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Harri stole one last look at her friends, a sad smile adorning her lips, before she let the tent’s flap fall.
Her hand went instinctively to her neck, her fingertips brushing against the locket and she shuddered.
She inhaled a deep breath and took a seat on the ground, looking at the dark, endless forest.
She was tired…
So tired, she couldn’t handle this burden anymore.
Her hand shook as she took off the Mokeskin pouch Hagrid gave her for her seventeenth birthday.
She brought out a small, old book and put the pouch back.
Gripping her wand with numb fingers, she whispered:’Engorgio’.
The book swelled and in its place was an old tome.
She stilled for a moment, before she started skipping through the pages.
It was all Dumbledore’s bloody fault.
Since he confessed the truth and told her about the prophecy, her interest in Divination was picked.
She recognized well that she didn’t have the sight; however that didn’t stop her from wanting to understand the phenomenon that linked her to Voldemort.
Why her?
Surely there was more capable witches and wizards out there who could be called his equal.
Her mind drifted to her second year, when she faced the man and not the monster, and she closed her eyes tightly, in a feeble attempt to forget.
There was something about him, something about Tom Marvolo Riddle that stirred something within her, something unfamiliar, something soul deep.
Her scar twitched and her heartbeat quickened.
She shook her head in denial, lying to herself again, and went back to her book.
While they were hiding in Grimmauld Place, before it was attacked, she started wandering around.
Her boredom encouraged her to explore her godfather’s home and try to understand the fanatic family he abhorred too much.
One trip led her to the Black library and she was thankful that only the owner of the house was allowed inside, otherwise it would’ve been impossible to get Hermione out.
She started looking through the exclusive collection of books, amassed by generations of Blacks before.
Her search led her to a very ancient tome called ‘Scire Futura’ written by the legendary Cassandra Trelawney.
She started reading the book keenly, trying to find some answers.
She had never known divination to be so alluring.
The spells, the explanations, the runes…everything was so simple and thoroughly detailed.
How was Sybill Trelawney related to this bright woman, was beyond her comprehension.
After many afternoons spent learning more about the art, she came upon a dark ritual that might help quench her thirst for an answer.
She planned to perform the ritual and steal a glimpse of her future, but Hermione’s eagle gaze and Ron’s hate for everything dark, made her hesitate.
The choice was taken from her hands as their abode was revealed to Death Eaters and they had to flee.
They started living in the tent, apparating from place to place in a frail effort to survive long enough to carry this bloody mission to fruition.
How could Dumbledore, and the entire Wizarding World, expect three inexperienced, wary teenagers to save them?
She was tired, so much so…
Since few days ago, she couldn’t sleep even for a minute.
Her nightmares became something else and the locket wouldn’t cease whispering to her, enticing her and warning her of what would happen if she carried on with this task.
So, she decided to do the ritual and cheat Fate like she cheated Death many times before.
Finally, she found the text she was looking for.
Putting the book down softly, she flicked her wand, starting a small fire and took out Arcturus Black’s dagger she always kept on her back pocket since Kreacher gave it to her.
She began drawing the runes on the damp ground and white hot flames started shimmering.
A blanket of scentless smoke covered the place and she took another look back before she sliced her palm, letting her blood feed the fire’s hunger.
She started chanting in a barely heard voice:’Sume sanguinem meum, matrem magicam gratis, et puer tuus videat quid futurum sit.’
Her wound glowed and she felt no pain as a strange dizziness stroke her.
Her lids dropped and she felt as if her soul was pulled out of her body.
As she opened her eyes, she gasped.
She was definitely in Hogwarts, yet….
The great castle and her ‘home’ was in ruins.
Shouts and screams made her gaze wander around and her heart stilled at the sight that greeted her.
She was in the middle of a battle.
Spells were flying at a crazy pace from both sides, bodies were lying around, still and forgotten.
Giants, acromantulas and werewolves were destroying the only place her heart recognized as ‘home’.
She heard an anguished howl and staggered backward…
Mrs Weasley was holding Fred’s lifeless body, the rest of the family members gathered around, on their knees, a devastated expression marring their ghastly faces.
Next to them, a strand of pink hair stole her attention and she let out a whimper as she recognized the two bodies lying side by side.
Remus, her last uncle and link to her father and bubbly, carefree Tonks.
No, No…
It was too much.
She made a dash to the smashed doors and ran without a particular destination.
Her quivering legs led her to the borders of the Forbidden Forest and her blurry eyes widened as she saw herself, holding the snitch in her hand with a shattered, desolate look on her face.
Her head swayed as three forms shimmered in front of ‘her’.
Her mother, her father and…Sirius.
She could literally hear the pain in her own voice as her future self begged them to keep her company till the last moment.
She followed behind, dreading what awaited them and wasn’t surprised as the ‘Killing Curse’ struck her other self true.
Her surroundings flickered and as she looked around, she was in King’s Cross.
Dumbledore was talking to her future self, regret and sorrow colouring his face, however what stole her attention was the bundle lying carelessly on the ground.
She took hesitant steps toward it and wobbled to her feet as she spotted the bawling, ugly baby.
A baby she recognized right away.
Her Horcrux.
Something tugged at her heartstrings as she looked at him.
This unsightly, poor thing that was mutilated beyond repair.
Her hands twitched with the need to hold him in her arms and comfort him and she succumbed to her ‘saving people curse’.
As soon as she snatched him from the floor, the baby stopped crying and peered at her with a wrinkled face that looked years beyond his age.
She almost dropped him as he opened his mouth and whispered in a scratchy voice:’’Save me.’’
‘’H..How? Who..What are..’’ She stuttered.
‘’Save me, I beg you. I can’t handle this pain anymore.’’ The baby wheezed, anguish filling his small voice.
Her locket started vibrating and she was startled, since she had forgotten about its presence.
She looked back at her future self and recognized the moment ‘she’ decided to go back and finish Voldemort off for good.
Voldemort, or what was long ago the extraordinary Tom Marvolo Riddle.
The baby tugged at her hair and she turned back.
A silent message passed between them and slowly, as if solidifying her resignation, she put her lips on his forehead, on the same spot where her scar resided.
As she drew back, she whispered:’’For you, for them.’’
As gentle as she could, she set him back down and followed her retreating future self.
The moment she stepped into the train, her eyelids opened and she gazed at the dying fire facing her.
She became aware of the wetness on her cheeks.
Hot tears streamed unbidden down her face and she felt too wary to wipe them.
Her watery eyes made everything blurry, yet she didn’t need to see anything.
Was it really worth it?
All these sacrifices, all this blood, all this pain?
She took a deep breath, moving like she was in a trance.
The locket stared twitching, sending soothing waves of seductive dark magic, calling to her and renewing its promises and she touched it again, whispering warily:’’Yes.’’
It stopped at once, a sense of fulfillment and serenity cocooning her.
She flicked her wand, removing all traces of the ritual she just did.
She extinguished the fire and shrunk the book, putting it back in the pouch.
She mumbled a ‘Silencing charm’ and then put her clock on.
Wrestling the need to bawl with the last shreds of her willpower, she went back inside.
Hermione and Ron were sleeping like babies, totally unaware of the storm she was confronting.
Their hands were inches away from each other and a little smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
They were so worn out; otherwise Hermione wouldn’t sleep so deeply.
Thank Merlin for small mercies.
She gazed at them, taking her fill even in she knew it wouldn’t be enough.
Despite their flaws and shortcomings, they were the best friends she had ever got.
She swore that she would give them the future they deserved, them and the rest of the Weasleys, Remus, Tonks, their unborn child and every innocent, poor soul in the Wizarding world she might not even know.
She fastened her old coat, took a deep breath and made sure not to take a look back.
As she neared the wards Hermione erected, she dismantled them carefully, before she passed through and then placed them back, reinforcing the protections in the process.
She trudged up the hill, making sure to get away from her friends’ location before she raised her head, looking at the starless sky.
She could swear that the locked was thrilling as she closed her eyes tightly and dived into her own mind.
She looked for the darkness lurking inside of her, thinking that it was unnoticed. The alluring magic answered her call, making itself known.
‘'Tom Marvolo Riddle, come to me.’'
She called over and over again, knowing very well that he heard her.
A moment later, an almost soundless pop made her open her eyes.
Her breath hitched as Voldemort faced her, an unreadable expression on his serpentine face.
“Potter.”
“Tom.’’ She answered, because even with what she planned to do, she refused to call him Voldemort.
Voldemort was the monster who killed her parents and terrorised thousands, Tom was…
Tom was Tom.
“Marvolo, then.’’
As she looked at him perplexed, he elaborated:’’You may call me Marvolo, it’s what I would’ve picked if the choice was mine.’’
She nodded tersely.
“So, why have you called for me? Did you finally understand that you can’t win and have decided to surrender? I can give you a quick death if you beg nicely, even though I’d prefer for your demise to be witnessed by many.’’
Harri sighed and gazed at his red eyes:’’I didn’t call you to finish me off. I’ll surrender yes, but on my terms. I’m tired of this cat and mouse game.’’
His eyes widened slightly, despite his efforts to hide it:’’You …”
“We both know that the prophecy is true. Your idiocy made it real. What if we both survived and you became more ‘tame’ with your blood games?’’
He tilted his head to the side, in a very snake like move, and she threw caution to the wind.
She took three small steps until she was standing so close she could feel his body heat branding her covered flesh.
She reached up, gripped his shoulders and tugged him to her.
His surprise was quickly snuffed out as she put her forehead against his, her scar buzzing with energy.
He brushed her hair over one shoulder, gathered it in his fist and hissed:“What are you playing at?”
Her heartbeat jacked as she breathed:’’I understand now. Take a look.”
He drew her gaze to his with his fingers, and for a moment, neither one of them said a thing. Their eyes were locked, their breath stilted, and she could even feel his heart hammering against her chest.
He wanted to know.
Badly.
Even if he must have suspected it for a while.
She waited patiently as he wandered in her mind, and recognized the moment he stilled.
He reared back with a wild look in his eyes as he stared at her in confusion.
Confusion because he clearly couldn’t understand what was happening between them either.
He was so close her heart was beating crazy fast. He really didn’t have any sense of boundaries at all.
And this kind of closeness… it frightened her.
His lipless mouth touched hers and she stood there unable to react, unable to think.
She felt as if she was lying on a cloud, basking in the sun’s warmth.
Her eyes snapped open, as soft, plump lips replaced the flesh that was caressing her.
She took a step back and he let her.
When she looked up, she seemed to forget all about everything.
This…
Tom Marvolo Riddle was standing in front of her, obviously older maybe in his mid thirties, but it was him nevertheless.
The angelic face that haunted her dreams for years and wouldn’t leave her in peace, was peering at her with a cryptic expression.
His ivory skin, his lean frame, his silky pitch black hair.
The gorgeous shell that hid what nightmares were made of was back.
Marvolo.
Her hungry gaze sought his and her heart missed a beat as she was drowned in the obsidian abyss that was his eyes.
They were the colour of a starless night.
Mysterious and alluring as he tried to pry out her deepest secrets.
Yet, he didn’t need to.
She was totally bare to him, body, soul and mind.
What else could she give?
What else could he want?
Desperate for somewhere else to look, her eyes darted to his lips.
It was the wrong choice.
She remembered what they felt like on her skin a moment ago, soft and sweet.
She decided that was what gave him a boyish sort of quality and ensured his enemies' demise.
The perfection of his smile.
It was a fatal mistake that she couldn’t help but commit.
As if he could sense her thoughts, Marvolo’s nostrils flared and his eyes swirled with a dangerous prism of brown and red.
“I’ll go with you, but I want assurances.” She started, inserting some steel into her voice, even if she knew beforehand that she was an open book for him, “My friends, the rest of my family and the...innocents. I don’t care if you want to rule and conquer; all I ask is that you stop the bloodshed. I can’t..’’
He rubbed his elegant finger over her lips, halting her words and she bit the inside of her mouth to stifle her whimper.
Her breaths came fast as he grabbed her face gently, yet possessively between his hands.
He leaned forward and put a devastating kiss on her scar, making her shudder.
His eyes were feral as he glanced at her, before he leaned again and smashed their lips together; destroying every hope she had of ever escaping him.
She grasped the front of his fine robes as his tongue invaded her mouth, trying to push him away and pull him closer at once.
Finally, all fight left her and she succumbed totally to him.
Her beautiful shame.
Her sin, her destiny and her doom.
When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he tilted his head back, dark eyes sparkling with satisfaction.
She gasped as his hand caressed her neck, before it went inside the collar of her coat, retrieving the locket and bringing it out.
His thumb brushed her heated, wet cheek as he smirked:’’Welcome back, my soul.”
───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───
Marvolo -as he preferred to be called in secret- or Voldemort -as the world knew him- cringed as he examined his skeletal hands.
He hated everything about this hideous body that cloaked his soul, what remained of it anyway.
He was gruesome and he knew it, yet you couldn’t expect to pick a flower from barren soil.
His grandfather was a monster and abused his children, destroyed their family’s name and spent his life in poverty and squalor.
Morfin was a bigoted murderer who had no qualms about ripping muggles’ throats.
His mother was a sick bitch who trapped his father trough potions and lies and left him alone to face this harsh, unforgiving world.
Tom Riddle Sr was a pitiless bastard who denied his flesh and blood the smallest amount of compassion.
How could anyone expect the fruit of this rotten tree be something else was beyond him.
Why would the world blame him while it wasn’t his fault?
He sighed, his fingers caressing Nagini’s cold scales as he contemplated his life.
This war went longer than what he predicted and he had no choice but to carry on and win.
His goals, his choices were the only thing he solely owned and he wouldn’t let a slip of a girl beat him.
The girl...
Something about her fascinated him since their second encounter, when he was a wandering wrath trying to regain his body at all costs.
He was ‘crazier’ then, the haze too much for him to think clearly but he could remember now.
In her second year, he faced her again as Tom, the strongest horcrux he had ever made and his intrigue became stronger.
As she destroyed his diary, the shard went back to the main soul and he became stronger and ‘saner’.
The diary’s memories were transferred to him and he couldn’t put his finger on the strange thing in the girl that attracted him.
She was nothing, a little girl who followed Dumbledore like a docile lamb.
Yet, the feel of her magic was so potent and heady, like something he missed so much but couldn’t remember, no matter how hard he tried.
To his shame, she enthralled him, the parseltongue and the darkness lurking behind her innocent eyes.
But, he had bigger plans than an annoying girl who wouldn’t leave his thoughts.
After the ritual, the saturated dark magic blinded him and he directed his excitement and belligerence at the only one who could take whatever he had to give and return it back.
He wasn’t mistaken.
Imagine his surprise when it was revealed that their wands were twins.
He spent the summer looking for answers and almost hexed himself when he remembered the prophecy.
The start and the end of all his troubles.
He started meditating at a mad pace, diving into the darkest recesses of his mind, looking for the tiniest bits of information that he might have skipped before and he found it.
A small, harmless link that connected him to her.
'How, why and when' were questions he had to answer, so as his useless death eaters failed to retrieve the prophecy, he started sending her dreams and fake visions trying to lure her to his trap.
And he succeeded.
He followed her there, hellbent on kidnapping the irksome girl and sating his hunger for information.
Sadly, he was forced to face the man he hated above all.
Potter was hiding like a little kitten and he couldn’t let the golden opportunity slip through his fingers.
Less was better than nothing, so he possessed her in a desperate attempt to see with his own eyes the explanation.
He wished he didn’t but he couldn’t help but be thankful for what he did.
It was so warm and flawless inside, something he missed his whole life.
How could this girl, scarred and betrayed since forever retain such a pure soul?
As he was wandering around, something dark attacked him and he was thrown out.
His frustration only grew as he returned home and he decided that he had to have her no matter the cost.
He started sending her dreams and visions, nothing big, just little ideas that might veer her from the path she was following.
A last resort to find her and examine closely the dark thing protecting her.
Because he knew in his heart that it belonged to him.
Imagine his surprise when he received her summons.
As he saw her face, he knew that she was about to surrender.
Yet wasn’t it just a matter of time before she did anyway?
How could anyone expect a seventeen year old inexperienced witch to beat HIM; the wizard who roamed this earth experiencing beyond any man's wildest dreams and cheated Death himself?
As he got closer, he felt the tug at his core.
The sense of belonging was so strong that he barely managed to stand straight on his feet.
He tried to mask his confusion with empty threats, but the shadow lurking behind her emerald green eyes mocked him.
As she hugged him, his first real one, her eyes turned red before they went back to their original colour.
Finally…
His girl, his horcrux, his soul.
The horcrux sighed with happiness as it was reunited with the main soul piece and from the potent dark magic surrounding them, he knew that there was another one near.
The locket.
He knew it, he had always known yet he couldn’t remember.
His soul sang as it welcomed her long lost treasure.
The only shard that managed to stay pure, wrapped in the goodness that was Harriet Potter.
It was the sole cure to his butchered soul.
He rejoiced in the feeling of warmth enveloping him, as if he was greeted back home after being lost for eternity.
Without thinking he kissed her, just a peck on the lips, wanting to get closer still.
He was thrown into the heart of a volcano; everything was burnt to ashes so it would rise again from dust, like a phoenix.
The seventh shard caressed his wounded soul and repaired the broken pieces.
He felt human since the first time he could remember, and as she gasped and he looked into her eyes, he saw his reflection.
He was no longer Tom Marvolo Riddle but he wasn’t Voldemort either.
He was himself, Marvolo.
He knew what she was about to ask because, even though he had always known what people would say thanks to his great intellect and illustrious legilimency, he didn’t need words nor glimpses into her mind to hear her.
He was her and she was him.
Each a part of the other, two faces of the same coin.
So, he gave her his silent pledge because nothing was too much for her, the keeper of his soul.
✧✿✿✿✧
Marvolo felt her stiff form as he led her to the ball room.
He wouldn’t call it the throne room again because he didn’t need ceremonial, fancy chairs to rule.
He was a king.
With his queen by his side, he was the king even without a crown.
The Death Eaters gathered around bowed their heads and he could smell their curiosity.
Some dared to raise their heads and their eyes almost fell from their sockets as they looked at him.
His new, whole self.
He didn’t need a mask anymore, he could gaze in the mirror now.
Some, gaped as they noticed the woman in his arm and he couldn’t blame them.
She kept her hood low, but no one would mistake her for anything else but his woman, his equal, the one destined to walk by his side.
Nagini left his side and slithered toward Harri’s chair, waiting for her sister to give her some warmth.
As they stood in front of their seats, the Death Eaters raised their heads, a perplexed look marring their faces despite their vain attempts to hide their thoughts.
He took a step back, standing behind her.
Feeling her shivers, he put a hand on her shoulder, the repaired Gaunt ring gleaming in his finger as he sent her waves of comforting magic.
She exhaled and he took her hood down, ignoring the gasps and whimpers.
Looking sternly into the eyes of every witch and wizard present, he said in a proud voice:’’Everyone, This Is Your Queen.”