Harry Potter apparated in to the ballroom, no pretences, he was not here to play games, he was here to end them. His presence was soon discovered. When he made no move to protect himself, or harm another, the sea of black robes that he knew to be monsters parted before him. Opening his way to reach the self proclaimed dark God on his almighty throne.

The man, no monster was the same as he had been the last time they'd meet. Scaly, burning eyes of cinder, nose half gone. He looked majestic in his horror. He was grinning maliciously, only right that he was. It was after all a day worth celebrating, the end was near. Or is it already here?

"What brings you to my court dear Mr. Potter?"

"Simplicity," he answered without hesitation. "It's only time after all," the saviour filled in after wards. The dark lord's eyes brighten considerably, no longer were they cinder, but they were the embers before the cinder. So Voldemort had gotten the meaning of his whispered words.

"It's too simple," mused the man.

"No, it is not simple enough," responded the boy. Oh how the dark lord laughed at that quirk. Soon, his laughter gone, Voldemort studied the saviour in front of him. He appeared to be serious, why else would he enter the serpents nest?

"So you've come and I am supposed to obey?" hissed the serpent man. "Never more a fool then I thought, Mr. Potter." Thinking he was being rejected, Mr. Potters face screwed up in hurt and he collapsed to his knees, sighing brokenly.

"Please," the beg never caught on his lips, this was it, this was the end and he so wished it would happen.

"Come here child," again without hesitation or fear, the boy went to the man, wrapped his arms around the monster that destroyed his life. He wept into the robes of the soul that stole his life, his childhood and future. He cried away the deceit of the world and the lives that he'd lost. The memories came out brokenly with each choking sob. Faces twirled around his mind, before being bleed out by the tears.

Moments, hours, days, he wasn't sure, later he came back to himself, kneeling with his head in the lap of his god. With large innocent eyes he looked upon his destroyer and again opened his mouth to beg.

"Simplicity."

"I know," replied the dark god in a soft voice, hissing in comfort.

Is it so wrong that he should find comfort in the one that destroyed everything?

It'd have been wrong to say Mr. Potter hated Voldemort, because in fact he did not. The boy had no place to hate, he was filled to the brim with fatigue, and there was no room for anything else. No mater how hard he tried to replace it with happiness, anger, or even lust. It never worked. He was lost in an abyss that seemed, impossibly, to grow larger with each passing second.

"It will all end soon enough," spoke the dark lord softly, voice steady and comforting. "Soon enough, you will have your peace," he said to the broken boy before he threw him in the middle of the circle of on looking death eaters. "Everything but death and defiling him," announced the snake god. "Show Mr. Potter why we have won."

"You have not won," the group heard the boy's wrecked voice through the curtain of his hair. "Merely the other side has lost."

"That is not logical Mr. Potter. If one side as lost, then the other by process of elimination has won."

"Have you still killed someone if they chose suicide?" Queried the saviour.

"They killed themselves, but that is insanity and has absolutely no relevance?"

"I said they chose suicide, not that they committed it."

"You speak in riddles, Mr. Potter. Do you no longer wish to partake in our hospitality?" hissed Voldemort, not in true anger, but it was getting close.
"I will participate in anything as long as it ends with my death."

"Then why do you mumble such obscene phrases?"

"Because even dying I will tell the truth, I will not lie to make this easier on myself. You have not won, simply you haven't lost. There is logic in that, you must only find it. You're caught between what happened and what could never be."

The saviour said no more as he was pelted with spells, curses and hexes. Without a sound he fell to this his knees, facing the dark god. Blinded by the magic, he looked in the direction of his destroyer. The surprise to be found however was that pain and hurt were not the emotions reflected in the young man's eyes. For the oddest of reasons, the boy-who-lived eyes showed gratitude.

So surprised was the dark lord that he halted the monsters around him. He crouched beside the brave. Voldemort pulled the boys face upward with the tips of his fingers.

"Feel you no pain?" he questioned curiously.

"It is only physical," replied Mr. Potter, voice perfectly smooth, not cracked as would be expected. Then again he had not yelled at all, not even a moan of pain.

"How do you do it?"

"It is simple. The end is near, my peace comes closer. I will finally achieve that which I want. And I have you to thank for that."

Horrified, the dark god gave the saviour what he wished, making the green light protruding from his wand the last thing Mr. Potter ever saw. It's ironic that it would be his first memory… and his last.

But it accomplished what it was meant too, it attained what was wanted. Peace, death, simplicity. And somehow even hope.

A/N: I do hope you've enjoyed this. Originally I wasn't going to add onto this piece. Ironically, of all the one shots that I have made, this one was the one I hadn't even thought of adding on to. But just recently I re-read it. And I realised that this just begged to have the death scene written out. And so here it is. I don't think it's in the same style as the first chapter unfortunately, but hopefully it does seem similar and that the two fit. They are after all about the same thing. Please REVIEW!!