A/N:
(kind of long, so you may skip to the nearest divider for the story itself, if you'd like)

Yet another new story. I know, I know, I have like zillion of started and still unfinished stories, but I can't seem to break this habit of mine..

I started it (more like wrote most of the chapters I have at this moment) the year before, in between helping my parents with new apartment (building, design, furnishing etc.), and only now have some free time to post it.

Ah, not really - I started a huge project, or, more particularly, several of them, unrelated to story-writing... well, almost - I am doing YT-blog(s) (one is PC&tech-related, second - for gaming, and third - about my trials in drawing and art-stuff); also I am trying in honest to start writing original story I want to someday publish, at least in digital, or, preferrably, on paper. So I would not lie, the posting of this story will be un-frequent, when all the ready chapters will be posted. I have four chapters written, either a bit shorter than my usual 5k+ chars, or around this length, or even considerably longer, almost like two lengths of that.

Also I have planned a prequel already (more like have general idea of it), it should be something like your typical midi-sized story on what had led to this development you see in the main story. And I have a piece which didn't go into main one, so it'd be like an alternative chapter (I've written three quarters of that, now have only part with smut to write hehe ).

Well, you know me, if I would be carried away by the story and would have urgent inspiration, I might be a bit more productive. Or your involvement - comments and discussions - would give me inspo...
And sometimes I am inspired to write fanfiction, when I really should be working on one of the technical translation projects I am doing for a living, or at least was doing up till now, as I am totally fed up with translation and try to move on to anything unrelated to my old job.

Okay, enough rambling!

Here it is. The general idea came to me in the dream: what would happen, if two our favourite enemies, Harry Potter and the Dark Lord Voldemort, are forced to be together, like in a forced marriage; then I was thoroughly investigating the matter, until finally stumbled upon the concept of Heqin you will see in here. Thanks to wikipedia!

And hu-uge thank-you to my mum, who patiently listened to my ramblings on the matter!

Well, here goes! Enjoy and don't forget to leave comments, bookmark or subscribe to this and/or my other stories

P.S. I plan on posting once a week, until I ran out of ready chapters, this way you will have something to wait for, and I will have time to correct and code-edit them for ya ;-)

Formatting
(in my usual style)

"Parseltongue" [italics in double quotation marks]
'mental conversation/thoughts' [italics in single quotation marks]
'quotations' (i.e. something in quotation marks, but inside a bigger phrase already put in "double quotation marks": direct speech, titles and names etc.) [in single quotation marks]
emphasis inside phrase in Parsel or mind-talk [bold italics, italics]
emphasis elsewhere outside phrases in italics [bold]

Prologue

Harry Potter was nervously pacing the small room in the depths of the Ministry of Magic for the third hour in row, when one of the doors – leading to the Courtroom Ten – creaked open. Harry jumped at the sound and whirled around to face the door.

"It's time," the man in Ministry official robes muttered gloomily.

Harry gave a jerky nod in response and made a step towards the entrance to the courtroom. Then turned towards the officer:

"The press?"

"Waiting," the man responded, baring his teeth in a shark-like grimace. "E-eagerly," he droned with mockery.

Harry sighed.

"Public, too, I suppose?"

"Naturally," the man smiled broader.

Harry shuddered and almost plunged inside.

"Harry, wait!" the voice from the other door, which had just opened, stalled his steps.

Harry slowly turned back and gaped at the newcomer.

"Sirius?!"

"Yeah, pup, it's me," Sirius Black smiled and opened his arms for a hug.

"B-but – How?! -"

"Magic!" in stage whisper confided Sirius, smirking.

"But I've just seen you fall -"

"It appears the Reaper was not expecting me this early," still smirking shrugged Sirius. "Don't know really, they didn't tell me details yet."

"They?"

"Mr. Potter, it's time," reminded Harry the officer.

"Oh, blast! Siri, I have to go!"

"But we'd talk later, yes?" with hope inquired Sirius.

"Erm – Yes?" Harry's answer turned into unsure question. "I'd be glad! B-but -"

"Mr. Potter," more urgently reminded him the officer.

"Coming," Harry grumbled. "I've waited for him three hours, he could wait five minutes and not rot." He winced. "Later, Padfoot!" with this Harry waved goodbye and finally entered the courtroom, on his way in hearing a surprised question from Sirius "Who was he waiting for?"

Courtroom Ten was as Harry remembered it: dark and dirty. The rows of seats were swarming with not only plump-colored robes of Wizengamot members, but with various colorful spots here and there, indicating reporters and general population, as well. Harry thought he saw Rita Skeeter's bright colored attire at one corner, and he definitely saw a pool of redheads at the other corner, with one bushy brunette head among them. Wincing and sighing for the umpteenth time Harry quickly scanned the seats for the rest of his friends, but his nervousness get the better of him, blurring his sight and turning all the other onlookers into faceless colored mass, which gave him migraine and turned his stomach into tight knot, the feelings almost nauseating.

Averting his gaze from the masses, trying not to cringe too openly and to hide the nervous shaking in his limbs, Harry looked at the spot where he remembered the judge's bench to be, but this time there stood an easel of sorts, holding an old looking tome, its pages fluttering in the invisible wind. Harry immediately recognized the person behind that easel – Rufus Scrimgeour, the new Minister for Magic. The man was frowning grimly, despite the merry colors of his robes – something violently iridescent, the colors literary flowing one into another and changing on the go. Even Dumbledore's bright-purplish robes with yellow trims and some suspiciously looking ornaments paled in comparison. And of course, the Headmaster was in attendance, as well, right beside the Minister, holding a cushion with two white ribbons on it. Dumbledore nodded to Harry, his face serious, for a change, blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles not twinkling, but sad and grim, like his neighbour's.

At last Harry turned towards the main entrance to the courtroom, which at that same moment opened with flourish, its tall and heavy wooden doors bouncing off the opposite walls and almost closing again, stopped only by a light wave of a slim pale hand, holding thin bony-white wand, known to most of the Wizarding community.

Public and reporters all gasped in fright in unison with Harry's own quiet gasp of surprise at the sight of the tall man in pitch black billowing robes, who strode in calmly, with an air of superiority to himself, as if he was owning the place and everyone in there, crimson eyes scanning the crowd, fingers of one hand lazily stroking the wand, tightly held in the other hand – not quite raised for attack, but obviously itching to do so.

Fiery blood gaze of the Dark Lord Voldemort locked with Harry Potter's green eyes in a battle of wills, none of them ready to turn away first. Crowd stilled for a painfully long moment of pregnant silence, not even a breath was heard.

At last, someone cleared his throat, successfully breaking the ice: Harry and Voldemort simultaneously as one turned towards the sound.

Harry was not surprised to see that it was Dumbledore, who spoiled the dramatic moment.

What he was surprised to see, though, was an open wince and nasty grimace of annoyance on Voldemort's very human face, his fine features resembling more adult version of handsome and frighteningly charming schoolboy Harry met in the Chamber of Secrets in his Second Year at Hogwarts.

"Gentlemen, I think this business is long overdue," Dumbledore smiled at them both. "Everyone is waiting," he motioned towards the public and reporters, then turned to Scrimgeour, "Minister?"

"Yes, of course," agreed the later, then took out his wand and pointed at his own throat with a quiet "Sonorus" before addressing the audience:

"Witches and wizards of British Community!

"We are here to witness the conclusion of the amicable agreement between the Light Order and Wizarding and non-magical folks of Great Britain on one side, and the Dark Order also known as the Death Eaters on the other side!

"These two gentlemen, namely Harry James Potter, also bearing names of the Chosen One and the Savior, and Tom Marvolo Riddle also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort, each a representative of their respective sides, had been chosen to consummate this peace treaty by entering into marriage as a sign of the mutual wish of both parties to leave any and all differences aside and make peace with each other.

"Do you, Tom Marvolo Riddle," at that words Voldemort threateningly hissed in a low voice.

"Also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort," continued the Minister, not missing a beat, "being of sound mind and lucid memory, not under the influence of potions, curses, or other magical means, not under pressure of any sort, of your own consent and free will enter into this treaty, agreement and marriage?"

"I do," issued the Dark Lord through gritted teeth.

"Do you, Harry James Potter," the Minister turned towards Harry, "also known as the Chosen One and the Savior," at that Harry also gritted his teeth and loudly took an annoyed intake of air, which, as well, didn't hinder Scrimgeour's speech's smooth flow, "being of sound mind and lucid memory, not under the influence of potions, curses, or other magical means, not under pressure of any sort, of your own consent and free will enter into this treaty, agreement and marriage?"

"I do," Harry grunted and threw a sideways glance at the Dark Lord, who at that moment let out a low satisfactory hum, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly in a badly concealed smirk.

"Do you, Tom Marvolo Riddle and Harry James Potter, take vows to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to Magic's ordinance; and thereto pledge your faith and yourself to each other?"

"I do," they both echoed each other's reluctantly strained voices of agreement.

"You may tie the Knot!" ended the Minister with a grand gesture of his hand, inviting Dumbledore with his cushioned ribbons.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts stepped forward and produced the cushion to the newlyweds.

Harry frowned, realizing with horror, that he didn't know what to do with these things – he didn't have time to research the wizards' weddings, spending his time in negotiations with the Dark Lord and his cronies for the last five weeks since the summer started and up till now.

"Pup, I got you," someone whispered beside him, and Harry went cross-eyed trying to discreetly see who it was. A homely looking Sirius appeared at his side, the man's hand shooting to the ribbons at the cushion and grabbing one. "Man or wife?" in an even lower whisper he asked Harry.

"Wha-?" Harry's question was interrupted by two other whispers from Voldemort and Scrimgeour, contradicting each other: "Wife!" "Man!"

Sirius growled without a voice and did something with the ribbon in his hands: the white band turned red, than blue, than red again and back to blue, and finally acquired a nice shade of lavender, after which Sirius in one quick motion tied it in a tricky knot around Harry's left hand, one extra loop wrapping around his ring finger. One of the loose ends of the ribbon Sirius held up towards Voldemort, his defiant gaze holding a promise of murder to the man.

From the corner of his eye Harry noticed Lucius Malfoy doing almost the same with the other ribbon, although he didn't doubt the color, turning the band blue at first try and after brief glance at Sirius' handwork changing it to lavender, as well. Malfoy held the loose end of Voldemort's ribbon to Harry, his gaze, in contrast to Black's, impassive, almost glassy.

Harry took the ribbon unsure what to do next and threw a panicked glance at Sirius.

"Tie it," mouthed his godfather.

Harry followed suit, as did the Dark Lord, then both men looked at the Minister, ready to give him their hands to tie the main knot between them, but Scrimgeour shook his head in negative and nudged Dumbledore forward:

"The honor of conclusion of this marriage and treaty is rightfully yours, Albus," he tried for less serious face, but managed only a miserable parody of a smile, his eyes sad under a frowning brows. "As a Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards as well as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the honor to tie this Knot belongs to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class, the Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, mentor to both Tom Marvolo Riddle and Harry James Potter! Please!"

"Thank you kindly, Minister," Dumbledore hummed in appreciation and took the offered ribbons from Harry and Voldemort, his eyes at last twinkling madly, and with a broad smile on his old face he tied the Knot on the wedding bands around their hands, ending it with a flourish of his wand.

Harry felt the magic then: it turned silk of ribbons on their tied hands to shiny silvery metal on their ring fingers, after the rest of the shimmering Knot dissolved into skin of their hands with a hiss, a slight burning sensation briefly ghosting over the place where the ribbon had been a moment ago. And Harry felt a pang of pain in his chest and in his scar at the same moment, together with the short highly pitched ringing note in his ears, which was heard seemingly only by himself and maybe by Voldemort, too. The ringing and pain disappeared as quickly as it came. Harry hoped this pain was normal for Wizarding wedding ceremony, like a magical warning to keep their promises or else, and not something wrong with him, for example.

"And now I pronounce you husband and husband!" the Minister returned to his place behind the easel and gestured to them both, "you may kiss your spouse!"

Harry flinched at that declaration and turned with dread towards smirking Voldemort, who already was taking his hand in the Dark Lord's own and pulling Harry closer.

"What are you doing?" Harry managed to hiss angrily, before his mouth was attacked by Voldemort's hungry plump lips, burning crimson gaze locking once again with furious avada-green one in a fight of characters. Harry felt Voldemort's cool hand encircling his waist and pushing him flat to the taller man's chest, the slim appendage gliding up his back to the nape of his neck, bringing him closer still, while the Dark Lord devoured his lips in front of the whole Britain – in the face of public audience on the stalls, and the rest of the population through the reports of journalists. Harry felt Voldemort's tongue embracing his own, the man humming low, his free hand stroking Harry's cheek, then going up his temple and to the famous scar on his forehead, caressing it lightly with the tips of his fingers, while Voldemort continued to mouth-fuck Harry in the middle of the Courtroom in the depth of the Ministry of Magic, in front of the Minister himself.