CHAPTER FOUR

When Harry woke up he realized he had slept not only through the rest of the day but also through the night as well. The alarm clock next to his bed read five a.m. and Harry groaned as stretched out the kinks in his muscles. When he peered out into the room Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding when he saw Voldemort standing by the window in the shadows.

"Good morning," Harry said as he curled on his side to watch Voldemort.

The older wizard didn't respond for a moment but then his crimson eyes opened and he turned towards Harry. "Good morning," he replied simply.

"I still can't get over how strange it is to have you here let alone actually talking to you."

"I can see how that would perturb you," Voldemort conceded, "however you are the one who demolished the barrier between us."

Harry rolled his eyes and bunched his pillow under his head, "What were you doing?"

Voldemort made no comment on the abrupt change of conversation and his lips curled into a dark smirk. "It has started, Harry. There has been a bridge collapse in a muggle city and an unprecedented 'Hurricane' has hit West Country, trolls by the sound of it."

The smile the curved on Harry's lips surprised him, he knew he should be angry, but all he could think about was Voldemort's plan and how all of this was necessary for magic. "I confess myself surprised. I had expected anger."

"So did I," Harry confessed and sat up, his feet touching the cold floor. As he twisted and turned his back cracked and his elbows popped. The chill of the morning air through the window produced shivers and Harry looked out in confusion. "It's July and it's been gray and muggy for two weeks," he groaned. "Now it's cold too?"

Voldemort held his smirk, "Soon the atmosphere will dull, the muggles will feel it first, the gloom and depression."

For a moment Harry mulled over the man's words and then he realized what they meant, "There are Dementors on the loose."

"Not only that Harry, they are breeding. However that is not the only thing on the loose either. Have you ever heard of Lethifolds?" Harry thought about it for a moment but as familiar as it sounded he could not remember where he had heard it so he shook his head. "They are devious creatures I'll give them that; however where Dementors suck out your soul and feed on emotion, Lethifolds sweep in through the shadows and devour you whole in your sleep."

A shudder ran down Harry's spine but he said nothing, trying to take everything in. "If you do not have the stomach-" Voldemort started with a disgusted sneer.

Harry, feeling an abrupt rage course through his veins, nearly growled as launched himself up and cut Voldemort off. "I am not weak but excuse me for needing a little time to adjust to the drastic changes over the last few weeks. My biggest hang up is if I trust you not muggle bridges. I'm not worried about the world being destroyed, I'm worried about what'll happen if I do join you and then once we accomplish our goals you decide you don't like sharing your new world." Harry was hissing quietly, deadly, so as not to wake the sleeping muggles but he was glaring daggers mere inches away from Voldemort.

"That is what you're worried about?" Voldemort let out an airy laugh that sounded more dangerous than amused. "It is true, I would never think of sharing my world with just anybody. But you're not just anybody are you Harry?" With a move that left Harry stunned and pinned against Voldemort glowered down at him, his knee between Harry's legs and his arms holding Harry's to the wall. 'Fate has intertwined us in ways that have never before been seen."

Harry felt his breath hitch as he realized the position he was in, Voldemort mere centimeters from his body, their faces so close Harry could feel the other man's cool breath as it fanned his face. "I have offered you a chance at something more precious than all of Gringotts and yet you would throw it all away over what if's?" Voldemort's head dipped and Harry fought relentlessly to keep his eyes from slipping closed as Voldemort's nose traced his jaw line.

'Your heart is strong little serpent, though not surprising.' The hisses fell from Voldemort's lips like honey, producing body jerking shivers and leaving Harry in an unprecedented state of arousal. 'You want more.'

Voldemort pulled away harshly and Harry stumbled forward, his breathing erratic and his cheeks flushed both in mortification and arousal. The atmosphere was tense and electric, Harry was fighting to keep mind off of how delicious Voldemort's had felt pressed against his and instead focus on Voldemort's accusation. Did he want more? How could he want more?

The old reasons for despising the man in front of him came to Harry's mind; he murdered his parents, he was a dark lord, he was evil, he had killed thousands, he would destroy the world, and yet Harry knew that now all of them were void. Now in front of him was a handsome, ruthless, and ambitious man who was powerful enough to make the world burn, who planned to burn it to the ground and start anew.

The moment was broken by the screeching of an owl flying through the open window. The Daily Prophet landed on the desk beside him with a thud and Harry glanced at the large emboldened text: SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE. Underneath, taking up most of the page, was a picture of a man with a mane of hair that reminded Harry of a lion and a wasted face. All in all the man looked like he had been through hellish wars and the stern set to his jaw made him look ruthless. No wonder the world preferred him over Fudge now that Voldemort had returned. It was no shock that the populous had called for Fudge's resignation.

A deliberate and angry cough came and Harry tore his gaze away from the paper and looked to Voldemort. "I just don't trust you." Harry sighed in exasperation. "Sure you're sane but so was Tom Riddle when he tried to suck the life out of Ginny. No!" Harry said louder when Voldemort looked as if he were about to defend himself. "I don't care about what happened, what I'm saying is that you have a track record of luring people in with charm and then trying to kill them."

Voldemort smirked smugly and nodded, "I suppose I have haven't I?"

"I can't work with someone I can't trust." Harry watched crimson eyes widen in shock for a split second before they went icy and the older wizard's expression went blank. Had he just told Voldemort no? It had come out before Harry had registered the consequences and now he wished he could take it back.

"Well," Voldemort drawled in a voice that Harry had once heard the other Voldemort use right before he tortured the life out of one of his Death Eaters, "I suppose I'll take my leave then." With that he disappeared with the blink of an eye and Harry whipped around the room, a growing horror in his gut. Voldemort was nowhere to be found.

He was gone.

"No," Harry whispered in in a growing panic. "No come back!"

But there was no response. The empty room that Harry had spent years in felt more empty than it ever had before and Harry felt like punching someone. The rising panic had his hands shaking and his gut clenched as Harry slammed his eyes shut and began thinking furiously to the horcrux. Come back. Come back. COME BACK!

But there was no response and Harry felt desolation overcome him. Voldemort had healed him when the muggles nearly killed him. Voldemort had gotten him potions to not only fix the current damage but the lasting eye problems and malnutrition. Voldemort had witnessed how Harry had changed and offered him both the knowledge and power to do something about the problems he had learned of. Voldemort had admitted that on some level he cared for Harry.

Voldemort had done more in mere days than Dumbledore had in nearly two decades. And Harry had thrown all of that in his face. The fucking Dark Lord had helped him and Harry had looked at it with suspicion and disregarded how astounding it was. Had he even thanked the man?

An inhuman noise came out of his mouth as Harry slid down the wall until his head was in his knees.

The following days were nothing short of horrible for Harry. As Petunia gossiped over Amelia Bones and Emeline Vance's deaths, not knowing she was fussing over two witches, Vernon had taken Harry's speedy recovery as a personal offense. Every chance the man got he landed brutish smacks with Dudley's Smeltings cane or locked Harry out in the morose cold with a list of chores that was impossibly long even with magic. And with each passing day Harry pleaded just a little more desperately for Voldemort to come back.

At night Harry would stare furiously at the hairs on his desk wondering what Voldemort had had planned for them. Trying in vain to think of something, anything, he could do with the strands if only to keep his mind from spiraling into a pit self-loathing and depression. Harry had been shocked to find that even if he were a hallucination, Voldemort had become a comforting presence that he had latched onto like a lifeline in his isolation. Now that the Dark Lord was gone Harry found the isolation unbearable.

So he took to walking the streets and reading the paper in a café or sometimes laying on the merry-go-round and staring at the gray sky as his magic pushed him around in slow circles. It was on one of these days, a week and a half since the disappearance of the Dark Lord, that Harry was watching the sky go round in the deserted playground when Harry gave up any last shred of dignity he had.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered hoping Voldemort was listening. A tear made its way out of the corner of his eye and slid into his hairline. The loneliness he felt was crippling and since he had begged and pleaded, ranted and raved, shouted and demanded that Voldemort return but to no avail, Harry found his only option left was nothing. He could only wallow in his desperation because ultimately he knew Voldemort wouldn't come back. Harry had had the unheard of opportunity to glance into the man known as the most powerful wizard in centuries when he was sane and he had shown just how stupid he was.

Yes he didn't trust him, but Harry realized trust was built and earned not just magicked into existence. He had thrown away the opportunity for that trust to build. He was back to square one, isolated and angry.

The stopping of the merry-go-round pulled Harry from his thoughts and Harry opened his eyes before shooting up. There before him stood Voldemort, looking like he had the last time Harry saw him. Quick as a snake Harry shot forward and launched his fist into the man's chest as anger and relief warred inside him. "Don't," Harry growled and punched his chest again. "You ever," another punch, "do that again." Emerald eyes locked on wide, astonished crimson ones and Harry nearly sobbed as the anger faded and relief won out.

"Harry?" Voldemort asked in a shocked voice, as if he hadn't expected this at all.

Harry stood trembling before Voldemort wanting nothing more than to launch himself at the man but not wanting to offend him and risk the Dark Lord disappearing again. "You left me." He whispered brokenly as he sat back down on the merry-go-round.

Voldemort sat beside Harry and once again it started to turn. "I was under the impression you wanted me to leave."

Harry turned and gaped at Voldemort, "Have you not been listening? I was begging you to come back!"

"You were the one who turned down my proposal Potter, why should I waste my time to keep you company?" Harry flinched at the use of his surname, even more so at the loss of the pet name.

"I know and it was stupid of me but you have to realize that trusting you of all people is an absurd idea."

Voldemort pierced Harry with a withering gaze, "Perhaps your idea of absurd differs from my own. I find it absurd that you still trust Dumbledore more than you trust me. I find it absurd that even though I have never lied to you, abused you outside of a duel, or manipulated you, you still find the Order of the Phoenix more appealing than my company."

"I don't though," Harry whispered shamefully, "not anymore."

"Oh I know, I can feel it in your mind. Perhaps this week away has been beneficial on both fronts."

Harry couldn't help but give Voldemort a questioning gaze and the man smirked. "I was…away I suppose you could call it. I was spying on my counterpart, quite the progress."

These words sparked a curiosity in Harry and he wondered if it was even worth asking. Would Voldemort trust him with information? The question nearly made Harry flinch; he wouldn't be risking Voldemort's presence by asking. So instead Harry lay back on the metal and stared up at the sky, comforted by the horcrux's return.

For several minutes there was comfortable silence until Harry couldn't stand it any longer and finally asked, "Do you still think we could be great together?"

For a moment it looked as if Voldemort were evaluating him, testing Harry's resolve with not a hint of what he was looking for. But then he said, "I do." Harry let out a breath he had been holding in anxiety and Voldemort continued, "But I will not tolerate such behavior again. You are capable of rational thought and I expect next time you have a problem to speak it before you lose yourself in rage. As Gryffindor as it is, I would say it was more Dursleyish." Harry visibly flinched and his jaw clenched in anger at being compared to those muggles.

It was though, perhaps the only thing that Voldemort could have said that would truly make him think next time. Those words, as cruel as they were, pierced a part of Harry that would forever haunt him. "I understand that you are young," Voldemort continued with a knowing look that left Harry feeling like the man knew exactly how much those words stung and were not used lightly. "But such irrational behavior is unbecoming and in some situations dangerously telling."

Harry didn't respond to that, instead he looked back to the gray sky as a cold wind breezed by. He knew that what Voldemort said was true and that he would have to work on that but even as small tendrils of shame licked through his veins Harry couldn't help but let his lips curl into a small smile, contented with the fact that Voldemort wasn't going to leave again. The desolation that had beat against him like waves against the small boat he had been shoved into in his first year, spraying him icy water of depression had ceased. The sea was calm and while the sun was still hidden, Harry was contented to drift at sea with Voldemort as his guiding star.

"What did you learn," Harry asked after long bout of listening to the squeaking metal of the merry-go-round. "When you were in Voldemort's head?"

The nightmares that had plagued Harry all the previous year had ceased and Harry was cautiously optimistic that his mind was once again his own, however much it could be anyways with a large portion of Voldemort's soul occupying the same space. So the inner workings of the Dark Lord were once again a mystery to him and Harry found that even though the dreams had been horrific at the best of times, he missed them, though he would deny that if ever asked. Voldemort looked over at Harry with an expression that gave him the distinct feeling that he was getting ready to be tested. On edge, Harry listened as the older wizard's musical voice danced in the breeze. "The fallen are desperate Harry, searching for ways to restore their grace."

"The Ministry fiasco?" Harry guessed, knowing that several Inner Circle Death Eaters had been captured. Voldemort nodded and a wicked smirk curled on his lips.

"Draco Malfoy has been given a chance to restore his family's honor on a silver platter. He is lucky compared to those who have yet to even be called."

"I knew he would become a Death Eater," Harry exclaimed a little too loudly as he sat up. But then the words of what it all meant truly hit him and Harry felt pity blossoming in his stomach. "What was he ordered to do?"

If all the stars in the nights sky disappeared simultaneously Harry still would not have been as shocked as he was when Voldemort told him of Draco's task. "He has to kill Dumbledore?" Harry swore colorfully under his breath, unsure of how he felt about that. On one hand Draco was his rival, they loathed each other. But that stemmed from bruised feelings years ago, Harry in no way wanted the one person in magical Britain who saw him as nothing more than he was to die.

"In the barest of terms, yes."

Even to Harry it was revenge through and through. Dumbledore was…well he was Dumbledore and while Harry didn't like the man he would readily admit that the man was powerful, much to powerful for Draco to take on by himself. "You aren't feeling sorry for Draco are you?"

Harry didn't answer.

"Take it and concentrate, feel their life in the palm of your hand." Voldemort instructed as he sat before Harry, the shadows masking most of his face except his eyes. Harry found it exceedingly difficult to concentrate as those blood red eyes gleamed with an intensity that had him squirming.

So Harry closed his eyes and tried to ignore the feeling of Voldemort's gaze burning his body, trying to focus solely on the three strands of hair, one from each muggle, in the palm of his hand. For a long moment he felt exceedingly stupid, finding nothing but annoyance, but after a while and few long deep breaths he felt something. It was an odd sensation, almost as if the hairs were electric and buzzing just underneath his fingertips and pulsing slightly. Just the feel left Harry wanting to toss them down and not touch them again but then Voldemort spoke in a hushed yet excited fervor, "Good, very good. Now delve deeper, past the static until you feel a steady current."

As the words left Voldemort's lips Harry found himself feeling a slow and repetitive pull against him. "Now Harry," Voldemort whispered as if afraid to break Harry's concentration. Yet Harry had no problem following the waves of current. "You need to insert your will upon them, reverse the tide from them to you. Your will needs to break their own and push towards them."

Harry found that part of the magic harder than the rest. The current rushing towards him was like a river and Harry found that he could wade against the current but to reverse it all together was much harder. But the more he pushed, the more he fought against the waves he found that he was slowly building up his own current. It took what seemed like hours to build up his current enough to overpower the muggle's tides but slowly and surely they began to give and follow his own. Harry kept on pushing, instinctively knowing that he could change the tide if he kept at it. Not long after the once coursing rivers flowing against him now followed his will and raged towards the muggles. "No," Voldemort whispered, "twist those hairs and tie them in a knot. Do not lose focus."

Opening his eyes, but not losing the feeling of guiding the waves of currents against him, Harry twisted the hairs and the most peculiar sensation washed over him as he grasped the ends of the hairs. It was almost as if the hair itself was fighting against being bent. Harry struggled, but soon tied the knot and a strand of violet light welded itself around the knotted hair as if it were a chain. With wide eyes Harry looked to Voldemort and smiled when he saw the man smirking in approval.

"I did it?" He asked, not quite sure as he felt no different.

"Indeed, you did." Voldemort confirmed and Harry couldn't help but grin. "Do not lose those," the older wizard warned, "If anyone were to come it would be easy for a wizard to tell that the muggles are under some sort of spell." Harry nodded and put the now knotted hair in the top drawer of his desk.

"Now what?" Harry couldn't help but want to go downstairs and put his first attempt at dark magic to the test.

"Now we see the fruits of your labor."

So Harry followed Voldemort down the stairs and found the muggles on the couch, staring dazedly at the telly. Dudley was even drooling a little. Neither of the adults did so much as blink when Harry stood in front of them and Harry smirked darkly. "Vernon you will take me to Diagon Alley today." The dazed look in the fat muggle's eyes cleared and he grunted as he got up and Harry watched gleefully as the man dawned his coat and grabbed his keys.

"Petunia," Harry turned to the horse-faced woman who was still staring blankly. "You will have a hot meal ready for me when I return. And Dudley," Harry's gaze turned to his whale of a cousin, "you will do my chore list today."

Harry wore a smirk identical to that of Voldemort's as he watched the raven haired boy take command. The muggle's went about their tasks and Harry followed Vernon to the car, Voldemort not far behind. They had decided a trip to Diagon Alley was needed, Voldemort was demanding Harry have a proper wardrobe for a wizard of his new, secret status. And Harry, aware of his distinct lack of knowledge in the Wizarding world, wanted to get a few things though most of his education he knew would come from Voldemort himself, who was turning out to be far better than any book he could buy.

"So the ICW is more or less like the United Nations?" Harry questioned as Vernon drove, the man saying nothing as his sole function was to drive Harry. Harry found that Voldemort had picked up this magic in Bangladesh where purebloods believed House Elves were inferior and used muggles as their slaves. The knotted hair that Harry had in his bedroom was a far less effective but less taxing form of the Imperius Curse. The only downside was that it only worked on muggles, wizards were much too strong to be coerced by mere hair.

Voldemort sneered at the muggle comparison but nodded. "More or less. However Britain, Spain, France, Bulgaria, United States, and Brazil are the dominating nations. They are rulers, the rest have merely a single seat if they are lucky and are only there for their protection. The predominant nations each have two seats; Britain's seats are held by Albus Dumbledore and Lord Henry Greengrass."

Harry knew he had heard that name somewhere before but couldn't quite place it. "You are year mates with his daughter, Daphne Greengrass." Harry's lips formed an 'o' as he recalled the pretty blonde girl in Slytherin who was also known in whispers as having a heart made of ice.

"This year," Voldemort continued, "you should take the time to sway the sons and daughters of current chair holders in the Wizengamut. Malfoy of course, Greengrass would be a wise option as well as the Burke child in Ravenclaw, the Carrow twins in Slytherin, the Parkinson girl would be a wise choice as her mother is who we will be seeing today, and of course there is the infamous Zabini both of whom are in Slytherin. "

"Wait wait, we're seeing Parkinson's mother today?" Harry asked, dumbfounded and hesitant on meeting the annoying girl's mother.

"Of course," Voldemort drawled, "She is a renowned fashion mogul and only dresses the elite. She has a high end boutique in Hogsmeade. We are going to call on her for tea after we reserve a room in the Pub."

Harry had heard of the Pub only once before but even he knew that it was bordering on impossible to reserve a room, let alone get through the door. The handle to the door itself was cursed and you could only cross the threshold if you had been invited. It was also said that the pub owner, a grizzly man by the name of Moribund, catered to human and creature alike, including vampires. "And how exactly are we going to get into the pub?"

Crimson eyes narrowed as if he had expected Harry to have figured this out by know. 'I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, the golden boy. There is no way I'd make it through the door."

"You are the Boy-Who-Lived Harry, and whilst in most situations with your school mates that means you are some sort of light wizard sent to save them, most of the older wizards from the first war had feared you were an even stronger dark wizard." Harry gaped at Voldemort in surprise. Had people really expected him to be a dark wizard?

"Moribund will let you in solely based on the fact that he is arrogant and ambitious. If he sees Harry Potter on his doorstep he will jump to the conclusion that you have been fooling everyone for years. He will let you in and try to dissect you." Harry shuddered at the thought but nodded. "When we enter Knockturn you will pull your hood up over your head and when Moribund tries to get nasty you will have to reply in kind."

For a moment Harry contemplated Voldmort's words as he stared out of the window, but then it hit him. This was so much more than getting a wardrobe, not only was Voldemort testing him, but Parkinson would most certainly spread the word throughout the dark community. If Harry passed word would soon hit every dark witch and wizard's ear that Harry Potter wasn't as golden as he seemed to be.

Harry couldn't help but be impressed and judging by the look on Voldemort's face he knew it.

The Leaky Cauldron was deserted and Tom the barkeep was dozing behind the counter, making it easy for Harry to slip by unnoticed. However Harry was not prepared for the sight that beheld him once the brick wall gave way to the entrance of Diagon. The cloud was even darker, making it indistinguishable between night and day. Shops were desolate and the streets barren, there were no carts selling odds and ends, and you could literally smell the fear that permeated the air.

"You have enough in your money bag for a room to be reserved but you will have to have Lady Parkinson bill Gringotts." Harry gave an almost unnoticeable nod and followed Voldemort with his hood drawn up, hiding his face in the shadows. Halfway up the alley Voldemort led him down a narrow side alley where the bright colored bricks stopped and faded into gray and dirty bricks. After following the windy trail a few yards a sign came into view, making Harry excited for tonight when Voldemort had scheduled his eye treatment. Another few feet or so Harry made out 'If dark ye not be, From here must ye flee'. A shudder ran down Harry's spine but to his surprise it was not fear it was excitement.

While Voldemort led them down narrow alleys with hardly a glance Harry couldn't help but feel like he did when he had first entered Diagon alley, wishing he had eight more eyes as he took in old shops like the Spiny Serpent, Callidora's Crooked Confections, the Hidden Athame, Coffin House: All Your Necromancy Needs, and what looked to be a bookstore that had no name. "That," Voldemort broke Harry from his sightseeing with a point of a finger, "Is Marius Black." Harry followed Voldemort's finger and found an older man with cane much like Lucius Malfoy's and an expression that could only be described as sour. "A squib cast out only to return to the magical world and now owns one of the most renowned poison shops in Britain."

Harry looked away before the man caught him staring and Voldemort continued, "Never trust a poisoner Harry, they are not only sneaky but treacherous."

"Who's that?" Harry asked in hardly a whisper as Voldemort followed his gaze to a witch ahead of him. She had pin straight hair the color of the sky above them and sharp violet eyes. Her lips were turned up in a contrasting smile which seemed to light up her face and pronounce the wrinkles around her eyes and laugh lines around her mouth.

"Ah that would be Miss Callidora Longbottom, long suspected of killing her husband after daughter Augustus Longbottom, your friend Neville's grandmother I believe, was born." Harry's eyes widened. He had seen Augustus Longbottom on the train station a few times and yet her mother looked half her age!

"I didn't know his great grandmother was a dark witch."

Voldemort hummed in agreement, "Very dark if her beauty is anything to go by."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Voldemort had slowed his pace so that Harry could take in his surroundings more thoroughly. As they passed Borgin and Burkes Harry learned that Voldemort had worked there for some time after he graduated from Hogwarts. But Harry's questions about why had gone unanswered and now was not the time to push for answers.

They found a group of Death Eater's crowded down the street from Moribund's, Yaxley, Greyback, and two that Harry didn't know but that Voldemort named Amycus and Alecto Carrow. Apparently they were as charming as they were deadly. But what had shocked Harry was when Severus Snape had joined the group and how they had greeted him with open arms. "Do not stare Harry, lest you call attention to yourself." So Harry had tucked his head down further and followed his companion a few more feet.

The Pub was fairly dingy on the outside and nondescript, Harry wouldn't have even noticed it had Voldemort not pointed it out. "Now Harry-"

But Harry cut him off and knocked on the door, determined to show Voldemort that he didn't need babying. He could do this. So he took a deep breath as a slot moved way and Harry glared at the blue eyes that revealed themselves. "Who are ya? What business do ya got here?"

Harry twisted his lips up into a sneer and, making sure his back was to the group of Death Eaters who were thankfully out of hearing range, pulled his hood back just slightly so that his face was revealed. His lips still curled into a sneer and his gaze hard Harry looked into widened blue eyes, "I'd like to rent a room at four."

Sure enough those wide blue eyes narrowed in suspicion and Harry did the first thing that popped in his head, "Should I have to look elsewhere I will make sure you never see again."

The man seemed shocked as his eyes widened again and he spoke, "Just a sec." The slat slammed closed and not thirty seconds later a pair of grey eyes appeared when the slat was opened again.

"Well well," an oily voice drawled and where the other man had been stunned this man seemed almost as if he were smirking. "Twenty galleons." Harry tossed a money bag, containing at least double that, through the opening.

"I'd like our privacy ensured and a bottle of your elven wine waiting."

The man, Moribund Harry presumed, opened the bag and then looked back to Harry. "Very well sir." With that the slat was shut and Harry turned to find Voldemort smirking at him with a gleam in his eyes.

"I must say I am impressed Harry." Harry didn't know which felt better, the praise from his companion or the dark smugness rolling through him.

With his hood back in place Harry and Voldemort wandered back into Diagon. Neither spoke, Harry's mind still reeling from how well he'd done and seeing Snape with a bunch of Death Eaters. But it wasn't safe to talk of such things here, so Harry was contented to go back through the Leaky Cauldron and let Vernon drive them back. Upon arriving back to Private Drive Harry nearly cackled at the sight of Dudley mowing the lawn, his shirt clinging grotesquely to him as it was drenched in sweat. Petunia was found standing in the middle of the kitchen staring blankly into space as a meal was already on the table.

"Kneel," he ordered as he and Voldemort sat down at the table. He watched with delight as Petunia kneeled and bowed her head to him.

"Enjoying yourself?" Voldemort asked, his crimson eyes alight with delight.

Harry nodded and dug in to the steak and potatoes Petunia had fixed him.

"What was with Snape? I thought he was Dumbledore's spy? Why would he be skulking around Knockturn?"

Voldemort hummed, "Severus Snape is a slippery man Harry. He is no more Dumbledore's as he is my own. He used your mother's death as a way into Dumbledore's good graces to save himself from Azkaban and he wormed his way back to me when I returned. He is a very complex man whose loyalties lay solely with himself. He is a dark wizard, no doubt about that, but he is careful to play both sides so that either way he wins."

"In fact," Voldemort mused aloud, "I suspect had you been sorted into Slytherin and become a dark wizard he would have much different towards you as well. After all, there were many who suspected that only an extremely powerful dark wizard could have defeated me."

Harry grinned ruefully, "If only I had taken Draco's hand on the train."

"The world would be a much different place," Voldemort agreed.

Harry finished his meal and ordered Petunia to take it away before turning back to Voldemort, "So how do we go about inviting Lady Parkinson?"

"Call her house elf after you have written her an invitation."

So Harry had Vernon drag his trunk up the stairs and kneel in the doorway as Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. Voldemort dictated what Harry should write and Harry copied it down.

Dear Lady Parkinson,

I have heard of your esteemed reputation in the fashion world and would be delighted if you would meet with me today at four pm at Moribund's Pub. I have rented a room for our use. If this is inconvenient or unacceptable please let me know. If not, I will see you at four.

Harry James Potter
Heir to the House of Potter

When the ink had dried Harry called the Parkinson elf, a creature the same size as Dobby and Kreature with large blue eyes and floppy ears, wearing a pillowcase with an emblem on the right hand corner. It hadn't acted bewildered when Harry had called it, it only bowed and promised to take the letter to his mistress before vanishing into thin air.

"We have three hours before we need to leave," Voldemort said as he steepled his fingers and paced in front of the window. "I am going to teach you a bit of parselmagic so that if anything ever happens you are free to harm those who should attack or anger you. Call one of your muggles." Anxious at the chance to learn parselmagic that could not be traced Harry called Vernon in and had him kneel in the center of the room.

Harry stood anxiously beside the fat muggle on the floor and looked to Voldemort. "Will this one be missed?" Harry thought about it for a moment before shaking his head, Vernon could always just disappear and it would be blamed on a Death Eater attack.

"Good, now the first thing to know with parselmagic is that unlike other magic, it is almost limitless. There are no incantations or wand movements to memorize, only intent. For parsel-wards and mind magic it is much trickier but for now we only need to teach you basics. Now focus your intent on the muggle, feel your magic and bid it in parseltongue."

Harry stared at Vernon for a long moment, every beating and every punishment flashing before his eyes, and before Harry knew it a single word dripped from his lips, 'break.' Harry's magic welled up, almost as if it had been waiting for this very moment and was eager to do his bidding. A loud sickening crack was heard and a shriek tore through Vernon and Harry realized his hand was pointed to the man's now disfigured thigh.

"Very good, little serpent," Voldemort drawled behind Harry and while the possessive arm around his waist had his stomach fluttering Harry couldn't quell the urge for more.

'Break,' This time his hand was pointed at the opposite thigh and Harry smiled and leaned his head back against Voldemort's shoulder as Vernon screamed.

'Little serpent, perhaps a silencing ward would be appropriate.'

So Harry cast one in parseltongue and when Voldemort confirmed it active Harry returned his focus to his muggle. 'Break', and this time Vernon shrieked not only in pain but at the sight of a bone sticking out of his calf, blood starting to pool on the floor. 'Break,' Harry whispered and fell back into Voldemort as Vernon continued to scream. Oh how he had longed for this. For years Harry had wanted this and now Voldemort was giving it to him on a silver platter. Cocooned in Voldemort's arms Harry had never felt more powerful or more safe.

So Harry continued, listening to the symphony that was Vernon's screams as Harry systematically broke bones in both legs and arms, building up to the final moment when Harry tilted his head and asked in delighted whisper, "Can I use the Cruciatus? Is it possible?"

Voldemort laughed and held Harry tighter as he ran his nose down Harry's neck, "Only in parseltongue my little serpent."

"Crucio," Harry whispered in glee as the muggle's broken body writhed on the floor. Harry wasn't sure which hurt worse, the Cruciatus curse or the broken limbs being twisted in angles unnatural for a human body. He held the curse for about a minute before he cut it off and watched his uncle yelp with each spasm of his broken body.

'Oh my little serpent, how you surprise me so.' Voldemort's hisses dripped like honey and a shiver of delight rolled down Harry's spine as a kiss was planted to the soft spot where Harry's shoulder and neck connected. And then there were teeth, sinking into his skin and Harry moaned as he arched back, closing the small gap between them.

Harry pointed his hand one last time and whispered, "disembowel." In the ecstasy of Voldemort around him, nuzzling his neck, and the screams of the muggle on the floor, his stomach tearing open and his intestines spilling up and out onto the floor, Harry felt his stomach coil so hard that he felt himself orgasm in Voldemort's arms.

Vernon gurgled for a split second before his head lolled to the side, his eyes glassy and unseeing. A manic laugh burst forth and Harry spun around in Voldemort's arms wrapping his own around the man's neck and pulling him down into a rough kiss. Harry bit at his lip but got no further as Voldemort bit back, a warm liquid dripping down his chin as Voldemort invaded his mouth, dominating him as he shoved Harry against the wall and explored his mouth as he pinned Harry's arms. Voldemort moved down, biting and nipping Harry's ear and neck, it took only moments before Harry was a mewling mess of need.

"P-please…" Harry hissed quietly, unknowingly slipping into parseltongue. This time Voldemort moaned and ground himself against Harry. But then cold air replaced the warmth of Voldemort's body and Harry moaned in protest.

"Wha-?" A dazed Harry asked as he looked to the extremely angry Voldemort.

"We can't." His words felt like ice water and Harry's body went numb. Of course they couldn't, this was Voldemort, the Dark Lord. Why would he want Harry-

"No no!" Voldemort raged and grasped Harry's face harshly, forcing Harry to look at him. "I am nothing more than a hallucination Harry. I don't have a corporeal form, no body!" Voldemort looked livid but Harry grabbed his hand and wrapped them around himself.

"But I can feel you!" He protested, though he knew Voldemort was right. How could you have more with a hallucination?

"It's all in your head Harry," Voldemort sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So we'll wait." Harry answered firmly. He would wait a hundred years if he had to. The feeling of Voldemort wrapped around him…of him dominating him…Harry had never felt anything close to it and he would tear apart the world just to feel it again.

Voldemort looked up, as if surprised by this. "Harry I'm sure any girl or guy would happily share their bed with you."

Harry thought about that for a moment before he grimaced, sure they would. Ginny had been crushing on him for years and so had almost every other girl at Hogwarts come Valentine's Day. But even as their faces flew through his mind none had so much as sparked an interest in him let alone the fire that Voldemort ignited in him.

Like a bolt of lightning it struck Harry, he fancied the Dark Lord. It had gone from all-consuming hatred to an all-consuming need in a mere week. Harry crossed the few steps to Voldemort and wrapped his arms around the man, smiling happily when hesitant arms surrounded him. "I'll wait for you." Harry promised, not quite sure if Voldemort would believe him or that he knew entirely what that meant. All he knew was that in that moment, Voldemort had ceased to be the ex-nemesis and had become something more profound. Something Harry had never had before.

"Here," Voldemort interrupted Harry's inner monologue, his face expressionless. "I'll teach you how to dispose of a body."

Harry nodded silently, slightly hurt at the abrupt conversation. So he listened as Voldemort explained how to use parselmagic to banish a body. After a final look at his dead uncle Harry smirked and banished it, along with all the blood and guts that had spilled out onto the floor. It now looked just as it had, bare and nondescript.

"I suppose I should write Dumbledore in a few days and tell him my uncle has gone missing." Harry said, trying to keep his voice even and not let on to his inner battle over what had just occurred between them. Instead he pushed those thoughts away and let himself relish in the fact that he had gotten his revenge on his uncle.

"Yes." Voldemort said shortly, not even looking his way. Instead the man was staring out the window as if he were deep in thought.