Hate Me

I wrote this oneshot for Gamma Orionis's OTP Bootcamp Challenge.

In this bootcamp, we were given 50 prompts and we're encouraged to use them (all if we can) writing only about our OTP. As my subscribers know, my OTP is HarryxVoldemort/HPTR/HPLV/HarryMort, whatever you want to call them.

This is my third oneshot. Prompt: letter.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to Harry Potter. I'm just sprinkling this fandom with my love! ~

The Dark Lord was just preparing to start a meeting when a barn owl knocked on the window. He looked carefully at the bird and not recognizing it, he started to check the seemingly innocuous letter for hexes or tracking charms. Finding nothing, he relieved the bird of its burden, for the owl to quickly fly away the next second.

Apparently, the sender wasn't waiting for an answer.

He opened the creamy envelope and took note of the careful calligraphy of the sender, recognizing the handwriting instantly. It had been five years since he last saw it – from Quirrel's perspective. Five years, and his writing hadn't changed.

What could the boy possibly write about?

Dear Voldemort,

I have no idea what possessed me to write you this letter.

It seems that at some point in my life, I have begun to realize that my life, in more ways than just one, revolves around you. You are, for better or for worse, the only constant that I could cling to. People fear your name, but I never did. Not like them, anyway. I felt privileged to be the only one who could say it. To me, you were something untouchable, unreachable, strong - a murderer, the man who condemned me to a life of hell with magic hating Muggles. So I hated you before I even knew how to hate.

I was too young to understand then, but my insecurity only started to fade after seeing you before the Mirror of Erised for the first time. You were a Voice, not a face – I refuse to believe that thing in the back of Quirrel's head could ever resemble you. And I was terrified to discover that the Mirror reflected your face among flames, your face between the faces of my parents. I wanted you, the real you, I needed you.

In my second year, I was also too young, but meeting your Diary triggered a change in me.

You were beautiful. Not in the charismatic way you drew everyone in – you were beautiful inside the Chamber, speaking about your past, present and future, and you were just so human that it hurt. If you hadn't taken Ginny away, I might have let you have your way, because you were just that – just so painfully beautiful as you spoke passionately about what you believed in. That was your face, but not quite.

Now I wish I had kept the Diary. It was as close to you as I could get. How stupid of me to let go of you like that!

You came back fully in my fourth year. I was terrified, because you were no longer beautiful. You spoke of vengeance, of murder, and you made me duel you as soon as you were done. You called your Death Eaters, so that they witness your return. It was bitter, that meeting, and I resented you for it. There were many things I wanted to say to you, and I was denied everything. It was not about us anymore - you belonged to them, to the world.

You sent me dreams after that, and you allowed people to slander me for spreading the news of your return. My feelings, my unborn desire to understand your point of view, to just understand you, were squashed little by little during that long, painful year.

You let me suffer at the hands of people like Snape and Umbridge, despite claiming that I „was yours to kill". I would have never let anyone threaten you – you were also mine to fight!

Your Death Eater killed my godfather that year. Did you set her up to it? Or did she really hate Sirius so much that she would kill her own cousin, blood of her blood?

I suppose it doesn't matter anymore, he won't come back from the dead.

I wanted to tell you something that day – but either your Death Eater or the Headmaster were always there.

When you possessed me it hurt, because you did it for your own amusement. You did it to get back at Dumbledore. Why do you always make it a point how you want me dead when your war is obviously fought against Dumbledore?

It's obvious that you hate him personally, hate him properly. I need a prophecy to get a feeble attempt on my life.

I can't help but to feel jealous.

I want your eyes only on me, your wand trained only on me. I want you in my dreams because you want to be there, not because you want to drag me off to the Ministry. I want you to either fight me seriously, or to stop fighting me completely.

And I will stop fighting you.

Somewhere along the way, the fight turned into something else. I can't breathe easily unless I see your face at least once a year, and you are my last thought when going to sleep and my first when I wake up. I search for snakes in the forest because I'm trying to get closer to you, to speak the language that only the two of us understand. You've been alone your entire life, but you didn't have to be anymore. I was here all along, and I the closest to understanding you.

I don't want an answer to this letter, and I will not say such things again. You've already made your choice.

You stole my heart. I just wanted to steal two minutes from you.

Yours to kill,

Harry J. Potter

„Dismissed!" Lord Voldemort hissed, and the Death Eaters hurried outside the room. They hadn't seen their Lord so angry since the Department of Mysteries fiasco.

Earlier that day:

A bunch of drunk Gryffindors sat in a circle in the Common Room, one bottle of Butterbeer spinning in the middle.

"Hey Harry, truth of dare?" asked Dean

"Daaaa...re" said Harry, giggling.

"I daaare you to" hic „write You-Know-Who" hic "a love letter" hic " And to make it sound" hic "believable"

"Whaaat? You crazy, Dean? He'll kill me!"

"He'll kill you anyway, Harry" Ron chipped in, rolling on the floor, laughing his head off.

"Ron, mate, you know how to cheer a doomed man" Harry laughed.

"A dare is a dare, Harry" Neville said.

"Okay, let me get a quill and some parchment" Harry giggled. "Hermione is going to kill me!"

Everyone howled with laughter. A good thing they had thought to place silencing wards around them before getting drunk.

"So what should I write? I think about you all the time, you eyes are red like bloody rubies and you skin is as white as snow?"

"Ewww, no! Say that you're jealous of his Death Eaters!" said Ron

"Say you want to snog him" chipped in Seamus.

"Say you're his soul mate!" said Dean.

"Say you clipped his picture from the newspaper and framed it and look at it every day!" said Colin.

"Say that you want to bang him!" cried Lavender, and all boys made throw-up noises.

"I know, I know!" said Harry. "I'll say I'm fascinated by him! And I'll be jealous and possessive, that should sound real enough" giggled Harry.

Back to present:

Harry woke up with a killer hangover, and strangely with no nightmares.

He couldn't remember what he had done the previous night, but he had a deep feeling of dread as he went down for breakfast.

The owls swooped in as usual, and one stopped in front of him. It was a truly majestic owl, but also a frightening looking one.

Severus Snape paled somewhere at the Professor's table, and he quickly moved to Dumbledore to warn him.

Harry, however, still having not waken up completely, took the letter and opened it.

Dear Harry,

Basilisks are green

Malfoy's eyes are blue.

I won't use a letter

To tell you -

PS: the letter is a portkey. Oh Potter, you just had to make it personal.

Harry screamed, but it was too late. He felt the familiar tug around the navel, and he was gone.

Same time, somewhere in the Dark Lair

Voldemort was sitting on a chair in what looked like a bedroom when Harry Potter landed on the floor.

"Welcome, Harry Potter"

"Eh…Voldemort? How are you..uh...doing in this fine morning?" Harry said, looking around for a way out.

"Hm...I see you have bit of a hangover. Did you, perhaps, have too much Butterbeer? Or maybe Firewhisky? Or maybe you just lost your mind?"

"Yes! I mean no. I mean, what's your problem?"

"Apparently, I don't hate you enough. Or I don't hate you properly or something like that" he drawled, gesticulating wildly.

"Oh, you hate me plenty, don't worry!" Harry said, reassuringly, while racking his brains to figure out why Voldemort was acting so strangely.

"But I should prove it to you, so you won't be jealous of Dumbledore anymore" the Dark Lord said, with a strange glint in his eyes.


"Right. Well, you stole two minutes of my life, so I shall steal some of yours"

The Dark Lord took Harry by the collar and held him against the wall.

"Tell me, darling, how does it feel, being at my mercy? Just the two of us here? Do you feel good, having my full attention on you?"

"Wait, what?! What are you talking about?"

"The letter!" the dark lord yelled. "The letter you sent me, brat!"

"I never sent-!" Harry yelled. "Wait. Can I read it?"

Voldemort went to the desk and retrieved the letter. He handed Potter the letter wordlessly and sat on the bed, watching the boy.

As he read, Harry's eyes changed from curiosity to disbelief shame and eventually fear. His hands trembled when he approached Voldemort and placed the letter on the bed, next to him. His eyes were wide, breath came in pants, and he swayed on his feet.

"I did write the letter"

Voldemort looked at Harry.

"I remember now. This – what I did to you, what I might have done to someone else - is something horrible. I would apologize, but how can I? It wouldn't mean a thing"

Voldemort looked down.

"Are you going to torture me now? Kill me?"

"Potter. How much of that letter is true?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest"

"Do you know what the prophecy says?"

Harry shook his head. As guilty as he felt, he would not hand Voldemort the prophecy so easily.

"Potter, you were not my enemy until the prophecy pointed you. You are not someone that I could hate. You are someone I would desire"

Harry raised his head.

"I won't join you"

"I don't want you to"

"What do you want then?"

"Keep writing me letters, Potter"

"Um, okay. What should I say?"

"Whatever you want, Harry. Everything you could tell Tom. I know you more than your friends ever will, and I won't judge you"


Voldemort handed him the other letter.

"Here's the portkey. It will take you back to Hogwarts"

"Wait. What was it that you couldn't tell me in a letter? Hey!"

Harry was whisked away before Voldemort could answer him. The activation word was "Letter" – but Harry had triggered it before Voldemort could tell him.

"I was going to tell you that you may steal as many minutes of my life as you wish, foolish boy" Voldemort shook his head.

Voldemort took the creamy parchment to his mouth and kissed it. He was going to treasure it forever – the most honest love letter he had ever received.

The End.

Author Note: This is a oneshot and there will be no sequels. A bit stranger than my usual style, and not as well-written as I would have liked, and I couldn't give this a "slashy" ending - because at first I was going to write a cheerful letter, a proper love letter, and instead I wrote this strange letter. But Merlin, once I wrote, I couldn't bring myself to delete it - and I just had to change my "plot" into this.

I will probably return to my old style in the next drabble, so look forward to it. Bye!