I'm not sure where this came from… It's a conversation between two unnamed people, though you should be able to figure it out easy enough. (or if you're a cheater like me, you'll have found this through other ways and already know who the people are. It's short. Very short. And it's a new style for me -almost nothing but dialogue. Action is very minimal; they sit in chairs, they talk. Blame it on my still being awake at 5am when I should have gone to sleep hours ago… There are a few little slashy hints, but they're barely there and can be ignored if you wish.
Rating: PG-13 for and psychological oddness (reading this may cause damage to your mental health)
Disclaimer: same as always, blah blah blah…
Warnings: Knowledge of things after the first book would help immensely…
Deliver Me Into…
"Oh. It's you again. You're looking...the same as always. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
The boy laughed, cocking his head to one side, "And you, my friend, are looking worse and worse each time I see you. No proper greeting for my today? No 'My, you're looking lovely,' or 'Hullo there, it's been a while, hasn't it?'" He smiled mockingly as he sat in a chair facing his host. "Have you missed me?"
He snorted, "Like hell. I didn't like you years ago, and I don't like you now. I suspect that I never will, if you really must know. Why do you keep coming?"
"Pettigrew is dead, you know. Captured and killed like the rat that he is."
"Of course I know. You think I could miss the fact that my right-hand man is gone? He and Lucius both… My favourites, though you knew that, didn't you?"
"Of course. You miss him, don't you? Miss touching his soft skin, his long, lovely hair. Even though he would never let you have what you really wanted…" Gem-like eyes sparkled with mirth, and a small, childish giggle escaped his lips.
"You know nothing! Just because I no longer have charming, boyish looks like yours means nothing. I'm a man now, fully grown and come into my power. You, on the other hand, will never come into yours. Sad, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is rather sad. A grown Wizard with power like yours, and you can't even manage to kill one young boy. Truly pathetic, if you ask me."
"I didn't ask you."
"No. You never do, do you? But I always answer, don't I? I have all the answers, if only you'd care to listen to me for once. You of all people should know that I am more than a mere child. Would it really be as bad to listen to me, just this once?"
"Why should I? The last time I listened to you I ended up as nothing more than a scary name and a mild little burst of power. What's to say that the same thing won't happen again?"
"Oh come, now, honestly. Are you still bitter over something that happened over sixteen years ago?" The boy laughed, high and piercing. "I think that it's quite time for you to get over that."
Brows over tired, pained eyes furrowed. "Like hell I will. And you know that I can't, anyway. I never will. Not while he's still alive."
"Ah, so true. After all, if you were able to let go I wouldn't be here, would I?"
"So you're saying then, if I got over it, you'll leave? For good?"
"I doubt it. You need me, don't you know? I made you what you are, so many years ago. You left me behind, but you still need me, don't you? No, don't try to deny it. I know better than you do, after all."
"You know nothing!" death-pale hands fumbled with a pot of tea, but poured only one cup. The boy never asked for a cup, was never offered a cup. "Indeed you made me what I am now. And every day I curse you for it. Because of you my best men are out there getting killed. Because you made me what I am, I will never again be a beautiful young thing like you are now. I'll never hold my lover in my arms because you got him killed."
"I had no control over that, and you know it. He was killed by his own traitorous son, don't you remember? You were there when it happened, when you tried to give the boy his Mark. But he didn't want it, did he? Because he would rather follow someone pretty like me, not something hideous and repulsive like you."
"Yes, of course I remember. The boy killed my favourite one, so I killed his mother in front of him. Didn't like that, did he? And you were there, weren't you? Hiding in the shadows like you always do. Laughing me, mocking me."
"Of course. If I didn't, who would? Not your silly followers, that's for sure. They fear you, yes, but they respect me. How does that feel?" he held up a slender hand for silence. "No. Don't try to answer that, I already know. I know everything about you. But what do you remember about me?"
"Nothing…everything…I don't know. I don't remember who I am anymore. Why are you here this time? You must answer me, I demand it."
"You of all people should know that I answer to no one. Never did, never will. Correct? Of course. I've always enjoyed our conversations, you know. I'm glad that we get to have them more often now."
He needed to curse the boy, send him into oblivion where he belonged. A pale hand reached for his wand, and a raspy voice spoke the Cruciatus curse, ears waiting for screams of pain that never came.
Later, he thought to himself that it was rather silly to throw curses at an empty chair.
Owari.
15.11.02
If you were unable to figure it out (and I don't blame you) the people were Voldemort, and Tom Riddle. (the 'boy') A bit of a peek into the mind of the Dark Lord as he slowly descends into madness. He starts seeing things, people, that aren't really there…or are they? Tom is a representation in his mind of everything that he once was, and could never again be. He is also the embodiment of his thirst for power, though by no means is he evil. I'll let you puzzle the rest of it out on your own. ^-^ Feel free to tell me exactly how insane I truly am. ^-^
-=Keiran Shea=-
-a very sleepy Random Slytherin