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Voldemort retook his seat and Harry closed his eyes. He hated it when Voldemort was in his interrogative mood. Why couldn't the man just leave it alone? He was itching for a shower. The blood caking his back was really ticking him off,
"Did you return to Dumbledore?"
Harry kept his eyes closed and his face as expressionless as possible. Why was that question so important to him?
Voldemort couldn't help but smirk. That was lie number one. He had expected this from Harry. He was glad he had his eyes closed.
"Are you a spy?"
He observed Harry's gloved hands clench into fists,
Harry opened his eyes and Voldemort saw his emerald orbs burning with rage,
"Don't you ever accuse me of that again."
Harry held Voldemort's gaze just to convey how serious he was about it. He could bear anything but he wasn't going to bear this bloody accusation.
The heat in Harry's eyes made Voldemort doubt himself. He leaned back in his seat and spoke,
"All your actions point to it. It seems like a very logical explanation."
Harry broke the eye contact and shook his head. He sighed heavily and spoke,
"You're hopeless. Fine. I'm a spy. Now that we've established that. Can we move on?"
Voldemort kept his gaze fixated on Harry. He had expected this from Harry. Avoidance was second nature to him and that was exactly what he was doing right now. He was avoiding telling the truth.
Harry was hating where this was going. Why was Voldemort so determined on the spy angle? He couldn't understand what had made him believe that,
"You said all my actions point to me being a spy. Tell me."
Voldemort rubbed his chin and regarded Harry,
"We have already established that you are a spy. There is no point in discussing it any further."
Harry practically growled,
"I deserve to know what made you establish that."
Voldemort crossed his arms over his chest and smiled smugly,
"Now you know what it feels like when you do not tell me everything I wish to know."
Harry looked away and spoke,
"This conversation is over."
Voldemort chuckled darkly and rose to his feet. Harry stared at something on the opposite wall but Voldemort could tell by the firm setting of his jaw, and the tension in his shoulders that Harry would leave if he was pushed any further. Not that he would allow it but right now he needed Harry to believe that he was secure. He wanted Harry to make a mistake and prove his suspicions correct. This time he wasn't going to force the truth out of him. This time he was going to be patient and wait for the truth to come out.
That bastard. Who did he think he was? Harry couldn't believe he had gotten himself tortured for him. The man that was so determined to believe that he was a spy and nothing but disloyal. Harry wanted to tell him the truth just to wipe that smug expression off his bloody face. But, no, he wouldn't stoop that low. He had only done that so that he could settle the debt. So that he could wipe away that pained look on Voldemort's face from his mind. So that he could somehow repay him for the pain he had caused him with his words,
"What are your plans, Harry?"
Harry started. It seemed he had been lost in some thoughts of his own,
"Plans? You mean other than spying on you some more?"
Voldemort picked up a file from the desk and spoke,
"Why didn't you give my post to Bella? She must have been dying to have it."
Voldemort flicked through the papers in the file, looked up and regarded Harry,
"You did not resign. I knew you would return."
Harry instantly opened his mouth to protest,
He stopped himself when he remembered that Rabastan had taken his resignation letter. Voldemort was looking at him expectantly,
"You were about to say something."
Harry shook his head and schooled his expressions,
"Nothing. It's nothing that concerns you."
Voldemort resisted the urge to grab Harry and just torture the truth out of him. He cursed whatever thought had made Harry stop. He was testing the boundaries of his patience. Harry was a challenge. Everything around him had felt too easy, too dreary when Harry had been gone. It was good to have him back,
"You can resume your job. Unless you wish to stay here and do mine."
Harry's smirk reappeared and he made himself comfortable in the chair,
"I like your chair and your desk. Maybe we should switch offices."
Voldemort stalked closer to Harry and Harry's smirk widened,
"Perhaps we can share. You can sit in my lap. I am sure you will find it more comfortable."
Harry swung his legs off the desk and rose to his feet steadily. He rested his hand on Voldemort's cheek. His heart lurched painfully in his chest when he couldn't feel him. He craved it. Craved to feel Voldemort's skin under his fingers. He tried not to let the pain show in his eyes. Tried not to let his longing display itself and spoke out,
"You haven't stopped fantasizing about me."
Harry was about to pull away his hand when Voldemort rested his hand on top of his and Harry felt his heart bleed. He couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel Voldemort's touch on his hand at all. He needed it desperately. Harry shook away the thoughts. He didn't need it. This was good. Harry attempted to pull away his hand but Voldemort refused to let it go,
"Did you think about it, Harry?"
Harry looked up and met Voldemort's crimson gaze. There was hope there,
"Think about what?"
Voldemort took Harry's hand in his and brought it close to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the gloved surface and whispered gently,
"Did you think about what you want, Harry?"
Harry's gaze was fixed on Voldemort's lips against his gloved hand. It was agonizing. Voldemort's touch, his kiss had used to make sparks fly throughout his body. They had made him soar but today he could only watch helplessly as they made him feel hollow and numb,
"Yes, I thought about it."
Voldemort pressed another kiss,
"And what do you want, Harry?"
Everything inside Harry was screaming. This was way worse than Dumbledore had done to him. It was way worse than kind of physical or emotional pain. The longing was killing him. The desire was burning him alive but he couldn't say anything. He couldn't give it away. Harry's mind went back to the time when he had thought he would die from the whipping. His one and only regret had been the words he had said to Voldemort. He had wanted to take them away. Now…Now was the perfect time to take them away,
"You have something that belongs to me."
Voldemort looked puzzled. Harry held his gaze,
"My words. The words I said to you that day. I want them back."
Voldemort's frown deepened and Harry leaned forward,
"I want them back. Give them back, you Bastard."
Voldemort grip tightened on Harry's hand and he drew closer to him. Harry could feel his warm breath ghosting over his lips and he knew Voldemort could feel the same. The hope in Voldemort's eye shone brighter and Harry felt like a monster then,
"Why do you want them back?"
Harry kept his gaze fixed on Voldemort's and spoke as scornfully as possible,
"Because I don't want you to have anything that belongs to me."
Harry saw the hope shatter in Voldemort's eyes. He practically heard it. But Voldemort's hope wasn't the only thing that had shattered. Harry felt his heart shatter with it. A moment passed in which neither Harry nor Voldemort breathed. Finally, Voldemort parted his lips and spoke,
"Take them then."
Voldemort's voice was barely above a whisper. Harry bridged the few inches gap between them quickly and claimed Voldemort's lips. Harry wasn't prepared for the maelstrom of sensations that hit him all at once. His lips felt on fire, Warmth spread throughout his entire body and every nerve in his body danced with joy at the reunion. He was addicted. Harry felt like he couldn't bear not to be with Voldemort. He felt like he wouldn't be able to breathe without him. The kiss was his salvation and his torment. He was certain that he would die with the memory of this kiss on his lips. Harry let his other arm wrap around Voldemort's waist and deepened the kiss. He felt Voldemort's hand on his shoulder, steadying him. At that moment, he knew that if he lost Voldemort he would lose himself. He was the half that made him whole.
When Harry finally pulled back, he realized that his cheeks were wet with tears. He ducked his head instantly so that Voldemort wouldn't see them. He couldn't look up at Voldemort and meet his gaze because he knew what he would find. He turned his back to him and asked,
"Can you do me a favour?"
Voldemort didn't reply. Harry didn't expect him to. Suddenly he felt Voldemort's fingers wrap around his throat. He stood still. If Voldemort wanted to kill him then he wasn't going to struggle. He wasn't going to fight it. After what he had just done, he deserved to die. But Voldemort's fingers didn't tighten around his throat. They just held him,
"What more do you want, Harry?"
Harry closed his eyes tightly and spoke,
"Hate me. I want you to hate me."
Voldemort's fingers vanished from around his neck and Harry gasped when he felt Voldemort's warm lips replace them. He felt rather than heard Voldemort murmur against his skin,
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