On the Other Side

~IX~

 "Too much thinking for the morning, Potter," muttered Voldemort some time later, slowly waking up. "Aren't you afraid of explosion?"

"I – What?"

"Your head. It could very well explode, you know, with so many thoughts in there," Voldemort's tone was calm.

"Ah, you're not used to people actually thinking, 'cause you have only imbecilic servants to hear the thoughts of!" Harry exclaimed sarcastically.

"How do you know?" Voldemort snorted, the corner of his mouth slightly raising in concealed smirk.

"I am just genius like this," Harry snickered. Then quickly sobered and pointedly looked at the Dark Lord's hand, still holding Harry. "Why?"

"Why what, exactly? Can you elaborate?"

"Why are you holding me?" Harry's tone rose in pitch from his agitation.

"Hmm, I can't hold my future spouse close to myself while sleeping?"

"What?! 'Spouse'?! Who said anything about spouse?! And we just had a fight, why would you want to hold me?! I Stupefied you, no?"

"If you remember, the spell didn't work. Oh, well, it didn't work correctly, to be precise."

"Yeah, it backfired," Harry muttered annoyed and rubbed at his still sore abdomen. "That's bloody painful," he added.

"Almost like Cruciatus," admitted Voldemort quietly.

Harry's head snapped up at that admission.

"How do you know what a Crucio feels like?" Harry rose a brow. "Unbelievable, that someone can curse the Dark Lord Voldemort."

"When I was learning that spell and tutoring my then companions we took turns," Voldemort told lowly.

"Turns?"

"We practiced the spells on each other. It was less dangerous than using outsiders as practice targets, they could slip up. Recognize us."

"And Avada Kedavra? On whom you practiced that one?" in a scratchy whisper asked Harry.

"Don't know the name. Some scum I came upon at the streets of London." Voldemort winced. "Why are we talking about it now?"

"You started it," Harry muttered in accusing tone. "Though I am glad, you know at least some of your favorite tortures from the other side."

"Hmmph. Back to the discussion, then. We still have that 'Remus problem', as you've dubbed it."

"Don't go sneaking inside my head," Harry hissed angrily. "I don't in yours!"

"Oh, really? Then what had I felt earlier, when sleeping? Was it not 'sneaking'?" Voldemort purred with sarcasm.

"Paranoiac!"

Voldemort just rose his brow and cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah, yeah, I was checking if you were sleeping. That's all! I didn't go looking into your thoughts, no peeping into your dirty fantasies, nothing!"

"Oh, you're welcome to, if you'd like, you know," the Dark Lord drawled in silky tone.

"Pervert!" Harry snorted.

"Says who?" Voldemort smirked with a suggestive glint in his eyes.

"Argh! Fine, fine, we both are! But still, no looking inside my head without permission! Or good reason to look without one!"

"Define 'good reason'," Voldemort's smirk widened.

"Bloody control-freak! You just can't live without looking into everybody's head, aren't you? If it is a live or die situation, or we can't communicate normally, for example. Then you may look into my head or we can talk like this. But no lurking silently!"