Shadows of the past

-- Tommy, Tommy, Tommy! What are you so broody about? Did you have another beef with the Order of the Chicken? Hey, you want me to bring you someone's head? Who do you want? One of the Weasleys? Or maybe the Potters? Oh, I heard from Peter that Jamie's boy is a cutie! -- No. Don't. I'm about to go on another combat mission, and I'd appreciate your help. I've heard rumors that Dumbledore, or even Black, might be in the squad. -- Whoa! Black?! How'd they talk the kid into that? Sirius, right? He reminds me so much of me! We'd hit it off, and I seriously doubt he'd agree to help this coop. -- That's the thing, he's as fucked up as you are, so his possible appearance worries me a lot. -- Ha-ha! I'm dying to see the little thing, since the Dark Lord himself is wary of him. -- I'm not wary. I don't want to go to any more trouble. -- Yes, yes, I believe you. I do! -- Ray... -- All right, all right! Shut up, sunshine! I'll be there tomorrow night! Don't miss me there! Bye! -- Take care of yourself. -- Tom muttered under his breath, still a little grudgingly. The man on the other side of the through-mirror laughed lasciviously and passed out. The man set the artifact aside and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. His husband had never been normal in the usual sense of the word. He often acted like a complete jerk, but when he got serious.... Cold calculation, the kind that gave him the creeps. When Riddle saw his husband like that, his heart sank with admiration, so beautiful and splendid was his husband.

***

Everyone was sitting in the dining room when from behind a closed door came a great rumbling sound, someone screamed, squealed and a few minutes later the doors swung open, letting in a laughing man, with bright red hair. He was laughing so hard that tears came to his eyes, and he clutched his stomach, bent over, and fell to his knees. In a few minutes, however, the laughter stopped, and the man jumped to his feet and ran over to Voldemort, who was sitting at the head of the table, got down on one knee, and whispered in confidence: -- My Lord! I did not, in truth, even dare, to think of such a step, that I, a lowly man, would dare to say such a thing to you, my lord -- I could not dare to take such a desperate step, but still I could not bear the storm that was raging in my soul, and here I am, your humble servant, on my knee, confessing that I am madly in love with your lordship. I have, I dare say, carried this feeling in my heart for many days and nights now, and I must confess that it cannot go on like this.... My Lord, marry me! -- He threw back his head solemnly, closed his eyes, and fell silent, as if in fear, waiting for an answer. Riddle sighed. He looked around at his subordinates, who pretended not to see any of this, and said humbly: -- Ray, I've been your consort for almost thirty-one years now. Calm down, sit down, eat properly and listen to the plans. -- The redhead threw up his hands in feigned horror: -- Oh, woe is me! Woe! How could I... Wait. Is that meat? You put a pile of meat on the table!? Oh, great Merlin! Tommy, Tommy, Tommy! You are my faith for all time, for I see no one more worthy! -- And Ray, forgetting the plan of his impromptu performance, plopped down in the chair nearest her husband, and slid the plate of boiled chicken toward him. Everyone knew of Ray's strange fondness for meat. Any kind of meat, but chicken was his favorite, and it was good if it was cooked without a single spice. Tom didn't tell anyone, but the man could actually eat a raw piece of it. Or rather, he couldn't eat it, but he did. Voldemort recalled with a shudder the moment when he saw his then best friend gnawing fiercely into the carcass of a rat he had just strangled. Afterward, the man had to make the redhead promise that he would never eat raw flesh again. Terrible. While Ray gnawed passionately at the food, Riddle threw a couple of nonverbal diagnostic spells at him and frowned. -- What's wrong with your arm? -- He asked in a cold tone. Tom hated it when his husband kept his injuries from him. -- Oh, that? It's just a curse. On scattered attention. I don't think that's going to be a problem. -- Riddle frowned even harder. Eaters dreamed of disappearing from this room anywhere. When those two started family squabbles, it wasn't worth it to be within a kilometer of them at all. -- How long will it last? -- Rei froze, and squinted his eyes as if remembering. In fact, he knew for sure it was another five days, but, really, to miss a battle for his husband over some bullshit? As if that wasn't enough. The redhead lied skillfully enough to fool even his magical consort: -- Two days. Give or take an hour. I'll have time to recover before the battle. -- Tom squinted suspiciously, but he couldn't detect any sign of lying on Ray's face.

***

There was smog everywhere. From dust, smoke, and who the hell knows what else. Bright beams of spells shone through the haze and flashed colored lights at a speed that made many people's eyes twinkle. Newcomers would probably go down with a migraine after that. But Rei had long since stopped paying attention to such trivialities. He enjoyed the sounds of battle: the spells flying out, which either collided with the target or scattered in the air in a multitude of small lights, having traveled the maximum distance for themselves, the screams of mages fighting with persistence and desperation, the explosions from the bombs. Hell. He loved battles. It was what he'd lived for, for the first time. Even now, when there was already a War going on back home and room to turn around, he continued to travel the world, engaging in all sorts of conflicts, insanely enjoying the adrenaline of endless battles. Often it seemed as if he had not scarlet blood flowing through his veins, but some kind of potion that caused a constant need for battles. However, his spouse did not like this hobby very much. Tom was constantly, seemingly every minute, contacting him and inquiring about his health, and as soon as he heard about even the most innocuous wound, he was methodically telling him to take care of himself. And the best way to do that was to go home. To Riddle's side, and sit there with his ass up. The man was pissed off. What is he, a snotty little mumbler? He's been fighting everyone he can think of for thirty-six years, and he's still alive. In the meantime, the noise of the battle had almost died down, and only occasionally could they hear someone exchanging spells, but soon it was over. After waiting for the smog to clear, the Eaters gathered in one place and surveyed the battlefield. The bodies of slain Aurors lay around for several meters ahead. Rey whistled: -- Well done! That was a good effort! Wow, what a battle! -- He was still burning with energy, and he was clearly eager to finish off a couple more mages. The others, unfortunately, didn't share his enthusiasm. They were tired as hell, and they'd taken some casualties. I wanted to get back to the base and rest. -- How many casualties? -- Continuing to look at the defeated enemies, Rey asked cheerfully, turning to Dolokhov. -- Seven men, sir! Two with magical exhaustion. Nine more wounded. Five of them have physical injuries, and the rest have been cursed. We should show them to Bellatrix. -- The man nodded, indicating he'd heard the information. He stood pensive for a moment, then clapped his hands together happily: -- Well, gentlemen, let's go back! -- And raised his hand with a small stone in it, urging everyone to activate their port keys. Only it was too late when he saw the dying Auror holding on with his last breath. At his last gasp, he cast a spell that was impossible to dodge as he moved. -- Avada Kedavra! -- It was the last thing Rei heard before the darkness covered him.

***

It wasn't supposed to happen. It shouldn't. No way. Certainly not this early and certainly not to him. He wasn't going to lose someone so close to him. It was wrong, unscripted, horrible, bad, disgusting. All wrong. He didn't believe. No. No! It's just a dream. Yes? Another stupid joke. It always is, isn't it? One of his other idiotic, completely unfunny jokes. Is it? Really!? Tom was screaming. Tearing up his voice, hysterically, grabbing his hands in his hair, thrashing from side to side and crying. I didn't follow. An hour ago, sitting on his knees, holding his husband's dead, still warm body in his arms, he had been silent. Couldn't believe it. Frozen with shock, and his senses seemed to freeze with him. I wish they had never come back. Anything was better than going slowly mad in agony, with the heartbreaking pain and the emptiness eating away at his heart. It was like a piece of my soul had been torn away. Unbearable. Painful. Empty.

Lonely.