It had been quite a fascinating meeting, to say the least. Harry was honestly surprised it had gone as well as it had, considering he'd been chatting and drinking with the Dark Lord for a good three hours.
Voldemort, or Elias, hadn't been very talkative at first; he'd just been staring at him, almost to the point of making Harry uncomfortable, well, more uncomfortable than he was Before.
Finally, he'd decided to confront him, his sanity had to be all used up for him to do something as stupid as that.
"Could you, er, not do that?" Harry asked and leaned back in his seat.
"Could I not do what?" Voldemort asked with a frown.
"Could you not stare at me, please?" Harry clarified with a pointed stare at the other man.
"Is it making you uncomfortable?"
"A bit."
"My apologies", Voldemort said and shrugged, which was quite an unusual gesture from him. Harry wasn't sure if he was sincere or not.
"Thanks", Harry said and sipped his butterbeer, causing the older man to sneer in distaste. "What?"
"I don't understand how you can drink that, it tastes absolutely vile", Voldemort said and swiftly picked up his glass of fire whisky.
"This? This is good, really good. The stuff you're drinking is vile", Harry said and gestured to the Dark Lord's drink and shuddered. He remembered the first, and last, time he'd drunk fire whisky. Not only did it taste horrible, but the hangover it had brought him the day after had made him wish he'd died on that Halloween's night. At least that would've been a quick death.
"Are you even allowed to drink this? How old are you now?"
That had to be the oddest question ever asked by a Dark Lord. "I'm fifteen."
"Underage drinking isn't very becoming, Potter", Voldemort said with a frown, as if he actually cared about Harry's drinking habits.
"I only did it once, just to try!" Harry couldn't believe he actually had to defend himself against something as silly as this. "And it was disgusting."
"That's what they all say, and then they go straight back to the bottle."
"Speaking from experience?"
Okay, that hadn't been Harry's brightest moment; accusing the Dark Lord of being an alcoholic. If they hadn't been out in public, Harry would bet all his fortune at Gringotts that he'd be dead.
Harry gulped and looked away from the rage he could see swirling behind those glamoured eyes. Desperate to get the attention away from thoughts of death and torture, Harry blurted out the first thing he could think of.
"I love treacle tart!" Oh Merlin, he was an idiot.
Voldemort blinked, and then blinked again, as if he didn't know what to do with this information. "Indeed?"
"Yes." Definitely an idiot.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression we decided to meet to discuss recent transgressions of yours, no?" Voldemort said and wrapped his hands around his glass.
"Yes!" Harry blurted out, a little too loud. "Yes, we did. I've made a horcrux." Thank Merlin for silencing charms.
"Yes, that's something I wished to discuss with you. I have to admit, that's something I never expected you to do." Voldemort said while staring at him. Again.
"It took a while before I made up my mind about it", Harry said and absently rubbed his chest, where the locket had been.
"I should hope so. That isn't a decision to be made without consideration. But may I ask, why?" Voldemort asked while studying Harry's hand.
"Why?"
"Why did you decide to split your soul? You have to murder someone to accomplish it. I thought all Gryffindors were supposed to be good little lambs", Voldemort said with a smirk that made Harry want to pour his drink onto Voldemort's lap.
"Yeah, well, blame Malfoy junior for that, he and his lovely personality is what made me refuse the Hat's decision to be put in Slytherin. Gryffindor seemed like the better option at the time."
Voldemort raised an eyebrow in surprise at that. "You refused the Sorting Hat's decision?"
Harry nodded while taking another sip of his drink.
"I wasn't aware you could."
"I must be special", Harry said and beamed at the Dark Lord.
"How did it feel to kill?" Voldemort asked abruptly.
"Huh?"
"Your first kill. How did it feel?" Voldemort asked again as he leaned forward, now looking intrigued.
Harry thought back on the day he'd killed Lavender. That feeling had been unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was as if magic was streaming through every nerve, every fibre of his being. "It felt absolute intoxicating."
Voldemort smirked, as if pleased with the answer. Maybe he was, to hear that the light's Golden Boy had enjoyed murdering someone. "I thought the exact same thing after my first kill."
"You did?" Harry was surprised the man had told him that. He thought that his past was something he never wanted to bring into a discussion.
"Yes. I thought it was an incredible rush. To know that I could end another being's life with only two words… it made me feel strong."
"I don't know of any light spell that makes you feel like that", Harry mused, "Is that why they call them the Unforgivables? Because it makes you want to do it again and again to get that feeling?"
Voldemort huffed, and Harry got the impression the older man approved of his questions. "Not bad, Potter."
I know this is short, but I just wanted to write something of their meeting, my inspiration has been on low lately, trying to get it back up to full speed! / Julle
