Author's Notes–Hey peoples! This is a one-shot that I felt like writing since I'm bored and didn't feel like studying as I've been doing that for the whole day…and no, I'm still not dead. If you want to know my poor reason for not updating regularly, check my profile…

Oh! A fellow writer, Xelena has asked me to tell all you SLASH readers out there that she has two accounts. The second is under "Aurora Matsuei." Personally, I've been too busy to check out her stories, but hey give it a shot! After all, if it's good, you've gained a good story and if it could use work, then she would get good critique!

Also, the characters might be a tad (or a lot depending on how strict you are) out of character!

P.S. I hope you cried!

Disclaimer–All rights and ownership of the "Harry Potter" universe belongs strictly to J.K. Rowling. I do not own/make money off of this story.

WARNING! THERE IS SOME SLASH IN THIS STORY…WHICH MEANS MALE/MALE RELATIONSHIPS! THIS STORY CONTAINS LVHP (LORD VOLDEMORT/HARRY POTTER) SO IF THAT PAIRING FREAKS YOU OUT OR ANYTHING…LEAVE! DO NOT FLAME ME IF YOU ARE COMPLAINING ABOUT THAT!

End of a Destiny

"If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. And if they don't, then they never were."

–Kahlil Gibran

Voldemort slumped ungracefully against his chair. Had any of his Death Eaters been there, he would have never showed that moment of weakness, but as he was alone, it was alright.

The meeting ending about five minutes ago had gone well…better than well actually.

Two days ago, there was an attack at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One tenth of the school was dead and one third of the remaining students were wounded before the Death Eaters left. Voldemort should have been happy…ecstatic even, yet why did he feel empty inside?

Actually, that wasn't true.

He's been feeling empty and forlorn ever since the incident about a year ago.

A loud crack drew his attention. The Dark Lord snapped to attention and pointed his thirteen inch yew wand at the intrusion, even though he knew perfectly well who it was. After all, only one person could get into his Fidelius protected base. His Death Eaters attending a meeting would have to apparate by touching their Dark Marks, which would alert Voldemort to their entrance. He had only shared the information of the hideout with one person.

"What are you doing here!" he demanded the hooded figure standing seven feet before him. Voldemort could see that the medium sized figure was robed in midnight black and was not armed with a wand.

Reaching a pale right hand up, the figure slid back the large hood, which had been obscuring their face.

"Tom," the figure whispered yet it was heard clearly in the silent room.

The only sign that the Dark Lord heard that statement was the slight tremble in his wand hand before the yew stick was lowered yet the hand that held the weapon had not relinquished its hold.

"Potter!" he snarled out the name while staring into the emerald eyes of the seventh year Hogwarts student.

Voldemort could see that the once tanned cheery boy was now gone and replaced by a pale sullen face. However, the eyes were still the same. The emerald orbs still held an unusual brilliance in them except that it seemed darker and more tired, somehow, than a year ago.

"Come crawling back have you! Or are you here to kill me?" he demanded.

A slight upturn of the lips was his response before Potter replied silently, "Neither."

"Then what are you doing here!" he demanded once again.

"I came to ask a favor," replied Potter. Voldemort frowned internally. Potter had been extremely silent in his responses. Had something happened?

"What!" the Dark Lord snapped out.

"I came to ask for you to kill me."

A long moment of silence lapsed between the two. Of all the answers in the world, that had not been it. The Dark Lord was stunned. What had happened that the boy would want to be killed?

"Why?"

"You've heard the reports about the attack on Hogwarts correct?" Har–no Potter started. Voldemort nodded and the raven haired teen continued, "I assume you've heard that Ron and Hermione are dead then?"

The Dark Lord frowned. He had not heard that. Of course he knew that saying a tenth of the population would take time, but the Mudblood and the Weasley boy would have been important information.

"Judging by your reaction, you had not known that then," continued Potter quietly.

Curse the boy! He was always a closed book to everyone. No one could read his facial expressions, yet his mask always crumbled around Harr–no Potter!

"So you want to join your friends in death, huh Potter! How Gryffindor of you," Voldemort snapped out. His short temper had a reason after all. He was talking to the man who had walked out on him last year.

"That's partly the reason. The other is that there's nothing left living for," the green eyed wizard replied calmly, "Sirius died two years ago… Ron and Hermione are dead… and my parents have been dead for almost eighteen years."

"What about your precious Order? Dumbledore?"

To his surprise, Potter smiled bitterly.

"You were right, you know, the Order was using me to end this war. I've had enough of it and just want it all to end. In some ways, their methods were worst than yours. They give you hope and friendship only to use it as your weakness…did you know that Dumbledore assigned me classes on resisting the Cruciatus Curse with Moody and Snape last year? Of course, the only way for that was to build a higher tolerance of pain over time," he finished bitingly.

The Dark Lord was surprised. Part of his surprise was that he seethed inside. A burning fury overcame him to suddenly hunt down Alastor Moody and Severus Snape and torture them days on end.

"But that doesn't matter," he continued, "so will you kill me Tom?"

Too shocked to say anything else, all Voldemort could answer was, "Why me?"

Potter smiled at him sadly, "You were the one to save me Tom…you gave me life, you gave me my destiny…it is only fitting if you take it all away. Also, Dumbledore could see that with the death of my friends, I'll sink into depression and attempt to take my own life. Therefore, he placed a spell on me preventing me from self harm."

Voldemort remembered that incident of course. How could he not? It was the day that turned his life around. After a planned attack at Potter's relatives' house, he was shocked at the sight before him. Potter was a thread from death. The Dark Lord could have walked away and his foe would have died yet he had saved him. The Dark Lord had healed his nemesis and kept him safe.

Potter took a step forward…and another, until he was an arm's length away from the Darkest Lord of the century.

Voldemort just sat there, looking into the eyes of the raven haired boy.

Reaching out his right hand, Potter slowly stroked Voldemort's left cheek almost lovingly. The hands passed over the smooth marble skin of a man with appearing in his late twenties.

The Dark Lord leaned slightly into the caress that he had missed. Sighing softly, he closed his blood red eyes and focused on the loving warm touch.

"Do you still remember about us Tom?" Potter whispered, "Or have you forgotten it all?"

He had remembered, oh how he'd remembered. Voldemort still could feel a ghost of everything in his memories. The touches, the loving and passionate kisses, the warmth, the soft body in his arms when he woke up…he remembered everything.

Suddenly, Potter stopped his stroking and a slight riffle from cloth told Voldemort that he had dropped his arm to his side. Despite his will, Voldemort found that he missed the warm touch on his cheek. The hole in his chest felt more noticeable now than ever. The emptiness… he could feel it so much more, now that the temporary plug had been pulled out.

Potter stepped back slightly, but he was still within reach.

"I respect your choice should you decline my wish at death. My life will end in a month anyways. I just want to speed up the process. Selfish, isn't it?" he said with a quirk of the lips.

The elder wizard's ruby eyes snapped open at the word "end" as he stared at Potter in horror.

"What?" he croaked out finally.

"A spell hit me at the Hogwarts attack," Potter replied with a humorless smile, "I was defending Ron and Hermione when Malfoy hit me with it and then killed them." Potter closed his eyes at the pain and Voldemort's heart clenched at the sight.

All of a sudden, Voldemort watched as Potter turned away from him and coughed violently into his hand. Seconds passed before the attack eased and Potter moved his hand away. From behind, the Dark Lord could see Potter plunged his other hand into his robes to draw out a wand. With sharp ears, the elder wizard could hear the muttered cleaning spell before the wand was returned to the pocket.

Despite the cleaning spell, Voldemort could still smell the sharp bitter tang in the air from a smell he knew all too well…the smell of blood.

"Harry?" he asked softly and almost fearfully as the boy turned around. The Dark Lord would have cursed himself for sounding so weak had he not been so worried about Harry.

"Side effect of the curse," he explained.

"What curse?" he asked puzzled. Out of all the hexes and curses he knew, only two had that effect of the person. However, his dread grew when he remembered that of the two, only one was curable.

"Merlin's Doom," whispered the reply.

Had he not been sitting, the ruby eyed wizard was sure he would have collapsed.

Merlin's Doom was a curse that legally should have the same standings as an Unforgivable. However, as not many knew about it, the spell was simply labeled as the Dark Arts.

The spell caused pain to the victim for a month, until which time the person died. Over damage on the blood tissues cause bleeding when the person coughs, which is triggered by large emotions.

Minutes passed in silence before it was broken by Harry.

"Tell me in one week your answer. Like I said, I'll respect it if you say no. I'm sure that Malfoy would love to poison me. Dumbledore was careless. He might have prevented me from killing myself, but not making the poison and giving it to others to give to me."

"Harry…" Voldemort whispered.

Closing the distance between the two, Harry reached out and traced the thin lips of the older man before replying, "I thought to return to you last year you know…but I thought 'Why would he want me again? After all I walked out on him' I guess it's better now then. If you never got that close to me, my death won't hurt as much…"

Inwardly Voldemort screamed 'You're wrong!' He knew that the empty hole inside will be torn away again. It would hurt just as much, if not more because he now knew he had a chance to be with Harry all those months, and now it was over.

"It's time for me to leave I guess," Harry said quietly. The emerald eyed wizard leant down slowly, giving the other time to pull away should he wish it, and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before moving away.

A spark of warmth tingled throughout the Dark Lord's entire body. The quick kiss was all the more dear to him after the year's absence. He thought it ironic that the muggles were right…for absence does make the heart fonder.

"One week Tom," he whispered before backing off. Voldemort watched in silence as Harry pulled the large hood over his head and disapparated with a crack!

The week passed much too quickly in Voldemort's opinion. He passed the week with finding Moody, Malfoy, and Snape to punish in the severest way he could. Their torture only ended on Friday as the three passed onto the next world. It was then that Voldemort, the Dark Lord, decided what to do as Harry was arriving the next day.

Meeting in the same room, a small wooden table was set to the side with two golden chalices on it.

He sat and heard about an hour later the telltale crack of apparition.

The Dark Lord could see that the week had a bad impact on his lover. The shadows under his eyes were more noticeable now than ever and he briefly wondered if Harry had been getting by the week with disguising charms.

For a moment both looked at the other with love in their eyes until Harry spoke, "Have you chosen?"

"I have," Voldemort replied with a hand gesture at the two cups.

"Two?" Harry asked nonplussed.

He smiled at the younger wizard.

"I'm joining you."

Harry's eyes widened in horror before snapping out, "NO!"

The large outburst caused another coughing fit to come. Voldemort's heart clenched at seeing his love in pain and there was nothing he could do.

"Why?" Harry whispered once he gained his voice.

"The last year's been pointless to me," he explained, "There's nothing left worth living for like you said. Also, I remember a promise I made. I will go everywhere with you…remember?"

As Harry nodded, Voldemort stepped forward and caressed his love's silky smooth cheek.

The moment was punctured when the Dark Lord asked, "Shall we?"

Harry nodded as the pair walked to the table.

Before he could grasp the chalice, Voldemort turned around and pulled Harry into a searing kiss. It was unlike any of their other kisses as this one had a final feeling into it. Where others were fast, rough, and passionate, this was soft, slow, and more lovingly than ever before.

Minutes later, both pulled away before grabbing the cups. Voldemort grasped the younger man's hand and disapparated them both to a hidden room where their bodies would lay until the end of the earth.

Looking lovingly into the eyes of the other, both fed their lover the drink.

Feeling the churning build inside of him, Voldemort smiled into Harry's eyes. He was dying yet he felt happier than ever before. Harry had returned to him, and they would be together… forever.

BLAHS…SAPPY ENDING I KNOW, BUT REVIEW OK? I WAS BORED!