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Tom’s heart started to accelerate at what he saw upon entering his home: the lights were out. He distinctly remembered not distinguishing the various candles littering his small apartment in Knockturn Alley. Indeed, his occlumency proved him correct, because he had literally thought about leaving them burning since he won’t be gone for long and the place being warded against fire. This could only mean one thing.
Someone was inside his apartment.
His thoughts immediately went to the Horcrux he had hid inside the wall of his bedroom, his third ticket to immortality: the valuable artefact of Helga Hufflepuff.
With his quick and superior reflexes, he cast several high-level protection charms around himself. Only after he was sure about his safety did he cast a lumos, and very nearly dropped his wand at who was sitting in his armchair–the only one his dingy apartment had.
It–the person launching on the worn leather like royalty, legs crossed and chin resting on a fist…it was him.
Tom gaped at himself, at this nonchalant copy of him. And Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, was not someone that gaped like some common twit!
“I’d like to say I would never look that stupid…” his clone began, voice dripping in condensation. “But here you are.”
Tom, the original, was now thoroughly offended. How dare he! Just as he was about to give a witty comeback–he was a master at those–his other self stood up. Long legs uncrossed and Tom watched as his copy elegantly rose, like a king from a throne. He remembered practicing this exact motion to impress his followers, so he was not moved at all. Chin raised and teeth gritted, he faced the slowly advancing version of himself. The slow, predatory walk would have made every ordinary, lower wizard shake in fright.
Tom Riddle was not prey, not to any wizard or witch and especially not to his own bloody self. Tall and proud he faced his smirking self, their gazes locked in an intense staring match.
“You know what I have decided?” The fake asked dramatically. Tom did not give him the satisfaction of a reaction, not even the rise of one of his perfect eyebrows.
That didn’t deter the wizard, however.
“Being a prisoner inside an object is awful, something you wouldn’t know.” He continued, narrowing his eyes at Tom. Tom’s eyes widened in sudden realisation.
“Yes,” the copy spat, voice cold. “I am the piece of soul you so carelessly put inside Helga Hufflepuff’s famous Cup.”
A million thoughts about this impossibility flitted through Tom’s mind. His first response to anything in life was greed, and this situation was no exception. He could build an army of himself! He himself was already far superior to any normal wizard, but more of him? His plans of world domination shifted in his mind’s eyes, becoming even grander than they had been before.
His Horcrux smirked, maliciousness a scarlet spark burning in his brown eyes. “Ah, I know exactly what you are thinking, dear me.” He stepped closer to Tom and lifted his hand to stroke Tom’s cheek softly with the back of it. A shiver went down Tom’s back. They were so close, and considering he and his Horcrux were the same height, staring directly into each other’s eyes. It was electrifying, every hair on his perfectly formed body stood on end. The sizzling of their combined magic built alongside the tension in the air around them.
Cup leaned even closer, making Tom cross-eyed, to lean towards Tom’s ear. Tom could feel the warm breath of him, and as the other wizard kissed beneath it, a current of heat spread through his lower stomach, his heartbeat speeding up.
Was he…no, he couldn’t be attracted to himself, could he? That was–
A low chuckle interrupted his inner panic. “Oh Tom, looks like you will be enjoying what I have planned for you after all. As undeserving of it as you are.” The Horcrux clicked his tongue at the last part. Tom, however, was not understanding what his other self meant by that. His mind was running more sluggish than usual; he had never felt like this before. To his utter horror, he felt himself harden at the Horcrux’s proximity.
An embarrassing yelp escaped him, as his crotch was roughly grabbed. The Horcrux kneaded it in contemplation. “So reactive,” he purred. “You know what I have decided?” He repeated the question, yet Tom had still found no answer, finding himself caring less and less.
The mocking smirk he could feel against his skin told him that his doppelgänger knew exactly what he was thinking. “You,” he breathed against Tom’s hot skin. “Will be mine.” And Merlin be damned, Tom couldn’t believe he actually liked the sound of that. He was not something to be owned, not by anyone, but his weakening knees were of a different opinion.
“It will be I who conquers the world, and you will be kneeling beneath me, following every one of my commands.” He growled, and met Tom’s gaze again, eyes blazing. “You dared to doom me to a life of cold and endless misery; now you will be the one suffering.” The Horcrux vowed. The last part, he whispered with derision ringing clear in his voice. “Though it looks like you might enjoy it. Maybe we aren’t the same after all.”