Alright, this is not my first story, but it's only my second one ever posting on here. MAJOR WARNING, so listen up:
DARK!HARRY Dumbledore!BASHING
HOT AND STEAMY SLASH, OR GUYXGUY
VOLDEMORT/HARRY

If you have any problem with any of these things, are too young or too immature to read this, go away.
That's what the back button is for. I don't need flamers, and I promise you, I'm not gonna give a rats butt
if you don't like my writing or this pairing. Cuz for every one of you, there is at least four that do.

Disclaimer: I do not own this, or any of the characters. And even though I do in fact own these books, I do not own the rights to any of them.
So go bother JK Rowling for making this pairing so scrumptious if you got a problem with it.

A/N: Alright, this time I updated a LOT quicker (: I have been inspired. So, I'm getting it out while I can, before I lose it again. Personally, I'm pleased with this chapter, though there is no sex/smut or anything in it. Tell me what you think, please!

Harry Potter groaned, running his fingers through his thick hair, letting go for it to fall back into his face. His eyes crossed to look at the strands that covered his eyes, and he growled under his breath while he pushed them back. They could be so annoying; he just needed to cut his hair. Chop it off short, so it wouldn't bother him at all. That idea appealed to him very much. Playing with the strands, he allowed his mind to wonder, thinking of exactly how short he wanted it, when he heard Voldemort's suddenly angry hissing voice in his head, surprising him, No. You are not to cut your hair.

Blinking, the teen scoffed, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth; he was trying not to instantly react violently to being told what to do, what not to do. He had been ordered around his entire life. It usually didn't bother him with Voldemort, but he was upset at the man and the world at the moment. So, he growled in the back of his throat and muttered back in a mocking tone, Why ever not, oh your great Master of all Darkness?

Feeling Voldemort's amusment at his reaction he hissed at him, his anger boiling stronger the longer he thought. Chuckling his tongue, the man replied, Don't get that tone with me, my little Serpent. Harry couldn't deny the shiver that ran down his spine. You will not cut your hair because I said so. He opened his mouth as if to cut him off in an angry voice, when the man continued, saying just the right words to calm him down. A little trim would be acceptable. However, nothing drastic. After all, how will I grip your hair if it's short?

His face suddenly flushed at the words, and he covered it with one hand, chastising himself silently. How could the man make him so flustered? Just a few words, and he was writhing in blissful torture, eager for more. It frustrated him! He heard the Dark Lord's chuckle in the back of his head, and hissed at him warningly, not that the man paid him any heed. It is because I am everything you never thought you could have, everything that you've always wanted, everything that was yours from the beginning. Another shudder skittered down his spine, and he growled again at him.

I am the embodiment of everything you were always told to hate in life. How could I not be your greatest weakness? When I am what you've always secretly wanted most? Harry was quiet a minute, head rested in his hand when a smirk twisted across his face, an opportunity to use Voldemort's words against him, twist them in a way he surely wouldn't like. Clearing his throat, he straightened up, returning to his full height, attempting to contain his smirk.

So, tell me, Tom... The man hissed at him, but he did not stop in what he was saying or correct himself. If you are my greatest weakness because of the fact that, supposedly, you are the embodiment of everything I am against... He allowed his voice to trail off, leading Voldermort to see where he was going before he spoke. Quickly, he understood and started to growl to correct him when the teen continued, Then aren't I your greatest weakness as well?

He received no response.

Smirking, he allowed himself to find joy in the fact that for once, he had the man speechless. Enjoying the silence, he glanced around himself. Standing in the library, he was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. After all, Hermione had a habit of frequenting the library, and she was the last person he wanted to run into at the moment. Well, except for maybe Ron. However, it was very unlikely that Ron was going to be in the library. He was probably too busy snogging Lavender Brown. Not that the green-eyed teen truly cared; it seemed as though Hermione did though.

Partially, he believed she was trying to get he and Ron to forgive each other so she wouldn't have to see Lavender hanging all over Ron constantly. Not that Harry would stop that, even if he did forgive Ron. Which he wouldn't. There was nothing to forgive, nothing to ask for forgiveness for. He needed to just get over it, in Harry's mind. It was a harmless comment, after all. It was Ron that took it to heart. The teen really didn't care, though. Ron could go on being shallow and hating him. It gave him more peace of mind, anyway.

If there was a such thing as a peace of mind when one has a Dark Lord residing in it.

A low chuckling permeated from the back of his head, and he regretted to find that Voldemort had found his voice again. I do not reside here... The man chuckled at the thought.

Harry scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes. Oh, please. Basically. You never leave it, ever. Exactly how long do you have to stay in my head for you to consider it residing? He quirked an eyebrow though he knew the man wasn't there to see, waiting for his response.

It would be residing if it was the only place I could call 'home'. I come and go of my own free will, therefore I do not 'reside'. Harry scoffed louder this time, giving a small 'hah!' under his breath.

You can leave? He said with overtried ingorance. I didn't know that! I mean, after all, you never do! You should try it sometime, to prove to me that you can. I don't believe you. The teen knew he was testing his limits while teasing the man, but Voldemort didn't seem to mind. Actually, it was almost as though he enjoyed his defiance, the challenge and the game he presented.

Chuckling in an evil, dark way, the man replied, My precious little Serpent... simply because I do not leave does not mean I cannot. I quite enjoy the act of being in contact with you even though I am not; far too busy trying to ready everything on my end.

The words had the teen questioning what the man was speaking of, slightly confused. Wait... what? Readying what things for what? Voldemort chuckled at him but didn't answer, leaving the teen further irritated and intrigued. Tell me! He demanded, but still, the man refused him an answer.

My Serpent, I shall be seeing you soon, but at the moment... I am needed elsewhere. Before Harry could truly even process what he had said, he felt the man leave his mind, just when he wanted him in it, to demand answers for his questions. "Ugh!" It was just like that damned man to leave just when he actually wanted him in his bloody head! He doubted that he truly had something else to do; after all, what would he have to do that demanded he leave his mind? "Ugh!" he exclaimed, a little louder this time, and suddenly Mrs. Prince descended upon him in a way that could teach vultures a thing or two about how to approach prey.

"If you cannot contain yourself, then you will have to leave my library," she whispered in his ear menacingly, and a shudder ran down his spine in fear. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a very long time, and it was ironic that it was an old librarian that finally gave him the chill of fear again. Gently pulling away from her, he nodded.

"Yes ma'am. I'll be quiet." The woman pressed her lips together at him and gave him an unwavering gaze, sending a chill directly into his soul, and he was suddenly more fearful for his life then he had ever been.

"I'm not giving you another chance, Mr. Harry Potter." He nodded again at her, and she finally released him from her grip, backing up a few steps before turning away from him and disappearing deeper into the library, leaving him a little shaken. Shaking his head, he ran his fingers through his hair again, biting his lip to keep from growling when it fell into his eyes. Licking his lips, he made his way through the shelves of the library, grabbing a few books off the shelves. Due to the size of the books, he was only able to grab three before they grew too large and heavy for his arms.

Walking over to the nearest empty table, he set the books down and plopped in one of the chairs, leaning forward eagerly. Though reading was never truly his thing, he was very curious as to what the mark on his neck from Voldemort was. He wondered if there would even be a record of it in the Hogwarts library; what if it was so dark of magic that even the tomes in the Restricted Section didn't have it? He could get to them if it was just in the Restricted Section; he knew how to put his Invisibilty Cloak to good use.

Still... he didn't even know where to begin looking. It didn't seem as though it was anything ordinary. He didn't even know why he was looking in the regular books... Knowing Voldemort it was something that was so taboo a subject that even Hogwarts wouldn't have books on it. Then another thought crossed his mind. What if Dumbledore recognized the symbol? Recognized it and the evil meaning that was bound to be behind it? He would be in deep shit...

Shit... He really hoped Dumbledore wouldn't recognize it. After all, how was he supposed to explain that? 'Well, you see sir, over the summer I began a standard everyday relationship with Tom Riddle, you know, Voldemort? And after the first time we had sex he bit my neck and gave me this!'

...Yeah, because that would go over so very well. He truly hoped that the man hadn't been stupid enough to put a large black symbol of some sort of death god right on his neck in plain view of the old coot. That wouldn't be conspicuous at all. It wasn't as though the mark was noticable or anything! Growling low in his throat, he cupped the mark on his neck, covering it with his hand. Damnit, Tom... You better not get me in trouble... Knowing the man, he probably would have done it on purpose.

The first book have him no sort of help. He had initially thought that a book titled 'Mysterious Markings and What They Mean For You' would be help him, so it was his first choice. However, it turned out the book was talking more of ancient runes than tattoos. Pressing his lips together in annoyance, he shut the book with a large amount of force and pushed it away, snagging the next one, titled 'Runes, Inscriptions, Engravings and More'. He hoped this one would lend him more assistance then the first.

It didn't. 8:00 was upon him, and the library was closing. He had yet to find any sort of explanation of the mark on his neck, or even a mention of something that looked like it! Then again, he had just been going through the main library, not the resctricted section. He hadn't even gotten through all of the books he wanted to look at! The very thought made his already aching head throb in pain. Running his hands through his hair, he hiked his bag higher on his shoulder. He had checked out 2 books, and written down the titles of the other books he wanted to read.

The teen was exhausted. He hadn't been so exhausted since Aunt Marge had visited that summer and he had to run around after her, her mutt, Uncle Veron, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley. That didn't count the fact that he had all of the regular chores to do as well. Cooking, cleaning, picking up after her dog, Ripper, was that his name? He didn't know. Or even care. "Uhh..." he groaned under his breath as he slowly pulled his near dead body down the corridor to his dormitory.

Voldemort hadn't been in his head the entire day. He had dropped in every now and then, but nothing substanial. More often than not, it was to chuckle at him for what he was trying to do. Offering no help, he would only tease before leaving again. Only serving to further infuriate him. His body was killing him, it hurt to move. His eyes were bloodshot from reading for so long. His head ached, and his scar throbbed. Reaching up, he rubbed his scar in hopes of placating it.

Then, he felt another feeling. A gentle throbbing that wasn't pain emanating from the mark on his neck. Blinking, he reached up and cupped the mark again, a pleasant feeling spreading through his body. Slowly but surely, the pain in his body eased. His muscles didn't ache from being bent over books for hours, his eyes weren't burning from reading so long. The 'pleasant' feeling spread from his neck throughout his body, as if banishing all pain from his being out of his fingertips and toes.

A shudder ran down his spine, all pain gone from his body as he entered his dormitory via the Fat Lady's portrait. He paused in the common room, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the other patrons. Blinking a few times, he slowly made he way up to his dormitory in somewhat of a daze, ignoring Hermione's called, "Where on earth have you been, Harry?"

Walking into his dormitory, his eyebrows were knitted as he pondered this new development. "What the bloody hell was that?" he wondered aloud, shaking his head in disbelief. The mark had... had... taken his pain away! Had it? "It did!" he said under his breath to himself, slowly walking over to his bed. Crawling onto it, he was still mindboggled. What was that damned thing? It could make him come (he guessed from his dream) and it could heal him? Well, take away his pain. He wasn't sure if it had 'healed' him of anything.

Still! What else could that thing do? His curiosity grew the longer he laid there, and wondered if it would heal, if it would protect him... What sort of marking it was, and how it connected him with Voldemort, because it most certainly did. He could feel that much. Licking his lips, he flicked his wand and released the curtains around his bed. Poking his hand out, he placed his wand and his glasses on the bedside table, kicking his shoes to the floor. He pushed off the rest of his clothes, leaving them in a pool at the foot of his bed, his boxers the only article remaining.

His mind reeled as he thought of the possibilities. Until he had felt the mark stealing his pain, he had thought it was simply a means of claiming him, a way of saying 'mine'. Apparently not. Well, it was probably a matter of both; claiming him and whatever else this thing was there for. Possibilities ran through his head, all of the different things it could mean, all of the different things that mark could do. Slipping out of his bed, he ran over to his trunk and rummaged around until he found a mirror, crawling back onto his bed with it.

Sitting crossed legged, he tilted his head and held the mirror so he could see the mark on his neck. It hadn't changed in appearance one bit, still as garish as ever, standing out like a sore thumb. It wasn't an ugly mark, granted, but it wasn't something your eyes could simply pass over without noting. Just the black vertebrae of a snake and it's skull, pulled into a circle so it was swallowing its own tail. Reaching up, the teen gently rubbed at it, but felt no noticable difference from the skin to the marking, nor a bodily reaction to the touch as he did to when Voldemort touched it.

Harry wondered if it would only react that way to Voldemort touching it, or if anyone touched it. Himself excluded.

Eyeing the mark for a few minutes, he finally dropped his arm when he grew tired. Yawning, he sat the mirror on his bedside table instead of getting up and out of his comfortable bed simply to put his mirror away. Laying back, he folded his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He was very tired, but his mind simply would not stop moving. His body thrummed with excitement, eager to find out what the mark meant, what it could do. Licking his lips, he reached up and rubbed at the mark again, as if hoping to elicit some sort of response from it.

To no avail.

Sighing, he sat back up in his bed, unable to stay still any longer. Though his body was tired and wanted to sleep, his mind wouldn't stop, and put a restlessness to his limbs he couldn't ignore. So, instead of laying in bed and falling asleep as he wished, he got up, stretching his limbs, redressing. He grimaced, cursing his mind for its restlessness. Walking around, he grabbed his Invisibilty Cloak and wrapping it around himself. Though he knew it wasn't curfew yet, he wasn't in the mood to be bothered by anyone, and that included Ron and Hermione and the rest of the world.

Well... except perhaps a certain Dark Lord.

But that is only because I wish to know the answers to my questions! He quickly corrected his thinking, surprised at himself. He was quickly becoming far too used to the idea of Vldemort being... well, he wouldn't consider him a friend, or even an ally... but less of an enemy? Perhaps. He wasn't even aware himself anymore. Heaving a sigh, he pushed open his dormitory door, making sure the Invisibilty Cloak was tightly wrapped aorund him, covering his entire body.

He slipped through the common room without commotion, slipping through the portrait quietly, so no one noticed him. He was sure that he had felt someone's eyes on him when he had exited, but he honestly didn't care. Even if someone did know he was leaving, they wouldn't know where to find him, or how to follow him. He made sure to be silent, peeking around corners on his way out of the castle. He didn't feel like being inside that night.

Glancing around himself, he made sure to be silent on his journey to the lake, his destination. There were times, such as in that moment, that he could not stand to be indoors, even in such a beautiful, spacious castle as Hogwarts. He made his way to the lake's edge, quietly looking out on the gorgeous, sprawling grounds. This was his home, just as it always would be, no matter what happened or what the people in the castle did to him, including Dumbledore.

Walking around the lake, he placated his restlessness. Somewhat, that is. His gaze turned up upon the stars, and he lost himself in them, a peaceful feeling spreading through his body that had nothing at all to do with the mark upon his neck. Simply being surrounded by such a protective thing as Hogwarts helped sooth him, quieting his stormy insides.

Sighing, he tilted his head back, allowing his mind to roam free. He had a feeling he wasn't going to be finding out what that was on his neck for a while yet, at least, not until Voldemort wanted him to know. Which kind of, really, really irritated him. Still... all irritation left his body as he gazed up at the stars. What he would do to hold one in his hand, just for a moment, only for a second...

He would kill.

The thought didn't shock him as much as he thought it would, but he supposed it was because of the peace he felt that he was accepting things so easily. He knew he was craving Voldemort... not in a sexual way, though. But the man was the only person in the world he could tell anything to, and it wouldn't change how he looked at him. He could tell him anything, say anything! The man knew him more than anyone else, and didn't judge him. If anything, it only served to gain him further acceptance.

Harry very much so liked that. Never had he felt that he could do that to anyone. Everyone always judged him, expected him to be the perfect little prince, their perfect 'Saviour'. He was no one's saviour, no one's perfect little boy. Voldemort knew that, too. No one was perfect, no one. He never claimed to be, never wanted that title. He was not anywhere close to being perfect.

That was why he liked Voldemort so much. The man wasn't perfect, and never did he claim to be. Granted, he had a larger ego than most people he knew, but that wasn't because he thought he was perfection, only because of how powerful he was. He was honestly as powerful as he claimed do be. He could back up all of his threats, with no problem to doing so. Harry wondered if there was a force in the world that could overcome Voldemort.

Somehow he very much so doubted it. Not even Dumbledore, the man that detested killing by his own hands, though he very much so had the power to do so. Harry believed it was the willpower Dumbledore lacked to kill Voldemort.

Pausing in his walking, he glanced around him, and felt a pang deep in his chest. pressing his lips together, he raised a hand to press to his chest, eyebrows knitting. He wasn't sure what the feeling was, he had never felt it before. It almost felt as though it was a physical pain, but not... like there was no wound, but still pain. His eyebrows knitted further and he pressed harder against his chest, hoping to alleviate it. It made no measureable difference. Grimacing, he dropped his hand, wondering as to the feeling.

The teen began walking again, hoping the feeling would fade, but it didn't. It didn't grow greater, but it was unignorable. It was a dull, throbbing ache in his chest. He expected the marking on his neck to take the pain away, but it didn't, serving to further peak his curiosity to the marking. Biting his lip, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Ugh..." the groan slipped through his lips, and he turned around, turning back for the castle. He didn't know what the feeling was, or what was causing, just that it was ruining his night outdoors. He wanted to be back inside, curled up in his bed.

The feeling in his chest seemed to amplify the sluggish tired feeling in his limbs, chasing the restlessness from his body. Hugging the Invisibility Cloak tighter around his body, he rushing back to the castle now. He didn't want to be out there anymore, didn't want to be anywhere but in his bed, curled up and sleeping. The feeling spread, reaching his limbs and seeming to weigh them down, as though he was trying to move through water, then through sludge. Panic filled him, unsure of what the feeling was.

Rushing into the castle, he ripped the Invisibility Cloak from him, darting through the halls to his dormitory. The feeling grew stronger, and he clutched at his chest while he ran. He skidded to a stop in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, who looked at him scoldingly; it was now past curfew. He hardly cared, he was going in to his dormitory anyways. Panting, he opened his mouth to utter the password, when the ache in his chest gave a particularly painful throb and changed.

A gasp came from his throat at the feeling, and he clutched at his chest, eyes wide. He didn't even hear the Fat Lady - "Are you alright? Harry, dear?" because he was no longer being drawn to the bed that rested on the other side of her.

Suddenly, he spun and ran off in the opposite direction, Invisibility Cloak still clutched tight in his hand.

A/N: Alright, what did you think? Do you like it, dislike it, love it, hate it? Tell me, please! I live for reviews!

Anyone got any guesses as to where it is Harry is going, and to why? What is that feeling in his chest? Love to hear your thoughts!