Alright, this is not my first story, but it's only my second one ever posting on here. MAJOR WARNING, so listen up:
DARK!HARRY Dumbledore!BASHING
HOT AND STEAMY SLASH, OR GUYXGUY
VOLDEMORT/HARRY

If you have any problem with any of these things, are too young or too immature to read this, go away.
That's what the back button is for. I don't need flamers, and I promise you, I'm not gonna give a rats butt
if you don't like my writing or this pairing. Cuz for every one of you, there is at least four that do.

Disclaimer: I do not own this, or any of the characters. And even though I do in fact own these books, I do not own the rights to any of them.
So go bother JK Rowling for making this pairing so scrumptious if you got a problem with it.

Harry moaned as white fingers trailed down his torso, crimson eyes blinking at him knowingly. Pale and tan chests were bare, though pants still hung loosely around both males' hips. Harry moaned as the older male drug their constricted erections together. One pale hand paused to play with a perk nipple, fueling the fire that burned through his veins. The other hand continued down, to hook in the waist of Harry's pants. The boy's breath hitched and caught in his throat. Red eyes seemed to sparkle with dangerous delight. A snakelike tongue flicked out to lick behind the dark haired boy's ear, sending shivers down the teen's spine. "Do you want it?"

Harry whined as the man played with the waistline of his pants, teasing him. His hands knitted into the sheets, and his hips bucked upward in order to get more friction. The crimson eyed man chuckled and said in his ear, "Answer me, Harry. Answer your Master." Harry whined but didn't reply, and thin fingers began to play with the button and zipper of his jeans, doing nothing more than teasing him. "Tell me what you want, Harry, and it's yours. Tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Oh, Harry wanted it. There was nothing more he wanted more than for the fire burning through his body to be alleviated. "Yes… yes, I want it…" A cruel and seductive smile played across the pale face.

"What is it you want?" Harry mewled, squirming under the man.

"You… I want you..." With a grin the man pressed their lips together, his fingers nimbly unzipped and unbuttoned Harry's pants, pulling them down and off to reveal his erection. The nude teen shifted self-consciously under the unwavering gaze of the man. He shivered in anticipation as the red eyed man moved down his chest, his fingers playing with his hips. The man grinned just as he reached Harry's member, and he opened his mouth to engulf Harry in delicious, hot pleasure…

Harry woke up panting, body slick from a cold-sweat, his face flushed as he remembered his dream. 'What the hell?! Was I just dreaming of Tom Riddle sucking me off?' With a furious blush he realized that the dream had left him excited and aching, and he needed to take care of a problem. Muttering curses under his breath, Harry slid out of his bed and tip-toed out his door, walking quietly to the bathroom.

He thanked the heavens for the Dursleys being such heavy sleepers as he turned on the water in the shower. He pushed off his too-big boxers, stepping into the hot water, shivering as it ran down his body. He leaned back against the cold tile, and his hand instantly went to his aching member. As he brought himself to completion he tried to imagine it was anybody—Ginny, Hermione, anyone—other than the Dark Lord. Somehow he couldn't accomplish that feat.

Therefore it was Tom Riddle's name he moaned and screamed, spilling his seed over himself. He blinked away the spots in his vision, sighing exasperatedly at himself. "Damn it." He washed his seed off, running his now clean hands through his messy hair. Harry turned off the water and dried off, walking barefoot across the cold hardwood floors of the hall back to his room, where he sank down on his bed without bothering to put clothes on. His brilliant green eyes hadn't even fully closed when he heard,

"My, my, Harry. You've been a very naughty boy." Said teen flew up in bed, the thin sheets pooling around his hips. His breathing was slightly elevated as he watched the man from his dreams step out from the shadows in his room. He looked like the same Tom Riddle that came out of the diary in his 2nd year, only older with vibrant red eyes. "Dreaming about very grown up things, much too mature for a young boy like you."

The man with crimson eyes watched Harry go from surprised to fearful to guilty and even a little bit mad. He licked his lips hungrily, something that the teen didn't catch. The boy did catch his eyes raking over his naked, built body. He lowered his gaze and shifted uncomfortably as Tom drew ever nearer, backing up hesitantly. He didn't realize that as he did so that he was backing out of the sheets covering him.

Suddenly Riddle was straddling him, pressing their bodies together. Harry's voice died in his throat and all he could do was stare, quivering, at the man. His breath tickled Harry's face as he said, "You shouldn't be dreaming about something so mature. After all, you are much too young to know anything about those things." He was being dreadfully mean, teasing and picking on Harry like that.

Harry found his voice, "I am not too young to be having wet dreams, you creep! And for your information, I do know quite a few things about those things, Voldemort." An evil, demented grin spread across the man's face when he heard that.

"Now, Harry, that's now way to speak to your elders, nor your seme. That is, if you know what exactly you are talking and/or dreaming about. Which I highly doubt." With a wicked insane look in his eyes he pressed their nether regions together. He chuckled in a tan ear when he heard the teen let out a loud moan.

"I… do… too know…" Harry's hands knitted into the sheets, trying and failing to ignore the tightening in his loins. Not that it helped when the Dark Lord reached down to fondle him through the sheets. He moaned and whined, wriggling under Voldemort's touch. "Oh... God..." The man leaned down, his lips touching Harry's, but not kissing.

"Do you like that?" he grinned as Harry's body bucked against his will. He watched as the boy blushed as he got hard. "Why, I believe you do. Do you want more?" Harry bit his lip, shaking his head though he knew it wasn't true. This was his enemy! The man who killed, manipulated, lied! This was the man he was prophesized to kill. He had killed his parents, for God's sake! Here that man was, offering Harry sex.

Voldemort pressed their lips together, igniting a fire that raged through the adolescent's body. Harry's hands flew up to knot in the man's hair, his back arching, pressing their bodies together. "God..." When Harry moaned that Voldemort slipped his tongue inside, melting the boy's innards. 'Why am I supposed to hate him again?' He whimpered softly as long, thin fingers trailed down his stomach, teasing his pert nipples.

The man rocked their hips together, saying in Harry's ear, "Do you want more? Hm, Harry? Just say the word, and it's all yours." He grinned wickedly before kissing Harry again. The contact brought tingles of pleasure to the boy, and his body felt as though it was slowly and in the most tortured way possibly imaginable throguh his body, having him crying and aching with need. He bit his cheek to prevent himself from crying out and begging, trying to keep some pride.

Finally, the pressure was just too much. The fire, the need, he needed more. Rocking his hips back against the man's he mewled, "M-more..." Voldemort grinned, reaching down to pull the only thing obstructing his view of the teen. Giving him two more kisses, he pulled away to take in the beauty of his soon-to-be lover. What he saw took his breath away.

Harry blinked his emerald eyes innocently at him. His hands were curled by his head, and he chewed his red, puffy lips self consciously. His body, though Voldemort had previously thought was built, lacked true muscle, as his were the kind one had when one's diet didn't suffice. The man licked his lips, leaning down to capture the teen's lips once more, grinding their growing erections together.

Harry's hands fumbled with the buttons on the man's shirt, growling softly when he couldn't unbutton the shirt fast enough. He knew he should be ashamed, disgusted by this, but for some reason he couldn't be. He needed an outlet. An outlet for being everyone's scapegoat, for being everyone's hero, their go-to guy. He needed to forget Hermione and her know-it-all-ness, along with Ron and his why-are-you-so-much-better-than-me-because-I-am-better-than-you-ness. He needed to escape Dumbledore and the way he twisted everyone for his liking, how he had the world under his fingers. He needed to escape the way he was the crooked man's puppet, to escape and hide from it all...

And Tom was the perfect way.

Harry groaned as Voldemort leaned back, slipping off his shirt with a lustful stare at the boy under him. He leaned back down, pressing his constricted erection to Harry's freed one. His tan fingers moved down to tug on the baggy pants, keen to get them off. The man smirked and chuckled, saying softly, "My, my, eager, Harry?"

The teen mewled as the man rocked their hips together. He ran his fingers up to knit in the dark hair as pale fingers outlined the muscles in his chest. The feelings were unlike anything he had ever experienced before, the touch of the one who understood him most, understood him more than any other person in the world ever could. The touch soothed an ache he didn't know he had, appeasing his soul just as it set him ablaze, his skin itching and yearning for more.

"Harry, what do you want, my little serpent? My little Chosen One?" A tremor slid down his spine with the silky words whispered in his ear. His nails dug into pale shoulders, droplets of crimson beauty beading under his fingertips. The tan male's back arched as teeth dug none too gently into his neck, leaving a soft red mark behind, a love bite, a claim.

A groan slipped from between his lips, "Vol—" The teeth returned, sharper this time, invoking pain as a punishment. He gave a shudder at the dominating action, the body above him, the feeling of submission coursing through him.

"Speak in the language that only you and I know. Speak so only I can understand." Harry felt his member throb at the words, the very thought, the idea of the two having their very own language. It was true, the only two in the world who could understand were the two in the upstairs bedroom of Number 4, Privet Drive, no one else in the world. The thought excited him, giving him goose bumps, only proving to him more that his archrival was the only one who could ever understand him fully.

A cool hand wrapped around the teen's erect and sensitive member, stealing a hiss from his throat, the sound earning him a moan from the only other Parselmouth alive. "Tom…" The hiss that answered in Harry's ear sounded an awful lot like a growl, accompanied by a particularly hard squeeze, to which the green-eyed male bucked and moaned.

"You dare…" the words, each syllable sending a tremor through his body, were hissed to his lips, the closeness punctuated by the older licking his lips in the most dreadfully teasing way. Still, with sparkling eyes, the teen said with a grin,

"Yes, I dare, Tom, because I always have." The grin turned into a smirk, and Harry reached up, pulling the other down by a hand behind his neck to crash their lips together. With a hiss that could be classified as nothing but a snarl, Voldemort pushed Harry deep into the sheets, his tongue forcing its way into the other's mouth and quickly dominating the teen once again, who had no choice but to moan and take it like a man. Only once he was allowed a breath did he say, "And I always will."

This only seemed to arouse the crimson-eyed man further, who had decided that clothes were no longer necessary and unwanted. He pulled away only for a split second after crashing their lips together once again, pausing only to push Harry back again, their wonderfully nude bodies eliciting extraordinary moans from both wizards. His tore the teen's breath from his lungs, kissing him with such ferocity he made his head spin. He grinned evilly as the teen dug his fingernails into his back, leaving what he was sure were angry red marks in their wake.

Harry gasped as he felt the intrusion of a lube coated finger, gasping and twisting at the uncomfortable experience. "My Serpent, I will have you tonight. Relax, for I am eager to take what was always mine to take." The words in his ear slowly relaxed him, the soft, surprisingly gentle kisses that were placed up and down his face and neck, long, thin fingers trialing his stomach. "You are mine as you are no one else's. You are my Chosen One, my Serpent, my Prince. Mine, mine, mine, mine. No one will ever own you as I do. No one can ever dominate you as I, no one can know your flukes and weaknesses like I."

The words sent the teen's heart to flutters, his green eyes closing to the world as his domineering partner began to move the finger inside him, causing unpleasant pressure that quickly faded to gentle pleasure. Another finger was added to the first, and he unintentionally clenched tight, relaxing to Voldemort's smooth voice that was whispered so seductively in his ear with a possessive undertone. "You know that, don't you?" He nipped roughly at the other's chin, drawing his attention away from the fingers that moved methodically, slowly stretching the teen, readying him for intrusion.

"Yes, I know…Yours…I am yours forevermore…" he panted in Voldemort's ear, his hands fisted into the sheets beside him. To belong, to be owned, to not have to lead... It was a very appealing look on the rest of his life. He would be content to never, ever have to lead the fight against the Dark side ever again. He would be content to sit back, eat Muggle sweets and Treacle Tarts, and get fat for the rest of his life. But, somehow, it seemed what Voldemort was offering seemed so much better.

"Mine…" The word was hissed in his ear as he stretched his fingers apart, sending a shooting pain up his back. The man hissed softly in comfort, his other hand pumping the teen's vigilant erection. "Do you like that idea?" The teen could do nothing more than groan and nod, his head thrown back on the flattened pillow, his hands reaching up to claw deep marks into the Dark Lord's shoulders. "Well? Do you?" He insisted upon an answer, and Harry could tell he planned on removing his fingers unless he received one.

"Ugh… Yes!!! Yes…" He moaned loudly, thanking the Heavens that the Dursleys were such heavy sleepers. "Yes, Tom, it sounds positively delightFUL!!!" He screamed as Voldemort shoved his fingers deeper inside of him, brushing a bundle of nerves he hadn't known he had. "Oh bloody hell…" Voldemort grinned evilly, leaning close to drag his fangs along the teen's neck, smirking when he let out a louder moan. "Again," he murmured pleadingly, his pride not caring about how pitiful he sounded, begging at the feet-hands of a Slytherin, his worst enemy. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Again? Are you sure?" The man leaned down and licked behind his ear. "I'm not sure if your innocent little teen body can take it. After all, you are just the Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. The Savior." He growled, biting his ear. "You just might break."

Harry growled in response, jerking his head up to sink his dull teeth into the Dark Lord's collarbone. "After all that I've been through, the last thing one can call me is breakable." It irritated him, how the man thought he could just mess with him, tease him over the edge. "So, yes; Again."

The man grinned, leaning down and whispering into the green-eyed male's neck, "Very well, my little Serpent." He pushed another finger in, the third and final, pushing in deep to probe the teen's prostate with them, smirking as a loud, strangled yell escaped his lips. Yes, his Serpent was quite loud, and he very much so like that fact. "Are you content now?" He continued to stroke the organ making it nearly impossible for the teen to make a coherent sentence. He liked watching his serpent attempt to speak, only to have to words stolen from his throat at the sounds that made their way through it. That was what intense pleasure would do.

"My little serpent," he hissed at him, stretching his fingers apart and earning himself a gasp of pain. He growled at nothing, leaning forward and putting his head on the teen's shoulder, nearly gasping at the thought of the teen being around him, clamping down on him with all his might as he took one thing that had always belonged to him. The thought soon became too much, and he jerked his fingers out, and through Harry's whine he murmured a lubricating spell, then, without further ado, thrust deep inside him, stilling to let him adjust.

Harry let out a scream, throwing his head back and digging his blunt nails into Voldemort's shoulder, drawing blood to the surface. The man hissed in his ear at the feel of the teen's muscles clenching around him, and his own nails dug into the boys hips. He could barely contain himself for a full minute, and was moving before Harry had enough time to fully adjust, pulling nearly all the way only to slam all the way back in, as far as he cud go.

Green eyes rolled back in his head as he nearly screamed from the pain and pleasure, but lost his voice and breath at the feeling. "Damn…" he managed to murmur before the older man shoved all the way in again, brushing that same spot he had reached with his fingers. That was all he needed to see stars, all that he needed to cum. It splattered all over both their chest and the red eyed man growled at the feel of Harry clenching his already tight muscles around him in orgasm.

He pounded in harder and faster, gripping the other's hip to help achieve what he wanted. It didn't take long for him to follow, filling his cavity with his seed. The teen gasped at the feeling, moaning lightly as he rode out the waves of pleasure before slowing and relaxing his head on his shoulder. He chuckled darkly, laying in that position for a few minutes, still sheathed deep with Harry. "My little Serpent…" he whispered in the other's ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

"That is nothing more than a sip, a small taste of what I can give you. You belong at my side, on my side, forever, Harry. We were created to be together. I am the only one that could possibly understand you, just as you are the only one who could ever possibly understand me." He paused to look into those green eyes that were always so intense, even hazed over in spent pleasure. "Join me, my dearest Serpent. Join me and we shall conquer the world together. You and I; our names will go down as the men who changed wizarding history forever."

The teen continued to look up at him with those emerald eyes of his, quietly contemplating, his mind clouded over from the pleasure caused by the man above him. He could honestly see himself turning his back on everyone to go to the man, just leaving everyone behind. What would be so wrong with that? No one had ever cared about him; they only cared about the Savior. So why should he care about them? You shouldn't, came the hissing voice in his head, and he blinked a couple times before realizing that it was Voldemort, using Occlumency to speak to him and was reading his thoughts as well.

Slowly coming down from his pleasure high, he grimaced when the man pulled out of him, cleaning him with a spell. "I can't. I shouldn't have even done this." He was sitting up and Voldemort was smirking, standing and redressing. "This probably didn't even happen. It was probably a dream of mine, or something you sent me via our link to amuse yourself." He nodded to himself, as if confirming or attempting to convince himself.

"If that's what you are telling yourself, little one." He leaned down and deftly sank his teeth deep into the skin and tissue at the crook of the teen's neck, who let out a gasp and hiss, tensing and relaxing at the same time. "I am not content to give up, Harry, and I will have you know this fact." He stood, finishing buttoning his shirt. "You do not belong on their side, Harry. You never have, and never will. It's in your blood to be mine."

He was walking away, to the middle of the room. "I'll not stand on the sidelines and watched you get abused any longer. If someone is to abuse you, it will be me, and me alone. They have no right to do so." Harry reached up and cupped at the bite mark that was stinging his neck. In a flash, suddenly the man was in his face, shocking him and hissing, "You are mine, my Serpent, my Chosen One. You are the one I chose, I am the one that chose you. You are mine." He punctuated his last word, getting ever closer to his face until he disappeared with a loud crack, leaving no trace that he had been there, only an irritated wound and a burning scar.

'Great,' the teen thought with a grimace. He already had one mark from the man that had killed his parents, he didn't need another one. He didn't need a reminder who had 'chosen' him. He knew. He never forgot it.

Grumbling to himself, he rolled over and fell asleep, tossing and turning in his sleep as he dreamt of a wolf with Dumbledore's face, a bird with Hermione's voice, and a slug that carried a dancing broken wand, all yelling and screaming at him.