Harry hadn't just crossed a line; he'd taken a huge two-footed leap over it. He told himself it was only lust, arousal, finishing in relief, that's all it was, but as he gazed at the bite mark around his finger, his stomach rumbled with unease. The wound was scabbed over. It looked better than the day before, and the day before that. Four days had passed since he gave into temptation, and although Voldemort didn't press him for more, or taunt, Harry felt it bubbling beneath the surface.

He wanted more.

Harry sighed and moved his attention back to the crossword. He'd reread the clues several times, but nothing was going in. The last few days were on repeat in Harry's head.

They'd washed, they'd cooked, cleaned up; Voldemort had disappeared several times and Harry had spent that time watching the birds flying free through the binoculars. When Voldemort returned, they'd come together at night, no longer separately, but pressed together. Voldemort rubbed Harry's shoulders, played with his hair, comforted him, and frustrated him, too. Harry had no idea how to instigate more, and every time temptation almost got the better of him, he scowled at himself, and willed his desires to settle down.

The door to the kitchen opened, and Voldemort walked in… He was dressed in his black robes…The ones he usually wore when he was meeting his death eaters. Voldemort walked closer to him and leaned down to see the crossword.

"You've not done any?"

"It's hard."

"Well you're certainly not 6 letters, a person with special knowledge."

Harry scrunched his face, thought really hard, then wagged the pen at Voldemort,

"Expert."

"Maybe you are slightly improving … slightly."

Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair,

"I've been distracted."

Voldemort flashed his confident smile and then dropped the latest copy of the Daily Prophet on top of the one Harry had been staring at. He quickly flicked through the pages to get to the new crossword, ignoring the ordinary front-page headline.

"We should have a pasta dish for lunch…"

"Sounds good."

"And this for when you're ready."

Harry looked up and saw the bottle in Voldemort's hand. His confusion must have been apparent on his face because Voldemort spoke,

"It's lube."

He didn't comment, but he imagined his face said a thousand words. He felt hot, and sweaty, and that was the mere suggestion of sex. Then he looked down at the newspaper…trying to distract himself….

Voldemort added softly,

"Only if you want to… We've not got long left together…"

Panic flared inside his chest at being separated from Voldemort. Harry scrunched his face and began massaging his temples. Voldemort came up behind him and took over.

"I did not mean to stress you out."

Harry sighed, accepting his touch,

"Yes, you did… You wanted to stress me out."

"Okay, maybe a little. Time's ticking away … counting down."

"I'm doing my best not to think about it."

Voldemort moved his attention from Harry's temples, to his tight shoulders,

"We could have ice cream for dessert."

"Ice cream?"

"Yes…Don't you want any?"

"Let's not be too hasty."

Voldemort chuckled,

"Ice cream, brownies, chocolate sauce, cream, and a wafer."

"You're kidding right?"

"No… It's actually one of my favorite desserts."

"Your preferences are nothing akin to a Dark Lord's."

"Maybe I enjoy indulging myself in your presence…"

Harry rested his head on the table,

"You're spoiling me."

Voldemort agreed,

"I'm spoiling you, but only if you eat all your vegetables."

"You're such a patronizing bastard."

"Cursing is not allowed in my domain."

"What are you going to do, chain me up in the dungeons?"

"Don't tempt me."

Sometimes Harry thought things would've been simpler, if Voldemort had just chained him up in some dungeon. He wouldn't have started to like him and crave his company.

Voldemort let Harry's shoulders go. He moved to the sink, filled up a glass, then downed the lot in one. He conjured a set of letters and Harry recognized them as his,

"Your owl delivered them during the night when you were sleeping."

Harry clunked his wrist against the arms of the chair. Voldemort took notice and hurried to uncuff him.

"Sorry, sometimes I forget."

"Yeah, so do I."

When he was free, he leaned back in his seat and had just closed his eyes when Voldemort inquired,

"Does it bother you that I correspond with your friends whilst masquerading as you?"

Harry shook his head silently and after a while spoke,

"No…I'm terrible at lying."

Voldemort chuckled,

"You managed to lie till the end of your last term and kept my return a secret…You are a very capable liar."

He didn't reply to that and merely continued his silent brooding as Voldemort began to pen down the responses. It felt like a long time until he felt Voldemort gently cup his face and lift his chin,

"Do not get upset over what I just said…"

Harry opened his eyes and couldn't help but growl,

"It's the truth…Why would I be upset?"

He tried to turn his head, but Voldemort gripped onto him with both hands.

"Harry…You are very special to me and I do not particularly enjoy seeing you upset."

"I don't even know why I care… And for the record, I'm not special…If I were special, you'd let me say your real name, but you don't…"

Voldemort clamped a hand over his mouth, and he went silent immediately. For a moment, they just held each other's gaze and then Voldemort removed his hand from his mouth and cupped his cheek before speaking softly,

"Say it."

Harry gulped nervously as he looked down in his lap. He wasn't sure if it was a trap or not. Voldemort couldn't be serious…He'd told him in the chamber of secrets that he'd despised that name…

Voldemort caressed a spot underneath his ear and leaned closer to him until he could feel his breath ghosting over his lips,

"Say my name, Harry."