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Scratch My Itch	By : Dysperdis Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 10176 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Scratch My Itch
- 1
Author's Note: This fic was originally written for loony_lucifer as my Parsel Fest gift fic. Thanks to Indigo Cat and Charon for the excellent beta work! This is a slightly edited version of the fic that was posted for the fest. Additional warnings for minor H/G, EWE, and dub-connish situations. One year after the final battle, Harry Potter's scar began to itch. Harry, focusing intently on the report on his desk, absently reached up to scratch it, unconcerned. By the next day, he was no longer so unconcerned. His scar had not stopped itching since the previous afternoon. His skin was raw from his scratching, and none of Ginny's home remedies had done anything to ease the stubborn itch. His Healer had warned him that scars have been known to itch for years after they had healed, but this was getting a bit ridiculous. By lunch time, he had had enough. His head was sore, he couldn't concentrate, and several of the senior Aurors had made snide comments about head lice and other parasites. He rose from his desk to fire-call his Healer, intent on getting an appointment, and froze. A small part of his brain noted that the itching was suddenly gone, but the majority of his attention was focused on the ghost in front of him. “Potter.” It was impossible to mistake that syllabant hiss. Harry panicked for a moment before remembering that his long time nemesis was dead and no longer posed a threat to him, or to anyone, for that matter. “Voldemort. I thought I'd finally gotten rid of you.” The ghost opened his mouth retort, but was prevented from responding as his features began to twist before settling into the form of Tom Marvolo Riddle, as he must have appeared in his 18th year. “So, you're the child who defeated Us. Pity, I thought you'd be taller. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm-” “Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Harry did his best to imitate Snape's infamous glare. “Now, what the hell are you doing here?” The ghost glared right back at him. “As I was saying, I'm the portion of Tom Marvolo Riddle's soul that was stored in my family's ring.” Harry stared for a moment. “Yeah, that's nice, but again, what the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you rotting in Hell, or where ever it is that the souls of former Dark Lords go?” “Well obviously, We have some unfinished business-” Suddenly, his features began twisting again, forming into his 16 year old visage. “What he's trying to say is, we aren't sure. We were happily ruling a small tribal village in the Amazon rain forest that considered Us a god, when something dragged us back to Britain.” Again his features twisted, forming into a bald, but mostly human looking man. “Now, why did you have to tell him that? You never give away a potential advantage like that!” Twist. “No, you just become overconfident in your own ability and overlook potential advantages and allies!” Twist “Both of you! Knock it off!” Turning to Harry, this newest version of Voldemort– about thirty years old, and rather handsome, Harry noted absently– looked over the younger man. Harry, already uncomfortable after witnessing the argument, shifted under his gaze. “We have a proposition for you. Help Us determine why we have been drawn to you and how we can solve this- little issue-” he sneered, “and you'll never have to see us again. You can continue on with your life, and we'll continue on with our death.” Harry looked at the dead man standing in front of him. There was no way he could trust the ghost, yet there really didn't seem to be much else he could do. “Let me think it over. I'll have an answer for you tomorrow.” The ghost thought it over for a few moments before nodding. “That is acceptable. I'll expect an answer from you in twenty-four hours.” With that, he floated through the door. Harry reached into a drawer, pulling out a box of Floo powder. It looked like he still had a firecall to make, after all.

*~*~*

“But Harry! How can you even think of helping him after all that he's done?” Harry winced. Much as he loved his fiancée, he would rather face a herd of rampaging hippogriffs than Ginny Weasley in a bad mood. “I know Gin, believe me! But what's the alternative? We're stuck with him unless we can find a way to get rid of him!” “But what if it's a trap? What if he's just trying to lure you in and attack you while your guard is down?” “Then I deal with it. Hey, I'm the Boy-Who-Lived for a reason, you know.” Ginny smiled weakly. She looked like she was about to argue with him some more, but finally, she gave in. “Alright, I do see your point, and I really don't want that bastard around for any longer than necessary. Just promise me that you'll be careful.” Harry wrapped an arm around the red-haired woman. “I promise, Gin. I love you, you know.” “Yes, I know.” Ginny sighed. “I just don't want to risk anything taking you away from me.” She started walking towards Harry's small, but serviceable, kitchen. “I'm sure you've had a long day. How about a drink before dinner?” Harry smiled, feeling like a very lucky man indeed, to have such a wonderful fiancée.

*~*~*

At noon, Harry was sitting in his office waiting for the ghost. After his talk with Ginny, he'd had a similar discussion with his two best friends. Ron had been surprisingly easy to convince, but as he pointed out, “The sooner you're rid of the git, the better.” Hermione had been more difficult to sway, but the opportunity to help with a project like this was too much for her to pass by. Thus, when Voldemort floated though the door at 12:02, he was prepared. “Voldemort.” “Potter. Have you decided?” Voldemort wasted no time getting to the matter at hand. “Yes. I'll help you, provided that you agree to leave Britain once we have found the solution, and that during your stay in Britain, you make no attempts to influence the politics in this country either directly or indirectly.” Voldemort nodded. “That is acceptable. Now, are you ready to hear what I have already determined?” Harry nodded, dipping his quill into his inkwell. “Very well. First of all, I was drawn here by a force, over a period of time consisting of about 24 hours. There was no visible presence...”

*~*~*

“...And he reported that he could easily travel within a one kilometer radius of my location, but after that he had difficulty, and he could not travel more than five kilometers away from me.” Hermione hummed. “Well, I've never heard of a haunting quite like this, though it does sound similar to the case of Gwendolyn Black, who in 1416 wrote that her late husband's ghost was only visible when he was near her wedding ring- oh, but that was only because their wedding oath...” As Hermione continued on about the late Mrs. Black, Harry contemplated the situation. Why now? It had been a full year since Voldemort had cast that final spell with the Elder Wand. So, what had changed? “...But I really think that I should look that up, to see whether it may be helpful- Harry, are you listening?” Harry grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, 'Mione. My mind was wandering a bit. I just can't stop wondering why this is happening now. I mean, why not a year ago?” Hermione shook her head. “That's what we're trying to figure out. Did he mention which portion of the soul was 'out' at the time?” “No, I didn't.” Harry and Hermione's heads whipped around to stare at the ghost, who currently looked to be in his mid-thirties. “I thought you were going to make yourself scarce?” “Why should I be excluded from this? It does concern me, after all. If you're so worried about it, I promise I'll play nice with your Mudblood here.” Harry was preparing a retort to the insult when Hermione put a hand on his arm. “Much as I hate to say it, he's right. For once.” She shot the last bit at the smirking ghost, who looked slightly insulted. “Anyways, we need more details. I can deal with his insults- I mean, really, even Malfoy was more threatening than he is right now.” The ghost definitely looked insulted at that, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Harry sighed. “Fine. I just- well-” He floundered a bit. Hermione smiled. “You're just feeling protective of a friend.” Harry nodded. “I understand the feeling- how do you think I felt when you told me about this?” The two friends smiled at each other, until the moment was broken as Voldemort feigned vomiting. “Can you save this insipid, fluffy moment for later? Preferably when I won't have to witness it?” “Fine. Now, can you tell us, in detail, what was happening when you first felt this draw? Did anything unusual happen prior to the event?” As Voldemort began talking, Hermione's quill flew along the parchment in front of her. Harry grinned at the picture the two made, with the former Dark Lord and the Muggleborn swot trading insults and information.

*~*~*

It was two weeks later that Harry first started having the dreams. He was pressed against a chest as hands roamed his body. He couldn't tell who it was behind him, but he knew it wasn't Ginny- the chest was too firm, the hands too large. There was a whisper in his ear, and he could feel the brush of stubble against his cheek. “Harry” That voice... Harry woke up to sticky sheets the next morning.

*~*~*

A month passed, and they were no closer to finding a solution to the problem. Voldemort, who had originally attempted to put as much distance as possible between him and his former enemy, had finally given in to the draw and was now haunting Harry's house, much to Ginny's chagrin. “I don't trust him!” “Neither do I, Gin, but what can he do? He's a ghost!” “That doesn't make him harmless! He can still convince others to hurt you, you know. I'm sure that Malfoy would love to help his Lord get revenge!” Harry sighed and put down his cup. “Ginny, I know he upsets you, but I'm trying as hard as I can.” “Well, it's not good enough!” Tears had started to fill the red-head's eyes by this point, and Harry melted. “Gin, I'm doing the best I can. I don't want him around either, you know. I promise, I'll be rid of him soon, and then we can have that dream wedding you've been wanting.” She looked up, a small smile on her face. “You promise?” He hugged her. “Cross my heart.” Looking on from the shadows, the ghost of 18 year old Tom Marvolo Riddle watched as her smile changed from innocent to smug. She may not trust me, he thought, but I don't trust her much either.

*~*~*

“We're becoming less distinct.” Harry looked up from the book he was reading. “Sorry?” “The various segments of Our soul are becoming less distinct. So far, the segment from Nagini and the one that was in Our original body have almost fully merged.” “And you didn't think it was important to tell me this earlier?” The ghost looked embarrassed. “Unfortunately, we didn't notice it until this morning. We think that our 18 year old self and our 16 year old self are beginning to merge as well. Finally, the segment of Us which resided in your scar seems to have some sort of growth.” Harry thought this over. “Have there been any other changes? Changes in the distance you can travel, or something?” “I'm not sure, though I was planning on checking.” “Alright. You do that, and I'll Floo 'Mione.” Twenty minutes later, Voldemort returned to see Harry and Hermione sitting at the table. “-But that would mean you'd just have to wait it out.” “Wait what out?” Hermione looked up. “Oh, it's part of a theory I found- I'll explain it after you tell us what you found out.” “For the most part, We can travel the same distances We were originally able to-” “-For the most part?” Hermione interrupted. The ghost glared at her. “As I was saying, the exception seems to be when the segment that was lodged in Harry's scar is out, at which time Our range is greatly reduced.” Hermione didn't miss the way the Ghost referred to his former nemesis as Harry, rather than Potter as had been his habit, but chose to ignore it. “That sounds about right, given the theory I found. Listen: 'When a person is used as a Horcrux, their soul may contaminate the fragment they are being used to store. Thus, if said Horcrux is destroyed while the container remains alive, the soul may not pass on until any remaining contaminants have collected and passed on to their original source. One example of this is Landon the Large, who's right hand was used as a Horcrux by the Dark Lady Rhiannon.' It goes on to mention some of the effects, including an inability to travel away from the container, and shared dreams.” Harry started at the last bit. “Wait, shared dreams? Wha- what kind of dreams?” Harry's face turned red. During the past month, he had had that same dream almost every time he fell asleep. “There isn't much information, though one person mentioned that they were rather intimate in nature. I can only assume he meant-” Voldemort cut her off. “Alright, let's move on from the dreams. What can we do about this?” Hermione shrugged. “Wait it out, I guess. I haven't come across any other solution, and the records suggest that you should be free of each other within a year- “What?” Twin cries of dismay rose from the two men. “Well, there was one case, where- but no, that won't work.” “Why not?” “Yeah, why not?” “Because to make it work, you'd need a human sacrifice.” Harry blanched, while Voldemort looked pensive. “I think I may have heard of the ritual you're talking about...” Harry glared at the ghost. “We are not doing anything that requires a human sacrifice.” “But, Potter-” “No!” “Fine.” The ghost floated over to a corner, sulking. Hermione's eyes had gone wide at the exchange. “Did he just-?” Harry nodded. “He's been having some strange personality shifts lately- I think it may have to do with the merging. And he's started calling me Harry, did you notice?” Hermione bit her lip, humming. “I think I need to do a bit more research on this. Let me know if anything else changes, alright?” “Alright.” Harry hugged his friend, and watched as she Flooed home. He turned to the restless spirit, who was still sulking. “Oh, knock it off. You didn't honestly think I'd agree to a human sacrifice, did you?” “...No.” “Well, that's settled. Seriously, you're acting like your 16 year old self...” Harry trailed off. “Wait, exactly how much are your pieces melding?” “At this point, We're no longer completely distinguishable. Which means that every time my 16 year old self goes into a sulk, the rest of Us are affected by it. I shall try to keep it from happening again.” Harry smiled. “Nah, it makes you seem more- I dunno- human, I guess. I never really thought of you being a moody teen or anything, you were always just this giant embodiment of evil.” Harry realized who he was talking to, and clamped his jaw shut. Shutting the book in front of him, he sighed. “Well, Ginny's expecting me. I'll talk to you later, I guess.” The young man smiled awkwardly at the ghost, who, to his horror, felt himself return the smile. “Later, then.” he echoed, turning to float through the wall. Harry watched as his old enemy disappeared, and then, with a sigh, went to face his fiancée.

*~*~*

That night, Harry's dream changed. The hand was still there, and the warm, smooth, firm chest, but there was something new. “I wonder, is this that shared dream she was speaking of? Or merely a figment of my imagination? Ghosts don't sleep, so how can I be dreaming?” “V-voldemort?” The hands stilled. “A stupid name- I thought I was so smart, coming up with that, you know. How did I become so stupid?” Harry turned around, at last taking a look at the man who had haunted his dreams for the last few weeks. “I thought I'd be so great- how did I become so horrible?” Harry could practically see the segments of Voldemort's soul melding together. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to hold the image steady, but somehow he knew he was talking to Tom Riddle, or at least, what Tom Riddle could have been. “Volde-” “No! Don't call me that! That name is disgusting!” Harry paused. This man was so incredibly different from the Voldemort he had spoken to only hours before. “What happened?” “I saw it, Harry- I saw it all, all my actions laid out, all my flaws highlighted for me to see. There were these strange emotions, and it hurt! Gods, did it hurt. And it's all because of your stupid soul!” At that, the older man collapsed, nearly knocking Harry off his feet. Harry stood there, shocked- in all his life, he'd never dreamed he would be in his current position. “I don't want to feel any more. Every time I have one of these dreams, I feel more and more, I see more and more. And I can't take it.” Harry, unsure of what to say, simply held on to the man, rocking him and letting him talk until he finally fell silent and his breathing evened out, as if in sleep. For the first time since these dreams began, Harry woke to a dry sheet.

*~*~*

Harry spent the next day quietly watching the resident ghost. At first, it seemed like whatever had affected him so within the dream was forgotten, yet Harry noticed that there was a tremble to his hands, and he kept sneaking nervous glances at the young man. Voldemort, for his part, spent the day in his post-resurrection form, skulking about and glaring at Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and even Ron, who had dropped by with an invitation to dinner from his mother. His skulking eventually brought him to the kitchen, where Ginny was making tea for Harry. Intent on harassing the woman, the ghost sneaked up behind her, only to freeze as she pulled a bottle out of her pocket and, with a quick glance toward the door, she poured a splash of the potion into the cup. Even without his sense of smell, the mother-of-pearl sheen of the potion gave away its identity. “Amorentia,” he breathed. Ginny heard him and whirled about, nearly knocking over the teapot. She started to scream, and, acting on instinct, he dove into her, possessing her. The ghost forced her to pour the tea into the sink, but before he could get her to empty the bottle, Harry burst into the room, wand drawn. “Ginny! Are you alright?” The interruption broke Voldemort's concentration, and allowed Ginny to push him out of her. “Harry! That-that THING just possessed me! I want it out of here!” She shrieked, ducking behind her fiancé as if for protection. The ghost stood, aghast. “You want to accuse ME of something? You were the one who was trying to feed him potions! Harry, she put some of this,” he gestured to the potion bottle sitting on the counter, “into your tea.” Harry picked up the bottle and looked at it. Eyes wide, he sniffed it. “Gi-ginny, is this true?” “No! Of course not! You know who this is, Harry! Why would you trust him?” “Well, for starters, he's a ghost. He couldn't very well be responsible for that being here, could he?” “He's already tried to possess me once today, he's probably done it before! After all, you've been obsessed with him since he showed up- he's obviously been drugging you!” “Obsessed? What the hell are you talking about?” “You know damn well what I'm talking about. You're always going on about him, and don't think I don't know about those dreams you've been having.” Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “Ginny! I don't want him hanging around me! I love you!” Out of the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw the former Dark Lord's face fall, but he dismissed it as a trick of the light. “I'm trying to get rid of him for you!” “That's not enough! Dammit Harry, you're mine! Not his! You belong to me!” Ginny had gotten a wild look in her eye by this point, and was advancing on Harry. “Ginny-” “Don't you 'Ginny' me! I've worked too damn hard to make mine, and I'm not going to let some ghost ruin things for me!” “Ginny, you know I love you-” Harry tried to pacify the woman, but she wasn't having it. Quick as a flash, she grabbed his arm. “No, Harry, you don't, do you? That's alright, though, I'll fix that.” Harry tried to pull away, but Ginny's insanity- as well as growing up with six older brothers- had made her far stronger than she looked. Voldemort, who had up till now been waiting for the best time to act, dove in to her again, and forced her to let go. As soon as her grip had loosened, Harry grabbed his wand from its holster and shot a stunner at her. The threat now neutralized, Harry quickly Flooed Ron. Ten minutes later, Ron sat in Harry's kitchen, along with his parents and Percy, who had been visiting them when he called. “-And that's when I stunned her.” Harry finished his tale, looking down into his glass of unadulterated water. The Weasleys looked aghast upon hearing of the behavior of their youngest family member. Percy was the first to break the silence. “Maybe we should be going to St. Mungo's.” His parents turned to him, mouths agape. “I mean, there's obviously something causing her to act this way.” Ron nodded. “Yeah, I agree. I love her, but she's been acting kind of weird lately. I mean, I've never really thought about it, but she gets weird around Harry. I know that a couple of the guys at work have had aftereffects from traumatic stuff for years, and you've got to admit, Ginny hasn't been the same since her first year, with the basilisk and everything...” Ron trailed off. “But, isn't this all so drastic? I mean, St. Mungo's-” “-Is the perfect place to send someone who was trying to feed their fiancé Amorentia.” The ghost, who had remained silent until now, interjected. “I know you don't trust me, but if I were lying, they'd figure it out soon enough at St. Mungo's, and if I'm telling the truth, it will be the best place for her to get help.” The red haired family stared at the ghost warily. While they had every reason to distrust the spirit, his suggestion had been too reasonable to dismiss. Finally, Arthur, who had yet to speak, gave his thoughts. “I hate to say it, but I agree with You-Know-Who.” The ghost rolled his eyes. “There's nothing to lose by doing this, and if it does help Ginny, so much the better.” “But Arthur!” “No Mrs. Weasley, he's right. I really care about Ginny, but she has a problem.” He rolled up his sleeve to show Molly the bruises that were starting to form on his arm. “She scared me this afternoon, and taking a look at our past, there are some incidents which I see in a different light. The way she would on occasion practically force me to drink something that she'd mixed up out of my sight. The way she expected me to do whatever she wanted, despite how unreasonable or unrealistic it seemed. The number of references to how hard she worked to get me, and how possessive she was of me, as if I were an object she owned. I'm scared because I don't know how much of my concern for her is due to a potion. She needs help, Mrs. Weasley, and the mind healers at St. Mungo's are the best ones to help her.” Tears were running down Molly's face by that point. As much as she wished to deny it, she knew that her daughter was sick. “How? How did I miss it? What kind of mother am I, that I can't see when my daughter needs help?” Arthur pulled his wife into a hug as she began sobbing. Percy and Ron looked at each other, and Percy nodded before leaving the room to Floo St. Mungo's.

*~*~*

The healers at St. Mungo's found a number of lesions in Ginny's brain, most likely stemming from her possession in her first year at Hogwarts. It was with a tearful face that Molly Weasley listened to the Healer explain that at this time, it would be much safer for Ginny to remain institutionalized for the time being as they helped her deal with the effects of the damage. It wouldn't be permanent, he reminded her, in a few years time, she could likely return to being a productive member of society, but all Molly could think was that they were locking up her little girl. She watched, numb, as her husband signed the form that would let them keep her little girl locked away, and, when Arthur handed her the quill, she took it with a shaking hand. A part of her wanted to break the quill, tear up the parchment, and demand that they give her little girl back to her. She signed the parchment, put down the quill, and stood up. “Excuse me, I think I need to use the washroom.” She walked out of the room and, with an eerie calmness, made her way to the restroom. Once there, she locked the door and started to sob. Back in the office, the Healer shook Arthur's hand. “I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley. I know this is an extremely difficult situation, and I'm sorry that you and your wife have to suffer through this.” Arthur looked up at the man. “Don't apologize; just help my baby girl, please.” The Doctor nodded. “We'll do the very best we can.”

*~*~*

Harry avoided the ghost. He found that employing his meager knowledge of Occlumency was enough to block the dreams. Voldemort was quiet and withdrawn, making himself scarce whenever Ron or Hermione dropped by. Two weeks after Ginny was committed, Harry came home from work to find that the kitchen light was on. Harry generally made a point of turning off the lights each day before he left for work- a lesson which the Dursleys had drilled into him, and which he had never forgotten- but he shrugged it off. He walked into the living room and sat down, prepared to spend the night relaxing and watching the telly. He was still looking for the remote when a voice from the top of the stairs made him freeze. “Oh, Harry, you're so predictable.” Harry looked up, shocked. “Ginny, what are you doing here?” “Oh, silly. You don't think I'd let a little thing like St. Mungo's keep me from you?” Harry took a step back, and Ginny started down the stairs. “You're mine, Harry, and don't you forget it.” Harry dashed to the fireplace, and had actually managed to throw a handful of Floo powder into the hearth, when Ginny grabbed him. “Oh, Harry, why would you want to do something like that?” Pushing him down, she held his hands above his head. “We're going to have so much fun tonight, love, and you'll remember why you love me.” She pulled one hand away, and went to undo the buttons on Harry's shirt. Before she could undo the first button, though, a silver blur dove into her body, and she froze. “Let go of him, you bitch!” Came out of her mouth, though it wasn't her voice. The woman practically flew off of the young man, landing on the ground with a thud. Harry scrambled up and rushed over to the fireplace to Floo St. Mungo's. As he was waiting for someone to answer, he heard a yell behind him. “Oh no you don't!” He looked around to see Ginny, who had managed to pick up the fireplace poker and was wielding it like a weapon. “I won't let you get away from me now!” Just as she was about to swing, though, Voldemort, using every last ounce of willpower, manage to wrest control of the body away from her long enough to force her to bash her head against the wall with all her might. The woman collapsed in an ungainly heap, and Harry, dazed, could only listen as a voice from the fireplace talked. “Hello? You have reached St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. Hello? Is this an emergency situation?” Harry shook himself out of his daze. “Yes! Help! There's someone here with a head injury- oh, Merlin, I don't know if she's breathing.” “Stand back, sir, I'm sending someone through.” Harry pulled himself away from the fire and watched, in shock, as two Mediwizards stepped through to to examine the woman he had been planning to marry.

*~*~*

Yet again, Molly Weasley sat in that cold, sterile office. Brain dead, they said. No chance of recovery, they said. Better to let her go, they said. This time, when they handed her the quill, she couldn't sign. She couldn't give up her baby girl. She couldn't lose another child, not like this.

*~*~*

That night, Harry's Occlumency shield failed. When he reached the dream, Tom was waiting for him. All at once, the events of the past weeks caught up with him, and he snapped. “You bastard,” He shouted, swinging wildly at Tom. “It's all your fault! It wasn't bad enough that you tried to kill her when she was eleven- oh no! You had to really hurt her! Why? Haven't you done enough?” Harry kept swinging, raining blows down on the other man, who made no move to defend himself. “Why do you have to take everyone away from me? Why?” Eventually, he stopped swinging and fell to his knees, crying. “What did she ever do to deserve this? What did any of them do?” Tom, ignoring his injuries, wrapped his arms around the young man. “I'm sorry, oh Merlin, I didn't realize, I didn't see- no, I saw, but I didn't feel- I'm sorry.” This time, it was Tom's turn to hold the other man through the night.

*~*~*

The next day, Harry was shocked to see that the Ghostly Voldemort had a blackened eye and a swollen lip. “Did I-?” The ghost nodded and shrugged. “It's alright. It's not like you can do too much damage to me, after all, you've already killed me.” This was enough to shock a smile out of the man, but it only lasted a moment before his face grew serious again. “Why are you being so nice? I mean, you've been the Dark Lord Voldemort, and generally an absolute bastard for so long, and suddenly, you've started letting me beat the shit out of you and joking about it. What the hell is going on?” The ghost sighed. “Well, it seems that the bit of your soul that's been mixed with mine is having a greater effect than I've anticipated. Unfortunately, I've now experienced all of my actions as you would have experienced them, which has not been pleasant. And speaking of which, I believe I've already mentioned that the name 'Voldemort' was juvenile and far less clever than I once believed.” “Alright, so you'd rather I call you Tom?” The former Dark Lord snorted. “I was thinking 'Marvolo,' actually. A good, strong, Wizarding name.” Harry had to smile at that. He may not be the same sociopath who had sought out the destruction of an entire race, but Tom Marvolo Riddle would always view Wizards as superior to Muggles. The ghost in question interrupted his thoughts. “I have to ask, did you mean it when you said you didn't want me hanging around? I recall that you weren't too enthusiastic about me being here at the start, but it seemed like you were enjoying our conversation.” “Yes- no- I'm not sure. Just, give me some time, alright?” The ghost nodded. At this point, it was the best he could hope for.

*~*~*

From that point on, the dreams became a safe neutral ground for the two to talk. Marvolo kept his distance, physically at least, but used every means at his disposal to get inside Harry's mind. He spoke of his early life, his hopes, and his dreams, allowing Harry to relate to him on a mental level- after all, how could Harry not relate when they had both had such similar childhoods?– while his every movement was calculated to draw Harry's mind to his physical attributes. Harry, for his part, couldn't help but miss the physical intimacy of the earlier dreams. He had enjoyed the feeling of having strong arms around him, not to mention the other sensations. He often woke from these new dreams in need of a short cold shower- or a long, warm shower, if he had enough time before work.

*~*~*

About a month after the final devastating confrontation with Ginny, Harry decided to clean out the Black family library. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, as Harry had been working on the old house on and off for the last year, but until now he had avoided the library, fearful of the damage his lack of knowledge could cause in a room full of cursed books. With Marvolo's help, though, he felt sure he could tackle it. At the moment, Marvolo was helping Harry decide which books to keep and which to get rid of. “Keep, sell, sell, toss, keep, toss, sell, keep-whoa!” Harry stopped. “Whoa?” “Quick, flip to page 209.” Harry stared at the ghost. “Well? Are you going to or not?” Rolling his eyes, the young man flipped the book open to the designated page. “Um, Marvolo, I haven't changed my mind about human sacrifices.” “Keep reading. There! It says that the sacrifice must be a 'living body bereft of a soul.' And I'm sure- turn the page, would you? Yes! 'To separate souls bound unnaturally, the release of a life held unnaturally is required.” Surely you can't disagree with that, can you? And you'd finally be free of me.” Harry wasn't sure why the thought of being without his former enemy sounded so distasteful, but he ignored those feelings. “And I'm sure that the fact that you'd get a body out of it means nothing?” The ghost scoffed. “Please, even with a body I'd be nothing more than a squib. Magic is tied to the life force of the body, and once the original life force leaves the body, the magic will desert it. Still, it would be nice to be able to eat again, I suppose...” Harry rolled his eyes. “And where am I supposed to get a body?” “Well...” One week later, Ginevra Weasley disappeared from St. Mungo's Hospital. An hour later, she reappeared, only to take her final breaths. No one noticed until the spells monitoring her vital signs began to sound their alarms.

*~*~*

The night before the ritual, Harry met Marvolo in his mind for the final time. Neither spoke for what seemed like hours before Harry, in his usual Gryffindor way, decided that he'd had enough. “Look, it's not like we won't be able to talk after this, right? So why are we acting like this is some sad goodbye?” The other man let a smile cross his face. It didn't take much longer for the two to resume chatting as usual, and that morning, as Harry enjoyed his warm shower, he didn't notice the name that fell from his lips as he stroked himself. Nor did he notice the ghost, who let loose a true grin as he listened to the words coming from the mouth of the young man.

*~*~*

As the ritual drew to a close, Harry gaped at the man standing before him. Harry had never really considered a man attractive before, but he couldn't stop staring. This new body was, well, hot. He saw Marvolo's predatory grin and realized he'd been staring. “So, Harry, do you still not want me hanging around? Do you still want me to leave?” Dumbly, Harry shook his head. Marvolo reached out and grasped Harry's shoulders. “Thank you. Now, I can finally do what I've wanted to for the last two months.” “Wha-” Harry's question was cut off as lips crashed against his own. As many times as he had felt those lips in his dreams, they felt so much better in real life. Before he knew it, Marvolo had him pressed against the wall, were he moved to attack the younger man's neck hungrily. “Oh, God!” “Only to a small tribe in the Amazon rain forest.” Harry growled as Marvolo's lips moved away from his neck. He was soothed, however, as that mouth returned to its previous activities, and when the older man reached to undo the buttons on his shirt, Harry let out a breathy moan. “Please, hurry.” A sharp nip at his throat and a muffled murmur of “patience, Harry.” was the response. The fingers moved to undo the button on his slacks, which were soon lying on the floor and which were shortly joined by his pants. Marvolo began kissing and nipping his way down the slightly furred plain of Harry's chest and abdomen, stopping occasionally to examine any spots that seemed particularly sensitive. Each cry and moan he drew from the younger man went straight to his cock, and by the time he reached Harry's leaking prick, he was so hard he ached. Unable to deny himself, he drew in a deep breath, savoring the musky scent. He blew across the head of the cock in front of him, eliciting a whimper from its owner. Giving up all pretense of self control, he wrapped his lips around Harry's cock and began sucking with abandon. He only slowed down when Harry began speaking in broken sentences. “Coming, I'm gonna– oh, god!– I'm gonna come–” With a final swipe of his tongue against the head of the cock in front of him, Marvolo pulled back and whispered a spell. As Harry began to realize what just happened, one thing immediately came to mind. “Hey! I thought you said you wouldn't have any magic?” “Now, why would I say something like that?” Before Harry could respond, he resumed sucking the young man's cock. Harry made a mental note to be angry at Marvolo later, very angry, but at the moment the mouth on his cock was just too much to resist. Marvolo smirked as Harry practically melted under his ministrations. He moved a finger to circle Harry's opening, before slowly sliding his finger into the tight hole. Harry moaned at the sensation. “More... please!” The older man complied, pulling out his finger only to reinsert it along with another digit. Massaging the wall of the passage, Marvolo searched for the small lump of Harry's prostate. Harry bucked and came with a groan as the fingers of the other man pressed against the sensitive nub. Without warning, Harry's legs gave out on him. Marvolo caught him before he could hit the ground, and held him steady. He had nearly come himself when Harry had spilled his seed, but managed to hold himself back. It only took a few minutes for Harry to revive enough to stand on his own, and as soon as he no longer needed to hold the young man up, Marvolo spun him around and pressed him against the wall. “You didn't think we were finished, did you?” He started to massage Harry's hole with a still lubricated finger before slipping first one, then two fingers into the young man. It was all Harry could do to remain standing as Marvolo fingered his arse. Finally, the older man whispered the spell yet again, and spread the lubricant over his own cock. Lining it up with Harry's entrance, he whispered into the young man's ear. “Oh, how I've wanted to see you here, ready to take my cock. Tell me, have you ever been with a man before?” Harry shook his head. “N-no. Only you.” Marvolo nipped at Harry's jaw. “Excellent.” And with that, he began to press in to Harry's virgin arse. Harry cried out as the head of Marvolo's cock breeched his hole. It hurt, but when Marvolo began to stroke his cock, the pain became unimportant. When the head of the other man's cock rubbed up against that nub, Harry cried out and pushed back as disjointed sentences and inane murmurs fell from his lips. Marvolo answered back with murmurs of his own, whispering an unbroken stream of endearments and obscenities into the ear of the man beneath him. Before long, he knew he was about to come, and he began stroking Harry's prick quickly. “Come for me, Harry.” Harry let out a guttural cry as he fell over the edge, drawing Marvolo with him. The two men collapsed onto the floor, still connected. Harry barely heard Marvolo's quiet “Accio blanket” before he passed out. Marvolo managed to stay conscious long enough to haphazardly pull the blanket over the two of them, but once that was done, he too was quickly unconscious.

*~*~*

The two men woke up when they heard someone Floo in. “Harry!” Harry sat up, clutching the blanket around him. “Hermione! What are you doing here?” “Well, I came to tell you the news about Ginny, but I expect you already know.” She looked around the room, sighing. “I should have known. It's exactly the same as what happened to Drusilla Prince in 1561, when the soul of the Dark Lady Lucretia became attached to her...” She trailed off. Harry, who was expecting screaming rather than resigned mumbling, looked up. “Aren't you, you know...?” “I'm not sure. I feel like I should be angry, but, well... Molly hasn't been doing so well lately. At least this way, she'll have some closure, and she'll never have to know that her daughter died of anything but natural causes. I think- I'll need some time to think it over.” The brunette started towards the Floo. Grasping a handful of Floo Powder, she turned back to her old friend. “And you may want to get dressed. You're lucky that I Flooed you rather than Molly, or Ron, for that matter.” With that, she tossed the powder into the fireplace, and, calling out “the Burrow,” she disappeared. Harry looked over at the man beside him, who had propped his head up on his hand while the discussion was going on. With a groan, he climbed to his feet, and made his way up the stairs to the shower.

*~*~*

Epilogue: Two years after the final battle, Harry sat, not behind a desk in the Auror's office, but at a table outside of a small café in France. Marvolo had lived up to his end of the original agreement, and left Britain after they had found a solution for their problem, though at the time, he hadn't expected Harry to leave the country with him. They had settled almost immediately in Paris, where Tom had easily been able to build an identity- with the help of his lover's considerable wealth- as Marvolo Riddle, a 30 year old British wizard who left the country to escape the stain of the Riddle name. No one quite dared to challenge the man, and it took very little time to build up a new life. Harry sat, sipping his coffee and watching the people walk by, when an arm wrapped around his chest and pulled him back. He shuddered as he felt his lover's breath against his ear. “Harry. I've got this terrible itch- think you could help me scratch it?”
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Scratch My Itch