Someone hoped Harry would be saved from the frightful prospect of a wedding night... Well, I can only say I am sorry :-p
And I am truly sorry for the week delay. I had been going to post last Tuesday, even managed to compete in time my day job which was the main interference to my writing and posting schedule, but other RL stuff got the better of me, and then atop of everything else I've gone and gotten myself sick. Don't worry, nothing serious or dramatic, just irritating stomach problems (too many days eating only sandwiches in my student youth . ).
So, here it is - next chapter. And yeah, I am still going to post every Tuesday, until I run out of something to post.
Hopefully, while I'm posting ready chapters I find back my inspiration and would be able to continue the story, so the aforementioned time without something to post will never come :-p
Harry woke to someone's colourful swearing.
He still felt pain under his ribs, though it was less pronounced now, and his clothes were still soaked in blood, which didn't manage to dry yet, so he assumed that not very much time had passed since the attack.
Moving very carefully, he tried to look around, only to find almost naked Voldemort, still swearing in several languages at once, couple of feet away from Harry, trying to wrap a bandage around his own torso. A nasty looking gash decorated his side roughly at the same place Harry felt his own wound to be.
"Need help?" Harry inquired in raspy voice, when hearing yet another swearing tirade.
"You awake?" came back the question.
"Aha. So?" Harry tried to sit up, but quickly decided against it, when felt fresh sting of pain and more blood soaking through his robes. "Whoa!" Harry gasped, falling on his back and squinting his eyes at the painful sensation.
"Don't move," Voldemort grumbled. "I'm almost done here, give me a second."
"What?"
Instead of answering Voldemort finished with his own bandage, before conjuring fresh one and approaching Harry.
"I'm removing those," he warned, in one wand motion banishing Harry's dress robes to reveal the wound.
"Hey!" Harry's protest came late.
"Silence," Voldemort snapped. "I'm no nurse, so bear with me," despite his words his actions were rather careful, when he was helping Harry to sit up and rinsing away the blood, still dripping from his wound, using the Aquamenti spell.
"Why not Mungo's?" Harry inquired in clipped tone – the actions of Voldemort, while being mild, still disrupted his wound and brought new waves of pain.
"Too many people," in similarly strained voice replied Voldemort.
"Paranoiac," Harry snorted.
"There may be more of the attackers where this one came from," Voldemort warned.
"True," Harry agreed. "But – "
"Stay still," Voldemort grumbled, gabbing him by the shoulder on his good side and quietly hissing when the movement disrupted his own wound.
"You all right?" Harry asked tentatively.
"Should be. You've got the most of the impact." Voldemort responded. "And now hush! I'm stitching!"
After several painful minutes Harry finally was able to breathe again.
"Don't you know any painkiller spells?" he issued, his voice breaking.
"Alas," Voldemort winced. "But at least the blood has stopped. I'm wrapping this thing," he demonstrated a handful of bandages to Harry.
"And no healing spells?"
"Those are for later."
"Why?" Harry asked in surprise.
"The blade could have been cursed or poisoned. The spells can disrupt the natural healing process at the starting stage, if that's the case. Can you be still for a moment?!" Voldemort snapped.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled sheepishly. "Your hands are kind of cold," he explained.
"You're probably running slight fever," Voldemort mused. "That's understandable, given the circumstances."
"Why aren't you? Not feverish, I mean."
"By-product of my tampering with my looks, I suppose," Voldemort tried to shrug and winced. "How does that feel? Not too tight or loose?" he tugged at the hem of wrapped bandage, testing it.
"Don't know," Harry muttered. "Okay, I guess."
"Good. Now for that fever," Voldemort muttered in thought. "I could try find some Pepper-Up."
"It's not too high, I can ride it out," Harry protested. "Or, better yet, sleep it away."
"No. Unfortunately, we still have an unfinished business," Voldemort sighed.
"What business?" Harry blinked, not understanding.
"This," Voldemort waved a hand around them.
Harry finally looked around the place they Apparated into.
It was a middle-sized room, lit by coals, dying in a fireplace, and several candles scattered across the room. The most part of the space was occupied by a big four-poster bed with a canopy, at which they both were sitting now. The rest of the room was taken by two night stands – one near each side of the bed; a sitting group near the fire – a small table and couple of armchairs; a wardrobe along one of the walls; a dressing table along the other, between two doors, one of which presumably leading to bathroom, and another – outside. The curtains on the windows were drawn shut, only a sliver of dying evening light coming through a tiny opening.
Harry gulped, realising what Voldemort had implied.
"A wedding night," echoing his thoughts, murmured Voldemort. "Magic won't wait until we're better," he winced.
"I didn't think that was so literal," Harry mumbled, his voice quivering.
"I assume this particular kind of wedding ritual had been suggested by Dumbledore," Voldemort made a face. "I doubt you even knew that the other options existed," he muttered darkly.
"Other options?"
"It could have been a simple marriage document, verified by, say, Goblins, or even Wizard Attorney, with no strings attached, so to say. Couple of news articles with photos, a grand reception at the Ministry, but no rituals involving Magic as a binding force. But this version requires us to engage in honest, unless we wish to loose our magic," Voldemort explained, while Harry's eyes went narrower with anger at each of his words.
"I see," Harry grumbled.
"He made sure none of us broke this deal," Voldemort concluded.
Harry swore with passion.
"Totally agree," Voldemort snorted. "So shall we proceed?"
Harry swore with even more passion this time.
"That was a 'yes', I assume?" Voldemort smirked.
Harry gone red in the face, suddenly remembering that they were both almost fully naked. And already in bed. He didn't realize he was trying to move away from the other man, before Voldemort carefully put a hand on his shoulder in order to stall him.
Harry shuddered at the touch.
"Still cold?" in mild tone inquired Voldemort.
"Aha," in the not very convincing tone responded Harry.
"Should I make a warming spell?" in an even quieter tone suggested Voldemort.
"Please?"
Voldemort didn't even touch his wand, laying at his other side, opting for a wandless warming spell in an undertone. Then his hand returned to its previous position on Harry's shoulder, making the other flinch again.
Voldemort swore under his breath, removing his hand.
"I am afraid, we don't have this luxury," he said in a low tone. "The Magical Contract gives us only till morning to consummate this marriage."
"I can't help it," Harry mumbled miserably, not looking at him.
Voldemort winced, then suddenly moved away and laid down with a tired sigh.
"So be it," he muttered with finality to his tone.
"Huh?" Harry was so surprised, that he even turned around to look at the peacefully laying Dark Lord.
"Let none of them think of the Dark Lord as of child abuser," Voldemort muttered darkly. "I've tried my best."
"What of the Magic?"
"You've got your peace, now you're getting a bonus – the Dark Lord going Squib," Voldemort grumbled. "I won't force myself on you. You've had enough, without me raping you," he made a grimace. "Anyway, it was your side which suggested this treaty, not us. Quite possibly, Dumbledore anticipated just this outcome. I don't think your friends would think of you any less if you became Squib, so there is nothing to worry about." At that the Dark Lord closed his eyes, seemingly going to sleep.
Harry, who had been gaping at the Dark Lord during his tirade, now stared into space, his brow creased in some thought.
After several minutes of contemplation he carefully moved closer to the Dark Lord and tentatively poke the man's shoulder with slightly trembling finger.
"I don't want to become a Squib." He confessed quietly. "And I doubt you do, too."
"And?" not opening his eyes prompted Voldemort.
"Let's try again, m?"
"Sure?" still not moving clarified Voldemort.
"No," voice thick with honesty, rasped Harry. "But we should try, nonetheless."
"Fine," not twitching a muscle agreed Voldemort.
"So?"
"Your turn."
Harry winced.
Then he shuffled a bit closer.
Then sighed in defeat.
"I don't know what to do," he confessed, his cheeks reddening again.
Voldemort opened his eyes only to roll them at him.
"Don't say you've never been with a girl!"
Harry silently shook his head.
"Sweet Morgana! We are so screwed!" muttered Voldemort.
Harry gone white in the face at that.
"Fine," the Dark Lord grumbled, then finally sat up, startling Harry. "We don't have time for this shit," the Dark Lord swore again. "You are going to let me in this time, right?"
"I'll try," Harry promised unsure.
"Harry, look at me," Voldemort urged.
Harry gulped, but complied.
"What do you see?"
"What?!" Harry asked incredulously.
"Am I ugly?" prompted Voldemort.
"N-no?"
"Repulsive?"
"Erm – "
"Fine. Can you think of a compliment for me?" suggested Voldemort.
Harry blinked. Then creased brow in honest thought.
"You are – ," Harry started slowly, " – beautiful?" he finished lamely.
"Beautiful? Not 'handsome'?"
"Yeah," in thick voice agreed Harry. "As a girl. Woman. Oh, hell! I don't know!"
"Okay," slowly drawled Voldemort, grimacing a bit. "It seems, I overdid it this time," he admitted with a smirk. "Let us try something else."
He then proceeded to lay back down.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Harry stuttered.
"Come hither," Voldemort urged him, taking Harry's hand and gently tugging.
With expression of utter bewilderment Harry lowered himself into another man's arms.
Voldemort hissed lowly at the unpleasant sensation in the fresh wound this pose brought on, but made no movement to change it.
"Okay?" he asked instead, when feeling Harry fidgeting in his embrace.
"Just the wound," Harry muttered. "Yours?"
"I am fine," Voldemort lied. "Now, why don't we try this?" and his lips covered Harry's.
Unlike his previous kisses in public, this one started almost as a simple peck on the lips, steadily and slowly growing more intimate and passionate.
'Try not to dwell too much on my persona, Harry.'
Harry flinched, hearing alien thoughts in his own head.
'Shush. It's nothing to worry about. Just feel. Do not think,' Voldemort urged him wordlessly.
Harry closed his eyes for good measure and tried to do just that – not to think, but only sense: the other's plump soft lips on his own, gentle tongue slowly coaxing his own into an intimate dance, the shared breath of air between them. When he felt lightheaded from the lack of the latter he finally broke free of the kiss, chest heaving and eyes, which just snapped open, glistening. His glassy gaze fell on the man in front of him: Voldemort's face was flushed and a drop of sweat appeared at one of his temples, his cheeks acquired a nice rose tint and a small dimple on the left side, his lips were swollen and slightly parted in attempt to get more of the much needed air. Then Harry looked into his eyes – now a whirlpool of dark-crimson and going darker with any gulp of air the man took, slitted pupils becoming wider with any passing second.
"More?" the Dark Lord suggested, and not waiting for the confirmation or denial, again ravished Harry's mouth with his own, this time – with more hunger and passion, than before, almost instantly plunging his tongue deep into Harry's mouth, dragging a reluctant moan from him.
"Yesss," Voldemort managed to hiss right into Harry's mouth, making him abruptly end the kiss with a surprised bite. "Fuck!"
"Sorry," Harry breathed out sheepishly, a furious blush appearing on his cheeks, and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Just try not to do this when my cock will be in your mouth," Voldemort warned him with a devious smirk, the comment making Harry blush even more. "Hey," he called, when saw Harry squeezing his eyes even more. "That was a joke," he clarified. "I am not doing anything of the sort against your will. We've just talked about it."
"O-okay," Harry at last opened his eyes. Despite the words they exchanged, his pupils were still blown and gaze glassy from their earlier activities.
"Shall we continue where we left?" Voldemort suggested, but this time didn't rush to eat Harry alive, instead waiting for the response from the other.
Harry gave a briefest of nods, before taking the initiative into his own hands – literally. He changed his position a bit, so that he was hugging the Dark Lord with one hand around the man's neck and the other around his back, while they were still laying facing each other. Harry slowly closed the distance between their faces, his lips carefully touching Voldemort's in a chaste kiss, then moving sideways, to land another open-mouthed kiss – on the man's cheek, and continued to trace his jawline with small tentative kisses up till the place just below his earlobe, which he then proceeded to take into his mouth and explore thoroughly with his tongue.
At first Voldemort just froze, but with each of Harry's gentle kisses he was gradually relaxing, at the end even starting to make small keen sounds, somewhere into Harry's collarbone, before remembering himself, and attacking Harry's throat with kisses of his own. This action made Harry stop and moan wantonly right into the Dark Lord's ear, making him hum in satisfaction around mouthful of Harry's skin, which he was sucking on gently.
"God! – You'd make me – a hickey!" Harry managed to breath out.
"Good!" Voldemort purred with satisfaction. "You'd finally have my mark!"
"Have mercy!" Harry pleaded only half-jokingly.
"The Dark Lord knows no mercy!" smirking Voldemort finally stopped kissing Harry's neck only to move up and again catch his lips with his own.
"I doubt this contract would be fulfilled with just kissing," Harry managed to say with chagrin in-between the string of kisses.
"It's not time yet," Voldemort responded cryptically.
"Time for what?"
"For this," Harry gasped, suddenly feeling the other's hand gripping his slowly building erection through a thin layer of his underwear. Shuddering he instinctively tried to shy away from that hand. "See? It's not time yet, I'm telling you," Voldemort repeated, before starting another round of kisses.
After several minutes though he changed his tactics, opting to simply stroking Harry's face and chest with gentle touches, his hand slowly going down Harry's torso, before freezing just above his waistband.
"Shall I continue?" Voldemort asked in half-whisper.
"Y-yes," Harry responded in husky tone.
Voldemort hummed in satisfaction, his hand gently moving further down in feather-light touches, over Harry's still clothed groin.
"May I?" asked Voldemort, tentatively tugging at Harry's pants' waistband.
"Y-yeah,"Harry breathed out with shudder.
Voldemort moved back up again and touched Harry's lips with his own in a gentle kiss, growing hotter with each movement of his tongue and lips, successfully distracting him, while continuing to tug Harry's pants off him. Still, Harry gasped loudly, when he felt the other's hand accidentally touching his now unclothed erection.
"Sh-sh, it's okay," the Dark Lord whispered into the kiss, his free hand drawing circles on Harry's chest, while he continued to kiss him thoroughly, the hand, which was on Harry's cock now, not moving an inch, only laying atop it.
When he finally sensed that Harry's shudder subsided, Voldemort gently squeezed his fingers on his cock, dragging another surprised gasp from Harry.
Not giving Harry time to get scared, Voldemort started to stroke his cock in sure movements, while he trailed a wet path of kisses from Harry's neck and down to his chest and abdomen, slithering down along Harry's torso in the process.
When he finally reached his desired position – in-between Harry's thighs, his head just above Harry's now full erection – Voldemort looked up at Harry's face for the last confirmation – only to see him at last totally absorbed in the action, face glistening with sweat, eyes half closed and clouded with want, cheeks flushed, swollen brightly-red lips parted in continuing string of moans.
With a slight smirk Voldemort lowered his head, his own lips parting to engulf Harry's cock in the next instant, making him swear loudly in harsh voice and jerk his hips upward, almost gagging Voldemort in the process.
'Fuck!'
"So-orry", Harry managed between moans, only to swore in the next moment, when Voldemort's teeth accidentally (or maybe not) scratched the sensitive skin of his cock.
'So-orry,' with a bit of mockery to his tone, relayed Voldemort, confirming Harry's suspicions.
Then all coherent thoughts flew out of Harry's head, because Voldemort started to suck him off in honest, thoroughly stroking his member with skilled tongue in the process, making Harry see stars after each movement of his lips or tongue.
"I-I'm – goin' to – " issued Harry after several minutes of painfully building tension and pleasure.
Voldemort just hummed with satisfaction around his cock, which was a final straw – feeling lightheaded, his vision darkening and limbs going numb, Harry went under and into the wave of excruciating orgasm overwhelming him, taking several big gasps of air and at the end letting a long loud moan of pleasure.
When he managed to raise his head up a bit to look at the man between his thighs, the view almost brought another orgasm to Harry: Voldemort with a satisfactory smirk was licking away Harry's cum from his lips and fingers, as if it was some sort of quirky desert, his eyes glistening and dark with his own pleasure.
Before Harry could collect himself, still laying limp in the afterglow, he felt an abrupt intrusion into his anus – one slender finger slithered inside him almost without any resistance, swiftly joined by the second and third finger. Then Voldemort started to steadily work him, stretching the tight space.
When Harry's muddled brain at last registered the intrusion, he didn't even have time to protest, as those intruding fingers caught up on some sweet spot inside him, making him again see starts and sense a new wave of pleasure coming on the heels of the first one, the previous climax being so recent.
"Fuck!" Harry let out breezily.
"In a moment, dear," Voldemort promised with a smirk.
Then he shuffled into the more comfortable position and tried to squeeze his member into the half-stretched tight hole, dragging a small sound of distress from Harry.
The latter didn't even know himself, what had caused it: Voldemort's fingers disappearing from that one sweet spot, or the discomfort at the intrusion of man's big and quite thick cock.
"Just a second," Voldemort promised, again reaching with his fingers to stretch Harry more. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you," he muttered apologetically.
"We do-on't h-have ti-ime," issued Harry in-between gasps of pleasure shooting though him, when the Dark Lord's fingers again hit that right spot inside him.
"Right," Voldemort agreed. "Sorry, darling," he gritted, before once again trying to squeeze into the tightness of Harry's ass.
Harry couldn't help, but squirm feeling the other man's cock filling him to the brim and threatening to rip him apart, as he thought at the first few moments. Than he gradually started to get used to the sensation.
"Move?" Harry issued through gritted teeth after several more minutes have passed without any action.
"You ready?"
"No." Despite his own words Harry tried to move a bit to get that friction they both desperately needed. "Okay?"
"Uhumph," incoherently slurred Voldemort, at last starting to move – first half-thrust painfully slow, but then he began to raise the amplitude, while still angling for Harry's prostate to distract him from the overall discomfort.
He didn't get far with that, though, after couple of thrusts stopping abruptly and gasping in obvious discomfort of his own, almost doubling on himself, grasping his wounded side.
"Bloody Hell!" Voldemort rasped, his still fully erect cock leaving Harry's ass in the middle of a thrust, his face going white as sheet.
"Hey, what's up?!" Harry exclaimed in alarm, trying to raise up on his elbows to see what was going on, and hissing in pain, shooting through his wounded side.
"Fuck!" falling on his back again, Harry let out. Then raised his head, more careful this time.
Voldemort was nursing his side, a huge bloody spot swiftly growing on his bandages where they covered the wound.
"Did your stitches went loose?" Harry asked, when Voldemort didn't answer his first question, and only continued to gasp for air.
"I might have – " Voldemort rasped, " – misinformed you – " his face contorted with pain, the rest of the colour leaving his features, " – about the damage – from that sword – " he nodded towards something outside Harry's field of vision.
Harry raised onto his elbows again, this time with more caution, to see the sword on the other end of the bed, a good part of its bloodied tip chipped off.
"What?!"
"The blasted thing is still inside," Voldemort's voice regained some of its force.
"Bloody Hell!" Harry echoed Voldemort's earlier curse.
"I am afraid, it's your call, at the end."
"What are you talking about?!"
"We still need to consummate this fucking marriage." Voldemort winced and slowly and carefully straightened his back, then, moving even more slowly, proceeded to lay down beside Harry and part his legs. "So we should exchange our roles, so to speak," he sighed, spreading his legs wider apart and gesturing to Harry in an invitation.
"I – I – " Harry mumbled perplexed.
"Just repeat after me," suggested Voldemort.
Harry gulped in horror at the prospect.
"I'm not sure – "
"The time is of the essence here, we have but till morning, remember," Voldemort reminded him, wincing.
Harry sighed in defeat, then moved in a position, mirroring the Dark Lord's own earlier.
He tentatively put a finger atop Voldemort's anus, not entering it yet, and threw a last glance at the man's face.
"Go on," Voldemort urged him. "I won't break," he tried to snort but stopped mid-motion, cringing. "I hope," he muttered under his breath.
Harry gently pushed his finger inside Voldemort's ass, moved it from one side to the other, then carefully added the second finger, glancing at Voldemort after each motion.
"Come hither," the Dark Lord suddenly ordered, motioning for Harry to move up, then attacked him with a heated kiss, moaning into his mouth.
'If you drag this on till the morning, we are both done.' He warned.
Harry sighed into the still continuing kiss, then moved away and returned to his previous task, this time – slightly more encouraged.
After adding a third finger for good measure and rather thoroughly working Voldemort up, Harry at last swapped his fingers with his already erected cock, the Dark Lord's kisses and his moans, while Harry stretched him and massaged his prostate, successfully turning Harry on.
"Should I move?" still not fully sure, asked Harry, though his member was already up till his balls inside Voldemort.
"Yess! Go on, fuck me already!" in a sibilant hiss of Parseltongue encouraged him Voldemort.
With a growl Harry plunged forward, then back again. His wounded side protested, couple of stitches probably going loose, but it was certainly nothing compared to what had Voldemort might have felt earlier.
At some moment Harry thought he sensed the other's presence inside his mind again, though what the Dark Lord was doing Harry could not catch at the time.
His thrusts' speed was increasing with every round, pleasure slowly building up inside him, until he couldn't hold it any more, the avalanche of orgasm drowning him and dragging the Dark Lord to the edge and over it, as well. Harry was not sure, whose cry turned to ringing sound in his ears, or maybe they cried out in unison.
Spent dry Harry collapsed atop Voldemort, who only grunted and hissed.
"Hey, no blacking out!" Voldemort slurred after several minutes, when both their breathing evened out a bit. "And move, you elephant," he grumbled, poking Harry under the ribs.
"Fuck! That hurt! I am wounded, too, y'know," Harry muttered harshly, but moved to the side. "Is this all? Or should we perform a ritual of our own, too?" He asked, after several more minutes of basking in blissful afterglow.
"Just cleaning spells, I think," Voldemort responded in a weak voice. "Do you mind?"
"What happened to your mighty self?" with a hint of mockery to his tone inquired Harry.
"Zero energy," Voldemort retorted. "Where do you think your pain from the wound went, huh?"
"What?!"
"I dragged it off, while you were busy fucking me," in sleepy voice explained Voldemort. "Or we'd be still somewhere between you stretching me and me coming over your chest." He snorted at Harry's affronted expression. "Do not take offence, darling, the fuck was still good," smiling like a Cheshire cat, drawled Voldemort. "I hope you liked it, too, by the way," he added as an afterthought, seeing Harry's face darkening.
"Can you cease with these nicknames already?!"
"You don't like it, dear?" still smirking inquired Voldemort.
"Moments ago you were comfortable calling me by my first name! What's changed suddenly?" Harry huffed.
"We finished what we had to?" Voldemort shrugged, or rather – tried to, squirming in pain, when his wound protested yet again. "Morgana's tits, I am going to find that ham-handed lunatic and torture him into oblivion," he hissed in rage.
"You're doing nothing of the sort," Harry put a hand over Voldemort's chest, as if to stop him.
"Don't say the treaty applies to him, too," Voldemort muttered darkly.
"No, just that I'm doing it myself," Harry growled. "You can teach me you favourite curses later, but now – sleep!"
"Cleaning spell!" Voldemort practically whined.
"Ah, forgot about it," Harry smiled sheepishly, then looked around in search of his wand. "Have you seen my wa – "
"You can try doing it without," suggested Voldemort.
"Huh?!"
"Cleaning spells are not too complex and rather harmless. Try it."
"How?!"
"Imagine that your wand-hand is the conduit, not the wand. Now try the spell," Voldemort urged him.
Harry looked at him unsure, but still tried to wave a hand in a familiar gesture, while incanting the necessary words.
"Whoa!"
"Impressive," murmured Voldemort with appreciation. "Wandless magic at first try," his eyes glistened with delight.
"And now – sleep!" Harry announced again, with a triumph in his voice.
"Okay, okay, mum," jokingly muttered Voldemort, receiving a smack on the hand for it. "Whatever this was for?"
"Don't you dare use that word again in front of me!" Harry hissed angrily and threateningly, his eyes narrowing.
"Fine, fine," the Dark Lord grumbled, closing his eyes with a tired sigh. "Sleep well, darling," he felt asleep, still smirking, hearing Harry's quiet swearing.
Harry was roughly awakened by bony finger poking into his side some time later.
"Mhm?"
"Darling, remind me, at what time we should expect a friendly visit from your little clique?"
"What?" Harry opened his bleary eyes at Voldemort, who was looming over him on his elbows.
"When are we expecting your friends?" the latter clarified patiently.
"Somewhen around noon?" Harry shrugged. "'m not sure. Maybe for lunch. Why?"
"That could pose an issue," Voldemort mused thoughtfully.
"What do you mean?" in a more awake tone inquired Harry.
"I must confess, I might have accidentally landed us in the wrong place."
"What?!" now Harry was fully awake.
"That place I put in the papers as our residence is not the safest of my properties, I am afraid. To the contrary, one of several more public ones. When we were attacked I automatically Apparated us to the least known of my hide-outs. Paranoiac, as you've already said." Voldemort gave a nonchalant shrug.
"So?"
"We better move out now, before they initiate an all-nation search for your precious body."
"Blast! Couldn't you've been more accurate in your Apparition?! Okay, let's go then."
Harry sat up and looked around in hopes of finding his robes, which the Dark Lord so unceremoniously spelled off of him last night.
"There is another issue pertaining to this, I'm afraid. Or rather two more." Voldemort confessed.
"What else?!"
"I still suffer from the magical drain," Voldemort winced. "You'd need to take us to my Manor."
"What's the second 'issue'?" Harry sighed in defeat.
"Your wand," Voldemort pursed his lips and cast his gaze aside. "I hope your friends collected it where you'd dropped it at the Ministry yesterday," he muttered.
"What?!" Harry spluttered.
"It is not here, so I assume you've lost it during that attack." The Dark Lord even had the decency to looked ashamed at this confession.
"You! Incompetent, over-paranoid Dark idiot!" Harry exclaimed, ending the tirade with a couple of more curse-words. "I'll kill you with my bare hands if my wand is not found!"
"I am truly sorry," Voldemort muttered quietly. "You could kill me or call me more names later, but we really need to get going now, before your friends start to turn the Wizarding world upside down looking for you."
Harry growled wordlessly, then tried to collect himself.
"Okay. And how then are we going to Apparate? Or you're going to suggest using wandless magic again?"
"Certainly not. Apparation is tricky even with the wand and even when you move to the familiar place. I am offering you my wand. Temporarily, of course." Voldemort produced bony white wand to Harry.
Harry stared in shock at him, then at the offering. Blinked. Then sighed and took it.
"What if it won't work for me?"
"I am almost certain, that it would not be the issue."
"And how I must Apparate us both, and to unfamiliar location, for that matter? I've never done either of these! Hell, I can hardly Apparate myself and not get splintered in the process!"
"As I remember you managed to perform the wandless spell at your first try last night. And as far as I am aware you are brilliant student and wizard. Well, beside Potions."
"That's Snape's fault," Harry grumbled. "Mostly. Okay, you are going to – what? Teach me side-along Apparition to unknown location now?"
"Something like that. I am going to guide you mentally, while you do the spell."
"What?! No way I am letting you into my head again!"
"Last night, as I remember, you were not so opposed to the matter," Voldemort mused.
"That was different!"
"How so?"
"That – That – Arrgh –! Fine! Let's do this already!"
"Good, we finally agree on something. Or is it customary for you to be so negative in the mornings, darling?" Voldemort smirked.
"When I'm sore everywhere, have a hole in my side and wake to the ugly face of Voldemort and his 'issues' – yes!" Harry burst out.
"Oh, how's your wound, by the way?" Not minding the insults, calmly inquired Voldemort.
"Peachy!" Harry snorted. "It hurts, and the stitches might have gone loose last night – I feel some fresh wetness. You?"
"I'll live," Voldemort grumbled, wincing. "Let us be gone already, m?"
"Well, how exactly are you going to do it?" Harry asked, with a hint of nervousness to his voice.
"You need to add yourself to my wards of this place first, but that hardly would pose any issue," Voldemort smirked crookedly. "Just a drop of my blood and a swish of a wand will do the trick."
"Blood?" Harry tensed.
Voldemort shrugged and held out his palm to Harry:
"Use a wand to cut it, then taste a drop."
Harry made a face.
"It's not poison, just a drop of blood," urged him Voldemort.
"And I am not your friendly vampire," Harry grumbled, but still complied with the instructions he was given, making a slicing motion with a wand to cut open the man's palm.
The other hissed as the resulting cut was a bit bigger than was necessary, but steadily held his hand up to Harry.
"Go on, taste it. Couple of drops would suffice," Voldemort instructed.
Sighing, Harry licked his bloodied hand, winced and made a face, then mimicked a wand motion he was shown, feeling a satisfied thrum of magical energy going through the alien wand, when he uttered the incantation.
"Good," muttered the Dark Lord. "Now we Apparate. Get up," he commanded.
Harry moved to do just that and cringed, feeling a thousand sores all over his body: his ass was the most painful, beside the wound, of course, but his overworked muscles protested, as well, and even his lips were still a bit swollen.
"Bloody fuck!" he hissed aloud.
"That'd be my fault, too," Voldemort muttered apologetically. "I totally forgot about lubrication spells last night," now he was blushing in honest. "I am sorry, Harry."
Harry grumbled something degrading under his breath, but didn't elaborate on the matter, just acquiring a lopsided smirk, when hearing Voldemort swearing under his nose on his way up from bed.
"Well, our trip is long overdue, so it's a go," commanded Voldemort. "Just follow my lead." He stepped closer to Harry: "Put your hands around me."
"Eh?"
"It's customary for side-along," Voldemort explained.
"With no clothes?"
"Ah, well, I doubt we could find them now," with a crooked grin confessed Voldemort. "If I remember correctly, I spelled them off of both of us, when tended to our wounds. Anyway, they would be bloody, you hardly want bloodied clothes on you."
"Fine, just don't grope me," Harry grumbled and opened his arms in inviting gesture.
Voldemort stepped forward.
"A kiss first?" he suddenly asked domestically.
Harry was so surprised, that he allowed the man to close the last inch of distance between them and cover Harry's lips with his own, before Harry found his voice – only to mumble incoherently into this peaceful and slow kiss without much protest to his tone.
Harry was so occupied with this sudden moment of intimacy that he hardly noticed the other's mind creeping into his own.
When they both spun on their heels, Harry working the necessary magic to Apparate them away, the alien presence in his mind felt almost nonexistent, as Harry was still immersed in the kiss.
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