~To Kill You With a Kiss~

Chapter 27

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Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the reviews and comments. I am amazed and touched by the number of reviews this story has received, and by how many people have read this story (story stats show over 200,000 hits!). Thank you all for reading!

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From the Diary of Tom Riddle. The Dark Lord's Addendum, September 22, 1945.

Voldemort died twice tonight.

The first time, I died as a younger version of myself at the Riddle House, killed with a kiss by an unknown assassin from the future. Or from the past? I can no longer tell.

The second time, I died in the arms of my green-eyed assassin. And my second death was even sweeter than the first.

I have had many lovers through the years, both men and women, but I have never known a night like this, so sweet and so utterly terrifying.

For ten years, I dreamed of Harry while building the golden time-turner that would bring me to him. At first, my longing was nothing but a wordless ache, a blind want for something I could not quite fathom. I wanted him, but I could not explain to myself exactly how I wanted him. He was mine. He was my horcrux. He was mine, like my precious silver locket, like the diadem, like the cup. As I worked on the delicate golden clockwork, month after month, year after year, I thought about keeping him safe from harm. I wished to safeguard him, like my other horcruxes. And then I remembered that he was beautiful, and I thought that I would like to keep him close to me, to gaze at him. But he was no mere thing; he was a living being who would one day understand what he was to me. Oh, how sweet it was, to imagine that moment when he would look at me and realize that we were one, and that he had no reason to fear me any longer. Then, as the years passed, I began to think that I wanted to touch him, to caress him. I listened to the incoherent musings of Abraxas Malfoy's portrait, and I understood that somewhere in the past, a young Tom Riddle was Harry's lover. His lover! The longing felt sweet and heavy in my limbs, and a fierce desire began to form in my heart. I wanted him, ached for him, longed to hold him in my arms... And tonight, I did.

How I had longed for this moment! I had imagined it over and over, the soft touch of his lips against my mouth, the warmth of his limbs against mine. I had imagined finally becoming one with my horcrux, of burying myself in his warm flesh. I had dreamed of the heat, the passion, the cries...

But I never imagined the strange tenderness that came over me when I first ran my fingers over his skin. His lips met mine tonight, softly, tenderly, willingly, and I felt myself tremble. My desperate search for immortality, my cruelty, my loneliness - it all fell to pieces when his lips touched mine. What is happening to me? The Dark Lord is coming undone, all because of a soft mouth and warm skin and shining emerald eyes. There is more than magic in your eyes, my love...The Boy Who Lived looked into my eyes and whispered impossible words of love, and Voldemort fell apart in his arms. I have gazed into the eyes of many lovers, and I have seen desire, hunger, fear, lust. But tonight, for the first time, I saw love, pure and simple and utterly terrifying, a strange magic I have never known.

He gazed at me with his luminous green eyes and whispered: "I love you, Tom." I smiled a little at his foolishness then, and I was about to remind him that I'm not Tom. But then his eyes met mine, and I hesitated. All of a sudden, an absurd notion began to form in my mind: Perhaps he was right after all. Perhaps I am Tom... Perhaps I had simply forgotten. So I kissed him softly on the forehead and whispered back: "I love you, too."

He tore impatiently at my cloak, and soon it fell to the floor. His kisses fell like rain against my naked skin, and I shivered under his touch. He whispered my name, my true name, against my lips, again and again. I shed more than my cloak in his bed tonight; I shed my very being. I am no longer the Dark Lord; I am Tom. For your lips cannot lie, my love. Yes, I am Tom, I am certain of it now.

I came in his arms, and he kissed me with such tenderness that my eyes filled with tears. Tears? I touched the drops that moistened my cheeks, uncomprehending. How can this be? Lord Voldemort does not weep. What have you done to me, child?

He kissed my tears away, and a moment later, I felt another, gentle mouth against my face. I looked at Tom in wonder, at Harry's beautiful lover, and all at once, something stirred in my mind. I looked at the boy I once was, and I seemed to recall that I once walked over moors covered in purple heather, and that the September sun was golden in the sky.

Tom and Harry both wrapped their arms tightly around me, and we lay there, quietly, and gazed at one another until we finally fell asleep.

I rose from the bed in the soft light of dawn, and I looked out at the new day in wonder. They were both sleeping, Harry and Tom, tangled in each other's limbs, skin still warm from sleep and love. I looked out at the hazy blue of the early morning, and I realized with a start that I am no longer Lord Voldemort. I do not know who I am. Tom? No, Tom is the boy who is sleeping in Harry's arms. I am the man who was loved by a green-eyed boy last night; perhaps that is all I need to know. Yes, I think that is enough.

I let my cloak lie where it had fallen the night before and reached for a few rumpled pieces of clothing from the floor instead. Whose shirt am I wearing, I wonder, Harry's or Tom's? I walked over to the bed and kissed them both softly. Harry stirred gently under my touch, and I saw Tom clasp him tighter in his sleep.

My glance fell on the diary that lay open on the bedside table. I leafed through its pages, curiously, as if I were reading the secret journal of some stranger. Then I found a pen in the drawer and began to write. Once I thought this diary to be the essence of who I was, and I imbued it with a fragment of my own soul. My soul! Oh, how little I understood back then! For I have no soul but the green-eyed boy who is sleeping in the soft light of a September morning. As I write these words, it feels as if some dark shadow is fleeing from the pages of this book. The pages look the same as ever, covered with an elegant, nervous handwriting I recognize as my own. But a darkness has passed from the ink-covered sheets; they are mere words now, written by a boy long ago; no dark soul lingers in the night-black ink.

And I take the pen and add the final words to my diary: I am no longer Lord Voldemort.

...

Harry opened his eyes and saw Tom's face. His Tom, his beautiful Tom. But the other one, the darker Tom of the future, was no longer there; he had vanished with the light of dawn. A dark cloak lay crumpled on the floor, and a book lay open on the table.

Harry reached out and woke Tom with a gentle touch, and they both rose quietly from the bed, reached for their clothes - Harry couldn't find his shirt, so Tom had to get him another one - and read the final pages of the diary together.

"He is gone, then?" Harry glanced up at Tom. "I wonder where he is. Do you think we will ever see him again?"

"Perhaps," said Tom softly, "he traveled to the future, where he will meet a green-eyed boy without a scar..."

They both stood silently for a moment. Then Tom whispered: "The basilisk, Harry. I had forced it out of my mind; I had forgotten all about it until he mentioned it last night. I must do something about it, before the monster harms someone else."

Harry nodded wordlessly. His glance fell on the dark cloak on the floor, and he bent down and picked it up. He rested his cheek against the rough fabric for a moment. Then he tossed the cloak abruptly into the fireplace. He drew his wand. "Incendio!"

"You are getting better at that spell, my love." Tom was pale now.

The flames flickered to life in the grate, and soon the black cloak was consumed by the fire. As the last of the dark fabric dissolved into the flames, Harry sensed a movement by his side. A moment later, and old leather-bound book suffered the same fate as the cloak.

Harry glanced uncertainly at Tom. "You destroyed your diary-?"

"It was about time, Harry." Tom's voice trembled slightly. "Besides, I wasn't the one to destroy the darkness that lingered in its pages. I think he was... Come now, my love."

Harry followed Tom silently out into the deserted corridors. It was still early; no students were to be seen yet.

"How will we kill the basilisk?" He glanced up at Tom as they walked. "I have destroyed it before, with the sword of Gryffindor, but I don't know where the sword is in this time."

"I know more than enough of magic to slay the monster with a curse." Tom reached out for his hand. "And perhaps you do too, Harry..."

But when they arrived at the haunted second floor bathroom, they saw that someone had already been there. The gleaming white marble sinks had shifted, and the dark entrance to the chamber gaped open before them. The indistinct form of a small girl hovered by the doorway.

"Hello, Myrtle," said Harry gently.

A shadow of a smile flitted over the girl's insubstantial features. "Hello, Harry."

Harry blinked. "Wait, how do you know my name? We won't meet each other for almost fifty years..."

Myrtle shrugged and sat down on the overturned white marble sink and dangled her legs. "Time only matters for the living, Harry. It becomes completely irrelevant once you are... once you are...not."

"Who is she?" Tom's face was white.

Harry reached out and brushed the chill that was Myrtle's hand gently. "This is Myrtle, Tom, a friend of mine from the future. She died when the Chamber of Secrets was opened two years ago. When you opened it, Tom... She was the one who was petrified by the basilisk."

Tom stared at the fleeting figure, his eyes wide. "Oh, Merlin. You ... You are... the little girl who died?"

Myrtle nodded solemnly. She leaned her head to one side and regarded Tom thoughtfully. "You are him, aren't you?"

"What? Him who?" Tom leaned, shakily, against the wall.

"The one who opened the chamber. The one who made that terrifying thing rise up from the depths. The one who made me die. It was you, wasn't it?"

Tom was silent for a moment. He was so pale that Harry wondered if he was going to faint. But then Tom reached out, hesitantly, and tried to touch Myrtle's indistinct form. "Yes, Myrtle," he whispered. "Yes, I'm afraid it was me." A hectic flush brushed across his face now. "Perhaps there is a way to undo it still, Myrtle. I will destroy the basilisk now, and then I will find my way back in time to... to the day when you died, and then I will destroy it again, before it can harm you."

Myrtle fluttered slightly. "You would do that? For me?" She turned to Harry. "He is such a gentleman," she whispered softly. "For a murderer, that is... Such a beautiful boy, too." She smiled serenely at Tom. "No need to worry about the basilisk today. You've already destroyed it this morning."

"I... what?" Tom stared at her in absolute comprehension.

"You were already here, don't you remember?" Myrtle giggled slightly. "Oh, you looked different, of course, but it was you all the same. You were not nearly as good-looking a few hours ago, but you were quite gallant. You greeted me ever so politely, and then you apologized for disturbing me. Imagine that! People rarely remember to be polite to ghosts. And then you drew you wand, and you spoke in some strange sibilant language, and the doorway to the chamber opened before you. I didn't dare to follow you, but I heard the noises from within, the horrible noises... And then you stepped out of the passageway and said quite calmly. "The basilisk is dead." And then you stood there for a long time and looked at me, and then you whispered: "Oh, god, you are that little girl, aren't you? The one who died?" And when I nodded, you asked me my name. I told you that my name was Myrtle, and then I asked you yours. At first you just stood there, lost in thought, but then you said that your name was Tom. And then you left, but you paused for a moment in the doorway, and you whispered, so softly I almost couldn't hear it: "I'm sorry." And then you were gone."

"I see." Tom sank down heavily on the white stone floor. He closed his eyes, wearily. After a long moment, he opened his eyes and glanced at the shadowy girl that flittered before him. "Myrtle? I'm... I'm sorry."

Myrtle sat down on the floor next to him. "Yes, I know, Tom. You already told me. But it's nice of you to say so, all the same. Oh, and you left something behind earlier. Over there, that little bottle."

She pointed to a small glass vial that lay on the overturned sink. "You said that you had intended to use it last night, but that you had no need for it any longer."

Harry picked up the small bottle, and stared at the shimmering liquid inside. "The seventh vial of amortentia? He had it, all along?"

"I think he had intended it for you," said Tom softly.

"He said," continued Myrtle, "that I should keep it and make sure it got passed on to someone who needed it." She sighed slightly. "But I don't know who to give it to. I don't get to see people that often. Perhaps the two of you need it?"

Harry and Tom glanced at each other and smiled.

Harry blushed. "No, I don't think we do... But I think I know someone who does."

...

"Elias? Is it true, what they are saying, that Mr. Gaunt is gone?" Eileen Prince sank down in the spot next to Harry at the breakfast table.

"Mr. Gaunt?" Harry hesitated for a moment. "Yes. He is...gone."

"Will he come back?" Her eyes were black, like Snape's.

Harry swallowed. "Perhaps he will, from time to time. Listen, Eileen, there is something I have to tell you."

"What?" She poured herself a cup of tea, rather moodily.

Harry glanced around quickly. All the other Slytherin students seemed engrossed in their own thoughts today. Abraxas didn't even touch his coffee; he merely sat and stared into space, a small smile on his lips. Araminta was glaring at her eggs as if they were particularly offensive this morning, and Alphard simply sat there, looking dazed.

"Eileen," whispered Harry. "Do you know a boy named Tobias?"

"Tobias?" Eileen glanced up in surprise. "Why, yes, that's the name of a Muggle boy I know. Why do you ask about him?" There was a slight flush on her cheeks now.

"He likes you, doesn't he?"

Eileen's face was crimson. "Merlin, Elias, how to you know?"

Harry produced the vial and a small piece of parchment from his pocket. "Eileen, I know that you like him back, even if he is... moody... sometimes. Eileen, if things ever get... bad... between you and Tobias, give him some of this. Don't ever let him treat you badly. Or... or any children that you may have... If he doesn't show you the love and respect you deserve, put a few drops of this in his drink. Then he will see you as the lovely creature you are. The parchment contains precise instructions for making more of the potion, should you ever need it. These instructions are better than the ones in the textbook. Juts make sure your remember the yarrow."

Eileen glanced at the parchment and the vial for a moment. Then she whispered: "Thank you, Elias."

"Elias?" Alphard Black glanced up. There was a grin on his face now. "If you have some time after breakfast, I have a few things to show you. I think you will be surprised."