All the Time in the World

Watching Harry's open mouth widen into a childlike smile was not on Voldemort's list of long-term goals when he beckoned his mortal enemy into the forest to die. Yet in the time after Voldemort's victory he finds that few goals take precedence over such causes like making Harry smile.

Yes, Voldemort had won the battle of Hogwarts, taken over the ministry and acquired the power he so craved; but Harry Potter, ever the doer of the impossible wins the war though the power of love Voldemort knew not.

Sometimes, if she listens very carefully, Luna Lovegood can hear the creatures of fates' mischievous laughter on the wind.

Voldemort's subjects think that He keeps Harry around instead of just putting the poor thing out of it's misery as a sick sort of symbol of His victory. Maybe it's to laud over what remains of Voldemort's dissenters; or perhaps to remind the masses that the Wizarding World has entered Voldemort's era and Harry Potter will offer no deliverance.

Not that anyone needs delivering. Voldemort really has been a merciful Lord, much to the disbelieving shock of everyone, least of all the pardoned dregs of the Order and their allies. Despite the wild speculations of the tabloids about strategic power plays and the British wizarding community's dwindling gene-pool, the truth is that Voldemort hopes that maybe, if He creates Harry's ideal world, Harry will want to be present in it.

Thanks to Harry, Voldemort learns to find satisfaction in the power gained through methods alternative to fear.

Also thanks to Harry, Voldemort learns a dissatisfaction of the heart. Of the soul. He never imagined himself missing the object of His destruction.

Except Harry was never really responsible for Voldemort's destruction, was he? No, Voldemort alone is responsible for dragging Harry and Himself into their predetermined game of cat and mouse.

It was Voldemort who sicced the onus of His destruction onto Harry, who rose flaming like a great Phoenix out of Voldemort's ashes that terrible Halloween night to pick up Voldemort's gauntlet.

Harry has none of his fiery passion now. Voldemort never thought He would miss it.

Voldemort initially thought to assuage the gaping pit that is his soul through the tried and true method of an awesome fit of rage, which visibly distressed Harry, ever at Voldemort's side. It was the first display of consciousness from Harry since The Forest, and it was Voldemort's first confirmation that Harry might not be totally gone. Voldemort, newly armed with the knowledge that Harry could still feel something, endeavored to only evoke positive reactions from His precious soul from that point onward.

In his quest to make Harry happy, Voldemort tried socializing Harry with his closest friends. Ginevra Weasley's spitting rage towards Voldemort and stuttered tears towards Harry garnered no reaction, good nor bad from Harry. Neither did Ron Weasley's droning monologues at Harry stir any signs of life or recognition in Harry's eyes. None got a reaction until Hermione Granger presented Harry with music one late, sunny afternoon.

Harry sat as golden honey sun rays filtered in through the gently swaying gauzy curtains and danced across his form. Voldemort's mind removed Hermione from the memory entirely as he focused on the first smile Harry had ever graced Him with.

Lord Voldemort could now say he has witnessed and understood beauty. He doesn't understand the emotions He feels, just as a toddler struggles to comprehend their first experiences with a complex emotion.

On the rare occasions where Voldemort found himself in need of rest following the music revelation, He would wake up cocooned in the impression of Harry's embrace. Dreams of Harry keep Voldemort warm; drifting along under the surface tension of consciousness, before being thrust back into frigid reality.

Voldemort frequently revisits those brief moments of Harry Harry His wonderful brilliant soul Harry for days after each rest.

Voldemort's followers watched one evening as He plugged a pair of chunky headphones into the CD player sitting at the head of the Malfoys' grand dining table. Such a perverse muggle contraption was an unprecedented sight and would have been unthinkable before The Forest. None of the gathered Death Eaters offer comment; most don't even know what they're looking at.

The Death Eaters watch a truly incongruent expression of soft fondness pass over their Lord's face as He slips the headphones over Harry's ears. As their Lord magics away the drool from Harry's chin.

Harry's eyes gain a rare light and he smiles and hums discordantly along to the tune.

Everything in the room that's not Harry freezes as the first noises Harry has made since before diffuse through the room.

Meeting agenda forgotten, Voldemort dismisses the room to sit and hum along with Harry until Harry tires and falls asleep with hints of his earlier smile still ghosting across his face. Harry looks peaceful. Voldemort sits with silent tears.

Voldemort doesn't know how he could ever properly repay Hermione. A wry smile twists Voldemort's face at that thought. The Dark Lord indebted to a muggleborn.

He wishes Harry had let it go.

Perhaps then Harry would have lived on peacefully in the aftermath of Voldemort. Or Harry could have chosen to move move on and find peace in another place. Either direction would be better than the nowhere Harry apparently ended up.

His precious boy, in all of his stubborn glory, had refused to abandon that little hitchhiking shard of Voldemort's soul fused into Harry's own at the end of the line. As a result Harry, Master of Death, never fully left or returned from Voldemort's killing curse. This much Voldemort could glean from the storage his precious soul's mind.

With the gift of time, maintained by Harry's sacrifice born from a heart filled with love, Voldemort would find His precious soul and bring him home. And both would know love.