Disclaimer: nothing that is related to HP belongs to me.
Warning: abuse, rape, underage sex, violence, everything is bad and don't read it
A/N: I know the story is going very slow and is all mushy and touchy but I simply cannot write it differently. In my point of view it is a most monotone, complex and difficult process of a monster transforming into a man. So be patient or simply leave it. Thank you and my best regards to those who take their time to write a few kind words as a review - you are the best!
Of Monsters and Men, Of Fathers and Sons.
Severus jerked in his seat at the sharp sound of his floo coming to life. Had he fallen asleep in his armchair? Groaning, the potions master bent forward to stretch his stiffened back.
"Severus, we have to have a very serious talk," was his boss' greeting. Blinking owlishly at the headmaster, whose presence instantly lightened up his gloomy living room, Severus simply nodded and weakly raised his hand to gesture in the direction of the sofa, indicating for Dumbledore to make himself at home. As if he never did so anyway. "We found Harry, he doesn't answer our call... I will need you to check on him and the child, which must be due to come now," the old wizard said, sitting down and watching him intently.
"And how do you suggest I will do it, when Potter ignored even you?" He knew Dumbledore would come to him after he found himself incapable of penetrating the wards, his lord knew that as well.
"I am sure he would let you help him with the delivery," the headmaster nodded confidently. "He is hidden behind very powerful wards, Severus. Forgive me for being suspicious, but you are one of the few powerful enough to be able to put up such an admirable protection... I cannot ignore this fact," he shrugged his shoulders apologetically and gave Severus a kind smile.
"Albus, you know I would have never placed any kind of protection on Potter without consulting with you first... the Dark Lord would have had my head for this as well!" the potions master sighed heavily in exasperation. "Perhaps, he found the boy but never told me? He often does that nowadays - he doesn't trust anyone. What kind of wards are you talking about anyway?"
Dumbledore considered him for a moment, seemingly deciding whether he should believe his words or his own intuition, but then he simply smiled and let out a small sigh of relief, "Yes, you may be right, my boy." The old wizard stood up and paced the small room a few times, stroking his long, white beard thoughtfully. "The wards are made of blood, very powerful blood, I must admit. Harry never once answered even to his friends' calls, which disturbs me greatly."
"As I have already told you before: their participation is useless and most inconvenient. Imagine, if the Dark Lord has found him, would Potter be stupid enough to contact his only friends and put their lives in danger?" Severus raised his eyebrows skeptically, blindly reaching out for a cup of strong coffee, that appeared on the table next to his seat.
"But what of the child, Severus? What would Voldemort do with it?" the headmaster waved his hands helplessly, looking at the potions master as if he was a Seer who held all the answers.
"How the hell would I know?" he snarled back, irritated.
"That is why I need you to help me in this, Severus," Dumbledore came closer and hovered over him, looking him straight in the eye, "You must ask Voldemort to let you check on your son and help him. There is nobody else who could place these wards on the house, if he found them then we have only one chance of getting them out of there." And destroying them both, Severus finished for him inwardly. "Voldemort is insane and another living horcrux will leave Harry unprotected, useless, Severus, don't you see, he will kill our boy without any hesitation."
Ignoring the tears on the old, wrinkled face, Severus huffed and stood up sharply, trying to escape the oppressing shadow of the Light Lord. "I understand, Albus, I am not blind, nor am I stupid. I will do what you ask of me, but if Potter refuses to go, I will not force him - I might not have such an opportunity in the first place, you understand, don't you?"
"I understand," Dumbledore said gravely, rubbing his blackened hand absentmindedly. "It is just that I don't have much time left, my boy, you see," he smiled ruefully, and brushed a few tears off of his cheeks. "I didn't have an opportunity to instruct Harry on the matter of other horcruxes and their destruction. I am too weak, and you, Severus, are too valuable to be sent on the hunt. Only Harry can do it."
"Is he supposed to kill himself after he destroyed all the other horcruxes?" the potions master asked quietly, watching the old wizard with pity and hatred, both hidden behind the blank, bored look, that he had been developing for so many years. Dumbledore had lost his own sanity in his fight for the righteous cause of the Light. He had the nerve to tell him that his son must have been killed along with his grandchild for the greater good, for the abominable muggles' lives and their assimilation with wizards. Voldemort was never a fair leader but he, at least, never veiled the necessity of sending his servants to death behind a noble sacrifice for the cause. And he wanted to secure their world, to never let muggles in it - and that was right, Severus knew it in his heart, it was right and he was prepared to fight for it, no matter the consequences. However, now that he had Harry and Domhnall... and he did have them, didn't he? They were his family now, his real, own family. Now he had to think of a better way of managing all the spying by, preferably, staying alive, and keeping them alive as well.
"You make it sound like it is me who is killing him," Dumbledore hunched his shoulders and hid his face in his hands, as he turned away and paced the room once more. "No, I would never make Harry face such a terrible, degrading end," he rubbed on his eyes and brow, sighing tiredly, sadly. "Harry must be the one who kills Voldemort. It is only fair to give him a chance to vanquish him again and forever. He will have to, unfortunately, die in the process by Voldemort's own hand... But his death would never be in vain!" he turned sharply to give the potions master a most determined look. His pale blue eyes were not twinkling, but burning with passion and grief, but with confidence as well.
Who's the crazy megalomaniac now? "So it is me, who is to finish either the Dark Lord or Potter off when the time comes, is that what you are saying? For there is a one chance out of a million that they would kill each other simultaneously," Severus shook his head at the insanity of the idea. Even if he had been in fact against Voldemort and if he had hated Harry as much as he used to think he did, even then he would have never agreed to this atrocity. "I can't kill Potter, I am under the vow, you know that."
"Yes," the headmaster nodded, averting his eyes, "And you are his father after all. No, I have made arrangements, when such time comes, there will be a person to finish one of them off, as you phrased it."
His friends? The members of the Order couldn't know of horcruxes and Harry's connection to the Dark Lord, so none of them could fulfill the task. Who could this person be? No one in his sane mind would kill the Boy-Who-Lived just because Dumbledore had given the order... Perhaps, it was going to be not a very sane person after all? Severus tapped on his lips thoughtfully, as he pondered over yet another little obstacle. There was no telling when will this situation transpire: a fight between the Dark Lord and Harry, but he knew now he had to do everything in his power to prevent it from happening. He had to warn his master.
"I am very, very sorry, Severus, for all the horrors I have to put you through, but we live in the dark times and hope is our only source of light, that would, one day, lead us to a brighter, better future," the old wizard came closer and patted the potions master's shoulder, smiling softly at him. "Please, visit Harry as soon as possible, he is our only hope."
Wasn't it ironic, that Dumbledore was going to kill his only hope before it led him to his better future? It wasn't Voldemort, it was this old fool who had been constantly, gradually destroying everything that Severus loved and held dear. "Yes, Albus, I will try later today, after classes are over."
"So he wants us to meet in the battle and kill each other?" Voldemort confirmed, "After Harry has destroyed my horcruxes?"
"Yes, my lord," Severus nodded and sipped on his tea. He began finding it rather comfortable and nice to live in his mansion, he didn't really mind the company anymore. He knew he should have moved here sooner, but what was the point if he lived at Hogwarts ten months a year?
The Dark Lord shook his head and burst into a booming laughter, that echoed deafeningly across the spacious library. "The old fool!" Voldemort lay on his favourite sofa, with his legs placed high up on its back, and his whole body shook and his cheeks blushed slightly, as he laughed. "He will be in for a very big surprise!"
"But what of Harry, my lord?" the potions master put his china away and shifted in his seat more comfortably. "He wouldn't kill you, of course, nor would he participate in any of Dumbledore's schemes, but he wouldn't sit in the golden cage and wait for your treats either." He arched his eyebrows sarcastically, at the somewhat surprised look his master gave him.
"Yes, you are most certainly right, Severus," Voldemort sighed. Harry's stubbornness was what kept his mind occupied these past few days ever since the young wizard gave him his ultimatum. "I do not wish to keep him in any kind of a cage, but for now this would have to suffice, no harm must come to him and the child while we are establishing our regime."
"How are you going to make the other bills pass, my lord? Should we take Wizengamot's members hostages again?"
"No, no," he waved his hand dismissively at the idea, "This is boring and not as efficient as we thought. They are so stupid they can't even see the real danger anymore. All they know is that I am a psychotic murderer and muggles are their best friends. What we should do..." Voldemort slowly sat up, lowering his long legs down and crossing them elegantly, "Is change their perspective, their mindsets."
Well, isn't it your own fault they see you as a an evil maniac? "How?" Severus rested his chin on his curled palm and stared at his lord in wonder.
"There are ways," the Dark Lord brushed his hair back and tucked it behind his ears, which made him look younger, more innocent than ever. "First, we could work through the press. What was the name of that reporter who wrote about Harry and his insanity after my resurrection? Yes, Skeeter. Well, we could make her work for us. Tell people the truth, write the true stories of abuse and violence that wizards and witches have to endure from muggles."
"It would be hard to find enough witnesses, my lord," Severus involuntarily tensed, as the images of his own childhood mixed up with the images of his son being raped and clouded his vision. None of them could possibly share this with the others even for the sake of their survival.
"Neither you, nor Harry would have to do it," the blood red eyes gave him the most understanding look he could ever expect to get from the Dark Lord. Was his master talking from experience? "I know enough of those who have a few stories to share, besides, most are not as sensitive and dignified as you are, Severus. A few galleons and they would tell you everything," Voldemort rolled his eyes and frowned, visibly brushing away the problem out of his mind. "Then, apart from the press, we could instigate a few real fights and conflicts between wizards and muggles, to make others see just what exactly is happening. There are hundreds of Vernons Dursleys in this country, it would be quite easy," he smiled crookedly, though his eyes narrowed and Severus couldn't help but shiver at the sensation of anger and hatred coming in waves from the man. It seemed his lord loathed the fat bastard even more than he himself did.
"Wouldn't we start what we are trying to prevent? A war against muggles?" the potions master asked, clearing his throat. This was a fine plan, but a very dangerous one.
"We would have to be careful and obliviate quite a lot of that muggle scum but it would be worth it," Voldemort nodded confidently, relaxing slowly and keeping his emotions in check. "Then, and this is, I believe, the most important part, we could find a spokesman of sorts, whom our society likes and trusts, our personal Dumbledore if I may say so..." he laughed again, bitterly this time. "This delegate of ours would give them mental pabulum they would be chewing on and slowly, steadily coming to their senses."
"But who could possibly this delegate be?" Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise. Of course his lord was right and brilliant as ever - this was the most simple, yet the most efficient solution to their problem, but he couldn't imagine who would have been intelligent and light enough to take on such a significant role. "Not one of us, not Lucius, surely, even though he is quite trusted at the Ministry."
"No, no, Lucius is obviously dark and evil just as we are," Voldemort shook his head, laughing quietly. "I have been thinking about this for a long time, evaluating different candidates, but there is only one person who could pull this off," he gave Severus a pointed look and smiled evilly at him. "It is Harry Potter."
"But..." Severus felt as his jaw hung down slightly and he hastily pulled himself together. "But this is going against everything we have discussed for so many times! This is the opposite of keeping him safe!" He couldn't help but sit up rigidly in his armchair.
"Calm down, Severus, and listen to me carefully," Voldemort glared at his potions master and, habitually rubbing on his dimpled chin, elaborated, "Right now they all believe that Harry is at some secret training abroad, which is preposterous and must be refuted, of course. It is his choice what would he come up with but he must make them see that the Light hadn't done anything for him or them. Harry would tell them that Dumbledore is a liar and a madman, that we, our cause, is what is right for them. It wouldn't be untrue - he agrees with my bills, I know that for certain."
"But how are we going to make Harry do it? I doubt he would agree... He wouldn't leave Domhnall for this," Severus still felt confused but deep inside he knew his lord was right. Harry was as light as they came, he was almost as powerful as Dumbledore already, and he was, in fact, pure and kind. Of course he would be believed and trusted, heard. But once again it was something decided behind his back, which, Severus knew from experience, Harry hated.
"His participation is my problem, Severus," Voldemort smiled and the fire in his eyes told the potions master the man had been already plotting the ways of making Harry see reason. "Your problem is Domhnall. Whatever ways we choose to do this, you will have to take the boy here and keep him safe and hidden. Only that would assure Harry and let us work together."
"I see," Severus relaxed a little and slumped back in his seat. "But what of Harry's safety? The Order would kidnap him if Dumbledore wishes so. What of the horcrux? They could kill him."
"Dumbledore wouldn't kill him before he found and destroyed all of my horcruxes, which would take a lot of time, believe me," the Dark Lord said nonchalantly, rocking his leg absentmindedly, looking even younger now, everything but the cunning murderer. "Besides, do not think I would let Harry out into the world all alone. I would, of course, accompany him all the time, I would simply stay hidden. He will be safe with me," he gave Severus a confident smile that radiated satisfaction, not from the brilliance of his plan, but from the fact that he would be close to Harry all the time. Once again the potions master asked himself if his lord could possibly love. For he looked completely smitten with the other, especially now that they had a child together. Perhaps the man hadn't realized it himself yet, but his feelings for Harry were quite obvious, they made him look younger, careless, free... human. Most unusual display, Severus thought.
"When would you tell Harry, my lord?"
"Tonight, perhaps," Voldemort shrugged his shoulders, "The sooner the better."
"Alright," Severus nodded. He hoped the plan would work and fast. The constant tension of living in fear and uncertainty galled him and, if he was honest with himself, took its toll on him. He wanted rest, peace, he wanted to enjoy the gifts the Fate had sent him so suddenly. Now that he knew what it was like to have a family, to be accepted and cherished, he couldn't get enough of it. Nor could Voldemort, as far as he could see.
Harry tied Domhnall's hat more thoroughly under the boy's chin and, satisfied, picked him up from the chair in the hall and took him out into the backyard, where Dobby and Easy, who had chosen to come here as often as her master didn't need her, cleaned everything up and placed a few benches and bonfires for warmth. It was their second walk outside and the little boy enjoyed it immensely, laughing happily at the rare snowflakes that fell softly on his face, trying to catch them with his hands and tongue. Harry couldn't wait for spring to come, to take Domhnall out into the city and to the beach. His boy was growing fast, developing even faster, he was already trying to sit on his own and was beginning to crawl. Very soon he was going to start talking and the prospect excited Harry, though unnerved him greatly as well. Domhnall was going to be a parselmouth, he had no doubts of that. With his both fathers being the speakers it was only logical for a child to become one as well. What disturbed Harry was his uncertainty about what should he do about it. It was a rare gift, a powerful and a useful one, but it was considered dark and could leave his son feared, shunned by the society in the future - he still remembered his own unpleasant experience. Should he help Domhnall develop it or should he prevent him from speaking it altogether? Depriving the boy of his natural talent was cruel, unfair, but then it would only make others act just as cruelly and unfairly towards him in the future. Sighing, Harry shook his head, trying to get rid of the heavy thoughts. He would deal with the problem when the time comes.
It was getting dark outside, the grey sky took on a scarlet hue and the bonfires' light gave the whole garden an eerie, magical atmosphere. Voldemort stood on the verandah that led into the backyard and watched Harry carry Domhnall around, lifting him up to the trees to inspect whatever it was the boy was interested in, spinning him around and throwing him up in the air and catching him with such ease, as if he wasn't a human being but a doll. And yet it all made Domhnall produce most satisfied sounds. His curiousness and mischievousness were well combined with genuine joyfulness and playfulness - the boy was a fine example of both his and Harry's personalities brought together, as one. Domhnall's smiles were so bright and pure, they rarely left his face along with his countless grimaces. Voldemort briefly wondered how was it possible to constantly stretch one's face so much without getting tired of it - perhaps, the trick was in the boy's sincerity. Harry once again threw Domhnall up in the air but instead of catching him, he flicked his wrist and the boy froze, floating gently above his father's head, laughing like mad and jerking his arms and legs in excitement. Harry's ringing laughter was teasing the strings inside Voldemort's chest, playing them just as easily, lightly.
"One day you will be able to fly just as much as you want," Harry laughed, finally catching the happily squeaking boy, "I will buy you the fastest broom and you would be the best quidditch player in Hogwarts."
Or he might prefer to fly without a broom at all, Voldemort raised the corners of his mouth, thinking that Harry had still a lot to learn about magic, for Hogwarts offered very little useful material for the truly powerful wizards. The common people of their magical society could only ride a broom or any other charmed object if they wished to fly. Perhaps, he should teach Harry personally how to use his magic to conquer all the elements, teach him not only walk the earth, but walk the air, wield the fire, tame the water... The prospect of helping his Prince learn aroused him. Flying together would have been most fascinating.
"It's rather late, dear, we should go back inside and feed you, don't you think?" Harry crooned, carrying Domhnall back to the house, but stopped sharply at the steps of verandah, when he spotted Marvolo's tall, dark form, that merged with the background almost completely, leaving only the blood red eyes gleam brightly, as two burning coals.
"Evening, my little ones," Voldemort purred, as his eyes roamed over Harry's form, taking in every detail, while his hands were firmly fisted behind his back in an attempt to calm himself down. Prince affected him so strongly, as if he had taken a potency potion.
"Yeah, evening," Harry avoided meeting Marvolo's eyes and quickly brushed past him and into the house. The less words and glances were exchanged between them, the easier it would be for him to keep the distance. Harry couldn't let his traitorous body and soul fuck everything up again and put him into bed with the man that was the cause of all of his sufferings.
"I have something I would like to talk to you about, Harry," Voldemort closed the back door behind himself, watching impassively as the young wizard undressed Domhnall without using magic even once. This was something all of them, half-bloods, couldn't get rid of - the muggle habits. "It concerns my political activity."
"Mildly put," Harry couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the phrasing. He picked his son up and took him into the kitchen. "You can come here and tell me everything now and then leave," he called, not looking back, as he sat down at the table and pulled the bowl of soup closer to the edge to feed Domhnall.
Voldemort sat opposite them and stared at the small boy, who was staring back. He noticed he couldn't stop doing it, couldn't stop wanting to do it, as if Domhnall was some kind of a magnet. The child was beautiful, fascinating, like a priceless trophy he pleased Voldemort - that much he could admit to himself. The more complex feelings were still too hard for him to analyze, since all his thoughts were constantly occupied with Harry.
"Well?" Harry's voice snapped him out of his reverie and he raised his eyes to meet the emerald ones, that were once again looking at him longingly, sadly.
Voldemort cleared his throat and sat up straighter, taking on a business like pose and tone, "I wished to inform you that I have been thinking on your demands a great deal of time, have been looking for a way of ceasing the killings but achieving my goals. And I think I have found a solution." Two pairs of green eyes were watching him intently, listening to his every word, both man and boy didn't even breathe, it seemed. Oh, but it felt so magnificent, the Dark Lord couldn't remember feeling so elated by other's attention, perhaps, only once, many years ago, when he had first spoken in front of the audience of those who bound their lives and magic to his own.
"And what might it be?" Harry asked quietly, pushing a spoon into Domhnall's mouth, as his heart was once again gripped in a vice. Had Marvolo truly considered his opinion? His demands, as he put it? Was Voldemort actually going to stop the mindless murders just for him? His stomach churned at the thought that he felt grateful, felt... special.
"I will need your help," the blood red eyes locked with the emerald ones and Voldemort couldn't help but seethe inside for he knew he was pleading, pleading again. He could kill Harry as easily as a fly, the young man wouldn't be fast enough to even notice his attack, but the mere thought of hurting him sent painful pangs into his heart. Harry had such power over him, he was the only person in his life that had ever made him beg. And he felt he was ready to fall even lower for him. "I need you to become a delegate for my campaign, my cause... our cause."
"What?" Harry blurted out, shocked.
"I know you agree with my bills, why won't you tell everyone about it?" he smiled at his Prince charmingly, tilting his head to the side. Even begging, he knew just what to do to make Harry comply faster. He knew this smile of his always made the other freeze and lose his tension. Oh, and here it was, the palpitating of the eyelashes, the slight blush of the cheeks... How unbearably appetizing Harry looked right now, he could devour him with such pleasure.
"You want me to speak to the press, to people... to promote you?" Somehow this sounded even more insane than the killings. "But why all the safety measures then, if you want to throw me out into the wild and... What about Domhnall?" Harry realized he raised his voice, quite unnecessarily, but couldn't help it. His head wasn't working right, he couldn't think soberly and simultaneously watch these damned rose lips seduce him with these blasted smiles. He wanted Marvolo, always wanted him, no matter what he thought of the man, and it annoyed him to no end.
"The blood wards are necessary - this is your home after all, I do not want anyone to disturb you or our son," Voldemort smiled again, leaning forward to inhale Harry's scent and feel the light magic tickle on his cold skin. "Besides, I will be accompanying you all the time, I will be keeping you safe while Domhnall would be with his grandfather. I am sure Severus would manage a little baby-sitting, with the help of our elves."
"You have planned everything, haven't you?" Harry whispered helplessly. It was just like Marvolo to study him and to use the knowledge against him eventually.
"I tend to do so, yes," he grinned and felt his smile widen even more, despite himself, when Domhnall gurgled happily and grinned back at him. Was the boy so sensitive to others' emotions? Or was it just him that affected the child so much? "You have to agree, Harry, if you want me to stop killing them, then you have to help me, to make them see reason. They would never listen to me or either of my followers, but you, you can make them see the truth."
"How can I do that?" he hated it, hated so much that Marvolo was always right. "I will have to expose myself, our son... everything that happened..." Harry shook his head in denial, feeling the tears of desperation well up in his eyes.
"No," Voldemort gently took the trembling hand that lay on the table and stroked it lovingly with his cold fingers, "No, Harry, you won't have to do any of it, not if you don't want to. I simply planned for you to expose Dumbledore, his voluntary ignorance of your abuse, his lies about you being in training while you are hiding from him and the Order..." he moved to stand on his knees before the young wizard, kissing the hand softly, not once taking his eyes off of the tearful green ones. "I want you to tell them why you agree with me, my ideas, that is all. You are free to tell anything else you want, I promise."
Harry wanted to close his eyes, to turn away, to snatch his hand out of the other's hold, but the sight of Marvolo standing on his knees before him, the blood red eyes looking at him with such honesty and warmth made his heart sing and hurt at the same time. Was he being deceived again? "Give me a vow," he croaked, "A vow that you would never lie to me."
He knew it was coming, he knew he would have to give Harry everything he asked for in order to have him. But somehow it didn't seem as ridiculous now, as it had just a few days ago. "I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, swear on my life and magic that I would never lie to Harold Severus Prince, would never deceive him." A faint light glowed around their clasped hands and Harry could see Marvolo's pupils change their size, as the blood red orbs darkened and then brightened dramatically. This couldn't be faked, he had bound himself by an unbreakable vow yet again. "How many more vows and binds should I perform for you to trust me, Harry?" Voldemort kissed his hand again and pressed the warm palm against his cheek, all but purring at the contact.
"Will you truly stop the unnecessary violence if I help you, as you say?" Harry stroked the soft, cool skin with his thumb despite his best efforts to stay unaffected. How could he, when he had the Dark Lord at his feet?
"Yes," came out shakily, unsteadily, for he could not lie anymore. He could kill as much as he liked, he only needed to find another reason for that, but it was the previous night when he had finally, fully realized that the violence, the murders, the tortures were not bringing him any more comfort and pleasure as they used to. Now Harry was his comfort, his peace, his solace. Closing his eyes resentfully, Voldemort leaned forward and circled his arms around both Harry's and Domhnall's forms, burying his face into the thin fabric of Harry's shirt. He felt their son tug on his hair and touch his face with his little plump fingers, inspecting every inch of it, as Harry had once done in the darkness of their bedroom.
Harry stared at Marvolo, whose head was pressed against his chest, and his hands involuntarily reached for the soft, chestnut hair, his fingers carded through the short locks, as his heart beat madly against his ribcage. "Marvolo, please," he tried weakly, completely incapable of pushing the other away. He couldn't let himself lose focus, lose caution.
"No, let me hold you," Voldemort pressed harder, rubbing his face against his Prince, "We had a deal, Harry, I am giving you what you want and I get to hold you, to touch you. Let me have it now, I miss you so much, I need you..." his words dissipated into Harry's skin as his long nose found a gap between the buttons and his lips moved to place a kiss there, sending shivers down Harry's spine.
Harry didn't say anything, he didn't know what could he say really. With both Domhnall and Marvolo being so close to him, holding him, he felt as if his whole entity dissipated and morphed into something else, something intricate and purifying, light, even though it was mixed with darkness of both men in his arms. It was yet another form of ecstasy he had never felt before in his life. Ecstasy of being wanted and needed, ecstasy of being one with those who were his flesh and blood, his family. He didn't want Marvolo to be his family, he didn't, at least he was telling himself that, but his hands refused to listen and kept stroking and pulling on the soft hair, his heart kept calling for more, his body craved to be taken and worshiped. He needed Voldemort just like snakeface needed him, he knew it somewhere deep inside of him.
Voldemort pulled away, sensing his patience and will running thin. He couldn't force Harry into anything physical, he couldn't let himself do it, he could only wait. Wait for his Prince to be ready to accept him back. A torture worse than cruciatus. His gaze fell on Domhnall's little form - the boy stretched out his small arms to be held as well and something, he wasn't sure what exactly, some kind of an animal instinct compelled him to pick the child up. He stood, holding his son in his arms for the first time. He could feel the weak muscles tense from time to time, as the boy shifted, and the beating of a tiny heart against his narrow chest. Domhnall was as small and light as a feather, and so warm, so soft, so nice to the touch and to the smell. Voldemort couldn't help but embrace him tighter and press his lips against the plump cheek. The sweetness of his scent and magic turned the Dark Lord's head, it was hard to believe he could create something so pure and so wonderful. It was just a child, wasn't it? A little menace, abomination, a little trickster, a wolf in a lamb's skin... no, it wasn't Domhnall. Domhnall was different, he was his and Harry's, he was special. And so magical.
Harry's first instinct was to tear his boy away but when he saw Marvolo's face, the way he looked at Domhnall, the way he kissed him with that small smile on his lips, it made Harry realize that the dark wizard was, in fact, capable of feeling affection towards his son, their son. "How will we do it? Dumbledore, I mean, he wouldn't let me walk around and spread the word," Harry twisted his fingers helplessly, feeling suddenly apprehensive. He wished his help could bring an end to all this madness as soon as possible, though he doubted he could be of any real use.
"Do not worry about it, I will always be with you when you are out, Harry," Voldemort opened his eyes and looked at the raven haired wizard, as his hand rubbed on Domhnall's back in circles. "Dumbledore is dying from a terminal illness, he would order you to hunt down and destroy all of my horcruxes..." at the sight of the tears that had finally streamed down Harry's pale cheeks, he sighed, "Yes, you see, now that I am telling you only the truth it is not going to be pleasant."
"How has he got infected?" Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for the old headmaster, he just didn't have that much anger and poison in him to hold the man's sins and mistakes over him, when he was going to die so soon.
"Found my horcrux and tried to destroy it. Paid for poking his nose into my business. I warned him, Harry, I warned him seventeen years ago but he never listened."
Of course there was no pity or regret in the ruby eyes. "And how many of those do you have hidden?"
"Four, one of them you are wearing around your neck," Voldemort smiled cunningly.
Frowning, Harry clutched on the locket he never once parted with. It had this strange familiar feeling to it, but it was empty, it didn't have any kind of magic inside... Creasing his brow even more, he stroked the cool metal absentmindedly, as a realization formed in his mind. "There are no real horcruxes anymore, aren't there?" he looked up and saw Marvolo's smile widen, and his eyes shine brighter.
"Yes, I have absorbed them all after I resurrected. You are the only one left," his smile faltered suddenly, as if it never existed, "And Dumbledore wants you to destroy the horcruxes and Domhnall, and then sacrifice yourself in a fight against me. This is what he told Severus."
"But why have you absorbed them? Aren't they the guarantee of your eternal life?" Harry scowled at the thought that Dumbledore had the nerve to tell Severus everything, but not him, that he wanted to kill his innocent son, that he wanted to put him into a fight against Marvolo, whom he, as much as he wished to, couldn't hurt. Just couldn't.
Voldemort sat down on a chair next to him and reluctantly passed Domhnall to Harry, when the boy reached out for his young father. "I did it because I met you." At his Prince's confused look he crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap, smiling melancholically to himself, and elaborated, "I have met you several times before that, but that particular time you actually piqued my interest, Harry. You fought me, you, a child, who was much more afraid of me than all the Death Eaters who were cringing at my feet, and yet you were the only one who stubbornly cursed me with the foulest words I have ever heard," he laughed mirthfully, and the deep, rich sounds, that were escaping his lips, pulsed in Harry's chest and groin. "You didn't cry, you didn't beg for mercy, you looked me straight in the eye. Reborn, I had enough of sanity and sense to realize that what had happened to me was the result of my own mistakes. I needed to start all over again, only this time I knew I had to learn from my past unfortunate experience. And I knew that if I wanted to meet you again and to get to know you, Harry, I would need to be more human than before," the blood red eyes looked straight into the emerald ones. "I wanted to know you Harry and I am glad I did."
Harry averted his gaze, feeling his cheeks burn in embarrassment. Marvolo couldn't lie to him and Harry couldn't help but feel flattered, pleased and aroused by the notion that the dark wizard had noticed him and had been wanting him for so long. That Marvolo appreciated him. Could he say the same though? That he was glad he got to know the man who killed his mother? Harry looked down at Domhnall, who was chewing on the locket and watching his parents curiously. His little miracle, that Marvolo gave him. Fuck. "Me too." He had never given any vows but he couldn't lie to Marvolo, not after everything that happened. He didn't want to, he was so tired of it - being honest with others was freeing, he craved this freedom.
Voldemort gave his Prince a very pleased grin and a sly, lustful look from underneath his lowered lids and long, thick eyelashes. "Oh, Harry," he sighed, leaning forward, and smiled at the raven haired wizard, smiled sincerely and easily, enjoying doing it just for Harry, his Harry.
"I must put Domhnall to sleep," Harry blurted out shakily, for he knew that look, that voice, that sigh. He knew they were the ultimate weapon against his shields, if he didn't leave now he would be ravished into oblivion. Of course he wanted it, but he still was incapable of forgiving Marvolo... for everything. He sprang up on his feet and hastily walked away and into the nursery.
"Then I would like to wish him good night," Voldemort drawled, standing next to the crib, having have apparated into the room.
Harry flinched, surprised by his sudden appearance. "Sure." Marvolo definitely knew just how was he affecting him and was doing it all on purpose, the bastard! Harry kissed Domhnall on the cheek and stroked his hair, watching the boy yawn, as his eyes slowly closed. Ignoring the dark wizard's intent staring, Harry kissed his son once more and put him down into the crib, covering him up with a small blanket and caressing his cheeks, as he listened to Domhnall's breathing.
When the boy was finally asleep and Harry stepped away from him, Voldemort leaned forward and bent down to place a kiss on the small head, "Good night, little prince," he hissed in parseltongue very quietly. He had never had to share anything or anyone with another person, but now he had to share his son with Harry, and share Harry with Domhnall. He hated it, but couldn't change it however hard he wished to, for he wanted them both.
Seeing that Marvolo was occupied with the child, Harry decided it was time to run. Rationally he knew there was no way he could hide from the man, but he needed to keep their distance. He quietly escaped into the hall and walked over to the stairs, but a strong hand stopped him and pushed him against the wall. He hadn't had the time to move away or fight Marvolo off - his lips were being devoured by the other with such fierce passion, he could feel the copper flavour on his tongue. And Harry surrendered. His arms circled the man's neck and his body arched to press into the other's frame. Cold hands snaked underneath his shirt and grabbed onto his sides, hurting and turning him on. Harry moaned, as Marvolo sucked on his tongue, growling into his mouth possessively, like a wild beast. Fuck, how I missed this.
"Harry, Harry." He had tried, he had honestly tried and he failed. Voldemort pulled away to take a breath, staring into the unfocused green eyes, full of lust and longing, want. "Harry, I wouldn't do it against your wishes," he bit into the tender skin of the throat, groaning at the delightful sounds of short, ragged breaths that escaped Harry's chest.
He felt like crying, when he heard these words. Why was the man, who skinned his uncle alive, so kind to him, caring? He could have taken him so easily, could have forced him into sex - Harry knew he couldn't really fight Voldemort, he was too young and inexperienced. But snakeface never once used his opportunity, always being the gentle, understanding, affectionate... lover. Oh god. Harry pressed into him as hard as he could and hid his face in the crook of his neck, as tears poured out of his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, sobbing, "Marvolo."
Voldemort held him tightly, kissing him on the wet, tear-stained cheeks, running nose, puffy eyes and lips. Harry's tears tormented him, but the fact, that the young wizard could once again feel safe in his arms to cry, told him he was being trusted again. And it was worth his patience, his hunger. Gathering Harry's thin form into his arms, he brought him into the bedroom and laid him down onto the bed, sitting down beside him, still holding him close. "You belong to me, you belong with me, Harry," he murmured, kissing the swollen lips gently, "Never forget that."
Closing his eyes and sighing contentedly, Harry relaxed into the embrace of the cold arms, happy to be held again, just like he always wanted to be. He ignored the man's words in favour of asking him, "Marvolo, why have you made a horcrux at all?"
"Because I was afraid," a hot breath brushed over his ear and wet lips sucked on his earlobe. Voldemort was a little surprised by the question, he hoped he wouldn't have to answer anything about his past, but with Harry there was never any certainty. He kept kissing and licking on the wizard's sweet skin, as his hand rubbed on the thin chest, teasing the nipples and drawing patterns with the tips of his fingernails.
Harry turned his head to catch the insatiable lips into a soft, tender kiss and whispered against them, "Had somebody hurt you, Marvolo?" The man grew up during the second World War, surely he was afraid of death, but Harry doubted he had ever been such a weak and cowardly human being as to split his soul simply because of that, no, Voldemort had always had serious reasons.
"I do not wish to discuss this," he pulled away completely and sat up straighter, scowling at Harry's perceptiveness. His Prince was a true slytherin and now was going to use the vow against him to get into his past. A warm hand covered his and squeezed it kindly.
"I wish you could tell me," Harry sighed, as he too sat up and pressed his forehead against the other's shoulder. He thought of the nightmares Easy had told him about and couldn't help but wonder what had happened to Marvolo, what had muggles done to him at the orphanage. He entertained the crazy idea, that if he knew what was the cause of Marvolo's heartlessness, mercilessness and incontrollable hatred, he could help him deal with it, like Marvolo had helped him to deal with his own fears and pain.
"Not now, Harry."
"Alright," the sudden coldness and distance in his voice hurt Harry, but he knew it was wrong to pry. "I am sorry."
"There is nothing for you to be sorry about, my little one," Voldemort sighed and pulled him into a soft embrace. "Let's not disturb my past, Harry, it doesn't matter anymore, you wouldn't change me either, if that is what you are hoping for. Just let it go and be with me, be mine."
He thought he had never heard anything more romantic and heartbreaking before in his life. "I am afraid I wouldn't be able to ever forgive you for what you have done, Marvolo," Harry nuzzled into his neck, "It crippled me, left so many scars inside."
"I am not looking for your forgiveness, Harry," Voldemort chuckled soundlessly, kissing the top of the other's head. "There is no absolution for someone like me, especially when one doesn't need it to sleep peacefully at nights. What I need for a good sleep is you."
Harry smiled ruefully into his shoulder and lay down again, closing his eyes. "I will see you in my dreams tonight, Marvolo." I am sorry but I can't be with you, not now. Somehow he found he couldn't say it aloud. He wanted to laugh at the ridiculous thought that he was afraid to hurt Marvolo, but it made him cry instead. He couldn't lie to the man and this, this was a lie, wasn't it?
"I am waiting, Harry," Voldemort murmured and vanished into the thin air. It was long before Harry had managed to fall asleep, staring dumbly into the darkness, searching for the burning coals of the ruby eyes, but they were not here. Even though he had never once been in love before, Harry knew that if he let Marvolo in his life, he would surely fall for him and would only hurt himself, for the Dark Lord was incapable of such feelings. Could have Dumbledore been wrong, though?
"Ah, Severus, come in!" Dumbledore called and the door into his office opened before the potions master. Severus took a deep, calming breath and entered, but his appearance wasn't as spotless and perfect as he wished it to be - he couldn't help but sneer at the sight of Weasley and Granger in the headmaster's office, the former shoving the piles of crackers down his throat, the latter paging through one of the ancient tomes on magic, that nobody but Dumbledore could ever touch.
"I see we have company, sir," Severus bit out, scowling so awfully, that it made Ron choke and Hermione had to hit him hard on his back to help him breathe again.
"Yes, I thought Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger had a right to know what is happening to their friend," Dumbledore smiled and gestured for the potions master to sit down as well. Just as Severus had expected, there was a pensieve on the headmaster's table - he had prepared a compilation of his memories about Harry and Domhnall to show and make it look like it had happened yesterday.
"What I have to show you is not recommended for viewing by the minors," Severus sneered at the two gryffindors, but seeing that their faces remained just as dumb as ever, he sighed and offered the same sentence in smaller words, "There is a scene of cutting Harry up and taking the child out, blood, his insides and blood again." At that both teenagers screamed in horror and Hermione covered her mouth with her hands, sobbing.
"I see," Dumbledore gave the potions master a worried look. "Perhaps, it would be best for the two of you to wait while I watch the whole memory and then I will show you the least cruel parts of it." At their vehement nods of agreement he flicked his wrist to push the pensieve closer to Severus.
The potions master concentrated on the fake memory he had created in his mind. This was the hardest subject of the art of Occlumency, for a wizard had to recreate every little detail to make his memory seem real. The light, the dust in the air, the position of the arrows of the clock, the dates on the newspaper's front page, and much, much more. Severus had spent the whole night creating the memory of his visit to Harry, combining the episodes of all the times they have spent together, twisting them, correcting, adding details and getting rid of the unnecessary ones, changing words and intonations, glances and gestures... He felt completely exhausted and had to take a few pepper-up potions in the morning to be able to function properly. Pressing a tip of his wand to his temple, he dragged a silver substance out and over into the golden dish. The memory swirled in the water, gleaming ominously in the bright light coming through the stained glass window. Dumbledore gave his three guests a serious, determined look and with a last, confident nod he bent down and brought his face a mere inch away from the liquid - his eyes glazed and his face took on a waxen look of a dead man. He was sucked into the memory.
"Is Harry alright, professor?" Hermione took her eyes off of headmaster's form and turned to the potions master.
"He is now," Severus hissed, not sparing her another glance.
"Why hadn't he answered when we came calling for him?" Ron whined, staring at the tips of his battered boots, too uncomfortable to look at the terrifying man.
"Perhaps, he was afraid to put the two of you in danger by coming out, since the Dark Lord had found him, or, perhaps, his fetus was too heavy for him, since he is not a woman and is incapable of bearing a child and he simply couldn't move?" he spat acidly, barely restraining himself from throttling the redheaded idiot with his bare hands. How truly stupid they were to ignore Harry's sacrifices so easily, arrogantly.
"Oh," Ron reddened dramatically, ashamed of his own thickness, and drew his head back, hunching his shoulders.
Dumbledore suddenly straightened in his seat and blinked a few times, trying to clear his sight. There were tears welled up in his pale blue eyes, Severus saw them but pretended he didn't - he hadn't changed the scene of delivering Domhnall and it was indeed truly horrible.
"So, the Dark Lord found out that the child is not a horcrux?" the headmaster asked in a quiet, rasping voice. Severus and his master had played that particular dialogue out for his false memories, specifically for Dumbledore to see.
"Yes, the child is harmless. Harry is still a horcrux himself," Severus nodded, narrowing his eyes at the teenagers next to him. Were they aware of the situation? If they were, what did they think about the necessity of killing Harry for the greater good?
"Does Voldemort know who is the father?"
"Even if he does - he never told me," Severus said simply, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing tiredly.
"I still doubt the child is as harmless as it seems. We will see how it grows," the headmaster said thoughtfully, stroking his beard. This comment almost cost Severus his calm façade, for he instantly became enraged and... afraid. Had Dumbledore recognized the child's face? Had he gone insane - killing an innocent infant simply because it had been born dark?
"Professor, why would you want to kill a baby?" Hermione stood up sharply. "Is that why Harry ran away? Is he hiding from us because he thinks we are going to kill his child?"
"This child is unnatural, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said kindly, but firmly, and his austere glance made her fall back on her chair. "What is worse, we do not know the other father. I have no wish to kill it, but if it represents danger to other wizards, then it will have to be eliminated."
"Harry said nobody is born a monster," Ron suddenly broke in, "He said even V-V-You-Know-Who was born an ordinary boy, but was made into a psychotic maniac he is now. How can you tell if Harry's child is any danger to us when it's so small? Besides, I'm sure as hell that Harry would never let it become a bad block," he said with finality and looked straight into headmaster's eyes.
"Harry was wrong, Mr. Weasley," Severus decided to play along with Dumbledore, though the redhead's words gave him a tiny hope that not everything was lost in regards of Harry's friends. "His own uncle was born a monster, as was the Dark Lord."
"But don't you care about your grandchild, sir?" Hermione perked up, rubbing the tears off of her face with her gryffindor tie.
"I doubt it is any of your business, Miss Granger," the potions master shrugged his shoulders elegantly and turned back to the headmaster. "Harry is fine now, nobody had hurt him, he refuses to leave his house. As you could see he was too weak to be even moved, I could not apparate him anywhere, the baby could not be affected magically as well."
"Will Voldemort grant you access to Harry in the future?" Dumbledore took off his glasses and wiped them clean with his sleeve. "It is fortunate nothing has changed in his condition and we would be able send him on a mission, in which his friends," he waved in the direction of the students, "Will help him."
"So you have told them about the horcruxes?"
"Yes, Harry would need all the help he can get... Tell me, how Voldemort treats him?" the headmaster watched Severus intently, as if he had something in mind but was reluctant to say it out loud.
"Well." What else could he say? That the Dark Lord lusted after his son and that Harry was, obviously, also not indifferent towards him?
"Elaborate?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, smiling modestly. "Do they talk? Is Voldemort trying to plant any ideas into Harry's mind?"
"That I do not know, Albus, however, I believe, as long as Potter keeps calling him names it means he is alright." Severus pretended to be fascinated with his fingernails.
Ron burst into a nervous laughter, "Yeah, you shouldn't worry, sir. Harry would never take snakeface's side! This is how he calls him. And he also calls him a bastard, a sick motherfucker, a noseless cocksu-"
"I think you should stop here, Mr. Weasley, thank you," the headmaster raised his hands, smiling chidingly, "I have no doubts that Harry has invented many names for Voldemort."
"Oh, Harry has a vast knowledge of dirty words!" the redheaded boy grinned, blushing furiously, "I have always wondered where had he learnt them all."
"I doubt you would smile anymore if you knew," Severus smirked, twisting his lips into a crooked, unkind smile.
"When do you think Harry will recover and be able to move?" the headmaster steered everyone's attention back to the main subject.
"If he would want to move," Severus emphasized, "It would take from three to five weeks for him to completely recover and be able to perform magic." That much time the Dark Lord decided was enough for them to complete the first two steps of his plan, then everything would depend on Harry.
"We will be ready then," Dumbledore rubbed his hands together and smiled at the two gryffidnors who, to Severus' satisfaction, didn't look at all excited.
Ever since Harry had recovered from the childbirth he started reading on the material he has been missing while not attending Hogwarts. Domhnall needed to sleep a lot during the day and it gave Harry an opportunity to study and improve his skills. It had been a week since he started using his holly wand again - it felt so awkward, so foreign in his hand, at first it scared him. But Severus said it was normal, his powers grew and now were adjusting to his wand. He was reluctant to use serious spells and never used it around his son, preferring the wandless magic he discovered came so easily to him. It was late afternoon when he paged through his transfiguration textbook and stopped at the new chapter "Transfigurating inanimate into animate". Trying hard to get used to his new power level and to his wand, Harry was making little progress in this subject, even though it used to be one of his tops at school. Dobby helped him arrange one of the empty rooms into a training room of sorts, where he could harmlessly perform any kind of magic without disturbing Domhnall's sleep.
After almost two hours of sweating over a match, he managed to turn it into a rainworm, however, it didn't look that lively at all. Tired and irritated, Harry angrily put the wand away and stomped out of the room, thinking that he needed Severus' help to get through this bloody mess. Staring spitefully at his bare feet, plotting revenge on the stupid match in his mind, Harry entered the nursery and habitually bent over the crib to take Domhnall out only to find that the boy was gone. Blinking dumbly at the empty spot with a blanket thrown to the side, he, at first, naively imagined that Domhnall left on his own. "The fuck?!" Harry ran out of the room and down the stairs, frantically trying not to go insane. Where could Domhnall disappear? Only Severus, the elves and Marvolo had the access to the house... Marvolo. He was ready to call Easy and apparate to Prince Manor and kill the bastard, when he noticed something unusual out of the corner of his eye. Turning on his heels, he entered the living room and stared at the sofa. Marvolo's long body was sprawled all over it, with one leg thrown over its back, his long, black cloak covering him like a blanket. And here was Domhnall, snoring sweetly on his father's chest, drooling over the crimson, velvet vest. The two were asleep and looked almost identical - angelically peaceful and beautiful.
Feeling his knees giving out, Harry fell into the nearest armchair, panting hysterically. He had never been so scared before in his life - the mere thought of losing Domhnall felt like a knife piercing through his heart. Catching his breath, he closed his eyes and groaned very quietly in relief. "I will fucking punch you in the face, when you wake up, wanker," he hissed, looking up at Marvolo's content expression. Although he was very angry at the wizard, he couldn't help but admire the view of the two of his men lying so lovely together. Who would have thought that Marvolo liked to sleep with babies so much? Had he come here specifically to sleep with his son? Harry grinned despite himself, feeling the anger and irritation slowly dissipate into nothingness, in favour of joy and happiness. Marvolo looked so human now, acted so normal, it was hard to believe this was the monster that held the whole country in terror. The monster.
Harry stood up and moved to crouch beside the sleeping wizard, watching his pale face intently. It was the first time he could actually look at him, see him fully, without a golden mask, without deceiving expressions... Although he seemed rather young when he spoke and smiled, he was around thirty five or even forty years old. His skin, though pale and perfectly soft, bore many wrinkles, and two deep lines on his forehead and one between his eyebrows - he frowned and scowled more often than smiled. A delicate mole under the left eye, the long, thick, dark eyelashes and plump, rose lips gave him a feminine look, which contradicted with definite male features and gave him this unique, noble beauty. Harry's eyes slowly left the mouth he wanted to kiss so much and moved on to the dimple on the man's chin - something he never thought he would find so attractive and intriguing. Unable to resist his temptation, Harry carefully reached out and stroked the soft, chestnut locks, that were framing the beautiful face. Perhaps, Voldemort was Marvolo's magical portrait, like Dorian Gray's, and bore all the marks of his horrible deeds and rotten soul, while his true, human face remained unscarred and perfect, innocent?
Voldemort woke up as soon as he heard Harry run down the stairs, but decided to feign ignorance just to see what the young wizard would do. Would he take Domhnall away? Would he curse him? Harry was always rather unpredictable, which excited the Dark Lord - he loved riddles and things he couldn't quite control, they fascinated and aroused him, challenged. He heard Harry's threat and barely held back his smile, feeling most pleased with Harry's reaction - they were making significant progress. But he never expected that Prince, a little snake in lion's skin, would use this opportunity to study him and to touch him. Harry's scent filled his nostrils, as the young wizard's magic prickled on his skin when he touched his hair. A little more, a little closer and he would jump at Harry and fuck everything up. It was so hard to resist the temptation to take what was already his... Harry's warm fingers moved to touch his cheek and Voldemort felt his blood rush down to his groin. Such a gentle touch, admiring and appreciating - nobody had ever touched him like Harry did, nobody wanted him for being Marvolo, others were interested only in the Dark Lord and his power. Perhaps, this was the reason he tried so hard to get rid of this part of himself, unwanted and lonely, broken?
Harry let out a heavy, quiet sigh, full of longing and sorrow and laid his head down onto Marvolo's chest, next to Domhnall, closed his eyes and listened to the steady beat of a heart he used to think was made of stone. Marvolo was just flesh and blood, wasn't he? A human being, who made too many mistakes to count and yet was trying very hard to save the world he lived in. Saints didn't exist, everybody sinned and hurt others, people constantly killed each other in battles for reasons sometimes so insignificant and foolish...
"Why do I keep trying to justify everything you have done? Why am I still looking for an excuse to let you in?" Harry whispered more to himself than to the other, but Voldemort heard him. These sad words made him open his eyes and look at Harry, as if he had never seen him before. He opened his mouth to say something but suddenly found he lacked of any words that could sympathize well with his Prince's problem. Voldemort had never been the one to condole with the others, for he simply never cared for anybody else but himself. And now a young, beautiful, powerful and intelligent man was crying on his chest, trying very hard to accept him and he dearly wished he knew what to say. This strange, unusual need confused him.
"Harry," he murmured, placing his free hand over the other's head and stroking the silky raven hair.
"I am not sorry I woke you, you bastard!" Harry hastily pulled away, berating himself for being the soft piece of shit that he was, for desiring Marvolo so much.
"Oh? What have I done this time?" Voldemort smiled, looking at Harry mischievously. How he loved his Prince being the rogue that he was.
"Next time you want to sleep with Domhnall - just say so! Do you have any idea how have you fucking frightened me when I didn't find him in his bed?!" Harry hissed vehemently, glaring at Marvolo with as much anger as he could master, though he knew he was failing miserably.
"Oh, that!" Voldemort raised his eyebrows in a mocking amazement. "I was so tired after a sleepless night, I simply came by to check on the two of you and found Domhnall awake in his crib. I couldn't resist, he smells so good," he laughed softly, stroking the boy's back gently. "As soon as I took him into my arms he fell asleep and I decided to take a nap as well. Do not worry, Harry, nobody will take him away from you, definitely not me."
"Do you like him? How do you feel about him?" Harry suddenly asked, curious to know if Marvolo understood why was he acting in such an unusual fashion.
The Dark Lord looked at the young wizard and then at the small boy in his arms, that was stirring ever so slightly, clearly waking up. "I feel a very strong attraction, much stronger than anything I have ever experienced before, except for you, of course," he gave Harry a sly smile, though his gaze was warm and held no guile inside. "I like him, yes, I want to hold him and look at him, as if he was a prize or a treasure. I feel protective of him. I believe it is what parents are supposed to feel towards their children, isn't it?"
"Yeah." Harry felt the heat gather in his chest and slowly spread all over his body. Pull yourself together, you sop! Marvolo was slowly growing to love their son, he was, there was no denying it. Could Domhnall help him change? Become a complete human being, lose his brutality? Harry frowned and looked away, self-conscious to meet the blood red eyes. Did he actually want Marvolo to change? Wasn't he whom he liked so much in the first place? Despite his concealment of the fact that he and Voldemort were the very same person, Marvolo indeed was sincere with Harry in everything else, genuine. His complex, twisted personality was what turned Harry on.
"What are you thinking about?" He turned to the sound of the deep, calm voice that once used to lull him to sleep by whispering sweet nonsense in the darkness.
"How flattering," Voldemort grinned arrogantly, which made Harry shake his head at the man's antics. "Ah, look, who is awake," the Dark Lord greeted Domhnall who rolled on his back and yawned loudly, stretching his little arms and legs. He looked so much like Marvolo now, Harry couldn't help but feel moved by his son's every gesture and leaned forward to take him. He carefully picked the boy up from the man's chest and instantly covered the little face with a hundred of soft, feather light kisses, smiling wildly at the laughing infant. "He is a very joyful child," Marvolo said thoughtfully, watching them together, as a scientist would watch two cells interact. "He is very much like you, never loses his heart."
Blushing at the unexpected compliment, Harry hid his face in the mop of the chestnut hair, "You would have been just as happy and playful if you weren't alone then. We are all born innocent and pure, no matter the affinity to dark or light magic, we all crave the same: care and love. You never had it - you had no reason to be happy, satisfied with your life and your own self. Domhnall has it all, he has us, Severus, Dobby and Easy - why wouldn't he be careless and joyful?"
Voldemort smiled softly at his Prince, marveling his wisdom. He knew he made a right choice - who could reach for the minds and hearts of people better than Harry? In just a few years this young wizard could easily become a new Light Lord. Noble, generous, caring and kindhearted, wise and perceptive - he had all the necessary qualities for a leader of the new society in the new world they were going to create. And he belonged to Voldemort, forever. "Yes, I think you are right, my dear," he sat up and kissed the top of Harry's head, touching the long, delicate neck seemingly by an accident. "I must be going."
Harry couldn't help but catch his breath, when the cold fingers brushed against his skin and stayed there for a while, caressing his throat. Marvolo didn't have to do anything to turn him into a pile of mush - a simple, gentle touch and Harry was finished. "When... When will we rehearse my speech or... whatever it is I am going to say? We need to discuss it, right?" he looked up at the dark wizard, suddenly hurt that he was leaving already.
Or do you just wish to spend more time with me? Voldemort smiled brilliantly at his Prince, very pleased with himself, and chuckled, "Oh, Harry, I never thought you would be so enthusiastic about helping me out! We would discuss it as much as you wish to, it is my pleasure."
"Yeah, great," Harry averted his eyes and bit into his lower lip, shy and insecure again, just like the first time he met Marvolo.
"I will be back soon," the Dark Lord stroked Domhnall's pink cheek with his index finger and, taking one last look at Harry, disappeared.
Back in his study at Prince Manor, Voldemort slumped in his chair gracelessly, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. A pleased, confident smile played on his lips - Harry was his. It was not going to be long before his raven haired Prince lowered his shields and let him in, completely. Once and for all. What a generous trophy after such a challenging crusade! Laughing to himself in satisfaction, he closed his eyes and imagined how he would be holding Harry so very soon, fucking him, devouring every bit of his being. He knew that getting closer with the child would help him melt the young wizard's heart, however, and he wasn't going to lie to himself, he did truly like Domhnall. Perhaps, by an instinct, or by blood ties he genuinely cared for the boy. The images of his future life with Harry and Domhnall suddenly flooded his mind and made him sit up straight and frown - for the first time in his life he was imagining a future shared with somebody else, with somebody he wanted and craved. It was as disturbing as it was pleasant.
Perhaps, it was his age that brought him such severe intolerance towards snotty displays of affection, perhaps, it was all Lily's fault, since she had torn out the last weak roots of his genuine kindness and affinity towards people that he had inherited from his mother. He wasn't sure, he couldn't remember when was the last time he actually felt something. Oh no, he did. It was with Harry - a lovely looking, arrogant and stubborn boy that was his walking reflection, both on the outside and on the inside. Severus had sometimes dreamed, deep inside himself, that if he survived the war, he could probably find himself a good woman and spend the rest of his life in a secluded, small house, somewhere far away from here, with her as a socializing substitute and an occasional sex partner. He was certain he would never be able to love again, nor had he any desire to have children. However, Fate had once again tricked him and put everything into its personal kind of order. Watching Harry and Domhnall, knowing that they were a part of him, were his flesh and blood, his unexpected family, was a most intricate, indescribable experience. Severus could have sworn he felt something burn inside his heart, melting down the iron cage he hid it in.
"Severus, come, hold him for a moment," Harry called, holding the boy out for him.
"What?" the potions master snapped out of his reverie, surprised and quite scared by the prospect of holding a baby - he had never done it before, and there were very few things he had never tried, being a wizard, a scientist and a Death Eater.
"Hold Domhnall," Harry pushed the small ball of flesh into his trembling hands and left the nursery to draw a bath for the child - they were still reluctant to use complex magic around him, since it was hard to tell how would he be affected.
"Wait, I..." Severus doubted he could feel more insecure than at this particular moment. A little human being, a tiny wizard was squirming in his hands and loudly asking to be held closer - the potions master held his grandson at his arms' length, having had stretched them as far as possible. Children produced so much noise and mess, at least that was what he had heard about them. He always felt horrified at the sight of yet another scion of the Weasley family, inwardly admiring Molly's courage and stamina, thinking her to be completely insane at the same time. How could she go through this for so many times and stay alive, in one piece, was beyond him.
When Harry returned he gave his father an amused look upon seeing his strange, tensed posture. "You know you could hold him closer, he is not going to bite you, or shit on your robe, if you are worrying about that," he laughed, shaking his head. "Don't tell me you are afraid of him!"
"I am not!" Severus hissed, affronted, watching Domhnall wearily. The naked boy was so soft, so warm, it was hard to imagine it was his normal condition - at first Severus was certain he had a fever. The little wizard was smiling and gurgling excitedly, jerking in his hands and his huge green eyes were staring at Severus so kindly, so affectionately... He was a brainless creature yet, wasn't he? How could a child so small, so young have such strong emotions, such powerful aura that practically enveloped him in a cocoon? Even though he, subconsciously, felt a strong pull towards Domhnall, which was instinctive and quite logical for blood relatives, Severus was still a little suspicious of him. A child born in such an unnatural fashion, graced with such overwhelming power...
"Well hug him then!" Harry nudged and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the snarky man to comply. "He is your grandchild, Severus, he is not bloody Merlin, he is just a boy."
"I am not going to obey your petty orders, here, take him back!" Severus hastily pushed Domhnall into the young wizard's hands, twisting his face in disgust and discomfort.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Harry shrugged his shoulders and, holding his son pressed against his chest, walked out of the nursery and into the bathroom, tickling the naked boy on his way, drawing bouts of laughter out of the small chest. Severus could only stare after them, feeling completely out of place. As much as he enjoyed holding Harry, he couldn't bring himself to do it casually, whenever he felt like it. Never the one to be self-conscious or shy, he found he was afraid to be rejected. Elementary, really. His past experience caused him too much of a damage, he was not ready to be hurt again, and never would be, he supposed. And even though Harry never showed any signs of growing cold or indifferent towards him, Severus was paranoid in his certainty that it all was not meant for him, was a vague illusion, that threatened to dissipate and leave him lonely and broken again any moment now.
Lost in his musings he barely registered that he had sat down, occupied Harry's 'reading armchair' as he called it. He frowned when something hard pressed against his thigh and took a small, thin book out, that got stuck between the pillows. It was "The Little Prince", his favourite, the one his mother used to read to him so often before sleep. Scowling at it, he paged through, watching the familiar frozen pictures with the eating feeling of longing in his heart. When he was a child, he used to think that he was the Little Prince from the book, just as lonely and miserable. He never thought he would stumble upon it again one day.
"Look at you, you are shining like a teapot now!" Harry came into the room, laughing along with freshly bathed Domhnall, already dressed for bed. Seeing that Severus was immersed in the book, Harry quietly put the boy into the crib, kissing him good night, and moved closer to his father. "I have never read it before, but now it is my favourite one." The onyx eyes slowly raised to meet his gaze and he thought his heart would break - so sad they were.
"It is, indeed, a good one," Severus drawled nonchalantly and put it carelessly on the table, standing up to leave.
"Severus." Harry's hand on his arm stopped him and the potions master looked up at his son, raising an inquiring eyebrow at his antics. "Stop this idiocy," the boy murmured and suddenly Severus found himself enveloped into a tight, warm embrace. "I didn't lie when I said I want you to be my family. Stop thinking I would betray you."
Severus wanted to say something spiteful, but once again found himself incapable of forming a comprehensible answer. He simply embraced Harry back and pressed his long nose against the boy's temple, reveling in his closeness. Why, why the hell does it feel so good?
"You may hold me whenever you wish to, I promise," Harry whispered into his ear, stroking his back gently. He thought it to be ridiculous that his father was too frightened to go further, however, he understood the fear of rejection. He used to be afraid of getting close to people for he didn't want to get hurt anymore. Perhaps, the same went for Severus? "You are my dad, I want you to be with me, just like I am with my son." There, he said it.
"You are an imbecile," Severus sighed, pushing one of his hands into his son's long, raven hair, brushing them carefully. He hadn't yet gotten used to being called "dad" and now Harry was telling him he wanted him to be here for him. Nobody had ever asked that of him and, quite frankly, he would have never indulged anyone anyway... But not Harry.
"Yeah, I know, you taught me well," Harry drawled sarcastically and pulled away a little to look into his father's eyes. "I still want you to be with me, want you to be my parent. I don't care what you think or what snarky arguments you are planning to give me - I like you, that is quite enough for me," he kissed Severus on the cheek and circled his arms around his neck, sighing deeply, pleasantly. After having spent so much time with Domhnall, after holding him and watching him being so happy every time they touched, Harry realized he missed this, missed feeling just as ecstatic and wonderful in the arms of his father - he hadn't had such luxury during the seventeen years of his life. And now he had his chance, he had Severus, why wouldn't he use it, really?
"You like me?" Severus huffed incredulously, widening his eyes at the sensation of being kissed so softly. Only his mother had kissed him like that and he felt home again. "Is it some kind of a bribe to make me babysit the boy?"
"Do you always have to spoil everything with this mania of yours? I think you have overworked yourself spying for Death Eaters," Harry scoffed but didn't let go of the man. "I am not paying any mind to this nonsense."
"I have lived long enough to know that words could be easily twisted and used against me," the potions master closed his eyes, feeling his every muscle slowly relax, as a wave of Harry's light magic caressed him and soothed his nerves.
"I am not Voldemort, nor am I Dumbledore," Harry said firmly, "I do not order you to make sacrifices for me, on the contrary, I want you to know that you could always find peace here with me and Domhnall, we would never turn you away... I am not going to lose you again, seventeen years was quite enough, thank you very much."
"You should have shown such zeal at the school," Severus laughed bitterly, "Why are you so adamant to persuade me?" No, he simply found he liked to be persuaded in such fashion.
"Because I need you," Harry once again pulled away to look at him. He took the long, thin face of his father in his both hands, "I thought that I was an adult, that I could live on my own, raise a child, be independent and self-sufficient but I am not. The more I give Domhnall, the more I feel I have missed myself. I crave it, I want to be a son as well, I want to be cared for by my father." Harry pressed their foreheads and long noses together, uncertain what else could he say to express what he felt, to make Severus understand.
He never imagined such gesture could be so intimate. Feeling Harry so close was unbelievably satisfying, comforting. Not really thinking what he was doing for, probably, the first time in his adult life, Severus tilted his head and kissed the boy's scarred forehead. Somehow it felt the right thing to do. His lips stayed there for a few long seconds while he was thinking of how his mother used to kiss him in the past, how much he enjoyed her caresses. Involuntarily, he moved to place another kiss, on the brow and a small smile appeared on his lips, when he heard Harry hum pleasantly. Others never really enjoyed his touch, even in bed women never showed any kind of desire to be kissed. But Harry turned his face for a better angle and smiled when Severus placed a fleeting kiss on his temple.
"Thanks, dad," he sighed and kissed Severus back, on the cheek again, completely relaxing against the tall, thin frame cladded in black. He knew there was hidden gentleness in the snarky man, he knew his father was capable of kindness and affection, love. He wasn't a monster, he was just a bitter, broken man, crippled by life and those who surrounded him. Harry could relate to that and dearly wished he could fix at least some of the damage. He found this strong desire to heal and love those in need as of late, as if the light itself was struggling to come out of him and fight away the shadows and the coming storm. Harry wanted his family to be strong and happy, for he was tired of loneliness and sorrow.
"Thank you, Harry," Severus whispered. If anybody had told him he would enjoy cuddling so much, he would have laughed them in their faces, but now he thought he wouldn't barter it for anything else. Nor would he sneer at the word "dad" anymore either. It caressed his ears and made his heart tremble in joy. He used to think only potions and alcohol could put a wizard into a state of ecstasy, elation and pleasure, but now he knew he was wrong. His son had managed it in just a few words and hugs.
Harry smiled and kissed him once again and pulled away completely, "Come, I will make you tea before you have to leave."
Severus' usual snide tone caught him at the threshold, "You know you could apparate straight into the kitchen, don't you?"
"Apparition is for lazy bastards like snakeface," Harry shrugged his shoulders carelessly, "Are you coming or not?"
Severus could only shake his head at his son's arrogance and hide his smile, that threatened to stretch his lips. He followed Harry out and down the stairs, feeling surprisingly warm and truly calm inside, unhinged and relaxed, as if there was no war going on, as if there were no dark and light lords, only magic and his family. Yes, his family. He wondered if Eileen was proud of him, wherever her spirit was now.
Harry was sitting behind the kitchen table with several different issues of newspapers opened before him, reading the same articles over and over again - that was how Voldemort found him, when he entered with Domhnall in his arms and a bright, arrogant smile on his lips. "Horrible news, isn't it?" he drawled nonchalantly, sitting down next to the raven haired wizard.
"You have set it all up, haven't you?" Harry scowled.
"Oh, but Harry, don't you know how muggles are? All they need is a little push and then you may sit back and relax, and watch the show," the Dark Lord laughed coldly, watching his Prince out of the corner of his eye, as he kept playing with Domhnall.
"It is still killing, Marvolo," Harry shook his head, sighing forlornly. "Here it says a group of muggles killed a young witch and here," he pushed one of the papers closer, "It says a wizard accidentally blew up a muggle that was threatening him with a gun... I don't like this, it can spiral out of control and then even you wouldn't be able to stop them."
"Harry, our community needs to be shaken up, needs to see it all for themselves. If you truly believe that nothing like this hasn't happened before without my help, then you are even more naive than I imagined. It is not a disadvantage though, I find it rather arousing and lovely, but you should really stop trying to save everybody. It is impossible, you are intelligent enough to understand that," Voldemort said, arching his eyebrows. "What I did was simply prevent the editors and the Ministry from covering all these crimes. Do you truly believe I have instigated so many?" he waved his hand at the newspapers.
"Haven't you?" Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"This is the foundation for your future work, Harry, don't give me this shit now," Voldemort hissed, suddenly angry at the young wizard for whom he had to change so much in his original plans.
"And what if they wouldn't listen? What if they would simply reject me like the last time, call me insane and the next Dark Lord in making, hmm?" Harry looked up at hearing the irritation and displeasure in Marvolo's voice. He often forgot about all the vows the man had given him and flinched every time the dark wizard showed his vindictive nature, afraid he would attack him. But there was no malice in the blood red eyes, though the dark scowl was in its place and Harry felt an irrepressible desire to smoothen it with his fingers and lips.
"They would, they have no choice," Voldemort cut off with finality and turned back to Domhnall, who was watching him quietly, barely breathing, with his green eyes widened in curiosity. The Dark Lord gently stroked the wavy hair of an already easily sitting boy in his lap. The caress made Domhnall smile again.
"Well, I hope you are right," Harry lowered his eyes. Marvolo was always right.
"Why, you doubt me?" the Dark Lord placed his hand over his heart, morphing his face into a pained, grotesque expression, "Harry, you wound me."
"Stop mocking me, you moron," the young wizard muttered, hiding his smile. "Should have become a clown instead of a serial killer."
"There were no vacancies at that time, I had to take what was available," Voldemort grinned, pleased that Harry felt comfortable around him again.
"What did you really want to do back then?" Harry asked as a matter-of-factly, curious to know more about the man.
Voldemort considered him for a moment, but then decided it wouldn't hurt to tell his Prince a little about himself. "I wanted to teach at Hogwarts, wanted to teach both dark and light magic, curses and defense against them. But I was rejected the DADA position, twice."
"You wanted to be a teacher?" Harry stared at Marvolo incredulously, seeing him in a completely different light.
"What, did you think I was bearing the plot of a world dominance since I had stopped sleeping in a crib?" he burst into a booming laughter, making Domhnall jerk in excitement at the loud sound.
"No, I just never imagined you like children and have enough patience to work with them," Harry blushed a little, smiling modestly, inwardly laughing at the image of Marvolo, just like Severus, screaming at his students and cursing them into oblivion.
"I hate children, but I know how to discipline them," Voldemort gave him an indulging smile. "And yes, I am very patient, you should know that better than anyone," he sent Harry a pointed glare.
Blushing even more at the innuendo, Harry ducked his head, trying to hide his embarrassment. "But why were you denied the position?"
"Because Dumbledore thought I was Satan and was going to turn his students into my followers and take over the world from inside Hogwarts," Voldemort sneered, laughing coldly at the unpleasant memories.
"Was he wrong?" Harry raised his eyebrows sarcastically, trying to hide his burning face behind a newspaper.
"In fact, he was," the Dark Lord gave the raven haired wizard a serious, pained glare. "I wouldn't have had to start war and kill so many, Harry, if I had this position at school. I would have changed our society gradually, through their education, through their understanding of both light and dark sides of their own nature. Nobody is innocent, yet nobody is born evil, you know that."
Nobody is born a monster, not even dark lords. "Yes, I know, Marvolo." His eyes locked with the blood red ones and something unreadable, indecipherable transpired between the two of them, a spark, that sent shivers down his spine. "What were you doing after Hogwarts then?" he asked in a suddenly raspy, shuddering voice.
"I hunted down the relics for my horcruxes and went abroad to study the Dark Arts," Voldemort said simply. "The locket you are wearing around your neck is my family heirloom I had to steal, because I had no money to pay for it," he smiled at Harry mischievously.
"Is it?" Harry took the locket in his hand and examined it for, what it seemed, a hundredth time already. "The S is for Slytherin then, isn't it? The locket opens only when I command it in parseltongue."
"Yes, I am the last living heir of Salazar Slytherin, as I am sure my younger self had told you all about," the Dark Lord barked out a laugh. "Oh, no, I am actually wrong! This is the last living heir to the mighty warlock," he kissed Domhnall on the forehead, tickling the boy and laughing at his happy squeaks. Funny, that he hadn't thought about it before. His son was, in fact, the Slytherin heir, the Slytherin Prince, as he himself had been called by his peers. Looking into the big, green eyes full of joy and cunningness, he couldn't help but feel... proud. He never gave his bloodline another thought, but the one of purity and prestige, and now he held his little legacy in his arms, the one who was going to continue the line of parselmouths, the line of dark, powerful, great wizards. Who would have thought that he would find such satisfaction and surge of pride in having Domhnall? Was it what Harry felt towards the boy as well?
Harry watched the many emotions, so foreign for Marvolo, play on his face and couldn't help but smile at the man. "You are proud of him, aren't you?" Somehow the notion that the Dark Lord was capable of such feelings made him happy. Perhaps, despite all of his disadvantages and mistakes Marvolo would be a good father to Domhnall.
"Aren't you?" was the reply. Voldemort kept grinning at the little boy, who was bubbling and tugging on his clothes playfully.
"Of course I am." Harry's sincere, ringing laughter caressed his ears - his Prince laughed so rarely for him, and he enjoyed this sound so much. Domhnall inherited it from his young father. "I am glad you are growing close to each other," something compelled Harry to pat the wizard's arm and hold it for some time, for it was too hard to let go of the one he wanted so much.
Domhnall had once again brought him a small victory in this long, hard battle, Voldemort thought, looking at the narrow, pale hand squeezing his limb ever so slightly. At the boy's loud yawning, the Dark Lord smiled softly and stood up, cradling Domhnall in his arms, "I think it is time for the little Prince to go to sleep." He apparated straight into the nursery, shaking his head at the sound of Harry's stubborn steps on the stairs. Voldemort put the boy into the crib, kissing him and whispering good night in parseltongue, thinking it was time to teach his son to get used to the sound of his second native language. Straightening, he looked around the room, curiously inspecting the many toys and books Harry left around and, as it seemed, used constantly in his games with Domhnall. His gaze fell on one particular book, that seemed out of place here - Transfiguration for Hogwarts' students. He picked it up just in time when Harry entered.
"Is Domhnall that smart?" he waved the book in front of his face, smiling incredulously.
"No, it's mine, I forgot it here yesterday," Harry shrugged his shoulders and went to kiss and tuck in his son, who was already falling asleep and yawning adorably.
"Why are you even reading it?" Voldemort asked, when the young wizard turned off the lights and followed him out of the nursery.
"I am studying the material I am missing at the school," Harry took the book out of Marvolo's hands. "I have to go and practice now, by the way, since I haven't done it yesterday. So you should leave, it will take a lot of time," he couldn't help but sigh, twisting his lips in devastation at the mere thought that he was going to abuse the bloody match yet again. He forgot to ask Severus to help him out with this.
"Having any troubles?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow, watching the other man mirthfully.
He was reluctant to admit he was experiencing problems with one of his best subjects, but since Marvolo would know if he lied anyway, he let out another heavy sigh and gritted through his clenched teeth, "Yes."
"May I offer my help? I know for a fact that Hogwarts' curriculum hasn't changed since the time of my youth and I am very well versed in the material I have once studied," the Dark Lord purred, excited at the prospect of being so close to Harry, of the opportunity to taste his magic while he practiced.
Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but nodded and walked into his training room. He took out his holly wand and froze, indecisive of what to do next. "I can't turn inanimate object into an animate. I do change the form but not the meaning."
"Oh, this is easy, it simply requires a balanced magic behind your intent, which is your problem, of course, since your powers grew dramatically," Voldemort rubbed his chin thoughtfully, assessing Harry's aura. "I will help you with this. Come closer," he crooked his finger at the young wizard, smiling cunningly.
"What for?" Harry eyed him warily, clutching on his wand tighter.
"I will be controlling your power while you are casting a spell and you would feel the difference, the one you are trying so hard to find on your own," Voldemort explained, taking a step closer.
"Fine, but no fucking around!" Harry warned and came to stand at the table, where the blasted match lay, waiting for him. He shivered when Marvolo moved behind him, pressing his chest against Harry's back and covered his right hand with his cold one, curling his long fingers around Harry's and his wand.
"Cast the spell and do not mind my presence, concentrate on what you want to make of the match," Voldemort whispered into his ear, caressing the holly wand with the tip of his finger - it vibrated in their hands, feeling their different yet very powerful auras unite into one. Compatibility between a light and a dark wizards was very rare and mostly transpired between distant relatives, but he and Harry shared a soul and a child - there was nothing closer than this.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearing his mind. He formed an image of the match slowly morphing into a green branch with a small bud on its tip. Concentrated, he whispered the incantation and felt as his wand suddenly warmed up and fell comfortably into his hand, just like before. His magic floated freely, easily, almost lazily and when he looked up, there was a blooming crimson rose on the table before him. Harry couldn't help but gasp at the sight of it, at the pleasant feeling of his magic being tamed and obedient, right.
"See, you are a talented wizard, you simply needed to find your balance," the Dark Lord murmured, licking on his ear, as his left arm circled Harry's waist and his hard bulge of erection pressed against Harry's backside. Casting a spell together through one wand was a befuddling experience, it felt as if he injected the sweet, light magic into his vein and it brought him to his highest peak, stronger than any kind of a drug.
"Yeah," Harry breathed out, barely catching his air, as his blood rushed into his groin and he moaned at the sensation of Marvolo's hardness. How long had it been since he had sex? His body craved it so much. He dropped his wand and grabbed the man's cold hand, entwining their fingers together.
"Harry," Voldemort panted, sucking on his neck, "Please." He turned his Prince sharply around and bit into his mouth, enveloping him into a desperate embrace, choking him in his tight hold. Harry's eager answer encouraged him and he pushed the raven haired wizard back and propped him up on the table, pushing in between his thighs, circling his legs around his hips. Drunk on their shared lust, Harry hastily unbuttoned Marvolo's vest and shirt and licked on the bare pale chest, reveling in the man's pleased groans. Grabbing on the long, raven hair, Voldemort brought Harry's face closer to his own and kissed him passionately, thrusting his tongue as deep as he could, while his other hand pushed the young man further onto the table and down on his back. He crawled up to hover over him and take off his clothes, as Harry kept kissing him and caressing his chest.
When Voldemort reached the trousers, he pulled away to look at his Prince questioningly and pleadingly, but this time Harry was too far gone to stop him. "Please, Marvolo, I want you," he whined and unzipped himself to the Dark Lord's overwhelming delight. Growling like a beast, Voldemort tore the clothes off of Harry and hurried to banish his own, to rub his hard cock against the other's.
As their skins touched, Harry bucked his hips up, searching for friction. Marvolo's rigid flesh pressed against his own and he cried softly in pleasure, arching his back and drawing his neck to let the man suck on it harshly, possessively. They both moved fast, rocking against each other, panting and moaning, sweating. Harry reached down to stroke their cocks, rolling his eyes back in blissful sensation of orgasm coming over him. Touching Marvolo was so exciting, it drove the dark wizard insane and turned him into a pitifully whining animal. "Yes, Harry," Voldemort growled into his mouth, "Help me come." He moved faster, rubbing their cocks against each other and Harry's hand, slapping sweated skin against skin.
"Marvolo!" Harry cried, tearing himself away from the greedy mouth and jerking violently, as his pulsing penis poured out the hot sperm. He thought his heart would jump out of his chest, so overexcited, overwhelmed he felt, so fucking good. He looked up at Marvolo, whose face bore a most ecstatic expression he had ever seen, and caught his breath watching the dark wizard come, panting and calling his name. Harry couldn't resist the temptation to touch the creased, sweated brow, caress the tensed jaw and push his fingers between the swollen, plump lips. Marvolo sucked on them, jerking on top of Harry for the last time, squeezing out the last drop of his semen into Harry's hand.
"Oh, Harry, my sweet, sweet Prince," Voldemort mumbled, licking on the warm fingers, slowly relaxing his tensed muscles. His glazed ruby eyes watched the young pale face, taking in every little detail: bids of sweat on the scarred forehead; a lonely tear of ecstasy trailing down the left cheek; parted red lips, quivering slightly, as if suppressing a smile; bright, emerald eyes full of passion, lust and happiness. "I have waited for so long," the Dark Lord sighed contentedly, enveloping Harry into a gentle embrace and rubbing his cheek against the wizard's, sucking on his earlobe. Harry circled his arms around the broad chest and stroked the bare back, feeling for muscles, bones, moles and scars, mapping its every inch. He trembled inside, suddenly sober and aware of what had just happened. Marvolo's lips caught his into a gentle kiss and Harry sighed, whimpering softly despite himself. "What is it, Harry?" the man asked, caressing his face lovingly.
I am scared I am falling in love with you. "I am sorry," Harry murmured instead, self-conscious to pronounce the truth.
"You shouldn't be - I would have waited much more, I am very patient, remember?" Voldemort offered him a smug smile, though his brow creased in confusion. He felt it in Harry's aura, felt the tension, the uncertainty and fear. "What are you afraid of, my little one?" he asked, looking intently into the shining green eyes.
Biting his lower lip and feeling the lump clogging his throat, Harry breathed out, "Myself." At Marvolo's inquiring glance he shook his head and smiled weakly, "Don't mind it, it is nothing... My hormones, I am still super sensitive to everything after... you know..." he stammered and finally shut up, knowing by the look the other man gave him, that his lame excuse didn't work.
"Harry, I wish you could tell me what is tormenting you so much," Voldemort sighed, hating the fact that his Prince was reluctant to tell him the truth. "Come, let's put you into bed," he took Harry in his arms and apparated them both into the bedroom, right onto the mattress.
"Are you... are you leaving?" Harry asked in a small voice, when Marvolo let go of him and moved to stand up. No matter what he felt now, sleeping alone was the last thing he wanted tonight, not after Marvolo made him feel so good again.
"Do you wish me to stay?" There was too much hope in his voice, he knew, but he couldn't miss an opportunity to spend more time with Harry, especially when the desire was mutual.
Harry took him by the arm and pulled him close to lie by his side, snaking his warm arms around Marvolo's narrow waist, "Yes." Smiling brilliantly, Voldemort kissed him deeply, as his hands roamed shamelessly all over Harry's heated body. Finally.
Harry woke up very easily, having have simply opened his eyes, as if he had just blinked. He felt completely relaxed and so well rested, like he hadn't had felt in a very long time. Domhnall was a perfect baby, he slept through the nights, but Harry didn't - he often stayed late practicing, reading or simply suffering from insomnia, thinking about the ruby eyed man. But today was different. At first he couldn't fathom why. But then a cold hand slipped down his chest and onto his stomach, as Marvolo stirred behind him, and he remembered. The man pressed harder into his frame, snoring into the nape of his neck, his heart beat steadily against Harry's back. It was so warm in his bed now, so comfortable under the covers, Harry didn't want to get up. He forgot how wonderful it was to sleep with Marvolo.
"Just a little more, Harry, ten minutes, alright?" he heard the man mumble sleepily into his neck and snore again. Who would have thought that the Dark Lord was such a sleepyhead and hated mornings? Harry grinned to himself, inwardly laughing at how human the man was, how childish sometimes. Where had all his cruelty come from? He carefully turned to face Marvolo, who rolled on his back and was sleeping so soundly, peacefully. Harry reached out and tucked the stray chestnut locks behind his ear, brushing his fingers against the slight stubble on his jaw - so manly, so mundane, so lovely. His hand slid lower to caress the long neck, the delicate collarbones, the broad chest with little hair on it. Unable to resist it, Harry kissed one of the nipples softly and pushed his leg to lie between Marvolo's, to warm him up, for he knew the dark wizard was always cold. He heard the man sigh pleasantly, when his tongue teased the sensitive flesh and Harry moved lower, encouraged to touch and kiss more. Stroking the toned but thin stomach, he traced the sparse hairline with featherlight kisses, humming quietly into the soft skin. How he admired Marvolo's body, how he loved feeling it under his fingers and lips.
Harry was evidently aroused when he reached the pelvis, as was Marvolo, who kept moaning weakly in his sleep. He stopped, uncertain at first, for he hadn't had given a blowjob in such a long time, but the sight of the man's thick, long cock turned him on, bringing forth the memories of all the heated, amazing nights they had spent together in the past, the images from all the wet dreams he had been seeing so often. Breathing out impatiently, Harry kissed its base, tracing the length of the shaft with his tongue and sucked on the head, moaning indecently, as his own cock throbbed, demanding more action. "Harry..." Marvolo whispered dreamily, bucking his hips up, grabbing on the covers of the bed tightly. Oh fuck. Harry took the hard flesh into his hand and stroked it harshly, kissing and sucking on the heavy sack of balls underneath it, drawing low groans out of the man's throat. Taking the head into his mouth, he slowly pushed the thick length further inside, trembling in pleasure at the bittersweet taste of the skin on his tongue. Harry knew Marvolo was awake when he was quickly sliding up and down the pulsing cock, for the man grabbed on his long hair and tugged on them desperately, pushing forward, trying to thrust deeper into his throat.
"Fuck, Harry, don't... stop..." Voldemort cried out incomprehensibly and came into Harry's mouth, arching his back, as his body tensed and jerked in a breathtaking pleasure. Shaking all over, he squeezed his eyes shut, for the room was spinning around him, and laughed sleepily and exhaustedly, "Fuck, Harry, what should I do to wake up every morning in your mouth?"
"I will think of something," he heard Harry smile against his groin, as the young wizard sprawled on top of him. Voldemort looked down at him and smiled at the sight of his flushed face with a mischievous grin playing on his red, swollen lips. "Perhaps, you could help me out now?" his Prince wriggled his eyebrows, drawing patterns with his finger on the Dark Lord's skin.
Not the one to be asked twice, Voldemort pulled him up and in a flash Harry found himself pinned down to the bed, with his hands held up above his head. "Would you like me to give you some real pleasure, Harry?" Marvolo purred, teasing him with brief, wet kisses. "Would you like to feel my cock inside of you, let it stretch you well?" his low, rich voice touched something deep inside Harry, probably his very prostate, he thought.
Squirming underneath Marvolo's weight, Harry looked into the burning blood red eyes and asked himself if he could stop, having had gone this far. His throbbing, stiffened cock told him he couldn't and he raised his head to catch the lecherous rose lips in a proper, passionate kiss. "Yes, I would like that very much." Harry thought Marvolo's amusedly surprised and pleased expression was worth it all, when the dark wizard assaulted his mouth, squeezing his body in a painful, lustful embrace, forcefully spreading his thighs apart. Perhaps, it was the echo of his fear of falling in love with the man, perhaps, it was his body, afraid of the pain after such a long pause in his sex life, or, perhaps, it was just his own desire, that made him struggle against Marvolo, add an exciting element of possible violence that would never truly transpire between them - that much Harry knew. He trusted Marvolo not to hurt him, like he had never trusted anybody else, even himself.
"Harry, Harry," Voldemort growled playfully, finally pushing the head of his cock into the tiny, warm entrance, too impatient to stretch his Prince with his fingers. He murmured a complex incantation, stoking Harry's pelvis, that made his tensed muscles instantly relax, and thrust inside with outmost care and gentleness, kissing away the young man's cry of pain. This was his undoing, his heaven, his Prince was so tight, so hot, he couldn't believe he was capable of depraving himself of such pleasure for so long. "So good, Harry, you are... absolutely... magical," he whined into the other's mouth, thrusting his cock again and again, holding Harry tightly in his arms.
It hurt, but it was a pleasant pain, Harry couldn't stop crying and asking for more. Marvolo was so gentle, so careful, so kind to him, and feeling him inside again was freeing and heartbreaking. He didn't know why, but at this very moment, when the hard head of the thick cock brushed so wonderfully against his prostate, he remembered the man's threat, that he would never be able to hide away from him again, that he would never leave, would always be with him, and this memory brought Harry to an almost hysterical orgasm, for all that he wanted now was for Marvolo to never go away again. gree"Don't ever leave me, please," he burst into tears of happiness, after he came, screaming, and clutched onto the other man desperately, crying, as his body was being ravished harshly.
"I won't, I promised, remember?" Voldemort whispered, barely making his numb tongue move and thrust one last time inside, as his penis throbbed and poured out a hot sperm. Fucking Harry was the best experience in his life and feeling his happiness was making it all even better, priceless, unforgettable. Nobody had ever been happy being with him, nobody had ever genuinely desired him, but Harry. "I hope you are not crying of pain?" he laughed softly, licking the salty tears off of the young man's cheeks, caressing his body and face.
"No, I... am simply happy, I am just so hyper sensitive," Harry laughed as well, smiling apologetically, enjoying the feeling of Marvolo's cock softening gradually inside of him. He had once believed that sex was yet another punishment in his life, but now it was a blessing, a closure for the both of them. The blood red eyes shone so brightly, watched him so affectionately... Could they really be happy together, even if Harry could never forgive him for everything he had done? Was it possible?
"I... am happy too," Voldemort murmured, creasing his brow slightly. "I believe I have never felt anything like this before, but I think it is happiness. However, I would be even happier if this," he gestured at his and Harry's position, "Would happen every night and, preferably, every day."
Harry couldn't help but burst into laughter at the man's unbelievable arrogance, "You are such a slytherin bastard, Marvolo!"
"I am," Voldemort grinned and kissed his Prince, trying to breath in his ringing laughter, to hide it inside himself so that it could warm him in the moments of loneliness, which, he evilly thought, were going to be rare from now on.
The sounds of Domhnall's indignant cries interrupted them and Harry patted Marvolo on his hide, "Your son is calling. Would you mind?"
Rolling onto his side, Voldemort stretched on the bed, groaning pleasantly at the subsiding pain in his stiffened muscles. Relaxed and sated, content, he watched Harry throw a nightshirt over his naked body, covered in light bruises from his hands, and smiled at the sight. The young wizard smiled back at him over his shoulder and left. The Dark Lord thought he was actually happy now, wasn't he? His mind was cleared, his soul was at peace and his heart sang. For the first time in his life he thought he could use this phrasing in describing his own emotional state - he used to laugh at it when stumbled upon it in many muggle novels in his library. He never imagined he missed Harry so much, never imagined it would be so truly magical to be with him again, to have and to hold him, to fuck and to caress him, to hear him laugh, to watch him cry, to be asked to stay and never leave. Of course he knew that he and Harry would always have problems regarding his work, his Dark Lord entity, his way of dealing with people, but somehow he thought it all to be insignificant. What was this nonsense in comparison with every night he was going to spend in the arms of the only person he actually liked and trusted? Oh, but he did trust Harry - his Prince was the only one who had no interest or desire to betray him, his light, kind, forgiving nature was above such low vices. And he liked him, liked everything about him - something he had never experienced before either. He felt proud, smug, that a man like Harold Prince belonged to him and wanted him and him alone.
"His highness wished to see you," Harry appeared at the threshold, holding Domhnall in his arms, who screamed excitedly at the sight of his father. Voldemort couldn't help but grin at the boy's antics - he never knew a child's love could make a man so full of himself, so proud and elated, delighted. Harry climbed onto the bed and sat next to him, letting Domhnall move over onto his chest and sit up on it, bubbling incomprehensibly and looking at him with wide, adoring eyes.
"I think he is in love with me," Voldemort drawled sarcastically, stroking his son's hair and plump cheeks, involuntarily grimacing back at his ridiculous, small faces.
Watching the two of them, feeling his heart melt and tears well up in his eyes, Harry desperately wished to say that it was he, who was in love with the Dark Lord Voldemort, but kept his mouth firmly shut, too scared to be rejected or laughed at, or simply ignored. It was impossible to predict Marvolo's reaction, what was worse, he still wasn't sure the man realized what love was and if he was capable of it at all. It was better to tell himself that he was mistaken, that it wasn't love, just his hormones. And though his intuition was telling him that Marvolo had done too much to be doubted in his intentions and feelings, Harry was too uncertain and frightened of the notion that once he said it aloud, it would become true. And then it would be his future: loving Voldemort till the day he died, for he knew he could never love anybody else. How could he, when they were one, parts of each other, two sides of one coin?