Work Text:
A VERY SECRET LETTER
March 1999.
While arranging a bookshelf in their bedroom, Voldemort noticed a piece of yellowed parchment sticking out from one of Harry's old textbooks and, driven by unbidden curiosity, decided to pull it out to see what it was.
Surprisingly, it turned out to be a letter addressed to him, which didn't make sense, because he and Harry spent nearly all of their time together, so there was no need for his boyfriend to write him letters, especially not ones that extensive.
But, then it struck him that it might be from the time they were still enemies considering it was tucked into his fifth-year Transfiguration textbook, and he began to read:
Dear Voldemort,
I know you wouldn't like for me to address you this way, or anyway really, but it doesn't matter because I 'll never send this letter and so you 'll never read it, so I can call you however I like.
It 's stupid to write letters you know no one 's ever going to read, but I had to get it all out and this is the only way I could 've thought of. There 's so much I want to tell you that I 've no idea where to begin, but right now I just want you to know that I miss you like hell and I 'd give anything just to hear your voice and kiss your soft lips.
Luckily for me, you hadn't noticed it, because I 'd surely be long dead if you did, but I wanted to kiss you so badly after you were resurrected at that graveyard, and I almost did when you 'd gotten so close to me that I could feel your breath on my face while you were touching my scar.
I thought I 'd be repulsed by your touch because of how disgusted I was by touching Quirrel in my first year, but it was all the opposite, and I haven't stopped thinking about you ever since that day; your touch, your voice, your lips... I like all of you, and I miss you more than any words can express eventhough I know it 's absurd, but I can't help myself.
I want you, I want to kiss you, touch you and breathe in your scent, I want to lose myself in everything that 's you, because I 've never felt something like this for anyone else ( except for Tom, but he 's a younger version of you, so it doesn't count ), and I know I never will.
Why, you might ask? Because you 're the most special person I 've ever met. I shouldn't tell you that since you 're already so full of yourself, but you are. Special, I mean. Others don't see it ( even your Death Eaters eyed you with disgust when they first saw you ), but to me you 're beautiful in your own way and I wouldn't change anything about you.
I mean it. I used to fantasise about Tom while I... you know, but ever since that day at the graveyard I 've only imagined you as you are now, and I can't get enough of it. Of you. I suppose that with how averse to any type of closeness you are, you 've never been with anyone, what makes me want you even more, because I 'd like to be your first ( as you 'd be mine ), and know that you 're only mine.
Which, of course, you aren't, and you 'll never be. But I still love you. Yes, that 's right. It 's not just about want and that stuff. I love you in every way possible, till the Moon and back, and I always will, only you 'll never know it, but that 's okay. I just want you to be well, even if I don't agree with what you 're doing.
Love, Harry.
The Dark wizard's eyes were wide with amazement as he reread some of the words, but the soft click of the en-suite bathroom door opening made his look up from the letter.
"Hey, Tom-" Harry, standing in the doorframe with only a towel wrapped around his waist, began to say, but cut himself off when he noticed the familiar piece of parchment in his beloved's hand.
"Oh, no...", he gasped hurrying to snatch it back, but Voldemort had already thrown it away.
The two lovers met halfway and Voldemort, having already discarded his black robe, pulled his hot, freshly-showered boyfriend into a fiery kiss to show him his feelings were much appreciated and reciprocated with equal intensity.