Don't kill me now
He's still in the process of cursing death when, he meets his eyes. It's like an explosion, like it was meant to be, he feels the overwhelming emotion bubbling up from his veins to his head. Threatening to make it pop. He doesn’t say or do anything. His magic does for him, crackling out instinctively and hitting him.
Voldemort is dead once again. And he knows that Voldemort knows.
The moment repeats once again, but this time Harry knows what to expect, and doesn’t waste anytime drowning himself just by meeting those sickly red gems.
He swipes his wand in front of that grotesque, balding, pale grey, head, and remembers that once handsome boy, all alone by himself, Harry realises that he must have been birthed during or just before WW2. That familiar feeling of pity and remorse rises to the surface again. It only takes one look at the castle, broken, violated, disassembled, to conjure the comforting hate that he feels towards him.
Harry’s magic rushes once again.
Strange, he thinks, Voldemort doesn’t seem to want to move.
He feels the crackle of his magic than hear it as it shoots at the immobile monstrosity.
He does this again. And again. And again.
Voldemort does nothing. It infuriates him.
Harry gets an idea; he does something different.
“Truce?” He whispers so only Voldemort can hear it. He looks back at Harry, weary. He looks over Voldemort’s shoulder.
“I just want to die.” He says quietly, hoarsely. He gives Harry a smile, all teeth and blood.
He doesn’t know what to do, say. What would anyone do or say? Harry knows that its doubt rushing through all his pores, Voldemort wants to die. A simple statement that contradicts all his beliefs and Voldemort’s.
“It’s so peaceful. Burning in hell. The pain, the constant smell of rotting flesh, the screams, I like the screams most of all, so, so, liberating in a way. It’s like here in the war, I can pretend I am living forever and the screams they aren’t mine but the people I’m putting under the cruciatus curse. I just want to die Harry potter; can you give me that?”
Harry, cannot give a response to that.
“So, yeah Truce or nah Truce?” He responds stupidly, and holds out his hand.
Voldemort looks at him like he could strangle Harry, Harry drops his wand, and his hand.
Harry opens his eyes, and wonders if it was all just a silly dream. Light flits out from the curtain covered windows, it makes his eyes burn.
He feels around and finds his glasses on a bedside table, a bedside table he never had before, Harry puts them on.
It takes a millisecond for him to realise this. Is. Not. His. Bedroom. Before he can start screaming bloody murder, he hears a noise, like a sigh, to the right of him. There’s a Tom Riddle right next to him. The Tom Riddle is on a bed, sleeping.
He doesn’t need a second thought to jump up from the bed. However, it does take a second thought to wonder. Where the actual fuck is he? He looks at the Tom Riddle again. Or maybe it’s the matter of when?
He comes to the conclusion, the Tom Riddle must be voldyshorts, and the battle of Hogwarts was in fact not some very graphic fever dream.
He taps him awake; the Tom Riddle wakes up immediately.
“Harry potter?” It asks questioningly.
“Er...yeah.”
“Why are you younger th- “
“Ok Tommy. Are you Voldemort?”
“Yes”
“Do you want the good news or bad news first?”
“What is hap-“
“Great, the bad news is you’re Barbie sized and we may or may not be stuck in the past, buuuttt the good news is you’re not bald anymore. Hooray!”
“I have the urge to just grab your neck and strangle you.” Voldemort said.
“Too bad, VoldyMcnuggets, we are most definitely stuck together forever and ever and ev- “
There's a knife in Voldemort’s tiny hands, well moderately tiny hands.
He sees red.
He soon finds out that the red is his blood.
They're back at Hogwarts.
Harry shows Voldemort the middle finger before killing him.
"Hah, take that Voldemoldy, killed you 159 times now and you've only got me. What, 153 times? Admit defeat and bow down to Harry potter mortal!"
"Voldemort. I swear you cheated. There is no way I could have died to you 4 times in a row!" Harry shouted.
"Admit it, Voldebaldy, you cheated."
A death eaters, students and teachers stared at the two in obvious shock.
"I'm ever so sorry potter that I am inevitably stronger than you." Voldemort replied, insincere.
He and Voldemort walked away from the crowd of people.
"Can you please wear some shoes." Harry asks.
"No."
"Please."
"No."
"I haven't eaten in a century. Could we eat?"
"No."
"Why are we looping? Why did we end up in the past after the Truce thing?" Harry questions.
Voldemort shrugs. Harry is stunned into silence.
"We should try again, y'know, we have all the time in the world." Harry says dryly.
Voldemort nods. Harry is once again stunned into silence.
"So, err, truce?" He holds out his hand.
Voldemort looks at his hand, grimaces, and takes it.
"Truce." He says.
Nothing happens.
They try once more. Nothing.
They give Voldemort shoes. Nothing happens.
At some point they stop killing each other. At some point, a point very far, far away.
"Let's go somewhere." Harry says one day. He looks over to Voldemort, and he knows from the glint in his eyes he agrees.
Harry does something he has never been able to do since he got stuck with Voldemort: laugh freely, Voldemort screams and screams, high-pitched and annoying, as he flies on Harry’s broom, almost killing himself with every movement.
"You enter first." Harry demands.
Voldemort scoffs, "I lived in more" he does air quotations "scary voodoo places." He says shooting an unimpressed look at him.
Harry pushes him in the cave.
"Fuck you potter! My clothes are wet, I paid alot for this. You- aargh!"
"Get off. Get off!" Voldemort screams.
"There was something fucking slithering on me, you prat ass!"
He looks at Harry’s legs. "Its fucking water you girl."
"Oh."
"Yes, oh, potter please tell me why you thought it appropriate to fucking jump on me?"
"Er.."
"Exactly! You have no reason to have done that, ruining my expensive clothes!"
" I"ll pay you ba-"
"You better!" Voldemort said sniffing.
"Let's try again."
"It didn't work all those centuries ago why try now?"
"Its- its just, hope."
"Hope doesn’t look too flattering on you potter, not that you looked any nicer before."
"Eat shit but still, we were in the past then, we can change stuff. Like your face, your nose, your hair and people." He said nonchalantly, or how he tried to sound.
"Ok."
They were in Voldemort’s room again, although Voldemort was standing looking at a news paper, face void of emotion.
"Voldem-"
"Call me Tom."
Harry nodded.
"Tom, what time are we in?"
"We're leaving for hogwarts now."
"Oh shit."