Author's Note: I'm about to publish my first book!
Disclaimer: For the zillionth time, no!
Warning: Language. Violence. Slash. Non-slash. (Male/Female)
Rodolphus, for a split second, didn't know what was going on. And then he realized what Sirius was doing, and quickly complied. Keeping his focus on the wand and curse flowing from him was hard, but Rodolphus managed, at the same time delving into Sirius's magic. The dark, formerly untouched Black magic flowed over him like a waterfall of power. That power didn't go to waste. His curse flared from the new boost of energy, overpowering Bellatrix's with ease. Now, on a normal day, Rodolphus would have just blew her away and taken her to the Dark Lord so that he could deal with her. This was no normal day. This day, Sirius's lips were pressed against his own in a chaste yet extremely passionate kiss, and not even the Dark Lord himself could stop Rodolphus from issuing the killing curse. As soon as she dropped, Sirius jerked away, but Rodolphus jerked him back.
"Rudy!" The word was a muffled plea against Rodolphus's lips, but the brown eyed pureblood wasn't about to listen. He had been waiting for this for nearly two decades now. Nothing Sirius could say or do would stop him. Moments later when Rodolphus slammed Sirius against the wall, clothes already dropping like flies, he realized that protesting was the last thing on Sirius's mind.
Harry looked at Draco's motionless form with saddened eyes. Whatever Snape had done it had saved Draco's life, but not in the way that the teacher had obviously planned. Truthfully, Harry had been shocked to be called down to the potions room, but seeing this, it all made sense. Snape had used his potion to stop the young Malfoy from dying, but he had done it too late. Only the body was saved. As green stared empathetically down at blank grey, he knew that Draco's soul was long gone.
"How did this happen?" What would make Snape so desperate as to use his potion?
"Lucius bated him into coming to rescue me, and he didn't stand a chance. Draco is only a boy." A full minute after that statement, deep, near black orbs ripped themselves from Draco and moved to Harry. "Potter, I know that I've never given you a reason to help me, and if I were in your position then I would turn and walk away, but I'm begging you. Please help him." If someone had told, well, anyone that one day Severus Snape would be down on his knees, pleading for Harry Potter's help, he or she would be sent to St. Mungos right next to Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom. Yet here they were. "I know you can." Harry blinked at that. He could, but it would risk his life in the process and there was a possibility that too much time had passed. There were so many unknown variables that the idea could be labeled as nothing more than stupid.
"No," An almost heartbroken expression slipped onto Snape's face before it was covered, "you wouldn't leave me if you had the chance. So, neither will I. Stay here." Harry rushed over to the hidden compartment in the stone wall, opening it to reveal Snape's secret stash of potion ingredients. Dark irises questioned Harry's knowledge of the compartment, but tight lips never moved to ask. A small piece of yarn was found at the very back, black and grey and white pieces of string twisted together for two inches only. Harry never thought that he would have to use it, especially not when he put it there so many years ago. With slow movements to make sure he got it right, Harry untwisted the string half an inch. For two people who truly loved each other, he had to.
Pressing his forefinger and thumb together around the still connected end of the strings, Harry watched as the three strings of the unwound end grew longer than he was, encasing him in an ovular cage. Moments later a semi-transparent force field connected the pieces of string, and Harry's soul was released from his body. Already, the white string was beginning to burn, showing that his time was running out. Quickly he looked around, tracing Draco's magical signature out and away, through the walls and ceiling, out to the Quidditch pitch.
"I'm dead, aren't I?" The blonde didn't sound sad, just slightly solemn.
"Not quite. Snape saved you, but if you don't get back you may as well be." Draco glanced over to Harry, eyes dull without the emotions which life had provided for him. He was clearly beginning to fade away, into the Nether Realm.
"Are you dead, too?" The spirit completely ignored Harry's earlier statement.
"No, but that won't last long either. Look at me, Draco. You have to go back. Snape needs you." Flickering grey orbs focus solely on Harry.
"Who's Snape?" His memory was vanishing with his spirit, telling Harry that he needed to hurry.
"Severus. Your lover. You need to get back to him." Slowly, Draco's feet started to vanish beneath him, disintegrating into nothing with ease.
"I need to catch the snitch." His memory was fading fast, the most important things first. Harry held out his hand as a peace offering, feeling the first piece of sting cease to exist beside of his body, the only thing stopping his heart from failing and him from passing on.
"Come with me and you'll be able to catch it." Harry's words only seemed to confuse Draco.
"Catch what?" As Draco faded up to the knees, Harry stopped being nice and simply grabbed onto his arm. They had to hurry.
"This way." Then he began to fly, dragging Draco along with him. As soon as they reached the dungeons, Harry saw the grey string disappear. In just sixty seconds, the black one would follow. A Draco existed from only the waist up, Harry brought him towards his body.
"Who's that?" Harry wasn't sure whether Draco was speaking about the blonde's own body or Snape, and he didn't care.
"Touch your hand." There had to be contact.
"My hand?" The unsure touch in the young Malfoy's tone left Harry frowning. Nothing but arrogance belonged in Draco's voice.
"Touch the blonde's hand. Please." There was less than half of the black string left. Ever so slowly, the blonde reached out, hand tentatively moving towards its counterpart. Without warning, before his time ran out, he was forced back into his body. Harry took in a gulp of air, wondering why this had happened. Two slim fingers were the response. Hermione had stopped the final string from burning out. She gave him a smile in return for his surprised stare. Another gasp resounded throughout the room as Draco awoke from what could have been an eternal slumber had Harry waited any longer to retrieve him.
"Severus?" But Snape didn't answer as Harry looked over, simply hugged a confused Draco to his chest.
"Thank you." Those two soft words were all Harry needed before he threaded his and Hermione's hands together and walked out of the room. Blaise met them on the other side. Dark brown orbs traveled from Hermione to Harry to their intertwined fingers.
"May I cut in?" Blaise sounded polite, but Harry could hear the threat in his voice. With a grin, he stepped away from Hermione, slipping both of his hands into his pockets.
"You may." The only female in the group giggled at Harry's releasing words before slipping her arm into the crook of Blaise's offered arm. A quick wave was all that the Savior of the Wizarding World got before the Slytherin swept his best friend off her feet and walked away. Harry gave them a few seconds, at most, before their relationship became official.
"What are you doing down here?" Ron's voice almost made Harry flinch, but he repressed the urge and turned to face the redhead.
"Snape wanted to see me about my potion." A spark of hatred lit Ron's eyes for a moment, but it seemed different from the usual spite from hearing Snape's name. Harry shook it off as his imagination. In strange times like this, he was bound to have a slip-up or two.
Ron couldn't stand the warmth in Harry's eyes. They needed to be as blank as Ginny's. He needed to die.
"I see." What else was he supposed to say? "Sorry about earlier." A lie or two would help in the end. "You want to go for a quick fly around the pitch? You know, for old times' sake?" If there was one thing that Ron knew for sure, it was that Harry could never pass up a chance to fly. A warm smile lit the savior's that almost made Ron regret his treachery. Almost. His sister was far more important than this fake.
"Sure. Just let me get my-" Ron cut Harry off, knowing that he couldn't allow Harry to go anywhere but the pitch if he wanted to save Ginny.
"No!" At the strange look green eyes were giving him, Ron quickly covered his tracks. "I mean, we could just use some of the school's brooms. It's almost time to eat anyways, and Gryffindor Tower is a long way away." Fortunately, his once best friend seemed to buy the excuse and nodded. Ron held back the urge to sigh. His only job was to get Harry to the Quidditch pitch, to Dumbledore, and he had almost blew it.
"Mother." Draco was confused as to why Narcissa was in the Potions Lab, and with Remus Lupin, no less. She, in a very un-Malfoy-like manner, rushed towards Draco, sweeping him from Severus's arms as a response. The young Malfoy hesitated. "Mother?" Was she under some type of hex? And where was his father? Draco had went against him in hopes of saving Severus, but he remembered very little about their meeting, and none of this was helping.
"It's good to see that Severus was able to help you after all." Grey eyes looked up from Narcissa to Remus to Severus. The man slowly stood from his chair, which he had pulled Draco into as well moments after the blonde's awakening, and shook his head.
"I prolonged his death. Your Godson is the one who saved him." For a second, Draco could honestly admit to himself that he was completely and totally confused. After that, he was sure that he knew exactly what was going on, it was only a little fuzzy. All he needed was some clarification.
"Potter? And since when was I dying?" Patience had never been one of Draco's virtues.
"Lucius nearly killed you in his quest for power, Draco." Grey eyes widened, darting back to his mother. The silent question wasn't missed. "He got what he deserved." Surprisingly, the hit of losing his father wasn't monumental. He had a lover. He had a mother. He had…
"Professor Lupin?" Draco didn't look up to meet amber orbs as he spoke. "What are your intentions?" There was a spark between the werewolf and his mother that Draco hadn't seen between his biological parents in many years. He needed to know how far that spark was going to go.
"My intentions?" No one answered the obviously rhetorical question as Lupin hummed. "I'm not quite sure. I would enjoy taking you and your mother out to dinner one of these days, if you wouldn't mind, but that's about as far as I've gotten. Sirius taught me long ago that, when it comes to the most important things in life, the best plan is no plan at all." A moment passed before Draco finally looked up. Amber orbs shone with sincerity.
"Would you mind if Severus joined us?" Draco had more than most people did, but he had to make sure it was a stable foundation.
"Of course I wouldn't." The warm smile on the ex-teacher's face gave Draco a sort of reassurance that his father never could have, and the grin which spread across the eighteen-year-old's face was unstoppable.
"Then I have no choice but to tell you how famished almost dying apparently makes you." His mother's arms tightened around him as Lupin let out a soft chuckle and Severus took a step forward. Everything was going to be fine.
The Dark Lord had what some would call an anti-social personality disorder. In other words, he hated people. Harry Potter, however, did not count as a people. He couldn't because Tom very much liked Harry Potter. The boy had actually beaten him – which would never happen again since Tom would never underestimate Harry again – and then let him go. Tom would have killed him on the spot. Truly, Harry Potter was Tom Marvolo Riddle's opposite in every way.
Where Tom was cruel, Harry was kind. Where Harry preferred a peace treaty, Tom preferred a brutal Massacre. Where Tom was strong, Harry was weak. Physically, that was. Then again, Harry's physical attributes were what drew Tom to him in the first place. The lithe, lightly toned body which was always twisting just out of his grasp, teasing in its beautiful intensity was always haunting Tom when he closed his eyes, but that wouldn't be so for long. Soon, Harry's naked form wouldn't just be a figment of Tom's imagination, but a reality, sweating and pleading for release beneath him. Forever. The more Tom thought about it, the more Tom warmed to Harry becoming immortal. The young man was undeniably loyal to his circle of friends, which Tom seemed quite close to entering, proving that he wouldn't be betrayed at any point in time. In fact, he was close to surpassing that circle. Harry, whether he would admit it or not, belonged to Tom. It just wasn't the way he had meant it at first. There was complete and total ownership, but Harry had a say in things. His dueling proved that.
A small frown curled on perfect lips as Tom thought about having an equal, but there was really no other way around it. Magically, they were going to be equals. Mentally, Harry could be trained. Physically—the frown turned to a smirk – Harry would never quite measure up to Tom, but that was alright. They didn't need to match. Tom was the dominant one in this relationship. Still, the hunt was on, and the Dark Lord had never been one to keep his prey waiting, especially when his prize was sure to be an extremely satisfying roll in the hay with the Savior of the Wizarding World. With Harry on his side, the Ministry would surrender, and his only threat would be Dumbledore, but the old fool was slipping. He would be easy to defeat given the correct circumstances. The way that Tom was progressing, nothing would be able to stop him.
By normal standards, it was time for dinner. By Tom's standards, it was time to hunt. Finally, the smirk twisted into a devilishly wicked grin. He had to catch his meal first. With a flourish in his step, the immortal man stood and downed the rest of his wine. Tonight was going to be fun.
"You really should hurry, you know." Crimson orbs trailed over to Jackary Salem. A bored brow cocked at the sight. He hadn't seen the demon in years.
"And why, pray tell, might that be?" Lips turned downwards slightly at the 'pray tell' part of Tom's question. Jackary never had been very amused with Tom's jokes.
"The green-eyed mortal is about to die." No clarification on who the demonic man was speaking of was needed. A snarl rushed onto Tom's face. He leaves the boy alone for five seconds and he's already in a life-or-death situation. Again. "It's Albus." Hands curled into fists at the sides of the Dark Lord, but he didn't run to save his soon to be lover. Jackary Salem was a high level demon, and they didn't do things for free.
"What do you want?" What was the catch? Finally, a smirk slipped onto normally still lips.
"In your new world order, leave Adrian Nathaniel Linkhouse alone. Fighting you to be sure of his safety is an option, but he doesn't enjoy bloodshed quite as much as you or I." Tom could hardly believe that all he had to do was promise the safety of a single boy. "His soul already belongs to me, I just want to keep his body well while it exists." But that didn't answer Tom's question.
"How is that an equal exchange?" Tom got the better end of the deal by far.
"I gave you what you need to make your loved one happy. You're going to give me what I need to do the same." Crimson never wavered as Tom stared the demon down. He had summoned Jackary so long ago that the man – if you could call him that – had almost slipped from his memory, but there he was.
"I don't love him." It was lust, plain and simple. Fire licked at the Salem's feet, signaling that he was about to depart.
"Don't you?" But Jackary was gone before Tom could attest that no, he did not, in fact, love Harry. In the long run that was probably a good thing. Tom wasn't so sure he would be able to deny it as vehemently as he wanted to.
Albus didn't bat an eyelash as he cast the killing curse on Ronald Weasley. The boy was a loose end, and he couldn't afford to leave any of those untied before beginning his new life. He would be Ash Faremount in just a few minutes, all thanks to Ronald Weasley. Well, Harry Potter played quite a role in the matter as well.
"Why?" Even if he didn't understand it just yet.
"You see, Harry, my boy, I can't afford to die. The world needs me too much, but I can't live on my own, either. My magic isn't pure enough to sustain my body." Albus waited for Harry to fill in the blanks. It didn't take long.
"You want mine." Such a simplistic response from such a simplistic boy.
"It's for the Greater Good. All you have to do is give me your permission and drink this." Old hands held up a small vile with sparkling violet liquid inside. Harry didn't jump at the prospect.
"I think I would rather not." Albus couldn't help but chuckle at the boys unease, simply waving his wand to the left to make Harry change his mind. "Joshua!" Panic that the Headmaster had never heard before surfaced in the young man's voice, and that was before the elder wizard held the small orphan at wand point.
"It's for the Greater Good." If nothing else, Harry had to understand that much. "Would you like a cup of tea?" The underlying question was obvious, but Albus wasn't about to let the little one know what was going on. He could be an important pawn in the future. Ever so slowly, Harry nodded, lowering the wand which he had pulled out the moment Albus had raised his at the same time.
"Wonderful." Another wave of his wand, just barely missing nicking Joshua's neck, and a cup of tea was floating in front of Albus.
"Harry?" Twinkling blue eyes looked down at the small child while one hand uncorked the vile, pouring every last drop of its contents into the tea. "Harry what's goin' on?" The slurred words brought a smile to Albus's face. "Why can't I move?" He sounded wary, but not scared. That was probably because Harry was there though.
"You'll be able to move in just a little bit, Joshua. I promise. Do you remember that girl I was telling you about?" Harry paused both to see Joshua nod and to stare at the tea. Albus smiled, loving it when a plan came together. "Be nice to her, okay?" That was all the young man said before downing the contents of the dainty cup and allowing it to crash to the ground. Albus paused for a second, holding back the spell which would begin the transfer of power.
"Would you like to hear a bit of irony?" Harry didn't respond. Joshua started to cry. Albus went on. "If you had stayed away just an hour longer then I wouldn't have gotten to you in time, and you would be immortal. Isn't that funny?" He wouldn't cut it so close next time. Harry just stared. The incantation was silent as Albus cast it, relishing the feel of the seams keeping Harry together flowing towards him.
"Harry!" Joshua's shout was accompanied by a powerful burst of magic; dark magic.
"What have I told you about touching my things, Albus? We went through this when I opened the Chamber of Secrets so long ago, didn't we?" Blue eyes, no longer twinkling, swiveled over to see Tom Marvolo Riddle in all of his glory. His voice was calm. His stance was calm. His magic was furious. Albus had to work not to take a step back.
"Tom, I wasn't expecting-" But the Dark Lord cut him off.
"It's Voldemort to you, Albus. Calling me Tom is a privilege that very few carry." Albus didn't move his wand from Joshua, knowing that it would do him little good.
"Get Joshua!" Harry, ever the self-sacrificing hero. Albus willed the magic to be transferred faster.
Tom allowed a dark smirk to play on his lips. "What's the magic word?" He would save Harry, the small child, and kill Albus all at the same time. This was going to make his day.
"Now, Tom!" The chuckle that slipped past perfect lips at widening blue eyes reverberated throughout the pitch.
"Close enough." The killing curse had never before come so easily, but Albus was quick for an old fool, and skidded out of the line of fire, taking the young wizard with him.
"Harry! Harry, help!" The little voice pleaded for Harry's assistance, and Harry reacted accordingly, just as Albus wanted. The closer Harry was, the easier it would be to steal his magic.
"Harry, don't!" But it wasn't Tom who shouted the order. Crimson orbs trailed over to see Zabini and his Mudblood; Harry's Mudblood.
"Ah, Miss Granger." But that was as far as the old fool got before the frizzy haired girl pointed her wand at him. Tom smirked at the development.
"Don't you 'Miss Granger' me! Let Joshua go!" A disappointed sigh escaped wrinkled lips. Less wrinkled then just a slight bit ago. He was stalling.
"So you're for the dark side, too? And you showed such promise." Albus had the gall to shake his head.
"The only side I'm on is Harry's." Cute.
"Then you're on my side. Protect the child." Tom's words weren't overlooked. Albus was his. The old fool must have saw it as well as he tossed Joshua to the side and took three jumping strides towards Harry, placing his palm flat on the young man's chest a moment later. Blue strings flowed from Harry easily, and while he began to age, Albus began to get younger. Strangely, it wasn't a spell that stopped the quickened process, but a Quaffle.
"Sorry we're late. Traffic was brutal." The thick Scottish accent didn't escape Tom as he looked up, only partially surprised to see Cedric Diggory and Oliver Wood floating above them, brooms hovering at least twenty feet into the air.
"You're outnumbered, Albus." No matter how true the words were, the old fool didn't seem ready to back down, hair shortening and turning brown again, muscles becoming firm and strong once more. But Harry was perishing, at least fifty or sixty by now. Tom had to hurry.
"But none of you are for the Greater Good! That will be your downfall!" Tom raised his wand to kill Albus, knowing that the damage had already been done, before Harry grasped the man's arm, voice raspy with age, hands shaking with effort.
"You're right." Crimson orbs blinked. "They aren't fighting for the Greater Good, but as horrible as they are, even though some of them don't have a single good bone in their bodies," Tom felt singled out for just a moment as Harry shot him a glance, "they did teach me something." Another twenty years flew from his body, forcing Harry to his knees, and Tom wanted to shout for him to get out of the way before he died.
"What might that be, my boy?" Albus, a mere twenty years old once more. Shining brown hair with empathetic blue eyes, none of it deserved.
"I hate sharing." Time seemed to stop for just a moment as green and red connected, old hands tightening around young skin, and then everything sped up, backwards. The blue strings of magic flew faster than ever before, but from Albus instead of Harry. "It's my magic. It's my youth. It's none of your business." Tom loved the control Harry had, the dominance he was asserting. It made him want to pin the boy down and show him who was really in charge all that much more. Albus was back at his old age in no time, but the magic didn't stop. Harry didn't stop.
It went on until there was nothing left but a pile of ashes, and an exhausted Harry. With a determined look on his face, he shoved his hand at the ground, and Tom could see the magic which belonged to Albus shoot into the ground, making Harry pure yet again. As soon as all of it was gone, there was a change in the atmosphere. Tom poured magic into his vision to get a better view of what was going on. The fragile strings of magic sewing Harry together were tightening to an irremovable state. He was becoming immortal right in front of Tom's eyes, and he knew it.
"Harry?" Joshua ran over to the young immortal on the ground, wrapping his small arms around the boy's neck. "Harry, why'd the old man take me from the orph'nage?" Crimson orbs narrowed at the word orphanage, no matter how slurred it was. An orphaned wizard who was pulled out of hell by… By whom? "Why didn't you come? They hurt me, Harry! You said they wouldn't hurt me anymore!" By no one. Harry had went to school and left him there.
"They won't hurt you anymore. I'm not saying this time. I'm promising. You aren't going back." Harry sounded solemn as the little boy cried into his chest. His words only seemed to make theorphan angrier.
"How are you going to help? You get hurt all the time!" Small hands yanked at the edge of Harry's shirt, revealing the end of a scar. Tom didn't care how far away he was, how faded it was, or how quickly Harry pulled the cloth back down. Someone had been hurting Harry, a lot by the sound of it. The fury was back. Harry was right on the note of Tom's habit of not sharing. He didn't like people to look at what was his. To hurt it was damnation.
"Not anymore. I'll find somewhere else for us to live. And you won't get hurt. And I won't get hurt. Alright?" Harry was gentle, making sure not to startle the young boy. Granger wasn't nearly as subtle.
"Why didn't you say anything?" She didn't give Harry a chance to respond. "Why didn't you stop them? I know we shouldn't use our magic to our advantage, but they're just muggles, Harry! You shouldn't have let them hurt you!" For once, he had to agree.
"You were all so busy with the war and your own problems that I didn't really think it mattered. I could always heal myself." Tom shot Zabini a look which was anything but misunderstood.
"Hermione, we need to go." Brown eyes gained a confused glint at that statement, but Harry caught on. Both he and the orphan disappeared without another word. Tom could have cursed, but he just wasn't sure who to aim it at: Harry for running again or himself for not seeing it coming again. He settled for cursing in general. This hunt was growing old.
Harry watched Joshua's chest rise and fall lightly as purple sheets curled around him, gripped tightly in little fists.
"Keep your voice hushed. He's asleep." There was no need to turn around to see the large man standing behind him. His magic gave him away.
"It's no wonder I couldn't trace your magic back." Tom didn't sound happy, but his voice was kept low just as Harry had asked. Ordered.
"I figured that your house was the last place you would look for me, and I was right." The deep growl had a slightly husky tint, one that Harry tried desperately to ignore, still refusing to turn around. "Besides, there's nowhere else that I could ensure his safety on such a short notice." At least, Harry hoped that he was safe. There was a chance that Tom would find annoyance in the boy because it reminded him of his past, but there was a larger chance that he would be empathetic. Harry hoped.
"And how do you know he'll be safe?" Harry was sure that part of Tom's annoyance was that Joshua was asleep in the Dark Lord's bed. Not the best idea, but certainly not the worst.
"You didn't care whether a child died or not, but you never tortured one." Not once.
"I can change." The Boy-Who-Lived had to concentrate on what the Dark Lord was saying, unable to stop drowning in twin pools of crimson. It was unfair for any living being to have eyes that stunning.
"I doubt it," Harry continued as Tom raised his wand, looking incredibly serious, "but it's always possible. Would you like some coffee?" The quick change of subject wasn't missed, but Harry ignored the smug smirk as much as humanly possible and left the room before Tom could answer. It was the safest route. The kitchen was easy enough to find after a few moments of wandering, but Harry never got to making the coffee. Instead, he was shoved against the kitchen table, warm, agile hands climbing up Harry's shirt to feel his scars. Harry couldn't help the twist between a gasp and a moan which slipped up his throat.
"They'll die for touching you." It wasn't a suggestion. Harry arched his back as Tom's lips connected almost angrily with his neck. Without warning, the hands threaded themselves into Harry's shirt and went in opposite directions, ripping it in half. "They'll tear just as easily as this cloth, but not nearly as painlessly." The wandering hands slid down his sides and then back up again, eliciting a shutter from Harry's sensitive body. "Any objections?" Cloudy green eyes sparked when the hands came to a stop, pure magic whipping out at the world. Slowly, with as much control as he could muster, Harry shook his head in a negative motion. He had suffered through enough. He had resisted temptation enough. Now it was time to give in. Tom didn't want to kill him, the war was going to be small with few casualties, and the most amazing man in the history of history was standing behind him.
"Do what you want." There was a husky tint that Harry couldn't remember ever having entered his voice before, and Tom didn't waste time doing just that. A strong arm wrapped around Harry's waist before the younger immortal was lifted off of the ground and tossed through the air, landing safely on the bed of a room he had never been in only seconds later. As Tom's larger form crawled on top of him a moment later Harry could only assume that the man's magic had gotten them there.
"You should be careful what you wish for, Harry." Teeth bit sharply into the juncture of Harry's neck. "You just might get it." The pain was dulled by a skilled tongue twisting over the wound and a calloused hand gripped Harry's now hard member. When had that gotten there? A sharp gasp was all Harry had time to get out as the warm mouth left the wound and started down his chest. Slight hands fisted themselves in neat black locks. The Dark Lord's hand, which had previously been racing up and down Harry's length, left to push his pants and boxers down to his knees, magically banishing them from there. A low breath was drawn in on Tom's behalf as he stopped all of his ministrations; lifting his head.
"What?" Had he done something wrong? Harry didn't know how to do any of this. He didn't know how to make Tom want to keep going. "D-did I-?" Harry couldn't finish as Tom's mouth lowered to his left nipple, the bud rolling softly between the elder male's teeth.
Harry was almost too much, writhing under him in such an enticing manner. Here Tom was, trying to take it slow for the boy's first time, and here Harry was, practically trying to break his control. Not that it mattered. No one could have told Tom that scars – scars which filthy muggles inflicted – could ever look sexy and have him believe it, yet there it was. Every inch of Harry was more enticing than the last, taunting and teasing just by existing. Slowly, carefully, Tom traced each one of the scars, treading especially lightly over the fresher ones. Magic could only heal so much, after all.
Fury flashed through lust again. Harry was his. All his. No one could take that away. Tom just needed to claim ownership. Sliding his hands farther down to a scar that started at Harry's navel and twisted southward to Harry's upper thigh, Tom made his way to Harry's entrance. If ownership needed to be claimed then be claimed it would. With measured movements, Tom slid his fingers over the underside of Harry's weeping cock, collecting just enough pre-cum to wet his fingers. The gasping moan which Harry's throat allowed to escape accompanied a surge in pure magic that had Tom wanting to forgo preparation and free his own member from the confines of his pants, which seemed to grow tighter with every passing moment. Still, he didn't dare let himself go. Tom didn't trust himself enough for that. Instead, he circled Harry's puckered hole with a damp finger, intently watching dark pupils try to overthrow green irises with dark hunger. The first finger went in without a hitch. Well, there was a hitch in Harry's breath, but that was alright.
"Relax." Tom didn't wait for the boy to do so before shoving another digit in and beginning to scissor. "You're only making it hurt worse." Surprisingly, Harry did as he was told. Mostly. His lower body relaxed. His hands, however, only fisted tighter in Tom's hair. It was a pleasurable sort of pain, though nothing near what he was experiencing in his nether regions. Another minute with another finger was all Tom could take as Harry unconsciously shoved himself against Tom's fingers. All he needed was to find—
"Tom!" A smirk curled on hungry lips as Tom removed his fingers, earning a whimper of protest in response. Tom ignored it, instead focusing all of his energy on unbuttoning his pants without tearing them. Harry's clothes were much less valuable then his. Tom had to go out and face the world, fighting for dominance over all. Harry could just sit back – though Tom doubted he would – on Tom's bed and lay there all day, naked. Oh, if only. Green orbs widened as Tom's leaking erection sprung from its previous prison.
"See something you like?" Tom couldn't help the sultry taunt as a blush of embarrassment entered already heated cheeks.
"I-" Harry stopped after the single syllable, unable to tear his eyes away from Tom's bulging package. A moment more passed before the young immortal continued. "That won't fit." A dark chuckle escaped the Dark Lord as he roughly pulled Harry's legs over his shoulders. "I'm serious, Tom. There's no way that will-" But the elder wasn't about to listen and instead cut Harry off by aligning his cock to the savior's entrance, simultaneously pushing three of his fingers into Harry's mouth. The young man began to suck with little probing, confusion clear in his eyes. It took everything Tom had not to penetrate as Harry shifted uncomfortably, rubbing against Tom's cock with every movement. The sensation of his naturally talented tongue over slickened fingers didn't help either. Deciding that enough was enough, he yanked his fingers away and coated himself with the saliva.
"It will, Harry." He was sure that Harry didn't suspect the sudden penetration of his almost unnaturally large prick. They both gasped at the intense pleasure of it: Tom from Harry's tight heat engulfing him and Harry from Tom ramming into his prostate on the first go. He was barely able to get the next few words out. "Think of it like magic." Magic was something they could both relate to. Only waiting a couple of minutes for Harry to adjust, Tom pulled almost completely out before thrusting back in. The pace was set. Harry didn't complain at the fast thrusts, only moaned, rocking his hips back and forth in time with Tom.
"Oh my Merlin…" Harry trailed off and Tom understood. Their magic, though completely different, was melding together, if only for a single moment. At that point in time, they weren't filled with dark or light, weren't considered pure or tainted, just magic. Everything was magic from the reactive nerves under Harry's skin to the sweat drenched clothes Tom hadn't bothered removing. A tight coiling in the pit of Tom's stomach told him he was close, but it was a late notice as Harry tightened around him, nothing but a yelp of pleasure signaling he was about to release. The white seed spurted from the young savior's cock, but Tom barely noticed, entirely too focused on his own release to see Harry come down from his high. They sat there for a moment, basking in the glorious aftermath of their actions before Tom finally pushed himself up on his hands, staring almost – almost – lovingly into green orbs.
"I don't belong to you." Tom allowed a small smile to grace his face at Harry's words.
"You're not my equal." They could play that game for the rest of eternity and neither of them would ever be any less wrong.
"Would you like to go commit murder?" Harry's question only halfway shocked him.
"The Dursleys?" The smile curved to a smirk. "I'd love to." For Tom and Harry, there was no happily ever after, but even the most stubborn of people had to admit:
They were cutting it pretty close.