Disclaimer: I does not own. I does not want to. Would be shite if I owned. XD

//This is Parseltongue.//

The italicized things in parentheses are the thoughts Tom pretends he doesn't have/ignores. Sorry if its confusing or terribly out of character, but I needed something a bit different.

Paraselenic

Cognizance // knowledge or awareness of something

Voldemort was surprised by the loud laughter down the hall, the voice of his once-nemesis reverberating in a far too cheerful manner. He hadn't expected the boy back for a few days yet, though he couldn't honestly say he was disappointed. Potter was obviously in an exceptionally good mood; it was rare for him to feel relaxed enough to laugh.

Voldemort chided himself for going down the familiar path to contemplating Potter, but it seemed he was unable to resist. Years of obsession had planted a firm area of his mind dedicated to the younger man, and now that their relationship was… amicable, he supposed, was an acceptable description… it was merely filled with tidbits of information he had gleaned from their many late-night conversations. Much to his vexation, his mind seemed to latch on to every bit of gen and file it away, no matter how banal the subject matter.

Harry's (was he Harry now?) favorite color was actually a pale blue, though you wouldn't know it by his wardrobe. His second was a dark crimson red, far too Gryffindor for Voldemort's liking.

He preferred to sleep on his stomach, though Voldemort's mind now assimilated that the boy was perfectly content to sleep on his side while sharing a bed in close quarters (it had taken Tom himself moving to the other side of the bed to escape the boy, and convincing himself to move away from the cloying warmth had taken almost an hour, only to be broken come morning).

Despite his preference, Harry still thought many women were attractive, even in a sexual manner. He just simply didn't want to sleep with them (damn good thing that was; Tom had enough things to be annoyed about to begin with).

Harry made rather piteous noises in the back of his throat when Voldemort would touch on his less than stellar past, and seemed quick to defend the young Tom Riddle's actions… even when Voldemort himself believed no vindication was needed (after all, he knew damn well the things he had done, and he would not take back a single death for anything. They were his choices and he refused to waste his life on the petty regrets that so many fell victim to).

When thinking or speaking too heavily, the younger man's nose would scrunch up… if things became too grave, he began to nibble his thumbnail. Somehow, Harry didn't seem to notice this (though Voldemort was disgustingly aware of how he had blurted it in his drowsy state).

For all his false bravado, Harry still had many issues with his confidence, likely a combination of his upbringing and the fluctuating viewpoints of the Wizarding world in his teens. To make up for this, Harry hardly ever truly smiled or laughed, choosing to project a sly and roguish personality to hide his own insecurities (except when he was with Voldemort… it seemed their similarities lent Harry the ability to be open).

But there it was again… that laugh. Rich and delighted, adding depth to the dreary manse that was totally unnatural. Voldemort scowled towards the door and ignored the twinge in his chest as he wondered exactly what had gotten Potter into such a good mood. He hadn't been nearly so happy the day before when he had been forced to leave so quickly, although there had been a… dimension to his eyes that Voldemort didn't dare to try and name.

When the door swung open, a fiercely hot sensation seized his chest as the boy practically bounded into the room, one of his hands interlaced with that of another figure behind him. The man held himself like a king, golden eyes immediately scrutinizing Voldemort before Potter had even had time to give his usual smile of greeting.

His first instinct was to seize Potter by the waist and pull him over his desk into his lap, hissing at the tall, elegant man that dared to be touching what was his… and then Voldemort realized just what he was thinking and shrunk away mentally, sealing off his emotions in the most concrete fashion he knew. He raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Back so soon, Potter?"

Harry waved his hand, finally dropping the connection with the man behind him and leaning over Voldemort's desk. "I've brought someone for you to meet; I think you'll be terribly happy with me."

Voldemort didn't see how that would be. The adoring way Potter kept throwing glances at the other man raised his hackles, and he had the most immature notion to change forms and see if he could garner the same attention. It was one of the most petty thoughts he had had in a long time and it sickened him, but that knowledge did nothing to stop the thought from being formed. Voldemort clenched his teeth and waved a hand, not trusting himself to retort at the moment.

"This, my dearest Tom, is the Marquis Valerian… I believe that you were rather adamant in saying that an alliance with him would help the war? Well, we've got his support for as long as we need him." Harry was grinning, leaning closer in the manner of an excited child.

For the moment, his animosity towards the vampire vanished and he let out a rather discomfiting smile. "Pleasure to meet you, sir Marquis. I have heard much of you."

"And I of you, Lord Voldemort," Valerian said. "Please, call me Valerian."

Voldemort watched as the vampire sat where Potter usually did, the boy too happily oblivious to mind that his seat had been usurped. The hot sensation again clutched at Voldemort's chest as he realized this was the happiest he had ever seen the young man. What was it about this Valerian that made Har-- Potter, damnit! -- so delighted?

Voldemort made to speak to return the courtesy, but Potter cut him off by scooting himself onto Voldemort's desk with a grin. "Just call him Tom, Val."

Voldemort raised his wand with a scowl. "Repeat that, Potter. I dare you."

Harry's smile was amused, his eyes holding a strange cast when they met crimson. "Val isn't someone you have to be the Dark Lord around, Tom. He will never see you as above him and you know this already. He's so much older than us that we're like toddlers to him. And, well, I spend several hours last night speaking of you to him. So why not attempt being yourself for ten minutes, hmm?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed to slits and he jammed his yew wand under Harry's chin, ignoring the raised eyebrows of their guest. Potter's glare was murderous but Voldemort ignored it easily. "I have put up with many things from you, Potter, and I am quite sure I will continue to. But do not assume that because you are able to get away with the disrespect you show that I will ever be anything less then the Dark Lord. No matter your disillusion, I am no longer Tom Riddle no matter the form I take. Now, care to change your suggestion?"

Potter growled, lip lifting into a snarl. Voldemort had no time to react before Potter's own wand, the strange one that was not the brother to his own, was pressed into the hollow of his throat. "And you, Tom, need to realize that intimidation does nothing to affect me. I have remained respectful to you in front of the Death Eaters, but I will not be cowed into submission."

"You will show me respect in front of others no matter their standing!"

"This is just Val! He is one of my closest companions!"

"He is the Vampire Marquis!" Voldemort roared, standing from his seat and leaning closer to the younger man, Potter's nose nearly brushing the flat plane where his own should have been. "I will not be made a fool in front of anyone!"

"No one's making you into a fool but yourself, you old git!"

"Stupid Gryffindor child!"

"Slimy snake bastard!"

"Oh, young love!" Valerian crooned from behind them, snapping both men's attention to him as he clapped his hands with a wide grin. "I knew you spoke of him fondly, Mylläkkä, but I had no idea of how adorable you two were!"

Both of them bared their teeth at the ancient Vampire. "Keep out of this!" they hissed in unison before turning on the other and glaring heatedly.

Valerian laughed. "So sweet…"

"You have a skewed perception, sir, of what is sweet," Voldemort growled, shifting away from Potter and refusing to acknowledge the embarrassment that was flooding him. He had never been one to blush and was suddenly glad for it. "But I digress. There are more important things."

Once Voldemort had sat back down, Potter's wand lowered and he stared away from both of them, obviously reigning in his temper as a dull flush of red crept up his neck. Voldemort pointedly refused to look towards him.

Valerian continued grinning from his seat, golden eyes flicking back and forth between them. The two amused him greatly and he found that no matter their response, there was one major thing they had not done…

Deny it.

Harry sighed as Valerian and Voldemort settled the details to their alliance, Valerian himself being unable to stay but donating several dozen soldiers to their cause. Seventeen Vampires, nine Dark Elves, four dwarves, fourteen werewolves, and seven sirens were certain, and Valerian promised to send along any volunteers from amongst the other species within Sceaduwe. Voldemort was obviously thrilled, crimson eyes bright and a quirk to his lips that he was unable to suppress. Harry, too, was very thankful, though he knew that Valerian could actually spare double the number he was promising.

"I will also send one of my Kenraali to assist you in military planning and to keep my people in line; they will defer to Mylläkkä here as my heir, but even he would have trouble commanding them."

Harry's eyebrows rose unnoticed in response. He had been trying to recall everything that had happened around his first Christmas in Sceaduwe, though he had not been very deep in the know so early in his tenure. However, he did recall a Dark Elf named Emele who had gone on a 'mission' from Valerian in his first year there. She had left him discomfited at first with her pitch black skin and hair and the nearly glowing crimson vines that tattooed her skin in a symbol of her elemental affiliation. He had been distinctly uneasy whenever she so much as entered a room and had avoided her gaze like the plague.

He had, however, grown used to the different immortals that inhabited the Citadel, even the disconcerting Dark Elves. The werewolves had been more aggressive and fierce than his solitary acquaintance with Remus had led him to believe, but pleasant enough… barring the dignitaries that had made fun of him all those years ago for his affected moniker. Harry still held a grudge against them. He had never had much contact with the dwarves, feeling unable to reconcile their childlike appearance with a wise, long-lived race. It was the same with the sirens; they were rather vicious away from their prey and their stories were usually rather gruesome. Despite all that, he had found all of them interesting and looked forward to the renewed contact.

Harry realized he must have been lost in his thoughts for longer than he'd expected, because Valerian was standing and clasping Voldemort's skeletal hand. Harry felt an odd tranquility flow through him as he watched the two powerful men go through the standard oaths of alliance, the purple strands of fire lashing out to seal the agreement. But he was being sentimental; it was unnecessary in that moment and would only bring him more confusion. He smiled at the two, still avoiding Voldemort's eye.

"Will you be returning with me to Malfoy Manor, pet?" Valerian asked, his stance casual. "There is much still that I do not know."

Harry was tempted. Oh, how he was tempted. He wanted to escape Voldemort's crimson gaze more in that moment than he had in years. But he was not a coward; like it or not, he was a Gryffindor and proud of it. The tension that laid thick and ignored between them needed to be gone if they were to work together. Their brief squabble proved that. There was so much more underlying their interactions than any mere annoyance.

Harry drew himself up and sighed, smiling at his mentor. "I'll be back over there tonight or tomorrow, Val. I have some things I need to clear up with Tom before I relax."

The smirk the eldest got was wicked. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, pet."

Voldemort rolled his eyes.

Harry gave a weak grin. "Well then, I'll be sure not to be silent for even a single moment. Happy?"

Valerian cuffed him upside the head before the shadows collected at his feet. He threw his charge a wink. "Do that while nude and you're on your way to greatness."

His laugh echoed in the study even as he disappeared, leaving Harry to studiously avoid his partner's eye. It was alright, though, because even as he focused on anything but Voldemort, Voldemort studied his every move.

Hope you all have read the one-shot parody HPLV I put out in thanks for the 1,000 reviews. :) If not, you should, it's for you all after all! It's obviously in my profile. Denouement.

Revised: 3/20/09