Harry's loyalty
Art that inspired this fic:
~
Voldemort still couldn't believe it had taken him so long to realise that Potter was a Horcrux.
He thinks the idea had come to him fleetingly before, but he hadn't been in the right state of mind.
His soul had been mutilated into seven, and he had spent eleven years as a wraith in Albania, possessing snakes to get by. Of course, he hadn't been thinking clearly when he had come back.
When he was restructured, his memory had been fuzzy, his mind was trying to adjust to his new form, and he had felt so much rage and anger that there had been no room for logic. The only thing that had stuck was his obsession for Potter and his need to hunt him down and kill him.
He had had multiple opportunities to kill the boy, and it would have been easy too, he really was no match for Lord Voldemort. He had been expecting someone powerful like he had been when he was younger, but he had found a child instead.
A painfully average child who seemed to have dumb luck on his side and yet, instead of just killing him quickly and being done with it, he had come up with silly, elaborate schemes instead. Monologuing and playing with him, prolonging it if you will.
Looking back, it was because, whilst he might not have known that Potter was a Horcrux, his soul had. It was obviously a defence mechanism to ensure that he didn't kill Potter.
Then when the brat, with no doubt instructions from Dumbledore, began destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes, his mind began to clear.
He was no longer filled with just rage, anger, and obsession. His thinking began to get critical , more in depth and with clarity this time.
Potter was able to talk to snakes.
Voldemort was able to possess him so easily.
There were times when Potter had even been in his head.
There were times when he had begun to feel the boy's emotions.
He was a Horcrux.
There was no other explanation.
Voldemort had always been intelligent, far beyond his peers and those older than him. So it hadn't taken him long to put two and two together, and at first he had been furious, but Lord Voldemort made no mistakes.
If anything, this was a testimony of how truly powerful, impressive, and formidable he was. Who else but him could make something as complicated and frightening as a Horcrux by mistake?
Just another example of how truly potent his magic was. He was a God . It wasn't just hubris that made him think that either, the proof was in the pudding, as Ms. Cole often said. He was the most powerful magic wielder of his time or any time before him.
He was a marvel.
He suspected that Potter had no idea that he was a Horcrux either, as the boy didn't strike him as particularly intelligent, and of course, it would mean that for Voldemort to be defeated, then Potter would have to die too.
It was ironic that Dumbledore was being praised as some martyr, a symbol of light and the greater good, when he was sending a child to his death without said child even knowing.
It was laughable.
At least Voldemort was up front with his villainy, he pretended to be nothing else.
He was bad.
He was selfish.
He would send anyone to their death if it meant he could prosper.
Five out of his seven Horcruxes had been destroyed, and he was starting to look like the old him again, which was troubling.
His skin wasn't as waxy, but it was still startlingly pale, but more in a flawless porcelain way rather than the sickly way it had been. His features still had a slight serpentine hue to them, but he had a nose again, his jaw and nose back to their previous aristocratic attributes. His eyes were still blood red, but now he had flecks of dark brown, and he had his hair back, but it wasn't as thick as it had been before he started splitting his soul.
It was disconcerting.
When he was younger and armed with nothing but untapped magic potential and a handsome face, he had used his charm and charisma to get what he wanted. He would manipulate people into doing his bidding, making himself appealing and captivating. But as he got older and stronger, he had no need for that anymore.
People began to fear him, they did what he wanted regardless now because they knew what he was capable of. So he had no need to be charming, he had no need for a handsome face, and when he had found his father and seen that he had his identical appearance, it was the push he needed to want to permanently get rid of his once perfect features.
He didn't want any connection to his father or to the boy who had been raised with filthy muggles in an orphanage. He wanted to shed his past, and that's why he had created Lord Voldemort.
Tom Riddle was dead, and this was what was in his place.
Something greater, stronger, and better.
But now, looking at himself, he was almost identical to Tom Riddle. To his old self.
He wasn't as handsome; his features were still riddled and mixed with snake-like features, but he was Tom.
The thought made him sneer, and he had every single mirror removed from the Malfoy mansion.
He had been tempted to make a third Horcrux just so his face could become gaunter, waxier, and more snake-like, but he needed the clearness of mind. He couldn't afford for anything to get in his way, least of all himself.
Especially now that he had captured Potter and his takeover was on the brink of being successful.
With Lucius's tireless work in the ministry, almost every ministry official who was high up was in their pockets. Shacklebolt had been killed and replaced by someone with little backbone and plenty of greed.
Potter and his pesky sidekicks were captured.
People were tired of fighting.
The last two resistant groups had been squished quickly by Bella, Barty, and Rodolphus.
All Voldemort needed was Potter to denounce any sort of movement trying to stop Voldemort and announce his new-found loyalty, but it was delicate and had to be handled carefully.
It had been many years since Voldemort had had to be manipulative or calculated to get his way; he left that to Lucius. He usually used brute force only, but with Potter, he had to use a mixture of the two.
As Potter was a Horcrux, Voldemort was cautious of hurting him too much to the pain of death. He had learnt that the hard way after he bound a locator spell to Potter's heart, and the dramatic little welp had almost died due to the pain.
Then, when Potter had tried to help his friends escape, and as punishment, Voldemort killed his beloved Professor McGonagall in front of him to let him know every time he tried to, he would decapitate those in front of him. Potter had been locked in a room by himself afterwards and had attempted to kill himself and would have if it wasn't for Voldemort sensing that something was wrong and going to investigate.
After that, Voldemort had become much more cautious with his actual punishments, but he knew he couldn't trust Potter to be by himself without him making some sort of pathetic attempt on his life. So, whenever Voldemort had to leave for an extended period of time, he would remove Potter's arms and legs so he was unable to leave the bed.
Voldemort had then taken to completely isolating him, leaving him in the room for weeks without human contact. Only occasionally allowing himself but mostly a house elf to feed him or let him use the bathroom.
At first he had been stubborn, anger on his face, and once he had even attempted to spit at Voldemort as he snarled out insults. But after the first two months, he began to crumble.
Gone was his anger, and in its place was sorrow and fear. He would beg to be let out, beg to see his friends, and beg for Voldemort to stay so he could talk to someone.
Voldemort had to admit that he looked pretty when he cried, his eyes wet and wide as he begged. Not to mention that Voldemort did feel drawn to him due to the Horcrux; he could feel it calling to him sometimes, wanting to be reunited with him.
It was even better when he touched Potter.
At first he tried to resist.
Lord Voldemort needed no one.
Lord Voldemort did not have vices.
He was above that.
But when he touched Potter briefly, he felt a warmness spread through him. It made him feel like he was breathing in sunlight, it made his mind that was always thinking still for once. He felt serene. He felt happy.
The feeling had become addicting. He constantly thought about it, and Harry was so touch starved and desperate for human contact that he leaned into Voldemort's touches voluntarily, eager for them.
He needed Harry to be completely dependent on him so he could go through to the next stage of his plan.
Complete fear and control wouldn't work if he wanted to not only successfully take over Britain but hold it permanently too. He would still be a dictator. Lord Voldemort did not share power, but he knew he needed to be softer than he had before. He had to play politics and think about the optics to the public.
He was loath to admit that his new appearance would be helpful, people would be more receptive to him when he didn't look as gruesome.
He still looked off , there was still something very unnatural and haunting about his looks that still held snake-like qualities, and it didn't help that he was almost always with Nagini either, but Voldemort did not care; in his eyes, this was already a compromise.
But now his soul was no longer split and he wasn't shrouded in madness and anger due to being a wraith; he understood how his last approach had not worked. How he had treated his death eaters too had been bad, not that he felt guilty for it (Lord Voldemort was above such emotions), but it was why so many had tried to betray or abandon him.
Now he was in his right mind, he had somewhat apologised ( ' Living as a wraith for eleven years was not good for my mind, it made me come back angrier and different. It was why my treatment of you all had been so harsh, but it was your own fault for not trying hard enough to find me. Making me wait for that pathetic little rat who only found me due to his own fear and need for protection. Alas, I am in my right mind, so things shall change' , is what he had said.') And his treatment of his followers had somewhat improved.
He no longer punished them and tortured them without reason, and if someone had particularly messed up, he would leave it to Bellatrix or Rodolphus to handle it instead. He would even sometimes step in if Bella in particular was being too harsh so he could be seen as merciful.
His treatment of Lucius had also drastically improved. Yes, Lucius was still a slippery little snake who always seemed to land on his feet, and Voldemort knew, unlike Bella, the Lestrange brothers, and Barty, Lucius wasn't blindly loyal and instead mostly operated out of fear and self-preservation.
But it was necessary for the cause.
So Voldemort made it clear that Lucius was untouchable and unanswerable, just like Bella, the Lestrange brothers, and Barty. Voldemort even asked him his opinions on certain things, went to him for his council because if it was one thing he was good at, then it was politics and somehow getting his own way.
After that, Voldemort began spreading propaganda about Dumbledore and his ridiculous order of the Phoenix. They were labelled a terrorist group, and people would be given hefty rewards if they turned them in.
Voldemort had made sure the ministry put effort into the cleanup of the county and the re-building of Hogwarts. Voldemort had publicly spoken and sent the Carrows to Azkaban as punishment for their treatment of the students, assuring the public that he did not stand for the mistreatment of children.
Of course, he had removed them from Azkaban without the public's knowledge after a few weeks and ordered them to lay low and out of the public eye.
He had given a long speech and stood next to the Minister and Lucius, talking about a new dawn that was upon them. How he would restore Britain to its former glory, and he too was tired of fighting, but he would do whatever was necessary to those who attempted to disrupt the newly found peace. He told them that as long as they followed the rules, death and destruction could be avoided.
People were tired of living in fear, so they were willing to follow the new regime and what came with it, but they all wanted to know what had happened to Potter, who had been missing for almost a year. This was what Lord Voldemort needed him for.
He needed Potter to announce his loyalty, and what better way than to announce an impending marriage and perhaps an impending child?
If their saviour seemed like he was loyal to Voldemort and that he loved him, it would completely squash the resistance.
Lord Voldemort was a lot of things, but he was not a rapist; he would never lower himself into doing such a thing, so he needed Potter willing.
~
"Where have you been?" Harry demanded, but his voice shook, his eyes wet.
"I've been busy."
"It's been six days! Please, I've been good. I haven't tried to escape-"
"-You can't, I never leave you with legs."
Harry frowned, looking up at Voldemort, who loomed over him.
"Can I have them back, please? And permanently? So I can prove to you that I'm good, and I'll listen. I won't try to escape again. Please," Harry begged.
Voldemort was quiet, his red eyes thoughtful.
"I am merciful, and I reward good behaviour so you may."
Just like that, Harry's limbs grew back, and he couldn't stop the sob of relief.
~
"You're back," Harry breathed, relief and joy etched into his tone as he stumbled out of the bed and to the door to greet Voldemort.
He had been gone for almost three weeks, leaving Harry isolated in his room, with only Nagini to occasionally keep him company.
He had missed Voldemort.
He missed his presence, he missed human company. He felt like he had been doing crazy in his room.
Voldemort would sometimes sit with Harry, letting him know what was going on in the outside world or sharing a story about his life.
Harry latched on to the stories and the tidbits that were shared with him, grateful and hungry for human contact.
~
"Have you missed me, pet?" Voldemort asked as he waved his hand and fashioned a chair from one of the pillows.
"Always," Harry breathed, his hands itching to reach out and touch the dark lord.
"Come."
Harry stumbled over to him, his steps hurried as he quickly sat in his lap and curled up.
Harry looked forward to the times when Voldemort would allow him to get close to him, to touch him and feel his warmth.
He needed it.
It felt so good to be touched gently.
It was perfect, and he knew Voldemort enjoyed it too.
He would close his eyes, his nose in Harry's hair, as he stroked his face and arms, holding him close.
It made Harry smile.
Voldemort needed him.
He was useful to Voldemort, he felt good for him, and that's what he held onto when Voldemort would disappear.
He had to come back because he liked holding Harry.
That's what he would whisper to himself as he struggled to fall asleep, frightened and lonely.
~
"You've been such a good boy, so very well behaved." Voldemort murmured, cupping Harry's face softly as if he were important.
Harry nodded, his eyes wide.
"Would you like a reward?"
"Yes, please," Harry whispered, his own hands coming up to cover Voldemort's.
He wanted him to hold his face tighter because it meant this was real and Harry wasn't hallucinating. Voldemort was really with him.
"I will let you leave your rooms."
"No!" Harry exclaimed, panic and fear clouding his mind.
He didn't understand what he had done wrong, why was Voldemort trying to get rid of him? He had been good.
He had listened.
Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"I've been good! I don't want to leave. I don't want you to leave me, please. I want us to stay together, bad things happen when you're not with me. When I'm around others. Please don't make me." Harry begged, sobs wracking through his body as he began to shake.
Harry couldn't be trusted, he was bad.
Dangerous.
The last time he was out of this room, he had encouraged others to try and escape and had gotten Professor McGonagall killed.
The blood after her head was decapitated from her body still haunted him; he woke up screaming and shouting most nights as the image refused to leave his mind. He was bad. He could not be around others because when he was bad things happened.
He was like a cancer, insidious as he hurt those closest to him.
"Do not worry, I will be with you. We shall walk around the gardens together. I will not leave you. I know what is best, and I would never make you do anything you shouldn't, would I?"
Harry immediately shook his head. "No. You know what's best."
"Good boy."
~
They began to go on weekly walks, Nagini following them as Harry desperately clung to Voldemort's hand, his body unnecessarily close to his.
~
"I don't want to go on a walk today," Harry murmured, his face burrowed in Voldemort's neck.
Voldemort had just spent the last thirty minutes telling Harry about the time he spent four weeks in Romania and how and why he was still wanted in the country.
Harry enjoyed hearing the stories.
Voldemort was well travelled, he had seen and done so much. It made Harry feel completely inadequate and unworthy to be around him.
It made Harry desperate to impress him so he wouldn’t get bored and kept visiting.
"Why not?" Voldemort asked, amusement in his tone.
Harry smiled; he liked when he was able to pull emotion out of him.
"I don't like bumping into other people. I like when it's us," Harry confessed, wiggling so he was even closer.
"Why?"
"It's better when it's just us. I don't like when your attention is on others," Harry confessed, his tone cautious.
Voldemort gently untangled Harry from him, his red eyes piercing. "And how exactly do you plan on keeping my attention, my little soul?"
Voldemort often called Harry his little soul, although Harry wasn't sure why.
Voldemort's eyes shifted down to Harry's lips, and Harry felt himself flush.
This Voldemort looked so much like the younger version Harry had met when he was twelve.
There were still some differences, but Harry couldn't forget the big crush he had on diary Tom. He had thought he was gorgeous, he looked like a movie star.
Much to Harry's chagrin, that Tom had featured one too many times in Harry's dreams.
Harry swallowed, his heart pounding.
He knew he wasn't special, he knew he was nothing compared to Voldemort.
He wasn't handsome, smart, or powerful, but still Voldemort came to visit him.
He allowed Harry to be close to him, to cuddle him.
It had to mean something.
Taking some of Gryffindor's courage, Harry took a shaky breath before closing his eyes and softly bringing his lips to Voldemort's.
~
It had been two months since Harry and Voldemort shared their first kiss, and now they would kiss every time Voldemort entered the room and when he would finally leave Harry for the day.
~
"You're so needy, aren't you my little soul?" Voldemort murmured as Harry let out a gasp, squirming in Voldemort's lap as the dark Lord kissed his neck.
Harry felt himself tremble, biting down on his lip as he shifted and felt Voldemort underneath him.
He was hard.
"Please," Harry whispered, his hands clutching Voldemort's shoulders.
Cold hands cupped Harry's face, and he eagerly shifted closer as their lips met.
Voldemort kissed with wild, unbidden passion, and it was perfect. It was all consuming and passionate, making currents of pleasure run through Harry.
"On your knees. Serve your master, show me why I should reward you, and keep your friends safe. Show me how grateful you are for my kindness and mercy," Voldemort commanded, his tone dark and husky.
Harry's cock was so hard, it hurt .
He dropped to his knees, his hands anxious to see Voldemort's cock that he thought about so much.
It was only about two inches bigger than Harry's, but it was girthy, filling up his mouth perfectly. It was obscene the way Harry's mouth spread around the member.
Harry licked the tip, his eyes closing in pleasure as Voldemorts pre-cum hit his tongue.
Voldemort gripped the back of his head, his hips snapping forward in a brutal pace as Harry kneeled there, taking it and moaning.
"Yes, good boy. Take it. This is where you belong, on your knees and servicing your lord," Voldemort hissed, slipping into Parseltongue like he always did when they were intimate.
Harry's heart spread with warmth.
He loved having a secret language that only they understood, it made him feel speech.
"My Lord," Harry breathed, eyes wide and filled with pleasure as Voldemort spilt his seed all over Harry's face, a large clump getting tangled in his lashes.
~
"You will meet with Draco later today, get changed into these," Voldemort commanded, handing Harry expensive-looking dark green robes with a white shirt and black trousers.
Harry usually only wore clothes when they went on walks, otherwise, Voldemort kept him naked in the room.
Harry hadn't spoken to anyone who wasn’t Voldemort in sixteen months, and the thought made him anxious, fear clawed up his heart.
What if he did something wrong?
What if he got someone hurt?
"But why?" Harry asked, clenching his fists so his shaking hands weren’t as evident.
"I want to integrate you back into the public, so I thought we would start slow. Don't you want to make me happy?" Voldemort frowned, his eyes hurt.
"No! I do, of course I do!" Harry blurted out, panicking.
"Good. Then you will meet with Draco for tea. It will be good for you to talk to others, and I won't be far away as I'll be with Lucius. You're important to me, we should not have to keep our... relationship a secret."
~
Draco looked really uncomfortable and scared as Harry was brought into the large dining room.
He stood next to his expressionless father, who looked like the pinnacle of high society with his perfectly groomed hair and black cane.
"Lucius, thank you for joining us and bringing Draco. I thought Draco could have breakfast with Harry for about thirty minutes while we discuss business in your office," Voldemort said, his tone colder than Harry was used to hearing.
"Of course, my Lord," Lucius gave his head a quick bow.
Voldemort turned to Harry, his red eyes serious. "Be good. Nagini will be here if you need anything."
Even Harry could read between those lines.
Nagini would be watching to see if Harry would behave.
But of course he would.
Making Voldemort happy was the most important thing to him.
~
By the third time Harry had to meet up, it wasn't as painful, but it was still somewhat awkward.
Harry didn't like being away from Voldemort, so he was always anxious for their little meetups to end, his replies stifled as he watched the clock.
Draco seemed uneasy, on edge, and almost confused as he watched Harry most of the time.
Although, now, they would talk for a little longer.
~
"What became of Hogwarts?" Harry asked on the fifth meetup, unable to stifle his curiosity as the last time he had seen the castle (which was two years ago now), it had been almost destroyed.
"The school’s up and running now. The dark Lord ensured a lot of money was donated to the clean-up, and it's as good as new. He even opens the opening feast at the start of the year now with a speech. Much better than the nonsense Dumbledore used to sprout," Draco replied, his nose scrunched in distaste.
Harry's heart clenched.
Dumbledore.
The last time Harry had seen him, he had been killed by Snape.
Harry's gut lurched, guilt about forgetting his Professor making him feel awful.
But Dumbledore was Voldemort's enemy and Harry was supposed to be loyal to Voldemort.
Draco offered to tell him about all the new initiatives that Voldemort had in place. The outside world wasn't some scary warzone; it was better and safe for now. Voldemort was doing good work.
He had been misunderstood and driven crazy after spending time as a wraith.
Voldemort often told him of the propaganda that was spread about him and the unfair lies used to discredit him.
But Voldemort hadn't tried to kill Harry at all during these two years, so he has clearly changed.
~
On Harry's birthday, Voldemort moved him out of his bedroom and to a brand new house. Voldemort had even called it 'ours'.
Harry had free rein to walk around their new manor; he just wasn't allowed outside unless Voldemort was there.
As they spent their first night together, Harry cuddled in his arms, he realised how much he loves Voldemort.
~~~~
"I want us to be intimate," Harry said, his words coming out louder and more awkward than he intended.
Voldemort raised an eyebrow from where he was sitting behind his desk.
"No, I mean more intimate. I know we kiss and I, uh, erm.. use my mouth on you and you use your hand on me, but I want more. Please. I would like us to do everything," Harry blurted out, his face beet red.
~
They have sex two days later.
Harry gasps as Voldemort enters a third finger, his hole greedily gripping them.
"More! Please, " Harry begged, panting.
"You're hungry, aren't you my little soul? You need to be filled up, hmmm?" Voldemort teased, his smirk making him even more handsome.
"Always," Harry hissed, slipping into parseltongue.
Voldemort replaces his fingers with his cock, and Harry sees stars.
He begs, pants, pleads, and mewls, pleasure bursting through him..
Voldemort's pace is punishing, his cock hitting the spot inside of him that makes him arch up in the air, crying out.
"What do you say?" Voldemort demanded, his own breath coming out heavier.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Harry babbled, his face buried in the pillow as he fucked back.
"Thank you, who?"
"My Lord! Thank you, My Lord!" Harry screeched before coming completely untouched.
~
"What do you think of Draco's spawn?" Voldemort asked Harry.
They were sitting in their library, Voldemort reading one of his large books that seemed dipped in dark magic as Harry lay on the sofa, playing with the snitch, wanting to be close to Voldemort.
"His spawn?" Harry asked, unable to keep the smile off his face.
Voldemort gave Harry an amused glare. " Child. "
"Scorpius is adorable. I like holding him," Harry replied with a shrug.
"Don't shrug, it's plebeian." Voldemort looked thoughtful as he looked at Harry. "Do you not want a family?"
At the word family, Harry sat up, suddenly feeling an oncoming headache. The Weasleys and Hermione had always been his family.
"I-I have a family. Ron, Hermione, the Weas-"
"-Your family for the first year has done everything in their power to collapse my empire, to destroy me, and still I let them live. I let them live because of my feelings for you; is that not enough? Do you want to see me fall? Would you like that? If they got rid of me?" Voldemort interrupted, quiet fury marking its way on his features.
Harry felt flustered and confused.
Of course he didn't want anything bad to happen to Voldemort, Harry loved him! But they were his family, weren't they?
Harry loved them too, right?
"Of course I don't want that, I love you," Harry whispered, red-faced and avoiding Voldemort's eyes.
He never said it back, ever.
" Well then, we should have a family of our own. Have a child," Voldemort announced.
"A child? I'm a boy? How-"
"- We're Wizards, Harry. There are potions for those sorts of things. Wouldn't you like that? To have something that is half of me and you? Something to truly call your own? You won't be bored and by yourself anymore when I have to be away. You'd have something to occupy you, and we'd always be connected. We'd have to be in each other's lives forever."
Harry would like that.
It would be a guarantee that Voldemort would always come back to him. He couldn't leave then. Harry would have his child.
It all sounded appealing.
Harry couldn't imagine anything better, and he would have his own real family then. A biological family who loved him, who didn't see him like a burden like the Dursley's had.
"Yes, I-please. I want us to have a child," Harry grinned, joyful.
~
Harry was pregnant three weeks later.
~
"You're pregnant?" Draco echoed, apprehension in his tone as he looked at Harry's face and slightly rounded stomach.
Male pregnancies were a lot more delicate than female ones, especially the first three months, so Voldemort had been incredibly protective and had not let Harry leave the house.
But now that Harry was four months, he had been allowed to invite Draco, Astoria, and Scorpius round to their house.
"Yes," Harry nodded, a soft smile on his face as he stroked his stomach.
"A-and the dark Lord is the father?" Draco whispered, paling.
Harry frowned.
"Of course. Who else would it be?" Harry demanded.
Sure, he had never mentioned the nature of his relationship with Voldemort to anyone, but he assumed it had been obvious.
Harry had been Voldemort’s for almost two and a half years!
Why else did Draco think he was at the manor or around Voldemort?
"Oh Harry"
Astoria looked sad and Harry didn't understand why .
~
When Voldemort proposed to Harry, Harry felt true, bone-deep happiness as he burst into tears of joy, choking out a yes.
Surely this was confirmation that Voldemort loved him.
~
"I want us to be married before the child arrives, but I'm an important man, which means I would be obligated to invite ministers of the world and the important European wizarding families," Voldemort said after Harry's six month checkup.
The baby seemed unbelievably magically strong already; Harry was exhausted, his own magic drained.
"What?" Harry rubbed his eyes. "I thought we would have a small ceremony."
"I'd like to, but I am the ruler of a country. It's not practical, but I don't want it to be a shock to anyone, so Lucuius has come up with a plan to ease the public into it. We'll do a press conference, and you'll swear your love and loyalty to me as I show off my soon-to-be husband and how happy we are. Then you'll make a few more public appearances at some events with me so people can get used to it, and then in the next month or so we'll have a big wedding. Won't it be nice to have me show you off?"
~
Harry's announcement of love and loyalty had been a media frenzy. People had been completely flabbergasted to see a heavily pregnant Harry Potter holding hands with Voldemort.
The whole thing made Harry anxious, and he never dared stray from Voldemort's side.
He didn't like being gawked at; he didn't like the accusatory look on some people's faces.
It was overwhelming.
But Voldemort held his hand throughout the whole thing, his large frame always close by protectively and possessively.
He was clearly proud to show Harry off, to show their love off, the smirk never leaving his handsome face.
~
Two weeks later, Voldemort said his vows and, in front of three hundred witnesses, swore his love to Harry.
~
One week before his due date, Harry gave birth to a baby boy who was the spitting image of Voldemort other than Harry's bright green eyes.
They called him Marvolo James Potter.
Voldemort had no last name, or at least that's what he said anyway.
Even after their marriage, Harry's last name hasn't changed, and Voldemort, who still goes by The Dark Lord, obviously didn't need a last name.
But their child had the name Marvalo, an obvious connection to the baby's father and great-grandfather.
As Harry watched Voldemort pick up Marvalo, Harry's eyes teared up.
He was happy, and he was loved.
He has finally gotten his happily ever after.
~
In just three years, Voldemort had accomplished everything he said he would. He was neither surprised nor proud of that because it was expected. Anything he put his mind to would always happen.
He was the greatest wizard to ever exist.
He had Potter wrapped around his finger. The boy couldn't even be in public spaces without being ridiculously close to Voldemort, clingy and anxious.
It was laughable that this was the boy who lived, the person who was meant to be his equal.
If it wasn't so common, Voldemort would roll his eyes.
Surprisingly, Potter wasn't as annoying and tiresome as Voldemort assumed he would be. He even amused him at times. He was like a pet.
Still, Voldemort never spent more than three days in a row with him, in case he did something to irritate him and he ended up cursing the boy.
Their public marriage had gone down just as Voldemort expected it to; any small resistance that had been left had officially been squashed. Their saviour was married and had a child for Voldemort. He was undefeated.
As the years went by, Voldemort even granted Harry more freedoms.
He was allowed in the garden without Voldemort. He was free to visit Draco and his wife. He even allowed him his wand back.
Lord Voldemort was merciful after all.
Mudbloods were no longer allowed in Hogwarts; Voldemort had opened a separate school for them, and every newly born child had to register with the ministry.
Jobs were allowed to discriminate against mudbloods, and the ministry was cleansed of them completely.
Other than that, Voldemort left anything else political to Lucius and Rodolphus. Voldemort had set his sights on other European countries.
He had formed an alliance with Russia, backed by the best dark wizards (who were still so incredibly below him even on their best days), who had helped give him an army, and he had taken over Germany and France with relative ease.
He had set up governments there too, imposing his law on them, and he was thinking of expanding to Poland and Albania within the next few months.
Voldemort, of course, trusted no one, but his child was a close thing.
He had all of Voldemort's best qualities.
He was incredibly smart, charming, and magically potent. He was doing magic far beyond his years. He was also manipulative, like Voldemort, a liar and a thief too.
He, just like his father, thought everything belonged to him.
But unlike Voldemort, Marvolo suffered from a weakness.
He loved.
He loved Voldemort, always desperate to impress him and please him, which meant he would never try to overthrow him or kill him (like Voldemort did to his own father). He wanted his father's love and pride, which Voldemort purposely kept at a distance to ensure that Marvalo would always strive to appease and please him.
Moreover, Marvalo loved and adored Harry.
He squashed the worst of his instincts because he didn't want to upset Harry. Harry was open with his love and affection, but he coddled the boy, always hugging and kissing him.
Harry also didn't like violence, so Marvolo tried to avoid it because he didn't want to make Harry sad or upset.
It was pathetic, but Voldemort allowed it as it made him more mouldable.
"Are you going to tell dad? I didn't mean to," Marvalo asked, eyes downcast, his demeanour small and sad as he stood in front of Voldemort.
"Do not lie to me, boy. You cannot manipulate me like you do Harry. You did mean too," Voldemort smirked, looming over his son.
Marvolo had cursed another child with a cutting curse. The jinx was mildly dark, but with his natural magic abilities, the child could have been seriously injured. Potentially needing an amputation on their arm.
Marvolo looked up, and Voldemort found it jarring. He felt like he was looking at a younger him. From the features to the height and to the fiery anger in his eyes.
It was like looking at Tom Riddle, and Voldemort resisted the urge to mar his son's face.
"Fine, I'm not sorry, but the filthy mudblood called you evil!" Marvolo exclaimed, fury on his young face.
"I am evil," Voldemort frowned, confused.
Now it was Marvolo's turn to frown.
"No, you're not. You're good. You're the best person in the world. Equal only to dad," the boy insisted, conviction in his voice.
No one had ever called Voldemort good before.
It felt... strange. Different.
It made his heart clench.
He didn't like it.
Voldemort's life wasn't what he thought it would be, but he was pleased with it, and he wasn't sure if he would change it, even if he could.
He was powerful; he would eventually rule Europe and had an heir whom he would one day make immortal the way he and Harry (who was still unaware) were.
He has everything he wanted, all thanks to Harry's loyalty.
~
Link to the page of the artist who created the wonderful art this fic is based on!
They're making more art for this story as they enjoyed it so much so watch out for that in chapter two ☺️.