Suddenly, Voldemort leaned down and kissed his neck. His lips slid down his skin to his collarbones. He must have been an experienced lover: how many people had Tom Riddle dragged into his bed to get what he wanted? Harry touched his hair again: it was like a small gift, a slight bit of bliss and an attempt to reassure him. Voldemort had once called himself a monster — did he still feel like one now? Was that why he let Harry think of him as Tom Riddle?