Harry walked home briskly. There was a spring in his step, and he tried to keep himself from smiling needlessly and looking silly to the Hogsmeade folks as he passed. Who could blame him for being happy? This was a day to celebrate, for it was his birthday.

It was still early. He had expected to stay later in Hermione and Ron's home, but they had just decided to meet this evening for dinner. In any case, Voldemort would be pleased to see him soon. His lover was not a morning person, and he would probably still be asleep right now.

As Harry neared their home, he heard strange sounds coming from the upper levels of their house. Worried, he hurried inside and ran up the stairs, not knowing what to expect. The door slammed open as Harry burst into their bedroom.

"What are you doing!?"

Voldemort looked up guiltily. His arms and hands were bleeding and the blood ran profusely into the sheets. The red contrasted with his pale skin, and he was obviously in pain. His moans were the sounds that Harry heard from below. And judging from his expression, the injuries were self-inflicted.

�What are you doing?� Harry repeated, aghast.

�It�s your birthday,� Voldemort answered morosely. He blinked and stared at his hands. �This is my punishment to myself.�

�What are you talking ab�� Harry didn�t get to finish his question. He rushed to Voldemort�s side and took the bleeding hands into his. �Don�t do this to yourself,� he pleaded. �Don�t cut yourself because of guilt on my part.�

�I�ve never forgiven myself,� Voldemort continued sadly.

�For what?� Harry shook his head. �I don�t understand. I thought we agreed that the past was all behind us. Why are you doing this? Hurting yourself is something that hurts me even more!�

�But Harry!� Voldemort wailed. �I knocked on the wrong house! And now your parents are dead. It�s just because I bloody knocked on the wrong house!� He flung himself onto the bed and sobbed.

At this outburst, Harry suddenly drew back and stared at him skeptically. �I know you. You aren�t the sort to go punishing yourself just because you knocked on the wrong house.�

�What do you mean?� Voldemort�s red eyes blinked innocently. They were suspiciously dry as he looked up at Harry. �How could you doubt me when I�m in pain?�

�Because you aren�t in pain.� Harry took his hands again and tried to wipe the blood off. There was no sign of any cuts or injuries on Voldemort�s skin. The green eyes narrowed. �Explain yourself.�

Voldemort sighed. He licked his red-stained finger. �I was trying to make Jell-O and it freaked out on me. Here, taste it.�

Harry blinked. �You failed to make Jell-O?�

�Yes,� Voldemort nodded sadly. �And I wanted to surprise you. I even woke up early today.�

�And you were crying because you failed to make�� He couldn�t even continue. �Why did you pretend that you were feeling guilty about my parents?�

�Well, you assumed first! I kind of slipped into the role.� He smiled sheepishly. �But I was able to buy ice cream! Gallons of your favorite!� Voldemort clapped happily and stood. �I even used that odious thing you call a phone and managed not to kill the stupid Muggle who took my order. Aren�t you proud of me?�

Harry grinned. Life with Voldemort would never be ordinary. �Of course. Now, my dear,� he leaned forward, licking his lips, �aren�t you hungry for ice cream?�

FIN