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Harry was staring out the window. Rain pounded the glass, streaking it like tears. He could vaguely see his own reflection in the window, with the night as his backdrop. Nothing about the darkness outside would at all indicate the darkness within him, the battles he fought daily. It couldn"t betray the very things his mind had been mulling over for weeks now. The darkness was unforgiving, but also silent. Secrets spilled into it stayed within it, not to be given to anyone else. Harry had spoken to the darkness a lot over the last few months, after a particularly vivid dream.
He shouldn"t have given it any thought. He should have told someone, especially after what his dreams had meant the year before. But instead, he stayed quiet. He didn"t tell anyone about the dreams that had started plaguing him from the moment he stepped back into Privet Drive. It wasn"t as though anyone else had told him anything anyway. He didn"t know about the Order of the Phoenix until he was nearly expelled from Hogwarts and his wand almost snapped. Dumbledore didn"t even talk to him when he came to Harry"s defense. Hermione and Ron had said nothing about the fact that they spent the whole summer together with the Order while Harry was with the Dursleys. Alone.
Always alone.
He felt bitter about it, even though some part of him knew the things done were done to protect him. But how much protection did he have when was the one dragged to the graveyard to face Voldemort, and almost die in the process. He was the one who fought Voldemort and survived. And yet they treated him like he was fragile, breakable. They kept him in the dark. He wasn"t exactly bitter about returning the favor.
The dreams had started rather plainly. It was just him and Voldemort, sitting at a table and talking. That was it. The man made no move to hurt him, didn"t sneer at him or threaten him. Instead, he sat across the table from Harry watching him with those crimson eyes. When Harry refused to speak first, Voldemort did. He told him about his childhood, about growing up in an orphanage. He told him about what he did after Hogwarts, about his travels around the world. He told him about his schooling, he told him about his family. Harry was surprised to hear any of it. Voldemort"s blood-red eyes watched him as he spoke, standing out against his pale skin. He told Harry how he murdered his own father and how he framed his uncle for it. He told him that he had managed to find a way to almost ensure his immortality and how it had driven him to extremes he never thought he would go. After a few dreams and learning literally everything he could possibly know about Voldemort, he opened up in return. It was just a dream, after all, there were things spoken that he already knew and others that were probably a fabrication of his psyche.
He told Voldemort about growing up with the Dursley"s, watching the man"s eyes flare with hatred when Harry eventually described the Dursleys" treatment of him. He told the other about the cupboard under the stairs. He told him about the zoo when Harry accident set a python on Dudley. He told him about his ability to speak Parseltongue and how the school had shunned him. He told him about the diary and his encounter. He told him about the basilisk. He told Voldemort about the time his aunt cut his hair except for a bit in the front to cover his scar and how it managed to return to its normal wild state only seconds later. He told him about apparating onto the roof to run from Dudley and his gang.
After that, the dreams began to shift slightly. Harry would see meetings with Death Eaters, among them Severus Snape. Voldemort told him about the half a prophecy he had heard, and how his madness led him down even darker paths.
You and I could have been friends, Harry. In another life.
Voldemort told him about the Order and the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. Harry didn"t believe him. He would know about a secret Order hellbent on fighting Voldemort, right? Surely, he of all people would know. Voldemort watched him with cunning eyes.
I"ll show you then, Harry. I"ll release you from the confinement of your wretched family and I will show you the Order. Those who keep you in the dark.
Two days later, Dementors had come after Harry and Dudley. That night, he was taken to Grimmauld Place. That night, he was told about the Order of the Phoenix.
It was then that he began to suspect that his dreams weren"t just dreams.
"This is real," Harry said, watching Voldemort"s reaction.
"Yes."
"Everything you"ve told me?"
"Real."
"And the thing I"ve told you-"
"I promised I would release you from your aunt and uncle"s grasp. Did I not fulfill my promise?"
Harry had tried to ignore the dreams for the rest of the summer as he spent time with the Order, amongst them Sirius. When Voldemort wasn"t in his dreams, he dreamt of Cedric and the graveyard.
"I told you something once, Harry." Voldemort began. Harry had tried to keep the dreams at bay, but talking with Voldemort was so much better than living the same emerald-shaded nightmare over and over. "Do you remember the second time we met?"
"Which was the second time?"
Voldemort chuckled at that. The low sound that caught Harry off guard.
"I suppose that is a valid question." The other watched him with amusement. "In your first year, when you discovered the truth about Quirrell. You and I met with the Mirror of Erised."
"I remember," Harry answered.
"Do you remember the offer I gave you?"
Harry could hear the words echoing in his mind, along with Dumbledore"s warning that no spell could reawaken the dead.
"You said we could bring back my parents."
"It is an offer I"m still extending."
"Why?" Harry demanded. "You killed them. You killed Cedric."
"I did," Voldemort confirmed. "I cannot bring back your friend. But your parents-" He trailed off, leaving the rest to Harry"s imagination.
The offer had stuck in Harry"s head for weeks now. Months. It was almost the end of summer when he was given that offer. And he was given it again when he and the Weasleys went to Diagon Alley. Harry had trudged along after everyone else with Moody at his back. He wasn"t expecting anything to happen except for a few stares, which he earned. It was only when he arrived at Grimmauld Place that he learned about the Daily Prophet and the constant attacks on him. He knew better than to think no one would stare at him as he walked down the street. How Voldemort had managed to subvert Moody, Harry had no idea. They were in Flourish and Blotts, looking for their books for the year. The store was crowded as it always was, and Harry supposed that had something to do with how Voldemort could hide so easily.
He was staring at a shelf, pretending not to hear the whispers of some of the other Hogwarts students and their parents around him when he was suddenly pulled to the side. No one even noticed his sudden absence from where he stood as his body was manhandled under the stairs. There were two stories in Flourish and Blotts and probably a lot more than Harry had yet to see. Most people ignored the opening under the stairs, including Harry himself. It reminded him too much of where he had spent most of his childhood.
The person who pulled him under was covered by a massive black cloak that partially covered their face. Harry opened his mouth to protest when the other person pulled their cloak back just slightly. It was enough though, that Harry could see who it was. And he was utterly taken aback.
Voldemort looked like himself and yet not entirely at the same time. His eyes were still crimson-colored, reminding Harry of fresh blood. But he looked so much like he had when Harry encountered the diary. His hair was chestnut brown and wavy. He had high cheekbones and pale skin, though it looked much healthier looking than when he emerged from the cauldron. He was the same height, a head taller than Harry. His cheeks were sunken in slightly, but nowhere near as much as they had been only months before. Overall, he looked somewhat human. And that was all the more terrifying. It was one thing to have an enemy who looked like something distinctly else. It was another to be reminded that Voldemort was actually human.
Except for the eyes.
"Hello, Harry." Voldemort greeted. "Enjoying your summer?"
Harry was about ready to start yelling, to pull the man out into the light to shut everyone else up for good. But Voldemort"s eyes sparkled with humor, as though he expected Harry to do just that or found the very thought amusing. And yet Harry hadn"t spoken aloud.
"Have you thought about my offer?" He asked reaching up to push Harry"s hair aside and reveal his scar. "I don"t expect you to answer now. But I would hope you will soon." The other"s hand fell away as he grinned ferally down at Harry. He was some strange amalgam of human and demon, something snake-like and yet not all at once. "I would have your answer by Halloween. Or else we"ll have to wait another year."
And then he was gone. He pulled the cloak over his head and swept away, vanishing into the crowd. Harry was left standing with his back against the bookcase, staring where Voldemort had once been.
No one else had noticed him.
The dreams stayed well into the school year in which Harry vented his frustrations about Umbridge.
You can prove them all wrong, Harry.
He had finally made up his mind in the last week of October.
He agreed.
It was stupid and it was rash. But given everything that had happened, if he could have his parents back, then maybe he could be just Harry. Maybe they could leave and not have to deal with Voldemort anymore. Maybe Voldemort would even leave him alone, maybe things could be different.
He was in a manor now, not the castle. How he had left Hogwarts he wasn"t certain. But there he was, sitting on a windowsill watching the rain fall against it. There was a graveyard in the distance, and if he understood where he was correctly, it was the same graveyard he had been in before.
He had woken with a warm breakfast next to him and wrapped in emerald sheets. It was only midday when he finally saw Voldemort. The man looked back to his normal, snake-like self.
"I"ll find you when it"s time. In the meantime, enjoy yourself. Explore. But stay within the house. I won"t be able to protect you if you leave."
Harry didn"t really explore, didn"t go anywhere. Instead, he found his way back to the room he had been in and stayed there, watching the sun move across the sky and eventually dip below the horizon. The whole time, he debated with himself if this was the good idea he had thought it was during one of his more frustrating moments. He wondered what would happen if he left the manor, who would find him.
"Does your reflection answer your quandaries, Harry?" Voldemort asked from behind him. He looked up, seeing the other"s reflection in the window behind his own.
"No." He answered, turning to face the man. "What would happen if I left?"
"I imagine the Order would find you." Voldemort waved his hand. "The house is heavily warded, they can"t find you here. But outside-" Voldemort trailed off.
"Why are you doing this?"
Crimson eyes fell on him. "I made you a promise. And I am a man of my word."
The other gestured for him to follow before turning and sweeping from the room. Harry noted the way his cloak billowed behind him and idly thought of Snape and how bat-like he looked when he did such things. Voldemort didn"t look like a bat. He looked more regal, even with his snake-like appearance. Harry followed him through the manor until they reached a mostly empty room. There were candles lit around the room and in the center was a circle of runes. Harry wished he had taken Ancient Runes with Hermione now, seeing the various runes on the wooden floor. They appeared to shimmer in the candlelight.
Voldemort watched him as he stepped closer, studying the scene in front of him.
"What now?"
"It was nighttime when I killed your parents," Voldemort said softly. "Did you know that?" Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. "Did you also know that I spoke to you before I tried to kill you?"
At that, Harry shook his head, unable to speak. He had vague memories of that night, but most of them were just filled with screams and emerald. He didn"t hear words that weren"t spoken by his mother.
"I told you that I would carry your death with me." Voldemort was behind him, so close that the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "I told you that I would never forget your sacrifice." The other gave a small huff. "If only I had known that I was to be the sacrifice that night." He paused. "And that you would be the one to carry us forward."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Do you know why I think I could bring your parents? What ties us now?"
"The prophecy you told me about?"
Voldemort hummed. "In part, yes. You are much smarter than you"re given credit for." A skeletal finger drifted over his forehead, avoiding his scar. "Do you know what a horcrux is, Harry?"
"No."
"It is a piece of one"s soul that is split from the whole and placed somewhere else for safekeeping." Voldemort"s finger grazed his scar and pain shot through his body. He screamed, his body seizing, and then the pain abated after a moment. Voldemort held him upright, the two of them both breathing heavily. "You are a horcrux, Harry. My horcrux."
"I-" He began. "I"m what?"
"You hold a piece of my soul," Voldemort whispered. "You and I are tied in every way, now Harry. You hold my soul, your blood is my blood." The other backed away after a moment. "Undress."
Harry spluttered, turning to the man about to protest. Voldemort smirked.
"Did you think this would be an innocent affair, Harry?"
He was about ready to protest, to run, and let the Order or the Death Eaters find him. He was about ready to take his chances with death when Voldemort sighed and stepped closer.
"I understand your hesitation," He ran a finger over Harry"s jaw. "But I will remind you that there are very little secrets left between us. You"ve seen me. And it"s just a body." Harry didn"t move. "Think of your parents, Harry."
At that, he was broken from his nervous stupor and nodded. There was a reason he was here. There was a reason he had agreed to such preposterous things. His parents. Voldemort was returning his parents to him.
He turned away from the man. He didn"t feel the weight of the other"s gaze as he began to pull at his shirt and then his shoes. It was a slow-going process until he was eventually bare and shaking. After he was finally undressed, Voldemort walked up behind him once again. There was nothing said as he was guided into the circle of runes. Harry was automatically guarding his body when Voldemort pushed on his shoulder, lowering him to the ground. He moved to his knees, the heels of his feet pressing into his ass. The floor was cold but seemed to warm under his touch.
Voldemort stayed behind him as he raised Harry"s wrist. He idly noted the scar from a few months prior, the jagged line that ran up his forearm. The other man was sitting behind him, with his robes pressing against Harry"s back. Harry looked down at where Voldemort"s hand wrapped around his wrist, watching as the other hand moved across his body with a silver blade. He swallowed thickly while the blade pierced his skin. It hurt as much as it did the last time, but Harry hadn"t already been through the pain of the TriWizard Tournament beforehand. He could handle the pain now.
His parents. This was for his parents.
Voldemort turned his hand over, letting the blood fall from his arm and onto the floor. The other hummed in his ear, making Harry shiver.
"What now?" He asked breathlessly.
"That was the easy part." Voldemort hummed, his breath rushing over Harry"s skin. "This next part will hurt."
Harry opened his mouth to ask what was next before Voldemort began chanting behind him. He didn"t know what the man was saying, he couldn"t understand anything. All he knew was the candles around the room suddenly went insane. The flames shot skyward, toward the high ceiling above them. Then pain began to bloom in his body. It started slowly, in his gut, and then filtered outward. He suddenly felt as though he was on fire. The flames around them continued to reach skyward as his blood on the floor began to expand and boil.
Voldemort dropped the knife, wrapping an arm around Harry.
A bare arm.
Where there had once been robes, there was now only skin and they were pressed incredibly close together. Voldemort was still chanting as their skin touched, sending electricity through Harry"s body.
"Trust me," Voldemort whispered in his ear, right as something wet touched him where nothing else had before.
He gasped.
Voldemort"s body was practically wrapped around his own as skeletal fingers came to his throat, holding him in place. After several minutes, the pain began to be replaced by something else. Something Harry was not expecting at all. He had expected pain, he hadn"t expected pleasure. Voldemort pushed inside him and Harry had no illusions about what with.
This wasn"t exactly how he was planning on losing his virginity, and part of him wondered what exactly this had to do with anything.
Except that Voldemort didn"t move. He kept whisper-chanting against Harry"s hair.
He screamed.
The pain began again, starting in his forehead, where for so many years, he had pain. The blood on the floor bubbled angrily and the flames began to take on faces.
Then the other began to move inside him. He was surprised at the lack of pain of being penetrated, and he was also surprised at how easily pleasure began to bloom in place of it. He didn"t even know when along the way the other had prepared him enough that this particular act wasn"t painful. He only knew that his own cock was fully erect and untouched. He moaned unwillingly as Voldemort shifted them, pushing Harry down onto his hands and thrusting into him with vigor. He could hear the slap of skin on skin and feel his body being used and pleasured all at once. It was far too erotic than it had any right to be.
He tried to force himself to protest, to ask what this particular act had to do with anything, only to stop when the blood under him began to shift again. He could see his own reflection in the blood, and then another face that was his and yet not at the same time. Voldemort pulled him back, pressing his chest against Harry"s back.
The other was breathing heavily as he thrust up into him, hitting something within Harry that pushed another moan from him.
"It"s unorthodox," Voldemort said softly. "But you want your parents back, right Harry?"
"Yes." Was all he was able to breathe before Voldemort"s grasp became vice-like. His thrusts were brutal, making Harry"s body shake on impact.
Harry moaned loudly, leaning his weight back into the body behind him.
"Very good," Voldemort hummed in his ear.
The hand still around Harry"s throat moved to his chin, forcing his head to turn. Voldemort"s image seemed to flicker as Harry was forced to face him. And then their lips crashed together. Harry melted into the kiss. He wasn"t expecting himself to submit so easily, but he did know that he was suddenly tingling all over, as though he were on fire except it wasn"t bad. It was as though he was dipped in liquid pleasure. Voldemort continued his brutal thrusts while his tongue slid into Harry"s mouth, exploring.
Harry reached a hand around, unable to stop himself, and gripped the back of the other"s head, holding him in their kiss.
This was the man who tried to kill him. This was the man who had killed his parents. And here Harry was not only actively kissing him, but having lost his virginity to him. And he was more excited than he had ever been in his whole life.
He felt alive. Energized.
Voldemort"s mouth left his, pressing soft almost tender kisses against his neck. And it was enough to drive him wild.
He went from confused submission to active participation. Voldemort"s other hand moved from his chin down to his cock, wrapping around it. The blood on the floor boiled and there was a soft pop.
Harry turned his attention to the now massive pool, seeing it begin to shift. It reminded him oddly of the cauldron that Voldemort stepped out of as it began to shift and forms began to appear within it.
It was working.
Voldemort thrust up into him whispering in his ear something he couldn"t understand. His head felt like it was being stuffed with feathers, and his skin was on fire. Pleasure roared through him like he was on a rushing river. It was all too much. He had never been overwhelmed like this before. And Voldemort didn"t relent.
His thrusts became more brutal to the point that Harry could only lean against him. He couldn"t move, couldn"t think. He could only feel and experience. He could only hear the low moans of the man behind him as the boiling, bubbling pool of blood became more and more solid. The flames of the candles whipped around the room, suddenly connecting and forming a circle just outside the circle of runes.
Harry felt like his head was about to split open, oscillating between extreme pleasure and pain. His heart was in his throat, choking him. His arm began to burn as though it was dipped in acid.
He gasped, pulling it away and watching as the wound began to heal, his skin sealing together. Voldemort gave a particularly rough thrust, causing Harry to double over as his vision went white with pleasure. He braced himself on the floor as Voldemort"s body draped over his. He never relented, even as he too began to shift. Harry couldn"t see much of him. He could only see the arm that was wrapped around his chest and the hand that was pumping his cock with vigor. But slowly, it became less and less skeletal.
His skin became healthier-looking, more like the man Harry had seen in Diagon Alley. At the same time, he caught sight of a flash of fire-red hair in front of him. Then dark, wild hair.
Bodies began to solidify as his and Voldemort"s collided, over and over again.
He was going insane with every feeling tore through him with vengeance.
He moaned, feeling the building pleasure about to reach its peak.
Voldemort gave another brutal thrust.
And then everything happened at once.
The blood fell away from the bodies on the floor, suddenly revealing bare but very whole forms. He could see his parents" faces, the way their chests began to move, and the way their eyes flicked behind eyelids.
Then Voldemort came, spilling inside Harry. He felt both elated and embarrassed at the same time as he was pulled upward once more, pressing against a less than skeletal body. He turned slightly, seeing the man he had seen in Diagon Alley.
And then the burn in his arm turned severe. At the same time, his parents across the room hissed in pain, eyes flying open as black marks began forming and expanding on their arms. At the same time, a black mark appeared on Harry"s arm. He had seen the Dark Mark before, and he knew that was what appeared on his parents" arms. But what appeared on his own was not the Dark Mark.
It was a snake, a massive python, that wrapped around the duel scars on his arm.
Voldemort pulled out of him and Harry felt his come slide out with it and down his leg.
The man hummed, wrapping his arms tightly around Harry once more.
"There they are, Harry." He was ready to protest, to start shouting. To demand to know what had happened and why all three of them were now marked. "I told you we would bring your parents back to life. I never said I wouldn"t keep them. And you."
Panic rushed through him as he made eye contact with his parents.
"Mom? Dad?"
"Harry?"
And then Voldemort laughed, low and musically.
Harry"s vision went black.