"The Only Way We Can"
By: Setsuna-X
Summary: Everything is a vicious cycle, but Voldemort and Harry learn to deal with it the only way they can.
Pairing: Implied Harry x Voldemort
Warning: Mentions of blood, light torture, slash (boy x boy)
Notes: This is a OneShot and will remain so. This takes place in no discernable timeline and is pre-HBP.
"Why does it always end up this way?!" Voldemort roared at the shivering, naked form huddled in the corner. Crimson trails slithered down a pale, heavily whipped back. He gripped his raven hair tightly in his hands as his magic rose because of his anger.
Soft cries answered his question. No matter how long they were together, or how passionate their lovemaking was it always came back to the same thing.
Harry drew a shuddering breath as he tried to control his sobs. He dug his palms into his eyes, trying to forcefully hold back the tears that wanted to spill from his emerald eyes.
"I don't know," whimpered the broken Boy-Who-Lived.
Voldemort's glare only intensified as his magic whirled around him. "You make me do this, Harry! You're the one that drives me to this!" yelled the Dark Lord, his crimson eyes blazing.
Harry whirled around, his own eyes blazing into Voldemort's. "I don't do it on purpose! You just can't control yourself! Look at what you do to me!" Harry stood suddenly, his head dizzy at the movement. He pointed to the very obvious marks around his naked body. Welts and open wounds still bleeding were all over his torso and legs. Bruises of different colors were on his chest and stomach, while dried cum was sticking to the inside of his thighs. "Do you actually think I want to look and feel like this?!" yelled out the teen.
Voldemort's eyes widened as he finally took in all the wounds on his young lovers' body. Did he really do all that? Did he really damage and hurt his precious little serpent? He felt a wash of guilt fill him as his crimson eyes stopped smoldering.
"Harry?" brokenly cried out the Dark Lord as he reached out his hands toward the Golden Boy. He seemed hesitant in touching Harry, scared that if he did he'd only hurt the boy more.
Harry's eyes were still blazing, yet he flinched when Voldemort called out to him. No one would ever believe that a Dark Lord and leader of the Wizarding World would ever sound that broken and pathetic. Harry inwardly grinned knowing that he was the only one privy to this side of the feared Dark Lord. Sometimes the pain his body received was worth the desolate and lost look in those crimson orbs.
Voldemort's own face fell as he noticed Harry flinching from him. The damage was done and this wasn't even the first time that it had happened. Harry just made him so mad sometimes that he couldn't control himself.
"Come here, Harry," began the Dark Lord again, "please?" he added, still feeling that heavy guilt in his stomach. Harry looked at him, appraising him and evaluating if the Dark Lord was worth all the pain and suffering. Hesitantly Harry took a small step forward, his naked form shivering from the cold. The steps were slow as he was still hurt, but he eventually made it into Voldemort's open arms. Harry curled around the taller man's chest, resting his head onto the black robes. Voldemort's arms slowly drew around Harry, bringing the young man closer to him as he held on tightly, afraid that Harry would leave him. He was all he had left.
It was pathetic really; Harry was 'all he had left'? He wished that he could scoff at the idea, but it was true. The Wizarding World had crumbled and bowed before him. Years had passed since he took over and the only constant was Harry. Dumbledore, his trusted Death Eaters like Lucius, Bellatrix, Avery, Goyle, Crabbe, even those incompetent fools at the ministry—all of them were gone. Years and time had finally beaten them all. All of them except his Harry and himself.
His horcruxes had insured his immortality, and since Harry was also a precious horcrux, it insured that he was immortal as well. The only oddity was that Harry hadn't aged pass the age of 17. The boy still looked in his prime, a young man entering adulthood. Then again it shouldn't have come as a surprise. He himself only looked about his early 30's. Dark, wavy hair covered his head and his body was now more human than monster. He believed that their youthfulness and resulted from when Harry had killed Nagini. It wasn't a pleasant memory, but he could still recall it so clearly.
Harry had somehow made it into his encampment. Probably after seeing all those visions he was able to tell where his base was. Nagini was always around him, always following him around, but not that night. That was an odd occurrence in and of itself. He was in his study when he heard his own voice speaking parseltongue.
Concerned and surprised he made his way to his bedroom where he saw the door was open and the lights were on. He heard his voice once more. As he pushed open the door he heard Harry yell out a vessel-destroying charm on his beloved familiar. The snakes' hiss filled the air as a sharp shriek soon followed, his own soul destroyed because it no longer had a vessel to hold it in.
Harry had looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes, but he knew there was also a deep satisfaction in those emerald orbs. The fact that Nagini, Harry, and he were all living, breathing vessels was probably why the soul pieces reacted the way they had. The room had filled with a bright, blue light as it engulfed both him and the boy hero, persevering their present image.
"Come, let's go back to bed and get you healed up," said Voldemort as he picked up Harry bridal-style. Harry let out a shriek, the movement catching him off-guard. He then curled his arms around Voldemorts' neck, making sure to hold on.
"Hurry," he mumbled against the Dark Lords neck, the small, hot puff of air causing Voldemort to stumble. Only Harry could do this to him.
Voldemort made it to the room in record time. He gently placed Harry onto the silk-sheeted bed and watched as they became darker because of the blood still seeping from his wounds.
"Miffy!" called the Dark Lord as a house elf popped in soon.
"Yes, Master?"
"Bring me some pain relieving potions, along with several blood replenishing potions, salve, and bandages. All of them are in the potions storage."
"Yes, Master!" the elf bowed her head as she disappeared once again. Harry looked at Voldemort under hooded eyes, still silently evaluating.
Sometimes he wished he would just die already. He wanted to join his mother and father, Sirius, Hermione and Ron, the rest of the Weasleys and the Order in death. Why was Voldemort still torturing him, making him live all this time without his friends and the people he cared about? It was all so painful. Many times he had tried to escape his fate, but he never managed it. There was always someone stopping him. Voldemort, a house elf, a random Death Eater – all stopped him from the one thing he really wanted.
Yet there were other times he was so happy to be alive that everything else didn't matter. To be wrapped up in Voldemort's blistering love was something that he never thought he would ever feel. He was a freak, a murderer, and unwanted little boy from the cupboard under the stairs, but with Voldemort he was beautiful, and needed, and wanted and it filled him with such happiness that he would give all of himself to Voldemort if the Dark Lord promised to remain with him always, to cherish and love him forever.
The house elf appeared once more, all the items floating behind her. They gently laid themselves out onto the small table near the bed.
"You may go."
The house elf simply nodded and disappeared once more.
"Can you sit up Harry?" Harry simply nodded, but Voldemort helped him up since he struggled. "Here, drink up," he said as he passed the young Gryffindor the potions one after the other.
"Ugh, yuck! I always told Snape that potions tasted like crap. I wish he had found a way to make them taste better before dying," said Harry with little feeling. Voldemort just tightly smiled.
"Lie back down, I need to clean and wrap your wounds."
"Are you sure you don't want to just leave them to fester so I finally learn?" angrily asked Harry as he complied anyway. Voldemort flinched, but at the same time he became angry as well. Couldn't Harry see that he was trying to make amends?! Why did the teen have to be so difficult?
"I'm sure," smoothly answered the crimson-eyed man.
Harry felt bad and guilty all of a sudden. Sure he was angry at Voldemort, but at the same time he didn't want to fight with the man. Why couldn't they ever get along fully? There was always something that made them go in this vicious circle.
There were times when Voldemort just got so angry at Harry that he would not only magically, but physically hurt Harry. The previous wounds are evidence of that. After the punishment Voldemort would immediately regret his actions and the man was always frightened that Harry would not take him back, but Harry always did. It was just because he knew he needed the other man as well.
It was a very bad cycle they were on, but what else could they do? They were the only ones left from the old world. Things were so different now and everything was on a progressive track. Harry found himself falling behind the times and it scared him to see that he didn't belong in either the Muggle nor Wizarding worlds. The only anchor he had was Voldemort and he was very reluctant to leave the man. Inside the manor he was safe from the world. Inside the manor he was protected from the obligations of being the Boy-Who-Lived. Inside the manor he was just Harry, Harry the boy in love and in hate with the Dark Lord.
Other times Harry hated Voldemort for that. If the Dark Lord would have just killed him back then he wouldn't be feeling like he was now. It was always so confusing being with Voldemort, but he had to admit that at least there wasn't a dull moment.
Harry allowed himself to be healed by the Dark Lord. All this time and Voldemort still hadn't mastered healing spells. It was probably because they were Light spells and the Dark Magic that Voldemort wielded was the obvious counter to that.
After wrapping and healing each wound to the best of his ability Voldemort placed a soft kiss on top of the bandage. Harry was currently lying on his stomach, Voldemort finally finishing with the healing and bandaging of the wounds on his back.
"I'm sorry, Harry," intoned the older wizard as he laid his head atop of Harry's back.
"It's alright, I'm sorry too," Harry replied, wanting to get their fight over with so they could get back to more pleasurable endeavors. "Hey, get off me will you," the teen commanded.
Voldemort complied and Harry turned over, lying on his back once more. Harry could see pain in those deep red orbs. He sighed.
"Oh come here," said Harry as he opened his arms and drew them around Voldemort's neck. Harry pulled the older wizard atop of him and kissed him softly, letting the older male know that he was once again forgiven.
"I don't deserve you," Voldemort sighed out as he stared into emerald eyes deeply.
"Yeah," whispered back Harry, but with a smile, "but I deserve you."
End.
A/N: This is me not doing all the homework I should be. I needed to write an HPxLV fic since that's all I've been reading lately and I was sort of inspired. Hoped you liked it!