-1Give Me A Reason

"Even in death, our love will go on…" The Dark Lord smiled down at him, his crimson eyes gleaming. He reached down and cupped Harry's face in his hands.

He looked up at him, his knees digging into the soft brown earth. Voldemort's caress sent a shudder through him and he sighed. "Yes," he whispered, ignoring the cold wind that blew through the graveyard. "My Lord…"

The Dark Lord ran his fingers through his ebony hair and bent down to him.

His kiss was slow, lingering.

It wasn't love. It wasn't even like. It was some cruel mixture of hate, lust, and understanding. He wrapped his arms around Voldemort's waist and kissed him back as hard as he could, moaning, willing the other man to comprehend the swirling emotions inside of him. He was betraying the Order, Dumbledore, Sirius…himself.

He must be crazy, as he clutches at another man, a monster, as he lets waves of pleasure wash over him.

The mark on his arm stings as Voldemort's hand brushes it, extracting himself smoothly from his grasp. "Patience," he hisses with a smug smile.

God, how he wants to just fuck him, kill him, wipe that smile off his snake face…

"But you won't, Harry, will you…" The Dark Lord smirks. "At least, not that last bit."

He grits his teeth, wishing he was wrong. But he wasn't. He licks his lips nervously. He cannot deny Voldemort's terrible beauty, or what it does to him. He cannot deny the strange erotic charge between them, or what it means. He cannot deny that he is a traitor, and that he will probably die for it.

He cannot deny that he doesn't care, that all he wants now is for the Dark Lord to touch him again, even if that touch will hurt him.

"Come," Voldemort whispers, sensing him, holding out his arms. He could turn now, walk away, curse him…

Or he could accept the invitation, and the pleasures it will bring.

Not much of a choice, really.

The Dark Lord's embrace is cold, his skin his cold, but he doesn't care.

He tastes strange, like death.

He moans as Voldemort's teeth nip at his neck.

He bites his lip to keep from crying out, or worse, begging.

He will not beg, no matter what.

They kiss, and he drags his fingernails down The Dark Lord's back.

"Harder," he gasps.

Voldemort ignores this, looking smug as ever. He does not follow orders.

Harry moans, feeling as if every cell of his being is on fire. He bites his lip so hard he can taste blood.

The older man smiles and runs his tongue over the little red droplets. "Say please."

The Boy Who Lived shakes his head. He will not beg.

The Dark Lord holds his arms down, nails digging painfully in soft flesh, staring at him. "Say it."


"Say it."

He cannot hold out any longer. "Please," he gasps out.

He hates himself, just as he hates the man on top of him, inside him.

But this does not stop him from screaming his name as the Dark Lord finally complies with his wishes.

He wonders if the Order will find out, and what they will do.

He wishes that he wasn't Harry Potter, that he was someone else.

He cannot remember when the dreams first started, but he blames them for his feelings and betrayal. He would sleep, and then he would come, and touch him, kiss him, and he would cry out, wanton, flushed; and then he would be awake, exhausted and unsatisfied.

He reflects on this, naked under his black silk robe, lounging in the bed they shared. He is tired, but pleasantly so; his limbs feel like jelly and his eyes are hooded sleepily. The Dark Lord is gone, but he will return; Harry waits for him with excitement and fear.

He wants to be touched again, he wants Voldemort to be rough with him, hurt him, punish him.

He deserves to be punished.

He feels fingernails graze his cheek and his emerald eyes meet crimson.

Voldemort's lips touch his and he shivers. "Harry…"

He hates it when he says his name.

The Dark Lord brings his mouth to his ear, and whispers. "Concerning the Order…"

Harry shudders and runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling the older man's cold breath on his cheek. He remains motionless as Voldemort's words wash over him.

"You will return to them…"

He starts, moves away, heart pounding. "What?"

The man smiles gently, indulgently. "You will return to them, my child. They will be missing you." He runs his hand across Harry's face, caresses neck.

Harry swallows and shakes his head. "No, I can't…"

A thumb traces his lips lazily. "You will do as I say." There is a dangerous undercurrent to his words, and Harry sighs breathlessly.

He feels defeat creep over him and he buries himself into Voldemort's robes. "Do I have to?"

He winces at how needy he sounds, how young. He is almost seventeen; he shouldn't sound like a lost five year old.

He feels the Dark Lord's chest rumble as he chuckles. Words aren't necessary. He sniffs, inhale's Voldemort's strange, cool scent, wraps his arms around his waist.

"When do I leave?"

Their intimacy appalls him, but he cannot keep away.

It is strange to be back, even stranger that they believe his story. Sirius is just relieved he is back, and everyone else is angry that he left, but to happy he's safe to be harsh.

He wonders if Dumbledore suspects something, but he is confident that no one in their right mind would suspect the truth.

He feels Snape's eyes on him, and feels his suspicion. He catches a glimpse and smiles at him widely, and the older man hastily looks away.

Harry wonders if he is crazy, if he is mad.

He can still feel Voldemort's caress, his long fingers on his lips. He suddenly hates his friends, and wishes they would leave. They are wrong, they don't understand.

He can see the Dark Lord's shadow behind him, feel the moonlight on his back.

He wants to go to sleep, so he may dream.

He does not want the food Mrs. Weasley offers with a kind smile, does not want Sirius to lean toward him and pat him on the back, does not want to be in anyone's presence but his own.

His glasses are gone, and he does not feel Snape's discomfort at his blazing emerald eyes.

He is tall; he can look Sirius in the eye.

He does not know how beautiful he is, or how he has changed.

All he knows is that he is a traitor, and that he does not care.

End Chapter.

A/N- What do you think? Sorry about the short length. If more chapters are written, they will be longer, promise. Please Review!