Prompt: What if Harry hadn't died in the Forbidden Forest in the Battle for Hogwarts?
Warning: LVHP, NOT TRHP. This is going to be pure serpentine goodness. Will be rated M in later chapters. The first multi-chap fic I've written in years due to writing books, so bear with me. Writing someone else's characters after writing your own for so long is strange.
I don't own any of this stuff other than the 'plot', which I am sure has been done before. All characters belong to JK Rowling. What a Goddess.
Chapter 15: Fixing the Broken
He had offered to restore the boy's memories. Harry had refused. He didn't want to remember all the bad things in detail, especially not after what had happened. He and Voldemort were close again, and Harry wanted to keep it that way.
Things changed in Malfoy Manor. Lucius had complained about the relationship, and his rank amongst the Death Eaters had been dropped. Narcissa, as an avid supporter, had been promoted to Lucius' place, at the disgust of her husband.
Draco had been in a funny position. Voldemort still felt a tang of jealousy any time Harry spoke highly of him, but Harry had noticed and Voldemort had started to be nicer towards Draco. Having his brother as second in command and his mother as third helped. It wasn't long before Draco overtook his father. This caused many arguments between his parents, who eventually filed for a divorce.
To say he was better off due to Harry's presence was an understatement.
Harry sat in Voldemort's room, waiting for him to get back from a meeting. He had decided not to attend this one as they were discussing a peace treaty with the school, and he didn't want the other Death Eaters to think Voldemort was only doing it because Harry was there. Making it look like it had been Voldemort's own choice would most likely make his followers more loyal.
He spun round when he heard a knock at the door, and smiled as his partner floated gracefully into the room. It was weird to think they were official, and although only close family knew, Harry was all the happier for it. Harry moved up on the bed, lowering his book and the Dark Lord lay beside him.
"How did the meeting go?" Harry asked, not particularly interested. He already knew the answer.
"Well. They weren't happy, but they know better than to say no to me."
"If I say no to you, you sulk. It's not that scary."
Voldemort turned to Harry and smiled wickedly, suddenly grabbing the boy's chin in his hand.
"But would you really want to say no to me?"
Harry rolled his eyes and looked away.
"I'm not interested." He sighed. He was interested, but he wanted to see how far he could push the older man. And it was working. Voldemort was visibly annoyed, but Harry wasn't happy yet.
"I don't think you're telling the truth. I can read your thoughts, remember?" He grinned, hoping to get a rise out of Harry. The opposite happened when Harry rolled his eyes and thought loudly to himself.
'Is he really that desperate?'
By this point, Voldemort was seething. He had worked himself up and was being denied, but he knew better than to force it, lest he be met with the wrath of Narcissa Malfoy.
Instead, he sat in silence and sulked as Harry read. Harry had to hide his grin behind the book as he continued to read for a good five minutes.
Finally, he gave in. He dropped the book and climbed on to the Dark Lord's lap, leaning forward and kissing him passionately. Voldemort seemed surprised at the sudden action, but definitely wasn't complaining at that point. Clothes started disappearing with not a word between the two, only a sly glance or gesture to suggest where they were going next.
Voldemort trailed his hands down Harry's slender frame, suddenly struck with the idea that this was actually happing, he was finally being allowed to do this, and realised just how lanky and fragile Harry looked. He was pale anyway, but Voldemort suddenly became afraid of breaking him. Harry saw his concern and stroked the side of his face tenderly.
"It's okay." He whispered. "I'll be fine."
Harry slid down Voldemort's body, and there was a sudden wave of pleasure. Voldemort threw his head back and shut his eyes. Harry was rather good with his mouth. Voldemort admittedly didn't have much to base that assumption off of, but the good feeling racking his body told him that Harry was indeed, very talented.
Harry was enjoying it much more than he had expected to. Having a resurrected snake-man for a boyfriend doesn't make for a typical relationship, but Harry was seeing past that. At this point, the Dark Lord had been reduced to a moaning, shivering wreck, and Harry liked the loss of power. He dug his nails into the Dark Lord's sides and pulled down, resulting in a louder moan.
With so many years of pain, Harry wanted him to start enjoying it, even if it was just a little.
Harry pulled himself back up and his hand went to the bedside cabinet. Voldemort looked at him worriedly, eyes still clouded over slightly.
"Are you sure this is what you want, Harry? If you would rather wait…"
"Excuse you." Harry started. "I just gave you what you wanted. It's only fair you return the favour."
Voldemort took the bottle of lube from the boy, chuckling.
It felt better than anything ever had in his life, Harry had his nails dug into the Dark Lord's chest, riding him at a steady pace. The breathing in the room was heavy, and Voldemort would let out a groan ever so often that made Harry go faster. Voldemort stroked Harry as he moved up and down, and the two of them struggled to keep their eyes open, staring straight at each other when they could. The feeling was far too good.
"Harry…" Voldemort groaned. Harry bit his lip and nodded. He knew.
A few more thrusts and Voldemort gasped, letting go of Harry as his body was flooded with ecstasy. Harry finished himself off, and finished over the Dark Lord's chest.
"Well…" Voldemort started. "That wasn't what I was expecting."
"Same here." Harry smiled, trying to catch his breath, grinning, his hair a mess, his skin sheened with sweat. Voldemort thought he looked divine. "But it was good."
The two of them fell asleep next to each other. The next day, Harry met with Draco, and the two of them were going to go for a walk, when Draco pointed something out.
"What's that bruise on your neck?"
At the base of Harry's neck was a huge purple mark. Harry looked in a mirror and blushed violently as he noticed the tiny little teeth marks. He had forgotten about that.
"Draco, I can explain…" Harry tried, but it was too late. Draco had figured it out from the shade of Harry's face.
"How was it?"
"Tell me right now, Potter, or I'll tell Mother."
"Did it have scales on it?"
Thank you so much for sticking with this story! This chapter was the hardest to write, and I finally figured out why.
When I was younger, I found smut the easiest thing in the world to write. Now, I find it so much harder. I think the reason for this is that now I know what good, realistic sex is like, it's very difficult to put it in a way that isn't extremely crude or fake. Which is why I avoided a lot of things, like even talking about genitalia at all. I don't feel that I needed to.
If you didn't like that, and prefer the cruder style, I am afraid this is something I can no longer give. I see sex as such a beautiful thing now days that I can't describe it the way I used to. I apologise if that was a let down.
It's been such a pleasure to write this, and I hope the next fic you read is perfect for you!