A Story of Mortality

Chapter 7

Ah. He supposed, even in his tipsy state, that Lin was right. This most definitely not how he should deal with his problems; but he could barely work out what it was this time! Even still, he handed his glass over without a word, knowing that his mentor always knew what was best for him, even now, or especially now, as he suspected that he was acting somewhat like a child.

"Perhaps I should have been blunter with you, my friend. I am merely concerned, about the war, yes, but about who you're fighting it with."

"Voldemort can be trusted!" Harry interrupted, not wanting to here that his tutor was against becoming allies with him. "I trust him."

Lin sighed again. "I know you trust him, Harry. And if you trust him, I trust him too." Harry felt himself relax. "You just can't lie to yourself on this. You absolutely cannot work with this man if you insist on so stubbornly denying your feelings for him."

"Fuck," Harry said, and buried his face in his hands.

"I understand," Lin said soothingly.

"It does concern me," Harry said, removing his face from his hands. "I am aware of it, sort of. It's just easier to ignore for what I need to do. I don't want to let Voldemort get the better of me just because of his looks; just because I'm attracted to him doesn't make him suddenly a good person, it doesn't excuse his behaviour one bit. What him and his followers do to muggles is vile. I can't just ignore that. And that's why working with him is going to be so hard too." Harry groaned. It was absolute madness.

"You have never been one to deny yourself such things as this," Lin commented, looking incredibly thoughtful. "Even when the person in question opposes your morals. Did you not once have a lover who wanted to have all Dark animals hunted down? Not that I thought that she was a good choice in partner, mind you, never mind how charming she was."

Harry sighed, stood, and started pacing. "That was maybe once true, Lin, but I'm older now, I have more responsibility, I have more strength-"

"You have more wine to drown yourself in?" Lin contributed, and Harry gave him a playful smack.

"I haven't taken a lover in years, Lin, you know this. I just can't afford to have somebody poking around in my morals and my feelings these days."

"I suppose not," Lin agreed solemnly.

"It'll be okay. I'd be mad to take on another bloody Dark Lord as my lover, I can leave it be."

Lin hummed in agreement. "I very much doubt he'd let you top."

"Damn right he'd let me top if he was in my own damn bed!" Harry growled. "That's not the point! The point is..." he allowed himself to breathe, and stopped pacing. "If it's just lust, I can handle it. It's just lust, so I will be fine. Right, Lin?"

His ex-tutor said nothing.

This is not a dream, Voldemort told himself confidently. Lord Voldemort does not have frivolous dreams like mortals do. This is merely a mental practice, one which is very difficult to pull off correctly and very difficult to differentiate from a dream, in order to clear my mind of what is bothering me. Because I know that there is something. And I will find it in this room right here.

Voldemort was content with his statement. Dreams meant a lack of control, but Voldemort would control this one to his benefit, because he was stronger and more capable than any mortal. And so, he just had to use his higher brain functioning to work out what it meant by him being in an empty classroom in Hogwarts.

It was raining heavily outside the castle, and the sound of it pounding heavily on the weak windows was disturbing the clarity of his mind. It was as if buckets were being thrown onto the windows, making a repetitive but out of time splat- splat—splat-splat and he could barely think through it. The sound was possibly enhanced by the fact that he could see very little; the rain clouds were clearly working as a thick coating over any natural light that might have made its way to him. From what he could tell, however, the room was very empty, perhaps with no furniture at all, and so the cold, damp feeling was quickly latching onto Voldemort and soaking into him until he felt like his very bones were saturated with the damp.