Deal

4

Harry was sitting by the fireplace in Riddle Manor, the Saturday was daft, cold.
He read his book, stroking Naginis scales as she liked, aware Voldemort was watching him.
It seemed the man never stopped looking at him.
Not that he minded, he enjoyed it.
"How much longer are you going to stare? Not that I mind, but it seems something troubles you." Voldemort blinked, seemingly coming out of his own mind at the Parselmouth in front of him.
"I suppose I was lost in thought."
"About?"
Harry put his book down, kicking his legs over the chair to look Voldemort straight in the eyes as he wanted his answer.
"A lot. Everything, nothing."
Harry wasn't satisfied with his answer, pushing further to know what troubled the man in front of him.
"Tell me. What is it that's distracted you? The thing that's claimed you're thoughts? What is so precious it worries you're mind, Tom?"
Harry saw the man visibly shiver and twitch, perhaps in anger.
"You want to know?"
Harry crosses his arms and nodded.
"You want to know what takes up space in my mind? What I think about all the time? What I constantly want, what never leaves my thoughts?"
Harry hesitatingly nodded, not really seeing this side of the man before.
He knew the man was possessive over his things, but he'd never really heard the mans possessive tone.
Until now.
"What takes up my mind, dear Harry, is none other than the pain in my side."
Harry raised a brow.
"And the love of my cold, half dead, guarded, heart."
So the man loved someone?
"Would you like to know who it is, Harry?"
The man seemed to be gritting his teeth, barely containing himself.
Harry paused, almost as if he were frozen.
His mind spun, his heart cracked, and his pulse raced.
Did he?
Did he want to know who claimed the dark lords heart?
Was he prepared to know the answer?
He didn't know the dark lord was even really capable of loving someone.
Yet here he was, professing his love for another.
Suddenly all of the times Harry had ever talked to the man seemed irrelevant.
Did he know the man?
Truly?
He should have noticed that Tom loved someone. He noticed his mind was consumed by something, though he never thought that was the issue.
Harry took a deep breath, rolling his tongue over his teeth as his brain worked a million miles an hour.
"Yes."
The reply was hesitant, as if Harry didn't want to know.
Voldemort stopped, he looked at Harry with such a look that made Harry feel as though time had stopped.
The man always did have that effect on Harry, even from hundreds of miles away.
Normally even thinking of the man got a reaction out of Harry.
Not to mention when someone spoke of him.
Perhaps that's why he favored calling him his name so much?
It was certainly better than you-know-who.
Voldemort lifted his hand, placing it on Harry's cheek, the latter leaning into the touch.
"Ah, Harry. So intelligent, so cunning, so creative and sadistic."
Harry wanted to beam at the praise.
"Yet so daft."
Harry had always been a bit ignorant to others emotions. Not to mention thinking anything like what he said next.
The words seemed to bare deep into Harry as he asked the next question.
"Who is it?"
Voldemort clicked his tongue, obviously displeased with how ignorant Harry was.
Running a cold thumb over the boys lip, Voldemort's next words made Harry want to be slammed against the wall by the man in front of him.
"It's you, brat. I. Want. You."