Ok, I've recently become obsessed with the HarryxVoldemort pairing, going as far as to read some very long and awesome stories by some highly talented writers, including FirePhoenix8's stories the Black Heir and Vindico Atrum (incomplete). If you like reading a dark Harry Potter and Voldemort pairing, then I highly recommend these two fics.

Anyway, this is my first HP story ever, and, to make matters even more challenging, it's a HPxLV pairing of all things (don't read if you don't like!). Please review and offer up any advice you can give a new-timer to the HP world, and constructive criticism is welcome, but no flames please!

Warning: this is a slash pairing. If you don't like, then don't read. It's as simple as that. Again, I repeat: this is a HarryxVoldemort pairing, and there will be rough sex, so don't read the story if you don't like the pairing!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I wish I did, 'cause I would do an alternate version of the series in which Harry and Voldemort really got together and Harry turned evil. Too bad that won't ever happen *sniff*, so you guys and I will have to settle for fanfiction.


He wasn't sure when their relationship took such the twisted turn that it had. They'd gone from enemies to allies, from allies to companions, and from companions to lovers in less than a few months, but he knew from the start that the strange, red eyed man was obsessed with him. He had been for eighteen years.

Perhaps the change started when he was betrayed by his friends, the people that had once been in the center of his world. Or maybe it was Dumbledore, with his vicious manipulations and cunning plans that were always hidden behind a loving, grandfatherly façade with twinkling blue eyes. They turned against him and tried to convince him that his sacrifice was necessary to save the wizarding world. When really, they wanted him to die in order to save their sorry hides.

He remembered it all to well, when Dumbledore started hinting about the horcruxes. All of the clues had been left for him to pick up, to piece together like a giant puzzle depicting the macabre scene that was his life. But he wasn't as stupid as the old man had thought he was. He figured out the horrible truth long before expected. He was a horcrux. There was a piece of Voldemort's soul lodged inside him, and it was only with his death that the infamous Dark Lord could be killed.

Worse, his friends were on Dumbledore's side. When he told them about the horcruxes, they said that he had to do anything to ensure Voldemort's death. Anything. Nothing mattered above his death. The fate of the wizarding world was balancing on his shoulders, a weight that he wanted nothing more than to topple.

A blazing sensation of rage had overcome him after that, more painful than the cruciatus curse at it's worst. At that moment, he hated them more than Lord Voldemort. The man who killed his parents was a cruel bastard who basked in the bloodshed he created, and he knew all too well that the man manipulated his followers to get what he wanted. But Voldemort never lied. Bended the truth to suit his purposes, yes, but the man had never lied to him. So unlike Dumbledore, who had openly lied to him for years, pushing him towards a goal that would end with his death.

That was the beginning, the darkest hours in his life.

Needless to say, Voldemort had been more than surprised when he'd asked to join his side. The Golden Boy wanting vengeance? But he'd managed to convince him, even if the method was a tad…disturbing. He had been forced to murder one of his classmates, Neville Longbottom, the only son of the aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom. While he had no personal issues with Neville, he'd killed the boy without a second thought and had successfully proved himself to the Dark Lord. Maybe he recognized the bloodthirsty gleam in his emerald eyes, or the dangerous power that swirled inside him when he delivered the killing spell, but Voldemort had eagerly accepted him into his ranks, opening his arms to the boy he'd been trying to kill for sixteen years.

"And look at me now…" he murmured, glancing around his surroundings. Plush fur carpets, a four poster bed draped in velvet, and elegant furniture done in dark cherry wood. Leaning back in his high backed chair, he glanced out the gothic styled window and admired the snowy landscape and trees that stood out like dark shadows against the snow. Lifting a chilled crystal goblet to his lips, he took a small sip and smirked, a cruel gleam entering his emerald green eyes. "I'm more powerful than I ever imagined possible."

True, he'd had to sacrifice his light magic, but his dark magic was much more powerful. The potent magic swirling inside him proved that, as it did two years ago, when he turned against the light and it's bigoted philosophies and joined Voldemort. Of course, it had come with a price. The whole of Hogwarts, save the Slytherins, slandered his name when he betrayed them, calling him a traitor and power hungry whore. True, he may have been a traitor, even though his so called friends betrayed him first, but he was the farthest thing from a whore. When he joined Voldemort, he was a virgin, and had remained that way for a few good months.

Needless to say, he'd made sure that those bastards suffered. The sensation of blood splattering over his skin as he casted curse after curse upon those insufferable children was satisfying, as was seeing his former friends writhe in pain when they suffered underneath his cruciatus. They'd begged and pleaded, asking him why he'd betrayed them, and he gave them the answer they so desired before letting them choke to death on their own blood when he slashed open their chests with the sectumspempra spell. It was their fault. Their's and Dumbledore's.

"What're you thinking about, my serpent?"

A smile unfurling on his lips, he glanced over his shoulder and felt a familiar warmth flood his chest as he stared into flaming red irises framed by inky lashes, the eyes set into a high cheek boned face with neat black hair falling in satiny shrouds around his ears and neck.

Reaching over his shoulder, the red eyed wizard grabbed the goblet from his hand and took a drink, all the while gazing down at the smiling teen. "Your fallen comrades? Imagining their vivid deaths in your mind?"

"Yes, actually. And those fools weren't my comrades, as you well know," the boy murmured. "Dumbledore was a treacherous schemer, and my so called friends were so blinded by the old fool's philosophies that they would've agreed with anything he wanted to do. They too would have wanted my death in the end."

"True. I always knew Dumbledore was a manipulative old coot, but what he had planned for you was cruel, even in my eyes. And your friends were judgmental fools, especially that mudblood girl. They couldn't see past the wall of lies Dumbledore had built around their precious school."

"….they would have let me die." Sighing, he gently clasped the pale hand laying on his shoulder and tugged the smirking man around to the front of the chair. "And I very much prefer being alive," he suddenly grinned, brushing his lips over the spidery hand in his own.

"And I enjoy your being alive, little serpent, although I must admit that you have your faults. Being stubborn, insistent, hot tempered,"

"Intelligent, cunning, and a fabulous lover. All qualities that you yourself possess, Tom."

"But of course. I am, after all, Lord Voldemort." Pale lips curved into a wicked smile as Voldemort leaned down and, raking his fingers through silky hair, licked the shell of the boy's ear and sultrily growled, "but you have your uses as well, I suppose."

"Sod off. You know very well that you couldn't live without me."

Chuckling, Voldemort brushed his lips over the teenager's neck and flicked his tongue out to caress the satiny skin, his fingers tightening in the black locks draping a pale face equally as beautiful as his own restored one. "Too true. But you couldn't live without me either, my serpent." Gently nipping the spot with his teeth, he caressed the youthful face and smirked, a flicker of lust awakening in his ruby eyes. "Ironically, the prophecy was right. Neither of us could live while the other survived. When you made the decision that day to join me, you killed the boy that you had once been and fulfilled our foretold destiny."

"Such a pleasant thought, Tom." Laughing, the teenager ran a pale fingertip down the older man's cheek, a playful grin forming on his lips. "Who would have thought that I, the supposed savior of the wizarding world, and you, Lord Voldemort, the most famous Dark Lord in all of history, would end up becoming the most fearsome duo to ever to grace this earth."

"You think highly of yourself," Voldemort sneered, though a mischievous edge burned in his garnet eyes.

"And you don't?"

Raising a brow, Voldemort grabbed the boy's slender waist and pulled him out of the chair. Draping an arm around his waist, he flushed the body against his own and leered down at the smirking brunette. "And why shouldn't I? This war is finished. Dumbledore's dead, slain by our hands, and his precious Order has been all but wiped out. There's no one left who can resist me, and soon enough I shall become the ruler of the wizarding world." Peering at him with hooded eyes, Voldemort cast his gaze down the youthful form sprawled against him. "And, of course, I managed to sway the Boy Who Lived into my arms, and into my bed. I would say that merits thinking highly of myself."

Green eyes flickered before narrowing into blazing slits, and a lusty smile encompassed the teen's ethereally beautiful face. "I came to you of my own accord, as much as you'd love to think otherwise. And don't forget, Tom….you may be the one who shags me, but I have you twisted around my little finger."

"You may continue deluding yourself if you want, but you shouldn't forget either, little serpent. In the end, you may have made the decision to ally yourself with the dark, but it was I who entranced you with its beauty. I taught you to possess and control the power residing inside you, and it was I who claimed you as my own when you finally came to my bed." Voldemort smirked at him, a possessive quality radiating in his eyes. "In the end, Lord Voldemort defeated the great Harry Potter."

The former hero of the light draped his arms around Voldemort's neck and cocked his head, giving the man a brilliant smile. "In the end, Harry Potter fell in love with his greatest enemy. Kind of a fucked up fairytale, wouldn't you say?"

"Tut tut, little serpent. Why do you insist upon ruining that beautiful mouth with such vulgar words," Voldemort chided, a mockingly stern note in his silky baritone. "When it could be used for much…better things." Slipping into parseltongue, he hissed into the boy's ear and felt Harry shudder in his arms. "You're beautiful…" he murmured, a dangerous shadow coloring his serpentine voice. Wandlessly conjuring a chair, he collapsed into it and pulled the smirking boy into his lap, deftly undoing the knotted ties holding Harry's silk robe closed as he kissed the side of his neck, running his tongue over the smooth flesh.

Arching against him, Harry moaned and dug his fingernails into the man's shoulders, hissing a few unintelligible words in parseltongue.

"Yesss…..moan for me, my serpent. Only for me. You were mine from the beginning, and you will always be mine, now and forever," Voldemort growled against his neck, trailing his lips across the teen's collarbone and nipping the pale flesh.

"Tom…" gasping, the brunette felt his body tremble in Voldemort's arms and heat pooling in his groin, an all too familiar sensation trickling down his spine. "For Merlin's sake. Don't tease me."

"No. When I chained Dumbledore to a wall and forced him to watch as I took you before mercifully slaughtering him, that was teasing. This will be much more…pleasurable." Voldemort smiled wickedly at him, his hands slipping beneath the robe and grasping Harry's slender waist. "It's been too long, my serpent. I haven't had the chance to pleasure you as much as I would have like, but I'm going to rectify that situation now." He lifted him off his lap and pulled the teenager over to the bed, gazing hungrily as the black robe slid farther down Harry's shoulders. Unfortunately, his lover's legs and groin were covered by the silken pajama bottoms he was so fond of wearing, but that wouldn't a bother for much longer.

Harry grinned at him, turning slightly so that the robe parted and fell down around his elbows. Letting it fall to the floor, he shivered and leaned back against the bed frame, his naked skin awash with faint goose bumps. "Are you now? Sure you can handle the strain, old man?"

Sneering, Voldemort shrugged off his outer robe and tossed it aside. "Don't worry yourself. I have more than enough strength, I can assure you." Grasping the boy's hips, he lifted Harry onto the edge of the mattress and settled himself between slender thighs, all the while wandlessly spelling off his shirt so that he was bare from the waist up.

Eying the naked chest, Harry leaned forward and licked a trail down the man's collarbone, flicking his tongue over a beaded nipple before raising up and smirking.

"Enjoying yourself," Voldemort murmured, feeling the teen's arousal press his thigh.


His eyes narrowing, Voldemort sneered and wrapped his fingers around Harry's arms. Letting out a breathy growl, he climbed on top of the bed and scooted the boy back, pushing him down onto the mound of pillows strewn over the mattress. "Excellent, because so am I." He straddled the teen and peered down at the smirking, green eyed beauty sprawled beneath him, a velvety drawl entering his smooth baritone. "I love the way you look, sprawled out over my bed," Voldemort pushed Harry's arms over his head, stretching the wiry muscles lacing his pale abdomen and pulling them taut. Smirking mischievously, he licked the outline of the boy's lips.

"Do I even have to ask what you're doing," Harry rolled his eyes, though a sexy smile played at his lips as he turned back and arched up, rubbing his clothed groin against Voldemort's. "Kinky bastard."

"So eloquent, Harry. I admit, your power over words is astounding." Splaying himself across the slight form, Voldemort kissed him, pushing his tongue against the crease between Harry's lips and hissing as they parted. Digging his nails into silk clad hips, he thrusted his tongue into the warm mouth and caressed the wet, soft walls.

Lusty gasps fell from his lips, and emerald eyes sparkled as Harry moaned into the warm mouth. "Mmmm….Tom…"

"Harry…my serpent…." Voldemort pulled away and leered at the thin, blushing eighteen year old, drinking in the sight of the pale face with its pink cheeks, sculpted nose and almond shaped eyes hued a remarkable shade of emerald green. "I'm going to enjoy this."

Before he could respond, Voldemort was kissing a path down his chest, a burning pleasure igniting at every spot his lips touched. Dipping his tongue into the teen's navel, he pinched a pink nipple between his fingers and squeezed, smirking when Harry yelped and began squirming on the bed. Giving it a tug that was borderline painful, Voldemort took the other bud into his mouth, mocking what the boy had done to him earlier.

"Tom!" Harry arched off the bed, pushing the nipple farther into Voldemort's mouth. As teeth sank into the tender flesh, he fell down onto the mattress and entwined his legs around the man's waist, shuddering as vivid scarlet eyes bored into his.

"The first time I took you, I remember how tight your body was. You were beautiful, with your porcelain skin and shining eyes." Voldemort nipped the teen's neck, hissing languidly into his ear and drawing a breathy moan from full, bruised lips. "Do you remember?"


Voldemort smirked, reaching between the boy's spread legs. As he cupped the growing bulge straining against the silken bottoms, Harry groaned and tightened his legs around Voldemort's waist, rubbing his erection against his hand and drawing a growl from the smirking man. "You're even more beautiful now, my serpent."

It was true. With his lips parted in a strangled gasp, and his eyes gleaming with unveiled lust, Harry looked like a sex god, sprawled out across the dark sheets that complimented his fair complexion. His unruly hair fell in wild disarray around his face, the strands clinging to his skin with a layer of sweat glittering like diamond beads on a bed of onyx silk. Every time the teenager breathed, blood pumped through his body and fueled the healthy flush beginning to color his skin, a color Voldemort found very fetching on his moaning lover.

"You….you're beautiful too," Harry smirked at him, desperately wanting to caress the flawless face. Restored to his former youth, Voldemort had a regal appearance, what with his sculpted face and silky hair, hair that was neatly trimmed and fell in slight waves down to his neck. The red eyes were the only thing that set him apart from the Tom Riddle he'd once been, but Harry was rather fond of the glowing irises. They were a perfect compliment to his stunning green.

"Am I now? You've said so in the past, but never in the throes of pleasure, little serpent. Tell me, does my beauty arouse you," the silkened words fell from pale lips, lips that teasingly began to kiss the planes of his chest. Harry felt his veins ignite with pleasure when Voldemort hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pajama bottoms and slowly began to tug them down, pulling his boxers with them. "Does it?"

Harry managed a weak smile. "Everything about you arouses me, Tom. Your beauty, your power….."

The hand lightly caressed his heated flesh, and a loud gasp fell from his lips. Voldemort sneered at him and wrapped his fingers around the boy's cock, gently squeezing the pulsing member and sliding it alongst the precum stained skin. "Ahhh….you--your touch," Harry moaned.

"Does it now? Is everything about me arousing, little serpent?" Leaning down, Voldemort kissed his open mouth, slipping his tongue briefly into the hot cavern. "Then the same applies to you, for I find that every bit of you is overwhelmingly desirable."

Suddenly, the hand on his cock stilled, and Harry wearily shook his head, expelling the hazy, lust filled shadows from his mind. Voldemort was gazing down at him, but the controlled, dictating nature had vanished from his piercing gaze. Now a wild, savage sort of glint swirled in the red depths, a familiar look that he'd seen often enough. "You want me…" he purred.

"You know me all to well, my serpent."

Voldemort grinned at him, and Harry barely had time to think before his mouth was being ravished. Brutally, a moist tongue traced over his and dueled with his own, heated flesh brushing heated flesh as Voldemort grabbed the boy's hips and pressed himself onto the slighter form. Saliva connected their lips when the older male leaned up and kissed the peak of Harry's chest, black hair messily shrouding his face. Smirking at him, he scooted down the body and, kissing the velvety skin, flicked his tongue out and stroked the salty, precum soaked cock standing proudly between the teen's thighs.

"Aghh--oh fuck--Tom!"

Harry snaked his fingers through Voldemort's hair and held on tight, his body shuddering as a warm mouth descended onto his member and began sucking. "Tom….fuck! Nnff, you--" he shook his head, throwing his hair raggedly around his face and blushing, his legs falling from their perch around Voldemort's hips and collapsing onto the bed.

Grinning, Voldemort drew his mouth away and wrapped his fingers around the base of the pulsing cock. Reaching up with his free hand, he detangled the fingers lodged in his hair and brought the hand to his mouth, his canines scraping the tender underside of Harry's wrist. "Little serpent…you sound so pretty. But we're not through yet." He smirked, dropping the teenager's hand and gently began tapping his fingertips. The years they'd spent together were apparently useful, because the boy instantly understood and parted his lips, taking the digits into his mouth. Harry sucked on the fingers, coating them in a liberal amount of saliva. Obviously, Voldemort could've just used a spell to lubricate him, but sometimes the man enjoyed doing it naturally. This was one of those times.

Mischievously, Harry bit down on a knuckle and smirked when the man hissed, red eyes dangerously narrowing into annoyed slits. Licking the wound, he swept his tongue beneath and in between the tangy planes of skin, all the while reaching out and scraping his nails down Voldemort's chest, drawing pink marks on the alabaster flesh.

"You're enjoying yourself a tad too much, Harry."

"Mmm? What makes you say that," Harry pulled the fingers out of his mouth, a teasing smile toying his lips. "I'd say you're the one who has a little too much fun, Tom."

Chuckling, Voldemort pulled his hand back and slipped it between Harry's legs, pushing the pale limbs farther apart with his knee. "Perhaps. But you love it." His lubricated fingers skimmed the entrance at the apex of the boy's thighs, caressing the stretched skin with sensitive brushes. Watching his face, Voldemort slid a finger into the passage, groaning as the tight warmth surrounded it. Harry moaned and pushed his hips up, forcing the digit deeper inside him and making him cry out. "My little serpent. You're so impatient. I should punish you, but I'm in a particularly magnanimous mood." Another finger slipped inside him, stretching the passage. They scissored and Harry let out a soft cry, his hands desperately grasping the silken sheets and entwining them between his fingers.


His cock painfully lurching, Harry gazed up at the leering man and started to say something, but his words dissolved into a strangled scream when fingertips slammed against his prostate, rubbing the tender bundle of nerves. "Ahh--aghh! Tom--mmm--"

"Enough of this." Voldemort jerked his fingers out of their tight sheath and wandlessly removed his pants.

Harry stared at the impressive erection standing between his lover's thighs and smirked. Reaching out, he ran his fingertips alongst the heated flesh and murmured, "I agree. Go ahead, Tom…." he slipped the hand up Voldemort's chest and wrapped his arm around the wizard's neck, digging his fingers into the hair draping the nape of his neck. "Show me what you've got."

"That cheekiness of yours will cost you, my serpent." Voldemort licked the shell of his ear, and Harry let out a cry as he was speared by the man's thick, long cock. His insides pleasurably tingled, the heated flesh rubbing his inner walls and slickening the tight passage. "So tight…has it really been so long? Harry, my little serpent," Voldemort thrusted his hips forward, and he brushed a kiss over the teenager's lips, breathing in the heady scent of sex in the air. Gasping, Harry wrapped his legs around Voldemort's waist and screamed as his prostate was roughly jabbed, the dripping head of Voldemort's member rubbing the tender nerves.

"Tom! You feel--so good," he panted. "Go faster!"

"Mmmm…." giving the boy a ferocious smile, Voldemort pulled out and, grabbing Harry's thighs, jerked the legs onto his shoulders. "I suppose I can do that." Giving him a wicked smile, he thrusted back into the slick passage up to the hilt, skin slapping against skin with every jerk of his hips. Screaming in delight, Harry fell back onto the bed as he was roughly assaulted by the man's cock. Digging his fingers into the sheets, his back arched as another jab was delivered to his prostate, a moan falling from his lips. "Does that suffice, little serpent?"

"Fuck yes!"

Smirking triumphantly, Voldemort snaked his fingers through the boy's hair and jerked his head to the side, sinking his teeth into the spot and sucking the revealed skin as he slammed in and out. When Harry's legs started slipping from their perch on his shoulders, he pulled out and flipped the boy onto his stomach, barely giving him time adjust before pushing back in to the warm sheath. Sprawled on his hands and knees, Harry hissed a guttural shriek and glanced over his shoulder, throwing the man a dark smile. Red eyes pierced his and Voldemort ripped his fingernails into the tender flesh of his hips, tugging him back and pushing himself deeper. "Harry….my beautiful, intoxicating serpent. You have no idea how much I care for you."

"Huh?" It was so surprising to hear the Dark Lord say such things that Harry barely noticed his lapse into English. "You---you care for me? Does that mean you--you love me?!"

"I consider love too mediocre a word to describe what I feel for you, but I suppose it'll have to do," Voldemort grinned, jerking his hips forward. "I never imagined that I would feel so strongly for you, little serpent, but I suppose there's a first time for everything." Reaching around, he encircled Harry's member with his fingers and pumped the hot, sticky flesh in time with his thrusts, each one growing more ragged and out of time as he felt himself warningly throbbing. "Harry…"

"To--Tom, I'm--"

Sliding out of the tight passage, Voldemort laid a kiss on the nape of his lover before thrusting back in and spilling himself into the panting teen, his hot juices warming Harry's stretched, slicked insides. Harry came a second later, white fluid squirting over his lover's hand and dripping onto the bed. Removing his hand, Voldemort licked at the salty cum and wrapped an arm around the panting teenager, pulling him with him as he rolled off him and onto his side. Leaning over the tired brunette, he smirked down at him and admired the flushed cheeks and sweaty hairs clinging to Harry's brow, a prideful gleam entering his ruby eyes.

"You--you're too much," Harry sighed, reaching between his legs and grimacing when his fingers came away stained with white fluid.

"And you wouldn't want it any other way," Voldemort finished, bringing the hand to his mouth and sweeping his tongue over the sticky fingers. "My serpent, I don't believe that I have ever been this satisfied."

"Not even when you took me in front of Dumbledore? I thought that would be one of your favorite moments."

Pondering that for a few moments, Voldemort finally shook his head and gave the boy a wicked half smile. "It is one of our more memorable occasions together, considering it was your first time, but never have I been more pleased than I was today. I have the world at my feet, and I have you. Nothing else could compare, my serpent."

His cheeks burned at that, and Harry felt himself shiver when spidery fingers brushed across his jaw, barely grazing the outline of his lips. "The darkest hours of my life were when Dumbledore had you beneath his thumb. He never appreciated the beauty and intelligence that you possess, my serpent. Not like I do." Clamping down on his jaw, Voldemort pushed him onto his back and swept his tongue across the bruised lips, letting out a soft groan when Harry lightly nipped his bottom lip and licked the minute wound. "No one could ever feel for you as I do."

"Then the same applies to you," Harry slid his arm around the man's neck and pulled him down on top of him, Voldemort's body a comforting weight. "I would gladly die if it meant preserving your safety, Tom."

"Don't say such ludicrous things, my serpent. I cannot die, therefore giving your life would be a menial task. And you will not die either. Not if I have my way."

Frowning slightly, Harry started to say something, but Voldemort shushed him by laying a finger on his lips, a knowing smile curling his lips. "Don't concern yourself with it now, Harry. We have all the time in the world to discuss such matters." Leaning up on his elbows, Voldemort peered at him with crimson eyes that were unusually lively, not their usual pools of stony red. "My serpent….the day you came to me, my motives were twisted. I wanted nothing more than to use you against the light."

"And I wanted to use you for revenge. Even then, we were one and the same." Harry smirked and lightly fingered a strand of satiny hair curtaining Voldemort's face. "What's important now is that we're together, the two greatest wizards to ever grace history."

"Arrogance is unbecoming in those who don't deserve it, little serpent," Voldemort hissed.

"And we don't?"

Slightly stunned, Voldemort broke out into faint laughter, his low voice rumbling as he brushed a possessive kiss over Harry's lips. "Do you regret anything?"

That made him pause. Did he regret anything? His friends and Dumbledore were the ones to betray him, both determined to see him die in order to preserve their existence and to defeat the dark. But, he became a traitor when he joined Voldemort, and it was by his hand that his friends were slaughtered and their blood spilled. He remembered all too well the looks on their faces when he told them that he had joined the dark. He remembered their anger, anger at his trying to save himself. The disgust on Ron and Hermione's faces tore at his heart, but it also fueled his anger, bringing forth the dark magic that swirled inside him. Whether it was from the bond with Voldemort, or an origin he was unaware of, Harry had used the dark magic and mercilessly cast the crucio on them countless times, until they were nothing more than bodies with broken minds. Only then had he showed mercy and delivered the Avada Kedavra. And Dumbledore….Harry smirked, the vivid image of the man watching in horror as Voldemort took him for the first time playing in his mind. To see the shock and pain on the old man's face had brought around a sick, twisted sense of pleasure inside him. Maybe while he watched, Dumbledore realized the pain that Harry had felt, the betrayal when he discovered that the only reason he had lived was to be delivered as a sacrificial lamb.


Shaken out of his thoughts, Harry glanced up at the pale, beautiful face of his lover of two years and smiled. "No. I don't regret anything." Reaching up, he brushed a hand over Voldemort's cheek and swept his fingers through the perfectly cut hair, luxuriously silky against his skin. "How can I? I have you."

"Yes you do, my serpent. And, just as I am yours, you are mine. Now and forever."

As warm lips pressed to his own, Harry moaned and snaked his arms around Voldemort's neck, holding the man tight against him. No matter the past, he could never give up what he had gained. The darkest hours of his life were gone, replaced with an eternity of happiness that he'd always dreamed was beyond his reach. And no one could take it away from him. The betrayal of his friend, of Dumbledore, was nothing more than a distant memory. In a way, he was somewhat grateful. Without their treachery, he never would've escaped the hell that he'd been thrown into at his birth.

Voldemort was all he needed. Now and forever.

"The dark hours are over, Tom. They were over the day I met you. Really met you."

"And I you, little serpent."

Well, that's the end of that. I hope you guys didn't waste ten minutes of your time and actually enjoyed this, my first Harry Potter fanfiction. Please review and tell me your thoughts. Criticism is definitely welcome, though don't be too hard on me J

Later guys! And happy hunting for more delicious HPxLV fanfics!