Tom stared down at the waters below, watching as the angry waves slapped against the cliffside. They were as violent as always, making the man scowl with distaste. It wasn't often that he visited wretched areas like this. He wished it would stay that way.

"Bleak." He summons, hearing the resounding pop of the creature appearing by his side. He looked down, his feet damp from the moist air and the few lucky waves that managed to lick his feet.

His Death Eaters would be jealous.

"Yes, Master?" The elf bowed in submission, bearing its neck as Tom had taught it. Although it never bowed to the boy, much to Tom's dissatisfaction.

"Is Hadrian asleep?" He demands. Something in the air shifts. He has arrived.

"Yes, Master. The Young Master is asleep in the healing bed with the kind lady." Bleak does not look up. He doesn't even move.

"Good, dismissed." The creature pops away, leaving Tom alone with that.

"Tom," The voice is deep and throaty, like someone who had lost their voice from a screaming match. His skin prickles. He hates that damn voice.

"Death," Tom greets, turning around to face the man, the one that holds his chains. The one that would have sucked the life out of him…if he hadn't placed Tom here to begin with.

"I asked you to call me by name, did I not?" Tom looks at the man, the creature, the deity. He was tall, barely there, his body shrouded with his ghostly cloak. In his hands was a wand, a wand Tom knew well. He scowled.

"You dare use that in front of me?" He snarled, stepping closer. A hand shot out, translucent fingers wrapping around his neck. Tom stilled, caught. He watched as the man's bones flexed underneath his pellucid skin. Disgusting.

"Watch yourself, Tom." Death purred, gravelly voice surrounding him. "You can always be replaced."

"A new one would never watch that boy like I would," Tom shot back. That was how their… relationship, for lack of a better word, worked. Tom would misspeak, Death would threaten his meagre mortal life, and Tom would bring up the little boy he housed. The anchor. Tom's anchor.

The world's anchor.

"I suppose not." Death released his grip, floating back and giving Tom room to breathe.

"He's grown very attached, did you know?" Tom can't help but goad. "He calls me Dad. Not even 'Father'. He quite likes me."

"So you mentioned," Death responded, drifting away to a familiar door. "Does he know that you don't like him in return?"

Tom scowled again, following him to the cave's entrance. He summoned a smaller, unfamiliar house elf and instructed it with what to do.

"Slice your hand, creature."

"But, Master-"

"Now."

"Master!"

"Avada Kedavra." Tom intoned, shaking his head in distaste. These creatures should be more loyal. He'd have used Bleak, but the last time Tom hurt the creature, Harry cried for days over it. Tom had taken to using elves that Hadrian didn't know of so that the damn elf didn't have "another kitchen accident", as the boy had been told.

"Spell happy as always, Tom." Death said, barely sparing him a glance.

"Silence." Tom sliced the tiny elf with a wave of his wand, watching as the still-warm blood oozed out. He coated his fingers in it and stepped over the dead body, spreading the content on the wall. It creaked and ground, opening into a dark cave. Death stepped forward.

"Lumos," Tom cast, joining the man. They walk through the partially lit area, letting the deity guide them through it. It was the same cave Tom remembered from his own childhood, but this one was different. This one was housing a Horcrux.

"A shame you humans need to see in the dark,"

"You're just a joy to be around, aren't you?" Tom snapped back. They approached the edge of the water, Tom instinctively stepping back. Death waved his hand, lighting up the area. Soft blue light reflected from the dark water, the section unnaturally calm. Tom peered over it, seeing the soft white underneath.

Inferi.

Tom waves his hand, rocks flying from every edge of the cave. Big, small, mossy, wet, it didn't matter; they conjoined together across the water, shaping and forming into a bridge. Tom stepped on it, letting the figure follow him this time.

Tom couldn't hide his snort as the Inferi dove up out of the water, reaching for their ankles to drag them underneath the dark surface. They couldn't reach at this height, though. Tom ducked underneath a low-hanging stalactite, moving around the sharp growth.

Tom heard a sickening crunch, and he turned, watching as two more Inferi were thrown from the bridge with a wave of Death's hand. Odd, but not unwarranted. Tom nodded at the display.

"What awful, disgusting creatures," Death muttered, walking ahead. Tom smirked.

"Aren't they your creatures?" Death let out a raspy, staggered laugh, shaking his cloaked head. He waved a finger.

"I cannot claim anything made of life, even if it's only half of one."

"So souls?"

"Are simply that: souls."

"Dementors?"

"Are beings of death regardless. They cannot die; they fade back into magic when it's their time." Death didn't elaborate. Tom didn't need him to. He'd rather learn everything about life rather than death.

Exiting the makeshift bridge, they approached the white basin, Death erecting a small, invisible wall to protect them from the raging Inferi behind them. The creatures didn't like being attacked, especially not by someone who reeked of their creator's smell, as Tom did. Inferi always searched for revenge for becoming what they were.

"Grab it," Death demanded. Tom resisted rolling his eyes and instead stuck his hand into the water, pushing a jolt of magic out like he would a wand. The ivory-coloured water slowly drained away, leaving a singular golden locket ordained with a brilliant emerald.

"Now?"

"Open it."

"Must I?" Death didn't answer, raising his scythe instead. Tom quickly unlatched the lock, staring down at it.

"Ah, no note."

"Note?"

A dark air rose from the locket before the bastard could answer, swimming up and up and trying to form itself into a memory, a fear, anything from Tom's mind that the locket could twist and change and enhance. Tom stood still as the smoke rushed back into the locket before raising again, forming something vaguely human.

Tom couldn't help but stare in sick fascination as a soul rose from the crushed locket, rearing up into the air. It was an old, ugly thing, lacking hair but at least having a nose. The one in the ring didn't have a nose.

"Who dares-"

"Silence," Tom commanded, raising his wand. "You're quite an annoying thing to track down."

"It would have been easier if I had checked here first," Death adds, playing with his scythe. The soul, Voldemort, turns with a scowl. Tom gives an annoyed eye roll.

"Who are you?"

"I am Death."

"I am you. A far more…put together you."

"How? The diary?" The locket-soul hisses back, his voice a mix between broken Parseltongue and English. The man really was far gone."

"No, although he was far harder to deal with."

"What are you?" The soul tries to rush forward, but he's yanked back by the locket on the ground. It cracks.

"I'm you," Tom replies with a sharp smile. "This one is much stupider than the last one."

"Why you-"

"Agreed," said Death, moving closer. His hand shot out, grabbing the ugly face of the soul, leaning in. And like a dementor, Death kissed the Horcrux. Tom looked away, a little green.

"What a disgusting method," he muttered, knowing he wouldn't get a response until the deity was done digesting. He was almost worse than a dementor. At least those didn't speak.

"It is done," Death spoke after a moment, his voice raw, the air much warmer with the lack of the Horcrux. Tom nodded beside him, picking up the locket. Such a pretty trinket, destroyed because Voldemort spliced his soul one to many times.

"This place must remain hidden, Caedos," Tom said darkly, making his stance known. "From all of your little friends."

"Indeed, Tom." Death turned, walking over the bridge unbothered. Tom sighed, following the man.

"Is that the last one?"

"I believe so. How odd it is, though, that it was still here." Tom wanted to ask what he meant but refrained. "Regulus Black stole the last one, you see."

"In the main timeline?"

"Yes. I believe in this path, he was turned into one of those." He gestured at the inferi, their pale bodies and gangly limbs rearing back to grab at them, but they were never able to reach quite so high up. Their sharp nails ripped at the bridge. "How unfortunate, living in between life and death."

"Indeed."

"You would know," Death added. Tom knew that if the bastard had teeth, he would be smiling.

"I'm more alive than you'll ever be." He hissed, stomping ahead. He watched as black smoke drifted out of the cave, Death taking his leave.

As Death disappeared, Tom stepped out of the cave entrance, dropping the crushed remnants of the locket as he did so. Stepping over the elf, he felt his shoes sink into the mud. Rain fell gently against his skin, more like a mist than actual rainfall. Tom sighed, looking up at the sun. It was finally beginning to set. He should have brought an umbrella.

With a twist, he apparated home.