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There wasn't much in terms of anger. They knew it was a long time coming.
The divorce was finalized, quills dipped in ink, and Harry felt excited at the future to come.
Which, in the face of Ginny's tears, was probably a bad thing.
But the divorce was necessary for both of them.
Ginny wanted someone who understood the feeling of shadows in the throat, who wouldn't judge her for nightmares, who wouldn't look at her in fear upon finding out that oh, hey, she was possessed by a Dark Lord and is still in therapy for it fifteen years later.
But Ginny didn't understand.
She tried to. She really did.
But it's hard to be in love with the one person who fell for your nightmares after the man himself died.
----
When the Horcrux was cured, Harry felt...normal.
He didn't feel angry or sad. He didn't feel happy or excited that it was gone.
He just felt calm, like it was a regular day.
When everything settled down and he stopped having to make a game out of escaping from the paparazzi, he went on vacation. It was nice vacation to France, where Bill and Fleur were residing, and when he got there he promptly had a panic attack.
They found him lying in a puddle of his own vomit.
He wasn't used to the normalcy. He wasn't used to his actions not being dictated by emotion after emotion. He didn't know what to do with himself.
So he threw himself into what people expected of him.
He dated Ginny. That was nice, having someone dote on you, challenge you. Especially the challenge part. It's the reason why he stayed with her for so long---she was a challenge itself. It was like fixing a broken television set when you yourself had no experience.
Upon realizing that mindset wasn't quite right (Luna looked at him weirdly and he never said anything like that again) he went and started Quidditch up again. Adult sports clubs, never a lack of those.
They were boring. The position of seeker was fun as a teenager, but when you're older and people keep coming to your club to cheer for The Savior instead of Plain Ol' Harry, or even, fuck, Steve over in the Beater position...
His club members grew to resent him.
So he quit Quidditch, and became an Auror, returned to dating Ginny, married Ginny, and had a few kids with her.
Perfect normalcy.
Except it wasn't.
Albus Severus Potter once asked who he was named after. He wanted to say, the two most stubborn men I ever met. People who, now long gone, made him nostalgic for all the wrong reasons.
Nostalgic for a time of war, not peace.
But he went on a spiel about how good they were and Albus accepted that answer and returned to playing with his plush dragon. Harry smiled and ruffled his head, much to his childish dismay.
His job as an Auror was a complicated one, and was probably the catalyst for his current thoughts.
There was a man there. A little younger, but not by much. He had black hair and brown eyes and he was completely ordinary. But he looked like him and worked in the Department of Mysteries.
It wasn't a blood relation. Even Ginny couldn't see it, when he pointed out.
Still. Something about him made him bite into the man.
Three kids in, and he cheated on his wife for a fantasy of an old enemy. He tied him up and fucked him harder than he ever did his wife.
Then he returned and poured candle wax on him. He wondered what would happen if he begged, and he begged so beautifully.
And he returned, once more.
Eventually it stopped, the man not wanting to be a homewrecker of all things. He didn't want the public's eye on him, he said.
Harry, for the first time in years, broke something. He swore and cried and the man ran away, thinking he was the fault, that he was in danger, but no, he would never hurt his beautiful Tom.
Tom.
Tom, Tom, Tom.
---
He initially wasn't sure if he was in love with the concept of Tom, Tom Riddle himself, or Voldemort, or all three at once and everything more.
Tom was understandable. He and Harry could relate to each other. The tragic orphan misused by others, treated with disrespect, grew up to be so very angry.
Tom Riddle himself was a bad person. He treated people with no respect, but played them like a fiddle into believing he did for his own little whims.
Voldemort was even more so horrible, but the thought of that long tongue entangling with his, shoving down his throat and begging for more after Harry fucked him...
The guilt after that fantasy was strong, but after the fourth time it happened, he started to clue in.
Harry James Potter at this current moment would've loved Tom Marvolo Riddle regardless of what form he took.
Truthfully, Voldemort as he knew him the most----that's the form that appeared in his dreams the most.
Yes, Tom Riddle was handsome. But everyone appreciated that artificial beauty.
Voldemort was raw power, pure energy given form and life. He could do anything he wanted, to anyone he wanted, and he feared Harry. (And Dumbledore, but this isn't about him.)
Harry's eyes glazed over at that thought. It was because of the Hocrux within his head, but Harry, for only a brief while, had control over Voldemort's every thought. He wondered if Voldemort also thought the same to Harry as Harry thought towards him? He wondered if his lust for power manifested in sexual desire.
Or maybe he didn't feel anything at all. He might not've ever had anyone to show him.
"Harry?" Hermione interrupted his thoughts.
Hermione didn't know about the reason for the divorce. But she was Harry's bestest friend in that moment.
Ron had comforted Ginny after the divorce.
Hermione had handed him a time turner.
"You think this will work?" She had asked, biting at her fingernail. "I know we went through all the calculations, but are you absolutely sure this will work the way you want it to?"
"I know so, Hermione."
A few white lies. He felt bad about lying to Hermione, but he knew she resented the way the war went down. Having to lose her parents multiple times to wiping their memories----it turns out even when the war is over, there's still stragglers who would love to take revenge.
Hermione never forgave herself for what happened to them.
She nodded. "Go get him."
----
Voldemort stared at the middle-aged man in front of him, who had held out his Horcruxes in front of all his followers, and looked him in the eye as he proclaimed loyalty to him.
He dismissed the rest of them and simply stared. It was...an interesting situation.
The man recognized him as Harry Potter immediately. Older, yes. But there was no mistaking the scar, or the time turner.
He tilted his head.
"How fascinating." He remarked plainly. Harry beamed as if it were a compliment. "And I am to trust you as a follower, how, Harry Potter?"
"I will make a magical vow." He said, as if he was slurring his words just by being in his presence. "I will swear loyalty in front of all of them, officially."
"What of your original self?" He trailed a finger down his wand's length in contemplation and noticed Harry's eyes following. Interesting, interesting. "What do you desire the most, Harry?"
Harry smiled.
"Red and green." He explained. Voldemort blinked slowly. "Red anger, green envy, red love, green hate. I want it all and more."
He stood up. Voldemort kept his hand on his wand as the man walked closer, and closer, their faces nearly touching. "I can't help it, Tom." He murmured. "You fucked me up so much. We've been together for so many years and you just left me. How was I not supposed to want you back in my life?"
Voldemort was familiar with this play. He had experienced it from multiple older men and women in his lifetime, some younger now that he was in his seventies.
They were attracted to power. They thought that because he had power, he'd succumb to their sexual wiles and share it with him. That he'd think they were special.
But this was different.
A powerful man from the future had declared loyalty to him, with no desire to change him. If anything, he seemed attracted to the idea of fucking his mortal nemesis without a desire to cure the Voldemort from the Tom.
Voldemort hummed.
He spread his legs, slightly, watching as Harry's eyes followed.
He lifted his wand, flicking it slightly, and the lights went out one by one.
"Kneel."
He kneeled.
"Lift my robes."
He did so, reverently.
"Now," He smiled. "What is it that you desire, Harr---"
He was interrupted.
Mid-seduction, of all things.
Harry pulled him in a kiss, making his eyes go slightly wide at the sensation of the smaller man's tongue down his throat. But he was nothing if not adaptable.
He grabbed him by the head, pulling his head back roughly. "Did I give you permission to do that? To act as if we're intimate?""
"No." Harry, gasping at the sensation of pain. Pain, pain, pain. He missed this. "Please..."
"Please, what?"
"Please sir," He looked into Voldemort's eyes. "Let me fuck you."
---
If someone told Harry's teenage self that currently, his mortal nemesis was being fucked into a concrete throne by his future self, he would not only call you bonkers, he'd also contemplate the pros and cons of memory wiping himself.
But, that's whats happening. There's no escaping it.
Voldemort had his face buried into Harry's shoulder, the sensation of Harry's cock rubbing his insides getting to be too much. It wasn't that he was inexperienced, but its certainly been more than a few years since the last time he....
Well, since the last time he was aroused. Fighting a war was too distracting. Being a spectral was distracting.
Harry was blabbering how beautiful Voldemort was, even when Voldemort knew it wasn't true. He hadn't been beautiful in just as many years since his last intimacy. The horcruxes made sure of it.
"I'm coming." He moaned, and Voldemort wondered if maybe it was about time to give that release and was about to lift himself off the other man's body when Harry decided to come inside him.
It was an odd sensation. No one had ever wanted to be the dominant one in his past 'relationships', and the feeling of liquid going inside him was, for lack of better words, odd.
It somehow also made him feel complete.
His eyes narrowed in at the sight of Harry's scar bleeding and the blissed out expression on Harry's face. "I thought you said you no longer had the Hocrux in you?"
He opted for more important considerations than the fact that he had just been used as a sex doll, almost.
"I thought so." Harry said, now giddy. "How nice. I feel so good, Tom." He blinked into coherency. "Wait, doesn't that mean..."
"It means that you're definitely going to be mine for a little longer, Harry." Voldemort grinned sharply, pushing Harry's chin up with a tip of his finger and pulling him back into a kiss. "How fascinating, this sensation is."
He placed a hand on his thin stomach, musing about the sensation of feeling complete with all his Hocruxes in the same place, and then he felt it.
Harry was getting hard again.
"What a spoiled man."
Harry grinned.