Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or his world.
Lord Voldemort stood before me, eyes cold and merciless. And yet, for a moment, there was a glimmer in them — a glimmer of the Tom I used to know.
"Tom," I whispered. "Please, Tom. Don't."
He sneered. "My name is Voldemort."
It was true. The man before me — could you call him a man? — could not be Tom. He was a complete monster. He held no trace of Tom, the talented, thoughtful boy with whom I grew up.
I had spent a lot of time trying to figure out what caused the darkness that grew in Tom and eventually overtook him. When had it begun? At the Sorting — no, it had begun before that. It just became evident then. Perhaps when they gave us the letter from our long-dead mother, when we discovered the secrets of our heritage — but no, that was not the beginning of the path. It merely told of it.
When we were born — no, when Father left Mother — no, when they were married — when they met, for that matter. No — it had begun even before that, even before both of them were born. It had begun with the Founders of Hogwarts, with Salazar Slytherin. And yet — there was probably something that made him the way he was, as well. So many contributing factors, drawn from spans of thousands years. Who could have known that they would have made Tom into this — this creature?
"Well?" the creature asked. "No response, sister dearest?" His tone dripped sarcasm.
"Why?" I asked quietly. "Why are you doing this, Tom? What made you like this?"
His face contorted in fury. "You should know, Sarah. You did."
I dropped my head in grief. So it was my fault, as I had always suspected.
"You abandoned me, Sarah," he continued, eyes narrowed. "You went to the Gryffindor scum and left me without my other half."
I met his eyes. "I didn't know, Tom."
"How could you not know?" he cried. This frustration — it was almost human. Perhaps he wasn't completely gone. "How? We're Slytherins, Sarah! How could you let the hat put you in Gryffindor? How?"
"You think it was easy for me, Tom?" I snapped. "I'd lost my other half, too!"
He waved this away. "You made friends. You were happy!"
"At times, yes. But none of them could ever be like you were." There was an almost pleading note to my voice. "None of them — they never even knew me, Tom. Not really. Not like you did. You and I were one person, once."
It was true. We were so close that we were practically one person. We were born together, intertwined in each other's arms. I had always believed that we would live together, and, when the time came, die in the same moment. There was no way it could be otherwise. We thought along the same tracks; we slept and woke at the same moments; we even breathed on the same rhythm. Neither of us went anywhere without our counterpart. If one of us was in trouble, the other one was as well. We hardly needed to speak to each other, for a glance at each other's faces could tell us exactly what the other was thinking. We were two parts of a whole — indivisible by any force.
Or perhaps not.
As if he could hear my thoughts, Tom, realizing at the same moment I did that our breathing was still perfectly synchronized, struggled to disrupt the rhythm.
"I've never filled the gap you left, you know," I told him quietly. "You — you have. You've filled it with — this," I said helplessly, gesturing at him — at Lord Voldemort. "With darkness."
His eyes narrowed. Tom was slipping away again. "I used to love you, Sarah," he hissed. "You killed that. Do you have any idea how much pain you've caused me?" He smirked. "It doesn't matter, though. Pain has only made me stronger. And now — you're going to pay."
A strangled laugh-sob escaped my throat. "You don't think you've already made me pay, Tom?" I was nearly hysterical, laughing and crying. "The torture — the rape — the possession? The things you've forced me to do? Not to mention the daily knowledge that my counterpart hated me?"
For a moment, the glimmer shone again in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sarah," he whispered. Then his face hardened again. "Avada Kedavra!"
I could feel death rushing at me, about to sweep through me and wipe the life from my body. In the fraction of a second before it hit, I knew that I would fall, and that Voldemort would stare into my blank, lifeless eyes and smile in satisfaction. Then he would turn and leave.
And his eyes would never glimmer again.
A/N: If you've gotten this far, I'm begging you, please review! The idea that people might be reading this, or might not, and I'll never know is just torturous. Just write one word if you want... but at least let me know you're reading this! I will be eternally grateful!