The Darkness Within: Voldemort/Hadria Potter

Spicy Wand

***

After Voldemort's departure, Hadria remained rooted in that spot, her mind a tempest of conflicting emotions. The kiss...the unexpected, forbidden touch...still lingered on her lips. It was as if the Dark Lord himself had branded her, leaving an indelible mark...one that might last even longer than the bite mark which had finally faded for good days ago.

Voldemort...the name alone sent shivers down her spine. A homicidal, power-hungry wizard whose malevolence knew no bounds. His favorite pastime? Perhaps orchestrating the suffering of innocent souls. How could she reconcile this with the fact that she had kissed him back? Was it mere instinct, a desperate need for connection in the midst of chaos?

Nope...No....definitely not ready to answer that question...

She wasn't ready to confront those feelings, to unravel the tangled web of attraction and confusion.

Why hadn't she tried to kill him? The answer eluded her. He was the enemy...the one who had taken her parents, Cedric, and countless others. Forgiveness seemed impossible, especially when he hadn't sought it. Change? Voldemort was an unyielding force, a black hole of darkness.

But then, a nagging thought: Was he capable of affection? Of love? The very notion was absurd, yet she couldn't dismiss it entirely.

Her gaze fell to the bag...the enigmatic gift he had left behind. Sentimental tokens, carefully chosen. Not the grand gestures one might expect from a powerful wizard. No, these items whispered of shared moments. The silk pajamas...their softness against her skin...held memories. And the wine...a moment shared in their first meeting...was oddly intimate.

Did he intend to impress her? Or was it a haphazard bag flung together in hope? She carried the it to her room, its weight both physical and emotional. Undressing, she slipped into the silk pajamas, their fabric cool and luxurious. Sitting on the floor by her bed, she poured wine into a blue coffee cup...a makeshift celebration. Birthdays were rare joys for her, overshadowed by the Dursleys' indifference.

As she raised the cup, she wondered: Could love bloom in the darkest corners? Was redemption possible for a soul so irreparably fractured? Hadria sipped the wine, its warmth spreading through her. Perhaps...just perhaps, there was more to Voldemort than met the eye—a fractured heart hidden beneath the mask of a monster. And in that fragile possibility, she found herself both afraid and strangely hopeful.

Most people would say that the Dark Lord wasn't capable of love. But...at the end of the day...however flawed and broken and....pale...Voldemort is in fact human. It cannot be denied even if he fights it himself. His own desire for power and eternal life is proof in and of itself that he is indeed human. Desire is a human trait...more than needs and wants...it requires knowledge of the thing one seeks to have and the feeling of existence without it. It requires intelligence...it requires...fear. And the only thing that makes attaining a desire even worth the effort is the pleasure that one feels once it has been obtained...and pleasure is also very human.

The problem is in the paradox of desire...we often resist what we need and crave what we do not. What if she could help him overcome this? The way he looked at her after he kissed her...he was fighting it...she could tell...he fought it so hard that for just a moment he slipped and opened up a part of himself that probably no one would ever believed possible. That wasn't a calculated move...he was completely in the moment and...raw.

He was fighting what he needed and has probably been following that path for so long that he couldn't see it for himself.

Then there were his other emotions...anger, annoyance, pride, intrigue and even humor. Voldemort was definitely known to laugh even if it made your skin crawl a bit. He had a sense of humor. He could be suspicious...surprised...the more she thought of it the more she realized just how many emotions he was showing everyone and yet he was still depicted as some kind of mythological monster...he's human!

He clearly wasn't going to kill her...for whatever reason, she hadn't quite figured out. It almost seemed as though he was really trying to bring her to his side...perhaps...perhaps she should let him...or let him think so anyway...let him in a little to see what else she can learn about him...what if she could get him to open up more?

It could be dangerous. Among other things he had been known to also be very compulsive and temperamental. One minute he might be laughing at your joke and the next you might be at the spicy end of his wand...

Hehe...spicy wand....oh damnit!

Hadria chastised herself for the thought. The man didn't even have a nose...she wondered just how..."complete" he really was under those robes...oh for Merlin's sake!

She looked at the wine bottle and realized she'd had entirely too much of it to accompany her musings and should sleep this off before her thoughts start to venture much more. She corked the bottle and shoved it in her wardrobe. She hopped into bed and pulled the blankets over her and wondered just how crazy this idea really was.

But...if she's right...if there is some humanity in him as his emotions suggest...isn't that also worth fighting for? Couldn't that mean there is some sliver of goodness in him? As she played with the silk fabric of her sleeve between her fingers she couldn't stop thinking...is there really nothing in him worth saving?

Maybe it was just the wine talking. But for the first time in a long time it all started to make sense. When she closed her eyes she felt an emotion she hadn't felt in months.

Hope.