Love at first sight

Summary: Voldemort really opens his eyes once he kidnaps Harry Potter, and really has a look on the teen. And promptly falls in love with him. Slash. Rated M for reason!

Pairing/s: VoldemortHarry

Warnings: Slash, guys, SLASH. Guys in love. Kk? Good? Right. Moving on.

Disclaimer: If I had own Harry Potter, Severus and Fred would never had died, Dumbledore would have his head chopped off and Harry would be in love with Voldemort. So no, I obviously don't own Harry Potter and be quite happy I don't.


UPDATED 2012-06-06


Voldemort looked at the unconscious teenager and sighed softly. Finally. Harry Potter was here, helpless and soon to die. He stepped up from his throne chair and kneeled down by the body. His Death Eaters had left hurriedly after he had ordered them away; not even Bellatrix wanted to be near Voldemort once he had that glint in his eyes.

He stroke away the raven locks and was left staring. Pale skin, long eyelashes resting against his cheeks and slightly pink lips. Harry Potter was quite beautiful. Voldemort's eyes travelled along the body and sneered when he saw the oversized clothes. He banished them, leaving the teen only in his underwear.

The teen was thin but what a body! Voldemort drank in the sight of the Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die, his smooth chest and long legs. One thin hand with spider-like fingers came to rest on the thigh of the boy, and the Dark Lord shuddered. His whole body reacted with that simple contact.

Right. He was supposed to kill Potter, not fall in love with him.

The man sighed deeply. Decision made. Great. Just bloody great. This was going to be fun trying to explain to his followers. There would be a lot of Crucios delivered if he wanted to get his point clear.

Voldemort lifted Harry up and carried him upstairs. The boy's head rested against his shoulder, face tilted slightly upwards so Voldemort could watch him. So beautiful. Sinfully beautiful. If the Dark Lord had anything to say about the matter, Harry would never be allowed to be looked upon by another person ever again.

He came to an empty guestroom and placed the teen down onto the bed. He removed the dust from the covers and the rest of the room before going to get some robes, leaving the teen on the bed. He came back with an emerald robe of his own, shrank it and dressed Harry in it. He gently laid the boy down and spread the blankets over him. He then left and to be safe he locked the door and warded the windows shut. He didn't want the teen to try if he could fly without a broom.


Harry blinked. Where was he? The teen sat up, blankets falling from his chest. He blinked sleepily and yawned a bit before wondering once more where he was. He looked down at the robe he was wearing. It was nice and soft, fitting him perfectly. The first clothing that ever fitted him perfectly since his parents. It made his heart ache a bit. He looked around the room again; it was nice and big but nothing was out of the ordinary. What was this place? More importantly; where was this place?

Voldemort! He had been taken to Voldemort by Death Eaters who attacked the Dursleys! Was this at Voldemort's house? If so, why was he still alive and why was he dressed so nicely?

A meal popped up at the desk, and Harry jumped. He put a hand to his racing heart as he got up and made his way over to it. He looked at it suspiciously. Was it poisoned? Was it dangerous? Was it good, because damn he was hungry! One thing was sure; the Dursleys certainly did not care one bit if he starved or not.

He ignored everything he had been taught from the Wizarding World and devoured the meal within a few minutes with a good appetite. He was not really aware of the taste; just having his stomach a bit filled was the best feeling he had had ever since he left Hogwarts. He was tempted to lick the plate clean but had enough manners to know that would be considered a bit rude.

A chuckle from the doorway made him turn around, still feeling hungry despite the huge meal he had just consumed. Starvation and Harry Potter never got along with each other. Voldemort was responsible for the chuckle and did not look nearly as frightening as he should do. A warm smile on the man's lips was enough to make Harry comfortable. Hell, Voldemort was nicer than the Dursleys at the moment; he had given the teen clothes and food! Harry would happily beg for another plate of food.

"Hungry?" the Dark Lord asked, tilting his head to the side as he watched the emerald-eyed teen with amused eyes.

Not knowing anything else to do, Harry nodded. Where was the food?

"You're wondering why I haven't killed you yet." Not a question yet Harry nodded again while thinking whatever the Dark Lord was going to say he could hurry up and then get Harry some more food. "I'm not quite sure of it myself so far. Give me a few days to figure it all out?"

Voldemort actually asked him something? Asked his nemesis something? Well, as long as Harry could live, and eat mind you, so he nodded for the third time. Voldemort must have found that funny because he chuckled lightly again.

"Want some more to eat?"

"Would be nice," Harry finally said, eyes sparkling. Food, finally!

"Want it here or down in the dining room?"

"Are there any Death Eaters around?" Maybe he should think about that too. Harry did not fancy having any Death Eaters close when he ate. Gah, could he please stop thinking about food?

"Merlin, no. I try to avoid them as much as I can; insufferable beings."

"Everyone of them?" the raven-haired teen asked, curious, as he and Voldemort made their ways downstairs.

"Well, Lucius is alright," the dark wizard said thoughtfully. "Severus is not that bad, but I keep him away just in case he's loyal to Dumbledore."

"You know of…?"

"Him, spying? Of course; that's why I never tell anyone anything. Paranoia I guess."

"Constant vigilance," Harry muttered. Voldemort looked oddly at him, then laughed and replied:

"Something like that."


The next few days passed in a similar pattern. Harry would wake up, Voldemort would accompany him to the dining room, they would have breakfast and then Harry could explore the Manor while the Dark Lord did whatever a Dark Lord did on his days. Sometimes the man would stay and they would play chess or read a book.

Voldemort's sanity had never been the best, but it flew right out the window now. He could not even think of killing Harry. The teen had cute habits as well; whenever he thought, he always chewed on his bottom lip and tapped his foot in the ground evenly albeit quietly. When Harry read a book, he always moved around to find a comfortable position and Voldemort laughed every time the teen ended up on the floor rather than in the chair he was seated in. Oh, and a blushing Harry was the best things Voldemort had seen in many years.

They ate lunch and dinner together, then it was time for Harry to go back to his room since Death Eaters came and went through the Manor during the evening. Harry would go to bed whenever he wanted but always had the feeling Voldemort checked him before the man went to bed himself. Maybe to make sure the teen was still there; that the teen had not left him.

One evening the noise was more than ever after one of the raids, and Harry moved to listen. He heard Bellatrix's frantic yelling and then Lucius' commanding voice ordering the Death Eaters out of the Manor. Where was Voldemort? The man trusted Lucius, yes, but never let the man command everyone.

Glad that the Dark Lord had given Harry back his wand, the teen quickly put some glamours onto himself and conjured a black hooded robe. He threw it onto himself and was out the door within a few moments. He quickly descended the stairs and was left standing in a frozen position, eyes wide. The sight that met him was going to stay with him forever.

Voldemort was cradled in Lucius' arms while a healer desperately tried to heal the opening in their Dark Lord's chest. Blood dribbled down Voldemort's mouth and his eyes were closed. The blood from the wound had already stained the floor and parts of Lucius' robe.

No. This is not happening. This is not happening!

The blonde man noticed him and snapped:

"I told you to get out! Get out!"

Harry could run back to the Light right now. No Voldemort to stop him; even Lucius told him to get out. Only thing was; he did not want to leave. He wanted to stay with Voldemort. He wanted to hear the man's laughter ringing in his ears, seeing the warm smile only meant for him and feel the light caresses on his skin. He did not want to leave Voldemort. Merlin he may have gone insane just like the Dark Lord, but Harry wanted to stay with him.

Said man opened his eyes and coughed. Lucius held the spasming body still and roared to the healer:

"How much longer damnit?"

"I can't do much more!" the healer cried. "The wound is too severe!"

"Useless!" the blonde screamed. "Continue!"

The healer continued, pushing almost all of his magic into the wound. Voldemort tilted his head and saw Harry underneath the glamours. He made a weak smile and waved his hand feebly, waving Harry closer. Harry knew what he wanted and came forward. Lucius was about to snap at him again, when the Dark Lord stretched out a hand and the emerald-eyed teen took it with outmost care and kneeled down. He held the hand gently and looked intently at Voldemort's face.

"I'm sorry Mr Malfoy," the healer whispered. "He's dying."

You're not dying. I'm not going to let you.

Harry gripped the hand tighter and chanted those two sentences in his mind. Not going to die, not going to die, not going to die. Voldemort made his secret little smile, the one he always saved for Harry only, and shook his head. It was useless, he tried to tell the teen. Useless. He is going to die either way.

"No," Harry whispered. "I don't want you to die."

The Dark Lord chuckled at his desperate tone and brought Harry's hand closer. The healer and Lucius looked on as Voldemort placed a kiss on the teen's hand, smearing blood onto the white skin and smiled once more.

The cough splattered blood into Harry's face, and his emerald eyes widened. The coppery scent filled the air around him. There was something stopping him from helping the Dark Lord but what? He wanted to help; he wanted to help badly! Voldemort's eyes slipped close once more, his strength disappearing at an alarming rate. The healer was outright sobbing, and the blonde man shook the dark wizard, trying to wake him up from the sleep of death.

I love you.

The new power surging through Harry's veins made his skin glow and the healer and Lucius were thrown away by the sheer strength. His eyes flared searing white, and he brought Voldemort's body close, the man's head resting over his heart.

You're not going to die.


Voldemort looked up. White. He looked to his left. White. He looked to his right. White. White all around him. White, white, white, white… white was everything. He sat up, curled up once he realized he had no clothing. Was this death? If so, it was rather comfortable if you looked away from the part of no clothing.

Yet it was something that was missing. Something important. What? What was he missing? He was warm, content and not in pain. What could he be missing?

A spark of golden made him afraid. But then it sparked again and lit up something inside of him. And at once, he had a tight pain in his chest. He was aching. Why? He looked down at his thin chest. There was nothing wrong. No wounds, no scratches, nothing. Then why did it hurt so much? With every beat his heart took, it sent agony along with his blood. He clutched at his chest, trying to make the pain go away.

You're not going to die.

The voice was familiar, and afraid. Why would someone fear for him? Why would someone really care for him? No one had cared, no one does care, and no one would ever care. Who was that voice?


He liked it here, thank you very much.



Breathe, or I'll come with you! Wake up! Wake up for me! Tom!

Voldemort's eyes widened, and he breathed.


Lucius and the healer stared as Voldemort took a huge breath before coughing. No blood, just coughing. His wound healed slowly but surely. The teen slumped down a bit, sweat trickling down his face and dropping from his chin.

The Dark Lord peered up at Harry, the red eyes rather confused. The teen scowled at him angrily, looking much like an enraged Dark Lord himself and snapped:

"Don't ever do that again!"

Then he promptly collapsed.


When he woke up again, he was cradled in Voldemort's arms in the man's bedroom. He was warm and content and peered up at the Dark Lord in the same fashion the man had done not too long ago. Voldemort smiled lightly and said:

"Are you aware of what soul-mates are?"

"… No, can't say I do."

"Didn't expect you to. But you got a guess?"

"People meant for each other?" Harry asked, brows furrowed.

"Correct," Voldemort said. "After my little injury and you healing me I checked it up. That's apparently what we are; soul-mates."

Harry stared. Finally he got out:

"… I beg your pardon?"

"That was my reaction as well you could say, although I probably scared the shit out of Lucius with my shriek. Anyway, I was dying, and thought it would be nice. But the closer to death I came, the more pain in my chest increased. It felt like someone was ripping my body apart, and then mend it together just to do it over and over again."

Harry stared up into the pale face, into the red eyes. That was what he had felt when Voldemort's breaths came longer apart. Someone was destroying him from the inside out and then healed him just to start it all over again.

"Soul-mates can't handle when one die and the other live. Either they both live or they both die. Many people have died in agony because their soul-mate died."

"Are we soul-mates then?"

"Yes," Voldemort said. "I heard your voice. You were calling out for me, even going so far to call me by my birth name."

"I said Tom? Wow, I did call out some pretty mean things but I never thought I'd say Tom."

"Someone witnessed your little tantrum over my nearly dead body?"

"Lucius and that healer. The healer was in shock and probably didn't hear much, but Lucius was clear in his head all the time."

"Did he realize who you were?"



They stopped speaking for a while, just lying and looking at each other. Voldemort stroke Harry's cheek. The teen leaned in closer, curious and they kissed. They moved so Harry was lying on top, and only then did the raven-haired teen realize he was naked and so was his soul-mate. He moaned as they rubbed against each other.

"Will you be mine?" Voldemort whispered.

"Anything," Harry replied. "Anything you want."

The Dark Lord smiled, and turned them over.


Three years later

Hogwarts was falling. Dumbledore faced Voldemort, hoping the Dark Lord's time had come. He only wished Harry had been alive. The boy deserved freedom more than anyone else. But Harry had died over three years ago, killed probably by Voldemort. No one had found his body, not even Dumbledore's spy Severus Snape.

"Your time has come, Tom!" Dumbledore shouted and the man laughed at that.

"There has been many times in the past my time came, but I never died," Voldemort said and spread his arms. "Why should this be any different?"

"This time we will succeed, for Harry's sake!" Dumbledore roared.

"How much thought have you given him, huh?" Voldemort said and looked around to the Light people. "He was just someone who was going to kill me, and that was all."

"Not true!" Molly Weasley shouted. "You killed him, and we are going to take revenge on you for him!"

The Dark Lord looked at her at first, and then began chuckling. The chuckling turned into laughter and he had to hide his mouth behind his hand to quiet down. Many of the Light people grew angry.

"This is the first time we meet in three years," the headmaster said hurriedly, changing the subject when sensing his people's anger. He wished nothing more for Voldemort's death but the man was not going to give them more grief by laughing them in the face. "What have you been doing?"

Voldemort finally managed to control himself and said calmly:

"I have been… resting."

"Resting?" Ron Weasley shouted as he came up to Dumbledore's side. "Why would you need resting?"

"People grow tired sometimes," the Dark Lord said. "Isn't that right, my love?"

A person walked forward and they all gaped. His coal black hair came to rest in small curls around his waist, his deep emerald-red eyes showed nothing in them and his skin was almost as pale as Voldemort's. He was dressed in dark green robes, and pressed himself to the Dark Lord's side.

"I guess you're right," the man murmured to Voldemort. "Who are these people?"

"Right. I sometimes you forget you have amnesia."

'Amnesia?' Dumbledore pondered.

"I'm by no means senile because of it," the man snapped to the Dark Lord. "I just suppress some things I didn't want to remember anymore."

"Like every day of your life until you were sixteen?"

"I guess I had a bad childhood."

Voldemort kissed the top of the man's head, making the raven-haired one scowl a bit, and said to Dumbledore:

"I guess I forgot to introduce you. It seems I am bound to forget many things these days. This is my soul-mate, Albus. Love, this man is Albus Dumbledore and the man I am going to kill."

"Oh, hello," the man said, waving absently to the headmaster.

"What is his name?" Dumbledore asked the Dark Lord while thinking frantically. Voldemort's soul-mate? How come he had not found the man before Voldemort had done? Then this would never have happened if they had killed the soul-mate to the Dark Lord. Then all of this would never have happened!

"Don't know," Voldemort said. "I thought I just said he had amnesia. I call him Raven for the lack of a real name."

"Child, are you aware of whom that man is?" Dumbledore asked the younger man.

"My soul-mate Tom Riddle," Raven replied. He then looked at his lover and said, "Who's Dumbledore?"

"That's him," Voldemort said, pointing at the headmaster.

"I know that," Raven said, eyebrow twitching. "You said it. I'm wondering what he is, idiot."

"Oh, he's the headmaster of this school and don't call me idiot," the Dark Lord said, his voice irritated at the last words. He then relaxed and continued, "Do you like the atmosphere?"

"She's lovely," the man said, looking up at the castle.

"Who's lovely?" Hermione Granger asked as she stepped up as well next to the old Light wizard, her wand pointed at them.

"Hogwarts, you bush-hair," Raven said and she went deep-red.

"You bastard, shut up!" Ron shouted.

"Now, now love, calm down," the Dark Lord said. "I know you love to insult people but let's wait with that."

"So no insulting tomato?"

"Tomato?" Voldemort asked.

"That one," Raven said and pointed at Ron. The redhead grew livid. Voldemort groaned.

"Oh… no, no insulting tomato, love."

"Damn." The man sounded disappointed.

"Enough talking," Dumbledore said. "Tom, this is the day you are going to die."

Voldemort looked at him.

"Lucius," he said and the blonde man came up. "Take Raven."

He bowed lightly and turned to the other man. Said man pouted but followed Lucius through the army of Death Eaters. Voldemort turned back to the old wizard and said:

"You are the one who will die today."


Raven and Lucius laughed a bit at Voldemort's lie and the blonde took a bit of the other's hair before saying:

"Well, your hair is black after all."

"Raven? That's so cliché," the man complained.

Lucius chuckled at his pout and said:

"Well, should he just say 'Albus, this is my soul-mate Harry James Potter; I believe you've met him before'?"

"Yes, that would have been so much more fun!"

"But you played along the moment he said you had amnesia."

"Yeah, didn't want him to look like an idiot."

"You called him idiot," Lucius pointed out.

"That's beside the point," 'Raven' huffed.

Lucius snorted and Harry grinned.


The fight was vicious and Dumbledore had a hard trouble to believe that the lowly Death Eaters had grown so strong for the last three years. They were defeating the Light so lightly, almost tauntingly!

"What's wrong, Albus?" the Dark Lord said with a smile.

The man growled and sent several spells against Voldemort. The man side-stepped them easily and laughed. They heard another set of laughing and Dumbledore turned to see who it belonged to.

Raven was slashing through his forces like they were nothing, his mouth twisted into a grin and Lucius by his side just like Severus was by the headmaster's side. Voldemort had not seemed particularly upset over that one of his Death Eater's was a spy.

"Careful, darling!" Voldemort called out. "Ginger just fixed that robe for you, so don't destroy it!"

"I'll do my best!" Raven called back. One of the Light wizards shot a nasty hex towards the raven-haired man but he side-stepped before shooting off an Avada Kedavra with his hand.

"You have quite a vicious soul-mate," Dumbledore commented.

"We are rather alike," Voldemort said with a chuckle. "Now, now, Albus, we are supposed to fight, not chat."

"We only need to chat for a little while longer before they have succeeded to kill your soul-mate," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile. "Don't worry; we will only kill him with the spell you love so much."

Voldemort's eyes widened and he turned in time to see Moody shoot an Avada Kedavra towards Harry.

"Raven!" he shouted.

The man whirled around and they could see his eyes widened a fraction before green light surrounded him. The Light cheered at the success of the spell and now awaited Voldemort's death.

Only it did not happen. The Dark Lord sighed and put his head in his hands while saying:

"Great; now you've done it."

"Done what?" Dumbledore shouted, enraged. Why was not Voldemort dead?

"You made him angry," Voldemort said.

The green light disappeared and showed a sight no one from the Light side expected. Raven's hair was flying in the air due to his anger, and his eyes shone brightly. His jaws were clenched and his body shaking.

"I hate the Avada Kedavra spell," he growled out. "Are you aware it hurts like hell?"

"Love, I don't think anyone else has survived it," Voldemort pointed out.

"What about you?" Raven asked. "Didn't you survive it once?"

"I was too busy getting my soul out of my body to feel the pain," Voldemort said and waved a hand.

"Well, that's beside the point I guess," the man said and then looked at Moody. "You… die."

The next moment, Moody's head was severed from his body. Raven hadn't even moved.

"Aah, that's my Raven," Voldemort said even as Dumbledore's mouth gaped like a fish. "Wonderful, my darling, wonderful. Come to me now."

Harry moved obediently over to the Dark Lord and the man pressed a kiss to the younger one's temple.

"Avada Kedavra!" Dumbledore shouted, the spell speeding towards them.

Raven stopped it with one of his hands, and shipped it off to another from the Light. Dumbledore looked around quickly; the Death Eaters were winning.

"Haven't you realized you can't win?" Voldemort asked with a grin.

"You will never win!" the headmaster shouted.

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Raven growled and slashed out with his arm.

The legs, from knee-down, severed from Dumbledore's body. The aged man was silent for a moment before a scream of pain worked its way out of his mouth. Voldemort looked on as the man fell down into a puddle of his own blood and chuckled.

"That was rather brutal," Voldemort murmured into the raven hair. "May I ask why?"

"You may not," Harry replied. "I just felt like it."

Voldemort laughed and carefully, so no one could see, cupped his lover's behind.

"I want you to remember this image," Voldemort whispered into Harry's ear. "Your pleasure is so delicious right now. I want us both to remember it."

Harry bit his lip a bit, and nodded, pressing into the Dark Lord's side.

"Are you prepared for the after-life?" the Dark Lord asked the headmaster.

"I will not give up!" Dumbledore screamed. "I will not let you defeat me!"

"Aah, so noisy, so irritating," Voldemort said. "I would like you to know something before you die though."

The aged man looked at the Dark Lord in confusion. Voldemort laughed cruelly.

"Your precious Harry Potter isn't dead," the man said with a grin.

Dumbledore's eyes widened for a moment before going to Raven. Harry winked and said:

"Hello headmaster."

"Harry…" he said weakly, agony filling his eyes. Said Harry loved it, seeing the hurt, the betrayal, in the man's old eyes. He loved it, tasted the bitterness of it and swirled it around his mouth. So wonderful.

"Sorry about that Albus; I helped myself," Voldemort said and clutched Harry closer to him. "And I daresay Harry helped himself as well. I've been a pretty obedient lover, haven't I?" The last was directed to Harry.

"Such a good pet," Harry whispered and the Dark Lord shot him an irritated look. The younger of them laughed huskily, kissing away Voldemort's frown.

"Harry, no… why?" Dumbledore did not understand.

The sheer hurt in the aged wizard's voice made Harry shiver with excitement.

"You never loved me," Harry said. "No one of you did. You didn't care about me, left me with those goddamn Muggles you know I hate so fucking much and didn't give a shit about me for the rest of the summer. Voldemort cared. He showed me love, and he took care of me."

"Harry, listen to what you're saying," Dumbledore pleaded, getting up on his elbows. "You're saying that your parents' killer loves you…"

"Why else would he save me?" Harry screamed. "Why else would he tell me he loved me? Why else would he kill anyone for me?"

"Calm down, love, calm down," Voldemort said, massaging Harry's shoulders soothingly. "It's alright now; same time tomorrow there will be no more Dumbledore. Tomorrow we will lie in our bed and bathe in our freedom."

Harry buried his face into Voldemort's shoulder and said:

"Kill him."

"As you wish, my master," Voldemort said mockingly, and raised his wand to point it at Dumbledore.

"Harry, listen to me-!"

The green light was the last thing Albus Dumbledore saw.


Hermione and Ron tried to get loose but to no avail. They were completely trapped within the ropes. Ron's face was stricken with tears; he had lost his entire family. All of them were dead, gone, lost. He would never forgive Voldemort and that damn lover of his!

"You killers!" Hermione shouted and the survivors from the Light looked up, rage in their eyes and hatred in their minds.

Voldemort came walking, his lover's hand in his own, swinging lightly. The two of them walked among the corpses as if it was nothing. As if this was no battlefield but a meadow filled with fucking flowers. It was sickening.

"Hello there," Voldemort said, ignoring the bushy-haired girl. "I see we didn't quite kill everyone. What shall we do with them?"

"Kill them as well," Raven piped up.

"I know you want that love, but shouldn't we be kind to some of our followers and let them have some fun as well?"

Raven bit his lip and looked back to where the big group of Death Eaters were currently cheering and laughing. He looked back at the few guards watching the Light, then shrugged and said:


"Hmm, I do think Draco expressed an interest of dealing with the bushy-hared girl there," the Dark Lord said and pointed at Hermione. "What was her name again?"

"Mudblood," Raven offered.

"Not quite right, love, but close I suppose. Try again."

"Mudblood," the man said stubbornly.

"One may wonder how I put up with you," Voldemort sighed.

"You love me obviously," the raven-haired man said with a grin.

"Aah, the insanity of it all… I actually do love you."

Raven giggled and curled his fingers around the Dark Lord's hand. Hermione was beat red in her face but not about to give up:

"You bloody killers! You filth! The Ministry will never give up control, will never let you win!"

"We've already won over them," Voldemort drawled out. "Lucius is to enter his post as the Minister in a few days, and we can't have any witnesses placing him here now can we? Draco!"

The blonde young man came immediately and bowed lightly. Raven paid no attention now, seemingly very interested in how Voldemort's hand and his own fit together so well.

"Take the Mudblood with you. Make sure she dies in the end."

"As you wish, my lord," Draco said. He grabbed Hermione by the hair and dragged her off, she kicking and screaming.

"Miss Pathetic," Raven suddenly said.

"Miss what?" Voldemort asked, turning his eyes to look at his lover.

"She the Mudblood… or whatever her name is. Miss Pathetic. Can't she at least go to death quietly?"

"Only you would complain on a person's fighting spirit," the Dark Lord moaned.

"Will you finish dealing with them?" Raven whined. "I wanna go home."

"Patience, love, patience. Three years with me and you still haven't learned that?"

Raven stuck out his tongue at the man.

"Fine, fine, I'll hurry."

The Death Eaters snickered quietly at the scene; they knew Voldemort always caved when it came to Harry.

Harry himself smiled sweetly and nuzzled the man's neck with his nose. Voldemort absently called out the Death Eaters. The Light people screamed all they could, spitting at people and trying to hurt them as much as possible. Ron was the last to be taken but he did not aim all his energy to the one who was going to kill him.

He spitted Raven right in the face and shouted:

"You fucking sick bastard!"

Harry wiped the spit away and looked at it. He locked eyes with Ron and said:

"I've always hated you."

"What? I've never even seen you, let alone met a bastard like you!" Ron shouted, his anger of having his family killed spilling over the edge.

"Look closely at me, Ronnie, and have a very loooong look," Raven said and leaned forward.

Ron was about to shout when he seemed to realize something. His eyes widened as he looked at a scar near Raven's jaw. A memory flashed; second task the Tri-wizard tournament. Harry Potter touching his jaw, bleeding. A small scar was the thank-you gift from some disgruntled water creature.

"That scar…" he said. "You're… no, you can't be him…"

"Can't be who, Ronnie?"


"Bingo!" the man said happily and made a small victory-dance. Voldemort snorted. "And the grand prize for that; death, slow death! Be sure to give him that, Bellatrix darling!"

"Absolutely Harry sweetheart," she said and grinned. They always gave each other nicknames as 'darling', 'sweetie' and 'honey'. Well, they were both a bit of nutters.

Voldemort could only roll his eyes.


The next morning

Harry refused to leave the bed. Voldemort kissed his shoulder blades and said:

"You can't lazy around all day."

"Sure I can. We just defeated the world, more or less," Harry insisted. "I didn't thank you."

"Thank me?"

"For killing Dumbledore. And Hermione sort of. And Ron of course. And-"

"-everyone else," Voldemort finished. "You're quite welcome, my darling." He also enjoyed giving Harry nicknames. Well, he was a nutter too so why not?

Harry snuggled up to him and said:

"And because we practically defeated the world yesterday, can I sleep a bit longer?"

"You lazy runt."

But Voldemort said this while smiling. Harry smiled back and kissed his cheek before dosing off. Voldemort brought his Harry closer, figuring he would indulge his lover in a sleep-in; he was after all Harry's obedient pet and wouldn't deny his love anything.


The end of it! Did you like it? I tried with the approach of Dumbledore really liking Harry as a student and feeling betrayed. I dunno really why but I do think one of my readers wrote it in a review once, prompting me to do it. I think it turned out pretty well, but what you think it's up to you!

Until another time,