A/N: This is completely different to anything I've ever written before. There are mentions of rape (but as a concept, nothing graphic), implied sexual situations, homosexual pairings and m-preg. If any of that offends you, please don't continue. Also, I was very unsure of how to categorise this for both rating and genre. I apologise in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy and please review!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned here.
According to Voldemort, Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron and everyone else Harry knew, the sensations pulsing through his veins belonged to two emotions; humiliation and disgust. Yet the warm, soothing feeling bubbling in his chest was one of intense peace.
The teenager sighed to himself and let one hand drift over his stomach. There were, as yet, no visible signs of the changes, but nestled deep inside, somewhere, was a human being. A child. A tiny, half-formed creature who shared Harry's blood.
There had been offers, from the moment the boy-who-lived had returned (pale and breathless and bruised and tainted but blessedly alive) to purge the foetus from his body. To the surprise of all, Harry had refused. That day, and all days thereafter, there had been anxious whispers, bitten lips and unspoken questions.
Harry frowned, fingers still splayed over the pale skin. How could they expect him to kill something so innocent? How could they expect him to mercilessly destroy the one remaining member of his family? How could they expect him to reject such a blessing?
He had tried to explain, but they had not listened. Perhaps they never would.
There would be no more death. No glory, either, but… Harry smiled to himself. Glory, he had discovered, was vastly overrated.
It wasn't rape. Rape was a dark, dirty, brutal crime. The night that brilliant spark of life had been created, they had made love. It was hot and sweaty and painful and perfect, and although it was the first time they had met properly, Harry felt that he had been waiting for this moment all his life.
Upon his return to Grimmauld Place (that grubby, lonely house so full of silence and secrets) he had perused the library ruthlessly, searching for any lucrative scrap of knowledge available. The books on the subject came in two forms. There were the cold, clean, impersonal, useless ones. Then there were the others, reeking of the heady aroma of dark magic, the ones which referred to "packs" and "alphas" and "urges" and, most importantly, "mates".
An ironic grin flickered over Harry's lips. What cruel injustice, to find his soulmate under such barbaric circumstances!
Be patient, my little cub, the werewolf had muttered to him as they were dragged apart. Harry let the memory wash over him, the mere voice sending shivers down his spine. "I'll wait," he vowed, a whisper in his silent bedroom.
It was the ultimate shame, Voldemort had crowed in his voice thick with malice. The chosen one, the Light side's saviour, raped and impregnated by a werewolf, no less!
The teenager shook his head almost fondly. "I win again," he mused aloud with an uncharacteristic smirk.
Harry would stay until the child was born. And then he would return to the werewolf. To the monster. To his mate.
The Order of the Phoenix, huddled together in Grimmauld Place's dark kitchen, glanced upwards as one. From somewhere upstairs, the sound of loud, raucous laughter echoed through the building.
The Light side shivered.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Once again, I'd be really grateful for any reviews.