Vampire Smile, Kyla La Grange
Baby you need to leave
'Cause I'm getting drunk on your noble deeds
It doesn't matter that they don't get done
When I feel this cold they're like the fucking sun
Baby I need a friend
But I'm a vampire smile, you'll meet a sticky end
I'm here trying not to bite your neck
But it's beautiful and I'm gonna get
So drunk on you and kill your friends
You'll need me and we can be obsessed
And I can touch your hair and taste your skin
The ghosts won't matter 'cause we'll hide in sin
Baby you have a choice
'Cause you burn my ears with your magic voice
I'm a paper doll, you can tear me up
We'll be the broken lovers with the poison cup
And we'll draw in breaths like we don't have air
Oh god, look at me, don't you even care
That I'm dying in the cupboard underneath the stairs?
Steps stamp on above my head
Baby you're cruel to me
But you see I love it when you make me plead
I want a scar that looks just like you
'Til then I gotta learn to be a wiser fool
Harry woke—snapped awake by the Dark Lord, Crux, or Tom, he wasn't sure—with a painful erection, heart palpitating.
Voldemort squeezed his hand, awake and blinking at the blank white ceiling.
"Uh, good morning?" Harry said. Unsure if it was morning.
The Dark Lord winched but didn't move, so he disentangled himself, rolled out of the opposite side of his bed, and backed toward the bathroom. He wasn't pursued; Voldemort didn't move an inch.
He shut himself in and silenced the room, then frowned at the tiles. "If they fuse, he's going to be awful. A menace."
Tom began filling the tub and hummed, "I doubt we know the half of it. The alternative-"
Harry groaned, "Is there a secret, better third option?"
"If I find one, I will let you know."
As though he could sense them talking about him, Harry's Horcrux requested access, already thinking at him upon entry.
'He's drinking and it's four in the morning. Christ, are you ever anything but horny?'
He felt the need to rebutton his shirt, 'Yeah, sometimes I'm angry. What do you want?'
'Hostile for literally no reason, love that; how often would you say he scribbles without looking? Because my guesstimate is pretty damn high,' Crux thought, 'It's go time. You understand? We ante up. All cylinders. Fast. Tom do you understand me?'
Tom didn't respond, stopping the taps and frowning at the water.
'What he's got hidden in there is a tool. And not a tool for hiding all your extra-curriculars, I mean a tool for-'
"Don't." Tom snapped in Parseltongue.
'We're running out of time, and you being more afraid of it than Morty is boring and counterproductive.'
'He will kill us all if he understands what we are doing here. If the eggs hatch tomorrow? The day after? There is not enough time to-' Tom stopped himself, but Harry felt the hopelessness before it was locked away.
'I did not come this far to cease to fucking exist. Besides, can't be tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that; he has plans up to… Up to Sunday. Nagini's family, and some political ass-licking event. Do you think he's not made plans after Sunday because Sunday is the day? Or, the night? Because the political thing is at night?'
'…You are scared,' Harry thought.
' God, are you dense? Tom, do you think it's Sunday?'
'…Doesn't visiting Nagini's family feel like something he'd do, like, as a…' Harry tried to find the words.
'As a final parting gift before he brutally betrays her and rips his own heart out? Fuck, you're right. Ah, shit, that's… Not enough days? Tom?'
'It might not be Sunday…?' Tom supplied weakly, and Crux shot like a bullet out of Harry's head.
He was automatically wary of any suggestion his Horcrux made, but the insinuation that the only reason they were continuing to hide things from himself was because Tom was afraid was beating like a drum in his head.
"…Uh," he unbuttoned his shirt a second time, "That's not why, right…? How many times did he just say your name?"
"You know why. That is still true; he would react explosively to any of it, simply the knowledge that we are not only present in those dreams, but orchestrating them? That alone… Harry, don't take his word; he's told you everything you need to know about him—that he will manipulate us if our interests don't align, that he only serves himself, and that he lies."
He knew the Parseltongue was a sugarcoat, "…So will you. So do you. So do you."
"…Harry."
"No, it's fine, I'm great. Great." He put an undue amount of force into taking his pants off, decidedly angry and no longer horny.
He stewed silently in the bath for what felt like two hours, watching Bed Sheet twist in the air and scowling. Tom didn't attempt to clear his name or press, which Harry was simultaneously glad for and annoyed about.
When he exited the bathroom, still grumpy but clean, he paced to fix the ceiling—replacing the white with glass and the illusion of outside, which was how he learned that the sun was rising, and that it was snowing.
The Dark Lord was blinking at him from an armchair, almost looking through him, a bottle of amber spirits in hand. Harry only needed to watch him for a moment before he said:
"Want me to tell everyone you're dead?"
He blinked, sluggish, then shrugged the bottle to his lips.
Harry nearly asked him if he had any plans for the weekend, and Tom stopped the words in his mouth with a palpitating heart.
"…Nightmare?" He said instead, to nearly the same reaction, half tripping as he moved for a free armchair.
The Dark Lord laughed into the bottle, humourless. When he lowered it, he said, "Tell them we are all dead."
Harry didn't know if he meant them exclusively or everyone alive. "Are you really sticking to… You know. Ending the world?"
"I suppose if it were down to you, you would have already martyred yourself for the sake of those who would barely afford your sacrifice a thought," he said it nonchalantly, but he leaned in.
"… Yeah."
"Remarkable, the duality…" He leaned closer, frowning as though Harry were a museum exhibit before he realised what he was doing and corrected himself, swigging from the bottle.
"Everyone includes Cassiopeia. Nagini."
Voldemort sneered, jaw working before and after he'd put down the alcohol, "What you want from me is not something I will give. I am not your saviour. I will not give myself to- I will not have your mongrel Horcrux move a single inch in my skin am I making myself clear to you?"
"Didn't think you were that keen to die? Immortality who," Harry muttered, the Dark Lord twitching with every syllable.
"I do not plan to die."
Harry shrugged and sucked air through his teeth, " …Four pieces whole or black is the-"
"Shut up. I've heard it. Fate is not inescapable."
"…Never seen you escape it before, though," he'd begun flinching, too, words popping out of his mouth anyway.
"Do you have even the slightest inclination of what is lurking in my fucking head? Have you been paying any damned attention? Fused with him, I would not simply be- I would be an active threat to any who crossed my path. You are not asking me to make nice with a toothless whelp; you are asking me to yield to a fucking demon. Your Horcrux is an abomination."
"…I know. And I know you think I haven't thought about that, but I have, and I keep coming to the same conclusion."
The Dark Lord seemed pained but asked anyway, " Which is?"
"We don't know for sure what will happen if you fuse, but we know what will happen if you don't."
" Fate—is—not—inescapable."
"Well then how? How are you going to 'Escape' it?" Harry asked, and Tom added, "Basilisks? More the fool you."
"I did not ask for your input," Voldemort was leaning close again, scanning his face and silently insisting he reply.
Harry didn't. Instead, he crossed his arms and sat back.
"Breakfast?" He said once a good amount of time had passed. "Deal still stands. Pretty much stands till the end of time or 'til I decide you don't look like you're starving." He continued when the Dark Lord just glared at him.
He called for Kreacher and requested comfort food and hot chocolate—mostly for himself. He levitated wood into the fireplace with the Snakewood wand once the House Elf was gone, putting more in than was necessary simply because he could.
"…You'll snuff the fire entirely," the Dark Lord said.
"Incendio."
"Now the room will be too hot."
Harry laughed at the absurd stupidity of Voldemort complaining purely for the sake of complaining, guffawing until the elf returned a few seconds later to fill the coffee table with a small feast. He bowed with a string of praise and vanished with a pop.
"Are you gonna stay in here all day?" He asked.
The Dark Lord squinted at the ceiling, " Why did you change that?"
"Why did you change that? What if I love… Beige? Are you staying in here all day?"
"Do you love beige?"
"No?"
Voldemort laughed, then stopped himself, frowning while he sucked his lips into his teeth—biting the smile.
"What is wrong with you this morning?" Harry knew it had to boil down to the dream and the half a bottle he'd consumed before breakfast, but Voldemort didn't know he knew that. And if he considered it, the last thing he expected to see the Dark Lord do after that particular nightmare was laugh at the colour beige.
Voldemort did stay in the Room of Requirement through Monday, and then Monday night.
Then, through half of Tuesday before Harry asked, "Don't you have things to do?"
To which he'd replied, "My followers are autonomous enough for a short period."
Harry didn't know how long constituted a 'Short period'.
Crux had decided their best course of attack was to go for the eggs and buy themselves some extra time.
Tom was wary of the idea, certain some kind of fail-safe or trap was involved.
Harry knew the Dark Lord's mood was far more dire than he let on when he wasn't sent to defence class with Cassiopeia that night. He wondered if he'd be let out of sight again, though Crux seemed certain that he would—if only for the few hours it took to feed Harry's Horcrux and settle the rage it inspired.
It might have been a relief not to leave the room and see no one if the eggs weren't burning a hole in his brain.
"Where's Nagini?" It had been the third or fourth time he'd asked, met with a flinch and a non-answer. Standard. Harry supposed he felt guilty.
He'd debated threatening to tell them but figured that would only earn him a closer eye. If he told them, it would have to be in quick succession while the Dark Lord was otherwise occupied. If he could make it work, he'd tell Har, Cassiopeia, and Nagini simultaneously.
When Wednesday came and went, he worried that Voldemort might not leave him alone at all. Crux was due to be fed, signalled by his increasingly bratty attitude, threatening nuclear tantrums for imaginary transgressions.
Voldemort grew quieter as the hours passed, frequently ignoring Harry and staring blankly into the middle distance. Sometime after ten that night, the Dark Lord pulled the small blue stone that Harry had been given at Jaadoo Seekhana from his pocket and turned it over in his palm.
"Why did you give me this?" He didn't look at Harry as he asked.
"I… Dunno. You needed it more than me, I guess."
"Ce qu'il ressent pour toi, il le ressent pour moi…" Voldemort met his eyes, emotion briefly visible although he wasn't drunk. Fear.
"Vous avez trouvé ça drôle. Ce n'est plus aussi drôle maintenant?" Tom nodded when the Dark Lord ignored his question.
"Oui oui oui," Harry said, sarcastically waving his fingertips in the air before he realised it was more of an Italian stereotype and stopped.
Voldemort laughed, a snort that he caught the tail end of before another three followed. He looked utterly bewildered, torn between confusion and a fit of laughter that had Harry wondering if he was going insane all over again.
"Are you… Good?" He asked when the Dark Lord didn't stop.
"I don't know what the damn hell is wrong with me," he stood, still laughing, also frowning. He locked himself in the bathroom.
"…What?" Harry asked no one.
Voldemort finally gave in a bit over an hour later. He told Harry to stay in the room and Disapparated, so he wasted no time retrieving the map from under his pillow and scanning it rapidly.
Tom still didn't like the idea, but they had few other short-term solutions. Death Eaters could be bypassed, and eggs could be shattered.
Crux entered Harry's mind to be sure that he wasn't staying in the Room of Requirement; there and gone again in less than three words.
He paused at the sight of the Slytherin Common Room, five names he didn't think he'd find there, or together.
Reed, Ruby, Avalon, Ginny, and Aaliyah.
"Uhh?" He said.
Crux was gone, and so he couldn't propose a change of plans. Not that the weird meeting would take priority. It was weird, though, and that made him nervous.
"If we bust the eggs fast enough, we can go see what they're doing?" He pulled his boots on and told Bed Sheet the mission was covert.
"How would we do that without the cloak?" Tom said.
"Oh, right. We find Cassiopeia, and she can listen? Maybe she already knows why? It would have to be Har's doing, right? Would she be able to hear at the top of the Slytherin stairs?" His questions were whispered rapid fire.
Tom didn't respond, watching the map like a hawk.
Cassiopeia was in the hospital wing with Vanya and Lydia, too far from where they needed to be. He took the west tower way to Hagrid's hut and only needed to Imperio six Death Eaters. And three students, two of which were out after curfew, as he was. The other a Hufflepuff Prefect.
The hut where the toads were kept was outside the range of the map, as were the Vivariums. When he reached the tree line—snow up to his ankles—he tucked the parchment in his robe pocket and pulled Bed Sheet's hood over his head, hopefully enough cover in the dark.
He didn't light his wand as he walked, though the urge was strong. After a few minutes of nearly stumbling in the pitch black, he heard voices ahead. Rookwood and someone else.
They didn't think about what to do with them for long. Tom Imperioed all three of the Death Eaters standing guard—sitting, technically—in quick succession, taking no chances with Imperioing just the one.
Tom marched all three back toward the castle with wide eyes, his entire stomach in his throat. He cast half a dozen detection and shield charms before he stepped into the small clearing and continued to cast after he had. The thought that it was too easy repeating on the both of them.
Instead of the lack of a trap soothing him, he was more wary than he had been to start, sneaking up on the shack as though it might run or bite.
Until Harry took over and barged into the shed with the Snakewood wand already spitting sparks. He sent a small Bombarda at the toad on the left, the middle, and the right, as fast as he could cast.
He blinked when the magic dissipated, nervous to find the toads and the eggs entirely unaffected.
Tom took a quick step forward and swiped a hand through the middle toad. No resistance. The ghost of a lumpy toad on the apparition of a chicken egg.
"…Are they protected by some kind of magic?" Harry asked.
"They're not here. They're not really here." Tom was on his hands and knees, trying to pry floorboards free, throwing open the one small cabinet in the room—nothing inside it—then standing to spin on the spot.
"Where-" His question was interrupted by Harry's Horcrux.
Crashing into his mind in a way that told him they were past the point of no return, ' He's gonna catch you. He tricked me and I'm gonna BITE ALL HIS SKIN OFF. I didn't get enough warning. Oh, fuck OFF, they're not even here?' He was gone before Harry could answer.
He heard the pop of Apparition before he had time to step out. There was a flash of fear, but mostly, he was angry, more so when he exited to find that the Dark Lord was smug above all else.
Holding a ball of gold light in his left palm, the smirk half in shadow, "Did you find what you were seeking?"
"No, some scared idiot showed me a projection, so, they're not really in there," Harry said.
"A true shame for your noble cause," Voldemort said, stepping forward.
"Kinda suspected you'd do something like this, but had to try it anyway." He still held his wand, raising his arm when the Dark Lord was almost close enough to touch with it.
"Does Rookwood know he is guarding nothing?" Tom asked.
"Of course not."
Tom made a 'Huh,' noise, and Harry could swear he was impressed. The wrong time to be impressed, he thought.
"…Is there anyone guarding the real eggs?" Harry asked.
The Dark Lord hummed and turned away, unconcerned by Harry's wand. He'd spotted the grin he'd spun to hide, genuine and still alien to see on his face.
"How did you know we were trying to-"
"Simple guess-work," the Dark Lord said, walking and lighting the way back to the castle, "I leave you alone after I show them to you, and you go."
He followed, matching pace. Urgent that they reach the castle if Voldemort's speed was anything to go by.
"… Did you feed my Horcrux?" Harry wondered in Parseltongue, and the Dark Lord paused.
"No."
The way the light hit the trees made their shadows seem alive, writhing around them like many limbed snakes.
"Are you developing a sense of humour? Is that what's wrong with you?" He spoke to fill the silence that had sprouted, though he was curious.
Making Voldemort genuinely laugh made him feel strange. It seemed to make the Dark Lord feel strange, as well. As though he'd never found anything funny in his life, baffled by his own reaction.
When he turned to face Harry, he was half smiling, half scowling, and half lit by the gold he held. "…There are many things to laugh about," he scoffed as though to prove it, "Everything is hilarious."
He should have guessed that he was about to be pinned to a tree because of Voldemort's general demeanour. He supposed if he had seen it coming, he likely wouldn't have gotten out of the way.
"I get why you're scared," he said instead of dodging.
"You do not. Against all odds, my Horcrux is a simpering kitten in your head. You have no idea."
"Mm, I wouldn't say simp-"
"Shut up?"
"You shut up." Harry shrugged, held by the robes, so the motion was stunted.
Bed Sheet was used to him being tossed around, he assumed, and barely growled. An eldritch huff, if anything.
"Got you to admit you're scared, though," he continued, and Voldemort pressed his forehead to Harry's so forcefully it was almost a headbutt.
"Take your clothes off."
"It's snowing…? I mean, it snowed. Oh, fuck," the heated hand on his cock made the snow less concerning.
Made the fact that they couldn't find the eggs fairly insignificant.
"I will keep you warm."