To Kill You With a Kiss

Chapter14

Harry slept in Tom's arms until morning. As he slept, he dreamed of Voldemort. But he no longer dreamed of the terrifying Voldemort he knew so well from his nightmares, the familiar figure whose inhuman features had hovered, pale and startling, in his nightly dreams for years. Now his dreams were haunted by a more shadowy Dark Lord he didn't know, a formless Voldemort of the future, faceless and cloaked in utter darkness. Harry felt his mind reach out for this unknown Voldemort. Your face. Show me your face. Are your eyes still gleaming scarlet under your hood, or is your gaze silver, like Tom's? But the immaterial figure of the Dark Lord was beyond his grasp, a hovering shade without form or substance, darker than darkness, more elusive than wind. Who are you, Voldemort? Are you Tom?

But something reached softly into Harry's dreams and dispelled the haunting shadow of Voldemort. Harry, lingering between dreams and wakefulness, sensed something against his forehead, and he knew that it was Tom, kissing his scar over and over again, as if he wanted to kiss Voldemort's mark away.

When Harry finally opened his eyes to the grey-white light of early dawn, he looked into Tom's luminous silver-grey eyes, and a faint tingling sensation that hovered about his lips told him that Tom's mouth had been there a moment before.

"Good morning," whispered Tom.

Harry smiled. "Good morning. Were you watching me sleep?"

Tom flushed a little. "Maybe I was. I couldn't help it; you are so beautiful when you sleep."

"But if you had woken me up instead, we could have made love before breakfast." Tom's skin was still warm from sleep, and Harry couldn't bear the thought of tearing himself away from Tom quite yet.

"It's still early enough for that, my love." Tom pressed a series of deep kisses against Harry's throat, and Harry managed a weak protest, although he could feel his body respond with an aching arousal.

"Tom, you are going to leave a mark. Everyone will know."

"Know what?" breathed Tom against his skin. "That you belong to me? I hope so. Even Abraxas Malfoy should be able to take this hint."

Harry laughed and squirmed away. "Well, in that case, here's an equally visible hint for Walburga. And for Slughorn as well, who's still lusting over you. Not that I can blame him for that, really." He kissed Tom's throat, hard.

"Ouch, you vampire." Tom laughed. "Is this better?" He kissed Harry gently on the lips, again and again. "Mmm. So, you know poor Horace's secret, do you? Don't tell him you know, Harry; he'll die of shame."

"I won't. Tom, did Slughorn ever try to...? Oh." Harry flushed as a memory from Tom's mind penetrated his consciousness: Slughorn's face, filled with a terrible, desperate wanting, as he spoke to Tom: "Why should I tell you more about horcruxes, Tom? What could possibly induce me to share such dangerous forbidden knowledge with a student?" And Tom had smiled and brushed Slughorn's cheek lightly with his hand, and Slughorn had closed his eyes and whispered hoarsely: "What will you do for me in return, Tom-?" The question had lingered, dangerously and suggestively in the air for a moment, but then Tom had answered softly: "Nothing, Horace. I offer you nothing in return. But you will tell me anyway, because I want you to." And Slughorn had opened his eyes and gazed into Tom's silver eyes for a long time. And then he had sighed and nodded. "You are right, Tom, my beautiful angel. Of course I will tell you anyway. How could I deny you anything?"

Harry stroked Tom's curls absently, still haunted by the expression on Slughorn's face. "Poor Slughorn... You have a lot of power over people, Tom."

"Poor Slughorn? He practically propositioned a sixth year student."

"I know. But my heart is breaking for him anyway."

Tom traced the curve of Harry's lips with his finger. "How can you read my mind so well, Harry? You never told me about that part. Does that have something to do with... with Voldemort as well?"