Hey! It's time for my second story; I was happily surprised by how well my first one was received. This story will have a different approach although Harry will most definitely end up happy in the end as that is my idea of a DarkHarry based story.

So I guess that ruined the element of surprise for you. Yes, Harry is to be dark in this story.

Also, I plan to make this a multiple-chapters story, a challenge, but hey, mind's the limit right? And my mind's full of super nerdy Harry/Voldie moments…

Warnings for this chapter: giggle-inducing insinuations.

Disclaimer (was too excited to do this with my first story): Harry Potter does not sparkle and will never ever love me. Voldemort will.

Life with a Dark Lord

Chapter 1,

Monstrous Couches

It's dark.

And fuck it's cold! Harry hugged his arms tight around his ribs and squinted into the forbidden forest.

His body shook from the cold, his heating charms wearing off as he approached the ancient and powerful wards preventing intruders on the castle grounds.

He was getting out though. Out from this hellhole people called a school. He was nearing the end of his fifth year and the encouraging comments and pointed stares were driving him insane; fuck the war!

Merlin was he tired of being cheery and acting like a good for nothing, the light were stupid for thinking he was going to sacrifice his life, yes his bloody life, for their beliefs.

What did he care if some random muggles got murdered? Hell, he wanted to kill some of them himself! His supposed 'uncle and aunt' with their fat son would make great victims of his hate.

He'd planned on using a spell he'd seen a death eater use last summer during the quidditch world cup. It had seemed to pull out the intestines of a victim through his or her mouth. He'd been quite intrigued by the results.

He felt as he passed the final ward, the fidelius charm, a new addition.

It had been powerfully placed by the whole school staff after he'd had a 'vision' of Voldemort coming waltzing in, the centaurs trailing behind him. Of course it was all fake; Voldemort, or Tom as Harry preferred to call him when they were alone, couldn't ever make the centaurs close a deal for his side.

But he had tried, and tried again, and again.

No matter, Harry thought and smiled one of his disconcerting smiles which had the light wince as he inwardly discussed the ways to torture them all. Voldemort had gained other allies, like the werewolves for example.

Apparently Remus had gone to try to sway the packs to the light last summer, and well, let's just say Fenrir had been in for a hell of a surprise when his old victim turned out to be his mate.

And that had been that really, he thought as he remembered his last meeting with the two, Remus contentedly sitting in the lap of his turner.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the reverie he once again tried to make out the shapes of men by the edge of the forest. When Harry had in great frustration and despair called Voldemort through his two-way mirror and demanded to be let out of the loony-tower the Dark Lord had grudgingly admitted it wasn't fair to make him stay any longer.

In November it had been three years since they for the first time shook hands.

After finding out about the chamber of secrets and meeting the aged and wise basilisk in it Harry had by his own device sought out the, by the public assumed dead, Dark Lord.

Finding him hadn't been easy, when he finally did however it had been somewhere wholly unexpected. The Forbidden Forest. What happened then had exceeded his expectations by solar systems. The Dark Lord had spoken directly into his mind, and without preambles told him the truth, the truth about everything. Quickly finding his wits Harry'd pretended to seem frightened while calmly, in his mind, replying that he would like to get to know his parents' killer.

After several rendezvous he agreed to help find one of Voldemort's horcruxes. Or, well the tricky part would be getting a hold of it and smuggling it out of the castle, Dumbledore being none the wiser.

Obviously he'd succeeded.

He'd 'rescued' Ginerva Weasley after professor Lockhart had shot a backfiring obliviatus spell on himself. Or so he told Dumbledore and changed Ronald Weasley's memories to look like, just in case. After that he'd proceeded to conjure a false diary which he then let the great basilisk pierce with one of her fangs. Escaping the chamber through an underground tunnel, the diary in his hands, he'd made his way to Voldemort, or what was left of him anyways. What happened then as Voldemort merged with the one piece of soul Harry dared not think about as it would cause him to re-experience the intense pain he'd felt through their link. Finally finishing the last part of the plan the Dark Lord conjured a fake basilisk for Harry to 'fight' and the rest of that year is history.

"Seriously guys, I'm trying to see you, I really am, but you wearing black cloaks against a black background aren't making it very easy" finally loosing his temper he fired a myriad of spells into random bushes, hearing several cries of surprise in return. Two identical chuckles made him smile, Tom sure knew how to please him; he'd sent the Weasley twins together with more experienced death eaters to pick him up.

Hurrying his steps he found himself suddenly face to face with two identical smirks. "Sweet Merlin you know how to stage a surprise" he said as he mock-faked a heart attack by pressing his hand to his chest. "You two could probably kill the Order with your shocking methods alone" he continued teasingly while starting to walk towards where the other Death Eaters were.

Glancing to George who was walking to his right he saw the twin frowning in thought, as if actually considering the idea; he groaned. Great, fucking great, now Tom will get mad at me for putting ideas in their head when they should be training.

"My prince." McNair stated and the others followed with the same salute. Harry frowned unnoticeably; he didn't like that honorific, it was Tom who'd insisted on calling him by that name during the time they'd 'nourished' their relationship in secrecy.

He'd exposed his existence by accident, but it had luckily been while wearing the mask and green robes Tom had had manufactured for him.

He'd never actually exposed his identity so perhaps he was still having a secret form of relationship with his now long-time friend, friend being a reforming term for what they had.

Maybe friends with benefits would suit us better… he continued to muse about the naming of their relationship as he stopped beside the others.

Looking to him for help he did what so far only he and the Dark Lord could, raise his hands while chanting in Parseltongue to open a portal that would allow them to travel in space.

Black tendrils swirled from his hands and encompassed them before releasing a heavy pressure which he felt as his silver mask felt like it smashed his pale face.

The pressure lifted and they all stumbled except for Harry who felt the distinct feeling of Tom's hands holding him steady.

"You came to greet me." He said cheerily in Parseltongue as he relaxed into the firm hold.

He looked around the summoning chamber of Voldemort's manor. The Slytherin Manor. It was quite extraordinary.

Sure the walls of the chamber was a dull rock colour, they were underground on top of a mountain after all. But the pillars and floor were a smooth black marble with ripples of shifting shades of green.

Against the back wall were a row of luxurious chairs in gold plastered wood and lush red stopping.

Lined against the right wall on each sides of the soft grey marble stair was the junior Death Eaters, many of which Harry had never seen before, thus stating this as a big event. Opposite the juniors were the ordinary servants of the Dark Lord, standing proudly about a foot from the rock wall. And finally in a semicircle in front of the podium of the summoning chamber were the elite.

They were disciplined enough not to look and instead focusing their gaze on the throne like chairs standing on the raising of the marble floor.

The bigger of the two chairs was clad in gold with a dark grey padded satin seat and backrest. It was positioned in the middle, the smaller 'throne' to its left; the side of a life-companion.

The Dark Lord gently steered him away from his pick-up entourage and towards the smaller silver throne. It matched his outfit the teen thought, amused. The forest green satin-clad padding felt nice and soft against his arse as he gracefully sat down next to Tom.

A few of the youngsters besides the stair openly ogled his slim form underneath a messy black mop of hair. According to Voldemort his hairstyle was far from descent as it screamed recently-shagged.

Not that the old man complained when Harry let it flow freely and messily around his sweaty face in bed.

Why he lay sweaty and writhing in bed as the Dark Lord watched was another story.

Seeing Tom crossing his index and middle finger, forming the sign of wanting to talk through their link Harry lowered his mental shields around the area in his mind. A gentle voice caressed his mind,

'Did everything go as planned?' Harry smiled under the mask, here they go again, Voldie being overprotective as his object of affection waved it off; being well aware he could eliminate almost every threat directed at him.

'I'm fine Tom, the portal thing's just giving me a headache' Harry answered truthfully as he couldn't repress his hand slightly clutching the armrest in discomfort, no-one else noticed and if they did they would think it was because of one of his frequent outbursts of frustration.

'Is that better my little serpent?' the Dark Lord said into his mind after sending some soothing caresses through their link. He mentally nodded and the handsome lord beside him let forth a heartbreaking smile.

The old man bore the form of an seventeen year-old as the master-piece of soul had merged with the first horcrux Tom had ever created, adopting the younger of the two's form. It had become obvious he would not physically age after a year or so.

A collective of gasps were heard as the junior death eaters saw their lord smile in such a carefree fashion. Harry quietly chuckled as Tom frowned, 'I do believe they are shocked at your rather outrageous behaviour my lord' he said mentally, earning himself an annoyed glance from his 'friend'.

'It is not more outrageous than your hair' the Dark lord countered in a smirking tone, Harry openly smirked back.

'You seemed rather fond of it during Easter break, as I remember it'

'What do you mean?' Tom asked curiously, still looking around at his followers. The tension in the room was strained since he'd frowned.

'Well you were stroking and patting it as soon as you thought I was asleep' an embarrassed feeling escaped the Dark Lord's mental walls. 'Not that I complain, it is rather nice knowing my bodily functions is not all which pleases my Lord' Ah, there it is, a faint blush passed; unnoticed by all except Harry.

The raven haired teen had long considered it his favourite past-time to make 'his Lord' blush, a feat not entirely easy to achieve.

'I'll have you know we are sharing a bedroom from now on.' The Dark lord smirked in their minds; Harry frowned in confusion, adding to the tenseness of the group before them.

'What do you mean?' the fact they were sharing a room was not cause for his distress; they'd been doing that in all but theory since the end of last summer. No, it was the sneaky smirk now openly plastered onto his Lord's beautiful face.

'Meaning I can make you sleep on the couch' Harry mock-gasped and let his hand cover his mouth.

'You wouldn't!' he continued indignantly. 'The plush monster would swallow me alive!' A pause and then;

"You- what? I- you-what!" Harry promptly started giggling, an entirely un-manly act, but he could not stop himself; the sight was almost too much. It did not take long until the Dark Lord followed, a deep chuckle escaping his lush lips before he regained the tight control he always kept. Once again slipping on the emotionless mask he always kept for his followers.

"I think you made some of the younger ones wet themselves" Harry calmly observed.

"Hush you, let's not go for number two" this however, only served to, once again, crack the emerald eyed boy up. Truly, his Lord knew how to entertain.