Rain on my Wings
AN: I can't believe it took me so long before I managed to finally fulfill this claim by Isys Skeeter. And, since I dropped the one with bathroom sex due to being unable to write something interesting enough on its own, I will indulge you with a bit of smut here.
This is a oneshot.
Harry tiptoed through the corridor of their mansion, taking great care not to make a sound; it wouldn't do to upset his husband so soon after their wedding, so he did his best not to alert the House Elves of what he was about to do. Even though Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had drilled in him all the rules of pureblood etiquette, Harry's stubborn and curious nature remained untouched and this explained why Harry was looking for Voldemort's work office instead of avoiding it like the plague.
You see, Harry really wanted to know what was in the ebonized cherry box that Fleur Delacour had delivered a few days prior. Voldemort hadn't allowed Harry to look inside, opting instead to lock it in one of the drawers in his office desk soon after.
Harry hadn't expected to marry so young; hell, he wasn't even eighteen when he and Voldemort bonded. Voldemort had attacked the castle in May; Harry was given an hour to capitulate lest everyone will be annihilated. Finding out that he was a horcrux, Harry walked towards the Forbidden Forest with a heavy heart; he walked into the hands of the enemy expecting the same green ending as his parents.
Instead, he had found a very irritated Voldemort who pushed a piece of parchment and a blood quill in his hands and told him to sign.
Harry stared at the contract in shock; he refused to sign, but then they brought out a bound and gagged Hagrid, and Harry had to sign.
The quill was taken from him, but Voldemort allowed the bewildered boy to hold on to the parchment while he organized the march. As Harry calmed down, finally read the contract in silence as Voldemort's tight grip on the right arm pulled him forward.
Harry lowered his eyes, unable to look at everyone that came out of the castle to hear Voldemort's announcement. He couldn't look Ginny in the eye, knowing that he will never kiss her again, never hold her again. Her scream of disbelief tore at his heart, yet he found that he no longer had the courage to look at her.
Voldemort allowed a Peace Treaty to be formed between the two sides; weirdly enough for Harry and the Order, the meeting had gone without incidents and the official ministry document mostly allowed Hogwarts independence, but the curriculum (especially for History of Magic) was revised and three new classes - Dark Arts, Wizarding Etiquette and Politics were added as compulsory. The new Dark Arts class coexisted with the Defense class, and the curriculum, inspired loosely from Durmstrang insured a relatively safe learning and understanding of this particularly difficult branch of magic. The Muggleborn were allowed to attend Hogwarts, but their parents were placed under a spell that didn't allow them to talk about the Wizarding World, and the Muggleborn themselves were expected to work in the Wizarding World after graduation. Should they choose to return to the Muggle World, they were to be Obliviated.
A few laws regarding Dark Artifacts and Blood Magic were abolished, and others were set in place.
It seemed that Voldemort had figured out about Harry being his Horcrux after the distruction of the diadem, and he had seen the Pensieve Memories at the same time as Harry. Snape's death had been a strong blow to Harry, and he was fearful and confused, his confusion only increasing after the first memory, so the boy hadn't felt Voldemort's gentle intrusion.
The contract that Voldemort had written in the minutes Harry needed to get to the Forbidden Firest prevented the two from killing each other or themselves. Any breach in the contract resulted in the death of the culprit and of all those "connected by any bonds" to the him. Harry understood that Voldemort now held hostage everyone Harry cared about – which was pretty much everyone left alive in Hogwarts.
It would have been easy if his life was the only one endangered, since he had gone to the Forest to sacrifice himself anyway, but he couldn't bear to lose another friend.
Luna had been the first to come to him after Voldemort gave them the speech about his victory over Potter, the conditions of the contract and their bonding and Dissaparated with his Death Eaters, leaving Harry behind.
Harry let himself be embraced and broke down in painful sobs, hiding his face in her light golden hair.
Neville approached him next, followed by Hermione and Professor McGonagall. Ginny ran back inside the castle. In fact, when he finally raised his head to scan the crowd, there were no more ginger heads to be seen.
Ron had needed a long time to accept the situation, but he came through in the end. Harry couldn't imagine anyone else as his best man, even though Neville could have filled that place quite nicely. Ginny had stopped talking to him. It was for the best, he mused.
One month later, after learning Etiquette from the Malfoy family, Harry was married and moved to Voldemort's Manor.
As he arrived in front on his husband's office, Harry took out his wand. Thankfully, he was now an adult, so casting a few spells to check the wards in his room shouldn't alert the Ministry, where his dear husband was still caught up with work.
The weather had suddenly turned for the worse that late evening; the wind had intensified and Harry could bet a storm was coming, which meant Voldemort would be forced to Floo in the Main Hall, and Harry would be alerted and have the time to leave the office. Good.
After dispelling whatever wards he could sense, Harry went straight for the office desk.
The wards on Voldemort's desk war far more complex than the ones on the door, as far as Harry could tell. There was no way he couldn't trigger the alarm this time, so he resigned himself to open the drawer and accept the punishment that would come with his actions. He was happy that the contract didn't allow Voldemort to hurt him too much.
He opened the lid of the beautifully sculpted box with the enthusiasm of a child finding the cookie jar, and he took a look inside just in time to see a beautifully ornate key…with wings that started flapping immediately. He blinked and tilted his head in confusion. The key took off and Harry jumped to catch it, but it had already flown out of reach for the short boy. Harry shouted the Summoning Charm, but the key seemed to have been bewitched against it, so Harry could only watch with increasing fear as it rushed towards the window at full speed, smashing Voldemort's window and disappearing into the night.
Harry knew he only had one chance: to grab a broom and look for it.
He summoned his Nimbus 2000 (wedding gift from Blaise Zabini – a quiet Slytherin boy in his year) and he mounted it. He could still remember the instructions he had received in his first year, during that catastrophic Flying Class, so he took off with almost no problem.
He decided to stick close to ground level at first and look up, hoping that maybe he could spot the key, but no suck luck! At least, he mused, the key was quite big and golden, so he would spot it if it was to fly in his vicinity.
A few minutes later into the search, it started to rain. He cast a quick Impervious Charm on his glasses and kept searching, this time climbing a little higher.
Looking around in the dark, his wand keeping a Lumos Maxima on constantly, he finally spotted the Key; diving after it, he managed to finally catch it.
In his worry and later euphoria, Harry didn't realize how far from the ground he was until he saw the tower of the five floor Manor twenty meters below him. He froze with the hand on the handle, swaying with dizziness.
"Don't look down! Don't look down!" he chanted, shaking with his eyes closed.
But he needed to look down in order to land, so he chanced to open one eye, and that's when lightning struck.
Harry flinched violently, thinking about what a stupid death he would have if he was to be hit by lightning, and that was all it took for the broom to dive towards the ground at full speed. Scared, Harry instinctively let go of the handle, and he was falling…falling…
Harry opened his eyes to the sight of their en suite bathroom. Voldemort's always pale face was looming above him, his ruby eyes narrowed in barely repressed anger.
All his courage left Harry when he saw his husband. He could feel the metal of the key in his clenched fist, so at least one thing had gone right, but he was pretty sure Voldemort could find horrible ways to punish him even without using the Cruciatus.
"Idiotic Gryffindor, what do you think you were doing out there?" Voldemort asked calmly, and Harry knew it was just the calm before the…storm.
"They key…it escaped," the boy explained in a strained voice.
"And how did it escape?" Voldemort asked.
"I wanted just a glimpse," Harry answered. No need to lie to the man now.
"I already figured that out," Voldemort spoke impatiently. "What I'm really asking is – why did you go out to get it if you knew you are afraid of heights?"
"I had to get it. It escaped because of me," Harry answered in a small voice, looking at his feet. How interesting, his nails needed trimming. "And I kind of forgot about my fear of heights once I spotted it, ha ha!"
"Harry Potter!" Voldemort shouted.
Harry flinched and looked up.
"What were you trying to accomplish?! Your death?!" Voldemort spat, angrily. "I won't believe for a second that you did all that for a bloody key! What is it that you are dissatisfied with? I haven't touched you since the wedding ceremony! I allowed you to visit your friends, I have been accommodating with your hobbies even though Merlin knows how the Savior of the Wizarding World could possibly enjoy papercraft and gardening! Why would you go so far to get away from me?!"
"I am not trying to get myself killed!" Harry protested. "I really only wanted to get that key back! To fix my mistake! And even if I did die, why do you care? It would have been an accident, not a breach in the contract. No one could have blamed you, and you'd be getting rid of me for good!"
Voldemort opened his mouth to answer and closed it. He paced in front of Harry, clenching and unclenching his claw-like hand, and the boy took a closer look at Voldemort's long nails. Tonight he was really developing a nail obsession, he noted.
"Listen, Potter. We are married so I will look after you," Voldemort spoke slowly, looking pained as he went on. "I have sworn to protect you and care for you-"
"Those are just empty words," Harry interrupted. "You know that. You don't have to do any of the things you said you would do, at our ceremony. Just respect the contract," he said gently, to placate the irritated Dark Lord.
"But I want to," Voldemort explained. "I've never had anyone bonded to me. I've never had anyone to see as family," he said as he gently guided Harry to the filled bathtub.
"So you actually care whether I live or die?" Harry was incredulous. "Don't you hate me?"
"I hated you because of the prophecy, Harry, and because of your closeness to that man who has hated me from the day he came at my orphanage. I find no more reason to do so. You are a pleasant child, when you're not fighting me, even by Gryffindor standards." Voldemort said, averting his eyes. "Are you afraid of me, Harry?"
"No. The contract won't let you hurt me like before," Harry spoke automatically. "And it won't let you use my friends to hurt me, either."
"True, but that's not what I meant."
Harry blinked in confusion.
"What did you mean, then?"
"Does this make you uncomfortable?" Voldemort asked with a tired voice.
Voldemort' shaky hands peeled Harry's wet clothes off him, and the teen was left only in his underwear.
"Well, no. I mean, it's not like you'll have sex with me or something," Harry trailed off, looking at the water and missing the hurt expression on his husband's face.
A few moments passed, and Harry finally removed his underwear, climbing into the large bathtub. Harry could compare this bathtub easily to the Prefects bathroom and wondered whether Voldemort has gotten his idea from Hogwarts.
"Excuse me?" Harry asked absentmindedly, having already forgotten his words as soon as his tired, shivering body came in contact with the amazing hot water.
"I want you, Harry."
Harry gaped like a fish, watching Voldemort remove his outer coat.
"Why? Can you even…? I mean, do you even feel anything like…I mean," Harry finished lamely.
"If I feel something when I look at you?" the Dark Lord asked him, helpfully.
"Yes!" Harry nodded.
"Everything," Voldemort answered. "May I share this bath with you? I'm afraid catching you and carrying you here has made me all wet, and I was going to take a long bath after today anyway."
"Do you regret becoming Minister?" Harry asked with curiosity.
"Someone had to do it." Voldemort answered, narrowing his eyes in suspicion at Harry's quick change of subject.
"Someone competent," Harry agreed. "You are the best suited for it, I think."
"Flattery." Voldemort pointed with a smirk. "What about the answer to my last question?"
"Yes, come in," Harry said, turning around blushing.
Voldemort looked at boy in front of him with amusement and vanished his clothes, climbing in the bathtub with one smooth movement.
Harry heard the water splash and decided that it was safe to turn around. He faced the naked Voldemort and froze at the sight. The Dark Lord smiled at his teen husband, approaching the boy.
His bony hand rested delicately on Harry's burning cheek. His other hand rested lightly on Harry's shoulder, a safe area, he decided. For now, he would study Harry's expressions and see how to proceed from there.
"Harry, I want you and everything you have to offer," he spoke softly. "I am your husband and your only family from now on. I can offer you everything."
"Except for love," Harry muttered.
"If I knew love, I would give it to you, Harry. You're the only one worthy of it," Voldemort spoke. "That key you almost broke your neck for was given to me by the French Minister during his visit in Britain through his proxy. It belonged to Salazar's first wife, and sadly he was in a better position to acquire it than me. The key responds well to Parselmagic; I could have retrieved it at any time from anywhere."
"Then why didn't you let me see it?" Harry asked, pouting.
"It was supposed to be a gift for you, silly boy. For your birthday. For today."
Harry's eyes widened, startled. Voldemort was very weird tonight.
"Can I kiss you?" the man asked, holding Harry's gaze with an intense expression.
Could he? Voldemort had pecked him on the lips at the wedding ceremony, and that was it. But now, could he kiss him? Or maybe do more? Voldemort looked so thin and frail, now that he saw the man without robes for the first time Harry thought that he might maybe crumble if they tried sex.
Harry was completely taken over by his curiosity at this point. Was it even possible for Voldemort to do these things he desired?
"Sure," Harry answered.
Voldemort studied his face a while longer and Harry looked at him, waiting. Finally, the man tilted his chin upwards and touched his cold lips to Harry's. He moved his lips against the boy, touching, testing. Harry didn't recoil. He didn't particitate either. He just kept looking at the man, trying to decide whether he liked this weird kissing or not.
The man must have found what he was looking for, because all of a sudden, Harry found himself encased in a strong hold against the Dark Lord's bony chest, while those lips kissed and licked his lips with a passion that he couldn't, just couldn't imagine in someone like Voldemort!
Harry felt like sinking and soaring; he couldn't breathe and he couldn't protest. All he could do was moan and open his mouth for the Dark Lord to explore.
Suddenly, the man released him. Harry fell back into the large bathtub, reemerging a few seconds later to cough up water.
"Forgive me, Harry," the Dark Lord spoke once again with a detached voice. "I forgot myself there for a few moments."
"Isn't that fine? Isn't that what it's all about?" Harry asked with curiosity.
"But I can't lose control like that. You're only eighteen, for Merlin's sake," the man explained, gesticulating widely.
"Yeah, and I have taken your Cruciaus multiple times so far," he said, and Voldemort flinched at the accusation. "A kiss is not going to hurt me."
"Not just a kiss, what if I did more?"
"Didn't you just say you wanted to do more?" Harry asked him calmly.
"But you are –"
"Your husband. To be honest, I was afraid for you," Harry said quietly.
"What?!" the man whispered in disbelief.
"I know the contract didn't say anything about intimacies so I never brought it up. You were almost always away and you didn't seem to care much for me. I mean, I appreciate not being hurt and not being ordered around, but I felt more like I was tolerated than desired. Even when we slept in the same bed, you didn't as much as talk to me, much less touch me. Then, I thought that maybe, maybe you don't do touching because of bad memories from the orphanage, or because you didn't trust me, or because you hated me. Or maybe, because it would hurt you. You're so thin!"
"This is the body I obtained after the Ressurection Ritual. Do you find it repulsive?"
There it was. The big question hung between them, just another wall trying to separate them from learning about each other. Challenge accepted.
"No, but I am worried about you because I have seen a documentary on anorexia nervosa on Muggle television," he explained, looking at his husband with defiance.
Voldemort's eyes widened in amusement and he smirked.
"You think I'm anorexic?"
Harry nodded, biting his lower lip. He hadn't seen Voldemort eat a lot; they rarely ate together.
"You were worried." The man stated. "You were worried about me."
"Like it or not, you are my husband. I have accepted that by the time we were married. And you did a great job with the Peace Treaty, and the new laws are fair and you're not killing people anymore. The war is over, my life is good and you are my partner. So I worry, yeah."
"Oh, Harry!" the man spoke, attacking his mouth to the boy's lips again. "You have no idea how much it took to restrain myself when you slept next to me, so young and pure and delicious and so utterly mine!" the man said, peppering Harry's face with small kisses.
"Ngh," Harry gasped as Voldemort's wandering hands caressed his sides, finally resting on his bum and pulling the boy against his chest.
"I'll make you feel so good you will forget your name, my dear," the Dark Lord promised, turning Harry around to face his back and tasting Harry's neck now.
The boy panted and threw his head back to give his husband better access. He could feel the man's hard and apparently long penis against his backside, but instead of being afraid, he felt curious and excited at the prospect of losing his virginity. The man took hold of his own penis and pumped it a few times. Harry moaned for more.
He couldn't hear any more words. His face burned and he was sure the rest of his body burned as well. He couldn't explain how only a few simple touches from this emaciated man could make him burn like Fiendfire. Was this normal? Did everyone feel like this?
Harry searched for the man's mouth and kissed him. Voldemort kept pumping the boy's penis as they kissed, then let go to turn Harry around so the boy faced him again. Harry touched Voldemort's penis, trying to get a feel. He pumped experimentally a few times, and the man groaned appreciatively. Then, he slowly moved the boy back until they hit the wall. Harry released his penis, opting to explore his back instead. The Dark Lord easily lifted Harry in his arms, attaching his mouth to a rosy nipple. Harry cried out and held on to Voldemort's shoulders as the man worked on pleasing him. The man's head disappeared under water and a hot mouth enclosed on the head of his hardened penis.
Harry arched his back and hoped the actual sex wouldn't kill him.