Whole shit batman, I'm updating. After three years. This is amazing.
WARNING: Extremely weird graphic sex. Snake play and other insane dark lord things.
(4/25): I have come back to the darkness
Harry sobbed silently for the child that had been Tom Riddle; evil, sadistic, vicious little Tom Riddle, but still a child. That anyone could be so cruel as to attempt to burn him alive in a cave made Harry bend just that little bit in sympathy towards the cold hardened soul of Voldemort. Harry understood what growing up in a place where no one loved you beyond your usefulness felt like. Harry also understood the dark urges to hurt those that hurt you.
Harry had used his magic defensively as a child; Tom Riddle had bent his to be a razor edged blade of destruction and malice.
Harry's thoughts sharpened to reality, as the pungent tingle of the hospital's cleaning charms kicking into effect and the vomit vanished leaving behind a faint aseptic whiff. The presence behind him swarmed back up into existence as he wiped the traces of sick off his mouth. The throbbing red link to Voldemort was now more prominent in his mind than ever; previously it had been buried deep in his consciousness away from day-to-day notice. Now it consumed him.
When Harry finally lifted himself off the edge of the bed and turned around, Riddle was reading and seemed to be ignoring him completely as though he didn't exist; Harry would have believed it too, if it hadn't been for the mixed emotions resonating through the bond twisting his own thoughts into even tighter knots.
With out a word, the Dark Lord handed Harry a glass of water sitting on the bed stand and continued to read as though nothing had happened. Harry wondered if Voldemort had seen what he was dreaming.
Gratefully the green-eyed boy gulped down the cold liquid and set the glass down before turning back to his doppelgänger, deciding not to mention his dream.
"Any luck?" Harry quietly asked, settling back against the pillows to look over the other boy's shoulder. A barely audible sigh escaped Voldemort's lips. Diagrams were sketched out on a sheet of parchment with tiny cramped runes that kept chasing each other around the paper in jagged savage motions. Voldemort stabbed at one of the groups with his quill that was getting particularly violent and smearing ink around the page.
"We're the only case where something like this has ever occurred, and none of this rubbish is any good. I need the books back at the base in my personal library." Harry shifted closer to his body-twin to ease a bit of the itching from the bond that seemed to be acting up with Voldemort's irritation.
In what seemed like an almost subconscious move, Riddle wove his fingers though Harry's mop at the back of his neck, twisting the thick mess between identical fingers. It slid through his fingers like spider silk, and Harry knew he should be disgusted by the touch, but it took the edge off the bond, and just fell right.
"But is it possible? Do you think that we could separate this bond… thingy?" Red eyes gave him a rather condescending glance for his ineloquent grammar.
"This 'bond-thingy' is very complex and unknown; from what I can conjecture, my soul shard had almost completely integrated with your own soul over the course of your life. However, still being a part of my soul, it never stopped trying to re-connect to with me. Hence our previous weak bond." The hand that had been twisting Harry's mop slipped up the side of his face and brushed against his scar once more.
"When the curse rebound again and ripped my soul out of my body, the shard was the closest thing with a physical body and it was drawn instantly towards it with such force that-" A couple of the runes on the page collided in a cataclysmic explosion of ink and then reformed, tugging at each other, but unable to pull their entwined bits apart. "Our souls are so blended together at this point that I have a difficult time seeing and end and a beginning to them. In fact, it's almost completely seamless. I don't see them coming apart any time soon."
Harry was so entranced by the movement of Riddle's hand that he barely heard the last bit of his statement.
"Ah." Harry attempted to articulate, as Voldemort's fingers tugged sharply on his earlobe. Amusement thrummed through his brain, and sly crimson eyes slid his direction. The tug on his earlobe came again, this time a bit sharper. Harry gasped unbidden, and nails scored down the side of his throat.
"See for yourssselfff…" Voldemort whispered, voice slipping into parseltongue at the end. Harry felt a nudge against his mind, and the crimson overlaid his vision for a second, before suddenly a strange duplicity clouded his senses, and it was the absolute most bizarre thing he had ever felt; suddenly he could see himself, glazed green eyes, glasses and cursed scar. He'd gotten so use to the crimson snake eyes staring out of his face, that it was a bit shocking to see himself normally.
"Watch closely." And the eyes closed to half-mast, and suddenly motes of color swarmed into view, buzzing energetically in multi-colored wonder. He could see the magic currents and how they flowed around each other, swirling around physical objects like water around rocks. Hogwarts literally breathed magic.
Riddle glanced down at their tightly pressed together forms, and Harry could feel his face flush a bit at just how close they were.
At first he could see nothing, and then suddenly he realized that it was just too intense for his eyes to comprehend, because when Riddle narrowed his eyes even more, the intensely wicked colors overwhelmed their sight.
Voldemort's jagged red aura curved brilliantly across their laps, sharp offensive points that focused to razor tipped blades and then bent like spider legs and slithered back under the main bubble of magic. Harry's magic was an electric green that cackled tightly under and through the layer of red, defending them while the red stood guard. The emerald curled protectively across their skin, so tightly that it seemed their very flesh glowed from the inside. Both colors meshed together seamlessly, creating a dangerous and beautiful aura.
It made Harry feel extremely turned on. At least Harry thought it did, it might be the echoing arousal from the Dark Lord. The thought broke the shared vision, and brought Harry back to the present.
"My little serpent," Voldemort whispered in parseltongue, words slipping through his teeth like cold wind on a stormy night, "What are you thinking about that has you so warm and your eyes so dilated?" A fingernail traced the edge of his eye, skimming carefully over the glossy white part off the globe. And all Harry could see was the way that tongue wrapped sensuously around his teeth, perhaps a bit sharper than his own. Riddle's other hand traced up his arm, digging vicious red marks into the pale transparent skin. Harry was pulled into Voldemort's lap like a limp ragdoll, secured against his darker twin's chest.
One arm gripped him under his chin, yanking his head back and exposing his delicate throat to the red-eyed creature above him, the other hand still dangerously close to his eye.
Cold breath ghosted across the column of his throat, so cold that it frosted a light layer of crystals down the skin. Harry whimpered, and grabbed the twisted blanket beneath him, clawing at it with blunt fingers.
"Oh how I wanted you, just like this, mewling for my touch, crying out in pain for release, begging me for more." The finger in his eye increased its pressure. "I could rip this from your skull and you would be powerless to stop me. I would crush the sweet juices from it and taste your essence." Harry panted, gasping for breath. The red beacon in his mind once again consumed his vision, tinting the room a bloody red, until all he could see was crimson. "And you would beg me for more, because you are me, and I am you. We are one being, our souls sewn together for eternity, and eternity it will be, as I don't plan on letting you off that easily. You are Mine." The last bit sizzled against his ear, freezing the tiny hairs and chilling his eardrum. Harry shivered uncontrollably, and the chattering of the insects he had heard in his dream began to chew at the edges of his hearing. The ghostly touch of serpents slid up his thighs like many scaled fingers, twisting against his skin and under it.
Black fear twisted his mind, a cold icy infection that slinked through his veins. His body recognized the magic as his own, however, and didn't repel it. Harry accepted it and drew it in like he was starving for it. Starving for someone to surrender to, someone to own him. Someone to take away the responsibility of being Harry Potter.
The serpents became heavier and more substantial against his skin, their thick bellies coiling against his hands and thighs. Voldemort's tongue and agile hands joined them, slipping easily under the flimsy hospital gown. Sliding against his flesh, pressing here, pinching there, and dipping into his belly button. Harry's chest heaved and he squirmed as the metaphysical snakes twisted their way closer, between his legs. They slid over his boxers at first, joining their master's hands on his hollowed out stomach.
Pleasure twisted through his body, and he twined himself as tightly around Voldemort as he possibly could, asking for something he didn't know how to ask for. A rumbling chuckle vibrated against his back, and a thick length pulsed against his backside, identical to the length that was hardening against Harry's own will.
The serpents danced around the edges of everywhere he didn't and did want them to be. They twisted in between the two, inching their way down between Harry's cheeks. The boy gasped, arching off of his captor, but barely enough to provide any escape, as he was wound so tightly around Voldemort that it was impossible. Flat noses nudged at his crack, his ears, his lips.
"Please…" Harry whimpered in parseltongue.
"What do you need my little one?" The undulating rhythm of serpent scales seemed to pause against his flushed skin, waiting for a response.
"I need you, please Tom!" A sadistic smile split Voldemort's lips, baring dangerous glinting teeth. A wave of power drew the snakes back into motion, flat noses nudging against his openings, small tongues flickering against his flesh.
Continued: mutterkuchen . livejournal . com / 6300 . html
As they both lay on the bed, sweating and panting, still curled together like the snakes that had filled Harry, the serpents dissipated into Harry's blood stream, returning to their shared magical core.
Harry felt suddenly deflated and empty, like he was missing something vital. Shivering, he squirmed as close to Voldemort as possible, trying to get some of the warm magical feeling back.
Voldemort ran hands down his stomach and thighs, chuckling once more. Harry knew at this point that those hands had to be longer and thinner than his own. Voldemort's body was already adapting to fit him better physically.
Harry twisted to look into burning red eyes, hooded and dark with lust. Riddle's pupils were dilated to the point of almost being round, and his face was flushed with exertion. Harry slid his fingers through a mop of hair that was a bit wavier than his own, the strands settling back into place almost neatly.
He could hear the word echo through their bond, and Harry had never known anything to be truer. The scores and scratches that marked his body said nothing less. Fingerprints blossomed across his skin, red now, but darkening quickly. Harry was sure he could feel a perfect set of teeth marks pressed into his throat, displaying to the world what he already knew.
He was stuck with Tom Riddle for bad, ugly, and the worst.