.
He whispers something stupid into my ear, and I laugh again while pulling my body up from its arch; I place a hand on his cheek. He turns his head slightly and presses his lips to my palm and the heavy and suffocating mood returns with its sense of urgency.
The Dark Lord has his hands on my backside once more and I unthinkingly wind my arms around his neck while he pulls me closer to him, which is all I really want. I want to be as close to him as is humanly possible. Frustrated, I let out an irritated groan into his shoulder and my arms around his neck tighten.
He appears to understand my distress and his hand wanders farther down my back and settles somewhere below my waist. His voice is low when he speaks and makes me shiver. "I'll go slow. If you start to feel uncomfortable, tell me and I'll stop."
I bury my face into his shoulder and my words come out trembling. "……….I'm…………afraid." Why should I lie about such a matter?
"It will be all right; I promise." His whisper makes me cling tighter to him and I force myself to not start shaking.
Relax.
His fingers quest my backside for several moments when I abruptly feel it.
My body tenses automatically and my nails dig sharply into his back as he moves in me slowly and unhurriedly. I unwind from the nerve-wracking spiral I shot myself into and my body gradually settles down: it doesn't hurt…it just feels strange.
That's my boy.
The Dark Lord adds another digit into me and I tense momentarily only because the reflex is automatic. After I relax again, he begins to spread his fingers inside me, stretching me and loosening the tension that had gathered. There is a fluttery feeling in my stomach making me content and I close my eyes against his shoulder. I am…
He inserts a third and final finger into me and this time my body remains relaxed against his. But then he hits something so unlike I've never felt that my eyes snap open in surprise and I give a startled cry from the breathtaking emotion that hits me.
He continues to carefully stretch me for a few moments until he unexpectedly removes his fingers from my body. My eyes, which had been closed again, open warily but I do not sit up. Lying against him creates the concept of being at ease, and I like this foreign emotion that frees me of worry.
Are you ready?
…Yes. Just please…don't hurt me.
I'll go slowly, okay? Just tell me if you want me to stop.
…All right. If I had spoken out loud, my voice would have shaken badly.
Voldemort lifts me up a little and shifts slightly so I in turn see his member. For a moment, panic strikes me: how could that possibly fit inside me? And now since he's moved, I want to see what he's going to do even though I already found out about this whole process the hard way.
The moment he starts to push into me I feel as if something is going to tear in me because of the pain and it takes a great effort to not choke up a sob and start crying. I want to tell him to stop…!
When he's buried to the hilt, it's then I realize that my nails are digging into his back so hard that I've actually broken the skin and drawn blood.
"If it hurt that much why didn't you tell me to stop?" He draws back and holds me at an arm's length to gaze at me. I don't meet his eyes precisely, but he grips my chin and forces me to look him in the eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me to stop?" his voice is little more than a whisper and I pull away from him and bury my head into his neck.
Will you let me get used to the feeling? …It still hurts a little.
"You still want to do this?" He asks incredulously.
"I know you're not doing this intentionally……it's not your fault that this hurts. I'm sorry……I'm so pathetic. …I'm sorry."
"Oh, love, it isn't your fault. Don't apologize," he murmurs as he shifts so he can lay me down onto the bed. Through this, he shifts inside me, causing him to hit the place he did before, but this time it is far lighter. A stifled groan manages to barely pass my lips and my previous pleasure suddenly spikes up again as I abruptly arch up.
Where I was once cold I burn and as he takes silent understanding on this not so subtle way of telling him to continue, I reach up and wind my arms around him as before. He spreads my legs and I wrap them around his waist, which causes him to consequently sink deeper into me. I give a broken wordless moan in Parseltongue and he hisses back syllables that mean nothing but only serve to stimulate the feeling in my abdomen to awaken.
I loosen my legs a little as he pulls back and his thrust back into me is sharp with force and I am startled again as he hits that place of pleasure within my body hard and I give an uncontrolled cry of rapture. As he thrusts back into me again, I use my legs to pull him further into me as I push the heels of my feet with strength I did not know that I had previously had into the middle of his back. Doing this only serves to make me arch my back and so every time that he drives into me, he slams into the place that is now making me scream in ecstasy.
His rhythm becomes faster but all the while, we stay in perfect sync and the feeling in my abdomen begins to threaten to overwhelm me. His increasing in pitch moans match my screams and his aura touches with mine and I feel the merging of all magic and life together as I feel myself getting closer and closer to I feel as if I am going to overflow. The Dark Lord proceeds to give a few more hap hazardous thrusts into me before I hear his sudden keening cry in Parseltongue as he releases into me and as a result causes me to find my own release as well.
Voldemort pants for a few good moments until I pull his down on top of me from the fact that I know that he wouldn't collapse on me voluntarily. His breathing returns to normal after a few minutes along with my own as we both replenish our oxygen deprived lungs. He then makes to pull out of my body and somewhere along that moment I realize that I have regained my magical abilities and my magic itself because I wish the splatter of my seed on him away and it actually disappears.
He lies on his side with ruby eyes half-lidded, and he draws me toward him wearily with care as he enfolds me gently into his arms and I hear him fall asleep gradually. This is a feeling that is right. Every piece of everything in my pathetic deprived body has gained an equal just like in whole I have gained a partner. I am no longer empty inside; I'm complete and whole and at peace.
I'm at peace.
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A.O.T.I.F.: This was so frustrating and I'm not talking about the chapter! I'm so sorry I didn't update! All this crap was going on, I didn't have any time to do anything, and I tried really hard too! These teachers at my school are ridiculous! I don't need to write a page or five on symbolism in the book Lord of the Flies! (kicks desk) (pause)
(sighs) O-kay, I'll stop ranting now, sorry.
Anyways, if any of you reviewers are still there (hopeful look up), thanks for bearing with me!
This chapter was a bitch to write now that I think about it only because there was so many random things going on, etc. The sentences are a bit fragmented as well. Again, I'm sorry.
And for those perverts out there, get over yourselves and don't flame me because I didn't but enough description into the last scene. I was tired and it was again two o' clock in the morning. I just wanted to finally finish this chapter after not posting for about two months and if you still flame, screw you!
I hope you're happy though, after wasting my time for who knows how long, because Harry and Voldemort finally screwed and thus a new phase in their relationship. (laughs) No worries however, this is going to end soon as I said before.
Please review.