Hey Excentryemuse! I know it's very late. But better late than never?

Also, yeah I know, I haven't updated in ages. But I have 2 other one-shots planned for the Christmas holidays, and I WILL get New Divide updated soon! Huggles.

"Supermassive Black Hole"

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros, et all. Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and Lucas Film. I make no money from this and I own nothing, don't sue.

Summary: [LV/HP] Gift-fic for Excentrykemuse. The only thing Darth Vader expected when the Exactor emergency landed on Naboo was to re-live some painful memories. He never expected his subordinates to purchase him a concubine. The man in the monstrous, metallic suit wouldn't have been Harry's first choice for a prince charming either. But that's life.

Warnings: Slash. Crossover. Vader/Harry. Suit!sex (as requested). Totally AU, possibly unrealistic!

Rating: NC-17.

A/N: Weeeeeeeeeeeell! This was meant to be a gift fic for Excentrykemuse, for St's Day back in July… But then real life ran away with me! So here it is, a happy New Year gift instead :D


Ooh, you set my soul alight
Glaciers melting in the dead of night - Muse

Words: 6,042

Chapter 1

He watched them.

The crew members laughed, talked loudly amongst themselves, making no distinction between the human officers and the clones. Imperial forces had won the Battle for Kashyyyk; it was a time for celebration, and even the ranking officers had joined in. They mixed together; everyone on board the Exactor cheered or raised a glass as the Holocom flickered offline. Except for him.

He watched them in silence, peering down through the glass that had been shattered numerous times by him throwing someone over the balcony. The room below was large, unnecessarily so, unless the designer of the Imperator-Class Star Destroyers had foreseen this moment. It was well understood that the Imperial navy was a life-time career choice, but Emperor Palpatine must have been extremely pleased, he mused to himself. It wasn't every day that Coruscant 'commed the off-planet fleet and gave them shore leave.

The Exactor was heading back to the core world many of its crew called home. A fact its crew were very pleased about.

He had a retreat on Coruscant, unbearably close to the Imperial Palace and the Emperor, but it would have to do. Apart from his castle on Vjun, there was nowhere else for him to go. There was no one to go home to. He couldn't very well go to Vjun when he had been told to return to Coruscant with the crew, could he? His master would probably take offence, Darth Vader mused, as he turned away from the Plexiglas and blocked the sounds of celebration from his mind.

What was there to celebrate anyway? He scowled, the facial expression hidden beneath the mask and twisting the scarred tissue of his cheeks. He clenched his gloved fist at the twinge of pain that shot through him.

"The death of my enemies," he whispered, though his voice was loud and gravelly regardless. Unfortunately, he'd just been grounded.


Captain Ozzik Sturn raised his glass to his lips and drank deeply. Whatever he was drinking, he hadn't cared to ask, burned as it went down and Ozzik smacked his lips together and raised the glass again.

"To Kashyyyk!" Someone yelled.

Scattered laughter spread through the room. Some of the crew raised their glasses, others merely took a drink, and some just grinned widely.

"To the Emperor and his shore leave!" Another cried, excitedly. He was well on his way to being intoxicated, and Ozzik rolled his eyes at the sight of the man. Adam Rochers, a native Correlian, was wild and outgoing, but he worked hard and always showed the rest of his colleagues the respect they deserved. He was stupidly un-fearful of Lord Vader, who while having only been introduced to Coruscant society after the first battle for Kashyyyk had killed enough insubordinate Imperials already to have made an impression. Adam, Ozzik remembered with a scoff, was due leave this week anyway. He was getting married on Coruscant. It also explained why he was drinking so much, the Captain thought cynically.

When Rochers raised his glass to make another toast and instead spilt his drink on Nathanial Lehideux's previously clean uniform, Ozzik decided to interrupt. In the corner of the room beneath the door to the viewing platform that ran around the circumference of the ceiling, a group of Stormtroopers had broken into song. He winced at the tone-deaf singing, rolled his eyes at the attempts of the Admiral to dance on the Com-unit without falling on his face, and finally managed to reach Adam's side.

"I think you've had enough to drink."

They all ignored the streaks that zoomed past the windows, having missed the jump to hyperspace. Rochers grinned widely, pointing at the bright lights that sped past them. "I'm going home," he slurred, raising his glass again.

Ozzik pulled the glass from his hand. "The only place you're going is an infirmary if you ingest anymore of this poison." He scowled at the alcohol. "What is it? Correlian?" Adam nodded and Ozzik grimaced. "Strong stuff," he murmured before he knocked back what was left in the glass. "Now let's get you to bed," he told his assistant.

As they stumbled towards the door, both men happened to look up simultaneously and catch a glimpse of a black cape as it fluttered out of sight. Apparently Darth Vader wasn't in the celebrating mood.


When Adam sobered up, they had left hyperspace. But they weren't in Coruscant. He washed and dressed himself hurriedly, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the furry feeling in his mouth.

"Admiral," he greeted a rather sheepish looking Reginald Basiko. The man had fallen off of the Com-unit the night before, and Lord Vader was attempting to fix it while ignoring the presence of the engineers. "Darth Vader, Captain," Adam continued, "where are we?"

"We had to make an emergency stop; we're in Naboo at the moment. Something is wrong with the warp-drive, and the Holocom is down. We need to send word to Imperial Centre of our delay."

"Lord Vader, is there not a Com-unit in your quarters?"

The helmeted head turned slowly, until they were eye-to-visor. Adam respected the Sith Lord, he would have been a fool not to, and while the man was terrifying to be around, there didn't seem to be any legitimate excuse not to include Vader in normal conversations. He was a man, unless he was an alien but then likely he wouldn't be an Imperial, and all men deserved to be treated equally. Unless they were separatists or traitors, Rochers thought.

"All Com-units aboard the ship are unavailable. Something has broken in the main terminal that is affecting the others," the Sith answered. He turned away immediately, attempting to fix the Com once again, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. No one had been Force-choked or thrown through Plexiglas.

Nathanial, one of the translators aboard the Exactor, walked towards the door. Adam moved towards him, and Ozzik watched with a frown as they put their heads together and began whispering.

Though they didn't know this, Vader could hear everything they were saying through the Force. The words were loud in his mind, while they were less than a whisper to his ears.

"No," he said without looking up. "This is not to be considered as extra-shore leave. You were permitted one week, and one week you shall be granted, men!" He stood up now, towering over the other men in the room, and frowned though they could not see it. "That week is inclusive of the days we remain beached upon this cursed planet," he hissed. Without waiting for a response, Vader strode from the room, his hands clenched at his sides.

"He doesn't like Naboo?" One officer asked quietly.

"I heard it's beautiful. Never been planet side myself though." Another murmured.

Vader ignored them all. This planet was beautiful. It was where he had fallen in love with Padme, his beautiful Padme who he had killed in his anger. He hadn't returned to the System since, though he had heard rumours that Theed had been aerial bombed until nothing but rubble was left. It was painful to know that he was so close to the resting place of his beloved wife, to her family who had become like family to him in the time that he had lived with them.

No, he reminded himself.

They were Anakin Skywalker's family, not his. And Anakin was as dead as his wife. The memory of them both haunted him, though, and Vader growled as memories he had tried to repress resurfaced. Padme and him. The Nabooian gardens green and beautiful around them as they laughed and talked and made love. Family and friends aware that they were more than guard and guarded but no one ever saying it out loud, though they all watched carefully, and Anakin and Padme giggled over it all. There was nothing on this planet for him but painful reminders of a past he'd rather forget but was unable to.

He turned and headed back towards the communications room. Determination was in every step he took, the set of his shoulders, and the tilt of his head. He was getting off of this planet.



Night had fallen. The Exactor was still stranded at the edge of some city. Vader hadn't bothered to ask which one. The less he knew about Naboo, the better, as far as he was concerned. A smaller Imperial ship was on its way to their coordinates, carrying some of the engineers who had actually built the Exactor and its predecessor. If anyone could find out what was wrong with it, they would.

Vader had managed to fix the Holocom, and once it was back online the remainder of the Com-units had started working as well. But the warp-drive was apparently not the only part of the ship damaged in their last battle that had gone unnoticed.

"As soon as they have outlived their usefulness," Vader whispered menacingly, "they will suffer." It was inconceivable that their own engineers had allowed damage of this magnitude to go unnoticed and unresolved for so long. Vader snorted, imagining the worst possible scenario, if the ship had malfunctioned above Coruscant instead of Naboo, had crashed into Imperial Palace and crushed all of the snivelling sycophants that surrounded the Emperor. A small smirk played across his lips at the thought. And now he was stuck on Naboo, haunted by ghosts. When he could have been seated upon the Galactic throne, mourning the loss of the last Galactic leader.

"They will suffer."

"Lord Vader!" Someone shouted. Vader spun around, his hand automatically falling to grip his lightsaber. "Whoa!" Adam Rochers laughed, holding his hands in the air defensively. "Sir, the Captain and the Admiral gave us permission to leave the ship for the night. I'm probably going to miss my bachelor party, so we're having an impromptu one tonight."

"Why are you telling me this? You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I care," Vader drawled, folding his arms across his plated chest.

"I came to invite you. You always stay on your own; you never eat with the rest of us, or socialize. It must get lonely." Adam shrugged appearing nonchalant, but he had started to fidget, beginning to feel nervous as Vader stared at him in silence. "I thought, we thought," he corrected, "you might want to come, just for an hour or two, you know, just to have a good time?"

Vader opened his mouth. The acrid words were on the tip of his tongue, about to spill forth like acid and burn away all of the hope and excitement and reckless bravery that radiated off of the fool before him. Before he could however, his eyes widened, and his heart began to beat in his chest. He could feel something, though he didn't know what, through the Force. Something about tonight, he realized.

"Yes." He said. Vader blinked, swallowing heavily, and then repeated the word in his mind. Had it really been produced by his vocal cords, he wondered? Had he really just agreed to socialize, on Naboo of all places, with inferior people he couldn't stand to be in the presence of?

"Yes?" Rochers questioned, looking as surprised as Vader felt. "Cool! We're meeting in the loading bay in an hour!" Before Vader could change his mind, the young man was gone.

"Yes?" Vader asked himself.

The Force rippled, images and sensations and words rushing around him and through him, but one in particular stood out, brighter than everything else. A girl with bright green eyes smiled shyly at him through a fringe of dark hair, and the word 'yes' echoed through his mind, over and over, becoming fainter until eventually Lord Vader's eyes snapped open.

A Force vision, but while he was awake. That had never happened to him before. It didn't seem like his night on the town boded well for him. The last two visions he had experienced, the two most important ones, the ones that had altered his world had torn his world apart first. Vader could only hope that this girl had nothing in common with his mother or his wife.

However, this time, he had nothing to lose.

And that was how he found himself standing alone at the back of a cantina, a glass of something he wasn't planning on ingesting in one hand, and a piece of cloth in the other. There was a room number scrawled on it. Rochers had shoved it into his hand, after stumbling drunkenly out of the adjoining casino, and had pointed over to the stairs. Vader wasn't sure what was up there, but when he reached out with the Force he couldn't sense anything other than a peculiar pulling sensation. There was nothing dangerous upstairs, but the Force was working in strange ways again and that in itself was something to fear. The other men who were part of the bachelor party had split up, one had gone upstairs, three more had joined Adam in the casino again, and the last two were drinking at the bar, laughing loudly.

Vader eyed them in distaste. Then he turned and made his way towards the staircase. With one hand on the railing, his glass discarded on a random table, he paused to compose himself. Whatever awaited him, he would face head on. The Force wanted this event to occur, and occur it would, Vader mentally insisted, one foot then the other landing on the stairs. At the top of the staircase, he turned his head to read the numbers on the row of doors that lined the hallway.

A girl walked past him. She was dressed in barely more than a sheet wrapped twice around her like a toga, that left little to the imagination, and Vader thought that she would have been beautiful if not for the life-weary lines that streaked her face.

"Where is this room?" He asked, the words rumbling loudly.

She giggled. "Lucky you," she said, fluttering her eyes. "You won't be disappointed! Just keep going that way," she pointed down the hallway, "until you run out of wall. There's a gap, go down that corridor. It's the only door in that part of the building." She walked away from him without another word. From her reaction to him, or lack thereof, Lord Vader got the impression that this was not a well reputed establishment. Anywhere Imperial-sanctioned would have been employing people who were well aware of the Sith Lord's appearance and position in the Galactic Empire. This girl, this… slave was the only word he could think to describe her based on the thoughts that had been going through her mind, had no idea who he was. And he had no idea slavery still existed in Naboo.

When he found the room, he walked in without knocking. There was no one inside. The entry room was furnished with two leather divans, and a table made of what looked like Alderanian oak. Vader checked the bathroom and the bedroom as well; no one in either. He was alone in a room that one of his subordinates had sent him to, after specifically inviting him along to the cantina, and Vader had not bothered to tell the Captain or the Admiral of his attendance.

Assassination! He mind supplied.

His hand groped for his lightsaber as the door swung open. The weapon was lit and held to the girl's throat before she could step foot in the room. Her green eyes widened with fear, then amusement as she took in his suit.

"Well, this is kinkier than I'm used to," the voice drawled, a small smile on his lips. The voice was masculine.

Vader lowered his lightsaber. Before him stood the girl from his vision, except it wasn't a girl. It was a boy, a boy who was wearing only a pair of cotton shorts and knee high army-issue boots.

"What?" Vader took a step backwards, though he kept his weapon lit and ready.

"I'm guessing from the leather thing you've got going on that I should have worn a collar?" Vader tilted his head to one side, unsure what he was supposed to say. "You know, the whole Dominant/submissive theme, leather, chains, kink, and all that hype. Why else would you be wearing that ridiculous outfit? I'm Harry by the way."

He wasn't sure why he answered truthfully, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I was injured in a fire. The suit allows me to breathe normally."

"Oh," Harry frowned, and Vader realized with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wasn't comfortable with the boy looking unhappy. "So you can't take it off then? How are we supposed to have sex with it on?" Harry took a step forwards, and Vader backed up a step as well.

"What?" For a shocked second there was complete silence, then the whoosh-whoosh of Vader's respirator started again, and Harry gave a soft laugh.

"Well why else would you be here?" There was a furrow between the teenager's eyebrows, and his eyes were half closed in confusion.

"A… associate of mine sent me here." Vader admitted.

Harry gave a low whistle. "Damn. You're either his very good friend or he just won a krith-load of money in the casino and had nothing better to waste it on!"

"The later, no doubt," the elder man drawled. His eyes roamed over the lightly-tanned skin that was bared to him, skipping the cotton that hid his groin with a gulp, and took in the boots. "Those are?"

"Carida regulation. My last Daimyo had a thing about me dressing up like a Stormtrooper. Anyway, how do you have sex in that?" Harry reached out a hand, and Vader knocked it away, lighter than he would have hit anyone else who would have dared to touch him.

"I do not." Harry raised an eyebrow. "I've never had the opportunity to try."

A wide grin almost split Harry's face. He reached down, to open the buttons on his shorts. He was wearing nothing else, Vader noticed, and felt his face flushing. The shorts had slid down his hips, revealing a dark patch of hair, but Vader knew what else was hidden beneath the cotton.

He had never, ever, felt any inclination towards men. Actually, he had never felt anything sexual towards anyone other than Padme. The Force had brought him to her, and he had been allowed and encouraged by the Force to love her.

The Force trembled, rippling across his mind. It urged him to reach out and cup the teenager's face in his much larger hand.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I was paid." The boy said with a shrug, pressing his cheek against the gloved hand. "I cost an awful lot of money, so I may as well do what I was paid to do."

"You're a whore?" Vader cleared his throat, shifting his weight as Harry flinched. "A prostitute I mean?"

"I prefer the word Oiran. It's an old world word for concubine or courtesan, you know, the really high class ones. I've been here a while now, a long while actually. I know I'm not from here, but I don't remember how I came to be here. It's just always been that way, me living and working in this place. Mostly I just entertain people outside of the bedroom, like go on dates and to weddings and parties so they look like someone gives a shit about them, but in all the time I've been here only two people have ever taken me to bed. Both were rather important Imperials though. Are you important? You must be, because Teddy doesn't really like 'loaning' me out, he says I remind him of his daughter." Harry scowled at that.

"I am the supreme commander of the Imperial Naval forces," Vader told him, smugly. Harry's eyes widened and he took a step back. "I would say I was important."

"Suppose that really helps attract women. Or men. Whatever. Though the suit gets in the way, I bet." Harry came towards Vader again, grinning up at the taller man.

"Like I said previously, I would not know."

Harry gave the Sith a two-handed shove, palms flat to the breastplate of Vader's suit. The man stumbled lightly, calves hitting against one of the divans that occupied the room and he fell, landing clumsily on the couch. Anger welled up inside of him, but before he could react, Harry had seated himself on Vader's thighs, one leg on either side of the man.

The brunette leered down at the masked man, and said, "Let's find out, shall we?"

Small hands pulled and prodded at the panels of his suit, fingers slid between the gaps trying to pry them apart and more than once Harry brushed against Vader's groin. The Sith Lord hadn't been sure if he was still capable of rising to the occasion, no one had garnered his attention sexually since his wife died and when he dreamt of her, they were nightmarish and not arousing. But his worries were unfounded, and Harry grinned at him, the heel on one hand rubbing against the bulge in Vader's trousers.

Vader tried to shove him back twice, but he didn't particularly like the way the brunette frowned at him. It made his heart ache. Like when Padme had wanted to do something that Anakin thought was too dangerous, one pout from her and he had agreed like a fool. And now it was happening again. Damn the Force, he couldn't bring himself to throw they boy off of him.

There was a piece of the suit that detached so that Vader could use the facilities, and Harry deftly pulled it off and dropped it to the floor. The leather underneath had a slit up the front, much like a pair of boxer shorts, and Harry reached his hand in through the gap and gave a rough tug.

Vader gasped, vocoder rumbling, as his hips arched up involuntarily. It had been such a long time since someone had touched him, down there or anywhere else, that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone's skin against his own. A moan escaped him as Harry continued to stroke, thumb pressing against the head. His own arms came up, fingers digging into Harry's waist, clinging to the boy with a grip that was going to leave bruises.

"If you really don't want to do this, you don't have to," Harry whispered, bending down so that his forehead was touching the mouthpiece of Vader's helmet. Vader's only response was to buck up into the hand that was still stroking him. Harry pressed his mouth to the mouthpiece, a soft smile on his lips before he swung his leg over Vader's waist. He stood beside the divan, looking down at the man who was staring at him through red-tinted optics. The cotton shorts slid the rest of the way down his legs, as Harry's hands pushed at the waistband. Naked, and erect, the boy moved to straddle the Sith Lord again. Vader's hands were on his hips, holding him in place as the man leant forward to press their foreheads together.

"I want to do this," he said, fingers squeezing soft flesh.

"Good." Harry leant forward, one hand supporting his weight beside Vader's shoulder. His other hand moved to his mouth, and Vader watched entranced as his tongue flicked across thin fingers. Harry sucked on his fingers, licking them much in the way Vader imagined he would a cock, and his own jumped at the image his brain supplied. A moan left him, and Harry merely smirked, moving his fingers from his mouth and towards his backside.

Vader couldn't see what he was doing, but he knew. Harry was panting, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, and his arm was moving, fingers pushing into his body one at a time. When Harry deemed himself sufficiently prepared, he removed his fingers. Both hands were on the divan, and Harry pushed himself back, sliding down Vader's body with a grin still in place. Harry was flushed, panting lightly, and his lips were pink and soft, and his mouth was wet and warm when Harry ducked his head to suck Vader's cock. Vader gave a groan, back arching as pleasure rocketed up his spine. He felt like he had been hit by lightning, but there was no pain. Just electrifying pleasure. The feel of Harry's mouth, Harry's hand that had slipped beneath the leather he wore to fondle his scrotum, Harry's skin pressed to his own, had his nerve endings singing, his blood rushing. His heart pounded frantically.

And Harry pulled away.

The boy crawled along the sofa, like a cat, back arched and head tilted to one side while he swung his arse teasingly. Vader's hands were on him again, gripping Harry under the arms and dragging the boy so that he was seated once more on the Sith's willing lap. His respirator struggled to keep up with his heaving chest, but Vader didn't concern himself with the fear that he might die. All he could think, see or feel was Harry.

The boy lifted himself up, one hand on Vader's cock, steadying and positioning it, and then he sunk down.

A startled cry left Vader, his head flew back, helmet striking the armrest of the divan with a loud smack. The hand that had slipped down to Harry's thigh squeezed, and the other hand pressed against the sofa. He raised his hips, pulling Harry down at the same time, and they both gasped as the movement forced the rest of Vader's length into the boy. Harry's head hung forward, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead and his lips parted with every laboured breath.

Vader wished that he could kiss the boy. He cursed the suit, cursed Obi-Wan and the fires of Mustafar that had ravished him, and then he cursed his wandering mind as Harry began to rock on top of him, startling him. The boy was hot around him, scorching almost, and Vader briefly wondered if he was being burnt up from the inside out this time, as pleasure coiled through his stomach. Harry's hands pressed against his chest, the red lights winking from between his splayed fingers. He rose up on his knees and fell back down, rotating his hips until he cried out, stars exploding behind his eyes as Vader struck his prostate. He kept that angle, riding the Sith, fast and furiously one minute, then slowing down at another, before speeding up again.

The hand moved from Harry's hip to grasp his neglected penis, and Vader tugged it lightly. He smirked beneath the mask as Harry threw his head back with a cry.

Time blurred as they moved together. Soft cries and pants drowned out the whoosh-whoosh of Vader's respiratory, and they ignored the sound of "Lord Vader?" being called from the hallway. When the sounds from outside the room stopped, the only words spoken were "more", and "please", and "oh Force"! Eventually, the semi-silence was broken by Harry's low keen, as his head dropped forward, and he came into Vader's fist. Fingers curled into claws, digging into Harry's side and leg, as Vader clung to him, using his grip to anchor himself to reality as the universe exploded inside of his mind. Pleasure coursed through him, positive feelings he hadn't known for nearly four years were alive within his soul, swirling and floating within him, rising up to smoother him, and only the feeling of Harry's heat gripping him tight kept him from passing out. Tears stung the broken skin of his cheeks, but he was unable to wipe them away. Instead, he picked the panting boy off of him, ignoring the sound of his cock slipping free, and with shaky legs he brought them both to the bedroom. He left Harry down on top of the duvet. Harry lay quietly, breathing harshly with his eyes half-closed, watching as Vader tucked himself back into his trousers. The armour plate was still in the entrance room, and Vader turned towards the door intent on retrieving it.

He was going to leave.

Harry had done what he had been paid to do, after all, so why would the teenager want to spend more time together? There was no Force insisting that Harry should want to be with him. Merely the other way around.

A hand curled around his, tanned fingers lacing together with leather-clad metal ones.

Vader looked down at the boy, who looked up at him half-lidded, smiling shyly through a fringe of dark hair. Like in his vision. Tanned skin was flushed and gleaming with sweat, looking uncomfortably. Vader felt uncomfortable under his heavy clothing, but outside of his hyperbaric chamber he could not undress.

"Get into bed," the boy ordered with that now-familiar smirk on his lips. "Your friend paid for the night; the night isn't over yet."

He thought about it, debated whether he should stay or simply insist the boy return with him to the Exactor. In the end, he said, "I do not have to return until the morning."

"Well then I hope you're an early riser!" Harry laughed, pulling on Vader's arm again until the man sat on the edge of the mattress. "Everyone here knows that I'll sleep till noon and don't like to be woken. So you're in charge of getting yourself up tomorrow!"

Vader gave a stiff nod. He laid back, helmet against the pillow, and gasped as Harry moved to curl up against his side. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Vader curled one arm under the boy, holding him lightly, and found that he wouldn't mind doing this every night. Except for the fact that dressed like this he would not be able to sleep. So instead he meditated as Harry slept. He searched through the Force, and against his better judgement he even reached out to his master, hoping that Palpatine could offer him guidance. Their bond was silent, but there was another presence there calling out to him. Vader's mind touched Harry's. While he wasn't a Jedi or a Sith, there was something other about the teenager in his arms, and as their minds connected Vader knew he had no other choice. He was filled with such a complete sense of wholeness. The broken parts of his soul seemed to weave together they longer they were joined, and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left the boy behind on Naboo.

Harry would become important to him. He didn't know when, or why, but he knew that that was a fact. Harry would be as important as Padme had been, but hopefully not as tragic, Vader prayed internally. He wouldn't survive the loss of another beloved. He had lost his wife and their child, dead at his own hands, and he promised himself he would die first before anyone would harm Harry. But first, he had to figure out how he would convince Harry to leave Naboo with him.


The Exactor was fixed and prepped to leave the System. Adam Rochers and six of the men who had accompanied him to the surface were back and waiting nervously in the loading bay. Darth Vader was missing.

They hadn't been able to find him in the Cantina, or the Casino, or upstairs, and they had knocked on every door but Lord Vader hadn't answered them. If the Sith didn't return within the next half hour, they would have to leave without him, and Adam knew they'd all face charges of conspiracy: would anyone believe Rochers had only wanted to socialize with the man? Of course not. But everyone would instantly accept that Rochers had tried to have Vader assassinated, even though it wasn't true and Adam stood to gain nothing from such a risky action. If Vader didn't come back unharmed soon, he and his friends would be out of a job. They'd also probably be executed.

"Has anyone 'Commed him?" The man, who had gone upstairs just before Vader, asked. "He has a private Com-unit doesn't he?"

"He is not responding." Was Captain Sturn's crisp reply.

They waited nervously, pacing or fiddling their thumbs or tapping their holstered weapons. Every now and then a Stormtrooper would raise his arm, and then lower it again as he realised whoever was approaching was not Darth Vader. Each time it happened, the collected group would let out groans and whimpers. Everyone else was working, or waiting in the communications room to start the flight warm-ups. The bachelor-party-group, the Captain, the Admiral and the Stormtroopers who would happily arrest the party-goers if Vader did not return, had forsaken their duties. They couldn't concentrate on work when their lives and careers were on the line.

"There!" Nathanial shouted, pointing.

A dark behemoth was slowly making his way through the forest that had landed beside. Rocks and stones almost seemed to jump out of his path, and the trees bent backwards out of his way, leaves fluttering with fear. The gathered men swallowed heavily, waiting for their punishment. It was only when Vader was standing directly before them that they noticed the dark-haired teenager who accompanied him.

"Rochers!" Vader bellowed.

"Y-Yes, sir?" The man stuttered, terror almost suffocating him.

"Thank you for inviting me. I had an extremely good night." Vader reached back to grab Harry's upper arm. He pulled the boy towards him, pressed tightly to Vader's side, and the others watched with their mouths open as Harry smiled widely up at the elder man.

It hadn't been hard to convince Harry to go with him, or to convince his boss to let him go. He was the teenager's new Daimyo now. It was a term that meant Lord or master, and the last two who were able to afford the boy had paid for him for a year, not a night. Harry was theirs, exclusively: their consort. And now he was Vader's. The Sith Lord was more than able to afford to pay for the next three years of Harry's services, but he had no intention of returning the boy when their contract ran out. He would simply return to Naboo with more money if it were necessary, but Harry was his now and he intended for it to remain that way.

The other Daimyo's had taken Harry away from Naboo for the year. They later brought him back, but Vader wouldn't.

Harry smiled up at him again, and Vader felt an answering, unseen smile stretching his own lips.

"Back to work," he ordered the officers. "We're due to depart soon. Come on, Harry, you'll want to be in the communications room when we enter hyperspace. There's no other sight like it," Vader whispered. The sound was loud and rumbly, like a bellow from a beast, but there was no mistaking the affection that laced those words.

The others watched as the Sith walked into the belly of the ship, the younger man following unhesitatingly. Rochers was the only one who didn't think the teenager was insane or being coerced. He was also the only one on board the Exactor that thought Vader was capable of human emotion as well though. Adam smiled as, in the distance, Harry leant up to press a kiss to Vader's armoured shoulder.


He stood in silence.

Lord Vader was storming through the communications room, glancing in turn at the officers who were thinking or talking about their mysterious new passenger. But Harry wasn't watching them. He wasn't listening to their murmured comments, or to their whispered questions, or to Vader's shouts for silence. He was looking out of the Star Destroyer's window instead. He had his hand pressed flat against the glass, fingers and the heel of his palm leaving smudges on the pane.

Harry watched the stars blur together, becoming white streaks of light against the blackness of hyperspace. He watched in silent pleasure as he flew towards his future.

The End

There it is. I actually want to add a second chapter, with some of Harry's background and his introduction to Coruscant… But there are other things I want to write first. But you never know!

Also, the suit!sex turned out to be not as sexy as I'd imagined. No wonder Vader never tried it out. Pouts! Hope it was worth your while though: if it was, leave a review :D