Summary- Harry is swept to a graveyard at the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He expected fame, fortune, glory: all of the things that would come with placing his hand on the trophy beside Cedric Diggory's. Instead he found Lord Voldemort. He escapes with his life, but not before Voldemort discovers a terrible secret that will bind them together for all eternity.

AU-Canon divergence, Harrymort, mpreg, Grey!Harry, maybe a little Dark!Harry if the situation calls for it, mentions of smut, mentions of torture, non explicit, Light bashing, except the twins and Luna, Harry swears a lot, swearing

I know, I'm really bad at this. But FTGOUA will be finished by Feb 14 at the latest and I am almost done with the next chapter for Snakes Bite. I truly couldn't resist posting a new story.

Disclaimer: I am not the glorious Queen Rowling, much to my disappointment.

Parseltongue is underlined:)

"Kill the spare!" orders a high, cold voice.

A flash of green light, all too familiar, and Cedric falls to the ground dead.

"Cedric!" I cry uselessly.

I look around for the voice but find no one except Wormtail. I stare at him in hatred, wishing desperately that I could steal his breath away the way he stole Cedric's. He's worse than a rat, not even a man, lower than the lowest of all life forms. I hate him with every fiber of my being. He is a weak and cowardly man incapable of loyalty. I could kill him right now. I could. I should. I've never truly felt hate for anyone besides Wormtail and the Dursleys. He betrayed my parents. He condemned me to the Dursleys.

I laugh to myself. I've never felt this much toward Voldemort himself, who I suspect is here and pulling the strings. I've only ever tried to escape him, never to harm him. I don't agree with what his followers do, but at the same time there's no love lost between me and the Muggles.

Of course the Light side's Golden Boy would never think those things, so I've kept them to myself. I've been thinking to myself that I may not be their "Golden One."

I mostly trip my way into a crouch behind a grave. There's no use in dying before I can get to Wormtail. Or safety. Whichever happens first.

The cold, unforgiving surface of the headstone bites against my fingers. All of my veins pulse with heat, with anger, with the desire to escape and to cause as much harm as I can. I want blood. That's another thing I'm not supposed to think about. My job is to stay innocent, to stay cowed, and to feel guilty about fighting. But they don't own me. They don't know me. They suspect nothing. I was almost a Slytherin for a reason, after all.

My body flies through the air and smashes painfully against a tall marble stone. I clench my jaw and grimace but before I can stand Wormtail rushes forward and with a single word, coiled rope winds itself around me. My scar pulses and begins to bleed.

Voldemort isn't..a part of him, the way he was with Quirrell, is he?

"Let me go!? I shout.

He walks away from me instead. No Voldemort, then.

Grunting as though he's doing hard work, Wormtail moves into my field of vision, which is severely limited due to the way my glasses are tilted across my face. He pushes a large stone cauldron, big enough to bathe in, until it rests in the center of the graves and fallen brambles. He places the bundle that must be Voldemort inside almost lovingly. I struggle for breath as I push against my bindings and squirm against the cold marble of the grave I'm pressed against.

Wormtail says something but I can't focus on the words as he drops a small bone into the cauldron. He picks up a small twig and lifts his wand.

What is he doing?

He scurries to me and cuts a long gash down my arm with a small knife. I suppose that used to be the twig. I let out a shout as he drops the bloody knife into the frothing, steaming cauldron. Before I can look away he chops off his hand in one fell swoop, screaming in pain with joyous eyes. His bloodied stump drips on the ground. I stare in horrified awe. He doesn't seem to notice that he's probably going to bleed to cauldron almost immediately begins to bubble over. The purest gold mixed with a deep blood red falls to the ground. Wormtail tears his eyes away from the spectacle to stare at me in bewilderment.

"It..couldn't be," he says.

I stare in horror and fascination as Voldemort climbs out. He's so very pale with shining red eyes and snake like nostrils. He's thin, almost dangerously so, and completely naked. He stands there like it's nothing to be so exposed in front of me. I stare at him, dragging my eyes down his slender body slowly. I should fear this form, but I can't.

"I have returned," he says dramatically while Wormtail dresses him.

"Wow, didn't notice," I say.

He looks at his long, long fingers as he drags them down his tall, slender body as though examining himself. I'd like to make him a platter of sandwiches. I laugh to myself at the notion. He walks to me, draped in long, dark robes and gazes into my eyes.

"You would do well to respect me, boy," he says.

I try to lean backwards but am stopped by the ropes and the headstone at my back.

"I'm not afraid of you," I hiss angrily.

"What was that?"he asks, "Say it again."

My voice shakes a little but I repeat myself. His smile is almost beastly. I underestimated him.

"The protection that once ran through your veins alone is now shared with mine. You should be frightened. See," he says while tracing my scar, "I can touch you now."

My scar pounds against my skull like it wants to join its master. Colors fly across the air, reds and blues as I try to make him stop. It's like fireworks meeting grenades over and over again. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I want it to stop. I need it to stop. It no longer hurts when he touches me, that would make things easy for me, and we can't fucking have that, can we? It feels marvelous. I pant raggedly.

And it flows. My thoughts and dreams slide through my mind like a film reel and I can't stop it from happening. I watch as Voldemort tries to kill me and I watch as I stab the diary. I see my ink covered hands, and for the first time I see it as blood. I feel something I didn't notice before as I was dying, my scar tingling and relaxing like it felt more whole. But why?

And then I see him when he was Tom Riddle and not some ridiculous pomped up name. I see him crouching under an orphanage. I wonder why but then it comes to me. War. Bombings. I see him bullied and tortured by Muggles. I see his face full of angry tears and my heart breaks. He lets me go immediately, pulling his hand back as though it were stung.

"Stop!" I shout, though for what I don't know. He looks as stunned as I, and he's no longer touching me.

"Yes, I can touch you. I see now. You are mine," Voldemort says.

"I would never! Don't say that!" I protest weakly.

He slices through my restraints with one hand and I fall to the ground in a dizzy heap. He looks down at me with a smirk on his face. Quite unconvincingly as well. Sharing a mind for what felt like several minutes may have had an effect on my ability to lie to him. Or something, I don't fucking know.

"Wormtail, come here!" Voldemort says.

When the world rights itself I see that he's summoned his followers to watch. He tosses my wand at the ground in front of me.

"Prove me wrong, Harry Potter. Prove you do not belong to me. Stand and fight," he says.

I climb to my feet with my wand held tightly in my fist. I'm not afraid of him. I pity him because of what I've seen. I wonder what I'd be if I faced what he did. I need to focus on escape. Destroying him is not my goal today.

The world shakes beneath me and the clouds darken. My heart twists into a knot.

Destroying him is not my goal at all.

I look him in the eyes and shout, "Expelliarmus!"

OoOoOoO

"I knew they wouldn't convict you, Harry. You had the law on your side," Mr. Weasley says as I walk out of the trial room.

Why is Dumbledore ignoring me? He didn't look in my direction one time during the trial. I haven't seen him around the headquarters, either. Is it my fault? Is he staying away because of something I've done? Maybe he knows about what happened during the duel in the graveyard. Maybe he knows why our wands connected like that. Maybe he knows about what happened when Voldemort touched my face. Maybe Voldemort was right when he said..

I shiver.

"I'm excited for dinner, aren't you? Molly's making meatballs," Mr. Weasley says, "she's brilliant at meatballs."

Dumbledore knows. I'll bet he knows and he's disgusted. He regrets believing a single word I've ever said. He knows that I sympathize with and pity Voldemort. He knows I'm not sure about the Light side. He knows that I thought Diary Tom was attractive. (He was.) He wonders if maybe I am the Heir of Slytherin. Or the Heir of Slytherin's heir. Is that what I am? Is that why I can speak Parseltongue? Is it?

"That phone booth we went through, how does it work when Muggles use it?" Mr. Weasley asks.

That's it! He regrets trusting me. He misses his fancy titles and he thinks everything has always been my fault.

"They've almost got a magic of their own, don't they?" Mr. Weasley asks.

And it has been, hasn't it? If I hadn't tried to be so courteous and just touched that Portkey before Cedric, he'd be alive. He'd be alive and maybe Voldemort wouldn't believe he owns me.

"I expect you're a bit shocked, Harry, but it was always going to go that way in the end," Mr. Weasley says after we've walked nearly to the elevator again without my saying a word.

I feel badly that I can't seem to focus on what he's saying. I know that he wants to have a conversation with me, but I'm too distracted to participate.

Lucius Malfoy stands, shaking hands with the Minister of Magic, blocking our way to the elevator.

"What are you doing here?" Mr. Weasley asks.

"I came to deliver a message," Mr. Malfoy says while looking directly into my eyes, "to the Minister, not that it's any of your business."

The pause felt intentional. He quickly fists his hand over his heart before barely lowering his head, a movement the others miss because they're exchanging pleasantries.

"Hello, Potter," he says.

My mouth drops open in shock. He's addressing me? And why the bow?

"Hello, sir," I say automatically.

I could wonder at myself, but I don't have much time to. After saying goodbye to the Minister, Mr. Malfoy brushes past both of us. As he does, he slips something into my hand. I almost drop it in surprise and from lack of time to react, but I don't. If Mr. Weasley were to spot it he would take it away from me. The Minister nods and walks away. If he had noticed the point of a secret exchange would be ruined.

Maybe I should give it to someone. Throw it away, at least. But I know that whatever is in this piece of parchment is going to change everything. I slip it into my pocket. This may be a mistake. But hey, I wasn't almost a Slytherin for nothing. Or something like that. I laugh to myself.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley. Meatballs sound brilliant."