Christmas the Unusual Usual Way

Summary: Christmas celebration with two of the strongest wizards in the world. Slash.

Pairing/s: VoldemortHarry, RonDraco.

Warnings: Slash, bad!Light, bad!Dumbledore and such.

Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter.

My yearly Christmas-oneshot! I was thinking of doing something sweet and fluffy with child!Harry, but I knew I couldn't escape my VoldemortHarry-love. So there you have it. VoldemortHarry-love with Christmas spirit.


Harry Potter, 28 years old, woke up slowly, twisting amongst the black, silken sheets. Tousled dark hair fell over his eyes and he turned to his stomach. A shape moved towards the bed, red eyes glowing softly.

"Don't think about groping me," Harry muttered and waved a sleepy finger at the figure.

The world's most known wizard, the Dark Lord Voldemort, grinned at that before climbing into the bed and stroking a hand down the sleep-warm back. His own dark hair fell across his eyes and he swept it away with a long-fingered hand. Most people thought he had the face of a snake. He let those most people think that; they were idiots anyway if they thought he couldn't get his old, more pleasant-looking body back.

"Morning, love," he said and Harry turned his head to him.

"Hello," he muttered and accepted the kiss Voldemort gave him. He rubbed his eyes and continued, "What time is it?"

"Shy after nine," Voldemort said.

"What are you doing up then?" Harry grumbled and burrowed back down, glancing up at him.

"Last minute paperwork," the man said with a shrug as he made himself comfortable. "You looked so cute I didn't wake you up."

"I don't look cute," Harry protested and the Dark Lord only strokes his hair. "Anyway, what paperwork?"

"Paperwork I didn't think about until the last minute."


"Boring things I didn't want looming over the holidays," the man said and trailed a finger down Harry's spine. He moved down his head and kissed near Harry's neckline, on the spine and hummed deep in his throat before laying down to rest beside his lover.

"Did we have any plans for the holidays?" Harry asked.

"Except for the customary banquets and balls? I might have one or two."

Harry groaned when Voldemort mentioned the banquets and balls. "Do we have to?" he whined.

"Yes, we must at least show our faces," Voldemort said regretfully. "Speak a word or two with the host, smile and then sweep out in a dramatic fashion."

"You don't smile without looking deranged or mad," Harry pointed out.

"Alright, you smile and I look all Dark Lordly."

"I can't believe you just said lordly," Harry snorted and sat up. The sheets pooled in his lap, showing his pale, flawless chest and back. Voldemort's hand clamped over one of the hips and the man looked hungrily at him.

"I have the schedules for them all," the Dark Lord finally said and sat up.


"Do get over with them as soon as possible," Voldemort said. "I have plans."

"Oh really? Does one of them have me in it?"

"Yes," the man said. "Without clothes of course."

"Figures," Harry muttered.

He should know better. After all, he had been together with the Dark Lord for over ten years. The Light supporters still left in the world still claimed he had been brainwashed. He never denied the fact he had been kidnapped by Voldemort by the age of sixteen.

The summer after Sirius had died, Harry had pretty much stopped caring about life and what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to kill Voldemort. Really, what for? For who? Parents he never knew? People who thought him insane one moment and demanded heroic acts in the next?

For his friends? Few friends were they. Hermione was too blinded by Dumbledore to even listen to his concerns. Ginny was too Light, and really, all she wanted was to become Mrs Potter and become famous that way. Neville was clumsy but painfully Gryffindor; he never understood Harry's pain. His classmates always said he was the one to save them.

Ron was a different matter though. Harry never told Ron a thing about what he thought, but only found out later that Ron followed him through thick and thin, no matter what his opinions were. He and his brothers, along with Luna, followed him when he made himself known again to the world, two years after his kidnap.

Of course, by then, he had already turned to the dark.

The day of his kidnapping had been surprisingly normal. He got up, got yelled at for no reason by Vernon, had to make their breakfast, and then put to work. Cleaning the garden, weeding, watering, then in for a quick lunch that wouldn't satisfy a two-year old, and then Petunia had sent him to the nearby shop for some groceries. Dudley's taunting had followed him until he slammed the door shut behind him.

It hadn't been the moment he walked out from the wards. It happened when he walked through a park towards the shop. Suddenly, a strong arm around his waist, he was picked up and the discouraging sensation of Apparition. In short, he vomited when landing.

Looking up he had seen none other than Voldemort himself. One would have expected Harry to yell and scream and try to run. But honestly? It had been a long summer. Lots of yelling. Loads of nightmares. Night after night of crying into his pillow at the loss of his godfather. Food being kept from him, throat often raspy due to the lack of water.

Instead he had stayed where he was, on the ground, and bluntly asked:

"Now what? If you're going to kill me, be bloody quick about it."

He didn't even think about Petunia and her bloody groceries. She could well damn go and get them herself. Lazy sodden woman…

And Voldemort hadn't killed him. Instead he had sat the boy down at a table, with a cup of not-poisoned tea and told him what he had inside himself. A part of Voldemort. That Dumbledore had raised him to be slaughter cattle. That Harry's entire life had been planned out by the man ever since his parents died.

Harry had thought universe was screwing with him already. But this? This made him bloody mad. He had destroyed the room he was in with his accidental magic, and Voldemort had looked faintly amused.

After that, they started to work together. Or well, Harry was given some well-needed time for himself to grow his health back. Voldemort updated him what happened in the world, what happened at Hogwarts and the Order and his friends. Harry hadn't been all that interested at first, ignoring his news by reading a book or holding hands over his ears.

But when he heard his first friend's fierce loyalty he had been touched. Then the twins followed, and at last Luna. That was good. He liked Fred and George, and Luna's oddity had grown on him.

The Weasley twins were the first to meet him, six months after his disappearance. They had expected a pale, skinny boy.

Harry had instead grown taller, grown lean instead of gaunt but his skin pale as snow, as he never ventured outside, and his eyes hauntingly green. The scar on his forehead standing out like blood on paper, and his hair to his shoulders and gently tousled, not the usual rat-nest. The glasses were gone, unneeded ever since a correction spell had made his eyes see perfectly at long last.

Instead of the baggy clothes Fred and George were used seeing him Harry had been dressed in rich robes, and had a whole chamber complete with en-suite bathroom all for himself.

They couldn't be happier for him. It was around that time Harry and Voldemort had been growing closer. It had taken them some more time before it all spiralled down and Harry ended up in Voldemort's bed, naked. Disgusting, judging by the age difference? To the Light it was. Harry bloody didn't care. Voldemort was a good shag, a wonderful lover, and he had taught Harry to enjoy the finer way of killing while simultaneously having a good time.

Now Harry got up from the bed, Voldemort chuckling darkly seeing the man's naked frame and Harry raised an eyebrow as a reply. He wasn't ashamed to stand naked in front of Voldemort. If he ever had been ashamed or shy the Dark Lord would have sorted it by ripping the clothes off him and stared at him anyway. It was simply no point in being shy around the man.

"Mm, I like that robe," Voldemort said and wrapped his arms around the man.

"What robe? I'm not wearing any robe."

"Exactly. You look perfect just like this."

"Well, thank you but I don't think Ron fancies seeing me starkers," Harry said, amused. "Plus you'd get jealous and end up shagging me against a wall when I want a fancy dinner, candles, romance and a good, soft bed to lie on while you fuck the sense out of me."

Voldemort growled and bit his neck. Harry groaned before grinning.

"Deal?" he said, not backing down.

The Dark Lord withdrew, looking at him.

"Fancy dinner?" he said.


"How many candles?"

"Many," Harry purred.

"What kind of romance?"

"I wouldn't say no to a couple of roses and a nice wine. And some kisses."

"And then bed, me, you and fucking?" the Dark Lord demanded.

"Yep. All night if you want to."

"Then it's a deal. Now, you, shower. I'll pick out your clothes."

"I trust that you will choose something good," Harry warned. "Or you can forget about the shagging."

"I'll be good," Voldemort purred and licked his ear, causing Harry to shiver. "Alright?"

"… Alright."

Harry was let go and he vanished into the bathroom while Voldemort sat down with a happy sigh. He was in his private rooms, no one to watch him, his naked lover showering just nearby; he was allowed a little sappiness, alright?


Ron must have arrived just minutes ago, seeing as the man hadn't touched the tea just yet when Harry sat down in the armchair in the sitting room. Ron grinned at him and whistled seeing the robes.

"Bit tight, ain't they mate?" he said.

"Don't look at me," Harry growled. "Voldemort picked them out. I can't breathe!"

"Sure you can," Ron said. "He just wants to see every tiny detail of you."

"Then he wouldn't drag me around at parties and banquets and balls," the man grumbled and took a cup of tea. The house-elves had prepared for them both and now Ron stretched out to take his own.

He had grown into his height, and was strong and lean with often red robes to match his ginger hair. He looked good, fantastic even, if Draco had any say in it.

Yes, imagine the shock and surprise when Harry had been told by both Ron and Draco that they were trying to date. Each other. And that was five years ago, and they were still going strong.

"Draco around?" Harry asked.

"With his father," Ron said. "He'll be meeting me at the Minister's banquet later."

"You're going there as well?" Harry asked. "Actually, that's my second place for the day."

"How many do you have today?"

"No idea," he groaned. "I just know the second is that one. Oh Merlin, can't the day be over already?"

"Get used to it, mate," Ron said. "You'll probably do them for the rest of your life."

Harry whined and looked like a stubborn child, causing Ron to laugh.


The first one he didn't really know many there, but Voldemort did. They did the customary smiling ('they' meaning Harry), handshaking and words with the hosts before mingling a little while. Then Voldemort swept him out and to the next, the Minister's.

There he managed to grab a hold of Ron and Draco instead of smiling and handshaking his way through the room like Voldemort was doing. Ron laughed before handing over Harry the rest of his drink, Draco sharing his with Ron.

"Not enjoying yourself?" Draco asked, bemused.

"You kidding me?" Harry said. "How can people stand this?"

"They're born into it," the blonde said. "Like me. Ron isn't nearly as comfortable with it."

"I grew up in a misplaced three-story house that seemed to be on the brink of collapse half the time," Ron replied. "Of course I'm not bloody comfortable in here."

Draco chuckled and drew him closer, kissing him on the temple.

"You're doing fine, just as Harry is," he said. "You Gryffindors are good at acting."

"We're bloody miracles," Harry muttered and then felt a hand on his waist, looking to his side to see Voldemort. "Finished?"

"Not quite. I spotted Lucius over there, I would like a word with him if he can tag along with us."

"You don't want to do the handshaking alone?" Harry asked.

"My hand is getting tired," the Dark Lord said absently, "plus it wouldn't hurt to have a right-hand man with me."

"And what am I?"

"Devil's left hand," Voldemort muttered and Harry mustered an 'Oi!' before subtly kicking him.


Harry collapsed onto a couch in the living room, groaning and ripping off his white, thin gloves and wrestling out of the robe, the boots thudding as they hit the floor.

Voldemort looked on, amused, before saying:

"Undressing already, Harry?"

"I'll choke otherwise," Harry whined and didn't sound like the grown man he was. "And don't say my name that way, you pervert."

"My, my, testy aren't we?"

"Oh, shut it," Harry growled and got up, stalking over to where Voldemort had seated himself in an armchair. The Dark Lord looked mildly amused as the younger man straddled his lap.

They both hummed as their lips met, Voldemort tilted his head a bit to the side so their noses wouldn't bump together. Harry moved closer, relaxing, the tension in his shoulders vanishing as he was embraced.

They separated and Harry rested his forehead against Voldemort's.

"Too long day?" Voldemort whispered.

"Yes," the man replied and moved to nip at his ear.

"Sorry, love. I'll try better next year. One day or another people won't invite me to so many different occasions."

"Or you won't go to them all."

"That would be rude."

"And you wouldn't be as tense as me if you calmed down a bit," Harry said. "Relax. It's been years since our victory. They believe in you, Tom."

Voldemort groaned hearing his birth name being hissed out. It wasn't often Harry called him that, and once he did it was always in Parseltongue.

But he managed to regain his control and kissed Harry softly before saying:

"We can't get to the good part just yet. You're starving."

"Yes, I am. What are you going to do about it?"

"Well, you said fancy dinner. I'll give you fancy dinner."

Harry was dumped in the armchair and blinked owlishly up at his lover. Voldemort leaned down and said:

"You stay right where you are while I fix the last details."

"Mmm, did you have a talk with the house-elves before we left, love?"

"Of course I did," Voldemort said. "Who do you think I am?"

"A horny pervert."

"Yes, well, I do like to reward you sometimes for being so patient with me. Now, don't move."

He swept out of the room and Harry grinned like a lunatic.

By the time Voldemort returned Harry had been wrestled into more comfortable robes by the house-elves (thanks to the Dark Lord telling them) and Voldemort licked his lips seeing the black-green robes on his lover. Harry got up from the armchair as he returned and Voldemort stretched out an arm, sighing contently as Harry settled into his side, having to slightly peer up at him.

"Ready for your fancy dinner?" the Dark Lord asked, eyebrow quirked.

"Starving," Harry said.

Voldemort didn't lead him to the dining room, for which he was glad for. The room was a tad too big for just the two of them. Instead Voldemort led him up the stairs and to what Harry had named the sun room due to its high window and perfect location in summer.

He did grin seeing all the candles and was helped to sit down.

"You're spoiling me," he said and was pleased when Voldemort sat down next to him.

"And that's a bad thing?"

"I'm might become obstinate," the man said with a shrug.

"You already are."

"You're feeding my ego."

"Oh, I don't think I can feed it enough," the Dark Lord said and handed Harry a glass of dark red wine.

As they ate, very little was spoken about Christmas itself. Harry had never been one big for gifts, and well, Voldemort had never really gotten any. They usually got each other one each, and Harry received some trinkets from his friends. Many letters though, to both of them. Usually to wish them a joyful holiday. It always made Harry snort that people actually wished the Dark Lord a joyful holiday.

Dessert was strawberries with cream, and lots of sugar. Harry's favourite. He got sick of sitting alone though, and climbed over to Voldemort, plopping himself down on the Dark Lord's lap.

"Spoiled brat," Voldemort said fondly.

"Shut up and kiss me."

"This the romance bit?"

"Oh, yes, because this is about as romantic you get," Harry said. "Remember, the soft bed before any shagging can begin."

"I'll do my best to keep that in mind."


The clock got closer to midnight and the manor was silent. A few lights were on but the fires had been put out by the house-elves as they prepared the manor for the night.

Harry moaned and moved to half-lie on top of Voldemort. The man stroke the younger one's back, trailing beads of sweat and watched as the green eyes slowly opened. Tired and sated, Harry was the perfect picture of debauched. And smug about it.

"Good?" the Dark Lord said.

"Mmm, definitely good. Merry Christmas, you pervert."

Voldemort grinned and moved so Harry was under him, the Dark Lord looming above. The younger man blinked owlishly, then reached out to grab Voldemort's hand and bringing them together in a soft kiss. The smell of sweat and sex was strong in the room, but neither minded. They'd had plenty of time to get used to it.

"Have any plans for tomorrow?" Harry whispered as the kisses grew more fervent, Voldemort sneaking down to nip as his jaw, his throat, hands ghosting along Harry's sides and making him arch up.

"Had plans," Voldemort murmured, locking his lips over one nipple and making Harry cry out before releasing it to grin at his lover. "Don't have anymore."


"Cancelled them," the dark wizard said and trailed his hands lower, rubbing Harry's thighs as he moved in between them. "So you got me all to yourself tomorrow."

"Hmm…" Harry glanced at the clock. As it struck midnight, he let loose a grin of his own. "Well, then. It's a new day. All to myself. Better get busy then."

Their grins turned mad before they started to kiss again. Maybe not the most normal Christmas for most people, but for Harry Potter and the Dark Lord Voldemort, it was the most comforting thing they knew.


I had to make it sappy in the end, didn't I? I just couldn't resist it. Oh well. That's fine too I guess.

Hope you enjoyed!

Until another time,