Warning: This Story contains SLASH, LV/HP if this offends please do not read.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling


Warning: Lemons and a bit er... fluffy

An Unwise Murder

Chapter Four


The day before Christmas Eve, Lucius came into his office. He looked pale and anxious.

Voldemort had moved into Slytherin Manor. The fact that the Brat had screamed at him that he hated being in the same house as the babe, hated that his friends were dead and buried down by the lake but he wasn't, had nothing to do with it. No. His takeover was complete. Within days Voldemort had been well and truly in control.

And the Brat was well and truly out of control.

He had first appeared back at Malfoy Manor four days after the taking of Hogwarts. Voldemort had sat at his desk in his private suite listening to the shouting as it grew louder the closer it got to his rooms.

"Get off my leg you stupid creature!"

"You are not going into his Lordness' private rooms! He does not allow it! Bad bad Harry Potter! Yous is getting back down stairs until I tells him yous is here!"

"Nagini! Get thisss bloody elf off me!"

There was a thump and a shriek and then the Brat burst into his private rooms. He looked wild and pale and angry and... relieved to see him. He opened his mouth and... mouthed off offensively about not being dead and buried; hissed that he was a selfish inconsiderate bastard for making him come here to see him when he loathed the place; and warned him that if the 'fucking house elf' called him 'bad Harry Potter' just one more time, he would kill it and that was a promise. Then he threw himself down in the chair opposite him, silently staring at him for two hours.

Voldemort had studiously ignored him and the burning resentful eyes boring a hole in his head, and continued to draw up a new curriculum for Hogwarts.

"All right, Brat," Voldemort threw down his quill as he finally finished his work. "I will move into Slytherin Manor tomorrow. The floo will be open to you and wards will recognise my former wand's signature."

Harry stood up and left.

So a pattern had began. The Brat would appear anytime during the day, every day, like a mini tornado, to rant and rave at him, stare at him, then disappear at nightfall. By the end of the first week of this behaviour, he looked like the walking dead, smelt like a brewery and his hair could have housed crows. He clearly was not sleeping at all as the shadows under his eyes grew darker daily. Even Nagini had given up. She had slapped him resoundingly around the back of the head with her tail during one of his mad tirades, told him to grow up, and left the room with her head in the air.

When Voldemort was with him, his pain and anger and worse his completely random banal thoughts rattled around in his head until his teeth screamed and he had began to wish he had killed the Brat just to get some peace! So he had developed a strong barrier to block him from his mind. He only saw what he wanted to see, when he wanted to see it. He knew the Brat was pushing him to kill him. Raise his wand and end his misery. He saw his fury at him that clouded his senses while at the same time his fascination and need to be near him overrode his futile attempts to stay away.

In the middle of the second week, the murders had begun. Members of the Order of the Phoenix, unknown to him or Lucius, had started to appear on his doorstep with OTP carved into their foreheads. Not that he minded, it was quite useful in fact. But why on his doorstep? Were they a gift? A 'statement' he didn't understand? Or more likely, knowing the Brat's frame of mind at the moment, just an inconvenience for him to clean up. The staring was a still a daily occurrence, the Brat would arrive, search him out, scream and shout at him and stare. Intense furious stares, or completely lost stares, or 'I don't understand' stares. Then he would get up and disappear, either back to Grimmauld Place, or Diagon Ally, to drink and get into fights. He had been arrested twice and Lucius had dealt with it. Voldemort had decided to have him very discreetly followed by a bodyguard of Death Eaters who were only to interfere if the little nuisance was about to get himself killed.

Then there were the screaming matches with Bella if she happened to visit when the Brat was there. And Voldemort made sure she did. They would argue and fight about blood and muggles and then start throwing hexes at each other and spitting insults. After several incidences of this Bella reluctantly conceded on 'blood', but nothing would change her mind about muggles. So the fights and hexing continued until one of them got hurt and then the Brat would heal Bella or himself and they'd have a drink. Voldemort encouraged it because he could see the Brat enjoyed it. Especially the duelling. Bella was deceptive, she may be mad but he had taught her himself. She was not to be taken lightly in battle. It tested them both and as long as no curses were being thrown, Voldemort was content.

Fifteen days in, he hadn't been at home for one of the Brat's mad invasions. He had gone to the Ministry to check on how things were running. Then onto the Ministry in France to have talks and attend a reception with Lucius. When he had returned home late that night the Brat was there in a semi-catatonic state, seemingly having a panic attack at the same time. Nagini was wrapped around him having her own mini-meltdown, spitting that the Brat had convinced himself that he was dead. The fact that he couldn't die seemed to have slipped the Brat's mind completely. Voldemort had spent over an hour sitting next to him talking nonsense until the glazed eyes had suddenly focused. For long minutes the Brat hadn't said anything, just stared at him, his mouth working silently, his face white. Then as the stark fear in his eyes had faded he had finally spat at him that he was a selfish bastard for not leaving a note, got up, and left. Voldemort had made sure he was always at home after that.

The following night, Voldemort had felt the wards disturbance in the early hours of the morning. He had wondered what it meant. Would he go down in the morning and find bodies piled up in his breakfast room. Would the level of his malt whiskey have drained from full to empty. Would his library be wrecked as the Brat pulled book after book out, never returning it to it's rightful place as he either sneered with disgust and threw it down, or raised his brows and tapped it with his wand, marking it for later reading. Voldemort had wondered if he realised what that meant. But the Brat seemed unaware as he marked his own personal mini library out of the huge selection of books Voldemort owned.

So he had laid listening, half amused half annoyed. When he had heard him creeping up the stairs he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. The door opened and quiet footsteps approached the bed. After a long moment he heard the noise of an armchair, one of two situated by the fire, being moved. On occasion they had sat opposite each other in this room when the Brat had stormed through the Mansion to find him in his favourite chair with his favourite drink, reading Salazar's tome. Then he would sit quietly opposite him and close his eyes. His riotous brain would quieten, reconnect, and his intelligence shine through. Almost as if the mere sight of the book was such a reverent thing to him that it calmed him completely. Eventually they would have a discussion about the book; its magic, or Salazar's thinking, or the use of the older rituals.

The chair had been dragged across the room and Voldemort had felt his covers shift as the Brat pushed it flush against his side of the bed. Then the sound of him getting comfortable, a sigh, and the heavy rhythmic breathing of sleep. When he opened his eyes he saw by the fire light that Harry was curled up in his favourite armchair. His white face completely relaxed for once, his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, the welt looking less raised and livid. He had asked him once, why, as he was a natural healer, he did not remove it. The Brat had just looked at him for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then he had said that he wanted to keep it to remember.

Voldemort had watched him sleeping for some time, before covering him with a large soft duvet.

He had left his chair by the bed and installed another by the fire. It wasn't as comfortable, it didn't fit his body in the same way. But if for some obscure reason the Brat could only find sleep in his old chair, so be it. Every night since, the Brat had slept thus. Only last night, he hadn't appeared, and so far today, it now being late afternoon, he hadn't stormed his Mansion. Voldemort tried not to dwell on how much he didn't like it.

"How are thing's at the Ministry, Lucius? Is there a problem?" Voldemort asked sharply, coming back to the present. Lucius was now Minister of Magic, and he took his duties very seriously. To come here in person... and he looked... very distressed.

"My, Lord. It is Harry."

For a second Voldemort froze. He felt blood drain from his face so quickly it left him feeling ill. "Is the Brat dead?" He hissed.

"What?!... no..." Lucius backed away slightly from the look on his Lord's face. "No, but he has been... arrested... My Lord." He added quickly.

Voldemort was so very tempted to end Lucius for giving him such a fright that he had to clench his fists. "Is that all? Well release him and tell him to come and see me immediately. I will speak to him. Was he fighting again, drunk... what?"

"My Lord," Lucius said gravely. "He was arrested last night on suspicion of murder. His muggle family are all dead. The muggle police have Harry in custody. One of ours is acting as his solicitor. Harry refuses to speak at all."

Voldemort's lips tightened and he narrowed his eyes to slits. "Tell me every last detail, Lucius!" He spat.


Voldemort took care of it himself. Having seen the 'Harry Hunting' in the Brat's mind the same day he had discovered he was his Horcrux, he formulated a plan that would allow the Brat to walk free in his muggle world. He could just walk into the Police station and collect him, but that would make Harry Potter a 'wanted criminal'. He could just walk in and collect him and then blow the station up and every muggle in it for daring to incarcerate the Brat... but he had a feeling the Brat would be angry at him for such an action and he had enough of his 'anger' directed at him already. He didn't want to make it even worse.

As soon as he had the information he needed, that same night, while the Brat was safely locked up in a cell, he cut the throats of the four associates of the Brat's cousin while they slept in their beds in the same manner that Harry had murdered the Dursley's. All of them were found by their parents shortly after. Voldemort made sure of it.

It was very quickly asserted by the Police that Dudley Dursley and his gang had become the victims of their own sordid lifestyle which included drug running, extortion, and robbery. Petunia and Vernon Dursley were unlucky enough to have been caught up in their son's murder whereas the other four sets of parents had slept soundly through the attacks. In their opinion it was gang related. Harry Potter, arriving home from boarding school for Christmas, had gone into shock on finding them. When the police had arrived so promptly, having been alerted of a disturbance by an elderly neighbour, he had not been able to speak. It was deemed lucky for Potter that he had not arrived minutes sooner, or he would have been a victim too.

Harry was apologised to and transported to the local hospital. It was assumed he was severely traumatised as he still hadn't spoken a word. They were in fact correct. Harry just couldn't believe he had actually killed the Dursley's. Worse for Harry was when a 'happy' Social Worker turned up because he was still considered a minor until he turned eighteen. She sat speaking to him encouragingly, while he lay on a bed staring at the wall, as if he was two years old. She could only have been a year or two older than he was herself! Harry thought acidly. It was Christmas Eve, early evening. Was he going to have to spend Christmas in here? Talking to a shrink?!

When Bella walked into his room he nearly fell off the bed. "Potter." she spat. "What is the meaning of that disgusting floral robe you are wearing! Your arse is hanging out of it! Put this on!" She threw a dark green robe at his face.

"Hi, I'm Hilary." Trilled the smiling shiny faced Social Worker, leaping up from a high backed seat that had hidden her from view and holding out her hand.

Bella jumped back and hissed. "Approach me not!"

Hilary frowned. Then smiled again. "Sorry, you are...?"

"His aunt, muggle!" Bella snapped, her eyes wide and wild. "I'm taking him home. You... go away!"

"Oh I had no idea he had another aunt, he hasn't spoken at all yet. I'm so sorry for you loss. Were you related to Petunia Dursley or..."

"POTTER!" Bella screeched, slapping her hands over her ears and staring at the sympathetic face of Hilary in complete horror and disgust. "MAKE IT STOP SPEAKING!"

Hilary shook her head and her finger at Bella. "No, no, he can't go with you. You are obviously as traumatised as he is. More so in fact. You need medical help. Harry is due to be sedated soon. Poor little mite, it looks as if it's been a very long time since he had any sleep. And he is half starved! Also he is covered in scars that need to be investigated. No I'm sorry, Aunty Muggle. Harry is staying right here."

Bella went apoplectic. "Did you just call me... Aunty Muggle." She bit out.

"Oh, so I did. Sorry." Hilary giggled. "Force of habit, I usually deal with much younger children. Harry has to stay here I'm afraid, until he has seen a Psychologist, Ms Muggle."

Bella pulled her wand. "Goodbye, Hilary." She hissed. "Avada...

"Bella," Harry croaked. "Just Obliviate her and get me the fuck out of here. I need to get my wand."


"So, we went back to his filthy muggle hovel and he retrieved his wand from a cupboard where he had chucked it before he was arrested. My Lord, his filthy family had made him live in it for eleven years! I was quite overcome when he showed me a little toy soldier he had stolen. His only toy! It was still there, standing on a shelf! And pictures drawn by an infant were there too. Anyway, then we had this huge row about muggles and we exchanged a few hexes. Though I didn't push him too hard as I felt sorry for the little bastard..."

"Bella." Voldemort interrupted. "I did not send you to squabble with the Brat, I sent you to get him out of the hospital."

"We sort of made up because he said though it hadn't been one of your wisest decisions to send me to get him from a muggle hospital, I had done well not to kill one... so, if I killed the squib Arabella Figg for him, who lived next door and had called the Police before he had even entered the house to wish his family Merry Yule, he would give me something shiny for Yule! He thanked me, then he apparated away, my Lord." Bella finished her story and bowed.

"Did you dispose of the squib, Bella?" Voldemort asked, somewhat understanding now how Harry had managed to get himself 'caught' in the first place.

"Yeees. She spied on Potter for years you know, for Dumbledore. She knew the Order were all dead and said Potter was a dirty traitor. She wanted revenge. I taught her the meaning of it, my Lord. Her house smelt of cabbage."

Voldemort nodded. "Very well, Bella, you can go."

Voldemort made his way upstairs. As he prepared himself for bed he realised it was Christmas Eve. He cast tempus and saw in fact, that it was Christmas day. He made himself comfortable with Salazar's tome. He opened the cover and skimmed the inscription to read; 'Merry Christmas, Voldemort. The Brat.' He turned the pages to his bookmark and began to read.


Harry was, at that moment, standing on Hogwarts grounds. His sanctuary; that Dumbledore had turned into a castle of horror for him. If he could – he would have destroyed it until there was not a brick left standing. His gaze swept over the undisturbed expanse of snow that sparkled under the full moon like a rolling sea of Mother of Pearl. It had enthralled him every winter, here at the place he had considered his home. He hadn't realised the effect the moon could have on snow until he had come here and seen it on one of his outside wanderings beneath his invisibility cloak. He had thought it the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

As he moved his head around now it glimmered with pinpricks of sparkling light and colour, blues and mauves and reds and... he just stood and stared. He had been doing a lot of that lately. Staring. And screaming and shouting and pushing Voldemort to the limits of his endurance so he would raise his wand and end his misery. It hadn't worked. The Dark Lord had the patience of a saint – for him anyway. There was no peace anywhere for Harry apart from nights spent in a chair beside the bed of his former enemy. So he had gone to his relatives, to try to make sense of it all; back to the beginning. He thought maybe, if he attempted to make peace with them, the rest would follow. It had been a bit of a mistake. Harry laughed shortly and shook his head.

He unsheathed his wand. The wand that had belonged to Voldemort, feeling the thrill of power, the sense of belonging as he held it in his hand... He drew it across his left palm making a shallow cut. Carefully he made a fist and watched as the first splash of blood hit the snow, then he moved his hand slightly along and watched a second fall. He became mesmerised by the contrast and just stared, his mind replaying every single conversation, every nuance and look and touch that had been exchanged between him and the Dark Lord since the day he had apparated into the drawing room at Malfoy Manor, holding Hermione's body.

He closed his eyes as a sense of intense calm washed over him and the deafening cacophony that plagued his brain evaporated. He took a deep relieved breath and walked to the gates. Once there he apparated to Grimmauld Place.


When Voldemort awoke, the Brat was staring down at him. He smelt of spices, his hair was loose around his shoulders and shinning in the firelight, his eyes were dark and intense. He smiled and began to undress, first his boots, his trousers, and then his robe and green silk boxers. He laid his clothes on the chair by the bed. Voldemort pulled the Duvet back and the Brat slid into his bed and into his arms.

"It is over, Brat?" Voldemort questioned stroking his hair as Harry laid his head under his chin, rubbing his cheek against the skin of his chest like a cat.

"It's over." Harry said. He ran his fingers over soft cool skin, feeling lean perfectly formed muscle, the perfect proportions and elegant shape of the body, the perfect smoothness of the hairless skin.

Voldemort shuddered as the light caresses of deliciously warm hands explored the lines of his body as if committing them to memory. The Brat left no curve, no rib, no hip or thigh untouched. As his fingers ran over his hardening appendage, he closed his eyes.

"And you are here to stay." Voldemort shifted his weight, rolling over the too slender form of the Brat, running his hand over his throat and along the curve of his shoulder.

"My trunk is downstairs."

The Brat grinned up at him, the flash of white teeth and the scar on his cheek giving him a sudden roguish charm that shot straight to Voldemort's loins. He growled and attacked his mouth, tasting mint and whiskey.

"Nagini will be so pleased." He said ghosting over pale pink lips. As Harry gave a bark of laughter, Voldemort covered his mouth fully and the kiss became passionate and urgent as tongues met and explored and they became familiar with the taste of each other.

Harry started to moan and began thrusting up against Voldemort's sleek undulating movements as he pressed their naked flesh together. He was so hard it was painful and the feel of Voldemort's solid member gliding against his was almost too much. He gasped as a long slick finger began to probe him softly then more firmly until Harry flung his arms around Voldemort's neck and reared up. He clung onto strong shoulders as Voldemort's finger slid in to the knuckle.

"Relax." He said gently, and lowered him back down on the bed and covered his mouth, watching the slight panic fade from his dark green eyes as his tongue stroked his soothingly, and his hips kept up their slow lazy seduction. After some moments he eased a second slick finger into the impossibly tight warmth, crooking them and rubbing against the knot that had Harry opening his legs as wide as he could and begin to push back down onto his fingers.

"Yesss my adorable Brat." Voldemort hissed against his lips, pushing deeper. He added a third finger and carefully began to stretch him.

When he was ready Voldemort moved back and pulling his fingers from Harry pushed into him smoothly laying over him again to take a pale nipple into his mouth, sucking on it as his hips moved languidly and he felt muscles beginning to relax around him.

Harry moaned as pure sensation took over from the burn of entry and he melted. Voldemort began to roll his hips and brush against the area that made him mewl with every stroke. It was slow and gentle and smooth and easy and beautiful and unexpected and executed with such finesse... "Kiss me", Harry moaned hoarsely. "Gods, Voldemort, kiss me."

Voldemort lifted his head and looked at the urgent face and begging eyes. He wasn't taken aback anymore by the Brat's need for him, his want of his touch, his fascination. He was enthralled by it. Spellbound by the slender body beneath him that was so strong, the Brat's uncompromising edge of darkness, and the powerful magic that would develop under his tutelage. As would his challenging intellect and thirst for knowledge. He covered the sweet mouth with his, tasting him and moving with more urgency, his whole body alive with the complete thrill of him. He wrapped his fingers around his warm perfect cock and began to stroke it rhythmically, swallowing the gasps it evoked.

"Harry," he murmured against his lips, "Harry. You are my passion."

Hearing the words spoken with such tenderness from the lips of the most feared Wizard in the world, Harry came with a shuddering exquisite rush, lifting his legs and wrapping them around the slim hips, clenching around Voldemort tightly as he felt the powerful pulsing and slowed hard thrusts of the shimmering being above him as he climaxed. For the first time Harry saw those solid red eyes change and lighten, reflecting the light playing over his face from the fire.

Afterwards he lay quietly in the pale cool arms, his cheek pressed against Voldemort's, and his whole body melted anew under the light stroking hands running over his back, the fingers tracing the lines of his scars every now and then.

"I went to see them," Harry began. "They had hated me all of my life. I thought... I thought that if I made some kind of peace with them... As soon as I got in there they started on me. Dudley pushing me around, Vernon turning purple and shouting at the top of his voice. Petunia screeching about how I never come home for Christmas and what did I think I was playing at. And I thought the two best people I had ever known are dead and you three are alive. Vernon got hold of me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me towards the front door as if he was putting out the rubbish... and that's how they had treated me all of my life, as if I was rubbish they couldn't wait to put out. I just snapped...

"When I came back to myself I couldn't believe I'd done it. I would never have hurt them. I have magic, they don't, I don't attack and kill defenceless, weak, muggles, even if they are the most obnoxious people on the planet, and I think my family definitely were. I just stood there in the hallway staring at them. Then the Police were there, so fast, and... as they took me away I saw Arabella Figg, standing on the front lawn watching me with a smirk on her face. Dumbledore's spy, a member of The Order of The Phoenix who had supposedly been keeping her eye on me as I was 'growing up'. She didn't do a very good job. Her spite was her stupidity because I had forgotten about her... that she was a member of the Order." Harry grimaced, "I bribed Bella to do it for me, I needed to go... to Hogwarts."

Harry lifted his head staring into red eyes. "You said I'd find my place in this world, and I know that it is with you. But I'm not a killer. I have killed, with reason, and will again if I have reason. The members of the Order I have been leaving on your doorstep were necessary. If they had lived, they would have begun to incite rebellion, recruited as many members as they could. Only to then be put down by you. Arabella was the last of The Order, they are over."

"Vitualamen pauci ut servo plures" Voldemort said running a light finger down the welt on his cheek. "'Sacrifice the few to save the many.' And you are quite right of course. I would have crushed them and enjoyed it. You see me as many things, Brat, do not forget in your veneration for my mind that I am a killer. But... you can be my... voice of reason. I have thought of your words often. I do not wish to rule dust and ashes. And Ignorance is a lack of knowledge as is prejudice. Proper education will help. Later we will speak more of blood..." He broke off as the Brat pounced on him, covering his mouth with his.

Voldemort clasped the warm body against him tightly, wondering if there was a deity somewhere he should be thanking.

"Show me again," Harry said dragging his lips down across his throat. "You said I was your passion. Show me again," He began to undulate along his body as Voldemort had done to him. He didn't think his movement or technique was in the same class but it felt good and Voldemort seemed to...

"You want my Passion for you, Brat?" Harry was flipped onto his back. "Then you shall have it."

It was as far removed from the slow exquisite gentleness of the first time as the moon is from the sun. It was hard and fast and urgent and took Harry to heights he didn't know existed. As he lay under the pounding body he thought maybe he was in love. As he stroked and then clung onto the shoulders above him, chanting his name and staring into eyes blazing with light and fire, he was sure of it.


'About time ssselfisssh Brat!' Nagini spat as she slithered into the breakfast room and onto Harry's lap as he chewed a piece of sausage staring at the man opposite him. They were having a late brunch as neither had wanted to leave their bed for mere food. Harry could have stayed there all day but Voldemort insisted he had to eat as he was too thin. When Harry had said they could eat in bed Voldemort had looked at him horrified.

Harry stroked her coils as they wound around him. 'It would be nice if you at leassst called me Harry.'

'No.' Nagini hissed, her tongue flickering over his face.

'I'm beginning to think that sssaying 'no' to me isss your favourite thing.' Harry looked at her and smiled. 'That and sssmacking me with your tail.'

'You dessserved it. You were obnoxiousss. Have you a presssent for me? Massster alwaysss givesss me a muggle for Yule and...'

'Nagini!' Voldemort hissed angrily. 'SSSHUT UP!' He looked at the Brat's shocked face. "Well, obviously, Harry, I won't be doing that anymore." He smiled solicitously and carried on eating his breakfast.

Harry shook his head and transfigured four sausages into big fat rats. Nagini hissed happily and shot off him to catch them. He looked at Voldemort who was studiously ignoring him and laughed. "Are there any other Christmas traditions that need 'tweaking' now that I'm here?" He asked.

"No." Voldemort said shortly, thinking of all the 'Yule muggles' he had given to Bella over the years. But he hadn't given her any since his return, so hopefully she'd keep her mouth shut about it. As he thought it, Bella burst into the room. He pulled out his wand to kill her.

"Happy Yule!" She shouted loudly bowing to Voldemort. "Potter! Where's my shiny present! Cabbage Squib is dead!"

Harry laughed and rose to his feet. He eyed the Elder Wand in Voldemort's hand with a raised brow. Voldemort sheathed it.

"How did you know I was here?" Harry asked walking over to a package he had left on a small table.

"House elves. My Lord's told Narcissa's, who told mine, who told the Parkinson's, who told... on and on... Everyone knows. They are the biggest gossips in the whole of the world." She started to bounce up and down as he handed her the package. She ripped the paper off and opened the box. Her breath hissed as she stared into it not moving.

"Does this mean I have to like you now?" she asked suspiciously.

"No. It means you have to love me." Harry rolled his eyes. "I said I would give you something shiny. You have it. That is all. Go away and do whatever it is you do on Christmas day. As long as it doesn't involve muggles and death." He added drily.

Bella shook her head absently still staring into the box. "No, not any more. Narcissa wants you both to come for dinner tonight. Potter, do you want me to Crucio anyone for you. Severus perhaps? He's at Malfoy Manor already getting on my nerves. Stupid man is treating me like a piece of glass just because I was limping a bit this morning."

"I'll take that as your way of saying 'thanks'. But no thanks. If you ever feel the need to speak to me again, call me Harry. Snape calls me Potter and I can't stand it."

"I suppose." Bella removed the large diamond heart set on a long heavy platinum chain from the box and hung it around her neck. It fell to just above here waist and sparkled brightly against her black satin dress. She went into a trance stroking it lovingly. "I've never had any jewellery, Pot... Harry. Not that I was allowed to keep anyway. This is the most magnificent piece I've ever seen. I'm going now, goodbye." She said dazedly, staring down at the pendant. She walked out of the room forgetting to bow to Voldemort for the first time in her life.

Harry laughed and walked over to Voldemort. "That shut her up." He put his arms around the Dark Lord's neck and kissed him. "I haven't got anything for you I'm afraid. That was part of Hermione's Christmas present. I don't think you would appreciate the Rolex I was going to give Draco."

Voldemort hummed, licking Harry's lips. "What is there left that you could possibly give me, Brat. You have given me everything I ever wanted. And more. But, I do have something for you." He pulled a tiny wrapped package from his robe pocket and enlarged it. Holding it out to Harry.

Harry shook his head, knowing immediately what it was. "No, it's yours. I can't accept it. It shouldn't leave your possession, ever."

"It wont, as you will never leave my possession, Harry. Take it. I will of course be borrowing it extensively. But it is yours."

Harry took Salazar's tome and unwrapped it with shaking fingers. He took a deep breath. "Thank you is so... inadequate. But thank you. This... this is..."

Voldemort smiled. "You can thank me properly in the bedroom."

"Oh, that will be my pleasure, my Lord." Harry bowed low with a grin slashing his lips.

Voldemort's eyes widened and his breath caught. "So soon, Potter," he drawled... watching the slight frown of confusion on the Brat's face at his statement and the flush appear on his white cheeks. "I admit I thought it would take you longer..." He grabbed him around the waist and apparated. Salazar's tome was dropped to the bedside table as they tore at each other's robes.

"Say it again, Potter!" Voldemort growled turning him roughly on all fours. A spell and the Brat was ready. He wanted him now this instant as his blood roared through his veins.

"My Lord!" Harry shouted. Then screamed as he was impaled by Voldemort's turgid member. He held onto the headboard as he was pounded into, trying to catch his breath. Then his hair was being pulled and hot lips were at his ear.

"Up on your knees, Potter, for your Lord". Voldemort hissed in a low evil voice he only ever used if someone was going to die.

Harry pushed up and an arm snaked around his waist as the tone of Voldemort's voice curled his toes and sent such shocks of pleasure throughout his body he was undone. "Fuck, I'm going to come!" he moaned.

"You will not until your Lord allows it, Potter." Voldemort spat, his voice even colder than before as he thrust up into him with such force Harry lifted off the bed.

"It's your voice! Oh my god your voice! I can't..." Harry, came, much to his shame, in long shuddering spasms that he thought were never going to end.

The sight of it, as Voldemort looked over his shoulder, and muscles squeezing tightly around him, had him shuddering in completion too.

Harry covered his face with his hands. "What was that! Oh Christ! At the last battle you would have said 'And now you die, Potter!' In that voice, and I'd have come in my pants!"

Voldemort laughed. Casting a cleansing charm he pulled Harry down beside him watching with amusement as the Brat hid his face on his stomach. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling his breath on his navel.

"It's not funny." Harry said in a muffled voice as he pressed his hot cheeks into Voldemort's cool skin.

"Brat, you will come to love it and control it. Stop feeling shamed for taking pleasure in something that only you perceive as deviant. By the time I've finished, this will be nothing compared to the other things you enjoy."

"What do you mean?" Harry lifted his head, panic written all over his face.

Voldemort smiled the most evil smile Harry had ever seen. "I can see into your mind, Harry Potter. Into your subconscious. I see your innermost desires, and believe me when I say that I shall take great pleasure in slowly making you realise each and every one of them."

Harry just stared. "You mean, all that, I... it was... that was what I wanted?"

Voldemort pulled Harry up and over him staring into half scared, half excited, eyes. "Oh, yes. There are a lot of things you want, Harry. That was only one of them." His voice switched. "You want the Dark Lord using you, Potter. You want to be told to kneel and to beg and to scream with pleasure. Don't you?"

Harry nodded slowly his eyes wide as the icily hissed voice made him shiver exquisitely and harden painfully as the red eyes hypnotised him.

Voldemort nodded along with him. "Yes, that's right. Now," he shifted Harry off him and stood them both up. "Down on knees before your Lord, Potter."

Harry knelt and looked up at Voldemort, then he leaned forward and took him into his mouth.


"I'm not sure about this, Voldemort." Harry said as he dressed himself in a pale blue Louis Vuitton wool suit with a lighter blue shirt and dark blue silk tie. He adjusted his matching pocket silk and ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back. "It's too soon." He turned to face Voldemort who was staring at him with a look of shock on his face.

"Draco made me buy it!" Harry said defensively. "For Christmas. We were all going to meet up and... What's up?"

Voldemort blinked at the tall suave man standing before him and shook his head. How many faces had his Brat got? He wondered. He looked lean and hungry and powerful. The scar on his face along with the dark 'five o'clock shadow' around his jawline gave him a dangerous and exciting quality that was reflected in his eyes.

"If you don't want to go, Harry, then we shall not go. It is as simple as that."

Harry's eyes wandered over Voldemort's tight dress robe to stop at his hips. "I can think of much better things to do." He muttered.

"You are insatiable, Brat." Voldemort turned away from the dark eyes and picked up his cape. He fastened it around his neck as the Brat's arms slid around his waist and spicy cologne hit his senses. "You will not distract me. We either go to this dinner or we stay. It is your decision."

"Is it tradition? Do you always go to the Malfoy's for Christmas Dinner." Harry asked trying to nuzzle Voldemort's neck.

"Before my return yes. Since my return I have refused all invitations."

Something in the set of Voldemort's shoulders and his tone of voice stilled Harry. He stepped back and stared at the rigid frame. "Then we shall go." He said. "It will please Lucius. You and he are... close."

"We were once, yes." Voldemort strode from the room.

Harry followed more slowly deep in thought.

They arrived at Malfoy Manor by floo. Lucius and Narcissa bowed as they entered the drawing room and the others stood, bowing low to Voldemort. Harry was relieved to see that the baby was not present. He had very mixed feelings about being here. He thought if Draco could see him now he would roll about with laughter as he was introduced to Rodolphus Lestrange. Draco had never liked him. Snape was coming forward, Bella was bouncing up to him with a wide grin as if relieved to see him only to be stopped and pulled back by Rodolphus. She wasn't wearing her 'shiny' Pendant. Harry frowned. He would have sworn there was no way she would have taken that off.

And then a hushed silence fell as Narcissa leaned forward and kissed Voldemort on both cheeks. "I have your favourite malt whiskey, Marvolo, it has been waiting for you these long years."

All eyes were on Voldemort in varying degrees of trepidation. He didn't bat an eyelid. He removed his cloak and handed it to a hovering house elf. He smiled at Narcissa. "I expected nothing less, Narcissa. A happy Yule to you all. Lucius, everything is well at the Ministry?"

The conversations started up again and Harry let out a silent breath.

Later they sat around a roaring fire full from the excellent food. During dinner Narcissa had began asking him questions about Hermione and Draco, and after the initial dropping of his stomach, Harry regaled them all with stories about the two that had her laughing and crying.

He now handed her the second part of what would have been Hermione's Christmas gift. It was a diamond Bracelet. As her initial shock wore off and she thanked him profusely, he handed Lucius the slim gold Rolex watch.

"Draco coveted it."

Lucius looked at it curiously. "It is very... elegant. I shall wear it for him. Thank you, Harry." He snapped it onto his wrist and held it up. "It is eight thirty. Time for drinks."

Harry now felt a lot more relaxed, due no doubt to Voldemort's malt whiskey as he sat next to him and sipped his drink thinking he may go down to the Monolith and pay his respects. He hadn't been there since the evening he had laid the roses...

"Lucius," Voldemort said. "I have something for you." He held out a long box engraved with snakes in green and silver.

Lucius raised a brow. "For me, my Lord. I..." He took the box and opened it. "M-my Lord! How?"

Voldemort sat back looking very smug. "Hard work and the Elder Wand."

Lucius took his formerly broken wand from the box and held it up. Silver sparks flew from its tip in an elegant display and his perfect hair lifted around his face.

"Marvolo," he said in astonishment. "This is unprecedented! It should be impossible!" He stood up laughing, swishing his wand about and levitating various objects, then transfiguring others.

Again, Voldemort didn't bat an eyelid at the use of his name. "The magicks involved are complicated, but not impossible. I am working on the Brat's now. It should not take too much longer."

Lucius was playing like a child. "Oh this is wonderful, just wonderful! Thank you, my friend, thank you!" He transfigured Narcissa's crystal into wood and she glared at him.

Harry looked at Voldemort and couldn't hide the disappointment he felt. He must have retrieved his broken wand from the wreckage of Dumbledore's office. But he didn't want his old wand back. He wanted to keep the Yew wand. "Oh. That's... thanks..."

"It will not replace the one you now own, Harry." Voldemort said laughing. "It offends me that its Brother is broken, that is all."

Harry sighed in relief.

Bella bounced in her seat her eyes shinning. "My Lord! Have you..."

Rodolphus Lestrange surreptitiously got hold of her arm and squeezed tightly. She had a short sleeved dress on and from where Harry was sitting he saw her flesh turning white where his fingers dug in. She stopped bouncing. Harry narrowed his eyes. She hadn't spoken very much at all this evening. The fingers were not letting up.

"Let go of your wife's arm, Mr Lestrange." Harry drawled, pointing his wand at him. The man froze looking at Voldemort. "Everyone has a voice, and if Bella wishes to speak to her Lord you will not stop her. Come here, Bella." The hand let her go of her and she looked up at him with scared eyes. "It's all right, come on." Harry said.

The others were all looking at him in surprise. Bella came and stood in front of him. He gently took her arm that was already bruising, turned it to Voldemort's inspection and then healed it. He stood up beside her and pointed his wand back at Rodolphus. "Accio Diamond". It flew from the man's pocket into Harry's hand. Harry hung it around Bella's neck and took her trembling hand in his.

"I gave this diamond to your wife. I did not give it to you. There is no way she would have taken it off today, for any reason unless she was forced to by someone she must be terrified of. She mentioned this morning that she had no jewellery, not that she had been allowed to keep anyway. You are correct in thinking it is worth a fortune. Is it worth your life?" Harry spat.

"My Lord." Rodolphus began, outraged. "Please... I..."

But Voldemort had the Elder Wand in his hand. 'Crucio!' He hissed furiously.

When the screams had died down Harry spoke in a voice of ice. "This is not the first time I have healed your wife. I'm a natural healer. It means that I go into the body and I see everything, unfortunately for you. The injuries you have given her over the years are the same type of injuries I myself have sustained from muggles. In other words from the use of fists. Very different from injuries caused by curses which leave a signature and a burn along the bone. When Nagini attacked her and I questioned her about being unhealed she said she was used to it. You have broken her ribs, and various other bones. More than once. The injuries were never treated. She wasn't allowed to ask Snape for help, was she?"

Snape flew to his feet. "You bastard." He hissed, pulling his wand. "I suspected, but the idiotic woman would never own to it! How dare you treat her thus!"

Harry sneered. "Draco was right about you. But then he was right about everyone. He disliked you intensely. I'm taking his aunt and mother down to the lake to pay my respects to him. I want the company. If I ever see you again, Lestrange, though from the look on Snape's face I doubt that I will. I'll kill you." He walked away across the room with Bella and Narcissa.

Lucius swished his wand gleefully. "Marvolo, is this up to firing an Avada Kedavra do you think?"

"Doubting my work Lucius? Try it and see for yourself."

The last thing Harry heard as he reached the front door was Lucius' miffed. "Severus! I wanted to do it! It's my house!" And... Voldemort's death voice making his toes curl and his skin flush hotly. "Save it for tomorrow, Lucius. You can take care of Rabastan. He would have known what Rodolphus was doing to Bella. Left unchecked he will seek vengeance for his brother. It is the way of things."

As they walked through the snow Bella sniffed. "I suppose I could come to like you. If you wanted me to."

"Knock yourself out." Harry said as he cast a warming charm over the three of them. "Doesn't mean I have to like you though."

Narcissa started to laugh and took his hand in hers.

"Look how it sparkles!" Bella held the diamond up to the moon. Then she danced off ahead of them like a mad sprite.