As he saw the long, pale arm stretch out, wand raised, he did nothing. How could he? There was nothing to do; his beloved was trying to kill him. Death was better than a life like that. "Avada Kedavra," Voldemort shouted, and Harry stood, unmoving, prepared to face Death. His final thought was, 'I love you Tom.'

As the small body crumpled to the ground Voldemort felt the boy's last words reverberate through his mind. 'I love you Tom.' Only one person had ever said that and Potter could not be him. But even as he thought that Tom realized what had been nagging him about the boy since he'd first seen him. Harry's eyes were a startling shade of green, bright as the killing curse. Tom had only seen that color once before. "Jason!" it was the scream of a hopeless man that echoed through the forest as the Dark Lord held the body of the boy he'd just killed, the only person who had ever loved him.

This is meant to be a drabble but may become the Preface of a proper story if anyone shows interest (i.e. review requesting more).