Disclaimer: All hail J.K., the characters are hers alone. I'm just taking them out to play. They'll be back before curfew, promise.

Warning: Mature themes, slash, lemon, violence, blood, all mixed up with not much of an actual plot, shaken and stirred, crack pairing on top. Better not read it at all.

Author's Note: I haven't posted anything in a long time, so I started on something short before I figure out where exactly I was going with my longer story. As long as I'm back to torment humanity with amateurishly written fanfiction, all is well.

This is meant to be a kind-of-AU interlude set in the holidays between books 6 and 7, before the Order picks Harry up. I'm not sure about writing a sequel, since this doesn't muck up canon all that much as long as it stands alone, but maybe...

Anyway, I didn't have this beta-read and I'm not English myself, so sorry about any mistakes. Hell, even I didn't feel like reading over this crap for a second time before posting.

Hope you still enjoy, and I really wouldn't mind some constructive criticism.

BTW, please excuse the rant, but it's my 19th birthday today! I had originally decided to spend it all alone, seeing as my last one has lead to a gratis (or at least insurance-financed) vacation to the local nuthouse till Christmas, but I think I'm changing my mind and just go out and party, really.



It was already late in the evening, and the streets in Little Whinging were almost deserted, even Dudley Dursley and his gang had already gone home. Only one person was walking aimlessly through the dark streets, unwilling to go home yet, if home was even the right word to call Number 4, Privet Drive. In a dimly-lit side-street leading away from Magnolia Crescent, Harry Potter sat down on the pavement with his back against a garden wall and searched his the pockets of his coat for a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and started smoking, watching the smoke disappear with the breeze.

Suddenly he heard the telltale crack of apparition and turned his head around just to see Lord Voldemort standing right beside him.

"Good evening, Harry," Voldemort drawled casually.

In an instant, Harry was on his feet, dropping his cigarette and frantically trying to reach for his wand that he had in his pocket. Before he could, however, invisible bounds seemed to wrap around him, pinning him to the wall, and he found himself unable to speak make any other kind of noise. How could this have happened? He was supposed to be safe not only inside his relatives' house, but also around it while he was staying there.

"Calm down, child, you're perfectly safe. If I had my way, you wouldn't be, but alas, I cannot cause you harm. Should I do anything with a bad intetion toward you, it would only fall back on me. I can, however, come for a friendly visit at any given time. Theoretically, I'm also certain that I should be able to defend myself well enough if you should decide to try anything. So, if I release you now, will you promise not to attack me, run away or wake the entire neighborhood?"

Harry could only nod. He didn't have much of a choice, and he was fairly sure that the Dark Lord was telling the truth. If he had indeed been able to cause Harry harm, he could easily have done so by now.

With a wave of Voldemort's wand, Harry was freed.

"What the hell do you want from me?" he gasped.

Voldemort studied him with a curious look in his scarlet eyes. "Your ultimate demise, but for tonight, the pleasure of your company will have to do. I was feeling a little bored, and I figured that there was a chance that so might be you, which is why I thought that you might just be willing to assist me in a little... experiment. Only out of scientific interest, of course."

Harry frowned. "What are you talking about? What do you believe I'd want to help you with?"

Voldemort came even closer, making Harry feel quite on edge. "That fascinating connection you have with me. I experience your emotions, you experience mine. How do you imagine it would react if you and me were to, say... make love?" His tone turned derisive at the last words.

Before the meaning of these words had reached Harry's brain, the startled boy was pressed against the wall, a pair of cold, dry lips covering his own in a feather-light touch. Apart from pure shock, a sensation of excitement came over him, the kind that a child would feel when stealing cookies from the jar. A sensation that he wasn't certain was entirely his own.

Voldemort pulled back and Harry, getting over his initial shock, roughly pushed him away toward the middle of the street.

"Are you mad?" he sputtered as soon as he found his voice.

"Is that really new to you?" The Dark Lord didn't appear at all bothered by Harry's reaction. It definitely did not at all come unexpected. "Anyway, don't tell me this does not stir your curiosity at all, now that I've brought it up. I daresay I can tell that it does."

"But... but... we're enemies! We're supposed to kill each other! And I hate you, Have you forgotten that you killed my parents, you goddamn son-of-a-bitch?!" Thanks to his mother's protection, Harry was not putting himself into any danger by saying this, but he nevertheless flinched away when he saw a brief flicker of anger in Voldemort's eyes. Still, Harry couldn't deny that the... kiss... had left him exhilerated, fully alive. He had never before considered his nemesis that way, but indeed, now that the matter had been brought up...

He forced himself to breathe slowly in and out, to keep his chest from rising up and down uncontrollably.

"Isn't that what makes this so much fun in the first place, really? No one else ever has to know, this is just between you and me. We'll keep it our dirty little secret, as they say." Voldemort's cat-like eyes bore into Harry's, skimming over images that were, entirely independent of Harry's will, appearing on the surface of his mind in rapid succession.

Voldemort pulled out of Harry's mind, looking triumphant, a twisted smile on his face. "Not all that innocent at all, are we, Harry? So, the thought of me beneath you, under your control, that's what gets to you. You'd like to hurt me... torture me... I would never grant anything like this to anyone else, but I'm all yours tonight, to do with as you please... You really should be feeling honored, Harry..."

Harry could hardly think, his mind going numb as Voldemort took his hand and laced his own fingers into Harry's. His resolve was crumbling.

No one would ever have to know...

His hand reached forward almost on its own accord, tentatively running his shaking fingertips along the side of Voldemort's face, hardly surprised at how cold his skin felt, like that of a corpse. He was, however, surprised that he was more intrigued that repulsed by that.

Just a little experiment...

Knowing well that he had fully had Harry at this point, the Dark Lord steered him a few steps back, pressing him against the wall, never losing eye contact.


"So what," muttered Harry under his breath and pulled his enemy down for another kiss, this time actually participating, opening his mouth and letting Voldemort's tongue in. He had never noticed that it was forked. The kiss, slightly awkward at first, soon turned more forceful, tongues dancing in a heated battle fueled by mutual hatred, exploring every corner of the other's mouth. Harry's world tunneled around the thin body pressing flush against his own, erections grinding together. He couldn't tell anymore where he ended and where Voldemort began.

It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had never felt so in tune with anybody else, not even with Ginny...

Ginny... his beautiful, sweet Ginny... what was he doing, betraying her like this?

Voldemort pulled back and placed a tender kiss on the sensitive skin by Harry's ear, whispering, "Hush, don't worry, you're not hurting her unless you tell her."

Harry shivered involuntarily at the cold breath on his skin. They had already gone too far, broken too many unspoken rules. It was too late to stop.

He pushed himself away from the garden wall to have space to shrug his coat off and discard it carelessly upon the floor, relishing in the feeling of the cool summer breeze.

"I hate you," he spat, his voice dripping with disgust and contempt, and furiously crashed his mouth back onto the other wizard's, teeth colliding, biting through skin, coppery taste of cold blood on his tongue.

"Hate you, too, love," taunted Voldemort cruelly as he broke the kiss, a thin trail of blood running over his thin lips, just to grind his hips against Harry's harshly, jutting hipbones colliding painfully against each other, eliciting a strangled moan from the boy.

Composed as ever, he then drew his wand and made a few circular motions around them without letting go of Harry, who looked alarmed.

"What...?" he began.

"Muggle-Repelling Charm, or would you like to get caught? Additionally, I veiled the Trace on you. The ministry won't be informed of any magic you perform in the radius of this street for at least a few hours, unless you leave the place. Maybe this will make you feel a little better about being alone with me."

Clearly not expecting an answer, the Dark Lord tugged on Harry's belt, not bothering to rid him of the baggy black T-shirt he was still wearing. Having opened the boy's jeans, he slid them and the boxers underneath halfway down Harry's thighs.

When he felt cool air around his bare groin, Harry looked at him with big green eyes, like a deer caught in the headlight.

Avada Kedavra green eyes.

The dark wizard took in the dishevelled appearance of the savior of the light for a few seconds and then, apparently pleased with the sight before him, slowly lowered himself into a kneeling position.

Was he going to... ?

Yes. Merlin, yes, he was.

Harry had never before been so turned on, leaning against the hard brick wall, the great Lord Voldemort on his knees before him, steadying himself against the wall with his right hand, the spidery fingers of his left wrapped around Harry's cock. He looked up, curiously studying Harry's face one more time with a wicked gleam in his eyes and teasingly ran his long, forked tongue along the thick vein underneath before taking him halfway into his mouth that was much colder than the mild evening temperature. Harry inhaled sharply and couldn't stop a strong shiver from running through his entire body. He could feel Voldemort smirking smugly around his cock as he began to suck on it.

Harry tried his best to hold still, fidgeting around with his hands against the wall. He brushed one hand against Voldemort's, noticing with a rush of cold fear that he was still gripping his wand. The Dark Lord reacted by entangling his free fingers with Harry's and deep-throating him. That drew a long hiss from Harry's lips, and he dug his fingernails painfully deep into his enemy's hand. With his free hand, he reached out for the back Voldemort's head, holding him in place. His excitement grew further when the other wizard was forced to gag slightly, nevertheless making no attempt to pull away.

"When you... said... I could do... anything... to you..." he muttered huskily, releasing the pressure of his hand against the head. Voldemort let him slip out of his mouth and caught Harry's eyes again.

"I wasn't going to let you kill me or cripple me for life, so don't you even try, but other than that, yes, I meant anything," he said dryly.

"Mmm-hmmm..." Without warning, Harry shoved him backwards so that he landed hard on the pavement, Harry on top of him, wand in hand. "Crucio!"

The dark wizard's face contorted in pain, cat-like pupils dilated, breathing turning ragged, he had to bite his lip to keep himself from screaming. His body convulsed and thrashed against Harry, who was firmly pinning him down, finding that, while certainly being an extremely powerful wizard, the Dark Lord possessed hardly any physical strength. His scar was burning and he felt his opponent's agony almost as if it was his own, but it was dilated, clouded, as if seperated from himself by a thin veil.

Fascinated, he drank in the sight before him, Voldemort's unfocused eyes and frantic, uncontrolled movements, his body arching upwards as far as Harry's grip allowed.

"Beautiful..." he breathed and forced a long kiss onto the cold, lipless mouth, keeping his eyes open and glued to Voldemort's, who made several attempts to hold his gaze, succeeding only for fragments of a second before the pain overwhelmed him again.

Even though Harry could probably have gone on like this for hours, after a while he understood through the connection that he was pushing a limit. He lifted the curse and Voldemort ceased struggling at once, going limp like a puppet with its strings cut, absolutely exhausted and at the brink of unconsciousness. He was still shivering uncontrollably and his chest was heaving up and down and he was gasping irregularly for breath.

"Are you okay?" whispered Harry, now kneeling upright and tenderly cradling the man he hated so much to his chest, trying to soothe him. Right now, he couldn't help pitying this weak, emaciated creature shaking in his arms.

There was no answer, but Harry didn't need one to know he would be alright.

"Not too bad, Harry," said Voldemort casually once he had collected himself well enough. He leaned comfortably back into Harry's embrace. "I don't think I could have done that much better myself. It was an interesting experience, though. I was in pain, yet at the same time I felt just how much you enjoyed this. I shared your pleasure."

His words angered Harry, and the sympathy he had felt merely seconds before disappeared at once with the realization that this was not some helpless being, but a monster so feared that people refused to speak his name. "Fuck you."

"Actually, I would much prefer it if you were to do so." Thin arms snaked around Harry's neck and pulled him down for a surprisingly gentle kiss. Harry kissed back, carefully lowering Voldemort back onto the ground without breaking the kiss, before he pulled back and, with a flick of his wand, tore the other wizard's robes open.

He let his eyes wander over the fragile-looking body in front of him, pale, almost transparent skin stretched over bones, blue veins clearly shining through. He lingered at a long, deep scar running across the entire chest.

"Amelia Bones' work," Voldemort explained. "Too bad she refused to join me, I could use more Death Eaters with that kind of ability. Tore my lungs apart before I could kill her. The good thing is that I don't die that easily."

"Good thing indeed. I couldn't be happier about it," Harry said sarcastically, causing Voldemort to laugh and proceed to rip Harry's T-shirt apart the same way Harry had done with his robes. They got up and quickly discarded whatever clothing they still had on. Harry would have left his wand in his pocket, but seeing as his paranoid enemy seemed intent on keeping a constant hold on his own, he decided to do the same. Then Voldemort grabbed Harry by his hair and harshly pulled him back into his arms.

"You feel like a corpse, you know? Cold as ice," Harry remarked.

"So far, that does not seem to be turning you off at all."

They kissed again, forcefully, all traces of the prior gentleness gone. Voldemort raked his long nails across Harry's back hard enough to break skin and draw blood. Harry made a throaty sound that was stiffled by the kiss, and drew them even firmar together, so that his own erection stood in the space between Voldemort's thighs, while the taller wizard's was pressed against his stomach. He ran his hands up and down the other's back, feeling the empty spaces between each rib and imagining that he might accidently crush the frail dark wizard in his embrace. Then he moved on to suck and bite lightly at Voldemort's delicate neck and throat. The Dark Lord tilted his head back to give him better access, and Harry continued, until he suddenly bit down hard so that the paper-thin skin tore open. He licked the blood oozing from the wound off, but didn't swallow and instead put the wand-free hand on the back of Voldemort's head to guide him into another kiss so that he could taste his own blood in Harry's mouth.

Harry felt Voldemort's arousal heightening at this act and, for a reason he could not explain, gloated with pride on the inside that it was he himself who was the cause of it. He smiled against the mouth covering his and ground his lower body against the other man's seductively before roughly shoving him away, nearly making him fall.

"Bend over, my Lord," Harry ordered in a mocking tone. Voldemort glared at him, cold eyes demanding respect, and made an angry hissing noise, and yet, he obeyed. Haughtily turning away from Harry, he positioned himself on hands and knees on the dirty asphalt on the street, somehow managing to look rather graceful still.

Harry could tell that the Dark Lord was, despite having offered it, not only unused to, but also less than comfortable with playing the submissive part in any kind of relationship, a fact that only served to cause him more satisfaction as he entered him without any preparation or warning.

Voldemort visibly tensed, but showed no other outward sign of discomfort, although their mental connection, now opened wider than ever, allowed Harry to know that he had in fact barely supressed the urge to cry out. Harry cupped his counterpart's hipbones in his palms, digging his fingernails into the skin as deep as he could, and began to pound into him carelessly.

"I hate you," he repeated in a cracked voice. "You destroy everything you touch."

Thrusting even harder, blood lubricating the passage.

"You really believe that this is greatness, what you're doing. It's not, it's just madness."

Following a sudden inspiration, Harry slashed his wand through the air. A long, angry red cut tore open on Voldemort's back, not deep enough to leave a permanent scar if healed magically, but deep enough to hurt just fine.

"Look at yourself now, you're hardly even human."

Another cut across the first one.

"Just a thing without a conscience."

And another.

"You are sick."


"You disgust me."





Blood smeared across skin.

"You kill people for being FUCKING THERE!"

Scarlet tainting snow-white.

"You deserve this."

Harry wrapped his left hand around Voldemort's still-erect penis.

"And deep down, you know it."

Jerking his hand up and down.

"You say you hate mudbloods, yet your own father was a muggle."

Another cut.

"You are worthless, just like he was to you."

And another one.

"A disgrace to humanity."

Blood dripping to the ground.

"Filthy half-blood."

The hand on the cock moved faster now, more determined.



"Your Death Eaters didn't even believe me when I told them at the Ministry."

Bone surfacing.

"I know the truth."

Spine laid free.

"You hate yourself."

They came both at exactly the same moment, merged together body, mind and soul.

"You will go to hell someday, Tom Riddle."

A single tear falling, unseen.

Harry pulled out of Voldemort, his left hand covered in blood and cum, relishing in the waves of degradation and shame he felt coming from the Lord.

Wordlessly, the dark wizard stood up, healed the worst of his injuries and with another wave of his wand, was fully dressed again. He went over to the garden wall and sat down, at the same place where he had found Harry earlier that night. Leaning comfortably against the wall, he watched Harry pick up his clothes and get dressed in a less convenient way.

"Give me one of your cigarettes, will you?" he asked once Harry was done.

"Sure." Harry sat down next to him, handing Voldemort a cigarette and taking another one for himself, lighting them both. He placed an arm around the slight figure next to him, snuggling closer, trying to share some of his own warmth with the other. The Dark Lord laid his head on Harry's shoulder, resting in the warm embrace.

"You know that this changes nothing," he said, stating a fact.

"I do."

"It does not matter where I come from, Harry, or which path I choose to walk on. I have rid myself of my filthy muggle father and left his name behind. These days, I am Lord Voldemort. And in the end, I will be God."