Lord Voldemort's son cannot be simple. Especially when the person closest to a mother figure for him is Bellatrix Lestrange. Young Harrison's journey in life with the Dark Lord as his father. Dark!Harry
Beta: Julie. fjad
a/n Two chapters will be posted as a Prologue. I wish I could keep it in one, but they needed separating, so you get two chapters in one day. Story told from several POVs. No non-con, no rape. Rating M.
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Family Matters
Chapter One
Whiskey and Wine
November 1979
It was a normal, typical day, filled with boring blabbering of his faithful, but immensely obtuse followers, and for once, Lord Voldemort wished something would happen to drag him from the dullness surrounding him. His followers, the manor...he wanted peace if only for a moment. The house was large and cold, the so-called Slytherin Manor missing any warming touch of a human being. He didn't really care though, so he hadn't changed anything when he acquired it from goblins. Maybe he would later...
He was so bored. He wanted—needed!—something new, something special…
He was lost in his thoughts, not listening , trying not to overdo it with the Cruciatus for today— he wasn't sure but Crucio probably damaged not only the nerves, but the intellect as well. If one possessed it at all.
"My Lord?" Nott was one example of someone who had none to begin with.
"What is it, Nott?" Voldemort directed his gaze to Adamus Nott, while refusing to give in to the twitch of his wand. He didn't know who enjoyed Crucio more—him, or his wand. "Speak."
He needed to talk to someone as brilliant as him because giving one-word orders every day was damaging even to his extensive vocabulary. Unfortunately, he was all by himself in the world of the retarded.
The Death Eater was bowing, while holding a shimmering glass bottle in his left hand. The bottle was deep red in colour and the little light in the room reflected on the crystal surface, giving it an ethereal glow.
"My Lord, may I be so bold and present you with Nott family's most treasured wine?" Adamus almost didn't stutter and Voldemort smiled a tiny bit, bringing tremors to Nott's bowing body.
He did not smile, and he didn't do the eye twinkle. He wasn't Dumbledore. When he smiled, people screamed, it was that simple.
Voldemort levitated the glass bottle closer to him, to inspect it with magic, and upon detecting no signs of poison or magic on or in the bottle, he opened it.
The aroma of the wine was intriguing:the grapes' smell was sweet, and with the addition of something—was it orange and jasmine?—it wasn't something he had drank before, so with a wave of his hand, a fine goblet appeared and was instantly filled with the rich wine.
"Out."
He saw Nott wanting to say something else, but wine was better company than the retards.
"All of you, out!"
If he had to repeat himself one more time, it was going to be accompanied with Crucio.
It seemed that all the Death Eaters came to the same conclusion, as a second later, Lord Voldemort found himself alone in the room, enjoying the wine.
xxx
The floor was cold—marble—and very uncomfortable, Voldemort decided while lying there in the heaps of his majestic robes. He didn't know how he ended up on the floor—he only vaguely remembered trying to get up.
The empty goblet was lying near his eyes, and Voldemort looked closer at his reflection. Red eyes, handsome face, black hair, stupid grin. What?! He did not grin, at least not so stupidly. Shivering in disgust, he moved his right hand, and with immense force dragged himself into a sitting position. The world was spinning, and the Dark Lord closed his eyes, which didn't help at all.
He was obviously extremely drunk, and when he would returned to the world of functioning wizards, there would be no Notts left. Ordering the almost full bottle of Nott's finest wine to float to him—his thanks would be Avada Kedavra in the face of one Adamus Nott—Voldemort tried to concentrate enough in order to read the small print on the label. The letters were not behaving , jumping and swirling while he tried to read, but he still managed to understand what was written there. He shouldn't have been this careless from the beginning, however… what was done was done.
"3 drops solution for 1 litre of water to produce Nott Family's fine wine."
Well…shit. He normally didn't swear, but then he normally didn't drink himself into such a stupor.
He drank a whole goblet which was around 250ml, and thus much more than 3 drops. The whole Nott family had been retards, it seemed. Why just not put the wine in the glass bottle, instead of concentrating it?
He would not be using sobering spell, as it had nasty effects when combined with wizarding alcohol, so the other solution was to get out of here, into the fresh air. In a few hours he'd be sober anyway, and the day had been excruciatingly boring, so maybe it wasn't all that bad. He couldn't allow his Death Eaters to see him like that—he'd then have none left—and gathering all his magic, Lord Voldemort apparated away, hoping he wouldn't splinch himself in the process.
He'd sent the rest of the bottle to Dumbledore, so that the old codger would fall off any Hogwarts stairs and spare him the time and energy necessary to get rid of the senile old fool.
xxx
Well, maybe this was going to be fun, Lord Voldemort thought while carefully moving closer to the wizarding tavern that stood near several magical buildings. At least it was quiet here. He wasn't in Diagon Alley, but somewhere among the wizards, and he wasn't sure where exactly he was, until he saw the sign on the tavern.
Great.
Just marvellous.
"Godric's boots".
He was in the Godric Hollow. Out of every possible wizarding village, his magic brought him here.
Nott was dead.
Putting a glamour over his red eyes, Voldemort opened the door—leaning heavily on the doorframe for a second—and stepped in. If it all went downhill, he'd just kill everyone and be done with it.
xxx
She was on her fifth glass of wine—on an empty stomach—when someone almost graciously—almost because the person was as drunk as she was—seated himself two chairs away from her, ordering Firewhisky.
Her red hair was in her face, and through the curtain of it, Lily looked the newcomer over. She didn't want to see any of her friends, and she sighed in relief when she didn't recognize the man.
He was very tall, very well dressed—the cloak had to be velvet with silk—and very handsome. Black hair, refined face and shining dark eyes. Lily understood she could see the eyes because the man was looking at her now.
"Hi," she half-happily mumbled while finishing her glass of wine, reaching for a new one. Blasted James! Blasted Sirius!
The man looked at her for a few more seconds before turning to his own glass, not saying a word.
Rude.
"I am not drunk," Lily started the conversation again, not really knowing why she was being so talkative.
That was a lie. It was the sixth glass of wine and those Marauders who had tried to kill Severus in the shack, and she had found out only today. Too late.
"I can see that," the man half-sneered at her before downing the whole glass, ordering a new one.
"You'll be very drunk if you drink so fast," Lily offered, while reaching for her seventh glass this evening.
The man was looking at her again, and for a second her drunk eyes caught a red glint in the gaze of the newcomer. She needed more wine.
"Look who's talking." The man was looking at her now, and Lily smiled a shy smile. "My friends are retards, I have the right to drink myself stupid today." She either had to drink, or she'd be running after the nasty four with her wand raised. How could they have been so stupid, and she hadn't known!
Something like recognition—or was it sympathy?—shone in the man's eyes, and Lily felt goosebumps on her skin when he turned around, facing her now. "I can totally relate to that." His voice was very nice as well, Lily noticed, while trying not to think of James. And Sirius. And Severus.
"I am surrounded by obtuse adults who think they are smart, when they actually lack any brain matter." Lily choked on her drink in laughter at the man's comment.
"I am Lily," she offered, raising her eight glass in greeting.
A few seconds went by, before the man raised his own. "Marvolo."
xxx
She forgot all about James, Sirius, Severus and her murder plans, fully enjoying the conversation with Marvolo, and her— eleventh?— glass of wine. They were now seated in a darker corner, talking about topics that made Lily's soul sing. Not one of her friends had been able not only to follow her theories on Charms, but to make her speechless with the amount of knowledge he had. Marvolo was probably the smartest man she had ever known. Even when drunk, she could appreciate intellect.
"As I understand, it's not Charms theory that made you drink yourself into almost oblivion today?" Lily looked at Marvolo, who was sitting casually in his chair, his magnetic personality reaching out to her, making herself open up.
"I found out today that my husband, together with his friends, tried to kill another friend of mine while we all were at school, and I never knew! I would have done something. Something!" Lily almost sobbed the last part before finding redemption in her wine glass. Again.
"Interesting." Was all that Marvolo said, twirling his drink between long, slender fingers, before adding with curiosity, "Gryffindor?"
Lily raised her eyebrow at the correct assumption and nodded, asking back, "Ravenclaw?"
She saw mirth and amusement in the dark eyes, when Marvolo offered with a smile, "Slytherin."
"Oh." Well then, not every Slytherin was a Death Eater. She didn't comprehend that she had said it out loud and was about to profoundly apologize when Marvolo laughed.
"Not a Death Eater nor will I ever become one." His eyes were dancing with emotions Lily had problems to place, probably being too drunk already. Mirth was definitely one she could recognize.
"I'm glad to hear it," Lily finally answered, smiling at an amused Marvolo. She liked him.
Maybe a bit too much.
xxx
She didn't know who started it. When they came outside to get some fresh air in the dark, cold night, Lily found herself against the wall, kissing Marvolo with abandon.
Everything was in a drunken haze, fueled with alcohol, anger and lust. Hard thrusts followed by her moans was everything she could hear and feel, her orgasm approaching rapidly.
"Marvolo!" She whispered his name when they came at the same time, and only then she understood what she had done.
No...
NO!
James…
Despair, guilt and self hate didn't allow her to breathe, and Lily fell down onto the cold ground, the warm hands of Marvolo not there anymore.
She didn't know how she would explain it to Marvolo, but there would be nothing between them, except for this crazy night. She loved James more than life, and she had cheated on him, like some cheap whore, against a wall with a stranger.
"Gryffindors." Lily heard the now mocking tone, and raised her teary, green eyes to look at Marvolo, who was now fully dressed and was twirling his bone-like wand in her hand.
"I- I love my husband," Lily managed to get out, mesmerized by the twirling wand.
"I don't really care," Marvolo breathed out, looking at her with total indifference, before leaning closer. "Do you know why I'll never be a Death Eater, Lily?"
She shook her head, her red hair flying around.
Marvolo's wand was now directed at her, and as Lily looked at him, she screamed.
Red eyes. RED!
"Because I am the Dark Lord, you idiot girl." Marvolo—no, Voldemort!—laughed at her, and before she could do anything, she heard the spell, and blacked out.
"Obliviate!"
xxx
On the 31st of July 1980, after hours of unbelievable pain, Lily was finally able to open her tired, green eyes and look at her baby.
He was so wonderful—with the brightest green eyes she had ever seen and a mop of black hair—Lily could do nothing but weep with joy, just like James was, sitting near her, lightly touching his child's hair.
Our Harrison.
Our son.
xxx
October 1981
It was purely by accident that he stumbled into the hidden passage. He was looking for Salazar's portrait that didn't respond to magic, when one of the walls moved and Voldemort found himself in the ancestry room, his family tree shining before his red eyes. Curiously, his fingers traced thousands of years of history before removing a bit of dust closer to his name. It was a second later the red eyes became lucid and alert, urgently tracing a line that was moving down from his name. There, under Tom Marvolo Riddle, was another name. Shaking his head in denial, eyes blazing with fury, Lord Voldemort traced the new name.
Harrison James Potter.
The image of a redhead woman with beautiful green eyes flashed in his head.
Oh Lily, Lily...Idiot Gryffindor thinking she could hide away what was his.
Looking around the room that was now damaged through an explosion of his magic that he had only been vaguely aware of, red eyes shone with promise of pain and suffering.
Glancing again at the name under his own, Voldemort suddenly started to laugh.
He had a son now. And said son would be in his care as soon as possible.
His Harrison Marvolo Gaunt.
If the boy was powerful, he would forever and ever be only his.
His most faithful.
Hisss.
xxx
a/n Reviews and constructive criticism are very welcome.