is it complicated ... when someone wants you so much they kidnap you and your friends? (yeah, it's complicated)

is it complicated ... when someone wants you so much they kidnap you and your friends? (yeah, it's complicated)

Chapter 6

Tell me I'm so cruel,

I'm giving up on you,

Chance after chance,

In and out of romance,

You pulled on this heart,

Too many times,

Try reelin’ baby,

I cut the line.

Love Shouldn’t Be A Fight, Kristen Cruz.

Previously on is it complicated ... when someone wants you so much they kidnap you and your friends? (yeah, it's complicated):

“Fuck, did I really just slap Fenrir Greyback in the face?” Remus whispered as they head towards the kitchens. One of the guards started choking and another gasp. The last just snickered, he thinks that was Flint, his own guard, knowing of Remus’s temper. It doesn’t make him feel any better. “And I didn’t fucking die?”

“He has a soft spot for you.” James soothed. “You won’t die.”

“We won’t let him kill you.” Sirius pronounced, patting him on the back. They enter through the doors of the kitchen, the duo greeting the house elves. The guards come inside after James waves them inside. Remus collapsed onto the floor when the others sat, burying his face in his hands, seeing James place his books and notes onto the space next to him. His shoulders relax a little.

At least he didn’t have a reason to go back into that fucking dining room once more.

As the others talked around him, Remus eventually coming out of his haze of dread and unconcealing his face, he grabbed a fork and started slowly eating the big slice of chocolate cake James slid over to him. The others were chatting softly but there was one thought on Remus’s mind that refused to leave.

I just slapped Fenrir Greyback (was it worth it? Probably. Was it a good idea? Not at all. Did it feel fucking good to do? Hell yes. Was he going to die? Most likely).

I’m fucking screwed.

Inside, Moony growled in agreement.

James walked down the long hallways of Slytherin Manor with a blank look on his face. Unlike others, if they had a blank face, it would be because they weren’t thinking of anything in particular, but most of the Potter’s having blank faces meant that they were lost in thought. Fleamont had told his son countless times to not get lost in his head as he’d had many instances in his youth of people getting intimidated by him on first meetings due to his father’s daydreaming.

A short sigh left his lips as he turned the corner, walking towards the dining room for lunch. He could hear the guard behind him mumbling something to himself but he could scarcely hear the words and wasn’t that interested in what he had to say. Unlike what Moony’s and Padfoot’s guards were like, James guard wasn’t a chattering kind of guy. He hadn’t liked idle chatter and had a no nonsense attitude.

Kind of stupid considering who he was guarding and watching after. Compared to the other two, James had enough mischief inside of him to cause an earthquake.

He entered the dining room, not even glancing behind him when he heard the guard huff and then a thump which meant that Ryan Greengrass had just collapsed grumpily onto the wall to lean against. There was a snicker from Moony’s guard, Flint and then a teasing comment that was cut off as the door closed shut.

James cast a glance over the people sitting down. His lips thinned when he caught sight of Bellatrix and Narcissa sitting side by side. Bellatrix’s glare was settled firmly on Sirius but the male was ignoring her. There was a faint smirk on Sirius’s lips and James knew that the male was purposefully winding her up to see how she would react.

He was probably hoping that if Bellatrix had her buttons pushed so far then she’d do something so drastic Voldemort would kick her from the Manor. And then he wouldn’t see her again.

A plus for sure.

Rabastan was looking between the cousins with a faint smirk on his face as if he too found the situation amusing. Remus was glaring down at his plate, stabbing at his food. That, James reasoned, was probably because Fenrir was staring at him with a smug look that should’ve made him look arrogant but just made him hot.

Sue James, he had a thing for hot guys who knew how to use what they had. And Fenrir used it well.

Just like Voldemort.

James sat down, casting an almost unnoticeable look towards the head of the table where Voldemort was sitting. Voldemort wasn’t paying any attention to what was going on his front of him. He was merely just sipping from a cup of tea.

“Ah, itty bitty Potter.” Bellatrix cooed when she noticed him. James saw that the Slytherin’s who had came and visited tensed momentarily before relaxing as if they couldn’t help the reaction. He knew that Bellatrix had had a reputation in Slytherin and that when she was in her sixth year, most of the people crowded in the dining hall had been first or second years and then second and thirds year when the woman had been in her last year.

Bellatrix had the reputation of being cruel even then, testing hexes and jinxes on the younger students, particularly little firsties. She’d tried it on Remus way back when but even then, Sirius and James had been formidable fighters and had battled her fiercely for their first friends defence.

Safe to say, Bellatrix did not bother them again but her glares were so fiery, they could’ve set them on fire if she’d had the will and power. James and Sirius had only gotten better with time.

James supposed that Bellatrix would’ve been even worse in the Slytherin dorms. She wouldn’t have worried about using darker curses when she could and since she was close to Walburga, the curses only got blacker and blacker, crueller and crueller just for the sake of it. And since Slughorn was a lousy Professor and an even lousier Head of House, Bellatrix wouldn’t have been punished and proceeded to go unchecked.

Godric, those Slytherin’s needed therapy.

“Ah, Bella, it is good to see you.” James replied, wandlessly and wordlessly summoning a mug and then with another flick of his wrist, it filled with coffee. He levelled a stare at Bellatrix, seeing her cheeks flush with anger at the display of magic. “I believe you’ve taken my message last time we met seriously? I’d hate for you to have not and get into a sticky situation.” His voice was fake sympathetic.

Bellatrix’s teeth let out a sound that made Remus wince, rubbing at them. James reached into his pocket when he saw Remus rubbing at the bridge of his nose, then his temples and finally his forehead, sliding a potion over to the male. Moony sent him a grateful look.

“Why are you here, Potter?” She spat.

“Your Lord invited me, Siri and Remy personally.” James took a sip of coffee to hide his smirk. “Why don’t you ask him if you’re so interested, dear Bella? Since you are questioning his decisions after all—”

“My Lord, I would never!” Bellatrix cried, turning to the male. Voldemort levelled a stare at Bellatrix that had her flinching back. James had to admit that was hot. Curse his libido. He shifted a little, pants feeling a little tight, ignoring Remus cough into his hand to hide him laugh. Fenrir was smirking at him. James scowled.

“It seems you are, Bellatrix.” Voldemort said smoothly. Bellatrix opened her mouth to either refute this claim or beg for his forgiveness or something of the like but Voldemort dismissed it. “And James,” James shuddered at his name falling from those lips, his name seemingly purred out, “is here as I intend to court him.”

Several of the younger Slytherin’s utensils fell to their plates. They hastily picked them up, murmuring apologies. Narcissa’s eyes widened before a glare went to James, who smiled sharply back at her. Bellatrix’s mouth dropped open.

“My Lord—the—he’s a bloodtraitor!” Bellatrix protested. “And he cannot give you an heir! Surely a pure blooded witch would be better suited? Someone that’s formidable on the battlefield, who can fight for your cause—?”

James cut her off with a wry laugh. “Someone like you, dear Bella?” James laughed once more. “You do remember how we first met, correct, dear Bella? You, a sixth year, couldn’t beat two little firsties when you came after Remus. Sirius and I beat you quite quickly in fact. That,” he drawled, “does not sound like a formidable fighter. How can you claim to fight so wonderfully for your Lord’s cause if you cannot even beat two first years?”

Bellatrix’s face went red. Voldemort’s eyebrows rose slowly.

“Is this true, Bellatrix?” Voldemort asked dangerously.

“My—my Lord, I—”

“Answer the question, Miss Black.”

Bellatrix glared at James and then a grinning Sirius before pursing her lips into a thin white line. Narcissa glowered at both of them in her sisters absence. “Yes, my Lord.” Voldemort hummed at the agreement.

“Perhaps we should think about taking you off the front lines then, Miss Black.” Voldemort said. Bellatrix gritted her teeth and ducked her head, picking up her fork and eating silently. The younger Slytherin’s looked towards James who had a satisfied smirk on his face and a menacing look in his eyes that promised darker revenge in store for Bellatrix than just getting her kicked off of the revered first lines of the Death Eaters.

Voldemort then slid his gaze from where he was looking at Bellatrix onto James, who met his crimson gaze unflinchingly. Voldemort’s eyebrow rose in an arch. James gave him a sweet smile and then took a sip of his coffee, his eyes going half-lidded as he stared through his eyelashes at the Voldemort. Voldemort’s lips twitched and then he looked away.

Sirius nudged James in the side. James hissed as his coffee spilled, hearing Sirius whispering an apology. He waved it away, glancing up when there’s a whoosh, seeing a handkerchief in front of him. He reached for it, sending a glance to Voldemort who was staring right at him with an intense look on his face. James grabbed onto the fabric, patting himself down and wiping his mouth and chin where some of the coffee had spilt.

He pulled it away from his skin and peered at the edge where green initials were stitched onto the fabric.

“M.S. What does that stand for?” James asked.

“I shall tell you later in the evening if you’re still curious.” Voldemort said, a smirk on his face. “After all, only you and a select few will be allowed to call me by name.” Voldemort said, peering at James. James blinked for a long moment before he felt heat in his cheeks. Voldemort’s eyes went to the colour, seeming to be entranced. James ducked his head, hearing a disappointed sigh.

Sirius nudged him again, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. “He seems to want to know how far that flush goes, mate. He’s looking at your neck and chest.” Sirius said, cackling when James started to choke, happy that he hadn’t picked up his mug again and that it was still on the table in front of him.

“Are you alright, Jamie?” Remus asked, biting his lip to stop his own laughter. He’d likely heard what Sirius has said. James stopped coughing finally, hastily taking a gulp of coffee even when it kind of burned his throat, clearing his throat.

“Fine—I’m fine.” James rasped. Remus hummed, smirking. Fenrir is chuckling roughly, which immediately makes Remus stiffen, his lips going thin as an enraged look comes to his face. It seemed that Remus had gotten over his slight anxiety or smacking Fenrir earlier in the day and his anger had come back full force.

“So, when did you meet our Lord, Potter?” One of the Slytherin’s in James’ year asked. Mulciber if he remembered correctly which he didn’t. The male was a nameless face that blended into the background because he wasn’t that interesting to pay attention too.

“Well, we got kidnapped from Hogwarts by little Lestrange, Rosier, Crouch and our beloved Reggie,” James shot Regulus a bright grin that had Regulus huffing and rolling his eyes with a light flush on his cheeks, “because bigger Lestrange was a bit hasty when it comes to my bestie. Purely in love, not that either of us knew of course, but alas, we met in the throne room—”

“Throne room?” Avery choked.

“Yes—well, technically it’s a meeting room but there’s a throne in there so ... it’s a throne room in my mind.” James commented as though he couldn’t feel the incredulous looks on his head.

“Hmm, I like that. Lord Voldemort’s throne room.” Voldemort said.

James’s eyebrows rise. “Yeah, about that—what the hell kind of name is Voldemort? Flight from death, seriously? Bit on the nose, huh?” James teased, wanting to see what the male would do. If he couldn’t take teasing from James such as this then maybe he wasn’t one to accept a courting period because Godric knows James can be a hundred times worse when it came to other things that people would call childish. Because if he got angry or disapproving then there’d be no way that James would take up a relationship with him—hot or not.

“It may be on the nose as you say, dear one,” James’s breath hitched, Sirius spluttering next to him, “but yet it still revokes fear in certain people. Plus everyone needs an annogram for their leader name, yes?” Voldemort said in amusement, crimson eyes gleaming.

James swallows against his dry throat, feeling his face grow red. “Yes, well, I suppose so. I mean—don’t get me wrong—I like it!” James said hastily. “It’s just ... you really couldn’t have thought of a better name?” He knew his voice came out whiny but he didn’t care. Having to think of the fact he’d possibly be bonded to someone with the name Voldemort was a little too out there than he thought he’d ever have to deal. And the fact that their children (if they had any that is—and nope, James Potter, get your head out of there—you cannot imagine little dark-messy-haired children with crimson eyes) was just a knew brand of crazy for the leader of the marauders.

“If it makes you feel better, dear one,” James’s heart literally skipped a beat and he feared he was dying for a moment, “I was fifteen when I came up with it.”

“Okay, that makes me feel a little better, I admit.” James grumbled. Voldemort hummed, watching James start to eat. Chatter started up around them. James half-heartedly paid attention to Remus and Sirius conversing and waved them away when they stood, glancing to him in question.

After he was finished, patting his face down with a napkin, he looked up when a shadow fell over him. Voldemort held out an arm, an amused look on his face. “Would you do me the honour and accompany me for a walk? I believe I have a question to answer.” Voldemort said. James blinked and then nodded dumbly, standing up. He hesitated before linking his arm with Voldemort’s, hearing Bellatrix’s teeth grind together and the small gasps of the Slytherin’s before he was being lead outside into the hallway.

Voldemort gave a dismissive wave to James guard who paused, eyes widening at the sight of the Dark Lord with his arm linked with James as he was lead away. James stared at the side of the males face in thought.

“If you have a question, dear one, don’t be afraid to ask.” Voldemort said, smirking at him when James flushed.

“Don’t be mean.” James chided. Voldemort became even more amused at that. James’s flush went further when he realised that he was chiding the Dark Lord like he was a naughty child or one of his best friends when they were being a bit stupid. “So ... M.S, what does it mean?” James asked.

Voldemort looked ahead, frown on his face. At that, James stopped, causing Voldemort to pause, turning to look down at him. “You don’t have to tell you, you know. As you’ve said, you plan to court me. That means that if I accept, you’ll have an infinite amount of time to tell me. When you’re ready.” James said, smiling at Voldemort’s surprise. He tugged on the males arm softly and they resumed walking once more.

It was silent for a long moment and then Voldemort started to speak. “You have to know, dear one, that I am not a pureblood. I am an orphaned half-blood with a pureblood mother and a muggle father. My birth name is Tom Riddle Jr, named after my father, who’s father was Thomas Riddle.” Voldemort said softly. James glanced at him.

“That doesn’t matter to me, you know?” James said. Voldemort smiled at him.

“I know, dear one, you are one of the purebloods that don’t believe in pureblood superiority and yet still uphold the Olde Ways and their rituals and religion. You are truly a beauty amongst them.” James gaped at him, causing Voldemort to chuckle smoothly, his pale hand reaching up to nudge his mouth closed. James blushed harder and averted his eyes away as fast as he could.

“And yet,” Voldemort carried on into the silence, “my mother died giving birth to me. I was raised in a muggle orphanage, with harsh conditions and even harsher punishments and a cruel environment. Those that are weak in that place are the first to fall, I learned that the hard way. I grew, learning to use cunning to hide, to get what I needed, to protect myself. So when I got my letter to Hogwarts, when I walked up those steps and the sorting hat was placed on my head ...” He trailed off, glancing at James.

“You were sorted into Slytherin.” James said, squeezing the males arm with the hand not encased in the males grip. “I know. It’d be stupid of me to consider you for a house other than Slytherin—perhaps Ravenclaw but no one can claw their way up and build themselves an army or a mass amount of followers and not be a Slytherin. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.” James said, giggling at Voldemort’s astonished look.

“You really are one of a kind, dear one.” Voldemort said as they walked into what looked to be an office. Voldemort flicked a finger and the door closed and then clicked shut with a lock. James was lead to the sofa and they sat down, James peering at Voldemort with a curious look on his face.

“I was sorted into Slytherin and with a second name like Riddle, you could imagine that I wasn’t too accepted. I was back in the orphanage and using cunning to survive in the dorms. But I was in Hogwarts—I was home. And I clawed my way up slowly and by the start of my third year, I was King of Slytherin.” Voldemort sent a smirk James way when the male’s mouth fell open.

“King? At thirteen? Merlin and Morgana, can you ...?” James stopped, blushing.

“Can I what, dear one?” Voldemort asked, eyebrows arched.

“Can you release your magic, please?” Voldemort frowned but did as asked, seeing James jerk and draw in a gasp as he shuddered in pleasure. James’s eyes went around him and then Voldemort knew what was going on.

“You can see magic, can’t you? Can you feel my magic, dear one?” James whimpered, nodding. “How does it feel? Where can you feel it, dear one?”

“Everywhere.” James moaned. Voldemort blinked in surprise when James crawled into his lap, bearing his throat. “Feels so good, so good.”

“Hush, dear one.” Voldemort murmured, pulling his magic back. James whined in disappointment. “Just wait, dear one, let me explain the initials. Then you can know what name to scream to.” James gasped when Voldemort leaned down, breathing in his scent when his shoulder meet his neck, tugging back his baggy t-shirt until his whole right shoulder was bare.

“I was surrounded by peers that disliked me. Only Abraxas Malfoy and Corvus Lestrange were my allies, my distant friends.” Voldemort murmured. “And then I found out I was a Gaunt, that I was liable to the Slytherin Lordship. And I knew my second name. I knew it was Marvolo.” Voldemort’s words and explanation were a bit hurried as he fitted his teeth over James’s shoulder, the male shivering with arousal.

“Marvolo Slytherin.” James breathed.

“Yes, Marvolo is what only you and certain individuals may call me. That includes your friends.” He said. Lips trailed up to his throat and then James was groaning as Voldemort—Marvolo—sucked a hickey into his skin. James rolled his hips, feeling his cock swell. A warm tongue ran up his throat and then to his jaw. There was a nibble at a spot behind his ear and he groaned, trembling.

He never knew that the spot there was that sensitive.

James rolled his hips, feeling only hard plains of muscle beneath him that sent incredible sensations through his body. The friction was wonderful though he wished there was no fabric between them. Although he was not ready for taking it further (he was a virgin after all and it wasn't every day that someone was willing to take it and want to go further, want to bond with James), he was absolutely ready for whatever was going on between them now.

Marvolo groaned, throaty and deep. That had James shuddering, closing his eyes as it reverberated through him.

He yelped when he was suddenly moved. Marvolo had rolled them over on the sofa, so that James was flat on his back vertically with the Dark Lord hovering over him. He felt the breath hitch in his lungs as he stared into crimson eyes, feeling the heat and lust there. The air was heady with it. 

James's eyes were half lidded as they watched Marvolo grasp at the waistline of his trousers, sliding them and his boxers off in one fellow swoop. And then his legs were being guided over Marvolo's shoulders, the male shuffling down. James couldn't believe that the Dark Lord was placing sloppy, wet kisses onto his hip bones—he felt like he was dreaming. He couldn't believe the Dark Lord was between his fucking legs.

Looking ready to give him a bloody blow job.

His head tipped back when Marvolo's lips surrounded the head of his cock, tongue dipping into the slit over the head, tasting the pre come. James couldn't help the needy jerk of his hips (luckily it wasn't that deep and Marvolo seemed ready for it, holding his hips it one position), moaning. "Marvolo—oh, Marvolo, please." James whined.

He gasped, hands snapping to the males head, tangling in the black locks as Marvolo took his deeper, sucking harder. He felt like he was being encased in fire and ice, felt like he was being pulled and pushed in two different directions. He wanted—oh, how he wanted.

Marvolo bobbed his head up and down, causing James to whine, letting out needy little whimpers.

“That's it, dear one, you're doing so good—feeling so much, aren't you? You can let go, dear one, you can come.” Marvolo pulled off to say. James mewled, watching through almost-closed eyes as Marvolo took him into his mouth once more, to the root before sucking—and then James was coming, stars bursting behind his eyes.

He felt like he blacked out for a moment (and how embarrassing—his first blow job with probably the hottest man alive and he fucking blacks out). When he comes too, Marvolo is smirking as he slides up his body, eyes flickering to the Potter Heir's lips.

Just waiting.

James makes the decision for him, linking their lips together, grasping at Marvolo's shoulders and moaning at the taste of himself on Marvolo's tongue. When they pulled back, Marvolo was still smirking. He hated that it looked so goddamn good on the Dark Lord. “You were so gorgeous, dear one, so pretty for me. Looked so beautiful when you came—a pure vision.” Marvolo whispered.

James blushed, grinning shyly.

“Well, you were pretty damn good looking down there as well.” James said. Marvolo hummed.

“I'm glad you think so, pretty one.” The Potter Heir flushed bright red, stomach tingling pleasantly, warmly. “Though I had nothing on you.”

“That's enough.” James whined, batting at the males chest. He flicked his wrist, and the boxers slid up his legs even though Marvolo was in the way. The male pulled back to stare with a curious look and if James was seeing correctly, a pout. James smirked, filing this information away for later.

He was surprised when a yawn shaped his mouth, blinking.

“Go to sleep, dear one.” Marvolo murmured. James already found his eyes closing; his recent orgasm had taken a lot out of him it seemed. He turned on his side, humming when there were fingers through his hair—though that could've been imaginary for all he knew—falling into unconsciousness.

Marvolo watched James sleep for a long moment before he stood and went to his desk to get some paperwork done. Though he knew two things for sure after the first taste of the Potter Heir.

He wasn't inclined to stop at just one taste.

And he'd kill for James.

Even more terrifying (at least to the Dark Lord who had only ever really thought of himself, he was selfish like that), was that he'd die for James Potter as well.

What a scary thought indeed.