|Destroy Your Heart
Author: Batsutousai PM
Tom Riddle sees love as a weakness. When he finds out he has a soulmate, he goes to impossible lengths to kill the brat. Too bad you can't actually kill your own soulmate, and Tom finds himself fighting against fate to destroy his own heart. NONCON, HPLVRated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Tragedy - Harry P. & Tom R. Jr. - Words: 4,008 - Reviews: 41 - Favs: 209 - Follows: 27 - Published: 07-11-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5209068
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Destroy Your Heart
Pairings: non-con Voldemort/Harry, with mentions of Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione
Warnings: attempted murder of a small child, evil!Voldemort, non-con, mentions of het, slash, character death
Summary: Tom Riddle sees love as a weakness. When he finds out he has a soulmate, he goes to impossible lengths to kill the brat. Too bad you can't actually kill your own soulmate, and Tom finds himself fighting against fate to destroy his own heart. THIS IS NOT A HAPPY FIC.
Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Getting Tom in this, particularly the beginning was not easy. I apologise if he's too OOC.
I had intended for this to be a chaptered fic, but it turned into a one-shot simply because I couldn't draw it out. The fic decided to be short.
Purebloods were always talking about "fate" and "destiny" and how your future was always planned out for you before you were even conceived. They would talk about how it was their destiny to rule the Wizarding World, and how the mudblood invasion was only a minor setback.
If they weren't talking about blood, they were talking about fate.
Tom spent his first few years listening to the purebloods whisper. He ignored their disgust with him, the little mudblood Slytherin mutt. He listened to their talk and their ways and he learned.
His fourth year, Tom came back and shocked them all. He had a heritage and it mattered. Slytherin's Heir.
The purebloods looked at him now, and he had watched them long enough, that he spoke their tongue. He could strut like a pureblood and talk their talk. He could discuss politics with the seventh years, and sneeringly mock the mudbloods with his year mates. And when someone mentioned fate, Tom crowed how his fate was to lead the purebloods, as it was his ancestor's fate to start them on their path.
And the purebloods listened.
In Tom's seventh year, his followers insisted he take part in a ritual, one that all Slytherins had always participated in. It would show your Intended, whatever that meant. Abraxas Malfoy explained it as, "The Intended Ritual will show you who you will rule with, my Lord."
Of course, Tom didn't plan to rule with anyone, but went along with the ritual anyway.
It had gone well, at first. No one's name had appeared over Tom's head. Just as Tom was about to declare that he clearly wouldn't rule with anyone, smoky letters appeared over his head, which stated, "The Dark Lord shall be Soul Bound to the One Whose Appearance He Shares."
"What does that mean?!" Tom demanded of the fading letters.
"Oooooh... Soulmates!" Abrina Selwynn cooed. "Those are really rare."
"Only powerful witches and wizards have Soulmates," agreed Cygnus Black. "You're very lucky, my Lord."
Tom ground his teeth together furiously.
"I believe, my Lord," Abraxas offered soothingly, "that there will eventually be someone who looks very much like you do. This person will have to be equal to you in power to be your Soulmate."
"And what if I don't want this soulmate?" Tom asked.
"Why wouldn't you?! It's an honour!" Abrina screeched. The other purebloods whispered their agreements.
Abraxas smiled. "My Lord, you don't have a choice. Fate has decided it to be so."
Tom ground his teeth some more and vowed that he wouldn't let 'fate' decide anything for him.
The prophecy wasn't really that important, in the grand scheme of things. Voldemort heard it, then went to hear the rest of it under disguise – Severus hadn't quite been as good at hiding his mind back then – and decided that acting wouldn't bode well. He would have to 'mark' the child, right? So he'd wait, figure out which one was weaker, then 'mark' that one. It was simple.
In late October the next year, Wormtail happily announced to the crowd of Death Eaters in Voldemort's main meeting hall that the Potter boy "is going to have that wild black hair like James and already has Lily's green, green eyes. He'll be a real looker when he grows up."
"And strong," another Death Eater agreed. "Lily Evans was always top of her class in everything. And James Potter was no slouch, either. That boy could rival Dumbledore for power."
Voldemort had sat straight up at that, recalling that long-ago threat of a soulmate. He had worried over the Potter Heir – James – when the boy first started Hogwarts, since he did have many of the features a young Tom Riddle had possessed, but his eyes had been a reassuring hazel, and his power hadn't been quite enough. But, this son sounded like he could have power enough to match Voldemort.
And the boy's eyes were green. Like Tom Riddle's eyes, before he'd turned them red.
"Wormtail!" he barked, startling the entire group of gossiping fools. As soon as Wormtail met his eyes, Voldemort dove into his mind and quickly dug up the rat's memory of the child. The one-year-old looked terrifyingly like a very young Tom Riddle.
Voldemort quickly pulled out and stood. "My office," he ordered, then strode from the room. The little rat scurried after him. Once in his office, Voldemort quickly learned where the Potters were hidden and left to kill the little brat. He would have to let the mudblood live – Severus was quite taken with her, it was almost disgusting – but the father could die, and the child had to.
And as Voldemort stood over the stubborn woman's corpse and met those clear green eyes, he knew.
He rose his wand again and said, "Avada Kedavra."
And he knew nothing but pain.
Hermione had found the ritual while she was fighting with Ron. She was determined to prove, once and for all, who he should be with. Ron agreed to go through with the ritual, but only if Harry would as well. So Harry agreed. After all, it didn't hurt to find out who you were apparently supposed to end up with, according to 'fate'. Maybe, if the ritual said it was Ginny, Ron wouldn't freak quite as much, and Harry could admit it to himself.
He also teased Hermione in private of relying on fate too much and had gotten ingredients thrown at him.
As they stood around the circle Hermione had drawn in the Room of Requirement, Harry suddenly had doubts. What if Ginny wasn't the name that appeared? What if it was Pansy Parkinson or someone equally as horrible?
"Harry?" Hermione called. She and Ron were already standing in the circle, each other's names disappearing above their heads.
"Sorry," Harry said, then stepped forward.
Almost immediately, the words, "The Chosen One shall be Soul Bound to the One Whose Appearance He Shares" appeared over his head.
"The one whose appearance you share?" Ron parroted.
But Harry had already figured it out, a ghost of a memory commenting, "We even look something alike," in the young Voldemort's silky voice.
"Harry, you okay, mate? You don't look well," Ron said, breaking into Harry's memory.
"Uhm, yeah, fine," Harry replied, faking a smile. "I think I might go lie down, though. Sorry." And he walked out of the Room.
Behind him, Hermione said, "I wonder who might look like Harry. I know he looks like his dad, but I don't know anyone else with quite that hair or that shade of eyes."
"I know..." Ron agreed as the door closed behind their friend.
They were silent for a long moment before Hermione said, "He knows who it is, doesn't he?"
"I reckon he does. And he doesn't like it one bit."
Meanwhile, halfway to the Tower, Harry turned around and went to the library. He pulled out everything he could find on soul bonds and soulmates, then found a dark corner to read it all in. He didn't see the silver eyes which watched him suspiciously for a time, before leaving to write a much-needed letter home.
'You do know you can't kill me, right? And I can't kill you. Then why does this persist?
'I don't want to be bound to you anymore than you want to be bound to me, I think. Tell you what, go terrorise some other country and leave us in peace. I'll marry a nice girl and you can kill people and we can forget all about some stupid soul bond. (Which, by the way, you initiated when you tried to kill me.)
'If you keep terrorising Britain, I'll have to act. And I don't want to, but I have very little to lose. Except, you know, my life. Which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't all that important.
'You, on the other hand, have your title as Dark Lord to lose. I think that's what the prophecy means.
A week after Harry had sent his letter out, Voldemort and his people simply left. When Dumbledore revealed the Horcruxes to Harry and stated his intent that they go destroy one together, Harry shook his head.
Dumbledore was aghast. "Harry, my boy, surely you understand the importance of destroying these abominations! He's still out there, killing people!"
"Sir," Harry said quietly, "it's not that I don't want to – believe me, I want him dead as much as you – it's simply that I don't think I can destroy the Horcruxes. If you'll excuse me..."
So Dumbledore went alone to find the locket, and disappeared completely. At the memorial service that was held at the end of the year for the Headmaster, it was revealed that the curse that had rotted his hand probably killed him, as it had been doing for the entire year.
In the crowd, Harry cried silently while Hermione and Ginny sobbed on either side of him and Ron stared into the distance, eyes damp. He'd never told his friends about who his soulmate was, or that Dumbledore had asked him to come with to find the Horcrux. He'd never even mentioned Horcruxes to them, other than the once, when he'd first been told to learn about them.
He couldn't help but feel that Dumbledore's death was because of him.
After the funeral, the four friends went back to the Tower and Harry cuddled with Ginny, his official girlfriend. She cried and he ached. He knew it was the soul bond – it would always ache, according to the books he found – and he did his best to ignore it. He planned to always ignore it.
Ron and Harry entered the Aurors together, while Hermione went into the Department of Mysteries and worked odd hours. A year later, Ginny graduated from Hogwarts and joined her brother and boyfriend in their chosen line of work. Mere months after, the four had a double wedding and their families celebrated loudly and happily.
Two years later, Hermione and Ron had a beautiful daughter, Rose, while Harry and Ginny had young James, who looked frighteningly like his father, but with Ginny's brown eyes. Both children were doted on by their entire family and it was a happy time.
Then, the cry came from America to the homeland. Voldemort was invading and they were asking for help. And Britain had promised that, were America to ever ask for help, they would give it.
Harry suddenly found Ron and himself being given the orders to go to America. When Harry tried to fight it, Scrimgeour said, "Potter, you managed to avoid fighting him on our turf, but you're the only one who can destroy him, and you will go. Even if I have to knock you out and throw you through the Floo myself. Understood?"
So Harry kissed his wife good-bye and left for America with his brother-in-law.
Once on American soil, Harry found an owl and sent it with a letter to the Dark Lord, warning him he had no choice but to get involved. The next day, an owl came which said, 'You will come to me, now.'
And, right in front of half the Aurors there, Harry Potter was taken by a portkey.
The camp fell into panic.
"Well, hello again, Harry," said that silky voice from Harry's nightmares.
Harry turned and found himself looking at a matured Tom Riddle. He blinked a few times, then managed a quiet, "Tom."
Tom Riddle smiled coldly and walked up to a intricately carved wooden chair on a dais. "So, America finally stooped to calling the British for help? And they sent you."
"I'm an Auror," Harry said stiffly.
"I know," Tom replied, leaning forward in his chair. "I've been keeping up. One of the top Aurors, partner to Ronald Weasley. Married to Auror Ginevra Weasley. You have a son? James?"
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you're stalking me," Harry replied nervously.
"No," Tom said with a creepy smile, "just obsessed."
Harry gulped and conjured a chair to sit in. "Great, thanks. Because enough people aren't obsessed with me. I swear, some days I think I need a guard of Aurors just to get to work!"
Tom laughed and Harry was almost entranced by the sound. "Ah, my Harry–"
"I'm not yours!" Harry snapped, standing furiously.
"Ah, but you are, Harry," Tom purred. "You are my soulmate–"
"We agreed it was in both our best interests if we ignored that," Harry growled, clenching his fists.
"Ah, poor, sweet, Harry," Tom purred. "How have you been, sleeping with a woman who isn't me? Is it filling? Do you enjoy it, or do you just go through the motions?"
"I love Ginny," Harry said firmly. "And I'll thank you not to question it again."
Tom smiled, and Harry got chills down his spine. "How does the thought of me sleeping with another person make you feel, my Harry? Bella, perhaps. Or Draco? They are both beautiful. Wonderful in bed.... Ah, you're angry. Jealous? You don't like thinking of me with someone else." Tom climbed down from his chair and walked over to where Harry was trying to calm his fury and figure out what was wrong with him. He shouldn't be feeling these things about Voldemort.
Tom's fingers brushed over Harry's cheek and he jerked back, horrified by his body jumping to attention. "What are you playing at, Voldemort?!"
Tom's kind face darkened and he grabbed Harry's arms roughly. "I don't want you sleeping with that blood traitor, my Harry. I want you with me. You will be with me."
"I'll never be with you!" Harry spat, struggling against the inhumanly strong hold. "Let go of me, you murderer!"
Tom smiled again, but didn't let go. "Yes, Harry," he whispered, "I'm a murderer. And I employ murderers. How safe is your home?"
"Your little boy is with his grandparents now, isn't he? And what of your goddaughter? Rose? She's with her mother at work. Explosions are not unknown to occur. Or perhaps I should remind you of your sweet godson, Teddy? How well is the Lupin residence warded?"
"You've made your point, Voldemort."
"Oh, my Harry, I didn't want to threaten your family," the Dark Lord practically cooed. "You know I'd never hurt any of them."
"Don't lie to me. You'd happily kill them, if it served your purposes."
"Ah, yes," Tom agreed cheerfully.
Harry felt sick.
"Now, will you behave? Will you stay with me?" Tom asked, and there was something like hope in his voice.
Harry swallowed. "You ask that as if you're giving me a choice."
"Oh, but you have a choice, sweet Harry. You can be willing, and I'll leave your family alone, or you can fight me, and I'll destroy everything you care for, until I'm the only thing left."
"You're mad," Harry realized. "You've gone completely mad."
Tom smiled, and for the first time, Harry saw the spark of insanity in those red-lined green eyes. "Come now, we must complete the bonding. It will be better once we've been properly bonded," Tom said, leading Harry from the cavernous room he'd landed in.
"What do you mean, 'properly bonded'?" Harry asked, attempting to keep the other talking. With enough time, Ron might be able to track him down with the locator given to each Auror, just in case of situations like this. Anyway, Harry's past experiences with Voldemort had shown him that the older wizard loved to hear the sound of his own voice. Perhaps, if he kept him talking, Voldemort wouldn't be able to bond them. Or whatever.
"You did your reading, surely?" Tom asked, still walking.
"Ah, yes. And you didn't have a pass to the Restricted Section. Well, when I created the bond by marking you, it wasn't fully completed, partially because you were so young at the time. Now that we're both fully aware of the bond, we'll slowly start to go insane if we don't finish the bonding." Tom smiled at him again.
"And then I can go?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Oh, no. Once bonded, we'll be together forever. And since I can't die, and I won't let you die, it really will be forever! Isn't that wonderful?"
Harry bit his tongue to keep from saying the first response that came to mind. He wished, now, that he'd gone out and at least collected the Horcruxes. Told someone else about them and let them destroy the damn things.
"Wait," Harry said, his mouth moving before his mind could fully catch up, "do you intend to have me make a Horcrux too?"
"Oh, you do know about that. Excellent. And yes, yes, of course you will. You'll have to be alive for us to rule the world, right? We can't have you dying, oh no. Oh! We're here! This is my bedroom, isn't it lovely?" Tom pushed open the door he'd dragged Harry to and hurried through the outer chamber into the slightly smaller chamber that had a huge bed in it. The entire suite was done in dark greens and black, with a hint of silver here and there for highlights. Not that Harry really saw much of it.
"Why are we in your bedroom?" Harry asked nervously, as the door between the chambers magically locked behind him.
"We must consummate the bond, of course!" Tom said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Come now, Harry, our future awaits us!"
"Isn't there another way?" Harry begged, trying to get the little Harry to behave. For some reason, everything Voldemort was suggesting – them getting into bed together – made little Harry rather excited, even if Harry himself felt nauseous.
Tom looked surprised. "No. Why, are you saying you don't want me? I changed my appearance back just for you, my sweet. Would you prefer my other face? I can change back–"
"No! No, I just–"
"It's that little red-headed whore, isn't it?" Tom realized, eyes darkening as he spoke. "You can't betray her, my Harry. I'm your first, your true soulmate. You know that. It's me you've betrayed, not her! Not that slime, that wretch, that....bitch!"
Harry shook his head and tried to think fast.
"I'll kill her!" Tom concluded, and the door behind Harry unlocked.
Harry didn't even consider running – he'd never get to Ginny in time – instead, he grabbed the front of Tom's robes and dragged the insane man down for a kiss.
Immediately, the Dark Lord was calm, and the door locked again. Harry barely had time to breathe a sigh of relief before he found himself thrown onto the bed, with Tom crawling atop him. "Ah, my sweet..." the man whispered as he leaned down and possessively kissed Harry, grinding his hips against Harry's.
All thought fled Harry's mind. The sensation of being with his soul bonded was...impossible to describe. It was like waking up next to Ginny, and seeing little James, and being with the Weasleys, but all at the same time. It was overwhelming. It was everything, and it was nothing.
And, when Tom pulled back to take his robe off, Harry was suddenly reminded that he didn't want to be here. He did not want this!
But then Tom was on him again, and Harry's clothing was being ripped off. He raked his fingers down Tom's chest and wished he didn't bite his nails. He didn't want to be there!
But he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop himself from arching into Tom Riddle's touch. Couldn't help the moans that slipped his lips as the other man twisted his nipples and touched his penis. Couldn't help the gasps at the touch of Tom's penis at Harry's opening.
And when Tom entered him, the physical hurt was overwhelming, but not so much as the pure pleasure and the emotional scream that ripped his mind apart. He'd betrayed Ginny.
He'd betrayed the one person he'd ever truly cared for, and he enjoyed it.
And when it was over, when Tom was satisfied and laying next to Harry and petting his hair, Harry couldn't react.
"So silent, my sweet," Tom whispered.
I miss my family.
"You didn't like it?" Tom asked, concerned. "It's said to be a wonderful experience. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Everything I am, everything I've lived for...
"You are bleeding. Let me get something for that."
Harry closed his eyes and smiled as his hand wrapped around the end of his wand.
"I'll be right back, my.... Who's that at the door? I told you idiots not to disturb me!"
Harry lifted his wand and pointed it at himself. "Every thing's gone. There's nothing left. Nothing to live for."
"Harry! Are you in there?!" Ron's voice shouted.
In the next room, facing off against the party of Aurors who had come to rescue their own, Tom Riddle's eyes widened and he turned to the cracked doorway, where his soulmate lay dead. And he too, died.
For no soul can live without its bonded mate, no matter how many pieces it's been broken into.
A/N: This was not meant to be such a sad fic. I had meant for this story to be happy, and to be an alternate and semi-believable way for Tom and Harry to get together. (You all know me.) Ginny wasn't even supposed to be important.
But the boys decided their own outcome, and all I could do was write it.
Sorry if I made you cry.