A/N: Well, I know that it's been a while since I posted the last chapter of Mirrored, but finally I'm back with an epilogue. Some of my dear readers were asking for it and so I decided to write it after all. Besides, I like this story very much too, so why not having a little more fun with it? Also, I'm planning to write another story HPLV story, but nothing too certain yet. :)




The air was thick and crisp, lingering in his lungs like a viscous jelly and burning his throat as he breathed it fast, in and out. He stumbled a little on slippery cobblestones, but kept moving forward, his wand at ready in his numb, shaking hand. He coughed into his sleeve and rubbed his chest to ease his breathing.

He could not be late. His whole world depended on him arriving here in time...

The street was dark and desolate, adding to Harry's fear.

A thin veil of mist spread around, clouding his vision a bit. Harry halted, listening intently, his hand still clutching at his chest right above his promptly beating heart. Yet, there was nothing to be heard aside from soft, rustling sounds of falling leaves.

"Tom," Harry gasped out. "Please."

His breath rattled in his throat.


Then, suddenly, something moved around Harry, the darkness becoming thicker and more compact before a shadowy figure stepped out of it, tall and graceful. The black robes swept the leaves away as the hand moved fast and caught Harry's chin in a firm grip.

"You're late."

The voice was high, cold and ill-tempered and yet Harry felt like fainting with relief.

"No, Tom," he sighed, licking his trembling lower lip. "For once I believe I'm not."

And then, before the other man could move away, Harry wrapped his arms around him and crushed him against his own chest.

"What in Salazar's name are you-?! Harr- OW!"

But Harry did not release him: instead, he claimed his mouth, muttering incoherently in those rare instances their eager lips tore apart.

"I was … so scared, Tom. So … afraid. Thank … Merlin … you're all right."

And then he buried his face in the crook of the Dark Lord's neck, breathing in the soothing, familiar smell of Dark Magic. Voldemort was still upset, he could feel it, but it was okay … everything was okay with him for this very moment.

A cold hand took a grip of his hair and pulled him away a bit.

"Now that you properly molested me, Potter, would you mind explaining yourself? And it'd better be something consequential, boy."

Oh, how much he loved him. Whenever he looked into his eyes, Harry felt like a swelling soap bubble – floating weightlessly, yet about to burst into millions of glittering droplets.

"Tom," Harry breathed out, stroking his strikingly white, protruding jawline with his thumb. "They … know," he said brokenly. "They figured it out. I've been worried sick that the Aurors would find you before I did. But it's all right now … it's all right … still, we have to leave England tonight, I'm afraid..."

Voldemort remained quiet for a while, watching Harry with his intense red eyes.

"I do not fear your friends, Harry," he said calmly then.

"It's not that!" Harry snapped, shaking his head resolutely. "Please, just listen to me! They know, Tom! I cannot come back! My friends ... they … ah..."

Voldemort took a slow step back, deep in thought.

"How did they figure it out?" he asked then.

Harry fluttered his hands exasperatedly.

"I don't know, but does it really matter? It was probably Ron, who saw us returning to Grimmauld Place together. I cannot think of anything else right now. Anyway, I was just sorting out my afternoon mail when I found this letter and I thought it was for me, but it wasn't. Ron was writing to Hermione, who planned to visit me this evening, but, apparently, the owl decided to bring the letter into my house in advance. Still, imagine my shock when I read the lines - Ron was warning her that you could be waiting there for her… Tom, no matter the precautions we took, they already know that you're living with me!"

"That is most unfortunate, indeed," Voldemort said softly, pulling out his wand. "...for them, of course."

"No," Harry gasped. "No, Tom, please, no. You must leave them out of this! I'm only afraid that they already warned the Aurors..."

"I refuse to leave my home because of some meddling Aurors, Harry," the Dark Lord interrupted him coldly. "I think it's time for us to enlighten them the situation a bit."

"Tom," Harry groaned, raking his fingers through his wild hair in frustration. "Don't do this to me. If you care the slightest bit about my feelings, don't do this."

The long, cool fingers wrapped themselves around Harry's wrist and jerked him closer.

"You've been showing me over and over how unhealthy it is to live in a lie, Harry, and yet you're doing the very same thing to yourself. So, let me show you now how much I learned to care," Voldemort said resolutely and the world flipped around Harry fast.

Before Harry had time to properly recuperate or become familiar with his surroundings, Voldemort took a resolute step forward while baring his left forearm.

He pressed his finger against his Dark Mark and instantly the air was filled with sweeping black cloaks and resonated with cracks of Apparation.

"Oh, no," Harry moaned as he watched the quickly forming wide circle of wizards and witches around him. "I can't believe he really summoned them..."

More and more of wizards were coming and the crowd was becoming rather thick with the growing number of the Dark Lord's followers.

Harry heard their excited whisper and felt their curious stares, but he faced them without betraying his discomfort.

"Welcome, my Death Eaters. It's been a while since I called you the last time," Voldemort said pleasantly, pacing along the line they formed, "...leaving you hiding all over the country before the Ministry forces. Yet, I believe the time has come again for us to remind them of our presence."

"Oh, no," Harry muttered again, a thrill of fear running down his spine.

Voldemort looked at Harry briefly, but then he turned his head back as one of the Death Eaters stepped forward and sank to his knees, bowing subserviently.

"My Lord," he muttered with his head nearly touching the ground, "...may I ask, Master, does it mean that we will try to take over the Ministry again?"

Breathless and unnerved, Harry watched Voldemort come closer to his servant.

"No, Goyle," he said silkily, flourishing his hand. "That won't be necessary. We need to stop this useless, nonproductive war at last. I do not wish to spill another drop of magical blood. Although our main quest to preserve the blood purity is still extremely important, preserving the existence of the magical community in Britain is even more vital than that."

Voldemort retreated a few steps back, looking over his Death Eaters.

"I have come to the conclusion that if Muggle blood makes us incompetent, then those who regularly besmear our heritage shall be ruled out of our society for these natural reasons. There is no need for us to fight them and die because of them.

Also, if there is such a unique case when Muggle blood actually strengthens these magical abilities, I no longer see a valid reason why we should persecute these wizards and witches, especially when they proved their magical competence."

Harry's heart jumped into his throat with excitement after hearing his words. He could hardly believe what he was witnessing – Tom was actually advocating on behalf of Muggle-borns before his Death Eaters! He really seemed to be willing to accept their rightful place in the wizarding society!

Harry had to hold himself from shooting his fist into the air and celebrating this aloud.

However, he was not the only one who had troubles believing Lord Voldemort's words. The Death Eaters muttered to themselves, shifting uncomfortably at their feet as if a mere thought of accepting Muggle-borns among themselves frustrated them to no end.

"You seem disappointed, my friends," Voldemort continued softly, his gleaming eyes darting from mask to mask. "I can sense your displeasure as if it were mine. What is it about my words that disturbs you so much?"

No one seemed to be daring enough to step forward and proclaim his aversion, Harry noticed.

"Perhaps you think," the Dark Lord continued, turning towards Harry, "that Harry Potter, who's been my dear companion for several past weeks, somehow influenced my mind and changed my unwavering views."

Now, Harry squirmed in discomfort at the number of probing gazes he received.

"And you would be quite right about it, for Harry Potter indeed opened my eyes and helped me accept the truth."

Harry's mortification reached a whole new level. He shuffled his feet, wishing he brought his Invisibility cloak along.

"Still, for those of you who remain doubtful, I've prepared a final evidence."

Harry raised his head, watching Voldemort conjure a pedestal and step up on it, so that everyone could see him properly in that soft moonlight coming through branches of distant trees.

"I, Lord Voldemort, must confess my Muggle heritage to you."

The Death Eaters appeared to be scalded by this news. Amazed, Harry watched the reactions that Voldemort's words induced. Most Death Eaters were shaking their heads, refusing to accept it, while others were just staring numbly as if their world just shattered apart.

"Yes, it is true. My father was a Muggle and my mother, a descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin was a poor half-Squib unable to even survive a childbirth."

Several Death Eaters sank to their knees and crawled over to Voldemort, begging to be told different.

"And yet," the Dark Lord continued more dangerously, "look at me, my friends. Look at Lord Voldemort, look at his powers and achievements!"

He dropped his hands and glanced down at the servants sobbing by his feet.

"Perhaps, having Muggle blood in your veins is not always so debilitating, is it?"

They were sobering out, returning to the circle and reforming its shape.

"Well, I wanted to show you that I was delusional to the point where I started to believe my lies. It was a mistake. Irrationality leads to errors and errors lead to failures. Only those who are strong enough to face their weaknesses may be eventually rewarded with … success."

He turned to Harry and then their eyes met again.

Oh, how much Harry wanted to hug him and kiss him right then. He never felt so proud of anyone, not even his Dumbledore's Army practicing in secret behind Umbridge's back.

"We must retrieve our past errors and we must do it right now. You may not benefit from this tonight, but your offspring, the future of our Wizarding world, shall. Choose wisely who'll be your mate...," Voldemort said, before turning to look at Harry and slowly extending his hand towards him. "But perhaps not too wisely for not every weakness deserves to be eradicated and wiped out," he concluded and smiled when Harry came over, wrapped his fingers around the offered palm and squeezed it hard.


Harry, naturally, saw right through Tom's tactics. He understood that Tom wanted to show him that he was ready to overcome his shame and fears and that he expected the same from Harry. But the problem was that Tom's 'friends' could hardly openly renounce him, no matter what he told them. Harry's friends, on the other hand, were a completely different story. It was not that they loved him the less, if anything, they loved him far more than that. And that was the heart of the problem – he loved them too, and he could not see them hurt.

Voldemort's hand was no longer cold in his clutch. It was, in fact, very warm and pleasant and Harry focused on that sensation as they walked towards the Atrium with an army of Death Eaters following their track.

"Tom...," he said quietly, but fell silent again after receiving Voldemort's intent stare. "You're right," he muttered then, pulling himself back together. "I cannot live in fear for the rest of my life."

The hand tightened its hold on his fingers and he returned that encouraging squeeze.

I need you. Oh, please, stay by my side.

Voldemort then slowed down his gait, coming to stand directly at the place where the dreadful statue insulting all Muggles used to tower above everything else. Harry stopped beside him and tried his best to ignore the frantic commotion around. People were screaming and running away while Aurors were running in, searching for some advantageous attack positions. Harry tried to copy Voldemort's calmness, standing very still by his side, but he was a wreck of nerves on the inside. So many things could go so terribly wrong that it was making him sick.

And then they were coming, Ron and Hermione, they were hurrying towards him, frenzied, and behind them, he could see Lupin and Tonks and Weasleys and so many others that Harry's resolution definitely began wavering again.

Still, he only clutched at the hand holding his even tighter.

"Harry!" Ron yelped wildly, apparently fully intent on running towards him and rescuing him. It was Hermione, who stopped him, whispering something urgently into his ear.

At that moment, Tom finally let go of Harry's hand and stepped forward. Everyone on the other side of the imaginary barrier took an involuntary step back.

"Where is the Minister of Magic? I'd like to have a few words with him," the Dark Lord spoke quietly to the stunned crowd.

"I am here," Kingley's low, booming voice resounded in the vast room and he moved forward as well.

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Kingsley Shacklebolt," Voldemort continued in the same smooth, compliant tone, adding a scary little smile.

"I cannot say I share the sentiment," Kingsley returned coldly.

"Tom," Harry breathed out so quietly that only the Dark Lord could hear him. "This is completely pointless. Let's try this again one hundred years later, okay?"

Voldemort looked back at Harry and the moment their eyes met, Harry felt his distant presence inside his mind.

And he felt his decision to protect, preserve and ensure his happiness no matter what.

In spite of himself, Harry felt his lips curl into a little smile. How was it possible that Tom was unable to see his own loveliness?

Voldemort swiftly turned back to Kingsley, straightening his long spine.

"Let's skip the pleasantries, then," he said curtly before returning back to stand beside Harry. "I did not miraculously disappear, Shacklebolt, no matter how much you probably hoped that I did. I am still here, fully capable of putting you all through unimaginable miseries if I wish so."

"Tom," Harry groaned as things definitely started to take the wrong turn again.

"Therefore, it comes to me as a great surprise," Voldemort continued aloofly, "that you were so eager to find my whereabouts, obviously fully intent on destroying me, but you failed to consider the reason why I wasn't repaying you the favour."

He took a daring step forward.

"I did not become weak, Shacklebolt," he said threateningly, "and I am done hiding in the closet."

Kingsley shivered, but held his stance surrounded by Aurors. He only wiped off the little droplets of sweat from his brows.

"Speaking of which," Voldemort said more softly, turning back to Harry and running his hand down his arm affectionately, "there is someone else who's willing to step out of it as well."

"Thanks, Tom, but I think I can take it from here," Harry hissed quietly.

"Not yet, Harry," Voldemort whispered back before approaching Kingsley again, resolute and menacing.

"Tom," Harry said more loudly, but Voldemort did not listen.

"Harry Potter is mine and any harm done to him will be regarded as a harm done to my person. You shall know that Lord Voldemort is not merciful when attacked and therefore the Order of the Phoenix should seriously reconsider pursuing any retaliatory action against Harry. I urge you to remember that as long as he is alive and well, you shall avoid my wrath and live in peace all you like, but the moment someone injures him on purpose, both mentally or physically, you'll be facing the consequences of the direst kind!"

Okay, this was definitely crossing all the allotted boundaries. Harry resolutely stepped forward and caught Lord Voldemort's elbow.

"Wait, Tom – slow down! Firstly, I really appreciate your effort to keep me safe and sound, but, seriously, I can take care of myself, thank you, and secondly this is absolutely not necessary! Stop turning me into some token of peace or whatever you plan to do. I don't want them to think of me that way. I … I just want them to know the truth … which is quite simple, in fact. I am with you not because I have to be, but because I want to be. I … I love you, Tom. I love you."

Voldemort blinked a couple of times as if trying to fully embrace the meaning behind Harry's words.

He cleared his throat then, regaining his footing.

"Have you just interrupted my best domination speech of the year in order to tell me that?"

Harry laughed nervously and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah?"

To everyone's surprise the Dark Lord smiled back, the tension gradually leaving his shoulders. He leant forward, kissing Harry's cheek lightly.

"Thank you, Harry," he said the words he held back for so long. "Thank you for everything."

And then he stepped aside, giving up his bargaining position for Harry.

Squaring up his shoulders, Harry took a deep breath and turned his face to Ron and Hermione. His stomach was cramping with nerves for he expected to see open disgust in their eyes, but what he really saw in there surprised him a lot.

They appeared mortified and also a little ... guilty?

Harry bit into his lower lip and rolled it between his teeth. He wished he could hug them and tell them that he was terribly sorry, but it was a bit too late for that.

"I really don't know what to say right now," he muttered instead.

Taking in another breath, he tried to continue before his mouth could grow too numb from his abashment.

"I know that you must find this shocking … and I … I really hope that you can forgive me once," he sighed. "I wanted to tell you about this months ago, but I couldn't just speak it … it was so difficult to even think of describing my feelings for Tom to you since you can only see him as-"

"It's okay, we understand!" Ron interrupted him with a sudden yelp, his face slowly turning crimson.

He took Harry quite by surprise: his best friend was actually among the last people Harry expected to accept and tolerate this revelation.

"You do?" he choked.

"Yeah. You're simply in love with a … bloke … no big deal," Ron muttered, his face definitely purple by now.

"It's not a big deal?" Harry muttered in disbelief.

"Harry," Hermione began hesitantly and suddenly Harry felt that the reason Ron acted so strangely was because he missed out something important.

Hermione coughed to clear her throat. "Harry … what Ron is trying to insinuate here is that we will be more than happy to forgive you, if you can forgive us too."

"F-forgive you too?" Harry stuttered out, his confusion rocketing to the skies. "For what?"

"Because … we … we knew about it," Hermione peeped out.

"Well, of course you did, since your correspondence was quite straightforward..."

"For nearly ten months," Hermione finished, also a little pink in her face. "You know, we first thought that you were under the Imperius Curse or something like that, but it soon proved to be a misleading conviction."

Harry felt as if she just poured a bucket of ice cold water all over him.

"What?" he asked flatly. "How?"

"W-well," Ron stuttered out, "Do you remember the last Christmas when you stayed with us at the Burrow and we shared a bedroom?"

"Yeah - what about it?" Harry said, still completely undone.

"Oh, Harry... Come on! You talk in sleep, haven't I told you that?" Ron moaned, rubbing his flaming ears.

Dismayed, Harry took a staggering step back.

Oh, no.

No no no no no! NO!

"Wh – what did I say?" Harry stammered, drowning in horrible embarrassment. He couldn't possibly say something totally improper … no, he was still going out with Ginny back then! But now that he thought about it, she broke up with him soon after the Christmas...

And started dating Neville Longbottom two weeks later.


What if he was whispering his name during those nights? Perhaps he was begging him to come back? Or was he moaning about how much he missed him and how much he desired him?

Because that was what he used to dream about.

Harry slowly turned around, watching the dozens of excited faces eager to catch their every word. Further, Rita Skeeter was making the front line, her Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling so fast that it was puncturing the parchment.

Harry felt as if every drop of blood in his body attempted to squeeze itself into his face. Surely, his head would be cracking along its seams any moment.

"Ron … Hermione," he breathed heavily. "How about we continue this conversation somewhere more private, please?"


"Oh, Merlin, they'll never let me live this down."

"Your friends, Harry? I believe they just did. Relax, my dearest, there are far worse things than that, I assure you."

"Name one."

"The Cruciatus Curse, for example."

"Haha, very funny, Tom," Harry rolled over on a bed, coming face to face with Lord Voldemort, before wrapping his arm around his naked torso.

"I am trying to be serious here," he mumbled against his skin.

"So am I."

"No, you're just being ironic as usual. Ah, I still refuse to believe that Ron and Hermione knew about this for ten months! How could they do this to me? Well, I know that I wasn't entirely honest with them either, but it boggles my mind that Hermione actually supported my meaningless dates when she knew how I really felt about you!"

"Obviously, she wanted you to forget all about me … for your own good, I suppose."

"As if I could ever forget."

"I am actually very happy to hear you say that Harry, although there are certain … memories that I wouldn't mind to wipe off your head by myself."

"Nah, I don't regret anything, Tom. Except ... well, technically, my career is over."

"No, it's not. They cannot sack you for sleeping with Lord Voldemort. According to the wizarding laws, it's not even a misdeed let alone a crime."

"I don't think it's the sleeping part they've got such a problem with."

"All right," Voldemort smirked, coiling his long limbs around Harry's body and basking in his warmth. "So, it must be the part concerning our violent, passionate sex life they outwardly despise but inwardly envy us immensely," he suggested.

"Hah," Harry snorted, "they wouldn't know a thing about it unless someone listened to my sleep talks again."

"I enjoy listening to them every night."

"Tom!" Harry moaned, refusing to feel self-conscious when lying naked on the bed and enjoying the aftermath of his second orgasm tonight. "Anyway, the biggest problem is that they consider me a double agent now."

"You mean a triple agent, since you're basically teaching the Aurors some tricks of mine, aren't you?"

"Look, I cannot help it, Tom … it's a natural process. I've learned so many things about magic just from watching you."

"Yes, you've got so many natural talents, Harry. Do you want me to name some?"

"Besides, I cannot really be a double agent, can I? Since we're no longer in a war, right?" Harry still muttered to himself, glowering at the ceiling.

"It upsets me greatly when something distracts you to the point that you're not paying attention to me, Harry."

Harry jerked his head in his direction.

"Oh, Tom, you're right. Look at me now - after all of my brave words about my readiness to handle the difficulties, I am whining about what Rita and her readers think of me now. Worse, I am still contemplating it even though I've got you in my bed. How silly I can get, really, wasting these precious moments that I hopelessly dreamt about for so many months."

"So," the cool, soft hand lightly traced the outline of Harry's temple, his cheek and chin before slowly heading southward, "is it your way of saying that I was worth it?"

Suddenly, Harry recalled the incident in the prefects' bathroom when they gave into their desire for the first time. Tom called it absurd and insane back then. Quite a change in his opinion, indeed, Harry thought to himself, chuckling.

"What?" Voldemort hissed, but Harry smothered him with kisses.

"Absolutely, Tom," he whispered adoringly. "Absolutely, my love."

"Ah, say it again."

"My love," Harry purred when the Dark Lord pressed his mouth against his ear.

"I love it when you're calling me that," he breathed out as if betraying an oppressive secret.

"And I love it when I can call you that," Harry whispered in return.

"So...," the cool lips grazed Harry's warm pair softly, teasingly.

"So?" Harry smiled back.

"You're really mine, aren't you?"

"I am yours as much as you're mine, Tom."

"Oh, then I possess you completely."

"Um … rather not. We did not have that much fun the last time you did it … oh, and you'd better stop stroking me down there unless you want another kind of magic happening really but really soon."

"Well, since you're mine, Harry Potter..."

"Ah! Fuck, y-you keep saying that," Harry protested, stopping the hand's movement by wrapping his fingers around it, "and yet, surprisingly, you refuse to take the merits, although I provide them quite freely every time we're together."

"Oh, Harry," Lord Voldemort smiled one of his truly wicked smiles which Harry found to be so alluring.

"I do consider them more often than you think, since you look truly irresistible like this."

"So ... are you considering them … even now?" Harry asked, breathless again.

"Most definitely."

The hand squeezed him softly again and Harry found himself arching into that touch.

"And?" he gasped out aloud.

"From what I see, it would take some getting used to it," Voldemort said after a short hesitation.

"I am not arguing about that," Harry grinned.

"And I am curious, of course, to discover what exactly makes you crave it so much."

"Wow, no buts this time?" Harry noted, genuinely excited and surprised, making his lover laugh out aloud.

"Apparently, no buts," Voldemort hissed softly and then he became more serious. "For I know beyond any doubt now that you do not wish to hurt me..."

"...too badly," Harry finished with a smirk as he crawled on top of him, pushing him against the mattress. The ticking bomb in his groin was about to explode just from the heady feeling of control he was momentarily given. "Because right now I wouldn't be able to hold back on you even if you begged me. You're goddamn irresistible too, did you know that?"

"Ah … am I, Harry?"

Playful and adorably faking innocence … oh, his Dark Lord was such a tease for such a long time that Harry could not contain himself any longer.

"Oh, Lord, I swear I'm going to tie you to this bed one day, Tom Riddle!"

"Yesss, Harry … now … with the other name, if you please."

"FINE! Lord Voldemort, I am going to TIE you to THIS fucking bed and fuck your glorious ARSE RIGHT NOW!"

"Alright. And Harry ... I love you too."