A Snake Named Voldemort

Chapter 8

The next morning found Harry still curled up with his feet at the headboard and his head at the foot of the bed. Draped lazily around his arms and neck was Voldemort, pressed up into Harry's body heat, perhaps instinctually and perhaps consciously. Rumpled playing cards were skewed all around the bed, and some had fallen to the floor.

Voldemort woke somewhat disoriented but strangely calm despite the confusion. He felt...warm, relaxed, and most notably, safe, almost...protected. He lazily flicked out his tongue to taste the air, and twitched when the appendage hit something warm that tasted like sweet blush wine. He tilted his head to get a better view of the startling close object, feeling a stab of surprise when his eye met the gaze of a soulful green one.

:This is cozy,: Harry drawled, but otherwise seemed unconcerned by the arraignment as he adjusted his crooked spectacles. He yawned and stretched the kinks from the awkward sleeping position, inadvertently brushing up against Voldemort's long, slender body every now and then, eliciting that odd sensation in the snake's nerves that caused his muscles to relax.

Shaking the opposing emotions that rose from the close contact and realization he had spent the night nestled against his enemy, Voldemort hissed, :I am not a teddy bear, Potter. Do try and resist next time you wish to use me as such.:

It was irritating but not unexpected when Harry only grinned at him. :Aww, but you use me as perch and a transportation device, don't you think it's only fair?:

:Life's not fair, remember?: Voldemort refused to consider the fact that part of him hadn't minded continuing the daytime arrangement they had. As a snake, human body heat during the winter proved to be an exceptional means to stay the ideal temperature, and at night the heating charm wasn't always as satisfying as natural heat.

Once again, the boy wizard seemed to effortlessly brush off what was intended to at least cause a slight amount of irritation. Oh, how he hated being trapped in this ineffective form. With a slight shake of his head and a crooked smile in Voldemort's direction, Harry pulled his bed curtains open, cutting all the nightly privacy spells and pulled himself away from the snake on the bed. For an odd reason, Voldemort felt as if more than just the privacy spells had been broken.

Everyone else in the dorm was already up, completing the final packing before they caught the train to head home for the holiday break. As typical Gryffindors, they were unduly loud and messy, hastily tossing clothing and books into their trunks in hopes they would all fit. Voldemort had no doubt that the Slytherins in the dungeons had been packed for days and scorned the House of the Lions. How Harry Potter could have ended up with these simpering whelps Voldemort simply could not understand...

Voldemort did not immediately realise he had just complimented his would-be vanquisher, and when he did his tongue began to rapidly flick the air from the emotions that had very recently been getting away from him.

Blissful silence; that is all Voldemort could think about as he lay curled up on Harry Potter's pillow, which was soft and smelled nice...

Oh Merlin, I'm turning into a house pet, Voldemort thought grumpily to himself. He watched as Potter walked back into the room after saying goodbye to his friends, or whatever he called those stupid dimwits.

:I'm taking a shower, wanna come?:

Voldemort was appalled at how excited he got. Again, he cursed the snake potion of himself that occasionally got the better of his dignity. He wished he could strangle his rejoicing inner cobra that danced at the prospect of basking in the hot shower steam.

It was all Potter's fault, he just knew it.

Instead of voicing this, though, he merely sighed and lugubriously said, :Fine.: