Harry stormed into his kitchen, battle waging in his face. He tore his uniform open and slammed his hands on the counter. “Why did you vote against me?!”
Colonel Riddle–wrong, he was Colonel Potter now–was making tea. Unconcerned, he waved his hand and the teapot poured. “Wizarding Britain’s alliance with the wizards of Bulgaria is more sensitive.”
“People are dying! You could change everything in an afternoon, but you won’t. You don’t care–no, you might even like it. You’ll happily wait until it’s over and scavenge the rubble like a rat!”
“A rat? That is amusing,” the Colonel said, his teacup at his mouth, but he was far from amused.
Harry snarled. His hands on the kitchen table clenched, his nails cutting into his palm.
“You wanted to be a Potter. So do the right thing.”
“Oh? Haven’t you lost enough family in combat, Harry?”
Harry snarled. Both of them knew it wasn't luckless combat that killed his parents all those years ago, but a heartless bomb of magic from the man in front of him. Colonel Tom Riddle was legendary for how he could turn the tides of war in one swooping spell. That day he’d done it again: many foes fell, but so had many friends.
“Somehow I don’t think this loss would hurt.”
“You wish to be alone in your life? How peculiar. I thought that I was the only one.”
“If you like being alone so badly, why push to marry me?”
“Every Colonel Potter has become General. In marrying you, I shall be among them.”
85 years ago, Harry’s great grandfather convinced the wizarding world to help the Muggles during the Great War. The Potters had been an influential family, militarily and politically, ever since. As the only descendant Harry should have expected to become someone’s prize bride. But to be Riddle’s was insufferable–Riddle, the septuagenarian powerhouse who hadn’t advanced in decades due to his own disregard for life.
“You'll ruin us all.”
Tom snapped forward and grabbed Harry’s jaw tight enough to bruise.
“I suppose I should not wait for my supportive husband’s owl on the frontlines. But be mindful, Major Potter , I am not your obedient dog. I will give you this, but only this–a wedding gift. But from this point forward you don't have the right to the word ‘no’.”
“What–”
Riddle licked the entire side of Harry’s face. His depraved tongue wrapped around Harry's Adam's apple, sliding deep under his jaw and then over his ear.
“Don’t!” Harry struggled but Riddle sunk in his claws, drawing blood where his nails pierced like an electric whip across Harry's jaw. Then he released Harry's face like he was throwing him.
Harry struggled to keep his balance. He wiped his face dry, but not clean.
Riddle was already leaving, so Harry had to shout, “No firing on our side!”
“Rest assured, child: I have never hurt a hair on the head of someone who is on my side.”