Hello lovelies, I am back with another oneshot!
I know it has been a long time, I have been writing stories over at my account for M-rated stories ^^''

My bèta sent me a post about types of kissing and I could not resist writing this short story.
I unortunately cannot post the link because even with a lot of spaces, it is removed each time. If you want to see the images, please search 'the Science of Kissing Boston Post' on google.
Basically, it shows three types of greeting: a kiss of hospitality (kiss on the forehead), a rival's embrace (forehead and nose touching) and an enthusiastic kiss (kiss on the lips) between two women, from the Boston Post in 1895. As the title suggests, only the middle one is important for this story.

While this story turned out a lot more serious than I thought, it was supposed to be rather humorous and not really to be taken very serious. As it still has some of those elements, I still included the genre 'Humor'

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Harry Potter universe and this work of fanfiction is not sold for profit.

Enjoy!

Frozen to the spot, Harry watched as Quirrel unwrapped the turban. So much had been revealed in the past few minutes that he could barely wrap his head around it. And now this… what was going on? His teacher turned and he could do nothing but stare… stare at what he was faced with. Another man… barely a man, red eyes piercing in his soul.

''Harry Potter,'' the face whispered. ''We meet at last. Ah, but where are my manners… Quirrel, bring me closer.''

With horror, Harry watched as Quirrel awkwardly tried to shuffle backwards, so the thing did not break eye-contact once as it came ever closer. Voldemort… this was the one who had murdered Harry's parents, the one who had spread fear and terror over the country so much that none dared speak his name. The chalk-white face came to a halt right in front of him and Quirrel sank to his knees so Voldemort was on eye-height with Harry. Still feeling like a statue, Harry didn't react when the strangest thing happened and a cold forehead touched his, Voldemort's nearly flat nose pressed against his. It didn't even last a second, a piercing pain shooting through his forehead while those eyes seemed to penetrate his very being.

The pain made him quickly step back, nearly stumbling up the stairs behind him. ''What… what are you doing?'' he stuttered as Quirrel rose once more and composed himself. Voldemort's eyes were narrowed and wrinkles had appeared on the face as if it hadn't hurt Harry alone.

''Because of you, I am reduced to this state,'' Voldemort said with bitterness in his voice. ''A wisp of my former self, having to rely on others to even hold a shape. I am giving you the respect that my rival deserves, nothing more, nothing less. But we need not be enemies forever, boy. Once you hand me the stone in your pocket, I can return to former glory and give you anything you wish for. Your life… your parent's lives… Beg for mercy like your parents did and I will grant it to you.''

''YOU LIE!'' Harry yelled, mind racing. Voldemort knew about the Stone he had… Why hadn't the man taken it when he'd been so close? What did he mean with respect? ''Why would I ever join someone like you? The world is better off without you!''

Voldemort didn't even look angry, he merely smiled. ''Such a Gryffindor through and through. A pity. Bravery is good, but you clearly need to be taught some sense. Your father was brave too as he fought me, before he fell by my wand. Your mother was brave as she begged for me to spare you. I would have granted her mercy if she'd only have stepped aside.''

''You are sick,'' Harry spat, and the snake-like face twisted with fury.

''You will regret denying my offer. You are a fool, Harry Potter, and I will hunt you down if it is the last thing I'll do if you do not give me what I want. The Stone, boy, now.''

Harry didn't answer at all, weirded out by the man's behaviour from before. He wanted to spend not a second longer in this room and turned around, fully intending to rush straight through the fire again at the entrance.

He didn't get far, Quirrel somehow managed to cross the distance in a second and landed on Harry's back, wrestling to get the stone. The fight escalated quickly, with shouting back and forth until Quirrel was screaming whenever Harry touched his skin and Harry screamed with him from the pain on his forehead. Weakened, the world slipped from his grasp.

''There is something I don't understand,'' he said, much later. The landscape whoosed by as they left Hogwarts by the train, and he sat with the two best friends he could ever have wished for, trying to take in the moment before being dropped off at the Dursleys again. ''I completely forgot to ask professor Dumbledore in the hospital wing, but there was something really strange when I spoke to Volde- You-Know-Who,'' he said with a guilty look at Ron, who had made a near inhuman noise. Hermione instantly leaned in.

''Strange?'' she asked, eyebrows raised.

''Yes. Right after he showed himself, after he spoke my name, he came close and…'' Harry gestured with his hands. ''Kind of pressed his face against mine.''

''He kissed-'' Ron chortled, which had Harry shaking his head wildly in embarrassment.

''NO! No, it was kind of a nose touch. And forehead. He blabbered something about showing respect to an enemy or something.''

''I've read about that!'' Hermione exclaimed, and Harry breathed out in relief at having someone at his side to explain the situation he'd struggled to understand. ''In the book 'Culture: Courtesy and Chivalry', several ways of greeting were discussed that are used amongst wizards and witches. Apparently, it is good etiquette for great rivals to greet each other this way, so there is no mistaking of intentions.

''I've never heard of this,'' Ron protested. ''And I come from a whole family of Wizards!''

''Well, you'd also never heard of Flamel, the most influential Alchemist of our age,'' Hermione said with a tone that made clear how much she thought Ron's knowledge of Wizarding customs was worth. ''Anyways, being greeted like this is a great honour, although it does mean that that person is out for your blood.''

''Fantastic,'' Harry groaned. ''Not like I didn't know that already, he did literally try to kill me twice now.'' He sighed and curled up on the soft-padded bench. ''Thanks, Hermione. The pondering would have killed me this summer if you hadn't read every book in the library.''

''You're very welcome,'' she answered with a bright smile. ''But remember, it is only used for arch-enemies and so, please don't go shoving your face into Malfoy's or else he'll think you really want him dead.''

''I want him dead,'' Ron interjected. ''Should I?''

Harry laughed and threw a book at his friend, ignoring Hermione's terrified gasp as a page ripped.

The rearranged letters burned in the air, Riddle standing next to them looking smug.

I am Lord Voldemort… How could he have missed this? The time added up, the Heir of Slytherin, Riddle's words… how had Harry been able to believe otherwise? Dread started filling him.

''So, Harry…'' Riddle breathed, the smile on his face turning into a smirk. ''Now you know.''

''You are my enemy,'' Harry muttered. A memory flashed in his head. It had been nearly exactly one year ago, hadn't it, that he'd faced Voldemort and fought over the Philosopher's stone.

''Indeed,'' the older teen whispered. Harry didn't even try to step back, trying to glare as hard at Riddle as he could possibly muster as the Slytherin stepped closer and their foreheads touched, an unpleasant tingle spreading over his it as the memory that was still not completely real touched him. It lasted a few seconds and no pain came this time, which was a huge relief. Riddle straightened again and swept past him, continuing his lengthy explanation while Harry could only listen, feeling thrown off and more than a bit confused from the not-quite-physical contact.

Much later, when it was all over, basilisk tooth still in hand and the diaries' ink dropping on the cold stone floor, when the adrenaline of running and fighting rushed from his body, Harry could only keep thinking of that one moment. He knew its meaning now, but still. Shaking his head, he pulled himself up, there were more important things to do. Checking on Ginny, for example.

Ginny!

All thoughts about Riddle were banished from his mind as he rushed over to the girl.

White steam filled the graveyard, clouding Harry's vision after he had witnessed one of the darkest pieces of magic he'd ever seen. With desperation, he wished that the thing in Wormtail's arms would not have survived being thrown in boiling water. On the other hand, he also felt a slight curiosity, and a strange twinge of worry. He'd only spoken to Voldemort twice: once in his first year and once with the diary. Why did he feel worry of all things? There was absolutely nothing that bound them, and Voldemort had tried to trick him both times with honeyed words.

Yet, the slight sigh that was released from Harry's mouth as the outline of a man became visible through the fog, was one of relief, as much as he wanted to deny it. Would Voldemort speak to him again? Say his name, look into his eyes and grant him recognition? For that was what it came down to in the end. Even while disliking the title of 'Boy-Who-Lived, he'd been mocked so much by the Prophet and other students this year, that a hint of being seen for who he was, was really overdue. He'd battled monsters, faced a man whom many wished to deny the existence of so much that they couldn't even handle his name, but he was met with ridicule?

''Robe me,'' Voldemort spoke in a cold, slightly hissing tone, and Harry felt a slight drop of disappointment in his stomach over being ignored. Perhaps better, he thought after. He was already bound to a tombstone, having a grown man not only press up to him but being naked while doing it, was maybe a tad much. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks at the thought and pointedly looked elsewhere, his eyes only sliding back to the figure when the Dark Lord was done examining his new body and finally spoke: ''Harry, so we meet again. Three years it has been now, hasn't it? So much has changed…''

The silky, black robes billowed in the wind as Voldemort moved to stand right in front of him, scarlet eyes staring down with fascination. The man made a jerking motion with his fingers as if hesitating, then lifted it to Harry's face. They surely both remembered that time where their brief touch had caused a searing pain. Now, as a nail carefully raked over Harry's cheek, it was only Harry who screamed, and Voldemort's grin stretched wider, a hissing chuckle falling from his lips as Harry tried to twist away.

The attempt was futile, the ropes binding him tightly to the headstone of Voldemort's father. ''It seems this has changed too,'' the Dark Lord spoke, eyes gleaming as they came closer, hands cupping Harry's face. The gesture could have been mistaken for gentle, but each touch made Harry's blood boil and his head burst. He was sure that his head would split open. ''Ah, but I cannot be so unwelcome, I suppose…''

Harry blinked as the pain left him, blurry shapes coming into focus again as the pain faded and his glasses were pushed more tightly on his nose. ''I had wished for you to be my enemy no longer, Harry,'' the man murmured, seemingly in deep regret. ''Everything would have been so much easier then. Alas, you keep ruining my plans.''

Voldemort's cool, smooth forehead sank against his, Harry's nose being pressed once again against Voldemort's ophic one. He felt the other's breath on his lips, a puff of icy air. The contact lingered as they stared each other down. Or that was what Harry thought was going on anyways. His whole body was rigid, and he tried his hardest to concentrate on glaring instead of the fingers that brushed hair behind his ears now. ''I will kill you,'' the other whispered softly. ''You are worthy of being killed by me personally.''

''What a great honour,'' Harry sarcastically retorted. ''You know, I'll do you one better, you are worthy of being killed by me.''

Voldemort drew away, laughing. ''Such defiance in the face of death!'' he exclaimed. ''I admire that in you, Harry… So many people merely turn into a blubbering mess.'' He sighed dramatically and pointedly looked at Wormtail, who was still holding the shaking stump of his arm, wailing quietly. ''Your arm,'' he drawled.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back into the tombstone as Voldemort spoke of calling his Death Eaters, a sharp sting of pain making the teen crack an eye open again, seeing Voldemort withdraw a finger from a gleaming black mark on Pettigrew's arm.

When Voldemort's little monologue about his family history was over and the first Death Eaters started arriving, a mass of cloaked and robed people, did Harry truly grasp what had happened.

The Dark Lord had returned, and he would stop at nothing to gain power again.

Unfortunately, Harry stood in the way of that.

''I can't believe I survived,'' he whispered, feeling miserable. ''Everything just happened in such a blur, a rush of adrenaline, once he'd released me.''

''Why did he release you in the first place? That was a stupid move and he didn't sound like an unintelligent man,'' Hermione enquired, always the one with the right questions to ask.

Harry covered his face with his hands, rubbing the skin until it was sore so he would feel something beyond the numbness setting in after accepting what had happened. Cedric was dead. Voldemort was back… and who would believe him?

''He has some… weird thing about etiquette,'' Harry mumbled. ''Said he would give me a chance to fight, that niceties must be observed to show the superiority of magical kind as opposed to Muggles who stab each other in the back. He somehow expected that I could duel. As if, after that one disastrous lesson from Lockhart and Snape. We bowed to each other, he insisted on it and I supposed that it was better to go along. Then he hit me with a Cruciatus curse right away. Merlin, I didn't know that anything could hurt that much.''

Ron patted him awkwardly on the back. ''We're glad you're still here. If he'd used a different Unforgivable…''

''Yeah,'' he muttered. ''But he didn't. He even gave… pauses in between to recover.''

''He was toying with you,'' Hermione interjected, playing a hand on his knee, her lips trembling.

''I…. I don't know.'' Was that the truth? Voldemort had said he would die that evening, had the duel only been a mockery? Harry hadn't been able to do much, that was true, but he'd almost thought that the Dark Lord was hesitant at times to actually do the deed and get rid of him forever. The man had even told him snippets of his past, his family, about the Riddle house on top of the hill where his Muggle father had lived. Why? The only attempts to truly get him killed was by trying to have him beg for death under the Imperius curse, after it had already been shown that Harry could resist that spell, and then at the very end as he'd been making his escape. Although that wasn't entirely true, there had been that one Killing curse fired at him that had caused the golden cage of light to appear… Priori Incantatem, Dumbledore had called it before.

''Could you guys… leave me alone for a while?'' he quietly asked. ''I need to think.''

They nodded with worried eyes and retreated, leaving him all alone in the dorms, alone with his thoughts.

Bellatrix' shrieks of fury were marvellous to hear as Harry kept taunting her, blood pumping in his ears even as he once again was filled with all-encompassing pain. ''He knows you failed,'' he laughed at the raging woman. ''No-one will get that stupid prophecy now!''

''ACCIO PROPHECY. NO, LIAR!'' she screamed, more and more desperate as Harry watched her. ''MASTER!''

''You really think he'll show up here?'' he spoke, raising his wand to point at her. She had killed Sirius, she deserved anything he could throw at her. Anything at all.

''Didn't you?'' A soft, cold voice spoke behind him. Harry held his breath and whirled around, heart sinking. There he stood, removing a black hood with skeletal hands, just as terrible as Harry remembered him to be. ''Such little faith in me, Harry,'' the man purred, moving closer slowly, as if stalking prey. Abruptly, he halted and turned to Bellatrix. ''You disappointed me. You and the others. Couldn't deal with a few teenagers quick enough to prevent the Order of the Phoenix showing up? Pathetic… Get out of my sight!''

Bellatrix' tear-stricken faced touched the floor as she bowed as deep as she possibly could, muttering desperate apologies that Voldemort clearly didn't listen to before she disappeared. Harry's wand was still raised, but he had no intention of firing spells. He observed Voldemort, who inspected the room. ''Are you…'' he started, then shook his head. ''Shouldn't we…'' he made a vague gesture to his head, and Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

''I don't know boy, should we?'' The man hissed, sounding very displeased in a way that made Harry almost feel guilty, as if he had done something bad. No, this man wanted him dead, there was absolutely no reason to feel as if he shouldn't disappoint Voldemort. With a few strides, the Dark Lord was upon him and stared down with burning hatred. ''You destroyed our prophecy. The reason why you were branded my enemy, gone. Joined Dumbledore's little band of rebels as if you're nothing more than just another puppet soldier in his game,'' Voldemort spat. His hand shot out and curled around Harry's neck, drawing him closer with a sharp jerking motion, yet keeping Harry at such a distance that their foreheads didn't quite meet yet. The expected pain at the touch didn't come and Harry remembered that somehow, the other could control this now.

''A reason I knew nothing about before,'' Harry retorted. ''And I still went along.''

Voldemort blinked rapidly, the only sign of surprise he would show. ''Ah yes, I heard before… I thought Dumbledore would have told you, why I came for you specifically all those years ago. Why you are the one and only person I will ever deem my ultimate foe. But are you still? I gave you a chance to prove yourself, to show your hidden powers at the graveyard. There was… nothing.''

Behind Voldemort, Harry saw movement, but he didn't dare look away from the ruby eyes that held his. ''Tom, don't be foolish,'' Dumbledore spoke. Harry was pushed away roughly, barely catching himself as he fell on the marble floor. A fight ensued and escalated quickly, Harry trying to warn Dumbledore whenever he could. It was close, too close. Had Fawkes not come, that Killing curse would have hit… he couldn't lose two people on one day.

The fire died, the water crashed back down in the fountain and for a moment, everything was still. Dumbledore's and his gaze crossed, Voldemort nowhere to be seen. Confused, Harry tried to get to his feet again. ''Stay there!'' the Headmaster shouted. There was a tinge of panic. But wasn't it over? Had Voldemort not fled?

''AARGH!'' Needles wormed its way into his brain, a thousand knives slid him open from the inside. Agony beyond belief. Red eyes swam in his vision, coils of a black serpent tightened around his body. Where was he? What was this? ''Stop it! Stop, please!'' he cried out. The creature loosened its hold, the pain ebbing away. He still couldn't see much, the Atrium had disappeared completely. There stood Voldemort again, black robes against another canvas of even darker, purer black.

''Are you begging me now?'' the man spoke. ''I wonder, is it for life or death?''

''Why are you doing this?''

''Where do we stand now, Harry?'' The Dark Lord asked in return. ''Will you keep fighting?''

''Of course!'' he shouted back. ''As long as I keep standing here, I will oppose you. Your Death Eaters, your spies, you… you all want to ruin this amazing world!''

An almost sad smile crossed Voldemort's face fleetingly. ''Amazing?'' he whispered. ''I wish to make it so...''

Harry couldn't reply, waking with a shock, and staring with even more shock at the white hand that was held out in front of him. Voldemort didn't look any less menacing than before, but the fact that Harry was still alive gave him the courage to accept the hand and be pulled to his feet. ''Do me proud then,'' the Dark Lord breathed, holding Harry in a tight grip. Giving in to their odd ritual with an eagerness that he hadn't expected, Harry made a move and pressed his forehead and nose against Voldemort's. ''Next time we meet, Harry Potter, I expect great things from you. Train, fight, be the foe you should be.''

A fireplace behind them flared up and several pops of apparition could be heard. Voldemort muttered a curse under his breath, pulled away and disapparated, but not before gasps and screams filled the air. Harry sat back down on the floor, trembling all over. He couldn't believe that he'd survived yet another encounter with his nemesis.

''Harry…'' It was Dumbledore, whose expression was one of grief and pain and several unreadable emotions. Tired beyond belief, the teen only shook his head, tears stinging his eyes. It didn't matter that he was alive. Sirius, his godfather, was still dead, and he hadn't even been able to avenge the man. He'd just stood there…

Whatever Voldemort's reasoning was, Harry would follow the advice. He'd become stronger, so the next time they stood face-to-face, he wouldn't feel so helpless.

Harry blindly reached out to Dobby, fingers grasping for the elf's hand, his one escape from the drawing room, which was now in shambles with the broken chandelier in its middle. He looked over his shoulder, saw the pale faces of the Malfoys, and Bellatrix' furious expression. Something flew to them. Something silver, sharp.

''No!'' He wheezed. Harry's fingers slipped away again as he threw himself in front of it. He needed to protect his friends, they had to get out of here alive! A loud bang told him they had reached safety. The white-hot, blinding pain in his scar and in his chest told him he was not. Gasping for air, he looked at the knife that stuck in his chest, and he started laughing, unable to stop. Two years he had trained. He'd seen Dumbledore fall from the tower, he'd survived a lake filled with Inferi, had nearly drowned in the icy forest pond… and now he'd go down by a common knife, without meeting his self-proclaimed enemy again?

He fell sideways, the room blurry as his knees gave out. He could feel blood seeping from his chest. All of the books he'd gone through to learn more spells, to become strong enough to face Voldemort, and his first reflex had still been to physically throw himself between his friends and the incoming danger. Stupid… Voldemort should have searched for a smarter rival.

He heard shouting, then screaming, a high-pitched shriek even louder than Hermione's had been before, when Bellatrix had tortured her. ''Don't you dare die now,'' someone growled, dragging him up. Peeking through his lashes with the greatest difficulty, Harry saw the enraged expression on Voldemort's face.

''I tried, you know,'' Harry mumbled. ''To fight you in any way I could. To become worthy…'' he laughed again, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. A fine spray of red stained the white face in front of him. ''I killed several of your Horcruxes, is that good enough?'' he muttered, chuckling.

Voldemort froze. If possible, his pale face whitened even further, eyes widening as he took in Harry's words. ''What?'' he whispered. ''No, no… that cannot be.'' Shock transformed into a terrifying fury. ''Potter!'' Voldemort spat.

Harry only kept giggling, finding the entire situation somehow funny. Had he been hit by another spell? ''You're slipping on your etiquette,'' he reminded Voldemort, somehow finding the strength to raise his arms, winding one around the man's waist to hold onto and one landing in the crook of the Dark Lord's neck. ''It's been a long time since we met…'' he whispered, sighing in relief as he felt the familiar weight of Voldemort's face against his.

''Don't think this is over, you will not escape me this easily. Not before I have my revenge.'' Each hissed word was cold and sharp as a frozen shard of glass.

Harry gasped at the knife was roughly pulled from his chest and something else plunged into the hole painfully. He wanted to say something, but only bloody splutters came out. With disbelief, he saw that it was Voldemort's wand, the white handle all smudged red. A feeling of warmth spread through his body, starting from the centre and spreading all the way to his tingling fingertips. Something hit his back and he realised that he had been lowered of what was left of Malfoy's expensive couch.

''My Lord!'' someone cried. ''Surely you won't-''

''Don't you dare tell me what I should or shouldn't do, Bella! I made it clear that he was to be killed by my hand! You threw a Muggle weapon at him!''

As the warmth increased, Harry's senses returned. He groaned, realising with sudden horror that in what he had believed to be the throes of death, he'd revealed that he'd been hunting down Horcruxes. All of his chances, the moments of surprise… all gone because he hadn't wanted to leave his enemy disappointed. An enemy that was kneeling in front of the couch Harry lay on, a concentrated expression on his face as he was patching Harry up. ''Why…'' he muttered in disbelief, an angry glare his only answer. ''Don't want to be left without someone to fight?'' he chuckled weakly, the first speculation that came to mind. Voldemort's shoulders tensed and Harry shot up, wincing at the sharp sting it caused. ''Seriously?'' he exclaimed.

''Be quiet, Potter!'' Voldemort hissed, very clearly displeased. Harry's eyes wandered over the other occupants of the room; Narcissa, Draco and Bellatrix all stood still like frozen statues. It appeared that none of them knew how to react to this new turn of events. Neither did Harry and, if he could judge the situation even slightly accurately, the Dark Lord was winging it too. The teen lay back down with a pained grunt, thoughts whirling.

It made sense, in a way. Dumbledore was dead now. The Ministry was in Voldemort's hands. Sure, some Order members remained, but the few that were still active didn't do much damage. Voldemort had always liked instilling fear in others, even as a child he'd done his best to act out his aggression to people he didn't like or whom he though had wronged him. Harry was indeed the Chosen one… just not how everyone had envisioned it.

~And what happens now?~ he carefully asked. Without thinking much about it, he reached out and wiped some of his own blood from Voldemort's cheek. The man froze and gave him a wary look. It was only then that Harry realised he had accidentally spoken Parseltongue. Perhaps Voldemort's face was so serpentine that it triggered Harry's ability. Before, he'd always had to at least envision snakes… Had the Dark Lord even known about Harry being a Parselmouth? He must have had, the trap in Godric's Hollow wouldn't have worked otherwise. Snape most likely told him, or Malfoy…

~I'll have to think about it,~ the man answered. ~I cannot let you leave and continue your path of destruction. I'll have to stop your little friends as well… None can be allowed to put my immortality at risk. I congratulate you, even I could not have foreseen that you would actually manage to damage me in such a way.~ Harry raised his eyebrows at that. Was that… respect he heard in the man's voice? ''It appears I did choose well,'' Voldemort chuckled lightly. ''Narcissa, keep watch over the boy, he is not to leave. Bella, stay away from him, I want no further… unfortunate accidents. I shall return tomorrow.'' He rose, wand sliding out of Harry's chest, the hole closing completely as it did so. Without a further word, he swept out, only making a broad gesture with his wand once more, transforming the room back to its former glory within seconds, a thrum of magic rushing through the air that was stronger than anything Harry had felt before.

The day was spent in a constant state of wariness and anxiety. The Malfoys didn't speak to him, not even when Narcissa brought him food. The soup and bread was probably supposed to be a prisoner's meal, but it was of such great quality that, compared to what he'd had to scavenge in the woods before, it felt like a feast. Food made him think of his friends however, and he desperately hoped that they were out of Voldemort's reach.

What would happen now? He clearly couldn't escape, Dobby had been their only chance of getting through the wards. And now the elf had shown that ability, Harry highly doubted that the Malfoys wouldn't have taken precautions to ensure it couldn't happen again. Through the window, he could see the tall iron gates that surrounded the property… No chance of escape there either, he knew how well-guarded old homes like these were.

''Potter…'' his head shot up, and he narrowed his eyes at the figure that lingered in the doorway, looking very uncomfortable.

''Malfoy,'' he greeted. Honestly, he wasn't sure what to say to the boy. He didn't look anything like the bully he'd been at Hogwarts. Thin and gaunt now, he looked rather unhealthy. Yesterday, he'd at first refused to identify Harry until being prodded further. The boy who hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore…

He thus opted for: ''You look like shit.''

''Better than you, scarhead,'' the other muttered with no real venom behind the words. ''Can I come in?''

''You ask the prisoner? It's your house, Malfoy. Anything in particular you want?''

Draco shuffled inside and closed the door, sitting down on the only chair in the room while Harry still lounged on the bed. ''What happened yesterday… I'm sorry. I don't like Granger, but she didn't deserve-'' Malfoy made a weird noise and looked away, paler than before.

''Never saw someone being tortured before, did you?'' he asked.

Malfoy pressed his lips together for a moment before answering ''I did. I had to, but only ever with the Cruciatus. With magic, not… - I never saw someone cutting another person up like that. It is a lot worse. Potter, you and the Dark Lord-'' he suddenly said, a tad more forcefully, and it was clear that this was what had really been on his mind.

''What about us?''

The other struggled to compose himself. ''What was that yesterday?''

Harry shrugged. ''Honestly? I think that he has been obsessed over killing me for so long that he's afraid to lose one more purpose in life when I really am gone. That's the only explanation I can come up with for him healing me.''

''Well, that too, I more meant the thing with your… your faces. You kind of clung to him.''

''Oh. Er, that was just… our greeting, you know. From the very first meeting, he was always rather strict on etiquette for some reason and we are enemies…'' From Malfoy's face he could read that the Slytherin had no idea what Harry was talking about. ''Different ways of greeting! Great foes or rivals greet like this!'' he spoke, not sure why Malfoy was being so dense. ''You grew up bathing in wizarding rules, surely you know your own culture!''

Malfoy didn't get a chance to answer, for the door swung open and a rather frazzled Narcissa stormed in. ''Draco, there you are! You have to leave, the Dark Lord-''

''No need to fret, Narcissa,'' Voldemort's smooth voice spoke from the darkness of the hallways before he came into view. The woman tried to compose herself, only her eyes looking terrified as she subtly positioned herself in between Draco and the Dark Lord. She might as well have been air, for Voldemort only had eyes for Harry.

''So you're still here, good. I was almost afraid you'd… slipped through the cracks again,'' he spoke with satisfaction.'' He sat down on the bed and pulled Harry closer in their customary greeting. Harry used it to stare directly in the man's eyes and search for any hint of malice or cruelty, any sign of that the man had succeeded in finding and hurting Harry's friends. ''They're still alive for now,'' Voldemort reassured him. ''And will stay that way if you don't create any difficulties. They'll never succeed in their holy mission now,'' he grinned, sharp teeth blinking, less than half an inch from Harry's lips. The pressure against Harry's forehead increased as the man leaned harder against it. ''I made sure of it.''

A movement of muscles told Harry that the man wanted to move away again, so he followed, not wanting to break contact quite yet. So many crazy things had happened that he needed this one, stabilising thing that had stayed the same throughout all those years, even if it was a moment shared with the one who had brought him and the world so much grief. How ironic was it, that Voldemort held his world together at this very moment? Harry didn't know why the other indulged in his unspoken wish, but he was grateful for it. Only once he felt grounded enough, did he lean back again, refusing to look into the ruby eyes that were following his every movement. Instead, Harry glanced at the Malfoys, having forgotten for a moment that they were even there. Both wore perturbed expressions.

''My Lord,'' Narcissa started in a wavering tone. ''Should I…. prepare other rooms for our guest? Better rooms?''

The Dark Lord frowned and mustered her. ''Why? He can be glad to not be in a dungeon at the moment… Why isn't he? You do have cells.''

''Oh… I thought, the mood yesterday suggested… and now…'' she trailed off, her eyes flicking in between Harry and her master. ''I was unsure of your intentions towards the boy,'' she stiffly finished her sentence.

''Are those not clear as day?'' Voldemort sneered at her. ''He is a danger to me, my greatest rival. How could you possibly have missed that? What good is etiquette when none here are educated about it?'' He grew more irritated, his control slipped and Harry's head started hurting again.

The Malfoys exchanged a glance.

''I sincerely apologise, my Lord,'' Narcissa murmured. ''My education must have had a few gaps. If you would please… clear it up for me, I would be grateful.''

''Potter said something about rivals greetings before, mother,'' Draco hastened to say, possibly to prevent the Dark Lord from blowing up completely. Harry really was getting confused now. Draco had been an arrogant bully before and undoubtedly hadn't paid much attention during childhood lessons about proper behaviour. But Narcissa? A Black? Something wasn't adding up here.

''Culture: Courtesy and Chivalry,'' Harry spoke, getting slightly annoyed by the whole situation. It was bad enough that he had been captured with no immediate way out and a Dark Lord hanging the fate of his friends on his behaviour. Couldn't everyone at least be polite enough to not ask stupid questions? ''Maybe you should read it.'' Hogwarts had the book in its collection and after Hermione had told Harry about it, he'd borrowed it once from the library to look up many different customs in the Wizarding World, from 'Dress-like-a-Muggle' day in Wales which promoted intercultural mingling with Muggles, either to woo them or to pick the next sacrifice -the writer had been a bit vague there- to ten ways to convey messages with wand positions to avoid speaking.

''I, for once, wholeheartedly agree with Harry,'' Voldemort spoke, staring at Narcissa and Draco when the woman released a surprised chortle, covering it up miserably with a cough a second later.

''My Lord, surely you jest,'' she spoke nervously, shrinking back a bit as the Dark Lord rose from the bed, magic starting to sizzle in the air, which somehow became smaller and colder. ''I… I mean, the author was a fraud!''

''What?'' the man hissed. Narcissa opened her mouth and looked desperately at her son, who seemed utterly lost for words. 'Explain!''

She took a small gulp of air and smoothed the crinkles in her robes. ''Well, the book was written in… around the 1860's if I remember correctly.''

''1891,'' Voldemort corrected her, annoyed.

''Yes, that. The book was met with mixed reception at first, and then landed much critique for trying to push its own agenda, describing rites and customs that didn't exist at all, which the author wished to create. Many pictures in it featured members of the same sex greeting each other in various ways, and while that wasn't too much of a scandal anymore by that time, it appeared that the author had gotten in a major fight years back with one of her crushes. To still incite physical contact, she made up a custom of a 'rival's kiss', whereas nothing of the sort existed, in the hope that it would become wide-spread by people who had read the book and took it at face value. Not many copies of the book remain nowadays due to this.'' Narcissa cleared her throat, looking highly uncomfortable. Harry gaped at her, then looked at Voldemort in alarm, who was absolutely livid, judging by the pain in Harry's scar.

''Obliviate!'' the Dark Lord snarled, the faces of both Malfoys becoming blank for a moment before they marched out the door, which slammed close behind them.

''I… I also didn't know,'' was the first thing Harry said.

''We shall never talk about this again, Potter,'' Voldemort hissed. ''Never!''

''So, he let you… go?'' Ron asked, looking at Harry as if he had grown a second head. They all sat together in the living room of Shell cottage, drinking tea. Only Mr Ollivander and Griphook had stayed upstairs, and Dobby was preparing some food for all of them in the kitchen. He'd just finished telling them of his stay at the manor, although he'd left out a few details, including the exact reason why Voldemort had suddenly become incredibly angry.

Harry still refused to meet his friends' eyes, staring at the wand he held. It was a spare one that Mr Ollivander had given him before, since his own was still broken and the one he'd had on him at Malfoy manor had been taken away. ''Threw me out is a better term for it,'' he muttered. ''He was pretty unstable. For a moment, I was so certain he'd off me then and there.''

''And then he didn't. Again.''

Harry sighed. ''Not that it matters. Our scheme is out, he knows what we were after, he's bound to have already gathered the remaining Horcruxes and increased their security.''

''That still means we are just as far as before,'' Hermione spoke in encouragement. ''We only knew about the whereabouts of the cup, but imagine. If he moved it out of Gringotts, the best-guarded place in this country, isn't that only good for us? Plus, we couldn't find out anything about the others before, so we lose nothing if he moves them someplace else.''

Harry shook his head. ''It only worked because we had the element of surprise. Sure, he took precautions so no-one could reach them, but now he knows we actively are hunting for them? No chance.''

''There is always something you can do,'' Bill spoke, having been silent during the entire conversation, merely listening. Harry hadn't minded. Now he'd been so stupid as to let such an important piece of info slip, they needed all help they could get. Dumbledore had trusted them to keep it a secret, but that was all in shambles now. ''Think of what your best possible option could be and pursue that as quickly as you can to avoid time running out on you.''

''Hogwarts,'' Harry said instantly. Ron and Hermione exchanged a desperate look. ''No, Look. I know we wanted to go to Gringotts before, but I am absolutely certain that it's a bad idea. The Goblins there don't care about the current leader of Wizarding Britain killing some intruders. At Hogwarts, we have support from students and teachers alike.''

''There is no evidence for any Horcrux even having been there in the past!'' Hermione exclaimed.

Harry let out a frustrated noise. ''There has to be. It was the only home he ever had! Most of the Horcruxes are related to the Founders, of course he'd hide one there. And even if it's not anymore, even if he moved it yesterday, the teachers should have noticed something. If he visited there yesterday, then we can be sure of it and… and perhaps find a clue about its current whereabouts! Who knows, perhaps he's so confident about his control over Hogwarts that he moved all of them there!'' he exclaimed, getting more optimistic again. ''What are our other options? As Bill said, we need to act quickly.''

Having no other choice, the others reluctantly went along with his plan.

He hadn't been wrong, of that Harry was sure now. If it was for better or worse remained to be seen. Many members of the DA were searching the castle now, he'd been able to inform McGonagall, who unfortunately didn't know much. Voldemort had been there yesterday indeed, but he was at Hogwarts every week for inspections, and the visit had been on his regular day and time. It didn't have to mean anything. Not so easily discouraged, Harry kept going, grasping onto straws. Luna thought the object they were looking for might be Ravenclaw's diadem, which didn't help much when he found out it had been lost for centuries.

Wouldn't that just be something for Voldemort though? To find a treasure that so many people had sought for ages and turn it into a mere vessel to hold the man's soul? Nearly all other Horcruxes had been similar, pieces of incredible historical worth, belonging to the other Founders. But even if it was the diadem… where had it been hidden? And was it still here?

Filled with doubts, he nonetheless followed Luna to the Ravenclaw tower to get a look at Ravenclaw's statue. Knowing how it looked was better than having nothing at all. Or it would have been, had it not led him straight towards one of the Death Eaters.

''Quicker than excepted,'' Alecto Carrow spoke, blocking the exit. ''My Lord said he'd expect you to come here somewhere this week.''

They ran as quickly as possible after Luna stunned the man, hiding under the invisibility cloak Harry had brought. He gasped in pain a few times as blurry images swam in his mind. Voldemort knew now, Carrow had touched the Mark only for a second, but it had been enough. Having apparently expected Harry's move, he was also coming fast.

''Run into the opposite direction!'' he urged Luna. ''I don't have much time. Go!''

There was no time left at all. He considered informing professor McGonagall once more, then rejected the idea. Nothing could be done to up the school security in time. Perhaps if he hadn't blurted out his goal before, the Dark Lord would first have checked the locations of the Horcruxes. Now, Harry was pretty sure he'd done that yesterday already, and came straight here. The only thing left to do was to fight, without any of his friends being hurt if he could prevent it.

Harry started sprinting on his own. He had to get out of the castle, to a place where no bystanders could be hurt. The Gryffindor practically flew down flights of staircases, until he finally reached the entrance hall and pushed the doors open with all of his might. He stumbled through the gap and looked up, freezing.

Voldemort was already standing there, waiting calmly, wand in hand.

''Saving me the trouble of searching for you, Harry? So eager to face me again? It has barely been a day,'' the man mocked. ''I knew that you crave attention, but this is a bit much.''

''I can't let you hurt anyone else,'' Harry replied, letting the oak doors fall shut with a bang.

The man removed his cloak and folded it up calmly. ''Why would I? Hogwarts belongs to me. The few pests that still cry out for Dumbledore or you will fall silent soon enough. Even the teachers have bowed down to my regime. I must ask why you thought coming here was a good idea. I had expected it eventually but… the move is rather desperate. As I told you before, you won't succeed in damaging any other parts of my soul. None are here today.'' Harry's heart sank at the rather chastising words.

''One is now,'' he said, acting braver than he felt. ''You came. Last time I destroyed your body, it took you thirteen years to return. Thirteen more would be plenty of time to hunt down the remains.''

''Yes, Dumbledore should have used that opportunity when he had it,'' Voldemort spoke. ''It won't take thirteen years again, even if I perish in the future.'' He let the words sink in for a moment. ''Also, you sound rather confident that you can defeat me today. The first time was luck and circumstance.''

Harry shook his head. ''No, it wasn't.''

Voldemort straightened, and Harry finally had the feeling to have the man's attention. ''I know the prophecy now. Dumbledore showed me. I am destined to destroy you, and if it wouldn't have happened because of my mother, it would have happened in a different way. You know this, it is why you went after me in the first place, because I am the only person on this world who can cause your demise. It will happen again and again. I am through running from you.''

''What fiery words…'' Slowly and deliberately, Voldemort took a few steps back and lifted his wand, making a slightly mocking bow. ''I look forward to a duel where you are not hiding behind headstones.''

Harry gulped and tried to mentally ready himself. He hadn't been able to say his goodbyes to anyone. His friends were still searching the castle, blissfully unaware of Voldemort's arrival.

This was it, then? They would duel here, in front of the door to the real home they'd both ever had? Was this the last day he would spend on this earth? Should he die -and who was he kidding, even two years of training made him in no way as experienced as Voldemort-, would Hermione and Ron continue their task? His only hope was to do as much damage as he possibly could.

He had nothing to lose, only his own life. A life he'd been prepared to lose countless times already.

Trembling all over, he walked down the last steps and planted his feet firmly in the dirt, watching, waiting for Voldemort to make a move. He himself was too inexperienced to be the one to start flinging spells. The other man stood frozen, wand raised but not making any moves. Harry bit his lip, gaze wandering to Voldemort's forehead. This would be the very first encounter they'd have without their greeting. The Dark Lord had said only shortly ago that he was not allowed to mention it anymore… but it didn't feel right.

Usually, he could sense Voldemort's strong emotions. Anger, fear, elation even. It was harder to make out what the other felt now. There was no pain in his scar, instead an irritating itch. He heard other noises and risked a glance towards it source, seeing faces in the windows of the castle, students pressed up against the glass to watch. They'd been noticed, then. This would have to go quickly if he didn't want anyone to get involved…

''For old time's sake?'' Harry asked. ''One of us will die today, what good are appearances?''

''If this is a trick-''

''No tricks. There is nothing anymore, nothing but you and I. No aces up my sleeve, no magical items or a pet phoenix to save me last minute…'' Harry thought of the snitch that Dumbledore had left him, a snitch with a clue that he'd never been able to solve. There was so much he still didn't know, and probably never would. Voldemort had not found the Deathstick that Mr Ollivander had told Harry about, making his Horcruxes a priority, so Harry would never know how much of an influence that would have had. Dumbledore had never received revenge, for Snape, the traitor, was Headmaster now still. Several Horcruxes were somewhere out there, out of Harry's reach…

In this whirl of uncertainties, he wanted the one thing that he was familiar with. The one thing that gave him validation of why he was here. He walked towards Voldemort, limbs feeling as if someone had poured lead in them. Harry's arm dropped to the side, he could waste power later… later.

Their heads met, far gentler than ever before. Harry suppressed a sob that rose up in his throat. No matter the outcome, it would all be over after today. It all came down to them. No clashing armies or impenetrable fortresses, just them. Just Harry.

''I will need to kill you today.'' Voldemort's whisper was barely audible and sounded full of regret. ''I cannot avoid it any longer. You kept true to your promise, becoming far more dangerous than I could have imagined. The boy who stumbled on the stairs while trying to hide a stone from me is long gone… Yet you cannot hold up to me in a duel, Harry, we both know it. This country is mine, this castle is mine… I'll give you one last chance to give up and let it all go. Accept my victory, tell your friends to stand down and surrender. That is the only way you might live.''

''I can't,'' he answered, throat closing up. ''As long as you rule, you'll keep killing. I've seen your Muggleborn registry, I've seen the Dementors patrolling the streets, the gloom and destruction that spreads even across the Muggle world. You're poison.''

''I am a purge,'' Voldemort whispered, arms coming up to hold him gently. ''I shall choke the weeds and burn them down, so the worthy can blossom. If you could only see my vision, Harry. You could have been great.''

They broke apart with the greatest difficulty on both parts. They raised their wands. Harry hesitated a second too long as he caught ruby eyes that were full of an emotion he'd never imagined could be there…

The Killing Curse hit him with full force.

Steam rolled lazily over the white, clean platform where three figures were watching each other.

''I couldn't make a difference,'' Harry mournfully spoke, looking down on the strange baby that he was rocking in his arms. Its skin was red and raw, and it wailed as if in constant pain. ''Not a single bit.'' He raised his head, meeting Dumbledore's solemn stare. ''I couldn't make him mortal like you wanted, I screwed up completely. I truly believed that I-'' his voice broke and his hand, which had been stroking the Horcrux's bald head, stilled. ''I thought this Prophecy was real. That I could defeat him, I depended on it. I couldn't land even a single hit, what kind of pathetic duel was that?''

''You made all the difference,'' Dumbledore kindly spoke, sitting down on the bench next to Harry, only throwing the baby a wary look. ''Not all wars are won with violence. Some are won with love. You aren't dead yet, why do you think that is?''

Harry blinked, thrown off by the questions, tightening his hold on the Horcrux. ''Because of this?'' he hesitantly asked. ''I can't die until the piece of him in me dies first?''

''Partially, but not quite. Had Voldemort had the chance to strike you down in your first year, you very likely would have perished. Usually, a Horcrux dies with its vessel, not in its stead.''

''Then why…''

''It protected you, Harry. And it did so because you performed a larger miracle than I could have ever hoped for. Oh, I had plans, so many plans for all kinds of eventualities. I planned for you to find all the Deathly Hallows so you could master Death long enough to triumph Voldemort's twisted immortality. I planned for you to kill all of his Horcruxes before he could even find out about it. I even planned to have you realise that you'd have to sacrifice yourself without a fight to kill that last Horcrux… None of my plans were as grand as what transpired.''

Harry was at a loss for words, staring dumbfoundedly at Dumbledore, a man he'd trusted so deeply that he'd followed his instructions even in the face of death. ''What was in the snitch?'' he asked. It was such a small detail, but he had a feeling that this was his only chance to find out, and questions distracted him from growing uselessly angry at the Headmaster he'd regarded as a mentor this whole time.

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head, silver hairs waving in the slight wind that was present. ''Unimportant now. I never could let go of my past. Bury that snitch Harry, no-one needs it now.''

Trying to hide his disappointment over that non-answer, Harry spoke: ''I still don't understand what I supposedly have done. The hunt for the Horcruxes was incomplete and I will never be able to destroy the remaining ones. Even if this one dies now, the one I didn't know about, there is still the cup, the diadem, Nagini… who knows, he might make more.''

''The Horcruxes will disappear on their own. The only way to heal a soul is deep, intense remorse. You managed to make him feel that.''

''I did?''

''Harry, Tom was never loved. This is a harsh truth, but it is the truth nonetheless. His father rejected him, his mother blamed him, he always kept people at such a distance that he made not a single friend. His followers held more fear than respect and even the ones who agreed fanatically with his beliefs, like the Lestranges, were too lost in extreme obsession to show any form of love. He always despised the emotion in others, yet craved for nothing more.''

''But I don't love him either,'' Harry protested, feeling uncomfortable.

Dumbledore only hummed at that in a way that Harry felt like he was missing something. ''Love has many forms,'' the man finally said. ''He created his own rival, held onto that prophecy as if it was the most powerful thing in the world. He didn't even know the full lines and still managed to cling to it as if he did. He created his equal that night in you, and treated you with as much respect and care as he would have given himself in the years after. When you started to reciprocate that, the first seed was planted. Followers may have kissed the hem of his robes, but you were the only one to ever give him a comforting touch. Now, he can't live without you anymore, and his Horcrux recognised that. He regrets your death so deeply that he'd rather let a piece of himself die than to lose you. All subconsciously of course, but it is his own will.''

''So he… so he loves me now, is what you are saying?'' Harry exclaimed, standing up, still clinging to the baby in his arms. It stretched out a small, claw-like hand that caught a strand of hair and held onto it tightly. At a loss of what to even think, Harry stilled.

''As much as he can, yes,'' Dumbledore simply said. ''I also believe he isn't the only one in this who has feelings. You experienced love before of course, far different, perhaps more intense.'' Harry screwed his eyes shut. This couldn't be. He loved Ron and Hermione. He had loved Sirius. He loved Ginny. What he and Voldemort had shared was… was so far from any love he knew that it barely counted as such!

But he'd still looked forward to it, he realised with a shock. To an extent, he'd trusted Voldemort. The way they had embraced as rivals, even when based upon a lie neither of them had known about, had become a stone in Harry's life that was irreplaceable. Even before this last duel, it had been a relief to sink into the man's arms and share that moment.

He released a desperate cry.

''Love can be difficult, my boy,'' Dumbledore continued when Harry was done screaming. ''It is never as we expect it to be. I too loved a man who wasn't worthy of it. In the end, I denied all and destroyed us both. Your story need not end the way that mine did. Love can heal the hairiest heart,'' he smiled. ''If we only know how to give it.''

''How could I?'' the teen whispered. ''How could I even start to explain, to anyone?''

''Perhaps you can't. You know better than most how judging people are, the slightest misstep and the public sends poisoned letters. Should that stop you? Come, Harry, leave the Horcrux here. You have a train to catch. We both do.''

On either side of the station, a train very much alike the Hogwarts express rolled in. ''So this… can take me back?'' Harry asked with uncertainty, placing the Horcrux on the bench, wishing he'd have a cloak or something to cover the poor thing with.

''Back or forwards,'' Dumbledore nodded. ''I will not force you to go along with my plans once again, I can only give you advice, and I just did. Join me on my ride, and you might be reunited with your parents and other loved ones. Take the other and have one more adventure before the final one.''

The older man crossed the platform with a spring in his step, the doors of the train silently sliding open as he stepped through.

Harry hesitated, then made his choice.

Please read and review!
-sorry for the open ending, I'd like to leave Harry's decision and the consequences of that to the imagination.-
I hope you enjoyed reading this little story. I just couldn't rest this weekend until I had it written down after seeing that gorgeous rival greeting. We should bring that custom back haha.

xx Elfinmyth