let me go, hold me close

Loathe as he was to admit, the boy was so very different to the boy he had once known and hated. 

More confident, more grating, more beautif—

No!

Nothing is said in the early dawn as they sit directly opposing the other, the sun rising slowly behind him through the clear glass window.

In the early light, Harry looked exquisite.

He needs to regain control of his faculties immediately.

He cannot, as he continues to study the boy further, unable to seperate himself from that longing within.

"Can you stop staring at me like you're trying to wandlessly incendio my hair off?", without even a glance at him, hand still busy moving fork from mouth to an almost empty plate and back.

If only, that would be a welcoming thought, unlike the ones that currently spiral.

"I am not staring at you, Potter", a lie. "I was just", what exactly, "thinking." It sounds more like a question, but the boy does not pick up on it, thank Merlin!

"You do sound different from the Lord Voldemort I once knew", Harry's voice is low in the silent kitchen, his eyes don't leave his half cup of tea. "He would never have—" the boy looks up at him for a second at that. He does not continue.

"Never have what, Potter?" Even as he is slowly filled with glee at this admittance. Hook, line and sinker. Potter was infinitely easier than any human or creature he had ever attempted to charm. In fact, his efforts with the purebloods had been so much more arduous.

"Whatever you're doing right now. You've only attempted to Crucio me twice, and you didn't try to kill me even once. And I was asleep when you—" He stops. "Nevermind. Just don't threaten my parents anymore, Tom."

"You will never ever refer to Lord Voldemort by that wretched name, or he will be sure to dismember you limb from limb, do you understand boy!"

"Merlin. Guess you really are him, huh?" At that the boy stares off into the outside morning, birds starting to chirp away as the light slowly fills the room.

He cannot think of an adequate reply to this accusation, one that would help and not hinder. 

It is quiet for a long moment, too long, he wasn't counting unfortunately, his mind busy considering options that just don't seem quite right.

"You will find a way to bring him back, if you want any help from me that is, it's my one and only condition! I want Tom back! As he was!"

"Potter!"

"No! Unless you want me to talk to Dumbledore?" A low blow indeed. Getting rid of the old fool had been at the very bottom of the priorities list, until the boy had decided to disrupt his plans once more.

"I will attempt to seperate myself from the boy", a lie. "Although, I do consider it an impossible task, I assure you."

"I won't allow you to break the bond until you figure out how!" Solid green meets fiery crimson, a challenge. 

"Lord Voldemort cares not what he is allowed and forbidden, he takes as he wishes, as is his right!" Foolishness, to aggravate the boy further!

"Well, I seem to remember a Lord Voldemort forbidden from using his favorite little torture spell. Is he finally allowed then?" That defiance carved into stone, an unchanging facet of this boy he could not fully understand.

He almost retorts in kind —well, his kind— and yet, he stops himself just at the edge.

"You are as infuriating as ever, Harry Potter", he finally manages in a level tone, the words he couldn't help stop. 

It brings him an almost smile.

The boy was as disconcerting as ever.

"From you, I would take it as a compliment."

There is absolutely no considered response for such a statement. None had ever dared to make his displeasure the subject of their amusement. 

This boy!

A deep breath, an attempt to recalibrate his focus when the realization hits. Had he been tensing every single part of himself in the boy's presence, as if preparing for something? Imminent attack, most likely.

(Anxiety and nerves?) Absolutely not!

He was in the presence of his worst enemy, his prophesied vanquisher! He should be on his guard!

He was not on his guard as he kept paying too much attention to the voices in his head.

He was helpless, he was not!

That green hooks him, as memories come piling on in a waterfall of time spent with Harry, looking into those eyes. That green...

(He was helpless)

He was not! He was Lord Voldemort!

Focus.

"I will find a way to seperate myself from the boy, if you let me attempt to break the bond first, Potter. I know nothing about either at the moment, I will admit; but logically, once the bond is broken, it would be easier to seperate the pieces it helped bring together, don't you think?" 

Not a total fabrication, as even if he managed to seperate all his Horcruxes after, he isn't certain of what would happen if he tried to remove Tom's soul from this body. And should he confirm his safety in such an action, there was just no way he would give the boy back this young and perfect body for the kind of husk he had worn in another life. 

He had to get rid of this bond, and now.

"How do I know you won't just kill me after?" Clever, but just not clever enough.

'You won't know that I will kill you until I do', he wants to scream at the brat, and yet. "I will sign a Magical contract", one he would create himself. 

"How about that Unbreakable Vow you offered me earlier?", damn it all to Salazar!

And still, a loophole remains. 

Always.

"I will accept a carefully worded Unbreakable Vow, Harry Potter, words solely of my choosing. Who is to be our bonder?" Give the boy some semblance of control.

"I" the boy starts before he looks off through the window once more, as if in embarrassment. 

"You haven't told a single person here who you really are, have you boy?" A realization for himself as well.

"Well. I was about to tell Tom when you—" he cuts off abruptly. A different tone, "—showed up", it makes him want to smile. A trace of that original ache in his head flows through him, almost sweet in memory. That first most glorious pain of freedom. (Was he? Free?) Focus.

"This will pose a problem, Potter, unless you can Conjure up a bonder, perhaps? You were lauded the second coming of the great Merlin himself, weren't you? The boy who lived. This so called vanquish..." "Can you stop for one bloody second?"

He almost apologizes, catching himself at just the moment. He cannot help it, he's barely even paying attention to his words, and reflexive hostility was always step one. No, those eyes in the morning light as they get consistently brighter and more radiant have him hooked. 

Tom had spent countless hours staring at Harry in this exact way during their breakfasts here. Or at Potter manor. Or Hogwarts. At their library table as Harry spoke of— No!

"I will admit, with you I fail every attempt at civility, Potter. You are just that infuriating, I suppose. However, Lord Voldemort is the greatest there ever was, or will be, so he shall—"

"Please stop with the third person!"

"I limit myself solely to civility Potter, and it is because I expect it reciprocated during my stay here. Lord Voldemort cares not for the tense you speak to him in, as he is not listening to your nonsense! Do not seek to bother me with your frivolity Potter, it will not result in a very happy—"

"This is your best attempt at civility?" A rude mocking tone as his words from earlier are thrown back at him.

An aborted third attempt at the Cruciatus, the boy was truly infuriating. "Tea, elf", he looks away while taking a quick sip as it appears instantly. A rather scalding sip due to the sheer volume of liquid, a merciful diversion from the murderous rage running through him.

The boy was so very lucky he was needed alive.

And that Lord Voldemort's hands and mouth were currently occupied.

Not in that way!

Focus! 

"I suppose we should reach a compromise, and quick." He really hopes they would, strangling the boy like a Muggle was definitely a repugnant task he wasn't looking forward to in the least.

"I want Tom back", green eyes bore into his skull, that face defiant.

"As you've mentioned once or twice" He waves his hand in a casual gesture that is anything but casual. He had to ensnare the boy and now!

"I—" Harry is cut off by his wandless silencing spell, the reason for that gesture. Honestly, he was more than thirty, hadn't he felt that magic against himself? What a pathetic excuse for a wizard.

"Cease with your incessant babbling. I am sure Lord Voldemort will manage to persuade you entirely." The boy was now giving him what could only be called a glare. The absolute nerve, the sheer audacity of this boy he—

Focus!

"You want your filthy little half blood back and Lord Voldemort wants to be free of this prison that surrounds him. His Magic. His soul!" That last word is a affronted hiss.

That mouth opens in response, either in agreement, unlikely, or for a string of furious profanities, more likely, both of which never leave. Which is honestly  a pity, as he would like to have seen Harry when he was angry, a still foreign emotion between them. No, he would not, he already knows how the boy looked in anger! He already knows which words the boy would use. He does not need the introduction recapitulation.

"I propose a fair deal where we research how to seperate myself from the boy for one full week, before we switch to breaking the bond in the next, alternating every week." Hook—

"If we manage to resolve one curiosity before the other, we will then continue our research until we've doubled the number of then current weeks or until we find a solution, which ever is sooner. After that, we implement any possible solutions" Line—

"What do you mean by that?" A little more line then.

"It means Potter, that if we can break the bond within a month and we still cannot bring your filthy little—", Harry's face feels like a stab in the chest. Focus! "Tom. If we do not learn how to bring back Tom even after two months, we will break the bond right then. Do you understand now, you stupid little—"

"Civility, huh?" This boy! No! He could not hurt his Harry so!

"I" apologize? Lord Voldemort apologizes to no one. "May have misspoke, Potter." The words feel like that soot in the back of his throat, those rare times he had been forced to clear the chimney and fireplace at Wools.

What! How dare this boy conjure up any memories of that place! He was above this!

Harry does not help, as his face softens slightly. "I almost thought that was an apology."

"I think that's a step too far, to be honest, Potter", his own tone almost matches the slight humor in the boy's keen observation. (He was helpless)

If only he knew, how he was torturing Lord Voldemort on the inside without the need for any Cruciatus at all. There was a reason he had buried his feelings within those Horcruxes, and now his chickens were finally home.

Focus!

"Do you agree then, boy?"

"Only if you never call me that ever again" Oh! The vehemence in his voice palpable.

But why?

Focus.

"I will not, Potter. Do we have an agreement?"

"You will swear a Vow to bring back Tom and not hurt my family?"

"I will vow to bring back the boy and to not intentionally harm your family. You will vow to help me in all ways, to expedite the breaking of this so called Unbreakable Bond. Are we in agreement, Potter?" 

Too much damned line, the boy had better—

"I'm not going to be one of your little minions, let me assure you of that before we even start. I'm not your little Death Eater slave, calling you my Lord and shit, do not expect that at all or you will be—"

"Potter, you will stop with that, right this instant!"

"Well, you think I'm just here to be one of your fucking slaves and I am definitely not that." He is fire, Fiendfyre, and just as uncontrollable. Just as deadly. Just as beautiful—

Focus!

"I have never implied your position to be that of a slave, Potter." Quite the opposite in fact, Tom was his slave. Slave to his love for his Harry.

He was not Tom! He was Lord Voldemort!

"Well, you just said—"

"I know what I said Potter. Help, Lord Voldemort is sure he used the word help to describe your participation. Does he need define the term further?"

"No", reluctant acceptance, perhaps the best he could hope for, from Potter.

"And our bonder?"

"Give me a day or two to decide. This does not mean two days of trying to get around the Vow, just so we're clear."

He almost wants to roll his eyes at the boy, the implied insult meaningless in the boring repetition of all the boy's words for him.

"It is at my mercy that even the thought of such a Vow exists, and you would do well to remember that. Never forget that Lord Voldemort chose to be benevolent, he could have severed you limb from limb..."

"You really like the severing of the limbs, don't you?"

He was going to kill this boy in the exact way he found amusing at the moment. Surely those lips would lose their curve when it was his own limbs at stake.

Focus.

He could not touch a hair on the boy's head. Not until after. 

Oh well, a test of self-discipline was the least he could expect from Harry Potter of all people. Potter had always been a testament to his restraint, or lack thereof. Something he needed to change. 

And yet, at present, his company was bordering on unbearable.

"I do indeed, Potter", and I will really like it when they are finally yours. What he needs is an exit, before he said something he couldn't hold back. They had managed to discuss the specifics of their new arrangement, after all.

Or, as much as they would be able to, without devolving into brawling on the floor like some filthy Muggles.

"Well, as wonderful as this discussion has been, I simply must—" "Please go. Don't come back. Please let the door hit you on your—" 

"Potter!" "Just reciprocating your own civility"

A sharp smile at those words, all teeth.

Fair enough.

He stands up in the now golden kitchen, the gleam of the white countertop was almost blinding. 

"Wonderful." His tone implies nothing of the sort. "Have a day, Potter. I will be back to inform you once I have the rituals set up, and I will ensure to keep your participation at a minimum." For both their sakes. "Do not presume to bother me—"

"Have a day", the boy repeats back to him as he moves to stand, vanishing away on the spot with a soft crack.

And loathe as he was to admit, —those words, that curt tone, that abrupt goodbye that wasn't really one, that boy—, that boy stayed with him until the late hours of the evening. Every curve of the runes he needed to carve, likened to a different curl pattern in Harry's hair. Every potion ingredient reminded him of how Harry had once taught him the most efficient way to process them.

Every inhale brought in with it this unknown hunger. For the source of this new yet familiar scent he knew was that boy.

That he had to bring himself to focus over and over, a failing that left him unsettled, that he was never successful, that he missed the boy—

No!

He would not feed any of the frustration and anger he felt at his situation. Yes, it was more onerous than expected, but he has no choice. 

He was Lord Voldemort! He would get every single thing he ever wanted, and what he really wanted was to be fully rid of the boy, even in memories. Especially in memories.

Just for now though—

For now, he would do as he had done once and lie in wait. He would be Tom Riddle once more, the only surefire way to get to Harry Potter. 

One he knows from experience.

Yes, he would do it!