Chapter three! Woot! I'm on a roll. Even though I'm supposed to be sleeping…Hm. My muse would kill me if she knew what time it was. We have work tomorrow after all. ;; Sorry hun! I hope you all don't mind how this skips around. I know it would probably bug me.
Disclaimer: Nada.
Chapter Three
Harry burrowed into his Master's arms when he saw where they were headed. It was a Ministry Safe House. They had been established just after Voldemort had taken power for peace talks and the like. He supposed that it made sense for them to go there. It was just…odd. Something about the place just unsettled him. The Dark lord tucked his cloak around him, much like a loving parent would do to their child. He was lead up the stairs, their Elite faceless and silent behind them. They moved like shadows. Voldemort wouldn't usually bring them but now that Harry was traveling with him, he wanted to be sure his Consort was safe. The door swung open to admit them into the warmth the house had to offer. The inside was done in a series of tasteful lilacs and soft greens. All of the candelabras were silver. His Master led him gently to the door across the foyer. It too swung open to reveal a sight that made Harry grip his lover's arm hard, hoping for at least one consistency. Inside sat his old mentor and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. He was so shocked into stupor that he didn't notice that his Master settled him into a chair, making him comfortable. The Order all looked just as surprised when Voldemort lowered his hood so all could see him. Hermione and Ron gasped.
"My Consort will be joining us the evening. I trust all of you remember the rules." The center of his universe purred and settled on the couch around him.
Harry found himself laying his head on his chest quite willingly much to his Master's pleasure. This was not familiar. This strange sensation. His Master was. Voldemort had very successfully made himself the sun and the moon of Harry's world. Arthur Weasley was turning red with anger at the Dark Lord. Dumbledore's eyes were cold as diamonds.
"You told us that Harry was dead, Tom. What is the meaning of this?" The man asked sternly.
A wide grin spread across Voldemort's face.
"I lied." He said flippantly, running a hand through Harry's hair, "My little Darkness is very much alive as you can see."
He planted a kiss to the scar on the teen's forehead. His friends looked angry and ill. Harry couldn't help but feel that they were angry at him. If they knew that he was carrying the Dark Lord's child…they would hate him. They would feel disgusted to ever have known him. He buried his face in his Master's neck, unable to look at them any more.
"What are you thinking, Dumbledore? That name cannot harm me. I have won. I have what I want. The Ministry, my empire, my Consort and my heir on the way."
Dumbledore's eyes widened exponentially. Molly let out a sob.
"Heir…?"The Headmaster breathed in disbelief.
Voldemort rubbed Harry's belly gently with a wicked grin, looking the Headmaster square in the eyes.
"We're having a baby."
At his words, Harry shuddered and the Other took his place. Everyone in the room felt the change in the air. He looked at the Order with his own smirk, wrapping his lover's arms tighter around him.
"I don't think they're happy to see us, my love." He chuckled darkly, bringing the man down for a heated kiss.
The Headmaster shot out of his seat furiously.
"What did you do to him, Tom?!"
He couldn't help it. He laughed at the old man. Voldemort smirked at the Headmaster's anger. His Elite had tensed, ready to spring into battle at a moment's notice. Shade was curling a piece of his love's newly regenerated hair around one finger. If they had been alone, the Dark Lord would have reveled in the sensation.
"I have done quite a bit to him, Albus. You will have to be more specific than that."
Shade was enjoying the expressions on the Order's faces, especially the ones that Harry had known. The look on the Headmaster's face could kill. Shade just ran a hand through Voldemort's hair. What did HE care if Dumblefuck was mad?
"Where is the real Harry? Stop playing games!" He growled.
His pigeons all looked horrified. Voldemort slipped a hand up the back of Shade's shirt, tracing little circles as the teen straddled him. If they were alone, he would take him to the floor right then.
"He is here. Shade is Harry. Harry is Shade. They are both ME. Equal pieces of me in one small package." Voldemort said with satisfaction.
Dumbledore gave him a look of horrified disgust.
"You monster!" Moody yelled, his magical eye fixed intently on the boy in the Dark Lord's arms.
"Now, now, Auror. No name calling. You wouldn't want Harry to have to hear that now would you? Rest assured, Albus, I am taking very good care of my little serpent. Better care than you ever gave him. Now, I believe the real reason we are here is to discuss the cessation of fire for eight months. You don't attack my bases, I will stop the hunts for your little group for the full time. Eight months of cease fire. I know you need it. You're getting old, Dumbledore." Voldemort hissed with a laugh.
Dumbledore glared at him outright but it was the mudblood who spoke.
"And what do you get from it?" Hermione demanded tearfully, her eyes pleadingly glancing at Shade.
Voldemort sneered at her as Shade slipped back to the back ground, leaving Harry trembling in his arms.
"My Consort will be assured safety throughout his full term. The next eight months. Aside from that, my reasons are my own."
Arthur Weasley stood.
"So you won't have to leave his side, you mean! So you can torment him more?!"
"No way!" His twin sons yelled at once.
Dumbledore looked as though he had swallowed something sharp and bitter. He knew that they would have to agree. They couldn't afford not to.
"Take a good look, fools! Does Harry look like he really wants to leave my side?"
And he didn't. In fact, he was clinging to the Dark Lord as if he was the last thing in the world. He was gripping his robes so hard that his knuckles were white. Harry did look healthier than they had ever seen him, oddly. He appeared as if he had a cold but he no longer looked malnourished or haggard. Even Dumbledore had to admit it. The Headmaster grudgingly signed the cease fire contract, begging Harry for forgiveness even though he knew his pleas would not be heard.
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