Title: Love you, Love you not.

Summary: "Let me show u something beautiful." He whispers. Slash HP/TRLV

Warnings: SLASH (male/male) pairings if ya don't know what that means, swearing, violence in, Evil! Slytherin! Harry! Self harm, a lot of agast!

Pairings: HP/TRLV

Disclaimer: What are u looking at me for? I don't own it!

A/N: Ok, this maybe a little confusing… in Hp book number 2 instead of Ginny getting tom riddles dairy Harry gets it, and then Dumbledore saves Harry and destroys the dairy. Umm yea so please tell me what you think!

Chapter 9:

Tom Riddle/Voldemort's POV:

I have controlled every aspect of my life carefully. I have controlled countless of others. I swore long ago that I would have only one law, one Lord: myself. Then Harry came through every defence and tore my walls down and ruled over everything, whether he knew it or not.

I'll never forget that time in the Chamber...Harry sat beside my throne like an attendant and laid his head in my lap. I smirked and glanced down at him. My little kitten. If he'd been any other boy...if he hadn't been so young...I might've forced his black messy head between my legs just to see him shamed.

Innocence knows no shame; it's pathetic. Evil shows no shame...but I have felt shame. I felt shame when I slid my hand in the opening of Harry's pants, and heard his confusion when he asked, "Why are you doing this?"

I felt shame when I ignored his protests in the minutes that followed. I shut my eyes against the disgrace when he hooked his arms around my neck and screamed in pain, and bit my lip against it when he cried out his pleasure.

I suppose after that first time I could've not touched him again, if he had never tempted me. But after that, he wanted more. He'd come to me late at night and kiss me, and put himself closer to me, and beg me, "Please, just once more." And always I put myself through another night that makes my senses simply die of ecstasy and makes my mind die of horror in my mental torment. He is so young...who am I to take so much from him?

Some lovers, decent lovers, leave those they love just so that they can watch them live happy, free lives...but I can't bear the thought of his in peace and I in pain, I just burn up with jealousy.

Not long ago Harry came to me, but he didn't want his body to be my temple for that night, my sacred cathedral to pray in, to dwell in. And I agreed, I felt relief. He sat beside me like a kitten and laid his head in my lap. My thoughts were forced back to that night when I would not take advantage of him like that. He was far too pure...

But no more. Even if I did agree with him, part of my mind tingled as an ugly grin crossed my face and I made him put his head down, and I laughed at his tears as he struggled and objected but I made him go through with it anyway, and I enjoyed every moment of it, even when I hated it and myself for doing it to him. Afterwards, I let him fall to the ground weeping. How I had used him. How I abused Harry, made him struggle and lose to me. I kicked him maliciously and said, "Silly boy, all you are to me now is a whore."

I know it hurt him, but at this point I don't much care.

Other times I go to him, shaking inside and lost. It's then that I'm not the Dark Lord, I'm Tom Riddle; poor Tom Riddle. Parentless, abandoned. I need him then as we can comfort each other. He's startled, but he lets me put my head against his shoulder and cry. Really, I cry. I know how. He hushes me and soothes me, stroking my hair, even when my tears soak his second hand shirt.

He likes it when my tears fall into his cupped hands. We look down at them and I don't understand how it is that he likes them so much.

"They're beautiful," he'll whisper, and kiss the rest of them off my face. I guess that's the way it is; we're desperate for things we find in the other.

For Harry, it's my shining tears.

For me, it's his pure blood.

I'm starving for blood like that. I'd kill for it. Sell my soul for it. Maybe die, if that's what it takes. I guess I'm just that desperate.

TMRHJPTMRHJP

One night you will die

That is not tonight

You won't see the day

But that's not now, I pray

That's not now I pray.

TMRHJPTMRHJP

:Hermione's POV:

When you gamble with the devil, you lose. What you lose, I don't know. Your life? Maybe. Your virginity? Perhaps. Your soul? That sounds more like it.

When you step into a circle of toadstools and dance with the faeries, it's said that you'll be stuck there till dawn.

I tried to save Harry from Tom Riddle...I tried to stop him from dancing with the Devil.

In doing so I fear I shall bring about Harry's ruin.

I can just picture it now; the Prince of Darkness, of Night and the New Moon, polished black shoes and black tuxedo, his hair blown into his eyes, his gaze downcast and his milk-white face unreadable. In his hands, a single white rose. He'd twiddle it like a baton in his fingertips, managing never to prick his fingers on the thorns.

Then the Prince of light with his Full Moon complexion will hurry in, his tuxedo barely on and urge me to help him. "Hurry!", he'll say.

My fingers will fumble as I button up the silk top. He'll stand in front of a mirror and I behind him shall see his reflection and mine, pale as well.

He'll spin around in all his glory. I'll take out a poisoned comb and pick carefully through his midnight black hair.

He'll slip into his black polished shoes and run out breathlessly, eager to join him and transform from Late Autumn to Winter. Harry used to love late autumn, I 'll think mournfully, but now he rushes to greet Tom. How I hate Tom for doing this to him.

"Wait," I'll call, and pick up a black rose from the table. Before he takes it and places it in his hair, I've pricked my finger on the thorn. How he manages to not pierce his skin, I'll never know. The black rose, he holds, is Tom, and only he may hold him without pain, I suppose.

He'll rush out and I'll follow.

Harry will leap into Tom's arms and he'll clasp Harry's fingers with his left hand, his right dropping the rose and brushing Harry's messy hair out of his eyes. The rose becomes untangled from his hair and falls beside Tom's and his hand will come to rest lightly on Harry's waist. The fingers on Harry's left hand will run through Tom's hair and settle on his neck, and Tom will nod at me coldly to start the music.

Picking up my skirt I'll quickly run to the roses and pick them up. At my touch they transform into a viola and a bow- the black one is the bow and the white one, representing Harry, is the white rose, Harry. None of those thorns touched me. I smiled briefly, knowing Harry will still loved me, for he would not harm me. Naturally, Harry would make the music on Tom's commands, like the viola and bow. I lift them and play- but roses don't lose their thorns and my finger's clutching the bow are soon bleeding. I look at Tom, who looks away, towards Harry. He does not forgive.

Tom and Harry are dancing to the sickly sweet music I create. Clouds and mist and sparkles surround the fair crescent moon against the lush black crushed velvet sky.

When the soft light of the moon illuminates Tom's eyes, there are unshed tears in them. I almost drop the roses in shock. Harry's tears slide down his face freely, and suddenly Tom kneels on one knee in front of him. The clouds part and light falls on the pair of them as I watch in envy from my place in the shadows, unnoticed.

Tom extracts a black silk scarf from his jacket and waves it in front of his hand, pulling from the air a diamond ring, twinkling, glittering, reflected in Harry's hopeful eyes.

Tom will put it on Harry's finger and I stare at him in fear. But-no, Harry!- he accepts, holding his hand up before his face, staring at it in awe.

Then I'll know to play a lilting, happy tune so that they can dance quickly around and around and beat a circle into the grass like the children of night that they are. And I will open my mouth, my voice gone, and I will reach for Harry, helpless as my hands go through him. I can picture myself in my minds' eyes...all that they can hear is my music, so I must keep playing. I will stand. I will see the end before it comes. I will alone survive it as Harry falls. And I will do nothing.

Oh, Harry...forgive me!