Hi. I'm not all too sure about this one. If you could give me your opinions it would be greatly appreciated.
He crouched in his cupboard, cold dark eyes glinting an eerie green in the dim light. He glared out of the vent at the fat man outside, speaking happily to his too-thin wife and ruffling the hair of their spoilt, overweight son. It would have been the perfect image of a happy family except for the dark, hateful looks thrown at the small, insignificant-looking cupboard.
The green eyed child clenched his fists and promised to himself that he would never allow these monsters to hit him again. They would never have the satisfaction of getting to him again.
He kept to that rule even when he discovered he had magic.
Emotions were a weakness.
He was sure he had scared the giant man who had come to collect him from his gilded hell to go shopping for his things.
He was sorted into Slytherin. The hall was filled with gasps and mutters but the boy paid no attention. Face painfully blank, he approached the gleefully clapping Slytherin table and sat apart, ignoring the rest of his house.
The one thing going through the minds of quite a few of the staff, Albus Dumbledore included, was 'This is a broken child.'
Dumbledore's plans were now completely ruined. Harry Potter refused to participate in the Philosopher's Stone test. He merely kept to the shadows and out of the way until most of the school had forgotten about him and as a result Dumbledore himself had to stop Quirrell.
Ginny Weasley received the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle and became possessed by Lord Voldemort and dragged down to die alone in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry Potter did not fulfil the requirements the Dark Lord had set for him. He did, however, discover that he was a parslemouth and as a result he was further shunned by the school. He had no one to turn to and eventually stopped eating in the Great Hall.
No one noticed.
When third year rolled around, Harry ignored the mutters circulating the school about the escaped murderer who was after the little Slytherin. For Harry was little. His neglect had permanently stunted his growth so he would always be smaller than his peers but even without the neglect, Harry would have been small. His mother was quite petite, slim and small but made up for her height with her impressive skill and fiery temper. His father was also kind of short, smaller than Remus and Sirius but only slightly taller than Peter. He compensated his smaller stature by becoming larger than life in the school; champion seeker, mischief maker extraordinaire and defender of the weak.
Harry was always going to be small but unlike his parents he hid. He slunk in the shadows and watched from the sidelines, he did not cause trouble, he did not prove his magical worth, he did not become enraged easily and he had no friends to protect. Harry Potter worked hard and received excellent marks, surpassing those of Hermione Granger who spent hours holed up in the library. Harry did not scream his brilliance from the rooftops; he shyly accepted praise, his pale cheeks flushing and his Avada Kedavra eyes peeking up through his dark locks and thick lashes.
Harry met his godfather for the first time when he was on one of his many night-time walks through the Forbidden Forest. Harry had taken to exploring the forest towards the end of his first year. Nothing had ever bothered him. It was if they sensed something about him that made him forbidden. A forbidden boy in a Forbidden forest.
Harry had been lying on his back, mid-back length hair spread like a halo about his head and long fingers curled in the thick grass. His emerald eyes were staring up at the stars, pale angular face illuminated by the moon above. A large black dog slunk from the bushes at the edge of the clearing and padded on silent feet towards the small boy, who looked more like a nymph than a wizard and lay down beside him, large head rested on his paws and pale blue eyes watching the child.
"It's rather ironic." the child whispered in a voice that, while soft and beautiful, was also hoarse and rough with lack of use. The whisper was loud in the near silence of the clearing and Sirius cocked his head to the side as he watched his godson. The emerald eyes fell upon him and a small smile tugged at the very edges of his red lips. "The dog star." the boy continued, looking back up to the stars and seemingly oblivious to the way that Sirius's breath was coming shorter and shorter and his heart was pounding in his chest. His muscles tensed to run and against his will a small whine left his throat. Harry untangled one hand from the grass and entangled it in the fur of Sirius's neck instead. "Sirius. The scorcher. The dog. I know who you are Padfoot."
Sirius backed slowly away from his godson until Harry's fingers lost their grip on Sirius and the dog vanished to be replaced by a thin man, his skeletal face full of worry and suspicion and love and awe. "How did you know?" he whispered in his scratchy voice, also hoarse from disuse.
Harry smiled his distant gaze still on the stars. "I remember. Long days alone leave you with a lot of time to search your mind. I can remember a fair bit of my childhood and I remember you and Remus and Peter and Mummy and Daddy." his head tilted, long pieces of grass twining in his long hair. "Remus acts strange. Like he's hiding from me. I think he's scared because I'm so different and broken and scarred."
"Remus?" Sirius croaked. "Remus is here?"
Harry nodded vaguely and hummed an affirmative noise in the back of his throat. "Yes. Professor R.J. Lupin. Moony. Marauder. Werewolf. I remember Moony too. When he looks at me, he looks like he's going to cry. The look on his face is utter betrayal and guilt. He wishes he could have taken me in as a child rather than leave me to the mercy of the Dursleys. He was betrayed by you and Peter and Dumbledore who told him that I was a safe and happy child." his voice trailed off and his green eyes once again reflected the stars in their glazed depths.
"How do you know all this?" Sirius asked, kneeling carefully by Harry's head and looking down into the eerie green orbs.
Harry smiled slightly, he never smiled properly. Only half smiles, faint smirks or eyes absently lit in the parody of happiness. "It is astounding what people will reveal when they believe themselves alone."
Sirius laughed despite himself. His godson was quite frankly, creepy but that didn't bother him much. He had been a creepy child too and he thought that perhaps, he could laugh that trait out of Harry. "I know you're my godfather." Harry said suddenly after a moment's silence.
"Really?" Sirius whispered, unsure of where this was heading.
Harry nodded "Yeah, this summer. Could I...would I maybe…?"
Sirius had never heard the boy sound so nervous. "Did you want to come and live with me?" he asked. This was something he had wanted to ask ever since he had laid eyes on the small boy sitting silently on a swing in a park in the dead of night. He had thought for a moment that he had only been imprisoned for about ten years; Harry looked ten or eleven, not twelve going on thirteen.
Harry nodded, not making eye contact and a faint blush painting his pale cheeks. "If it's not too much trouble. The Dursleys would not miss me."
Sirius nodded enthusiastically, the smile which lit up his face hurting a bit because he hadn't smiled for years but ignoring the pain in favour of gently tugging Harry's chin so that he could make eye contact with those green eyes. "Of course you can! I would love to have you live with me!"
Harry smiled and it was a small smile yet it almost made Sirius's heart burst because it was a real smile, lighting up Harry's eyes and making his small features seem even more childish. Sirius reached a hand towards the boy intending to pull his godson into a hug but froze when Harry flinched violently. Sirius drew his hand back slowly, eyes on Harry's face which had turned away from him. Harry slowly turned his face back to Sirius and met his eyes evenly. "I'm sorry." he whispered so quietly that Sirius had to strain to hear it.
Sirius reached out again and gently lay a hand on Harry's hair. When the boy did not immediately throw him off, Sirius began to slowly stroke the long hair, so softly that he was barely touching it. Harry closed his eyes and Sirius sighed quietly. "No Harry, it's me who should be sorry."
When Harry first met Lord Voldemort he was not scared. He had been forced to participate in the farce of a tournament for fear of losing his magic and Sirius had been unable to get him out of the stupid event. So Harry had done his best to win. He was being forced to enter the damned tournament do he was going to try damn hard to win and prove all the bastards in charge that he wasn't a silly little boy hiding in the shadows behind his title and intimidating aura.
Harry had been portkeyed to a graveyard and had complied to participate in a rebirthing ritual. When Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron in a long black robe, his shoulder-length hair hanging dead straight about his ears and strange turquoise eyes observing his surroundings with naive curiosity, Harry had not been scared, not even when those eyes turned to him and he saw the red streaked through the iris'.
The Dark Lord moved towards Harry who leaned against the cold headstone, no longer tied, merely watching bemused. Voldemort reached out one long-fingered hand and stroked Harry's cheek. Harry closed his eyes as he felt the magic spark against his own. "You are not frightened little one?" Voldemort asks and Harry merely shook his head, the other's magic making him feel weak and light headed. "How very strange." the elder mused, eyeing the frankly beautiful boy before him. "Very strange."
When Harry Potter disappeared in the middle of the maze, taking the cup with him and did not return when the spell on the portkey-cup ran out, a panic erupted. When the Dark Mark reawakened on the arms of former Death Eater's arms many thought him dead. Only a handful mourned for the beautiful damaged child and the rest mourned their Saviour. The boy they all assumed would kill their foe.
The Death Eaters had grown accustomed to the small darkly cloaked figure who meandered around their Lord's manor, speaking only to the tall thin imposing figure that was their master. Over the next few years the pair grew closer until one evening when a meeting was called and the Death Eaters were greeted with the sight of the slim figure comfortably seated sideways on their Lord's lap, head laying in the junction between the pale neck and shoulder while the long spidery fingers of one hand ran through the long black hair and the other rested on the small amount of exposed skin on the boy's hip.
The tall man stood, carefully manoeuvring the boy in his arms and gently placing him in a smaller, previously unnoticed throne close beside his own where the slim figure curled up, laying his head on the arm and watching them with hooded green eyes. Voldemort ran his fingers loosely down the pale cheek with a soft smile before he turned to his servants. "This boy is mine. He is my bonded and you shall address him as such. No one is to harm him or forfeit your life. You will treat him as you would me."
The Death Eaters all prostrated themselves and murmured in unison. "Yes Master. Yes Young Master."
Snape reported his new knowledge to Dumbledore who frowned thoughtfully, eyes twinkling furiously as he planned to learn the identity of the poor young man who had obviously been coerced into Voldemort's bed. As Ron and Hermione, Head boy and girl blanched and grew pale at the idea of anyone being involved with...Him.
Over the next year the Death Eaters noticed their Lord becoming even more protective of his little bonded and the reason became obvious a few months later as the slim boy's stomach ballooned and he glided through the halls practically a beacon in the dim shadows of the halls as he glowed in happiness. Voldemort followed his little mate almost everywhere carrying him in his arms, seating him in his lap or lying next to him on the rich green grass the couple basking in the sunlight as the Dark Lord took every opportunity to kiss his love, his small angel and to cradle the growing belly in his longs fingers, worshipping the swelling skin as the smaller man blushed and giggled softly, twining his fingers in Voldemort's hair.
Dumbledore was captured and brought to the manor at the end of the war when the Young Master was eight months pregnant, his belly so obviously full of child and his angelic features peaceful and happy. Dumbledore was forced to his knees before the two thrones; Voldemort seated regally in his, wand held in one hand and the other twined with the smaller hand of his mate. The smaller male lay curled in his own throne, his dark cloak once more throwing his face into shadow and covering his protruding stomach.
"Tom, even if it's too late for you, why do you keep this young man with you?" Dumbledore sighed with disappointment shining in his blue eyes.
Voldemort laughed, releasing the smaller hand to run his hand through the long silky hair, pushing back the hood to show the delicate features to the prone Dumbledore and all of his followers, tied and strung from the back wall. The old man gasped in horror and Harry smiled serenely. "I came to Voldemort on my own. I went with him willingly and I love him." the words were spoken so softly that they all had to strain to hear them but once they did the Light all blanched in horror. Harry stood, accepting Voldemort's helping hand, his robes falling open over his shirt and trousers to show his bulging belly. Voldemort tucked the smaller boy into his side and gently caressed his belly and then the side of his face, turning it and pressing a chaste kiss to his plump red lips.
Harry smiled again, a smile that lit up his whole face and he cradled his large belly in his arms. "Harry!" Dumbledore gasped. "He's evil! You must get away from him!"
Harry allowed himself to be swept off his feet and into Voldemort's arms, laying his head on the strong shoulder. "Maybe he is evil, maybe not. I could be evil you know. Our childhoods were similar enough to be. As for getting away from him. Why would I abandon the one I love and leave my baby without a father?"
"You can give it away!" a voice cried from the midst of the Light supporters. "You can kill it before it becomes just like its father!"
Harry's face transformed. His angelic features, previously content and happy now became furious and disgusted. "I would never." he spat. "So what if it grows to be like its father. I would be proud!"
Dumbledore watched with tears on his face as the Death Eater killed his friends and allies and Voldemort backed into his throne, holding Harry in his arms as if he were the most perfect thing in the world. Just before his own life was ended, old age taking effect and sending him into cardiac arrest, Albus Dumbledore knew that Tom Riddle had finally done it. Found love and in the most unlikely person of Harry Potter.
One month later, exactly, Harridan Riddle gave birth to a healthy baby boy after eighteen long hours of labour during which he cursed like a sailor in five different languages, including parseltongue and broke Voldemort's hand three times.
Alexander Mortimer Riddle lay quiet in his mother's arms as his father cradled the younger man, reaching around his mother's sweaty form to stroke his tiny face. "I love you." Voldemort murmured to the wizard in his arms, pressing a kiss to the dark hair. Harry leaned back against his husband and smiled down at their son and knew then, in that moment that everything was perfect.
So whatcha think?