Exceptional love

Chapter 2

It soon became usual for the Dark Lord to appear within Harry's flat without invitation every other day. Sometimes Snape would come with him, seeking more blood and skin samples- not that Harry thought it would do him any good. And sometimes Draco would come with Tom, just to be an annoyance. At least that's what Tom said one time as he once again administered the healing balm to his back. Harry thought it funny that even the Dark Lord put up with Drake's whining. He would have thought that if Draco acted his usual self around Voldemort, the Dark Lord would have killed the blond a long time ago. But circumstances were not as they always had seemed and Harry learned this quickly on after the first visits. It really wasn't just a servant master relationship the Malfoys had with Tom. It was kind of like a dysfunctional family. Tom was an odd evil rich uncle that only barely tolerated the whiney little nephew and took great pleasure in bossing said nephew around; enjoying the fear he could produce in the younger wizard at all times. Harry found it all completely hilarious. But it was also disconcerting to see Tom having even a small amount of compassion for his closest followers when all he'd ever heard of Lord Voldemort was that he was a monster. No if, and, or buts about it. Again this was not the case and Harry worried for his sanity when he found himself warming up further to Tom.

During his visits, Tom would constantly ask him to stay at his home and Harry would stubbornly refuse. It had nothing to do with the fact this was Voldemort's home. Harry believed Tom when he said he meant no harm to him. It was like Harry said before, what could Tom do to him that hadn't already been done? But Harry wanted a semblance of freedom he didn't think a possessive freak of a wizard like Tom was capable of giving him. Never mind that Tom continued to argue he could cure him faster if he went with the Dark Lord. Now that was a blatant lie. Harry knew for some unknown reason, Tom really wanted him in his home. And until Harry went, the Gryffindor was sure Tom didn't mind blatantly lying about why.

Nearly two weeks had come and gone and Harry found himself alone for once in his flat, able to relax, if only slightly. He'd taken a pepper-up potion a few moments ago, though all he could do at this point even with the potion was shuffle around his flat, never having enough strength to travel beyond that. He had enough strength to get up long enough to fetch what he needed before falling back down on the couch and trying to ignore the increasing pain washing through his body. Hermione had moved in soon after the first visit from the four Slytherins, and though Harry tried to protest her babysitting, she quickly put his objections down; stating she knew how bad the curse was, knew about the pepper-up potions and refused to allow Harry to deteriorate alone. Not to mention she didn't trust the Slytherins and wanted to be around to watch over him when the Death Eaters and Dark master stopped by.

Currently Harry was in the kitchen checking up on the dinner Hermione was making. She had to step out a few minutes ago to run to the store for ingredient she'd forgotten and Harry agreed to keep an eye on the food. Harry was just about to remove the lid of the pot containing a sauce that had the entire flat smelling delicious, when suddenly his legs buckled out from underneath him. As he fell, he brutally knocked his forehead against the edge of the oven. The pain stemming from his head was the least of what he felt at the moment. He felt cold, numb, and literally on fire all at the same time. The pain was everywhere and he couldn't even breathe properly because the agony doubled if he moved even a breath. As his vision faded in and out and the blood trickled out of the small cut he'd just gained, Harry realized this was it. And Hermione was gone and he wouldn't get to say goodbye. To tell her how much he loved and cherished her. Harry was sorry she would come back and find him laid out like this.

He barely registered the pop of Apparition. "Potter," a voice rang out somewhere in the vicinity of his bedroom. Relief flooded Harry even as that emotion confused him. How could he be happy that if he should die, at least it would be Tom who would be here for his last breath? Maybe it was poetic irony, but he was relieved to hear Tom's voice and know the older wizard would be here at his death. Wasn't it always supposed to be this way?