Only Happy When It Rains
One: Harry's Betrayal
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling and some corporations. I own nothing but the plot and some odd characterizations. Yes, I know they go OOC, but I can do whatever the hell I want, so get over it.
A/N: This is a Tom/Harry slash story, people. Don't like it? Don't read it. [] indicates thought.
Harry Potter was sitting in his room at Privet Drive. It was about three weeks before he would go back to Hogwarts for his sixth year and the summer had been the most boring yet.
At first, the Dursleys had made him work, but, after a well-timed letter from Sirius, they had taken to tactfully ignoring him. Which, though it was preferable to doing chores, made his summer dreadfully boring. He spent most of his time sitting in his room doing homework, reading, or gazing out the window.
Because he had a lot of time in which to think, some rather strange thoughts had begun to rattle around in his head. One of the most prominent of these was the fact that he wasn't certain if he agreed with the side he was on anymore. He'd thought very hard about the war during his long hours of solitude and several things had become almost distressingly obvious. All of this could be summed up with one statement: Albus Dumbledore was a manipulative, conniving, control freak, who had withheld information right from the start.
[The wonders of the wizarding world, the destiny people placed on me, the lies I was told regularly, and, most of all, the novel of being accepted blinded me. Well, not anymore, I am sixteen years old, an adult according to the laws of wizards, and I will not be manipulated anymore. From now on, I do not trust anyone to look out for me but me.]
It was a good decision, at least in Harry's opinion, and he promised himself that he would hold to it. He moved on to another topic of thought.
[Voldemort's side is starting to look better and better, his ideals actually make sense, unlike the ideals of my so-called side. As much as it would shock my associates, I'm beginning to understand his way of looking at things, and I like it more and more. I wonder if he would like my help. Ha! Wouldn't that be a lark? I'd damn near kill to see the looks on my associates' faces if I switched sides. That alone is almost sufficient reason to join Voldemort. Of course, we'd have to work some things out first, starting with the fact that I would not under any circumstances wear his dark mark. And I'd have to figure out a way of avoiding the pain I feel when I get to close to him, but I'm working on that regardless. Hmm, this idea is getting better by the second; I'm honestly considering it. Maybe I'll go through with it, the reactions I'd get would be priceless, and I like the power bit. What can I say? I'd like the power a high position in Voldemort's ranks would give me.]
"Boy!" Vernon called as he came into the room.
"Yes, Vernon?" Harry replied coolly.
"Dudley's school books have gone missing."
"So?"
"What did you do with them?"
"I didn't touch the damn things, he probably disposed of them himself. Gods know he hates studying. I fail to see how his stupidity is my fault."
"What?" Vernon roared, "How dare you, you little heathen!"
"Oh, shut up, won't you?" Harry rolled his eyes and returned to staring out the window.
Vernon sputtered incoherently for a moment before stomping out of the room.
[It's a wonder the ceiling didn't fall in on my head, what with that buffoon stomping around in here. What a moron, I didn't touch Dudley's goddamned books. It never ceases to amaze me, the level of stupidity in this household. And, worse, he broke my train of thought. Where was I? Ah, yes, joining Voldemort. I wonder if he'd allow me to call him Tom? Voldemort is simply hideous, dreadfully unfortunate. Tom may be simple, but at least it's not unattractive. Gods, I'm bored. And I still think that I ought to join him. Tonight I've got a rather one-track mind; I can't pull away from thoughts of changing sides. To be perfectly honest, were he to ask me to join him, I wouldn't say no.]
At that moment, the door to Harry's room burst open and, before Harry could react, a stunning spell hit him and he fell.
When Harry awoke, he was lying on a pallet in a small, stonewalled room; he was not alone.
"Hello, Harry Potter," Voldemort said pleasantly, "welcome back to the world of the living."
"Thanks," Harry muttered, rubbing his head; he realized that his scar didn't hurt.
"I see you've noticed my cure."
"Yes, thank you, that was so very inconvenient."
He raised his eyebrows at this; Harry noticed that he looked incredibly different from the last time he'd laid eyes on him.
[Which makes sense, as the last time we met was at the end of my fourth year. He's actually rather good looking, in a dignified sort of way. Did I really just think that? Ye Gods, I did, heaven help me.]
"Well, Harry. May I call you Harry?"
"Be my guest,"
"I have a proposition for you,"
"I'm listening," Harry tilted his head slightly to the right.
"To begin with, I happen to think you have the potential to be great, very great, I don't want to kill you. So, one last time, I'm offering you the opportunity to join me."
Harry didn't even have to think about it, he'd done all his thinking before, "Done."
"Fabulous,"
"Is there a protocol for this? Forms I have to sign? Promises I have to make? I'll do it all, but I won't wear your mark."
"I need you to swear loyalty to me, you may do so however you wish. And, in your case, I shan't make you bear my mark."
Harry nodded, drew in a breath, and said the fateful words that would change his whole world, "I, Harry James Potter, pledge my loyalty to you, Lord Voldemort, forever and without reservation. Will that do?"
"Quite," Voldemort held out his hand, "Welcome to the ranks, Harry, I'm happy to have you."
Harry smiled and took the offered hand.
One: Harry's Betrayal
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling and some corporations. I own nothing but the plot and some odd characterizations. Yes, I know they go OOC, but I can do whatever the hell I want, so get over it.
A/N: This is a Tom/Harry slash story, people. Don't like it? Don't read it. [] indicates thought.
Harry Potter was sitting in his room at Privet Drive. It was about three weeks before he would go back to Hogwarts for his sixth year and the summer had been the most boring yet.
At first, the Dursleys had made him work, but, after a well-timed letter from Sirius, they had taken to tactfully ignoring him. Which, though it was preferable to doing chores, made his summer dreadfully boring. He spent most of his time sitting in his room doing homework, reading, or gazing out the window.
Because he had a lot of time in which to think, some rather strange thoughts had begun to rattle around in his head. One of the most prominent of these was the fact that he wasn't certain if he agreed with the side he was on anymore. He'd thought very hard about the war during his long hours of solitude and several things had become almost distressingly obvious. All of this could be summed up with one statement: Albus Dumbledore was a manipulative, conniving, control freak, who had withheld information right from the start.
[The wonders of the wizarding world, the destiny people placed on me, the lies I was told regularly, and, most of all, the novel of being accepted blinded me. Well, not anymore, I am sixteen years old, an adult according to the laws of wizards, and I will not be manipulated anymore. From now on, I do not trust anyone to look out for me but me.]
It was a good decision, at least in Harry's opinion, and he promised himself that he would hold to it. He moved on to another topic of thought.
[Voldemort's side is starting to look better and better, his ideals actually make sense, unlike the ideals of my so-called side. As much as it would shock my associates, I'm beginning to understand his way of looking at things, and I like it more and more. I wonder if he would like my help. Ha! Wouldn't that be a lark? I'd damn near kill to see the looks on my associates' faces if I switched sides. That alone is almost sufficient reason to join Voldemort. Of course, we'd have to work some things out first, starting with the fact that I would not under any circumstances wear his dark mark. And I'd have to figure out a way of avoiding the pain I feel when I get to close to him, but I'm working on that regardless. Hmm, this idea is getting better by the second; I'm honestly considering it. Maybe I'll go through with it, the reactions I'd get would be priceless, and I like the power bit. What can I say? I'd like the power a high position in Voldemort's ranks would give me.]
"Boy!" Vernon called as he came into the room.
"Yes, Vernon?" Harry replied coolly.
"Dudley's school books have gone missing."
"So?"
"What did you do with them?"
"I didn't touch the damn things, he probably disposed of them himself. Gods know he hates studying. I fail to see how his stupidity is my fault."
"What?" Vernon roared, "How dare you, you little heathen!"
"Oh, shut up, won't you?" Harry rolled his eyes and returned to staring out the window.
Vernon sputtered incoherently for a moment before stomping out of the room.
[It's a wonder the ceiling didn't fall in on my head, what with that buffoon stomping around in here. What a moron, I didn't touch Dudley's goddamned books. It never ceases to amaze me, the level of stupidity in this household. And, worse, he broke my train of thought. Where was I? Ah, yes, joining Voldemort. I wonder if he'd allow me to call him Tom? Voldemort is simply hideous, dreadfully unfortunate. Tom may be simple, but at least it's not unattractive. Gods, I'm bored. And I still think that I ought to join him. Tonight I've got a rather one-track mind; I can't pull away from thoughts of changing sides. To be perfectly honest, were he to ask me to join him, I wouldn't say no.]
At that moment, the door to Harry's room burst open and, before Harry could react, a stunning spell hit him and he fell.
When Harry awoke, he was lying on a pallet in a small, stonewalled room; he was not alone.
"Hello, Harry Potter," Voldemort said pleasantly, "welcome back to the world of the living."
"Thanks," Harry muttered, rubbing his head; he realized that his scar didn't hurt.
"I see you've noticed my cure."
"Yes, thank you, that was so very inconvenient."
He raised his eyebrows at this; Harry noticed that he looked incredibly different from the last time he'd laid eyes on him.
[Which makes sense, as the last time we met was at the end of my fourth year. He's actually rather good looking, in a dignified sort of way. Did I really just think that? Ye Gods, I did, heaven help me.]
"Well, Harry. May I call you Harry?"
"Be my guest,"
"I have a proposition for you,"
"I'm listening," Harry tilted his head slightly to the right.
"To begin with, I happen to think you have the potential to be great, very great, I don't want to kill you. So, one last time, I'm offering you the opportunity to join me."
Harry didn't even have to think about it, he'd done all his thinking before, "Done."
"Fabulous,"
"Is there a protocol for this? Forms I have to sign? Promises I have to make? I'll do it all, but I won't wear your mark."
"I need you to swear loyalty to me, you may do so however you wish. And, in your case, I shan't make you bear my mark."
Harry nodded, drew in a breath, and said the fateful words that would change his whole world, "I, Harry James Potter, pledge my loyalty to you, Lord Voldemort, forever and without reservation. Will that do?"
"Quite," Voldemort held out his hand, "Welcome to the ranks, Harry, I'm happy to have you."
Harry smiled and took the offered hand.