[HP] Crack

Harry took a step back, staring at him in disbelief, cold all over.He couldn't believe they were backing away again, their hard-fought step wasted.

"Do you think I'm running away?" He held the corner of his mouth with difficulty, "You think I won't come back after I go back?—Damn, do you think I'm this kind of person?"

"You're not, but I don't believe in the Order of the Phoenix, Harry! I've dealt with them much longer than you!" Voldemort looked equally annoyed, pacing up and down the living room.Harry stared at his back, breathing more rapidly.

"But—but we should try—try, Tom! How will you know if you don't try? You won't lose me. . . . My soul is yours forever, you know."

His voice dropped, as if falling into soft feathers.

The man turned around abruptly and looked straight at him.Harry didn't avoid his gaze, it was like an invitation, he walked towards him, faster and faster, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him into the sofa.With a swipe of his fingernails, he unbuttoned his jacket, and his hand pressed against his chest, slowly slid down to his lower abdomen, and pulled the fabric away.

Harry took a breath, and subconsciously wanted to stop—he wasn't in the mood to do this with him right now, he wasn't quite used to the feeling yet—the other's desire was electrifying in his soul.His hand trembled, being held back by Voldemort.

"Souls?" he murmured, stroking softly, and Harry sucked in his breath, "Not just souls...but Harry, you got it wrong. Peace talks are out of the question, politicians looking for the safest solution, angry People just want revenge."

Harry wanted to say something in rebuttal, but he could only reply vaguely, with an unbearable low moan from his mouth.They stopped talking, immersed in a full and high-frequency bond.He pressed him and kissed him over and over again, as if trying to suck his soul out. Harry couldn't breathe a few times and tried to escape, but he grabbed him back relentlessly.What was even more unbearable was the torment inside his body, the force of pressing him into the depths of the soft sofa cushion time and time again, Harry hugged the pillow in his arms, trembling all over.He was turned over, and the man was lying on top of him and staring at him, the open black robe hanging on his arm, his fingertips tracing his chin.Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again.He was almost swooning over their union, but it wasn't what he wanted.

"Harry..." He planted a kiss on his forehead, like a ritual.Startled, Harry pushed him away and sat up, his arms slightly weak.

"No, it's not that...Answer me, Tom, you're not going to make peace, are you?"

"You know very well."

Harry tightened his grip on the sofa cushion, forced a smile, and said, "I see."

He paused for a second, slowly picked up the robe from the ground and put it on indiscriminately, slowly hanging down his sore and limp legs.A man's voice came from behind: "You don't understand, Harry."

"I understand you, Voldemort." He stood up staggeringly, leaning on the arm of the sofa, and glanced back at him, "I understand, you know... I've always wanted to know you better, and I wanted to find someone other than what Dumbledore told you. Another side of me. But I now think he was right."

Voldemort's expression twisted slightly.

"It's Dumbledore again...he's still haunting him even after he's dead, isn't he?"

His voice sounded cold in the darkness, and Harry straightened his collar nonchalantly, not looking at him.

"He died, if you insist on mentioning this, yes, he did die," he said, "...you gave me a path that I had to walk, a beginning and an end...and he brought the whole process."

Harry raised his head and walked towards the stairwell without looking sideways, his back not trembling in the slightest.

"I understand you, Voldemort... No matter what, our souls are together."

Harry carried his clothes to the guest room at the end of the corridor, and sat on the bed in a daze.The bed in the guest room was not that soft, very cold and full of moonlight.He took off his glasses, stared at his palms for a moment, and buried his face in them.

It's all his fault, he thought.It was he who brought things to this point little by little.Originally, they didn't have to suffer so much. Originally, it was just a matter of killing or being killed. He used to think that killing was already the most difficult thing, but now he realized that it was a relief.

If they can go back to their previous undying relationship, he just needs to think about how to defeat him and end this nightmare, instead of struggling in the gray area between black and white...Harry can't say which one he wants, He's gone too far, there's no getting back.

He changed into pajamas, turned off the light, and lay straight on the bed.There was a dim yellow light coming from nowhere on the ceiling, and he had an inexplicable urge to cry.But he hadn't cried for a long time.When that day comes, which side will he be on?Oh, it was a no-brainer, he couldn't have betrayed his friend... If Voldemort insisted on going to war, there was only one way for him to go.If he must kill someone he loves, he will end the bond between them himself, no matter how.Harry thought about it masochistically, his heart ached and he couldn't breathe.

He tossed and turned and couldn't fall asleep, thinking about what that person might be doing now, couldn't help feeling the connection between them, touched a point, then retracted it quickly, and turned over sullenly.

Go to sleep, he thought drowsily, one day...

Harry didn't sleep deeply, and he always felt that someone was walking around, and the footsteps hit the eardrums.He wanted to sit up and see who it was, but he seemed to be haunted by a nightmare and could only struggle in vain.In the middle of the night, it seemed that someone pushed open the door and stood in front of the bed, looking at him without saying a word.They faced each other in silence, separated by an invisible abyss.The man's slender hands slowly stroked his hair, and he felt comfortable and tender, curling up in a ball under the quilt.After a while, I don't know how long, he left, and the room fell into silence again.

Harry struggled in the dream, he wanted to keep the man, let his hand continue to wander in his hair; he wanted him to continue to look at him, even if he said nothing... He frowned and struggled He was breathing heavily, and finally sat up all at once, gasping for breath, staring blankly at the wall.The room was immersed in the night, empty, as if it was just his ridiculous fantasy.He wiped the sweat off his nose, took a breath, and got off the bed.

The corridor was as dark as the room, and Harry didn't turn on the light or light his wand, and groped his way to the room by feel.

He stood in front of the door for a few seconds, a gust of cold wind blew through his back, the chill rushed up, and all the confused courage was gone.After a while of mental construction, he pushed open the door gently.

To his surprise, Voldemort's bed glowed with a spherical glow of fluorescent blue light.He was originally facing away from him, but when he turned around, the beam of light shone on him, casting a blue shadow on the robe.

"Uh...you didn't sleep?"

"What do you want to do while I'm sleeping?"

"...No." Harry swallowed, held back the phrase "I'm just here to see", and stood stiffly at the door for a while, as if he had developed an unusual interest in his toes.After a few seconds, he raised his head and cleared his throat: "That's right, I want to express my attitude."

Voldemort glanced at him, switched on the light, extinguished his wand, and sat upright looking at him.

"What do you want to say?" he said coldly.

Harry's eyes were sore from the sudden bright light, he rubbed it, and the words came to his mouth and swallowed again.He hesitated for a while, but still mustered up his courage: "I will not be on your side, Tom."

He paused, and Voldemort did not move, still staring at him expressionlessly.

"I think you should have expected it," he continued. "You know very well that your behavior is embarrassing me. I can't give up my friend...but I have no right to ask you to do anything. So I tell you This, um—I just felt compelled to say it. Since you didn't keep it from me, I should, of course."

Getting the words out was easier than Harry had imagined, and he'd expected either he'd be cut off, or Voldemort would cut him off angrily, but neither happened.His stomach hurts a little - maybe not a little, but at least he's able to stand upright on his own without having to show pain.

Voldemort's thin lips moved into a sarcastic sneer.

"So this is your attitude... You have been thinking about it all night, and you came to tell me this in the middle of the night?" His voice was cold, "Do you think you are safe and I won't do anything to you?"

"I didn't think so - I know you might lock me up and kill me, but I'm going to tell you anyway," said Harry, trying to sound confident, "you told me the truth too Didn't you? You could have kept it from me and pretended to cooperate with me, but you didn't. I couldn't agree with you, but I'm glad you didn't lie to me, really."

He paused, bit his lip, and walked slowly to the bed.Voldemort's eyes were fixed on him, moving with him.Harry looked at him tenderly and whispered, "I love you, Tom."

He bent down and kissed him on the cheek, leaned on his shoulder, and closed his eyes.A heavy sense of relief rose from his heart, which relieved the stomach pain a bit.

Let it stop here, he thought, if this is a novel, or a movie, let it stop here—stop here.