AN: This is my first ever fan fiction! All critiques welcome :) Written for a holiday competition.

Harry walked into the Dark Lord's study with a skip in his step and kneels easily.

"Good afternoon, my lord!" Harry chirped.

"Hello Harry. Rise. What has you in such a cheerful disposition today? Didn't kill any of my Death Eaters, I hope?" Voldemort inquired.

Harry scoffed as he stood up, "Your minions are safe... for now. As long as they stay away from me. Morons! The lot of them! No, what has me so 'cheerful' as you say is I have brought you a Yule gift!"

Voldemort glances up from his immense pile of paperwork, "Truly? How am I deserving of your.. ah... thoughtful gift? And minions have their uses. I believe after the example you made of Dolohov they are not likely to provoke you again; after all there aren't even magical ways to regrow testicles after they are hit with a rotting curse." Voldemort says, amused with a quirk to his thin lips.

Harry cackles, "I have that in my pensieve! Did you see his face? Magnificent. And those screams..." Harry trails off with a far away look in his emerald eyes and a manic grin on his face, "Anyway! Yes, I brought you this gift with the thought of what a hardworking, wonderful, and merciful lord you are!" Harry claims teasingly.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Potter. What is it? I am not one for these holiday festivities. It had best be good for you to be interrupting me in my private study."

"Oh, you wound me, my lord! Of course it is of the utmost practicality! Only the best for my liege," Harry replies cheekily. "Besides, flattery has gotten me exceedingly far! The old goat still thinks he has me under his wrinkled thumb," Harry sneered, "and how else did I get your wonderful present but by flattery?"

Voldemort sighs and places all his work in an orderly pile. "Alright, you have my curiosity peaked. What is this amazing gift that cannot wait another five days?"

"I'll be back in a jiff!," Harry calls as he dashes into the hallway with a grin on his face.

'That child... I don't know how he wiggled his way into my good graces... cheeky brat.' Voldemort thought fondly.

"My lord! May I present to you, Horace Slughorn!" Harry announces. He flicks his wand and in floats Horace Slughorn, hogtied with magical ropes and gagged with what appeared to be large tube socks. "I knew Vernon's old socks would come in handy one day..." Harry mused aloud.

Voldemort stood up gracefully and examined his 'gift'. "How did you manage to hogtie him? I thought he was too overlarge for that."

"Oh, it was simple really, I just broke his femurs," the green eyed boy says as he kicks his former professor, delighted at the muffled shouts. "Pathetic. You should have seen him my lord. You would want to punish him most painfully for the insult he paid you! Trying to touch what is yours!" Harry seethed with narrowed eyes.

Voldemort snaps his head around. "Did he now? How exactly did this happen? Does Dumbledore know his potion's master is missing?" Voldemort circles Slughorn with feigned nonchalance.

Harry blanches, "Well, I was going to bring him to you either way... things just didn't exactly go according to plan. He sort of... pissed me off," Harry flops down on one of the Dark Lord's armchairs sheepishly.

"Explain." Harry stretches his arms above his head to delay the inevitable. "My patience is growing thin, unless you would like a crucio thrown your way I suggest you quit stalling."

Harry sighs and pouts at Voldemort, "You know I was just doing you a favor! I haven't said much in our letters and I told you I needed to speak with you in person. Well, this year Dumbledore wanted to start giving me 'lessons'. I assumed he meant in magic, so that I could 'vanquish' you or whatever," Harry scoffs, "but really he has begun showing me memories. Of your past. He-"

"Excuse me!" Voldemort hissed, "You are just telling me this now?! If he finds-"

"Let me finish! I would have told you sooner if there was an issue! I handled it. Trust me." Harry promised. He looks at Voldemort, "He knows about your horcruxes." Voldemort, livid, opens his mouth to interject, but Harry quickly continues, "Stop! I told you it's handled. He only found one so far, which I took from under his crooked nose. You'll love this! I created a duplicate of the ring with that Arabic charm you taught me this summer, and I placed an irreversible flesh rotting curse on it with a compulsion to put it on. I even made sure it appeared to have a time delay on it so he wouldn't get suspicious!" Harry exclaimed smugly, "He put it on. Snape, unfortunately, was required to bind it to Dumblefuck's hand. But either way, he will be dead by the end of the school year. You don't need Draco to off him anymore, as if the spoilt little shit could do it anyway. He's so cowardly its a surprise he wasn't a bloody Hufflepuff!"

Voldemort chuckled, "Well, well, well. You never cease to amaze me Harrison. You must really have a thing for those rotting curses. Continue."

Harry beamed, "Right. Well, he has an idea what most of the horcruxes are. Even me, I believe. Not that he has deigned to inform me! He didn't even tell me what we were looking at until last week! If I didn't already know I would have been in the dark for months," Harry scowled at Slughorn, "Last week he gave me 'homework'. He told me he needed a specific memory... from Slughorn. This tub of lard gave him a tampered memory-deplorable really. He obviously wanted the old man to know that that wasn't the true memory. Perhaps he wanted redemption? For helping to create an immortal Dark Lord?" Harry kicked Slughorn's jaw with a noise of disgust, "You are well past redemption now. Funny that you wanted redemption when you have a thing for pretty boys, isn't it? Or maybe just the politically connected ones? How many students from your 'Slug Club'," Harry spat, "have you lavished your attention on?"

"Is that so?" Voldemort crouches down-he even makes crouching look graceful-and grabs hold of Slughorn's now bruised jaw. "Still with that Horace? I thought I might have been a special case. We will continue this discussion shortly. Finish telling me about Dumbledore; I'm fairly certain I can guess which memory he wants. How was the memory tampered with?"

Harry sat down in an armchair and called for tea service, "It was a time you stayed behind after a Slug Club meeting to 'hypothetically'-really, my lord?-ask about horcruxes and how many times you can split your soul. Not exactly subtle," Voldemort narrowed his eyes warningly, "but then again, I'm not a dark lord! Who am I to question you?" Harry asks with an innocent grin. "After you mentioned horcruxes in the memory it looked hazy and it appeared that Slughorn was telling you off for even asking. Even his voice was distorted. Dumbledore expects me to retrieve the real memory from him. I figure before we kill him," Slughorn whimpers, "we can extract the real memory and change it to our advantage. I'm sure he knows you would use a magically powerful number. He hypothesized either three or seven, but he has showed me at least three possible horcruxes already so he is heavily leaning toward seven since he believes I destroyed the diary."

Voldemort nods thoughtfully while stirring some milk into his tea, "Yes, I may just have you give him the actual memory to keep you in his good graces and just collect the rest before concealing them again in a more secure location. Perhaps the Peverell vault since we both have access to it. No one knows you have access to that vault, correct?"

"Of course not, my lord. I am humbled that you are considering placing your soul jars within my reach. I will not betray that trust." Harry bowed his head.

Voldemort grabbed his chin and tilted it toward him, "I know you won't little Harry," he placed a chaste kiss on his lips-ignoring the muffled gasp from the man on the floor. "When does Dumbledore expect this 'homework' to be completed?"

Harry, pleased, leans back to sip from his cup, "I can't be sure. I think he expects it to take a few weeks. Not before February I suppose, our sessions have been very sporadic." He taps his fingers on the cup, "I definitely want to go to him instead of him asking it of me, but we should wait until closer to February. I think that it would take the 'Gryffindor Golden Boy' a few weeks at least. I know he wouldn't attempt it during the hols," Harry scowled playfully.

"Which items does he suppose are horcruxes?"

"I have seen the ring, obviously, the Slytherin locket, and Hufflepuff's cup." Harry reported dutifully.

"That old goat! We will secure them before the week is out. You can remove the diadem before our next rendezvous, I can assume?" Harry nods, "Excellent. We will use our glamors we used this summer past to make a stop at Gringotts."

Harry smiles and places his empty cup on the table to grab a biscuit, "Sounds like a plan! You know, Tibbles makes the most delicious biscuits. He has got to share this recipe with Kreacher!" The Dark Lord sighs, exasperated, "What? It's not like they will wreck my body, I'm skinny as a stick! A biscuit or two-or three-won't do any harm."

"What am I supposed to do with a brat like you? When did my life become about listening to your drivel about tube socks and biscuits?" Voldemort bemoans to his lover.

Harry snickers, "I dunno, but you love me anyway," Harry quickly makes his way over to straddle his lord and leans in for an open-mouth kiss.

Voldemort complies, "I don't know about that you impertinent child, but I've somehow grown fond of your brazen, yet cunning, ways."

"Now, now, no discussing our bedroom habits in front of guests!" Harry flounced off with a saucy wink, "I'll be right back my love!"

Voldemort turns toward a terrified Slughorn, "See what I have to put up with? Sometimes I am happy that Armando turned me down, having to teach hormonal teens would be a nightmare. Learning with them was bad enough," he sneered as he removed the sock and untied Horace, just to retie his hands and attach the rope to the vaulted ceiling so that his feet barely brush the ground. "Is that better Horace? I must accommodate my guests, no? Hold still, I need all of your hair if we are to pull this off properly. Perhaps I will have Rodolphus take your place. He is one of the more jovial Death Eaters..."

"Ruddy is a great choice!" Harry exclaims as he walks back in with Nagini in tow, "I was thinking either him or Rookwood myself. Rookwood's breath may be a dead give-away though," Harry's nose wrinkled in distaste, "Ruddy is definitely the better option. Though I wonder what Bella will do without her butt buddy. She will have to torture the muggles by herself! For shame!" He cries dramatically with a wicked twinkle in his emerald depths.

"Indeed," Voldemort states wryly as he turns back to Slughorn. "Perhaps you will help me with this? I suppose you have Polyjuice in the works ready for the end of break?"

"Yes, in fact I owled Dumbledore a note from Horace-written by Horace too, just maybe not voluntarily-telling him he had been invited to visit one of his former students," Harry conjured a plastic bag, ignoring the pointed look from his lover as he steps up to him, "A Gwenog Jones or something, a quidditch player I think. She has a ball every year apparently so it shouldn't be too suspicious. And I bought two weeks worth of Polyjuice, plus Snape has some in the beginning stages as well. We will be fully prepared."

"If we are fully prepared, what happened not according to plan? You said he implied sexual overtures?"

"I had intended to flatter my way into speaking to him in private using that crystalized pineapple he likes so much, and by buttering him up during the Slug Club. I was going to ask him for a moment of his time, but imagine my surprise when he beat me to the punch," Harry scowled as Voldemort continued placing the hair clippings in the plastic bag. "At first I thought it was just a lucky break and that he wanted to ask me about my latest essay or something. He started out innocently enough, asking about my plans for the hols. I told him, as I'm sure he already knew, that I signed up to stay at Hogwarts for the break and that I was just planning on doing my homework and lazing about. We continued talking for about twenty minutes and I was working up to giving him the crystalized pineapple, which I had soaked in Draught of Living Death by the way-did I mention that?," Harry asks superiorly with a smoldering look toward his lover as Voldemort raised a hairless brow, "Just before I was going to give him the box he started asking me odd questions.

"He thought I didn't notice him brandish his wand behind his back. He locked the door and set up a proximity ward and a silenceing charm, who knew he was so good with nonverbal magic anyway? Surprising, that. He took off his robe and rolled up the sleeves to his shirt asking me if I was feeling hot. In his office, which is in the dungeons, during December. As if he could be any more obvious! I went along with it just to see what exactly he was up to though I had a fairly good idea," the Dark Lord hummed, "During our little Q&A session he was asking me about my sex life, trying to come off as a fellow man that wanted to joke about our experiences, but it was obvious he was fishing for information even to a thick Gryffindor like me. I acted to perfection of course," Harry smiled smugly, "I acted flustered and blushed and told him that I had never been with anyone. He 'slyly'-" he rolled his eyes, "-asked if I just wasn't interested in the fairer sex. I told him I wasn't sure, but that I was getting uncomfortable with the conversation. 'Nonsense!' He said. He told me it was natural that some people just preferred their own gender.

"Then he had the nerve to ask me if I'd like some experience! Because he could give me 'tips' and I could 'practice'. It was nauseating, really. As if I would put that tiny prick in any orifice. I sputtered that no, I wasn't interested at all, that maybe I should go," Harry glared at Slughorn who at least looked ashamed, "but obviously the door was locked when I attempted to open it. He came up behind me and pressed me against the door! He shoved his hand down the back of my trousers and began kneading my ass. I had never intended to even let him touch me, let alone my ass. I quickly grabbed my wand and hit him with a dark spell that may or may not have set off the headmaster's wards... which is when I panicked. I stunned him and levitated him out into an empty classroom and stunned the two seventh years that saw me and set them up in the classroom, modified their memories to make it seem like they were going to steal potions ingredients and got in a duel so I could get away with using a few more spells. I made sure both of them were hit with different things and made it seem like the dark spell I used just missed its target. I did all of that in about five minutes so there's a good chance that it was a bit sloppy...," Harry trailed off sheepishly.

"No one else saw? Do you know if Dumbledore actually came to check?" his Lord asked sharply.

"I sure as hell didn't stick around!" Harry defended, "I forced Slughorn to chew some of the crystalized pineapple so he could ingest the potion, covered him with my invisibility cloak, and made my merry way back to my dorm. I watched on the Marauder's Map and Dumbledore didn't go to the dungeons, but McGonagall did. She found the students and took them to the infirmary and stayed there for a while so I'm sure they got a serious lecture. The most they should get is detention for a month though, there weren't serious injuries and nothing ended up stolen. I doubt they 'admitted' to her why they were in Slughorn's office to begin with.

"Then this morning I used the map to find the professor, used the antidote, and forced him to write Dumbledore about his absence. And here we are!" Harry smiled innocently.

"And here we are," the Dark Lord mocked, "Very well. As long as all the loose ends are tied up. As soon as we're finished I will inform Rodolphus of his newest assignment."

"They are, my lord. I'm glad you found my actions acceptable. I didn't mean to botch it up, but I'm still fairly new to all of this cloak and dagger stuff." Harry murmurs apologetically.

Voldemort cocks his head, "Since you brought me this lovely gift, I'll let you have some fun before I kill him, yes?" The Dark Lord says.

"Really, my lord?" Harry asks, shocked. An absolutely evil grin splits his face as he turns to inspect his new toy. "Thank you for this honor, I think you will enjoy it. How should I do it? Magic or the old fashion way, love?"

"I wouldn't waste my magic torturing that disgusting maggot," Voldemort drawls.

Harry's smile gets impossibly wider, "I know just what to do, my lord." He walks over to the table and glances at Slughorn. While watching his expression Harry conjures pliers, kitchen shears, a thin hooked needle, a brand shaped like the Dark Mark, a fire poker, and a rat in a cage. "Tibbles!" He shouts.

Crack, "Yes, Master Consort, sir?"

"Bring the rack-" Slughorn gasps and wriggles in a vain attempt to get free- "from the dungeons please."

"Of course, Master Consort, sir! Anythings for yous, sir!" Crack!

"Why do the house elves adore you so, Harry? I wish they would grovel so much to me." Voldemort practically pouts, as much as a snake-like dark lord can pout anyway.

"Well, I'm obviously just that amazing," Harry claims with a smirk, "They have all heard of the 'great, honorable Master Potter sir', especially since I tell them please and thank you. Besides, you have actually humans that grovel, why would you need nonhumans to grovel to you?"

"All creatures should grovel at my feet." Voldemort says haughtily, with his non-existent nose turned up and leans down to stroke Nagini.

"Careful love, your arrogance is showing. Don't let that big head topple you over!" Harry teases with an easy smile on his face.

Voldemort points at himself in disbelief, "Oh, hello pot. My name is kettle. And look! We're both black!" Harry laughs genuinely and steps away from his torture tools to place a peck on his lover's taunt cheek. "Don't sidle over here with your kisses to mock me! You know you are just as egotistical as I!" He says with an amused glint to his red eyes.

"Never, my lord, never." During their conversation the house elf came in and set up the rack. Tibbles easily snaps his fingers to secure the portly man to the rack and divested him of his clothing. Harry made a noise of contempt. "I wonder if he gets his rocks off on little boys because no one else would do it for him willingly," he says with a sneer adorning his face. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

Voldemort sat in his forest green armchair with a look of vindictive glee. "I'll just be watching the show Harry. He's all yours. Then maybe you can give /me/ a show of your own later?" He asks slyly, throwing the green-eyed boy a half-lidded glance.

With a smirk Harry nods at the Dark Lord and returns to his prey with the pliers and the kitchen shears in his hand. "Well, I-unfortunately for you-enjoy getting right to it. I'd say this will hurt me more than it will hurt you, but I'd be lying," he said, smirk still in place. "Oh! Uncircumcised. Thats definitely how I prefer it, but I'll make an exception. I may not have the necessary tools, but I'll make due." Harry uses the pliers to grab his former professor's foreskin, heedless of the begging and pained sounds. He twisted and pulled the skin of the soft prick taunt and lazily snipped off the tip using the shears. Harry found the screams to be utterly delectable. "Yes! Scream because that's the only way you'll be able to express yourself from this point forward. The rest of your, admittedly short, life is going to be filled with unimaginable pain... well, I suppose it will be imaginable to you. Just not to us." The teen points out tauntingly. At this point Slughorn is shaking with snot and silent tears running down his chubby face. Harry doesn't bother to clean up the blood and repositions himself to the professor's side, pliers and shears still in hand. "One to the next, I suppose." With a grin Harry swiftly clamps and removes Slughorns right nipple. Without the gag, and on top of the pain of having his cock mutilated Slughorn's screams are impossibly loud.

"Ever the creative one, pet." Voldemort praises.

"Don't call me that!" Harry snarls, eyes flashing, "You know I hate it!"

"Hush now, I'm building your ire. Take it out on him, pet. He was going to force himself on you. He's probably done so to other students. For years, no doubt! I wonder if he obliviates them... your mother always was one of his favorites, I wonder if he made an exception...?" He trails off, feeling Harry's magic spike dangerously and obsessively watching the rage emanating from his lover's green eyes. The Dark Lord stands and makes his way over to whisper directly in his ear. "Make him pay Harry. He deserves this and much more. Show me how angry you are, show me how dark you are. I want to see you unhinged Harry." The soft, severe voice of his master brought his bloodlust to new heights as he placed the used tools back on the table. Harry grabs the conjured rat in the cage and makes sure it's stomach in gnawing with hunger.

"Hold still Horace." He takes some straps from the table and secured the cage to Slughorn's obscenely large stomach, then vanishes the bottom of the cage nonverbally. "Here you go sweetums. Eat up." Harry uses an underpowered diffindo to make a small incision as a starting point for the hungry rat.

"No! No! Please, please no! I'll do anything!" Slughorn pleads, when he finally manages the pain enough to speak. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please! I'll take the mark! Anything!"

Voldemort scoffs, "You're useless. I already have a much more accomplished potions master at my disposal and I don't need an old pedophile like you in my ranks. I have enough lowlifes to deal with thank you very much."

"Besides, we enjoy those lovely sounds you make so much! Plead all you want, it just makes it that much more pleasurable." Harry says with a sadistic grin. "Imperio."

The rat stiffens momentarily and then goes directly to the slowly bleeding cut. It begins to nibble on the potioneer's flesh with relish that was far more savage than normal for a rat.

Turning his back to Slughorn's pained howls, Harry once again returns to the table with the instruments. "What next my lord? The brand?" Harry holds up the skull and snake shaped piece of metal, "Or the fire poker?" He asks with an uninterested air.

"The fire poker will do, I believe" His master tells him with an equally unaffected air about him.

Cackles rent the air, "Of course." Harry, still ignoring the beautiful pleading he so enjoys, comes around to Slughorn's feet. He begins lightly running the tip of the fire poker up and down the sole of the naked man's left foot. "Are you still sorry? Sorry for what you've done? Sorry for trying to touch what isn't rightfully yours?"

"So sorry!" He gasps, "I'm so so sorry!"

"Good," Harry grabs the top of the foot and impales the foot all the way through with piercing screams making the most beautiful sounds to his ears, making him shudder in ecstasy from the top of his head down to his toes. Unfortunately, he had already impaled it as far as the fire poker could go, so he wrenched it out wringing further screams from the blubbering man.

"Left foot, left foot, right foot, right," Harry chants as he alternates the tip of the poker between the soles of each foot. On the last 'right' he once again lances it all the way to the curved barb, "You're such a delight to torture professor! I never imagined your wails would taste so sweet!" Harry exclaims with a definitely not-sane gleam to his eye as he watched the blood gushing out of the wrinkled feet. Meanwhile Voldemort eyes the scene appreciatively. Harry grabs the needle with the hook, "Ugh, I should have thought of this before snipping you! It's so hard to find your urethra in this bloody mess! Ah, got it!" He wriggles the tip of the needle in and with no further consideration thrusts it all the way into the much too small passage. "I'll let you get used to that for a bit, and then I'll remove it. Aren't I nice?"

Slughorn whimpers, "It hurts, it hurts so bad. Please stop, please, please, please stop." The rat has made a hole about two inches wide at this point and is working on his innards.

"You want this to stop?" Slughorn nods, "Is that what your students used to say? TELL ME!" Harry demanded.

His former professor yells, "Yes! They told me to stop! I didn't though! I didn't! They told me it hurt them! What do you want me to say?! I didn't stop!"

"So why should I professor?" Harry asks snidely with an ugly sneer on his face, "This is just penance for your sins. You should have thought of this beforehand. Surely you knew one day you would be repaid for what you've done?" Horace hangs his head, "I'll take that as a no. Of course you wouldn't. Why is it that all of the authority figures in my life act so justified when they are actually the ones who think themselves above the law?"

Voldemort ventures, "My Harry, they have inferiority complexes. They feel they need power to raise their pitifully low self-esteems. It's disgusting, truly. Some think I have an inferiority complex since I am a leader and have my own followers whom I delegate jobs to. They may be messy jobs, but you know what they say. 'The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.' We are the patriots, though many may call us tyrants. We are fighting so that we can practice dark magic with no stigmatism attached, like most other magical countries. We are stuck at least a half century behind other countries, even the Continent! Why do you think Durmstrang teaches the dark arts? Beauxbatons might not teach dark magic practically, but they teach some theory and the differences between light and dark without the bias that is prevalent in Britain."

Harry nods, "I know my lord, I just find it vastly hypocritical... and did you just quote Thomas Jefferson? A muggle? An American muggle? You do realize that when he said that the British were the tyrants to him, right?" He asks, an eyebrow lifted in amusement. Voldemort glares at him without any real heat and waves a hand dismissively.

"Continue with the torture. I'm just looking forward to what comes after we kill him."

With a laugh the teen returns the fire poker to it's place on the table and grabs the brand. "Last stop professor, then the torture can continue in the afterlife I'm sure," he drawls. Pointing his wand at the brand he incants 'flamma' and it glows red with heat. "Where should I brand you, sir? I'm thinking inner thigh." Harry presses it against the soft, fatty skin close to the potions master's groin and hears the most pained scream yet. Harry yanks it off the blistered skin just to renew the heating spell and presses it against the skin between the man's scrotum and anal cavity.

Voldemort lifts Nagini and drapes her over his shoulders to speak to Harry once again, "You are very beautiful when you are being sadistic love," he hisses in Parseltongue over the screams, "Why don't you give him a taste of his own medicine?" He conjures a agonized pear and presses it into his one and only friend's hand while taking the brand from the other. "Don't stop until it's open all the way. Then I'll collect his memories and kill him so we can sojourn to the bedroom where I can show you exactly how much I appreciate your Yule gift-appreciate you. No one sees you the way I see you, Harry. You're the balm to my black, broken soul." He steps aside to view his lover slowly inch the torture device into the hairless man's furrowed hole with no preparation.

"I lied professor. The fun's not over yet." Already bleeding, it begins absolutely spouting blood once Harry starts to twist the knob. Harry doesn't even bother watching Slughorn. He concentrates on Voldemort as his eyes are blown open with malice. Harry-still twisting the knob-turns the dark lord's head to plant a loving kiss on the artfully thin lips. Harry smiles as he finishes opening the pear and without losing eye contact with his lover, rips the hooked needle from their prisoner's urethra.

By now the imperioed rat is fully devouring a section of the man's large intestines and his groin is a bloody, useless mess of piss and tissue. Horace passed out from the pain when Harry removed the needle from him, so naturally he was 'rennervated'. Voldemort calls another house elf, Mitty, to bring him his pensieve while Nagini slithers out of the room. "Alright Horace, after this you'll be released from life. Hold still and soon your pain will be over," the Dark Lord soothes in a falsely pleasant voice. Looking straight into his former professor's glazed eyes, Voldemort performs multiple dark, painful spells to steal and organize Slughorn's memories from the dark lord's school years onward in order to give Rodolphus the best chance at acting the part, and to get the memory Harry needs to give the headmaster. Slowly, the pensieve fills to the brim with the airy substance of memories.

"Would you like to do the honors, my lord? I do believe you mentioned some mighty naughty activities we are going to engage in shortly?" Harry asks playfully, as if they hadn't just spent forty minutes torturing their former professor.

Voldemort's lip twitches, "Of course Harrison," he points his wand at the broken man, "Avada kedavra," they immediately embrace and kiss each other brutally, "Shall we retire to our quarters then? I could always give you your gift early as well," he says as he rubs his noseless face into Harry's hair.

"Let's clean up this huge mess first," the teen says with his nose scrunched at the bloody body and equally bloody floor as he banishes the torture implements he used.

"That's what the house elves are for."

"That's what magic is for."

"Fine. Cremito. Evanesco. Scorgify." Harry beams at him, "Why do I put up with you again?"

"Because I'm the only person who can be your equal. I choose to defer to you, but I still challenge you where it counts." Harry says seriously.

Voldemort attempts to smooth down Harry's wild hair, "Good reasons. Good reasons, indeed. Now strip. And follow me," He says imperiously as he walks into the hallway without a backward glance.

Harry grins, finally they are getting to the best part of the day. He haphazardly throws his blood soaked clothes to the ground and follows his lord with a skip in his step, leaving the study behind with only a pensieve and a pile of red dyed clothes as a reminder of the grisly death that just occurred.