In 1991, Jormungandr was freed from his prison in the Muggle Zoo by the young boy-wizard. While he did not know the land from which he came from- Jormungandr did know his mother. The powerful and feared Nagini. It had been many years since he had last seen the she-snake who had laid his egg but where else did he have to go?
He hadn’t exactly expected to ever be freed so when he had, Nagini his mother was the first thing he had thought of.
Jormungandr, the son of Nagini was by no means a normal snake. He had some bits of magic within him. That being said, it took three years for the male snake to find his mother, and her master.
When he did finally reach the place where he was sure she was, based off scent, he accidently met the Master of his mother first.
Sliding over the shoes of the human, Jormungandr hoped to scare the young man. He hated all men- those who had stolen so much of his freedom. This one was different, something Jormungandr should have sensed immediately.
‘Be careful, little one.’
His first reaction was to hiss at the human, swishing away to try and hide within the tall grass. He had tracked his mother down to the north near Scotland. It was a large home, judging both by human and snake standards. It smelled old as well, tasting dusty and distinct.
It had been so long since he had heard another human speak their language. His human, as Jormungandr had begun to refer to him as, had been the only one he ever met who had done so.
Perhaps they knew one another? The snake may have lived most his life within captivity but he couldn’t imagine two parselmouths not knowing each other. It was a rare gift, that much he knew.
‘Apologies,’ Jormungandr began ‘Is Nagini with you, Parselmouth?’ Something about the young snake’s words was amusing to the male wizard.
The young male, though he smelled of an older age, reminded Jor of his human. The one who had freed him so long ago.
Dark hair curled around the man’s face, some of it pulled back behind him. Pale skin and eyes like the moon.
‘She is my mother.’ The male nodded, kneeling down for the young snake to wrap around his arm. Unlike other humans, this male was cold. How odd.
‘Are you her's?’
‘In a way, she is also mine. Nagini is my familiar. Do you know what that means?’
Jor gave a negative hiss in reply.
‘It is a special bond between a human wizard and an animal. It is not a pet; it is the most trustworthy of companions.’
‘Fascinating. Is it possible to have made this bond, without meaning to?’
This caught the male’s attention. He glanced downward at the snake slithering up his arm to around his neck.
“You would know, if you had.” The male replied, slipping back into one of the human’s languages. He stopped in front of a pair of double doors, two fires burned on either side of the door, giving off light.
Inside seemed to be a human’s sitting room, on the far end was a pair of loveseats, a table between them in front of a fire. Resting before it, curled up was his mother. The amazing, powerful boa Nagini. And apparently it was also this male’s familiar.
‘Nagini, someone is here to see you.’
Nagini raised her head, her tongue tasting the air. He couldn’t say directly but Jor knew she was happy.
‘Jormungandr!’
The male allowed Jor to slither off him, going directly to his mother. The two gently butted heads together, their tails curling around each other.
The male watched the two interact for a moment, sitting before them in one of the chairs. Jor couldn’t be sure but for some reason the young snake couldn’t help think that the male was lonely even with his mother’s company.
It reminded him even more of the other boy. That deep inner sadness which could be seen from the eyes.
‘Your wizard reminds me of the one who freed me, the other parselmouth.’ Jor said later, after the male had left.
His mother lazily raised her head, he could sense surprise on her.
‘Master is the only Parselmouth, my child.’
‘No, he is not Mother. The boy who freed me, he spoke to me in our language.’
She turned, her eye looking squarely into his, her tongue whisking out as she tried to assess the truth of the situation.
‘Are you certain?’
His head dipped forward, a kind of nod.
‘Then we must inform the master, at once.’
Nagini was right. The wizard, Voldemort as Jor was later told, was definitely interested in the parselmouth. He asked what Jor could remember of the boy.
‘Short, thinner than most other humans. He kind of looked like you. He had the same sort of inner scent.’
Voldemort froze, the description obviously reminding him of someone. ‘Did he have a scar on his forehead? This is very important, little one.’
‘Yes.’
Lord Voldemort, the heir of Slytherin and once called Tom Marvolo Riddle was not sure what to think. Probably for the first time in nearly half a century did he feel so much confusion. Harry Potter was a parselmouth, there was no way he could be. The Potter line did go back to Peverells, not to the Slytherins. His mother definitely had been a muggle-born, little to no chance of him gaining the ability through her.
The dark lord looked down at the firewhiskey he was nursing. He kept wondering how, how, how!
Potter, according to Jor was similar in core scent to the dark lord himself. There was no way, none at all. He sipped at the alcohol, blindly hoping it would somehow open his mind.
Either it did, or Lady Magic just pitied him for the moment.
Death. Voldemort had killed both James and Lily Potter, then tried to kill the infant Potter. Could it be possible?
Downing the rest of the glass, Voldemort felt his anger grow. Increasing by the moment as it became more and more clear to him.
Throwing the empty glass against a wall, the dark lord howled. He had no choice, no choice at all. If what he assumed was true, then he could never kill Harry Potter.
No, in fact he’d have to keep the bloody child safe!
‘Master?’ Nagini had slithered inside the room, leaving her sleeping son behind. ‘What’s wrong? I sensed your anger.’
‘It’s Potter, my friend. Then again,’ he gave a cold laugh ‘when isn’t it? Always, the Potter boy.’
Nagini was silent, sliding up the couch to approach the dark wizard. Her master would speak when he was ready, there was no need for her to edge him on.
‘I am beginning to think that Harry Potter could be a horcrux, accidentally created but one nonetheless.’
‘Then you must bring him here. Once, you said the boy had potential if he were not being manipulated?’
Her master was silent, it made the snake happy. This meant he was thinking, what she had said had given him an idea. Her friend would figure out what to do.
‘Nagini, my dear, smart as ever.’
She was right. Potter had power, even some of it coming from the muggle born mother who he had seen display her power before. Potter did have a part of his soul within him, meaning the dark lord had little to no choice in whether or not he took him.
He had to have Potter, of that there was no question. Potter was his, would be his.
What could he do? What should he do? Putting him in an eternal sleep was always an option, though it was boring. The boy always showed lip, always fought even when there was nothing to give him hope. That was interesting. The fight, which he rarely got anymore. Someone who stood up, even if what they believed in was unbelievably biased. Potter had potential, of that he was certain. Be it for dark, light or gray Voldemort could not say yet. Not until he was given proper time to study him.
Harry Potter could be magnificent, as he was the only other wizard who was his equal.
‘After all,’ Lord Voldemort thought, summoning his Death Eaters to belay his newest order ‘Every king needs a queen.’
----
“No Tom! I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this!”
Voldemort followed his consort, a grin on his face. His consort was close to breaking on this, he was certain.
“My dear,” Tom replied, following Harry into their shared quarters. They had shared a bed since Harry first began to live at his home. His proper home, after all.
Dropping down onto their bed, Harry turned so his back was to his partner.
Tom took this as a good sign, well bad at the moment good for his plans. Laying down next to his consort, the dark wizard placed an arm around Harry. Breathing in his pet’s clean scent, Tom couldn’t help but marvel at far they had come. At one point, Harry couldn’t even bare to be in the same room as the murderer of his parents. Now? Now the Lion preferred it.
“I don’t know how to be a parent, Tom. Neither of us do, and I don’t want to mess up some poor kid. Any kid.”
“Then doesn’t it seem to reason that we know enough of what not to do that we can make it work?”
Harry didn’t reply, just turned over so he could press his face against Tom’s neck. His hands clutched his partner’s outer robes. Their softness broke under his grip, not that either cared. Both had enough money to buy the world several times over.
“Would you let them choose their own fate? If they’re light, they’re light if they’re dark, then they’re dark. You won’t force anything upon them?”
The dark wizard could tell from Harry’s tone what he was thinking of. He thought of his past, when Dumbledore tried to make Harry into a savior. A mere child had the weight of the world placed upon him. It was not surprising then that he feared someone could do the same for his own child.
‘Yes, my Lion.’ Voldemort replied in their own tongue. ‘I simply desire-.’
‘I know,’ Harry cut off, pulling away just a tad to look at his lover. His green eyes unbelievably bright from the tears which stained his pale skin. No matter how many nutrients potions he was given nor proper exercise or anything which could help, Harry always remained just a bit unnaturally pale. Possibly from the shard of his lover’s soul within him, possibly from the abuse suffered as child. Whatever it was, neither knew.
“You desire what I desire. If you really want to give it a shot, then let’s try. Let’s have a family.”
Harry’s tears stopped when Voldemort captured those lovely ruby lips with a kiss.
-
Tom knew his pet had been captured the moment he heard the first floor sitting room being destroyed. Harry was, indeed, a feisty one. As he went down the stairs, taking his time as he did so Voldemort relished the moment. Plus, there was no point in rushing, even if he had an annoyingly potent desire to see his accidental horcrux.
As he stood in the doorway, the dark lord could not help but grin. A handful of his Death Eaters, some of the best he had been struggling against a mere 15-year-old boy. Perhaps Harry was more powerful then he knew. Or, perhaps, his Death Eaters were simply bad.
Red bolts of lightning flew from many of the wizards’ wands. His Death Eaters were strictly ordered not to harm Potter- which was why Bella hadn’t been sent. She was just too unpredictable sometimes. Sometimes, or rather, all the time.
She hadn’t been happy in her orders, though she had accepted them.
Now he watched as Harry dueled five wizards. His new pet moved serenely, like a snake. Creating counter curses, shields, summoning curses to send out. It was beautiful, the way his wand moved spinning in seemingly random patterns. His pet's movements were so fluid, it was like watching a painter's hand.
While Tom knew he should have interceded, stopped before someone accidentally hurt his horcrux, he did not. He wanted to watch, to see who would win.
He was not surprised when it was Harry.
“My dear,” the dark lord began, stepping over his stunned and unconscious servants. He couldn’t help but slightly enjoy the fear which rose in Harry. It was not in his stance, nor in the way of his eyes. It was in his soul, the soul which connected him to Harry that screamed. How well hidden, Harry was, to all the world save Voldemort.
‘What else is hidden?’ Tom wondered, trapping Harry into a corner of the room. Harry kept his wand raised, pointed at Tom. Smart child, defensive and so very afraid. Between when he had first learned Harry’s true purpose and then, he had become surprisingly possessive of Harry. He wanted the boy, wanted to make him into something great.
Lord Voldemort would burn the world, remake it, all just to lie it at this child’s feet.
“We have much to discuss. Now, your hand.”
“Last time you touched me, it didn’t end so well.”
“A problem, I assure you, that has been remedied.” Once again, the dark haired male offered his hand. Harry looked at it, then at the others around the room.
“How do I know you aren’t going to kill me? That’s all you’ve ever tried to do.”
With more patience then anyone had ever seen within the dark lord since his rebirth, he explained:
“I would rather suffer your mother’s counter curse a thousand times again before harming you.” Perhaps Harry heard the truth in his words, perhaps he figured it would be easier to escape if he went along with the dark lord.
Placing his hand within the other’s, Harry lowered his wand hand. Tom smiled at the other, placing a small kiss upon his new pet’s hand.
Leading Harry through the throng of bodies, he took Harry down the hall. He had his home- his castle redecorated for the boy. He made it warmer, more normal colored lighting, less cold grey walls. It wasn’t exactly what Voldemort liked, but he supposed that one had to make sacrifices now and then for their beloved.
Down the hall was another sitting room, one that was not currently occupied by a group of unconscious wizards. It did have Nagini within it, however. The dark lord desired to see the boy speak parselmouth- of course he could speak it to Harry. That wouldn’t be very interesting, however.
Inside the new sitting room, a fire warmed the cold winter air something he was sure Harry enjoyed. The boy wore such paltry clothes, barley more than rags. He had heard his relatives cared very much for the boy, why would he be dressed so poorly?
‘You have many secrets, don’t you?’ Voldemort thought to himself, eyes staying on the younger male.
The two wizards sat down in the dark maroon love seats in front of the fire. Nagini made her way over to them, sliding up the leg of Harry’s chair. The boy visibly froze, slightly afraid of the large snake, not that the dark wizard could blame him. Nagini was known for eating/killing Voldemort’s enemies.
‘I am pleased to finally met you, hatchling.’
‘uh same? I’ve heard a lot about you.’
Nagini moved to coil on Harry’s lap, part of her hanging off the chair. The female snake rested her head on one of the chair’s arms. A bit of her neck draped off the side, not that the boa minded much.
‘Master is lonely, not that he’d admit to it. Will you listen to him, little one? He will not hurt you or yours.’
Harry glanced upward to look at his captor, silver eyes meeting green. Harry was willing, a small part of him somehow hoping this would end the fight. The war he’d been thrown into since before he could even remember. The young wizard just wanted to rest, to have the family which had been stolen from him.
“I will. I’ll let Tom speak his piece.”
Tom, Harry’s little way of fighting. Despite his hatred of his old name, Voldemort enjoyed hearing Harry say it. It was meant to offend, meant to remind Tom of his roots.
Harry was truly worthy of his Gryffindor name.
“Firstly, are you aware of the prophecy which concerns us?”
The boy shook his head, his black hair flicking about like a slight wave. His hands were clutched into fists on his lap. One had unsteadily reached forward to gently pet Nagini’s head.
“Allow me to recite it then,” Tom cleared his throat, his silver eyes watching his companion.
‘The one with the Power to vanquish the dark lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seven month dies… and the dark lord will mark him as his equal but he will have power the dark lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to match the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.’
Having recited the prophecy in the snake’s tongue, Harry realized the importance of secrecy. Obviously, the prophecy concerned the two of them- something Voldemort had to have believed when he first heard it.
“So that’s why you killed my parents and tried to kill me. You thought a prophecy would dictate your future.” Voldemort easily heard the bitterness in Harry’s voice. The hatred, oh Harry could have done well in Slytherin had he allowed this rage to rule him. Then again, if Harry had he wouldn’t have the delectably naïve creature before him.
“Yes, but it doesn’t say what I did. On accident mind you but done nonetheless.”
“Aside from ruin my life?”
“Yes, aside from that. You, Harry James Potter, are my accidental and seventh horcrux.”
It didn’t take long for the older to realize that Harry didn’t know what he was talking about.
“A horcrux,” Voldemort explained “is usually an object which can hold a part of someone’s soul. In my youth, I made several of these. When your parents died, I accidentally hid a sliver of my soul within you.” Here, Voldemort leaned forward, reaching over to gently brush back some of Harry’s tar black hair. His scar, the lightning bolt which any wizard would recognize- where Tom’s soul had entered the boy’s infant body.
“That’s why I can talk to snakes? That’s why we have this,” Harry paused to tried to find a proper word to describe it “connection?”
“Yes, now as I’m sure you understand I cannot allow anyone to hurt you, Slytherin forbid kill you.”
The younger wizard leaned back, moving his arms to fold them over his chest. Nagini, who had begun to nap raised her head to check the two men weren’t about to fight then closed her eyes once more.
“I will not be your prisoner. Not without a fight.”
“I did not plan to. Harry, you have too much potential to simply be hidden away. That being said, until this war is over until I can make this world safe for you will you allow me to protect you as I see fit?”
“And after the war ends?”
“Depending on when and how, then we will discuss that. I don’t plan to cut you off from the rest of the world entirely, I’ll allow some of your companions to visit.”
“But I can’t leave.”
“Not without me, and not without my trusted Death Eaters.”
“Okay, let me get this straight. You, the person who killed my parents and my boyfriend who has a piece of his soul in me wants me to stay out of the war and among people who would rather see me dead then help me.”
Voldemort’s brain sort of shorted out when he heard ‘boyfriend.’
Harry had a boyfriend? Who? When had he killed him? The dark wizard could not recall purposely killing a lover of Harry’s. The only male who came to mind was the spare, the Hufflepuff who had come through the port key with Harry. His name, unfortunately, escaped Tom’s mental grasp.
That clearly had left a dent in his horcrux’s psyche, unfortunately it was neither time nor place for that discussion.
“In shorter terms, yes. Harry, I know I have done many a wrong to you. Allow me to care for you, now? To try to give you the proper family I have selfishly stolen?”
His eyes narrowed, for once Voldemort thought the color rather looked like the lightning of the killing curse. Perhaps the color had come from Voldemort’s own spell? Been sucked inside the glass orbs of the infant, forever marking the child as one who belonged to Lord Voldemort.
“There is something else, something you haven’t told me.”
“I will endeavor to tell you everything, to prove that unlike Dumbledore I truly mean the best.”
Harry did not move, waiting for the other to continue.
“It is not something discussed widely anymore, due to the re-emergence of bias against homosexuality. That being said, and I know without a doubt that you have this ability my dear.”
“What ability?” His voice wavered for a moment.
“The ability to bear children.”
Now, Harry’s brain got the chance to short circuit.
“What, exactly, do you want me to do in your new world? And what about the muggleborns? The half-bloods?” He had not been given the opportunity before to watch the young boy, he did not know how much Harry talked with his hands.
“I don’t care of blood status, that notion comes from my many pureblood followers. I simply want those who are like us to be treated as the gifts they are. Despite what people like Lucius would have you believe, new blood must be introduced at times otherwise things become unwell.”
That was good, or so Harry guessed.
All of this, the stress of even being near Voldemort was becoming quite a lot. Almost too much to handle.
“So you aren’t racist, or the blood equivalent.” He muttered, reaching up to rub at his eyes behind his glassed which were cracked once again.
His limbs were becoming stiff, a poor attempt to try to stay awake. If he succumbed to the softness of the puffy chair, he knew he would quickly fall asleep.
Voldemort nodded, mouth opened to continue when Harry added that he still wasn’t sure what Tom wanted Harry for.
“Every King needs a queen, does he not? And you, my dear horcrux shall be mine.”
A queen. Someone who could help shape a better world, to curb back Voldemort’s more anxious rages. That, unfortunately, was not what tempted Harry. Power could never tempt his soul; it hadn’t even tempted the young boy.
No, what Harry desired was family, children of his own. To be surrounded by love- why Tom could not guess.
This is what Voldemort offered. Protection, family, love all to a boy who seemed to be forced into the role of Atlas.
“Okay.”
--
The first several weeks were some of the most trying. Voldemort trying to sway Harry and prove to him that while Tom was not used to this part of relationships he would show his utter devotion to Harry. Often giving gifts of remarkable wealth, things that Harry didn’t need, just to show that Voldemort would and could. A display of wealth, Harry surmised.
It was usually the books which caught Harry’s interest, that or brooms. Real studies did not interest the boy, just stories where Harry could lose himself. Tales where things ended happily.
Such occurrences rarely happened to Harry.
Harry would often get into fights with Severus and Lucius. One such fight between Harry and their potion’s master was particularly eye opening.
He called Harry a spoiled little boy, one who knew little of real pain. Harry, in his anger, had summoned his wand. Voldemort couldn’t be sure why, why of all times or why it was this fight which made Harry do it. In the end, he supposed, it did not matter. Perhaps, it was just the last piece, the last bit of self-restraint Harry had after years of abuse.
With a spell that Tom was surprised the boy even knew, he did away with many levels of glamour over his body.
Patterns of scars littered Potter’s pale skin. An unbelievable number of scars, so many that should have really been Harry’s end. Upon his hand were what was left of what Voldemort assumed was a blood quill. The one who had forced such a torture on his beloved would be dealt with later.
“Do these look like the marks of a spoiled brat, Snape? Do you think that my relatives treated me like one of theirs?” Harry asked, his voice a threateningly quiet level.
“That was what I was lead to believe.”
“Then you are a bastard, aren’t you?” Harry paused, both of them unaware to the dark lord’s presence.
The two almost came to blows, their wands at the ready. Harry was the first to walk away, he was not one for fighting. He was beyond capable, he had the anger. It was just not his way.
If Severus had not berated the child so much in years past, Harry would likely have forgiven him.
Perhaps it was not too late for that still.
After Harry walked away, he went to their bedroom. He stripped out of his clothes, the muggle clothes he so enjoyed despite Voldemort’s multiple offers to pay a tailor for robes. Harry dropped his clothes on the ground, going into the shower with water so hot it had to burn. In their argument, Harry had relived events best forgotten.
Voldemort waited for his consort to exit, desiring to give comfort as best he could.
When Harry exited, his pale skin shinning an unhealthy shade of red he stared at Voldemort. Caught in-between two actions, where to run to?
Perhaps he was desperate, perhaps he finally believed in Voldemort’s words. Either way, it ended with Harry running to Tom’s arms.
Hiding his face against Voldemort’s neck, he allowed his tears to come. Tears which Voldemort kissed away, reveling in their salty taste though not the source.
“Tom, do you love me?”
Stopping his ministrations to speak, the dark lord answered “As the sun chases the moon, as the Rothchild’s slipper blooms, and as the oceans succumbs to nature’s design, I do love you Harry James Potter.”
For the first time since his arrival, Harry asked Voldemort to show him. To make love to him, as no one ever had nor no one after would.
“You are exquisite, my dear.” The dark lord murmured, brushing off Harry’s towel so it landed on the plush carpet floor. Harry gave a little gasp, either because of the cold or because of the way Voldemort used his rather skilled tongue. Ignoring how his own clothes were getting quite damp from his lover, he helped Harry move so that the boy’s rather thin legs were straddling the other. Moving his hands downward to grasp at the younger’s rather perfect arse, Voldemort loved the way Harry quivered as a single digit fingered the tense pink ring of muscle. Part of the dark wizard wanted to continue this way, without lube to cause blood to weep out of Harry, to see him undone by both pain and pleasure.
No, he could not do that. Harry was too precious to do that too. The boy had suffered enough, too much for the one who carried Voldemort’s soul. Besides, there was always others to torture. With Harry, he would be gentle this time until they had figured out their own rhythm. As he was about to murmur a spell to summon something for lube, something odd happened. The boy began to produce his own slick, a rare gift indeed. He knew Harry could hold a child but not this. Had Harry had not slithered his way into the Dark Lord’s heart he would be subject to multiple tests- rather like Frankenstein’s monster just to see how he ticked.
How did this boy look?
Harry pulled away from him for a moment, this was obviously something new for him.
“Are you a virgin, my dear?”
He got a short nod, hands clutched around his partner’s neck.
“Don’t worry,” he replied. Feeling his cock becoming achingly hard. This boy was too sweet, so innocent. Something Voldemort could not wait to further devour.
The boy whimpered in Voldemort’s arms, sounds so delightful it threatened to make the dark lord cum in his pants like a bloody teenager. Once he had stretched the boy with three digits, he could not hold back any further. Delicately pushing the boy back onto the bed, his back against the soft bedding, Voldemort pulled away to look at him.
Harry hadn’t looked so lovely before. His pale skin contrasted like a white cloud amongst a blue sky. Due to Voldemort’s care he was no longer bruised nor cut, though there were still the patterns of scars around him. How harsh had his queen been treated? Harry’s hard cock rested against his stomach, it shined a bright red with drips of precum decorating its head. His chest heaved, his ribs still showing even if it was just barley. His dark hair fell around his pillow like a kind of dark halo. The boy who lived looked like a kind of dark angel, a fallen angel who succumbed to his demon.
The Gabriel to his Lucifer.
His killing curse eyes watched Tom, waiting, wanting. Who was he to allow his queen to suffer?
Dropping his pants to the floor to meet Harry’s towel, Voldemort climbed atop his mate. Reaching downward to guide his manhood into Harry’s leaking entrance, he whispered an order to not tense which Harry tried to nod to. It was more like a jerk of his head then a nod.
Thrusting his hard cock into the tight warm entrance, Voldemort heard his lover cry out. The sound more of a moan then a scream.
“Oh, fuck. Oh merlin.”
“Say my name, pet.”
The sound of the bed slamming back into the wall, the slick sound of Voldemort thrusting further and further inside Harry, the boy must have lost himself to it. Not that Voldemort could blame him. His usually pale lips bright from Voldemort’s kisses.
He knew the boy was about to say Tom when he changed his mind.
“Voldemort,” His name, the name so many feared to even speak- including the death eaters. It showed his fearlessness, that this man would only be his equal never a superior.
“My Harry,” Affection ran through his voice, the one so many feared. Not Harry, not his love. Not the one who would be his queen.
The young wizard looked up at him, green meeting silver.
“My Lord.” Not mocking, not sarcastic. Just two breathy words from the quivering form beneath him.
The form underneath him tensed, the heat enveloping his cock becoming too much. Shooting his cum within the young form, his seed undoubtedly taking root in Harry’s womb.
Grunting the young boy’s name, he took one most thrust inside going as deep as he could. Harry screamed, the sound echoing through Riddle Manor. With barely any physical stimulation to his cock, Harry came as well. His shots of cum staining both his and Voldemort’s chest/stomach.
Pulling out, Voldemort laid down next to the exhausted teen now both physically and emotionally drained. Smiling a little as Harry curled up next to him, their legs becoming a tangled mess.
“My sweet soul,”
“Perverted old man.”
The dark wizard laughed and wrapped his arms around the smaller form. Watching the now asleep teen until he also succumbed to the world of dreams.
Not soon after Harry and Voldemort’s first night together, the young wizard began to desire his godparents. Several months had passed since had last seen Remus and Sirius. It had been Christmas break, actually only a handful of days before the holiday.
Now spring was beginning again. He’d missed the first opportunity in his whole life to spend Christmas with his family- Voldemort did feel a bit guilty because of that.
The next one, he promised to Harry wouldn’t be as tense, or as stressful.
“Please? Can I go to them? If they see Death Eaters, they won’t stop to listen.”
Voldemort studied his consort’s face- soon to be official consort. He’d taken Voldemort’s hands in his own, pressing a kiss to the top of them.
“They have never seen Tom Riddle’s form, yes?”
“Yes?”
“Then await my return, dear one. Since your disappearance things have become much more dangerous. I will procure your godfathers and bring them here.”
The smile on the younger wizard’s face was worth it.
“I’ll get a room ready for them.”
Apparently, Black and Lupin were a couple. In all honesty, the dark wizard wasn’t too surprised. The elder Black brother seemed hell-bent to do all he could to anger his mother.
It did not take long for Harry to finish preparing a room, it was even in the same wing as he and Voldemort’s room. The rest of the time was spent waiting, nervously pacing through the first floor of their home. He tried reading, though he quickly gave up on that. He simply couldn’t focus on the words. He’d reread the same line a hundred times.
When he heard the tell-tale signs of a room being destroyed, he ran out to greet his godfathers. Remus and Sirius were side by side, wands out against Tom, their backs to Harry- so, the voice of their godson took them by surprise.
“Harry!” Harry could see they wanted to run to him, Remus’ eyes taking on a dangerous glint. The wolf did not enjoy seeing his pup in what he saw as a dangerous situation.
“Sirius, Remus- please?”
The two eyed one another, Sirius turned to keep his eyes on Tom while Remus asked Harry what form his boggart took.
“A full moon.”
The two older men swarmed to their godson. Pulling the boy into a tight embrace, Sirius looking quite a bit as he had after escaping prison.
“Never do that to me again, pup! I can’t- I couldn’t”
Remus looked down at him, sniffing at the air around Harry.
“Harry, are you pregnant?”
The emerald eyed boy looked past them, a small smile gracing his delicate features. Since becoming with child, even in such early stages Harry’d begun taking on a more effeminate appearance. His hair had grown, reaching down to his shoulders. Voldemort especially enjoyed pulling it during their trysts, which Harry enjoyed too.
In Harry’s dark hair, keeping his bangs pulled back was a silver hairpiece in the form of a bird on the wing. It’s silver shinning bright from the fire’s lights, the inset sapphires and emeralds a lovely contrast against the inky blackness of Harry’s hair.
“Yes, still in the first trimester almost the second.”
“And the dark lord is the Father?” Sirius asked, his wand clutched dangerously in the man’s hand.
“Uh yes? But listen to what he has to say, alright?”
Remus and Sirius looked at one another, neither of them able to say no to their boy. How could they? Neither of them had ever seen the boy look so happy, so at peace. Being out of the fight had done wonders to their best friend’s son.
If Voldemort could make Harry this happy without being under the imperio then he deserved a few minutes of their time.
“Speak your piece, then.”
With a calm nature, Voldemort offered his hand to Harry who took it. Smiling all the while and for a moment Harry and Voldemort saw only the other. The rest of the world falling apart. Harry looked at the elder like he was the sun. Voldemort to Harry like he was the stars.
The elder wizard placed his other hand on Harry’s stomach where their child was growing before kissing him. It was odd-beyond odd. Neither Sirius nor Remus could believe that Voldemort was capable of such tenderness.
Both believed beyond a doubt, however, that their Harry deserved that and more.
Their Harry deserved the world at his feet, it was slowly becoming evident that Voldemort believed the same. Except that Voldemort really would give it to Harry, once the war was over.
The inclusion of the werewolf and Black allowed for many Order members to be swayed, as well as Harry’s own order within Hogwarts. More and more, as word spread that the boy-who-lived sided with the dark, and that the dark’s true intentions had been lied about to the public.
It was toward the end of the Harry’s pregnancy that the Ministry of Great Britain fell. The stress and unknowing of where his future husband’s location pushed Harry into an early birth.
Narcissa Malfoy had been with Harry, as well as Hermione and Ron. Harry’s two best friends found it difficult to put their trust in Voldemort and had stayed behind from the battle to guard their friend in this dangerous time.
Hermione had been personally apologized to by Voldemort for her treatment as a muggleborn, promising that in the future all with the gift of magic would be treated properly not based off blood status. The brightest witch of her age accepted it, either from sincerity or from Tom’s charm. Ron was hesitant, giving Tom the opportunity to act before he judged him.
As Hermione and Narcissa lead Harry into his chamber to help him through his contractions, Ron summoned his patronus. The Jack Russel ran around him, light dancing wildly.
“Go to Voldemort, tell him Harry’s having the baby.” Without another word, the patronus took off.
While there were a handful of Death Eaters whose only mission was to guard Harry and there were quite a few of Harry’s friends who stayed out of the battle to guard the manor, Ron did not feel safe. He did not feel like there was enough being done to ensure his best friend’s safety.
Not that Harry couldn’t defend himself, it was just now the Seeker was fighting for two. As he was from a large family, Ron knew how hard it could be to defend them all.
Taking guard outside the door which lead to the birthing room, he ordered Neville to stand guard with him here, for Luna to guard the balcony and for the twins to guard the room’s windows. Those were just some of the volunteers to keep Harry safe.
Remus and Sirius had gone with Voldemort, both trying to help sway some of the order members who still remained.
Harry’s screams began not long after Ron had sent the Father a patronus. It was a terrible, pained thing. It made Ron want to set a silencing charm, something he saw Neville wanted to do as well. They couldn’t though, in case something happened- they were attacked.
If they were attacked, then the two wouldn’t know. Down the hall a bit was three of the six guards assigned to Harry from Voldemort.
The six were apparently beyond question in their loyalty to the Death Eater cause, and to Voldemort. One of them, oddly enough, was Viktor Krum. The young man had been an interesting addition to Ron and Hermione’s relationship. A pet for them both to share.
For a moment, the last Weasely son wondered what Voldemort would do. Would he leave the battle to Lucius and Bellatrix? Would he stay, finish it then return to his lover?
Absentmindedly twirling his wand, He thought that the two really ought to get married soon. Everyone else already considered them married. Why not make it official?
Besides, he and the twins couldn’t wait to start calling Harry ‘Queen.’
The screaming, thankfully had stopped. Hermione came through the door, an anxious look on her face.
“What is it? Is the baby not okay?”
“No he’s fine, just, Harry had triplets. We have two more to go.” Only stopping long enough to place a kiss on Ron’s cheek and a wave to Krum, Hermione re-entered the room.
Voldemort showed up after the birth of the second baby had been born. Luna had switched out from guarding the balcony to helping with the babies. Now another ex-order member, Tonks, guarded the balcony.
Voldemort had apparated through the wards, the only person able to do so. He looked at Ron expectantly, obviously desiring to just order the boy to tell him what was happening.
“He had triplets, two have been born. There’s just one left. He- he’s getting tired.”
The last birth was the hardest, Harry was tired as Voldemort saw. Though the boy’s face did light up just a little when he saw Tom coming through the door.
The first two, both boys, were healthy. They had been cleaned and born within moments of each other. The last was taking longer.
“You can do this, my dove.” The dark wizard murmured, placing a kiss atop Harry’s sweaty forehead.
Harry stuttered out a tired “Tom” before screaming out again. Or at least, a weaker version of one. It was more like a silent cry, one of his hands held tight within Tom’s.
At the end of the bed Narcissa stood, bits of blood staining her forearms.
“That’s it my Queen, I can see the child. You’re almost there.”
Looking back up at his lover, his green eyes so very bright from tears. Tom felt his heart break, how could he have put his fragile queen through this? They should have waited.
Too late now.
With a last push, Harry gave birth to their last child. A girl. Two boys and one girl.
“Are they okay?”
Tom nodded, taking the child into his arms. Her bright blue eyes taking in the new world around her.
“She’s perfect, they all are.”
Harry smiled, resting against the bed. His black hair sweaty and stuck to his head.
“All 10 fingers and toes.” He murmured before falling asleep.
Cleaning up the mess did not take long. Once Harry and the babies were clean Voldemort and the others had them moved into his and Harry’s chambers. While Harry rested, Voldemort sat next to him on the bed, their eldest son in his arms. Sitting at the foot of the bed were Harry’s two closest friends, Hermione and Ron. They held his daughter while on Harry’s side, sitting on two moved chairs were Sirius and Remus who held the middle born.
Voldemort had thought of a few names for them, still Harry had to give his consent to them.
In the end, for their eldest they decided on Hyperion James Riddle-Potter, Orion Salazar Riddle-Potter, and Ophelia Lily Riddle-Potter.
The Princes and Princess of the new world. The world Tom controlled and re-made for his Queen, his horcrux.
For the only person in all his long life Tom had ever cared for beyond their use to him.
For Harry, Lord Voldemort did the impossible.
Always.