Author: Silverhair Theory
Disclaimer: I nothing. JKRowling owns everything. If you prosecute me all you're likely to get is my sweet stash and my teddy bear, so I wouldn't advise it.
Author's Notes: Yes! It's here! FINALLY!!! I took a long time again though... slaps self oh well, I did it. Thankyou so so so much, I cannot say enough thankyous to all the dedicated people who reviewed, it kept me feeling guilty about this until I simply couldn't help but write this for you. Also, I apologise for the shortness, but it seemed to have reached its natural end so I thought I'd better stop poking it anymore.
Warning - MORE SMUT! Yes, thats lemony goodness, so all ye fair or faint of heart, go away or deal with it.
There was silence for a few seconds in the circle of Death Eaters. Most eyes were fixed upon the shape of the Dark Lord, some flicking between the boy-who-lived...or was it? On the ground. The boy and the Dark Lord himself were locked eye-to-eye, and there was a sense on uncomfortable shuffling as the Death Eaters felt the aura between them, felt the sense of intrusion, like they were seeing something which should have been kept strictly private.
"My...my Lord...?" Wormtail said, hesitantly, biting his lip.
"Silence!" The word was hissed, not in parseltongue but in a low, dangerous tone. And the most frightening thing for the Death Eaters was that it had not come from the tall, black robed figure with his wand still out in front of him. It had instead been issued from the mouth of the sprawled, naked boy on the ground, but with all the power and authority of the Dark Lord himself.
"How...how is this possible?" The Dark Lord said, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. The few Death Eaters who weren't fixated on the two figures faces were shocked to see that the hand protruding from the robe was shaking. Actually shaking, as if their Lord was scared or filled with emotion. Two things that never happened to the Dark Lord.
"You can't kill your own Horcrux. You should know that, Tom." The boy's voice was harsh, cracked like a mirror, and hoarse as if he had been screaming or yelling. A small, wry smile graced his features and the Dark Lord drew back from the sight.
"No. It's not possible!" He spat at the figure on the ground.
"Deny it all you want. It's true." He sounded not exactly unhappy, but not happy either. More...resigned. The Dark Lord drew himself back, a look of horror mixed with hope on his face and turned away from the crumpled heap.
"Avery, Nott, take this... person to my private quarters immediately. The rest of you... be ready for a meeting in one hour." He looked around, seeing that they were all still standing dumbly. "I believe I issued you with some orders?" His voice was as slippery as ice and twice as cold.
The Death Eaters began apparating, each sounding a crack as they disappeared, until the only ones left were Harry, Voldemort and the dark figures of Avery and Nott. At Voldemort's signal they came forward and lifted Harry up, one on each side of him. He didn't struggle or fight them, just let himself be lifted and never took his gaze from Voldemort's.
There was another loud crack as they apparated and Voldemort was left on his own, staring up at the deserted castle behind them, on a battlefield strewn with bodies of both sides, blood, ashes and weapons. Soon the villagers from Hogsmeade would be here, to salvage what was useable and to collect the dead. Taking one last look at the desecrated place, Voldemort apparated away and the field was left, blackened and cold, strewn with corpses.
Harry was very cold. Avery and Nott had apparated him to just outside a pair of huge, black wood doors, assumedly the entrance to Voldemort's quarters. He was still naked and the stone floor underneath his feet was very cold. Nott waved his wand at the doors and as they swung open silently, they both pulled Harry through.
He could feel the tension in their fingers; feel them gingerly pulling him, unsure of how much force to use. They both knew, as all the Death Eaters did, that until a few moments ago he had been Harry Potter, arch nemesis of Voldemort and the biggest threat since Dumbledore died. He could darkly imagine what they must be feeling now. Confusion, most of all, then fear and panic. He was an unknown, evidently something had stopped the killing curse from affecting him, and the few who knew about Horcruxes and were intelligent enough to decipher their cryptic banter were probably speculating fearfully on what he had that made him good enough to be the Dark Lord's Horcrux.
Shaking his head, he banished his thoughts and looked around him. The rooms he was being half-escorted, half-dragged through were decorated in typical slytherin colours, a lot of green, silver and black. The spaces were meticulously tidy, and Harry grinned wryly to himself at the thought that Tom hadn't changed in fifty years.
He was pushed through one final set of doors and they slammed behind him, he was left standing in pitch blackness. With no wand, he had no way of illuminating his surroundings so he carefully stepped forward, feeling ahead for something to re-orientate himself with. His knees hit something soft and he fell forwards, landing on cold material and feeling it support his weight. Kneeling, he brushed his hand along the surface of the material, until he hit a wall. He gathered it was some sort of bed, and without too much effort he decided that it hadn't been slept in for some time.
The door swished open behind him and light again filled the room, making him squint round into the silhouette of the figure at the door, shivering as the breeze caused played across his bare skin, raising goose bumps. Voldemort stood there in all his menacing glory, red eyes swirling. He approached the bed and pulled Harry off of it, taking him into the room beyond and standing him in the centre of the room.
Harry unconsciously put his hands down to cover his nakedness, this figure before him was so very different from the Tom he had left by the lake an hour ago. Something in Voldemort's serpentine features hardened at the action, and when he spoke it was a voice that sounded forced, as if he was having to make himself say the words.
"It's been a very long time, Har... Harry." Harry looked into red eyes and shook his head.
"Not for me."
The light in Voldemort's eyes went far away, and Harry could tell he was remembering that day, every detail of the way he had vanished so unexpectedly. "I was angry. Angry you had left me. Angry you had been taken away from me. Furious. I vowed revenge." Harry stayed silent, gazing at the man who, once upon a time, he had loved with all his heart. "You went back in time to kill me, didn't you." It was a statement, not a question, and Harry nodded slowly. Voldemort was no longer looking at him, staring instead behind him, away into the distance.
Inside Harry there were two different people battling it out, the part which had never truly left this time, that had kept reminding him while he had been in the past that it was just that, the past, was marvelling that the vicious, cruel thing they knew as Voldemort was so evidently affected by emotion. Then the other part, the one that had fallen in love with Tom Riddle a long, long time ago was crying out to the other man's soul, trying to find in the creature before them what had made them fall in love so long ago.
"You know... everything I ever did was for you. I was so intent on getting revenge for you, I turned into the very thing I swore to destroy." Red eyes moved to meet green. "I never stopped loving you."
Suddenly Voldemort was embracing him and Harry felt his body flinch back, part of him frantically trying to extricate himself from the Dark Lord's grasp and the other half pushing desperately for him to hug back, to show he wasn't rejecting the embrace.
"Tom..." He used the word hesitantly, it felt almost wrong to use it of the creature before him, but there was that voice crying in the back of his mind that somewhere inside the man in front of him was the boy he had fallen in love with, buried under years of isolation, pain and thirst for revenge. Revenge for him. "Your skin is cold." He said, and felt the man stiffen, pulling away.
Sorrow looked out of red eyes at him. "What do we do, Hart? I cannot accept you as Harry and you cannot accept me as Voldemort, yet that is who we are. I cannot kill you as Harry because I know you were once my Hart and you cannot kill me as Voldemort because I was once your Tom."
Harry looked at the floor. "I feel... I feel like there are two people inside of me, Tom. Hart and Harry. Harry is telling me that I must kill you, that you are evil, that you killed Ron and Hermione and everyone I ever knew and loved. That you are a monster and I am a monster for loving you. But Hart is crying out for me to give you a chance, to let you show the person that Hart fell in love with fifty years ago. That you did all those things for me, even if you didn't know it, and that you are still the one I should be in love with. The one I am in love with."
Voldemort sighed and turned, walking away, beckoning for Harry to follow. They entered a room which had a low ceiling but was covered wall to wall in drapes, mostly green. There was a bed there, large and covered in warm blankets, but it was so pristinely made that Harry doubted Voldemort had slept in it in a very long while. "You don't sleep?" He commented.
Voldemort shook his head. "No. I meditate to regain energy, I have done ever since I went through the rebirth process. This body doesn't need sleep. It can be persuaded to, but the dreams it produces are enough to prevent me trying it more than once."
"So... you haven't slept in three years?" Harry's mind was spinning at the thought.
"Not three. Nearly seventeen. I haven't properly slept since the night my spell failed to kill you the first time. Spirits don't sleep and after I regained form, I didn't need to." There was a slight shaking in Voldemort's shoulders that both amazed and unnerved Harry. "It's been such a long time. And it's all... it's all my fault!" The last bit came out in a rush and Voldemort turned back to Harry, their eyes meeting again. It seemed so wrong, so unreal to see pain in those eyes, that Harry had known to be filled with anger and cruelty in every previous memory.
Harry suddenly realised, with a shock like a wave of cold water, exactly what Tom had been through. The pain, the loss, the absolute horror that came with knowing that you were the one to cause untold pain to yourself, over a span of fifty years. That you were the one to put your only love into such a state that caused nightmares and agony of the mind and body.
That you had very nearly destroyed the only thing you ever cared about.
Sinking to the floor, Harry put his head in his hands. "I...I hated you so much, Tom. I hated you with my whole being, and then I went back in time to kill you in order to save everyone I'd ever loved and you were there. So different, so beautiful, so wonderful that I forgot what it had been like in my own time. I forgot my friends, I forgot my teachers, I forgot my family. I fell in love with you and denied to myself that it could ever end. I tried not to think about it, because there was no way to tell you that you would have understood."
He could feel Voldemort over him, fingers nearly, nearly touching him but keeping back, keeping away from what he knew they wanted so badly.
Opening his eyes, he looked upwards and stood up, pressing his mouth to the cold lips of the man above him, pushing away all his doubts in one spontaneous and desperate movement.
For a few seconds, they hung there, staring into each others eyes, closer than a breath, and something clicked inside them.
Voldemort threw his arms around the smaller form, pulling him tight so they were touching the whole way down. One arm secured itself around Harry's lower back, the older trailed lower, to the base of Harry's spine. He gripped the boy tightly and was rewarded with a gasp, which let him slip his tongue into Harry's willing mouth.
For Voldemort, it was like finding himself again, after fifty years of staggering around half blind he could finally, perfectly see. The weight of the boy in his arms was all that mattered and suddenly it didn't matter that this was Harry Potter, all he needed to know right now was that he had everything he had been fighting for right here in his arms.
For Harry, it was what he had needed. It was the final, perfect proof that the man in front of him, holding him, was the man he had indeed fallen in love with. It didn't matter that he was technically Voldemort, he recognised the sensations shooting through him and he clung tighter in silent thanks for the feelings that for a short time he had been afraid he had lost.
Wordlessly, Voldemort laid Harry out on the bed, extricating clutching fingers from the hem of his robe as he pulled away, only to return a moment later, devoid of the obstructing material. Harry had his eyes closed, but Voldemort brushed the side of his face lightly, before speaking in a low voice. "Harry, open your eyes. If you really want to do this, I have to know you are okay with me being this way. In this body." He stared down as Harry slowly opened his eyes, an expression of apprehension on his face.
Harry gazed down at the form that hovered over him. The skin was deathly white, like a corpse, the eyes were red like blood and the face was flat and snakelike. Everything as he remembered. However, now that he really looked closely, he could compare it to something else he had seen not too long ago, a couple of days at the most. The white skin was a similar colour to the way it had been on the night of the Winter Dance and now that Harry thought about it he found it looked just as smooth and beautiful as it had before. The eyes which were indeed the colour of fresh blood held emotion, sadness and loneliness and the faint light of hope. The face which reminded him so much of a snake was creased in sorrow, as Harry looked over the body which Voldemort now had to inhabit.
Looking up, he met the blood red eyes and said quietly, reverently and completed truthfully, "Tom...You're beautiful."
The relief and joy that the comment sparked turn the blood into rubies, and Voldemort smiled slightly. "Now then." He said, his voice becoming a low hiss. "Where were we?"
Harry grinned and reached up to pull the man down into a kiss that was long overdue. Having solved the issue with names and bodies, they began to explore each other's forms with their mouths. For Harry it was to sense the changes in his lover's form from what he had been fifty years ago. For Voldemort, it was a reaffirmation of the fact that he had his love back, an indulgence in what he had been denied for so very long.
When they were both panting with desire and sheathed in sweat, Voldemort pulled Harry's legs up, intending to prepare him, but was surprised when Harry pulled away, pushing Voldemort back and straddling him so that their cocks rubbed together, causing them both to moan. Voldemort pushed himself up with his hands but stopped and stared when he saw what Harry was doing.
Harry had raised himself slightly up, one hand on the white chest, so that his cock brushed Voldemort's teasingly. The height gave Voldemort a perfect view of Harry slipping one finger inside himself, slowly and carefully, wincing slightly at the awkward angle and the pain of intrusion. Moving it in and out a couple of times, he then inserted a second finger and began thrusting that in and out too. Harry had his eyes tightly closed, his mouth was open and he was panting, head tipped back exposing a slender neck glistening with perspiration. Unable to take his eyes off of the delicious sight, Voldemort fought to keep control of his body and not jerk himself closer to the enticing teen as his cock longed to.
Harry had now slipped a third finger into that tight heat and by the expression on his face was really feeling the pain now. Voldemort saw the hand flex as the fingers inside curled and recurled. Suddenly, Harry jerked and his arm gave out, landing him on Voldemort's chest and pushing their cocks together roughly. Voldemort moaned again and Harry whined, his eyes going back in his head as the combined pleasure from his cock and his sweet spot washed over him. Curling his fingers again, he gave another jerk and rubbed their two straining cocks across each other, earning another pair of moans.
Striking forward, Voldemort grabbed Harry's arm and pulled, extricating the fingers from the heat and causing Harry to keen with pain and loss. Voldemort made to flip Harry over but once again the teen took control, pushing himself up and guiding the tip of Voldemort's cock to his entrance, sitting down at such an angle that the head pushed hard against his prostate. He moaned and leaned forward, capturing the lips of the stunned Dark Lord.
Voldemort felt the smaller tongue teasing his own, the hot body above him and above all the tight, hot, sinfully good pressure around his cock. Allowing Harry to push him backwards, his hands travelled up slim legs, brushing his thumbs over Harry's thighs and earning him a shiver which sent delightful vibrations through his cock. Taking hold of Harry's hips, they worked together to bring him up, completely off Voldemort's cock before encasing it completely again. Harry broke the kiss to cry out, the pain had been more than the pleasure that time, and began working his way up and down as he found the spot which made him see stars again.
One of Voldemort's hands shifted from Harry's hip, leaving finger marks in its wake, to wrap around the teen's weeping cock, working it so Harry lost it in a keen which had him collapsing on Voldemort's chest, exhausted. Voldemort roughly flipped them both over and began pounding into Harry forcefully, coming harder than he had since that night when he had taken Hart under the moon on the night of the Winter Dance. He collapsed too, bringing their come-spattered stomachs together and causing his hot breath to play across Harry's neck, making him shiver.
Pulling out, he lay beside the smaller form of his lover and pulled his body close, burying his face in the boy's long hair. They lay like that for a while, basking in the afterglow, as the heat from their coupling was cooled by the chill night air. Eventually, Harry shifted, turning to face Voldemort with half-lidded eyes and lips red from kissing.
"Don't... don't you have a Death Eater meeting soon?" His voice was low and slightly rough from his yells and Voldemort wanted nothing more than to cancel the meeting completely and just keep this lithe body next to him all night, to sleep and maybe not dream for once.
"Yes. I do..." The question had been a hard jolt back into reality, where there were responsibilities and politics and subordinates to be dealt with. "Harry..."
Harry put a hand to Voldemort's face. "Don't worry. I don't care. I don't care what you do, or what you did, I forgive you for that. I know that everything you ever did, however terrible, was for me. I know that that doesn't excuse it, but what can I do? I love you, and you love me, and everything else must be water under the broken bridge, okay?"
The Dark Lord smiled and kissed Harry, long and slow and sweet, pulling away to see Harry flushed and breathing slightly heavier than usual. He smiled.
"I know." He said, Pulling Harry close to him once more and feeling the teen bury his face in his own pale neck. "I know you have forgiven me, and for that I am glad. There will be questions, and complications, about the past and the future, but they don't matter now."
And there would be questions, and complications, about what had happened and what would happen, but as the two entwined figures shared a last few moments of complete peace, there was the feeling that somehow, it didn't matter.
Nothing mattered but the two of them, and until the outside world came calling, nothing ever would.
Author's Notes: YES! It's doooooonnnee! I can now actually go and click the little thing which turns this story into "complete"! Joy! It may have taken a while but I am extremely sorry and very grateful for all you people who reviewed and kept it on my mind. First Harry and Voldy went off on an angst spiral, then when I finally managed to break them out of it they enter into a fluff fest! I hope the Lemon was worth waiting for though, and that I don't get my account revoked for it... . Now, I know quite are few people are going to be left with questions about various things, such as whatever happened to Vlad. Do not worry! I didn't forget about him, in fact he plays a rather major part in the sequel to this story which is as yet unwritten, though not unplanned. Look out for "Gift of a Second Life" at a future date!
Thankyou so much again to all the people who have brought me this far, and I would greatly appriciate any last words, even just a couple of lines saying that you liked it. Reviews really are the food Author's eat and the air we breathe. So if you enjoyed it, tell me! Thankyou again, and fare thee all well!