Chapter 60

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Summary: Madness is not a state of mind. Madness is a place. What happens when Harry stumbles into it and gets trapped there? A Harry Potter version of Alice in Wonderland but a thousand shades darker.

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Harry knew…he knew he was setting himself up for a long, hard fall and no one was going to catch him. He should back out now…he should just get up before this went too far. Where the hell was that inner voice now when he needed it? Damn it…Damn everything…The way Voldemort was looking at him made the fall look so tempting, consequences be damned.

Voldemort's long fingers were fiddling with the buttons of his waistcoat while his other hand stroked his hair. Harry could tell that Voldemort wanted to kiss him. He decided to give him some incentive and licked his lips invitingly. Voldemort's gaze darkened further with lust and he had just bent over to kiss his lips when Harry turned his head at the last moment and Voldemort's lips landed on his cheek. Harry laughed and Voldemort's grip tightened on his hair. Rabastan was staring at him…them…with an expression that resembled pure awe, but Nott and Avery looked utterly flabbergasted,

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, boys, I know you were waiting for your beloved Master to kiss me senseless but that's not going to happen and this is the part where you leave us."

Voldemort was trailing kisses down his cheek and every brush of those soft lips against his skin made heat coil inside Harry's stomach. Rabastan, Avery and Nott rose to their feet, bowed…not that Voldemort was paying them attention now…and left. Once they were gone, Voldemort arm tightened around his waist and his lips pressed against Harry's neck. Harry instantly placed his hands on Voldemort's chest and shoved him back playfully,

"Oh no, you don't!"

Voldemort raised his head and smirked devilishly,

"I thought you thoroughly enjoyed it last time."

Harry removed one of his hands from Voldemort's chest and began tracing his lips with his gloved finger,

"I'm not yours. You can't mark me."

Voldemort held Harry's hand and stopped him,

"I can make you mine."

Harry leaned back and grinned,

"We've already had this conversation."

Voldemort sighed and pressed a kiss to the inside of Harry's wrist,

"You wished to tell me something?"

Harry didn't pull his wrist away from Voldemort. The gesture was too tender and Harry enjoyed how good it felt,

"Yeah, I did before you started ignoring me and ruined my mood."

Voldemort released his wrist and smirked,

"It is pleasing to know that it affects you. I should employ that tactic more often."

Harry laughed and straightened up again,

"Try ignoring me again, Lover. I will make you sorely regret it."

Voldemort brushed his knuckles against his cheek,

"I do not doubt that, my little Villain."

Harry scoffed,

"There is nothing little about me."

Voldemort's released his hold on his waist and his hand came to rest on his thigh,

"Oh, I wholeheartedly agree with that."

Harry slapped his hand away,

"Your death eaters should see what a creepy old pervert their master is."

Voldemort yanked him up and covered Harry's mouth with his in a hungry kiss. As their lips crushed together, he felt like he was walking on air. It was magic…pure magic. The way their lips connected. Voldemort mouth was so warm, the caress of his lips softer than Harry remembered and he opened his mouth with a low moan. Their tongues clashed, battling it out for dominance. Voldemort started stroking the nape of Harry's neck softly and Harry melted…Voldemort's tongue claimed his mouth dominated it and all Harry could do was moan and revel in it. He wrapped his arms around Voldemort's neck again and pulled himself closer to him as much as he physically could. Voldemort stroked the ends of his hair as he kissed him to oblivion. When they parted for breath, Voldemort laughed softly,

"It seems like you enjoyed how the creepy old pervert just kissed you."

Harry was still catching his breath. He felt hot…way too hot. He traced his moist, swollen lips with his tongue and felt Voldemort's erection rubbing against his thigh. His own tight jeans felt tighter. This was getting out of hand. Slowly, he rubbed his thigh against Voldemort's erection and Voldemort's laughter died down and he bit his lip to hold back a groan,

"The creepy old pervert enjoyed it more than me."

Voldemort's stared pointedly at the visible bulge in Harry's jeans and bit out,

"More than you?"

Harry pulled himself to his feet and tried to think of anything other than Voldemort for a minute to get rid of it. It was nearly impossible when Voldemort was sitting inches away from him and the sexual tension between them was crackling. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned back on it. Voldemort rose to his feet and his crimson eyes were smouldering with lust and desire like twin embers. He rested a finger on Harry's throat and began tracing it down…moving over his chest, his stomach and coming to rest over a spot right above the button of his jeans,

"Are you aware of what I am currently thinking, Harry?"

Harry smirked and nodded,

"You're thinking about ripping apart my clothes and taking me right here on this table."

Voldemort pressed down on that spot with his finger and Harry felt something like lightening shoot through his system. Oh, he wanted it…he wanted it so bad…Voldemort's naked skin against his, his hands and mouth all over his body…he wanted him inside himself. Harry's throat felt too dry and his voice sounded scratchy when he spoke,

"Keep thinking, Lover. But that's not going to happen."

Voldemort pushed him back and Harry's elbows gave out and his torso was instantly flat on the table with his arms trapped underneath him. Voldemort nudged his ankles apart, spreading his legs and came to stand between them, he leaned over him until his chest was rested on his and his face was hovering inches above his. They were so close that they were breathing in each other and Harry could practically count Voldemort's eyelashes. Voldemort's breath ghosted over his lips and Harry's chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm with Voldemort's. He knew he should move but his entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming desire that burned deep in his bones, combined with eccentric panic, and lust.

"You are the personification of pure, sinful temptation, Harry."

Harry met Voldemort's crimson gaze that was heavy with want, adoration and wonder,

"Why do I find it so difficult to resist you? Just one glance at you shatters my self-restraint into tiny splinters."

Harry wanted to turn away his gaze but Voldemort's hands came to rest on either side of his head, trapping it effectively. Voldemort laughed,

"If this is the power that was mentioned in the prophecy then I am most certainly vanquished."

Harry held Voldemort's gaze and spoke,

"It's not true. The prophecy isn't true."

Voldemort cupped his cheek,

"And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. You shall most certainly be the death of me, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes,

"You'll live, Lover. You'll live because I won't survive."

Voldemort removed his hand from his cheek,

"Open your eyes."

Harry opened them and met Voldemort's gaze. He grinned, raised his head and pressed a kiss to Voldemort's chin,

"I mean look at me, Lover. I have a knack for messing with people and before long one of your death eaters or Nicholai or Dumbledore or someone else from the order or maybe even you will kill me. I've got way too many people after my blood and it's only a matter of time before they catch up with me and…"

Voldemort clamped a hand down over his mouth and growled out,

"No one shall hurt you…You are not going to die…I will not allow it."

Harry laughed despite the ache he was starting to feel in his heart and cooed when Voldemort removed his hand from his mouth.

"Awww…Has someone gotten a little too attached?"

Voldemort caressed his cheek but made no move to reply. So, Harry spoke instead,

"This is not going to last forever, Lover."

Voldemort bent down and buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck,


Harry was distantly aware of the fact that his arms were nearly asleep but that didn't matter because his heart was currently bursting with pain in his chest. He was fighting off tears,

"Us. You and I…What we have between us…it's not going to last…I'm going to leave, Lover."

Voldemort kept caressing his cheek but his face was hidden from view now and Harry could only stare up at the ceiling,

"You always talk about leaving, Harry. You have never mentioned why you must leave and where you need to go. I could take you there. I could lay the world at your feet. Just say the words."

A hollow chuckle left his lips,

"The valley of death is my destination. I would love for you to come with me but you're not too fond of death."

Harry heard how Voldemort was inhaling him in and felt how he was pressing feather light kisses to his neck and shoulder. Voldemort remained silent for a while and then spoke,

"I shall gladly accompany you, Harry. I would easily give up all my tomorrows just to be there with you...just to have you…Immortality…all this power…all this wealth does not mean anything if I cannot have what I want."

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to get a grip on himself. Trying to put the dam back together. Something about the way Voldemort had said those words told Harry that he meant them…He meant it…Why would Voldemort say something like that? Why was he saying things like that and torturing him? Was he even aware of the pain Harry was experiencing now all because of his words. The voice in his head kept chanting that one word over and over again but Harry refused to listen to it…refused to believe it… He had to correct this before Voldemort thought he hadn't been joking. He spoke in a low voice,

"Who knew that The Dark Lord would turn out to be such a hopeless romantic? I have actual tears in my eyes, Lover."

Voldemort raised his head and Harry fixed a grin on his face. Voldemort's crimson eyes were warm and beautiful and he wiped away the tears from Harry's cheeks,

"Perhaps you need to get a hold of your fantasies of death, Mr. Potter."

Harry laughed and pushed Voldemort off him,

"I don't have fantasies of death."

Voldemort stepped back and Harry stood up straight. His arms breathed out a sigh of relief at being freed and he stretched them and massaged them. Voldemort did a perfect imitation of his voice,

"The valley of death is my destination."

Harry felt the weight of sorrow vanish into thin air and he giggled uncontrollably. The mood felt lighter between them again and Harry was so grateful for it,

"First off, you suck at imitations. Don't do them again…ever. Secondly, I don't sound like that. And thirdly, you're right. That does seem a little melodramatic."

Voldemort's imitation kept echoing in his mind and he couldn't stop laughing. He controlled himself, looked up at Voldemort and then slipped back into laughter,

"I'm always going to hear that whenever I look at you and start laughing like an idiot. I think you'll have to obliviate me,"

Voldemort stepped closer to him and the look in his eyes made Harry stop laughing,

"You are absolutely stunning."

Harry was glad…so glad that the crisis was averted. He pecked Voldemort on the cheek,

"I came here to tell you something."

Voldemort's eyes lit up with intrigue and he wrapped an arm around Harry's waist,

"Tell me."

Harry had shared his biggest secret with him so now this news seemed nothing in comparison…not anymore. He brought his gloved left hand up to his lips and gripped the material of the silk glove firmly between his teeth. He pulled the glove off using his teeth and Voldemort watched the act with undisguised mesmerisation. Harry took the glove from his teeth in his other hand and spoke,

"Pinch me, Lover."

Voldemort's mesmerized expression turned into confusion and Harry eyed his hand,

"Pinch my palm."

Voldemort took his hand carefully with the palm facing upwards and pinched him. Harry closed his eyes. He wasn't sure it would happen again but the way Voldemort pulled him into a tight embrace proved that it had,

"Harry, you are recovering so well. A celebration is certainly in order."

Voldemort pressed a kiss to the top of his head and asked,

"You mentioned to the Goblins that you were occupied tonight."

Harry pulled away from him and raised an eyebrow,

"Why are you asking?"

Voldemort sighed and rubbed his hands over his face,

"I do not wish to have a repeat of what happened last time. Will you be leaving the Manor?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest but didn't reply,

"I shall take your silence as a yes. Will you be coming back?"

Harry turned his back to him,

"If I were planning to leave for good I wouldn't have given away my plans. Honestly, you act so stupid sometimes. It's hard to believe you're the fearsome Dark Lord."

Voldemort gripped his arm and spun him around,

"You are the one acting stupid. You are perfectly aware of what will happen if Dumbledore gets his hands on you again. You are only beginning to recover from your last encounter with him."

Harry yanked away from his grip,

"If you don't want me to go out then chain me up. Otherwise…I'm bored of that bloody Manor and your pureblood death eaters that think they're better than the rest of the world, I'm going out tonight and you'd better not follow me or have me followed."

For a moment, Harry thought Voldemort was going to chain him up but he didn't do anything and spoke,

"What do you intend to do if Dumbledore takes you again?"

Harry walked to the door and stopped with his hand on the knob,

"I intend to teach him what happens when he messes with a horse that can't be broken."

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