Weakness

by: malfoymannor

Summary: Maybe Voldemort had found a way to win after all, by using Harry's true weakness. Him.

Rating: M, mild smut in here.

Word Count: 1,545

A/N: I got this little plot bunny, and would not go away until I wrote it. Slightly AU, set during Deathly Hallows.


Harry found himself walking down the long hall that was the Chamber of Secrets. He didn't remember how or why he was there, but he was. It was the same as the last time he'd seen it, dark and wet, with high pillars and snake carvings everywhere. The one prominent thing that was missing would be the corpse of the basilisk that he killed back in second year. It was eerily silent compared to the last time he was down here. He walked down the long runway to the large statue of Salazar Slytherin, and the previous home to his basilisk. He wearily walked a few more steps forward, wand out and ready to strike, when it flew out of his hand and into the hand of a shadowed stranger standing behind one of the large pillars.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, feeling a bit defenseless without his wand. "Give me my wand back," Harry repeated.

He moved closer to the mysterious figure, and the possibilities of who it could be were limited, but his mind drew a blank to who could be in the chamber with him, seeing as he was one of the only people that knew of its existence. He stepped closer to the direction in which his wand flew, and saw the shadow move again. The person was tall, and had the body type of a man, someone around Harry's own age.

"Reveal yourself, stranger," Harry said again.

"I'd hardly call us strangers, Harry," said the figure as they emerged from the darkness, twirling Harry's wand in their hands, the tell all smirk on his handsome face.
Harry gasped, "H-how is t-this possible?"

"What? No faith in me, love? You of all people should know that this is very possible," Tom said as he smirked at Harry.

"Don't call me that," Harry said completely in shock by the turn of events, and he moved further away from Tom Riddle.

"Alright, well will you at least stay and talk with me?" he said, moving closer as Harry moved away.

"No, I don't want anything to do with you or Voldemort," Harry said angrily, holding his stance. His indignation got the better of his shock.

"Well, I do believe that is a lie," Tom said, lazily twirling Harry's wand as he had all those years ago.

"N-no it's not," Harry stuttered out, but still didn't move from the spot, but his eyes flicked from Tom's hands as they held his wand.

"Well you see, you thought you were the only one who knew the little secret that you were the seventh Horcrux," Tom began, "but no. I've known for some time that after the diary was destroyed, I was not gone. I was kept alive in the memory from the part of Voldemort's soul that lies within you."

"I-I-," said Harry as he tried to put together all the thoughts in his head.

"I also know the other little secret you're hiding," Tom said as he slunk towards Harry, as predator to its prey would. Tom circled Harry and stopped in front of him, towering above him.

Harry gulped, and thought he couldn't possibly know, that's the secret burried deepest in my mind, the most humiliating thing ever. My one true weakness, the thing that could be the end of all things.

"I know you harbor an attraction to me in this form," Tom whispered in Harry's ear, "Ever since the day we met in here all those years ago in this chamber."

Tom licked the shell of Harry's ear, his breath hot against the coolness that was Harry's skin. Goosebumps erupted up and down Harry's arms, and he had to try his hardest not to let a moan slip from his lips. Tom looked satisfied with this, and Harry blushed a deep scarlet red, not used to attention of that kind.

"So it's a blushing bride we have?" Tom said, "are you a virgin?" he whispered in Harry's ear.

"I-ump-I-," Harry tried to get out, but he couldn't string together a sentence with Tom standing so close; is that cologne? Harry thought.

"I'll take that to be a yes," Tom said. He took a step back and looked at Harry; stormy grey eyes met the green meadows of summer in a battle unlike one to ever happen before, or ever again.

Tom stepped impossibly closer to Harry, so that their breath was floating on the others cheeks. Tom tenitively leaned in and brushed their lips together, just a tease. Harry's breath hitched and his eyes closed as he waited for more. Seconds later, Tom pressed his smooth lips to Harry's chapped ones, adding slow pressure. Harry startled at the kiss, but put his hands on Tom's chest to. He caught Harry's bottom lip between his teasingly before pulling away.

Harry's face was red and flushed, lips swollen and eyes half-lidded with want. Harry grabbed Tom by the shirt and pulled him against him, gaining confidence. He smashed their lips together in a teeth heavy kiss, and Tom's tongue flicked out to trace the line of Harry's front teeth. Harry moaned and allowed Tom's tongue to enter his mouth. He moved his hands from Tom's chest to pull them closer. He grabbed hold of his dark curly hair, giving it a soft tug as an experiment. When Tom growled in response, he took that as a sign.

Tom walked them backwards until they hit the concrete wall, Harry back first. Tom broke the kiss and looked into Harry's eyes and saw them dark with desire. Tom latched his lips to Harry's neck and sucked on his pulse point, ripping a guttural moan from Harry's lips.

Harry blushed deeply when he felt Tom's hand probe lower, past his beltline and over the bulged in his pants. Harry moaned loudly, loving the feeling of being touched for the first time. He tried to push the feeling of low self-confidence away. He pushed his hips forwards into Tom's hand impatient with the teasing.

"My, my, aren't you impatient," he said, his voice low gravel. Tom reattached their lips and Harry noted that he had a faint taste of coffee and mint, and he smelled like some kind of cologne and an old book, which was apparently pleasing to Harry because of how turned on he was.

Harry heard the zipper to his pants being undone and felt Tom's hand reach into his briefs and relieved him of them. He knew he wouldn't last long at this point; his arousal level was through the roof. Tom started pumping him in hand, varying in pressure and speed based on the noises Harry was making.

Harry threw his head back and hit the concrete, but he didn't care. He was on cloud nine, soaring above the stratosphere. He felt his release coming quickly, he was screaming out, "Tom, I love you," before any other rational thought could stop him.

Tom broke away with a choke of laughter, and Harry cast a quick cleaning spell and zippered himself back up. He looked at Tom with a weary look, feeling shame sweep through him.

"Tom?" Harry said quietly.

Tom bit back more laughter as he looked up at Harry. When he met his eyes, he didn't see the soft grey eyes he looked into earlier; no, he saw the scarlet red ones of Lord Voldemort, out of place on Tom's regal face.

"You really are foolish, Potter. You love me, you say?" Tom said, sneering, "you could love the person who killed your parents, your friends?" Tom said.

"Tom, I- it's different-,"he Harry began.

"No, you listen. I'll never love you," Tom said, "can't you see I'm using you, you foolish boy? Or are you that pathetic, to believe someone like me could ever love someone like you. I'm messing with your head to get to you. But you would actually believe I could want you?"

Tom's manic laughter filled the chamber, as Harry's eyes filled with tears, stinging his eyes and fogging his glasses. He blinked, willing them to go away. He straightened his shoulders and held his head high, but when he lifted his eyes back to Tom, he was met with the serpentine features of Lord Voldemort, not the regal features of Tom Riddle. Harry gasped as he looked at Voldemort. Voldemort smiled a vile smile at him and moved closer as—-

Harry jolted awake, tears streaming down his face. He was met with the cold snowy winter of the Forrest of Dean, and he'd fallen asleep with the horcrux around his neck again.

Hermione came from the tent, and looked at Harry, seeing his distress, "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm okay, just tired," Harry said. He handed her the horcrux and went into the tent. He tried to shake the feel of Tom's lips on his, or the feel of his body on his, but he couldn't. As hard as he tried, he couldn't shake it. Voldemort had found the one way to break Harry, and he had played right into Voldemort's hands.

Maybe Voldemort had found a way to win after all, by using Harry's true weakness.

Him.