Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/1613336. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Category: M/M Fandom: Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling Relationship: Harry_Potter/Voldemort Character: Harry_Potter, Voldemort, Severus_Snape Additional Tags: Harrymort_-_Freeform, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Male_Slash, Awkward_First Times Series: Part 3 of Serpent_&_Snitch_Series Stats: Published: 2014-05-14 Words: 4464 ****** Sleeping With The Enemy ****** by HecatesKiss Summary The first meeting between the Dark Lord and the Boy Who Lived since the Ministry for Magic at the end of fifth year. Notes I do not own Harry Potter. Not J.K. Rowling. Not Beta'd. Not making money. NC -17 Underage ~ 16 parseltongue Not Safe For Work Material Explicit Sexual Content   ~ * ~ Due to infringement Issues with another site, this fic may eventually become locked to members only. Just a warning. No part of this story may be reproduced, copied, modified or adapted, without the prior written consent of the author.~ dated 27-08-2014 ~ * ~ See the end of the work for more notes Severus frowned as he watched the black eagle owl touch down in front of Potter’s place on the Gryffindor table. It was Friday. For the past two weeks, packages had arrived on either a Monday or a Tuesday. This was a change in Nic’s pattern. The package was wrapped in gold paper and wrapped in a red ribbon. He suppressed his snort at the obvious play toward Hogwart’s House colours. The boy tore into the paper with a huge grin and Severus toyed with his tea cup, sipping even as he observed. He had noticed that the Headmaster was once more frowning as their Savior was offered yet another token of admiration. Potter’s delighted laugh drifted across the Great Hall as the boy pulled something from the box. He tilted his head slightly.Why would Potter be excited over, he sneered, it was a book. He drowned his snort in tea as Weasley leaned over and started jabbering excitedly. It almost reminded him of something he had seen in…. Tea sloshed into the saucer as searing pain bolted up his left arm. Lips pressed firmly together, ignoring the ache of a summons, he pushed to his feet and glided past the Headmaster’s chair, reaching out to brush the man’s sleeve with his left hand. He saw the nod out of the corner of his eye and knew the Headmaster understood. Slipping his left hand into his pocket, he pulled out a white handkerchief and strode from the Great Hall through the Teacher’s Entrance, heading for the Forbidden Forest. He just hoped he’d still be in well enough shape to teach today. He grimaced at the thought and began building his barriers as the Dark Mark seared again.   * * * Severus knelt, masked and with head bowed before the Dark Lord. His heart rate was steady. His breathing was even. He wasn’t even sweating, he had done this so many times before. He waited for the command to rise, or the curse to fall. Though, he was curious. He was rarely called while school was in session, his position as the Dark Lord’s spy far too valuable to risk casually. “Ah, my Serpent. How is the old fool?” “Well enough, my Lord. I’ve slowed the decay from the curse on his hand. It will; however, kill him, my Lord.” “Good. And the boy?” “His pen pal has been sending him gifts. Little trinkets and such. The other week it was quills. This last week it was chocolate. Today it was a book.” “Ah. Your assessment of this pen pal?” The Dark Lord glided around him in a circle. Severus suppressed his automatic flinch as cold fingers trailed over his shoulder. “The brat seems far more content now that somebody is writing him. Dumbledore has already started trying to trace this person. He has found nothing. Whatever system he and the brat are using… is not traceable by the Light. Your will my Lord?” Severus heard the Dark Lord pause. He choked on natural panic and ruthlessly shoved it down. Sweat started to trace down his spine. Cold fingers bit into his shoulder. “You will leave that alone. Which book?” Severus blinked, “My Lord?” “Which book was the boy sent?” The Dark Lord glided around so that he stood before his kneeling servant. Severus kept his hands loose and resting on his thighs, gaze fixed on the trailing hem of the black robe, ignoring the bare white feet as they peeked out with each step. “It looked to be a Deluxe Quidditch Throughout the Ages, my Lord.” “His reaction?” “He looked like Christmas come early, my Lord. Ripped the packaging apart like a starving animal. Didn’t even touch his breakfast until after he’d seen the book. Brat lit up like it was the finest gift ever given.” Severus’ eyes narrowed behind his mask as the Dark Lord’s mouth split into a wide serpentine smile. That never boded well for anyone. “You may approach, Severus.” The Potion Master jolted slightly under the realization he’d been given permission. He crawled forward, loathing the fact the man had branded him like cattle and could command this level of obedience in him. Lifting his hand, he slid the mask off and then gathered the hem of the robe and pressed his lips to the fabric. He bowed his head and remained still as pale fingers glided into his hair, tightened down and jerked his head up and back. Fear slithered in his gut for a moment as black eyes met crimson. He yielded to the probe, the Dark Lord’s mind brushing through his own, an icy finger of pain that merely had to be endured. Severus hung caught in a red eyed serpent’s paralyzing grip as its icy venom seeped through his mind. Behind his shields, he wondered if today would be the day the man found out he was a spy for the Light, if today would be his last, and he would die under the torture of the Dark Lord’s wand. His face remained impassive, even as his shielded thoughts rabbited. The hand slid out of his hair as the Dark Lord’s terrifying mental presence retreated. Severus allowed himself to blink, and remained with his head tipped back, even as he shifted his gaze to look over the Dark Lord’s left shoulder. The man had been a little testy lately about a person meeting his gaze uninvited. And Severus was really hoping he could get through a private audience without a round of crucio being flung. “Ahssa.” Severus’ attention snapped to the Dark Lord. He knew his name in parseltongue… every Death Eater knew his or her own name on the Dark Lord’s lips. It meant less pain if you learned quickly. And Severus had. “I have a task for you.” “My Lord?” “I know the old fool requires you to use your skills to brew items of  a preventative nature. I require a sample of that product.” “Of course, my Lord. Whatever you require, I will provide.” “With this particular product, I will need… certain agents added to… it.” Severus lowered his head and his gaze as the serpentine figure began gliding around him in a circle again. He kept his shoulders and hands relaxed, wondering exactly what the Dark Lord wanted now. He had brewed poison, potions that caused excruciating agony, healing draughts and tinctures. He served because the Mark on his arm demanded that he do so. “What are the requirements, my Lord?” “Mild numbing for the recipient.” “Forgive me, my Lord, but,” Severus wetted his lips and swallowed, he hated not knowing exactly what the man required of him, “what will I be creating for you?” “A personal lubricant, Ahssa. My will is your life.” “Always, my Lord.” Severus responded, stomach clenching even as his brain stumbled. The Dark Lord…. the…. he blinked and swallowed. He really didn’t want to even start to contemplate... he blinked again. “How soon will you… require it?” The way the ruby eyes lit and the smile that curved the nearly lipless mouth made Severus shove back a shudder of unadulterated fear. He nearly pitied whatever was planned, even though he knew the Dark Lord forbade his forces the use of rape in any case. He’d watched several followers executed for breaking that rule. “As soon as you are capable. By this weekend.” “Yes, my Lord.” Severus prostrated himself and waited for the Dark Lord to grant him permission to leave. “One other thing, Severus.” “My Lord?” “Deliver this, by hand, to the boy. Dumbledore will not see it, nor will he be told of it.” “Yes my Lord.” Severus said, feeling the command flare in the Dark Mark, binding him to the original oaths he’d sworn. He lifted his non-wand hand and accepted the note bound with a silver and green ribbon. “Tell the boy not to lose the ribbon. He will understand when he reads the note. It is written for his eyes only, Severus. Nothing the old fool could do would… alter the message.” “Yes, my Lord.” The ribbon wrapped missive went into Severus’ pocket as he slid on the mask again. “You are dismissed, Ahssa.” Severus bowed and pushed to his feet. He bowed again and then withdrew.   * * * “The request, dear boy?” “I cannot say, Albus.” “Come, surely you must be able to slither your way around it. Voldemort has given you a task. Will this task harm the school?” “Albus, I cannot say. Old oaths bind me. To go against this is to inflict severe pain on myself. I was ordered.” “Severus… please give me something to work with.” “I cannot.” Severus snarled, rage rising behind his breastbone. How he hated that patronizing smile. The man simply did not comprehend. The Mark ensured his silence if the Dark Lord so wished it. That, and he really did not want to think about why the man wanted… he shivered. He still had to get the missive to the brat. “Severus? By your oath to the Order. Tell me what you can.” Severus closed his eyes and swallowed. Pain seared along his left arm, agony flared as he opened his mouth, stealing his breath. Severus gagged and doubled over in the chair, frantically shaking his head. He drew up his knees and attempted to breathe through the pain. “Severus?” “I. Cannot. You idiot old man!” Severus roared, parchment pale and sick to his stomach. He gagged again and shook his head when the old man rose and reached for a stomach soother. “It… is… pain… induced, Albus. Won’t… help. Stop asking.” Severus closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair. He took the handkerchief when it was passed to him and mopped his face. “Very well. Lemon drop?” Severus glared and shook his head. He pushed himself to his feet. Coming down the stairs from the Headmaster’s office, Severus stepped into the boy’s path when he was away from his little friends. He watched Potter startle. Severus slid the missive into his hands and tipped his head towards an empty classroom. The boy went, for which Severus was grateful. “Yes, sir?” “The Dark Lord has been asking after you. Do be careful, Potter. And do not lose the ribbon.” Severus swept from the room, leaving a blinking, confused Boy Who Lived behind him.   * * * Harry blinked down at the green and silver wrapped letter. He slipped open the flap and drew out the parchment. The lettering wavered for a moment and he blinked.   My Little One, With peace the hoped for outcome, I, the Dark Lord Voldemort, do offer you safe passage to and from a meeting between yourself  and I. You will be returned to Hogwarts School by Monday morning. I give you my solemn word. No permanent harm shall come to you if you decide to meet with me on the Sunday next. Send your reply with the one that gave you this message before then. He will return your reply to me. Have no fear, he is bound to silence. ~ D. Volsung   Harry choked and read it again, winding the silver and green ribbon idly around his wrist. He blinked and wondered if Severus Snape knew the exact relationship between the Dark Lord and the Boy Who Lived. Harry was pretty sure he didn’t. Harry slipped from the classroom, shoving the parchment and the envelope into his robe pocket. He met the dark eyes of his Defense Professor and inclined his head once. The man grimaced and billowed away.   * * * Harry tapped a crimson and gold quill against his lip as he debated how to form his reply. He recognized the opening sentences of the initial message as formal wording to parley. He’d seen it in enough of the goblin treaties they’d been forced to study in History of Magic. He knew what he had to write back to accept it.   To my Nic, I gladly accept your offer of protection and come to you with no reservations. Peace between us shall be upheld. I trust your word that I will be unharmed when I meet and when I leave. Dark you may be, however, honourable you are. ~ Harry   Harry folded the missive and then melted the crimson wax he always used for Nic’s letters. He sealed it and pressed the simple lightning bolt seal that the Dark Lord had included with the Journal. Harry shivered. He knew part of the reason the Dark Lord wanted to meet. Harry stroked his fingers over the ribbon, and then made a quick decision, he looped it twice around his wrist and tied it off. That way he wouldn’t lose it. He petted a finger over the satin and smiled. He then put away his writing stuff and pushed to his feet. He had to find Snape.   * * *   “Yes, Mr. Potter?” The man asked, frown firmly fixed on his face even as Harry closed the door. “You know who wrote me.” “I do.” “You are bound to silence aren’t you?” The man merely nodded and arched an eyebrow. Harry rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, green and silver ribbon peeking out from under his jumper. “Look, this is parley. I can tell you that much.” “The Dark Lord…” “Has never told me anything that wasn’t true. Even twisted and warped, the man has never lied to me. Sirius did show up. It was to draw me to the Ministry. We both know it would have happened sooner or later. The fight was destined, if not there, somewhere else.” Snape bowed his head and settled himself on the edge of the desk. “And yet, you are going to parley with the man?” “Peace is good for the world. If we… can come to an arrangement. I will take it.” “Potter, the man murdered your parents.” “It was war. Of course he went for what stood in his way. I’ve gone around you, I’ve gone around Dumbledore, I’ve gone around McGonagall… I’ve done what had to be done. I get that. I can understand that about him.” Harry shrugged. Severus closed his eyes and held out his hand. Harry placed the missive into his palm. “Since I am bound, as you said. I hope you know what you are doing, Potter.” “So do I, Professor. For all our sakes.” “Oh and Potter? Detention tonight, seven thirty.” Harry sighed, “Yes, Professor.”   * * * Harry merely nodded when Snape brushed against his arm later that evening. Harry slipped his hand into his robe pocket and felt another note. He left it where it lay and returned to his detention. He was scribbling lines while Severus was brewing something. Or rather the man had been brewing something. “Professor?” “Yes, Potter?” “You seem… unsettled.” “Do I?” “Yeah. Like you are being yanked around.” “I am tired, Potter. Tired of serving two Masters that are polar opposites. You saw that when you rampaged through my mind during your fifth year..” “Er. Sorry about that?” “I will take your apology in the spirit in which it was meant. Accepted, Mr. Potter.” “Thanks. What do you want?” “To be able to brew without interference. To be free to make my own choices. To… wish for the impossible.” Severus muttered, pushing away from the cauldron he had just spelled empty. “What if I could try to give you that?” “Then you would do what neither Dumbledore, nor the Dark Lord has ever done. Detention over. Go.” Harry scrambled up from the desk, making certain to clean the quill and cap the ink. He placed the parchment scroll on his professor’s desk and slipped from the room without a backward glance.   * * * The piece of parchment had held only the time and confirmation of terms. Harry kept rubbing at the bit of ribbon he had tied around his wrist. He took a deep breath, licked his lips and stepped just outside the anti-apparition and antiport-key wards he knew surrounded Hogwarts. The port-key jerked behind his navel. Harry stumbled on his feet, school robes fluttering around his ankles. He blinked and looked around quickly. Bedroom. The port-key had taken him to a … He swallowed. His stomach did a funny little lurch. Oh. “Hello, Little One.” The voice was soft, nearly warm and Harry turned slowly toward the sound. Emerald met crimson. Harry tipped his head with a slight smile. “Hello Voldemort. Bedroom?” “I… figured neutral space?” Harry blushed and looked away. The wood was heavy mahogany. The floor dark wood and scattered with deep plush rugs. The furniture otherwise was black. Harry blinked. The Dark Lord shifted from foot to foot and fiddled with something on the small end table next to the black upholstered chair. “Would you like to sit?” Voldemort waved to the chair that sat across from his own. Harry sank into the chair and twisted his fingers, nerves crawling around in his stomach. “Um.” “The last thing you wrote me in your journal was that you had found Dark Pleasures… fascinating.” Harry flushed. It had been hot. The drawings were… rather…. explicit. He squirmed in the chair. The Dark Lord smiled and flicked his hand. “My favorite pages are three hundred seventy nine and five hundred and eighty eight.”  Harry caught the book as it floated into his hands and opened to the mentioned pages. He flushed brilliant red. Wow. One… oh. Wait, that was possible? Harry licked his lips and squirmed, trying to adjust himself without actually touching himself. He watched the Dark Lord squirm in a similar manner and blinked. A sudden insane thought flickered through his head. The Dark Lord nodded. “We could have…” “Yes, with our mental connection, we could have met mentally and discussed things. However, I was not thinking of discussion. If you are…. amiable. We could…” “You… oh. You… wow. Um.” Harry licked his lips again. Voldemort looked down and away, the long fingers of one hand again fiddling with the crystal phial that sat next to him. Harry’s eyes narrowed. He recognized that… Harry flushed. He knew what that was. He’d watched Snape make it for Christ’s sake. “Ah. Yes. I desire to know...” “Um. Hmm.Okay?” Harry managed to squeak out, hands twisting into his robes. The Dark Lord rose from his chair and motioned toward the bed. Harry shivered and clung to the chair. “How does…” “I have heard kissing?” The older man suggested. Harry nodded and let himself be drawn from the chair by his hand. He shivered. The Dark Lord was cold. “Chilly?” “A little.” Harry said as the Dark Lord let him settle onto the black draped bed and sank beside him, vial glittering in the torch light. It clicked on the bedside table as the Dark Lord leaned back. “Can I...” Harry bit his lip and looked away. “What? Little One?” “Can I… touch you?” “Certainly. Would it be…” The Dark Lord shifted on the bed as Harry cautiously slid next to him and reached slowly, fingers gently brushing along one high cheekbone. The Dark Lord gasped, serpentine tongue flicking out. Harry’s eyes widened. “Do that again?” “What?” “Your tongue?” “Ah.” The Dark Lord stuck his tongue out. Harry leaned forward, to get a closer look as his fingers ghosted down and then gently trailed across the forked appendage. The Dark Lord shivered. Harry leaned a little closer. “Can…” Hands came up and pulled Harry into an embrace. He slid forward with a squeak. The first kiss was awkward, the second more comfortable. The third was really good. The fourth went on so long that when Harry finally got a breath of air, he was dazed and on fire. He wanted his denims off… and now. He was privately gratified to see that the Dark Lord was in a similar state, robes doing nothing to hide that fact. Harry blushed when a cold hand stroked across warm, flushed cheeks. He let his eyes flutter closed and then jumped when those hands trailed across his neck. “So warm… so so warm. And mine.” The man purred. Harry blinked into crimson eyes and then yelped when fingers trailed across his jumper and robe covered chest. He nodded at the questioning look. The robe was peeled off with Harry’s eager help. The jumper followed. Harry arched away from the cold touch and winced when a nail scraped over a nipple. “Did I…” “Felt weird. Good. Weird.” Harry responded with a shake of his head. He yelped when those cold hands traced curiously down his ribs. He squirmed and blinked when the man chuckled. He yelped again when the Dark Lord rolled them both gently over, so that he was kneeling next to a suddenly prone boy. Harry’s eyes widened. Fingers traced over the button on his denims. Harry swallowed. His heart was racing. The button slid open. The zip was next. He lifted his hips to help. Voldemort studied intently as he revealed soft flesh. Harry swallowed and felt the flush extend down his chest. He blinked, gathered his courage and lifted his hands to trace along the black robes, licking his lips. The Dark Lord nodded. Harry slipped two buttons loose with shaking hands. The man hissed and bent his head to capture Harry’s mouth in another long kiss. Harry tore his mouth away and yelped again at the suddenly cold fingers wrapped there. The Dark Lord withdrew his hand and blinked. “Cold.” “Ah. Hmm. What….” Harry blinked when a spell was cast and suddenly warm fingers returned to their previous position. Harry arched into the touch and flushed, even as he propped himself up on one elbow to look down. The Dark Lord smiled and let his hand wander lower. Harry groaned and squirmed back, away from the touch. He frowned when the Dark Lord froze. “Too…” “Lube?” Harry sputtered. The Dark Lord nodded and fumbled for the crystal phial. Harry jolted when a cleaning charm was muttered. He frowned, then recalled why the cleaning charm would be needed. He flushed. The Dark Lord let some trickle onto his fingers and then dropped the bottle on the bed. Harry grabbed and righted it, then flushed and set it carefully back on the table. “The house elves can fix it later… now relax.” “Relax? Um… how?” “Hmm.” The Dark Lord seemed to study his slick fingers for a moment before he leaned forward and took Harry’s lips again. Harry moaned when a finger traced across his opening and he jolted. He had not expected. Brief discomfort as something slid into him, he squirmed. The Dark Lord lifted his head. “Lie still. This might hurt.” “Remember from… ooh… reading. Is that your…” “Yes it’s my finger. You will know if and when it is something else.” The Dark Lord responded. Harry flushed. He winced when something else jabbed into him and twisted. “Weird. Ah. Really weird. Really.” “Stop?” “No. Just. Weird.” Harry responded, fingers balled into the Dark Lord’s black robe as he adjusted to the feeling. He arched when the man brushed fingers over something inside of him. “I think I just… hmm.” Harry arched when he did it again. “Oh.” The little noise was disappointment as those fingers withdrew. Harry shifted. “Lube… where… ah.” The Dark Lord hissed. Harry watched the man fumble with the phial again and then glanced down as he followed the hand. His eyes widened as he got his first look at another man’s cock. “Wait… that’s… oh shite.” Harry babbled. Voldemort paused and shook his head, hairless brow arching in inquiry. “That’s supposed to fit… where?!” Brow furrowed in seeming concentration, Voldemort slid his fingers back into Harry. Harry swore and winced slightly when a third finger was added and all three slid back and forth, coaxing a toe curling feeling. “Better?” “Mmmhm. Ooh. What?” Harry drew his legs up when the older man slicked himself. He wiggled slightly when he was pulled up onto the Dark Lord’s spread thighs. He yelped when the blunt tip pressed against his entrance, slick with the lubricant. “Wow. Ooh. That… ah. Shite. Ow.” Harry squeaked. The Dark Lord froze. “Ow?” “Pinch. The ah… shite. Books warned. Ow. Okay.” Harry pressed down against the Dark Lord as the man slid into him to the hilt and then froze. He shivered and squirmed slightly. The displeased hiss made Harry blink. “So tight. So. Good.” Harry moaned when the Dark Lord slowly withdrew and then sank back in, pale hands gripping Harry’s hips, black robes pooling against the dark sheets on the bed. Harry shivered as he caught sight of a flash of raised skin on the man’s abdomen. He knew he’d had his share of scars prior to Madame Pomfrey healing most of them, and ignored it. Harry let his head fall back with a groan, concentrating on the feeling of his greatest enemy buried deep inside him. He knew it was so so wrong, or would be if this were nothing but….Harry saw stars as the Dark Lord shifted slightly. “Oh, fuck. Again?” The Dark Lord shifted again and Harry vaguely noticed red eyes narrowed in concentration. He twitched and wiggled. Hands grabbed his hips again. “Again, Little One? All right.” The Dark Lord slid out, then back in, watching as green eyes glazed with need and lust. Harry shuddered as a tongue, forked in it’s serpentine glory slid around behind his ear. “Yes. Shite. Yes. Ooh.” “You like.” “Please? Ooh. Shite.” “Of course, my Little One.” Harry groaned when the pace changed, faltered and then changed again. His fists remained buried in the robes, tugging desperately. The Dark Lord rocked his hips forward and back, driving himself deep, wringing little cries from Harry’s throat. Pleasure bit deep into Harry and his body bowed. He felt his release race over him and drag him under. His body tightened even as bliss found him. Harry heard the Dark Lord swear colourfully and then felt wet pulsing warmth spill deep inside him. Harry blinked when the Dark Lord rolled them carefully onto their sides and withdrew. Harry whimpered at the loss and glanced down, flushing further when he realized his release stained the Dark Lord’s robes. “Shh, my Little One. Robes wash.” Voldemort soothed and Harry nodded, then flushed when a quick cleaning spell took care of the mess. He snuggled into the chilly skin and squeaked when the blankets were spelled over the pair of them. He frowned when the Dark Lord grumbled and cast a warming spell on the blankets before he drew Harry into a tighter embrace. “Sleep for a little while, my Little One. You will return to the school in the morn.” Harry yawned and decided to do as bid. He snuggled into the man that should have been his enemy, but instead had become both friend and lover. End Notes *blushes* Harrymort group already knows The Dark Lord's reaction. Oh dear. Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work! , gazing up at him adoringly. “But now I really have to get out of here.” “Out? Wait. What?” Rimmer’s expression went from blissfully dazed to confused as Lister scampered off the bed and started pulling his clothes back on. “Well, I can’t very well stay in here, can I?” Lister teased. “You said...” Lister cut him off with a last firm kiss. “Not a word to Kriss,” he warned, “It would break her heart.” “But...!” “Goodnight!” He scurried out of the door and let it whoosh shut behind him.   ***** Chapter 4 *****             When he at last crawled back into bed beside Kochanski he was already berating himself. He shouldn’t have had that booze. It always did this to him, made him stupid and reckless. It had been an idiotic, pointless risk to take when he was so close to the finish line. He thought he could rely on Rimmer’s natural cowardice not to announce to everyone at breakfast tomorrow that Lister had dropped in and rocked his world rodeo-style, but there was a chance he’d pushed the smeghead too far. Would even Rimmer draw the line at being used and then brushed-off in such a manner? Well, he’d find out tomorrow. Kriss rolled over and put an arm around him, “Babe?” she mumbled, “You’re all hot and sweaty. Are you feeling ok?” “I’m fine,” he whispered, “Go back to sleep.” The next morning, Rimmer’s eyes followed him around like a hungry dog waiting to be fed. But he said nothing. Lister allowed himself to relax, and as Kryten sealed him into the deep sleep unit, he threw Rimmer a wink over the droid’s head. I knew you wouldn’t tell on me, he thought smugly. I’m far too pretty.   Much later, when the rest of the crew stumbled out of deep sleep to find the ship hurtling towards destruction and Kryten explaining that actually they’d had the wrong Lister all along, Kochanski wasn’t entirely surprised.          She’d known, somewhere deep down, that something wasn’t right. She’d tried to tell herself it was just shock, trauma, depression. It would have been reasonable after what he’d been through. But the night she’d gone to him, done the things she’d always done to bring him out of his occasional bleak moods, something had been different. The gentleness had been there, the softness in his eyes and his voice; but something else was missing. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust had been considered. Calculated. It had worked, oh smeg, yes, it had worked. But now she understood what had felt so wrong. He’d had to think about it. Dave, her Dave, never did. For him, sex happened as naturally as breathing. When she finally saw him again, standing at the bottom of Starbug’s ramp, dusty and dirty but still standing and somehow, against all the odds, still smiling, she flung herself into his arms. And it was like breathing again.   Rimmer took Kryten’s news a little differently. He didn’t know what to believe. It wasn’t him. It was never really him.And in one way that made sense, because he knew Dave Lister loved Kristine Kochanski with every ounce of his being and it had been pathetic for him to believe, even for a moment, that he could ever feel that way about him. But it still didn’t make sense because, why?   Why would Lister’s other self have done this? What did he possibly have to gain? Later on, when he looked down the ramp at Lister and Kochanski rolling on the ground together, oblivious to everyone and everything else around them for a few brief moments, he thought he understood. He just wanted you to know what it was like, he realised, to have a taste of something that could never, ever be yours. He wanted you to have hope, so that he could shatter it. When Lister finally came running to him, dragging the tall, strange man behind him and gabbling excitedly, Rimmer wasn’t listening. He wanted to throw Lister to the ground, do all the things that Kochanski had just done, and show him that he was here and that he cared too. And that he’d learned a few things while he was gone. But he couldn’t. And he’d never be able to. A few hours later the real truth hit him. Lister’s other self had toyed with him, manipulated him, even fucked him, because he needed Rimmer to love Dave Lister. He needed Rimmer to be so hopelessly, helplessly in love that even now, in this situation, even to save his own son, he would hesitate before pointing a gun at that face. And it had worked. Which was why now, as Rimmer strapped on the astro-stripper and prepared to go into battle to save both his son and the man he loved, he was so determined to kill the bastard. Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!