III

"The offer of shoulder still stands, you know," Harry said after half-hour of slow silent walking. "You still cushioned my fall, I owe you at least for this."

"You do not 'owe' me anything," Voldemort refused, "That's me who is indebted up to my eyeballs to you, Harry."

Harry huffed in disbelief.

"Up to your eyeballs, you say! Whatever for? Because I am your soul-piece?"

"Because you caught me just now, when we fell," Voldemort corrected. "Though you being my Horcrux adds to the debt either."

"How many of them did you make?" Harry asked out of the blue. "Who else is your life-debtor?"

"I should hope no one aside from you. Human Horcrux is not common, to say the least. I believe, our case is the special one in more than one sense."

"You're again avoiding the question," Harry noticed. "How many soul-pieces of you are there? Or are you afraid to tell me? I am one of them, so why are you scared?"

"I. Am. Not." Voldemort let out through gritted teeth.

"No? For me it certainly looks like you are," Harry remarked snidely.

"Seven," spat the Dark Lord. "I was planning to create six, plus the one soul-piece still left in me. Satisfied?!"

Harry shook his head in negative. All this time he was not turning to Voldemort, opting to carefully watch where they were going instead.

"I am not, but that's out of the question. I still find it gross to kill and to cut your own soul up in pieces for the sake of a doubtful prospect of living forever. Why seven, then?"

"It's magic of the number," muttered Voldemort reluctantly.

"Which was spoiled by accidental creation of eighth piece?" Harry snickered. "Looks like I am your party-pooper even without my own consent, huh?" He at last spared a brief glance over the shoulder at sulking Voldemort. The view of pouting Dark Lord made Harry giggle even more merrily.

"What's so funny?!" the Dark Lord growled, but Harry laughed even harder at that.

"I can't help it, sorry," he managed to say through the tears of mirth, "You look like a five-year-old with this cute pout of yours!"

"So my pout is cute?" despite his resentment Voldemort's lips twitched in a hint of a smile.

"So are you going now to turn my every word into innuendo?" Harry asked exasperated. "What's with you and sexual allusions?!"

"I think that's the byproduct of me returning to my human form, actually," Voldemort said. "I still do not understand how and why that had happened, by the way," he squinted his eyes in suspicion, looking at Harry.

"Don't look at me like that, I have nothing to do with it!" Harry threw his arms up in surrender. "Maybe that's just this place' influence."

"I do not think it to be true, though," Voldemort remarked in thoughtful tone. "From my perspective, it was exactly your influence, which somehow returned me my human body."

"How so? I didn't do a thing, not that I remember at least," Harry raised a brow.

"We shared blood and magic, and not only one time, but twice."

"We exchanged blood and magic," Harry corrected him. "By your logic I should have become snake-like in your stead."

"That is different. I acquired my snake-form through that ritual a year ago."

"Don't remind me," Harry interrupted with a groan.

"It was Nagini's blood and venom in that potion, which resulted in my transformation. Now it was your blood –"

"– and venom?" Harry snickered.

"Something like that," Voldemort smiled crookedly. "This started the transformation back to my human form –"

"What about the second time with shield? I am no scholar, but even I understand that it was quite the magic there."

"I am still not sure, what the second shielding brought on. It is possible, that you transformed as well, but it is not as obvious, as my change. You are right, it might have been not too complicated, but still it had been rather potent and, indeed, uncommon piece of magical casting."

"I hope I won't grow tits or something," Harry remarked, only half-amused.

The smirk on the Dark Lord's features was strained, as well.

"I rather you will not, as it will add extra curves to your slender form and spoil the view," he commented.

Harry raised a brow in surprise:

"Was it your way of complimenting, by any chance?"

"It could have been," Voldemort murmured with an meaningful glint in his eyes.

Harry just shook his head in exasperation.

Their walk was silent for a while. Then Harry sighed and slowed his steps to walk along Voldemort.

"If you are going to leave this stupid place any time in this century you might as well grab my shoulder now, before you fall," without warning Harry took Voldemort's hand and put it on the said shoulder, the second before the man tripped over nothing again. "It is harder to lift unconscious people, then to support those who can walk on their own," Harry grumbled, feeling the Dark Lord's reluctance. Then he placed a hand around the man's waist for better hold, the Dark Lord recoiling from his touch and shuddering from pain in his bruised back. "I'll try not to squeeze to much," Harry promised. "But this way is easier for us both."

"Fine," Voldemort managed to grumble through clenched teeth.

"I am still not sure where we should go, though," Harry admitted. "If we are to go with my gut feeling, then we are lost. I don't want to go anywhere anymore. Just lay down and sleep. That's strange. Just seconds ago I was not so sleepy –" Harry trailed off and yawned.

"Potter!" Voldemort barked. "Don't fall asleep on me, boy!" he snapped, feeling Harry's form to start sliding to the ground suddenly. Hissing and swearing under his nose the Dark Lord took out his wand and simply cast a watering charm on Harry. This proved successful, as Harry woke with a yelp and a start.

"What are you doing?!"

"Waking you. Seems, like our host acquired a new tactic: to lull us to sleep and be done with us. I've felt this myself right before you started to manhandle me. I suppose I was the first target of the spell and you managed to share its influence between us. Fortunately for us both, your interference helped me to throw this spell off." Voldemort sighed. "We need new tactic, as well. Neither my cloud, nor your 'gut feeling' helped us to escape, so we need to search for something else. Any thoughts?"

Harry shook his head in negative.

"I don't even know where to start searching."

"What do we have that he doesn't?" Voldemort prompted.

"Don't have any idea," Harry shrugged. "We are human?"

"He is a supernatural being, right. But our humanity may very well be our weakness, not our strength over him. What else?"

"We managed to shield from him, when we'd combined our powers," Harry thought out loud. "Maybe try the same?"

"No. Firstly, it's too dangerous: you are under-trained at best and I am in no condition myself to cast the shield charm. And secondly, I am afraid it will not work anymore, as after two times he more than likely had found the counter."

"Those times we did it in turns. What if we do it simultaneously? Will it work?" Harry suggested.

Voldemort cringed.

"As I've said, I am far from healthy, and magic-wise, too, am rather drained. Even with your powers we will not do much. Simple blood-sharing and combining magical flows won't work here."

"If you say this is simple, I don't know what's more tricky," Harry furrowed.

Voldemort looked at him with odd expression on his face, brows almost in one line from concentration, lips pursed in contemplation and manic glint in his eyes.

"What?" Harry asked tentatively.

Instead of verbal answer, though, he felt sudden burst of nervousness coming through the mental link.

"There is something," Voldemort muttered slowly, "But I am afraid, you would not like it. Although quite possibly it can finally help us escape this place, not just protect from the Death spells during our senseless wandering in fruitless search of non-existing exit."

"Spill it," Harry said sarcastically. "I don't think I am able to dislike anything more than me being your soul-piece and you killing to gain immortality," he grimaced.

"I beg to differ," in the same sarcastic tone returned Voldemort. "Firstly, tell me, Harry, how do you find the idea of two males in an affair?"

"What kind of question is that?!" Harry spluttered indignantly. "Is it the quiz 'ten things to embarrass Harry Potter with'?!"

"Just answer, Harry," the Dark Lord urged him, his expression closed off and only waves of his nervousness and mild interest coming through the mental link.

"If you mean 'sexual affair' –?" Harry started.

"More of a 'romantic affair', but yes, it may be sexual, too," Voldemort confirmed. "So –?"

"W-well," dragging his suddenly wet palms along his thighs to dry them, mumbled Harry, "I've never really thought about it, them, oh, hell! So yes, I don't know."

"Have you met anyone who has the partner of the same sex, then?" Voldemort continued his questioning.

"Eh, no? Or yes? I don't know!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Maybe?" he added weakly.

"Very well then," Voldemort sighed, then Harry abruptly felt his mind pushing at the almost non-existent boundary between them, rather violently. At first Harry attempted to block the Dark Lord, but he was no match to the man's mental power, so his efforts ended very quickly with his mental walls crushing under pressure of Voldemort's mind.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the splitting headache their confrontation caused and wavered on his feet. He felt detached surprise at sensing Voldemort's hand supporting him and not letting him fall to the ground, instead, gently guiding him to sit.

At first, the sense of alien mind inside his own made Harry almost sick, but after some time he managed to get used to it, at least enough to not try pushing at it reflexively in attempt to throw it out. Then finally Voldemort got down to business: Harry felt himself being dragged into something akin to the memories in the Pensive or a film.

The images he was shown portrayed various same-sex couples – male and female – either holding hands, or hugging, one pair of men were kissing passionately, and finally Harry got a glimpse at a snogging session, though that one was cut off abruptly at the moment, when Harry caught a sight of the face of one of them – very much like one of young Tom Riddle, whom Harry remembered from his second year and the incident in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry thought the consent of the younger version of Riddle in the last scene was very dubious, too much distress written over his handsome features for Harry's comfort. After this last one the flood of images stopped and Voldemort's mind retracted, leaving furiously blushing and panting Harry, who was clutching at his aching head and cursing the Dark Lord loudly.

"Was it another one of your sadistic experiments?!" Harry snapped enraged.

"You are correct. It was the easiest way for you to quickly solve the question of your sexuality," Voldemort shrugged.

"And this is related to our problem at hand how exactly?!" Harry asked still aggravated. "Just so you know I have a blinding headache right now, so probably won't be able to do a frigging thing magic-wise in the nearest hour at the least!"

"I apologize," Voldemort lowered his gaze, "I was not expecting such violent opposition from your mind and overrated my mental strength. I can ease your ache a bit, if you'd like?" This time the Dark Lord looked genuinely sorry for a change.

Harry waved a hand in dismissal.

"Forget it! You'd better explain how this is related to our plan of escape."

"In a minute. I have another question out of that 'ten embarrassing' ones you've mentioned."

"I am as ready as I can be with you and your sudden experiments," Harry snorted. "Shoot!"

"Are you still a virgin, Harry?"

Harry's jaw fell open at such blatant and direct inquiry.

"I – what? I beg your pardon?" he blurted in absolute shock and confusion.

"Are. You. A virgin. Harry?" Voldemort repeated almost in separate syllables. His expression was unreadable and Harry even stopped sensing his emotions through mental link. Of course, that might have something to do with the headache and events that had brought it on.

Harry nodded his agreement fervently, than shook his head in negative, similarly energetically, unable to say a word and only opening and closing his mouth silently as a fish, thrown to a shore.

"Should I take this as a yes?" the Dark Lord raised an amused brow.

'Oh, joy! Now he is showing his emotions!' thought Harry sarcastically.

'I simply deduced that they might confuse you more, so attempted to block myself out,' came calm mental comment.

Harry bristled.

"You know, when you ask such questions out of the blue, anyone would like to at least understand what you think of them yourself," Harry noted. "Showing emotions tend to do just that – show your true feelings to the opponent."

"I will try to not block my thoughts next time," with a mild smile agreed Voldemort.

"Oh, so you have more embarrassing questions?!"

"Indeed, I do. Have you ever touched yourself intimately, Harry?"

"What's with my name and embarrassing questions?! Why are you calling me 'Harry' all of a sudden, when all you say pertains only to my sexuality?!" Harry exclaimed offended.

"Are you suggesting I should call you by your first name all the time? Or on the opposite – ask you personal questions and call you by a surname, which only distances you and me further?" Voldemort inquired with raised brow.

"I don't suggest anything," Harry huffed. "Let's return to business, shall we?" he motioned with his hand between them and around. "Would you tell me about that plan of yours already, huh? Or have you other 'ten questions' up your sleeve?"

"Actually, I do, but they are not urgent," Voldemort smirked. "I'll save them for later, I think."

"So – ? "

"Unfortunately, I still have to ask you one last thing, before we can discuss our plan of escape," Voldemort warned. "How do you find myself?"

"What kind of question is that?!" Harry gaped.

"The most vital one, I recon. So, tell me, Harry, do you like what you see now, at the least?" There was a hint of something in Voldemort's tone, suggesting that he was seriously interested in the answer, and not only in relation to their 'plan of escape', whatever that one might be.

~8~8~8~

Harry made a conscious attempt to scrutinize the man in front of him, trying very hard not to remember, that it was the Dark Lord Voldemort he was looking at. He evaluated slender graceful form; handsome, slightly feminine features, sporting high, prominent cheekbones with a hint of a dimple and rose spots of embarrassment from close scrutiny, plump bright-red lips; intriguing red eyes, which were now shining brightly with some undefined emotion; dark chestnut locks, slightly ruffled due to the hectic events they were experiencing. And Harry suddenly realized, that, yes, he did like what he saw, at least, when looking with detachment of a stranger. Though he was not certain, if it was the admiration of a nice view, or, indeed, a romantic interest.

"Harry?" Voldemort asked in a careful tone.

"If the question is if I like the view," Harry started slowly, "Then, yes, you look nice, not like the ugly snake in a human form, which was, frankly speaking, a horrible sight," He stopped in thought, then continued even slower than before in very careful tone. "If you are asking if I am attracted to what I see in a sexual way, the answer would be the same as before: I don't know. Three minutes is too small a time to explore one's sexuality and decide on the preferences. And your assaulting me with pornographic images directly into my mind didn't help either. Now I am officially off the thing."

Voldemort pursed his lips in annoyance:

"Seems, I've made a mistake."

"Yeah," Harry agreed in a heavy tone.

"Then we are back to square one," Voldemort let out a sigh of dissatisfaction.

"I still don't get how this is related to our efforts in escaping here," Harry commented. "So maybe we should finally move on to the plan?"

Voldemort made a grimace of distress:

"My plan is to shake the foundations of the realm of Death by performing an act, usually reserved for the time a couple wants to create a life."

"Eh?" Harry blinked in confusion.

"To put it simple: we need to have sex. Adding some of magical power in the process. This should, in my understanding, break the spells holding us here and let us escape," with a straight face explained Voldemort.

"Sorry, what?!" Harry looked at him with wide eyes, his jaw opening and hands flailing. "You suggest for me to make love with you?! Have you lost it completely?!"

"No, I believe, I have not. Our situation is unusual in more aspects then one: we are mortal enemies; you hold a piece of my soul in you; I was resurrected with the help of your blood once, and today again regained some of myself thanks to your blood and magic. All of this should have an extra influence and add to the simplicity of the act, beside our powerful magic put into play."

Harry stared at him in shock for a long time, before finally having found the words:

"You see this all as some kind of experiment, do you not? As a clinical act, like a ritual, with a spicy bonus of sexual interaction in the process? No emotions, nothing?"

"You're correct. Almost. You're still my Horcrux."

"And that is all there is for you in it?"

"Yes."

Harry shook his head:

"I will not agree to this. Never. Nor for the sake of escaping the realm of Death. And neither for saving the world, or my friends, or whom and what else you might remind me of. You don't really understand what you are suggesting. And the absence of emotions in you is only an extra insult to this sacred 'act'. I am not doing it with you of all people. And that's final."

Having said that, Harry turned his back on the Dark Lord and started walking slowly away.

His silent walk continued for another half-hour. He didn't look back to check if the Dark Lord followed him, or remained on the spot where they had been arguing earlier.

After second half of the hour has passed as well, Harry finally lost the battle with himself and turned around.

It seemed, the Dark Lord attempted to stay back at first, but then decided against it: he was lying on his side at some distance from Harry, having made maybe half the way towards him before he collapsed either from the influence of their opponent's power, or from simple exhaustion and injuries.

Harry stood in contemplation for another ten minutes, intensely looking at the lying man, searching for a hint of deceit or falseness to his pose, after which he made the first careful step towards the lying form, then two more steps, and at last, when he thought that he'd head a faint groan from the fallen Dark Lord, Harry broke into sprint.

When Harry reached Voldemort, he was panting heavily – partly from tiredness after his run and partly from the heaviness he sensed in the air, presumably, thanks to the Reaper's powerful magical influence.

The Dark Lord laid in an unmoving heap on the ground, only his chest slowly rising and falling in a sign, that he was alive. His eyes were squinted shut, brow creased and mouth twitching – obviously, the man was conscious, but had no energy to even keep his eyes open.

Harry approached him carefully and kneeled down beside his head.

"Um, Voldemort? Tom, do you hear me?" Harry inquired lowly and hold a hand above the man's forehead uncertainly, not sure if he can touch him safely, without receiving the curse or at least an insult in response. "Are you okay?"

"I find this inquiry unclear," came the usual tricky remark. "I am certainly not well, if that was your question. If you asked permission to touch me – you are allowed," the Dark Lord nodded regally, without opening his eyes.

Harry snorted and put a hand on Voldemort's forehead, moving away a stray wet lock.

"You are running a fever," he observed.

"Magical drain," Voldemort explained. "Not very bothersome. Why did you return?"

"I am not really ready to wander this empty space with only you as a company till the end of times. We need to think of a way to leave, preferably, of the one, not involving sexual interactions of any kind. I agree to admit, that you know more than me about magic and such. Can you think of something else?"

"Even the plan I spoke of earlier is not a certain way of escape. It may or may not work, but at least there is a tiny possibility. To my knowledge there are no other options which may even remotely be as good as this plan."

"I thought so," Harry sighed with resignation. "Then how do we proceed? I don't really have too much experience with relationships, and certainly not with gay love," Harry admitted, his cheeks going red with embarrassment.

"I have little expertise in this area myself," Voldemort suddenly confessed. "Though, it seems I am still more knowledgeable one," he smirked and finally looked Harry in the eye. "I wonder," he suddenly muttered pensively, "Tell me, Harry, why do you so stubbornly bring up 'love'?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably.

"I was once told that my power is 'love', though I doubt, it matters here. Mostly, I try to think in less technical term, then 'sex', I suppose. It's scary, really," Harry mumbled.

"Do I scare you?" Voldemort asked tentatively.

"If I say 'yes', will it ruin the moment?" Harry returned.

Voldemort furrowed his brow in contemplation for a couple of seconds, then his face brightened.

"Currently I am lying on my back and you look down at me. Do you find this frightening, too?"

"You're not a serious threat to me here, when our magic is acting wonky on each other," Harry trailed off in thought.

"And I, the Dark Lord Voldemort, now have the energy of a five year old at most," Voldemort supplied helpfully.

"Right," Harry gulped, waves of nervousness from Voldemort making his own frantic heartbeat to speed up more.

"Potter, this should not necessarily be me doing all the manly parts," Voldemort suddenly offered quietly.

Harry blinked in shock.

"Wh-What do you mean?" he staggered.

"To put it in simpler terms, I can be 'the girl' in this," Voldemort replied with patience. "You can screw me, so to speak," he smirked crookedly. "Should I bring up other euphemisms?" His last phrase was laced with no small amount of sarcasm.

Furiously blushing Harry squinted his eyes, seemingly now even more scared, than he'd been before this 'kind offer' from the Dark Lord. The latter, on the contrary, paled drastically, when his own words registered and he understood, what exactly he'd offered just now. Harry, who was still not opening his eyes, didn't see it, though he felt that the Dark Lord was horrified at the prospect. Maybe, that was even worse, than just seeing the most feared Dark wizard of all times pale from such insignificant thing.

Harry let out a shuddering breath, then clenched his hands together to stop them from trembling.

"So how should I do this?" he asked in small voice. "I am still the inexperienced one of us," he reminded.

Voldemort let out a shaky breath of his own, then shifted to lay more comfortably and moved his legs slightly apart in a hint of an invitation, motioning for Harry to take the position between the dark Lord's parted and raised knees, his robe already half-raised up to his thighs.

"Do you require the full-blown lecture course, or should I guide you only through the most vital parts, which differ from making 'love' to a girl?" The Dark Lord inquired in a mildly mocking tone, emphasizing his attitude towards Harry's inclination to 'love' him.

Harry bristled, though he was still blushing violently:

"I am not a five year old, I know the basics!"

"Then, by all means, be my guest!" Voldemort made another inviting gesture towards himself. "Though I must remind you to bring the touching part to only the required minimum, as it gives me discomfort still."

Harry raised a brow:

"How do you suggest me to do it, then? Poke you with a twig?" he let out a nervous snort.

"Potter, don't be ridiculous!" Voldemort snapped. "Just do not kiss or touch me anymore than necessary!"

"Fine, fine," Harry grumbled, but didn't get to action, instead opting to freeze and ogle the half-naked Dark Lord lying in front of him with an absent look on his face. Harry's own gaze, too, was distant, his hands continuing to clench into fists and unclench nervously, fingers of opened palms trembling slightly.

"Potter!" Voldemort barked, then his tone changed to milder one. "Harry, do you have any experience whatsoever?"

"N-no," Harry croaked hoarsely and spared a brief embarrassed glance to the Dark Lord's serious face. "Maybe it'd be better for you to – ?"

"Harry," Voldemort called softly, cutting him off. "Look at me. You can do it. In fact, I would like you to do it. I wouldn't have allowed anyone but you. That's is rather logical, if you think on it thoroughly: we are two opposites, and yet we are not very different."

"We even look alike," Harry continued for him in the tone, similar to that of a person, who had seen a ghost

"Yes, we are, Harry. Our wands have similar cores. You and I share a soul. We had similar past. There is the prophecy about us."

"What are you trying to achieve, spoil the moment even more?" Harry made a grimace. "Right at this moment I am searching for something which can attract me to you, but all you suggest are the things which draw you further away from me: you are a killer, who put an end to my parents' lives and planted a piece of your black soul in me. Although our past seem to be similar, we turned out very different, morality-wise. And this ugly piece of junk you call prophecy is exactly this – an ugly piece of junk, invented by a crazy witch in a drunken haze. It means nothing to me. I don't want to be the Chosen One, because they have chosen me for a task, which makes me want to throw up, it is so inhuman."

"Harry. I am not forcing you into this. I maybe the one with a black and ugly soul, as you are saying, but I don't force angsty teenagers to have sex with me. Either you are choosing it yourself, or we can wander here some time more and think of something else."

"Didn't you say that there are nothing to think of beside this dubious plan, which may even not work for us?"

"Still, I am no rapist. Especially, if you cannot find it in you to have sex with the person of the same gender."

Harry shook his head:

"That's not it."

"Then, what is?"

"We are moving in circles: you try to turn this all into the ritual to escape this place, while I am seriously looking for anything to like about you to make this all to work. You've said it may work, if we do something of the totally opposite nature in comparison. This place is all about death. You suggested yourself to demonstrate how the life is created. 'Sex' is not the right answer."

"Harry, we cannot possibly fall in love with each other at a seconds' notice."

"True. But still, 'making love' is better, than 'having sex', when you want to show the gist of life to a Reaper."

"I don't really see your point," Voldemort admitted. "But, please, do continue with what you were doing before. We have plenty of time."

"I doubt it," Harry muttered under his breath: he saw what the lying Dark Lord could not – the wall at the horizon looked closer, Voldemort looked more ill than before now, and Harry, too, felt the heavy oppression of this place's magic bringing his back lower and lower with each passing second.

"I'd like to suggest something," Harry offered with unease.

Voldemort looked at him questioningly, not saying anything in reply.

"If you don't like something, you'd say it. I'll try my best, but – "

"That's a deal," Voldemort agreed softly.

"And if I am doing something totally stupid, you'd better not laugh!"

The Dark Lord nodded with a solemn expression.

Harry threw a brief wary glance at the still far wall, then turned towards Voldemort.