Contract
“I left everything for this, I left it all…for you!” Harry hissed, stepping around the desk, to confront Voldemort. The man was sitting comfortably on his chair, seemingly relaxed but his eyes told a different story. "You lied to me, you promised me that you would stop."
Harry could not repress his scowl when Voldemort failed to respond. The only indication that he had noticed Harry's words at all the subtle raise of his brow and the warm emotion that flashed behind his eyes. The emotion flashed too quickly for Harry to discern--but it was more than enough for Harry to know the man was listening.
Good.
"You think that enslaving muggles will change anything? That taking their children away will somehow fix the inherent issues in the Britain?" Harry continued, growing more and more incensed when Voldemort turned his gaze away from him and focused on the papers on his desk.
Harry was more than tempted to slam his hand on the desk and scatter the parchment--to fling everything from the small statue of the Basilik on the desk to the ink well right by Voldemort's right arm to the ground. But Harry took a deep breath instead, knowing that acting like a child would not get him what he wanted.
"This is about as bloody stupid as Dumbledore's plan to sacrifice me, you know." Harry said casually, repressing a smirk when Voldemort stiffened, and snapped his gaze back to his.
If looks could kill, Harry was sure he would be dead three times over. But Harry was not afraid of this--the man would do nothing. Not when Harry was a precious Horcrux. The man was forced to listen and was forced to deal with his antics.
Even if it seemed more often than not that Harry lacked control in this relationship.
"I fail to see how speaking that filth's name is going to endear me to your ridiculous idea, Harry." Voldemort stated then, the heat in his eyes enough to make flowers wilt under the intensity. But Harry was no flower, and he met Voldemort's glare with one of his own.
"Well, I wouldn't be saying his name if someone would sodding listen to me." Harry shot back, snapping his hand on Voldemort's wrist when the man made to reach for his wand tucked comfortably in his robes. "Honestly, I am not asking for much. Just stop enslaving the muggles and at least, allow some of the kinder ones to visit their children."
Harry tried to reason, but gauging from the stubborn set on Voldemort's jaw, the man was not having any of that.
"You are overstepping your authorit--"
"No, I am not some useless pawn you can order around. I have just as much say on how we run this empire as you do." Harry leaned forward, closing the short space between their faces, to press their foreheads together.
The small contact was enough to shoot heat up Harry's spine, but Harry ignored it in favor of staring deeply into Voldemort's eyes. Noting the way Voldemort cycled through several different emotions before settling on anger--his hand suddenly snatching roughly at Harry's dark hair.
Harry hissed, his breath fanning across Voldemort's lips, but he otherwise did not resist. If Harry fought back, Voldemort would take that as indication to take his fill. The start of a game that Harry and Voldemort often played with many stakes. Voldemort thrilled when Harry was particularly mouthy, his sadism peaking through the red of his eyes when Harry simply said the wrong thing at the right time.
So he held himself back, allowing Voldemort's fingers to tear some of the hair from his head when he suddenly clenched his grip.
"Oh?" Voldemort questioned, his eyes bright with intrigue as he stared unflinchingly into Harry's eyes. "Are you now?"
Voldemort's lips curved into a smirk, the pressure on Harry's hair drawing a soft cry from his lips that he failed to repress.
Bastard.
"I am a part of your soul." Harry seethed, gasping when Voldemort suddenly licked his bottom lip--Voldemort's forked tongue tracing so gently on the skin that Harry did not know how to react. Sadism he understood--violence predictable when in the man's presence. Harry had learned the art, and even appreciated it when employed the proper way.
But gentleness?
Harry was floored, but he did not let it derail him. Speaking through the ticklish sensation of Voldemort's tongue licking at his skin.
"I know you better than anyone else. I sacrificed it all for you." Harry continued, shuddering when Voldemort took his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes still trained intently on Harry's own green eyes, before releasing the flesh.
"You promised that you would take a more...relaxed route to power. That you would not sacrifice the lives of too many for control, but y--"
Harry groaned when Voldemort kissed him, his lips soft and gentle over his own. Voldemort tasted like coffee--bitter and sweet on Harry's tongue. He couldn't help but open his mouth at the expert way Voldemort pressed his lips against his own--thrown once more by just how bloody gentle the man was being--to then break the kiss. Cutting it short before the strangely delicate press could grow into something more heated.
Harry whined at the loss, his lips cold now without the pleasant warmth of Voldemort's mouth on his.
He hated how much of an affect the man had on him--their bond stupidly strong and unbreakable. One not created from love, but out of convenience. A marriage that all of the Wizarding world had hoped would temper the violence of Voldemort's bid for power.
Though, thinking back, Harry wondered just whose brilliant idea this even was. The plan had been markedly successful, but it still pained Harry to know that he had given so much up just to ensure that this plan worked.
"Hush, my soul." Voldemort purred in parseltongue, his grip on Harry's head tightening once more. "Don't you trust my judgment?" Voldemort asked, and before Harry could retort and tell him that in fact he did not trust him, Voldemort slipped his fingers over his clothed thigh--the heat of it enough to silence all his thoughts in that moment.
"I understand your...concerns." Voldemort stated while kneading Harry's thigh, the gesture spreading heat all the way from the tip of Harry's toes to the top of his head. "I will consider them, but first..."
Harry forgot entirely what he was even upset about in the first place, Voldemort’s unspoken promise and touch overtaking him.