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One two three, one two three, red eyes watched the figure move awkwardly around the dance floor. His intense gaze never leaving the young man, drinking in his presence. Although the Dark Lord still wanted to kill the Potter boy, he was much more interested in the sensations that he provoked.
There's this connection between them, something beyond being enemies. Beyond the plans of Albus Dumbledore. Beyond the prophecy. Something lurking deep down in their core.
One two three, one two three, his young boy tripped, a scowl in his partner's face. With an uncertain look, the teen tried to remain as calm as he could, not realising that only one pair of eyes were watching his every move.
One,
The Dark Lord stood still as he watched the awkward dance until the music stopped. With one last look at each other, both teens parted ways.
Two,
Seeing his opportunity, he headed for the green-eyed boy, smoothly dodging the other bodies. His appearance of a normal student from Durmstrang shimmered slightly. Just before reaching him, Voldemort took one last look at his surroundings, and cast a spell. No one was going to interrupt them.
Three,
Realizing that something strange was going on, Harry turned around and... Just like his instinct has been telling him, there he was. His heart's pounding loudly against his chest. What's Voldemort doing here? Why's no one doing anything? Looking around him, every person is still as statues, he thought in shock at noticing Ron not that far from him, looking unhappy. Not looking at him. Like in a recording that was stopped, every person, every movement, the whole place was deadly still, leaving only two people aware of what's happening.
He gulped down his fear and faced the red eyes in the middle of a pale face.
"Voldemort." It sounded out of breath. A mere whisper.
His bald head tilted to one side as if considering, intensely so, what to do. What to say. Harry, who's conscious he doesn't have his wand with him, cursed in his head. How was he going to get out of this situation? He needed help but there's no one else. He took a step back. One. No one can help him. Two. He's surrounded by so many of his classmates, by his teachers and many others, and yet no one can do anything. Three. This is it, he thought in defeat. I'm going to die right here, right now.
"What are you waiting for, then?" the boy demanded shakily after long minutes of being scrutinised.
The intense look he was receiving made him uncomfortable, worried. Is he waiting for something? If it wasn't for his black clothes flowing in non-existent wind, Harry would have thought the Dark Lord had been petrified as well. He wasn't even blinking.
"Harry Potter," His voice sent a small shiver down his spine. He got closer to the raven, and then stopped just in front of him. Voldemort's eyes never strayed from his. "Dance with me."
Eyes wide with shock, Harry stuttered. "W-what!?"
Putting his left hand out as an offering, Voldemort half bowed down, a burlesque smile forming in his mouth, a facsimile of his charming smile from when he was younger. When he was Tom Riddle.
"Dance with me, Harry Potter." He repeated. It wasn't a request.
Still unsure of what to do in such a surreal situation, the boy placed his hand over the paler one. Better not upset him. I just need to distract him until I come up with an idea, was his last thought before feeling warmth flooding in his entire body and mind, from his limbs to his head to his chest. Weak. Light-headed. Confused. Sluggish. The raven looked up lazily at those ruby eyes that were still watching him. How unnerving, being this close to his future killer.
Escorting Harry onto the dance floor and ignoring everyone else, the older wizard tightened his hold on the youngest, forcefully guiding him in a dance with no music. As it was, Harry Potter couldn't properly engage in this bizarre scene, nor did he needed to since he's own body was responding accordingly to his enemy's every move. Every step. He can't think clearly. Every twirl. Like a puppet. Hesitantly, the younger one tried to follow on his own, mimicking the others movements. Why am I doing this? This words dissolved into nothingness as fast as it appeared. His need for control became unimportant.
"Look at me," he heard a clear voice inside his head. Everything else was so hard to listen to, muffled by a strange ringing in his head. "Look up, dear, look at my face," it demanded. He complied immediately. Bloody eyes stared back at him. Were they always this beautiful? "Avada green eyes. Everyone has lied to you," he commented with a smirk. Slowly, they stopped. The Dark Lord didn't let go. "You don't have your mother's eyes. You have deaths eyes." He whispered against the shell of his ear, dark breathing tickling him.
With a shudder, the raven took a step back. Voldemort let him go. The boy's breathing was harsh. Uneven. Shaky. He closed his eyes wishing this wasn't real.
Seconds ticked by, hushed voices reaching him, until he felt save enough to open his eyes again. Everything's back to normal. Looking from one side to the other, Harry released a relieved sigh.
From the other side of the room, red eyes followed his every move, every expression, drinking him in, while fading from his horcrux's memory, like in a dream. As if this never happened. But he'll never forget completely.
One two three. We'll see each other again, my dear.