Chapter 5

Harry started laughing, sure that Voldemort had just cracked a very inappropriate joke. But Voldemort's expression remained passive while his eyes took on a definite exasperated shine. And yes, there it was, Voldemort even rolled his eyes when Harry kept laughing.

"You're kidding, right?" Harry said after a few moments in which Voldemort refused to share in his hilarity.

"Does it seem that way to you?" Voldemort asked, voice frosty at best. "Do I appear to be sharing a funny little joke?"

"Er…" Harry snapped his mouth shut and gave Voldemort a slightly horrified look. If he wasn't joking… that meant Voldemort had been serious about fucking Harry, which was such a ludicrous thing Harry didn't even have words to properly describe it in his own head.

Harry jumped up from his chair and without giving Voldemort any reason, he rushed out of the conservatory. He ran to the kitchen but then realized it was closing in on dinner time and Voldemort would be in there shortly to start cooking. So Harry left the kitchen at once and stormed up the stairs, his mind a mess of swirling thoughts. Upstairs Harry stepped into their bedroom, saw the bed they'd been sharing and stepped right out again.

Finally, Harry found the stairs that led up to the attic, where he hadn't been yet. The attic was a space as large as almost the entire house, but with slanted ceilings so one could only stand up straight at the very centre of the room. It was dark and empty for the most part, with a few old suitcases and cardboard boxes tucked away in a few nooks and crannies. It was very dusty but that didn't stop Harry from sinking down onto the wooden floor, raising his knees up and resting his forearms on them while he tried to straighten his thoughts out enough for them to make any sense.

Sex magic was apparently a thing. A real thing. He'd heard some weird rumours about it, as one might expect in a dormitory shared by a bunch of teenage boys, but Harry had never taken them seriously before. Now, though, he was suddenly faced with the prospect of actually partaking in sex magic.

With Lord Voldemort.

Closing his eyes, Harry leaned his forehead on his arms and released a bone deep sigh. This was his enemy, his adversary, his prophesized arch-nemesis. The man who'd murdered his parents and so many other people that Harry couldn't even begin to count them. The man who had throughout his entire life tried to kill Harry as well.

Yet… all those things didn't apply to them anymore, at least for the duration of their imprisonment. And afterwards, once they got out, they were going to hunt Snape down together.

Their dynamic had definitely shifted, Harry couldn't deny that. But had it shifted enough that Harry was comfortable having sex with the man?

And that was another thing. Voldemort was a man, who had made it very clear he was going to be fucking Harry. Now Harry was an openminded chap. He had no problems with men fucking other men. If Harry was being completely honest with himself, Harry himself had been attracted to men from time to time. Harry had spent many a night during his fourth year in bed fantasizing about Cedric Diggory coming upon a half dressed Harry in the Quidditch locker room, which always resulted in Cedric falling to his knees and sucking Harry's cock. Harry had wanked himself to some of his best orgasms to that particular fantasy, assuming since it was just a fantasy and Harry had no intentions of pursuing Cedric in real life it didn't really matter all that much.

But perhaps Harry should examine that attraction again, but a bit closer this time. Did having sexy fantasies about a man mean that you were actually sexually attracted to them in real life as well?

Harry closed his eyes and thought long and hard what he would have done if Cedric had actually come upon Harry in the Quidditch locker room and initiated some sort of sex act. Would Harry have kissed Cedric? Yeah, probably, Harry could admit that much. Would Harry have let Cedric grab hold of his cock? Also yeah, that would have been fine. Would Harry have gone down on his knees and perhaps sucked Cedric's cock? Harry frowned. Perhaps not during their first encounter but if they'd met up again for more sex then probably yes.

And would Harry have let Cedric fuck him? After a while, probably. Harry, knowing his own cursed curiosity, would have been happy enough to try it at least once with someone he liked and was attracted to.

Ah, and there was the problem. It wasn't the idea of two men having sex together that put Harry off. It was the whole Voldemort issue after all. Harry wasn't attracted to Voldemort at all, and he certainly didn't like the man.

Ugh. Harry shuddered just thinking about having to touch Voldemort's body in any sexy way.

Then a memory invaded Harry's thoughts, of Tom Riddle as Harry had met him in his second year. Tom Riddle had been stupidly handsome, even Harry could admit that much. He'd been an arrogant tosspot, but he'd also been perhaps the most handsome man Harry had ever met.

That same man was currently cooking them something spicy, if the smells that hit Harry's nose were any indication. Voldemort didn't look the part anymore, but he was Tom Riddle, plain and simple.

Sighing, Harry wanted to bang his head against something but instead he just tipped it back and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe he should just go downstairs and talk to Voldemort. They were both mature individuals. They could talk about sex magic without it being awkward, right? Harry was sure they could if they put some effort into it. And besides, Harry realized he didn't actually know anything about the ritual Voldemort had in mind. Was it a one-time thing? Did they have to repeat it? How long would it be? Were there any lasting consequences?

Yeah, hiding in the attic wasn't the most productive thing Harry could do at that moment so he pushed himself up, sighed again, and then descended the stairs with heavy steps.

"Done sulking?" Voldemort asked, back turned to Harry while he stirred something that smelled like curry.

Harry sat down at the kitchen table. "You took me by surprise, all right?" Harry swallowed, inhaled a deep breath, and reminded himself that he was a mature individual who could talk about sex with his enemy. "Tell me more about the ritual."

Voldemort briefly glanced over his shoulder as though to make sure Harry wasn't about to freak the fuck out again the moment he started talking. "Sex magic has many facets. The one that would help us is an exchange of power through sex. It would strengthen both of our blood."

"Okay." Harry was proud his voice was steady even though his hands shook. "And would we have to perform the ritual only once?"

"Yes."

Smiling, Harry sat back in his seat. That was good news at least. "Would there be any lasting consequences?"

"Yes," Voldemort said in a perfectly bland tone. "It creates a magical bond, but that bond can be broken later."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that," Harry managed to say, even when his thoughts were going a mile a minute again. He did not want to be bonded to Voldemort in any way, shape or form. Not even for a second.

"How about you take the night to consider the offer of the sexual bonding ritual," Voldemort said while he checked the pot of rice. "You can tell me your decision tomorrow morning. If it's yes, we'll perform the ritual. If it's no, we'll simply use our blood as it is and prepare the wands."

That was a very reasonable suggestion and Harry's erratic breathing calmed down again.

The curry was delicious but Harry's stomach was in knots so it was hard to truly enjoy it, even if Harry did his best to eat a whole plate of it. Voldemort seemed happy enough to leave Harry be and he didn't speak much, lost in his own thoughts. Harry appreciated that Voldemort wasn't holding monologues to try to convince Harry, but instead let him make up his own mind.

They spent an hour in the living room together, having a cup of tea and sharing the newspaper between each other. Neither spoke much and soon enough Voldemort announced he was going to bed.

Their evening routine was familiar by now and Harry sat down in the chair while Voldemort climbed into bed. Harry studied his face as it relaxed into sleep.

If Harry didn't do the ritual, nothing would change for him except he'd be locked up for a few weeks longer. And honestly, being locked up wasn't that bad. Aside from the initial horror at being trapped somewhere with fucking Voldemort and a few slaps to the face, this whole experience had actually been better than spending his holiday with the Dursleys. And didn't that say plenty of what people expected Harry to put up with every summer.

At least now Harry got to eat three full meals a day, shower whenever he liked, wank when he needed it and he got to do actual magic. Well, whatever magic the house allowed them to do, that is.

Still, it wasn't such a bad deal, all things considered, and Harry wondered if bending over and letting Voldemort fuck him was worth it to cut what was a perfectly reasonable holiday short a week or two.

But it wasn't Harry's comfort that was truly on the line here, now was it? Harry's friends were out there, believing him dead while Snape was picking them off one by one. It wasn't Harry's life on the line, it was the safety of his friends. Yeah, if Harry was going to go along with it, he was doing it for his friends. Harry would do anything to keep his friends safe. Including fucking Voldemort if it came down to it.

When it became time to wake Voldemort and change positions, Harry still hadn't truly made up his mind, his thoughts jumping back and forth between any number of arguments against or in favour of doing the ritual.

Harry was exhausted, though, from all his mental gymnastics, and he fell asleep at once. When he woke up in the morning with bright sunlight peeking through around the dark curtains, Harry sat up and rubbed his hands across his face. He'd have to give Voldemort an answer soon, yet Harry still didn't have one, even if his thoughts were leaning more and more towards just doing the ritual and hopefully get out of there soon so they could take down Snape.

Voldemort was, as usual, cooking them breakfast. The Daily Prophet lay on the kitchen table.

"McGonagall died," Voldemort said without a hint of emotion. "They're saying it's a heart attack, but I can see Severus' hand in this."

Harry's heart skipped several long beats while he sank down in a chair and picked up the paper. His hands trembled as he unfolded it and read through the article, his vision slightly blurry. "Yeah, they're saying because she was hit with all those stunners last year her heart was already weak," Harry whispered, more to himself than to Voldemort.

"Hm." Voldemort served them toast and scrambled eggs while Harry pushed himself up to pour them both some glasses of orange juice from the fridge.

"I'll do it," Harry said, unable to stop looking at the picture of McGonagall on the front page. Harry had always liked McGonagall, even if she'd been unforgiving in many ways and had let him down on more than one occasion. She'd certainly deserved better than to be poisoned by Severus Snape. "I'll do the ritual."

"Be very certain, Harry." Voldemort gave him a long look before focusing on his breakfast. "The bonding will last until we get wands of our own again. The blood wands will not be strong enough to break it."

"I'm sure," Harry said, heart full of resolve. No more of the people Harry knew and cared for should die just because Harry got weird about having sex. He was almost 17 years old, almost an adult in the eyes of the wizarding world. He could do this if it helped to keep his friends safe, simple as that.

"Good. We'll perform the ritual after breakfast. We can then add our blood to the wands this afternoon." And with that Voldemort started eating.

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, trying to portray courage he didn't really feel. His breathing was still too fast and his legs were strangely jittery.

He was going to have sex. With Voldemort. No matter it was to help keep his friends safe, the idea still freaked Harry out on some level. Probably on most levels. But he was, and always would be, a Gryffindor and that meant Harry could gather all his courage and get the job done.

"Leave the dishes," Voldemort said after they were done eating, much to Harry's surprise. Up until that point Voldemort had been very clear he expected Harry to do the dishes at once after every meal. But perhaps Voldemort just wanted the ritual over and done with as well.

Since he'd been so preoccupied with his own mental struggles, Harry hadn't even considered Voldemort's opinion on the whole sex magic ritual. Did Voldemort even desire men in a sexual way? Was he looking forward to it or did he find the idea of having sex with a almost seventeen-year-old as off-putting as Harry found the idea of fucking Voldemort?

And that was another thing Harry hadn't even considered yet. Voldemort was older than dirt, basically. Easily old enough to be Harry's grandfather.

Harry swallowed as he followed Voldemort up the stairs, his feet like lead.

None of it mattered though, Harry reminded himself as Voldemort entered the spare bedroom. Harry would do anything to keep his friends safe and at that moment the best thing he could do to accomplish that was to let Voldemort fuck him during some kind of magical bonding ritual, simple as that.

"I see you were busy last night," Harry said as he gaped at the ritual circle Voldemort had chalked on the wooden floor. The sparse furniture in the spare bedroom had been pushed up against the walls and the circle occupied nearly all of the available floorspace.

"I figured I might as well make myself useful while you slept." Voldemort gestured at the circle before undoing his robes. "You are welcome to inspect the rune work. Check it for errors and see for yourself what kind of bond we're dealing with."

"Er…" Harry licked his lips and suddenly felt very foolish about his choice of classes. "I don't actually know anything about runes. Or rituals."

With a sigh so deep it might as well come from the centre of the earth, Voldemort gave Harry his most disappointed look yet. "Let me guess. Divination and Muggle Studies? The easy O's?"

Scuffing his shoe against the floorboards, Harry ducked his head while his whole face burned in sheer embarrassment. "Actually, it's Divination and Care of Magical Creatures."

"Oh, yes, that's so much more useful," Voldemort muttered, yanking off his robes, which left him completely naked aside from the blue house slippers he was wearing.

Harry blinked and looked away. "I wasn't thinking, all right? I understand now that I would have been much better off choosing Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. They would have been a whole lot more useful. I get it."

"Well, you'll simply have to trust my skills at runes and rituals." Voldemort waved his hand at Harry in an impatient gesture. "Take off your clothes so we can get on with it."

Harry had never felt so…so…exposed in his entire life. Holy fuck, this was just so surreal and bizarre that Harry questioned his own sanity. Was this all the strangest nightmare he'd ever had? Was he stuck at the Dursleys, still? Perhaps Uncle Vernon had hit him in the head so hard he now had brain damage that caused the most ludicrous hallucinations. That had to be it, because the truth was just too surreal to be taken seriously at this point.

Harry toed off his shoes, pulled his t-shirt over his head and yanked down his jeans, leaving him only in his briefs and socks. He gave Voldemort a defiant glare.

"Everything," Voldemort said in a tired voice while he picked up a bottle of olive oil from the window sill and placed it just outside the circle. "And then come here. I'll use the barrier to cast a wandless cleaning charm on you. I do appreciate some basic hygiene during these types of procedures."

Wow, Voldemort really was the King of Romance, wasn't he? Referring to having sex as 'these types of procedures'. Harry snorted, unable to hold back a chuckle even. As he stepped up to Voldemort after peeling off his socks he pushed down his briefs and finally glared at Voldemort, meeting his red gaze with his own defiant one.

"There, all done," Voldemort said. He stuck one hand in the invisible barrier in front of the window and grabbed Harry's arm with his other hand. Immediately Harry felt a magical tingle travel across his entire body, eventually concentrating inside his arse where the tingle intensified in a way that felt like someone was wiping him clean from the inside.

"What the fuck?" Harry muttered, pulling away from Voldemort.

"Now get on your knees and lower your head, spread out your arms and keep your hands on naudiz and mannaz." Voldemort gestured vaguely at the circle but when he noticed Harry's nonplussed expression he pointed out the correct runes. "Harry," Voldemort added in a serious tone while giving Harry a sharp glance. "Once I start the ritual, I will be asking you questions. You have to mean your answers or the ritual will fail."

Harry swallowed. "What happens if it fails?" he asked, worried they might end up hurt.

"It simply won't work, and we'll probably end up with a splitting headache for a day or two. Nothing worse than that," Voldemort assured him. "But we will have wasted our time and effort and I'd rather not do that."

Harry nodded. "I agree. I'll do my very best to really mean my answers."

"Good. Now get in position."

Harry slowly, with tiny steps, entered the circle and sank down to his knees in the middle of the circle as Voldemort had indicated. Then he lowered his torso and head all the way to the floor, feeling very foolish and oddly vulnerable because this left his arse up high and completely exposed to Voldemort. Finally Harry stretched out his arms and placed his hands on the correct runes.

"Perfect. Now hold that position. The moment I enter the circle the ritual begins. Don't talk unless I directly ask you a question." Voldemort sounded like a drill sergeant instructing troops about to go to battle. "I will start with opening up your body with the oil. This will feel strange, but I will do my best to keep it from hurting. If it does hurt, you bear it, understood?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered against he wooden floor beneath his face.

"Once I'm inside your body and I'm fucking you, the ritual will gain in power and I'll ask the questions. You have to answer them clearly. Once we both climax the ritual will be complete."

Harry blinked and then realized he hadn't even considered that he was supposed to have an orgasm as well. He'd only really imagined Voldemort fucking his arse, not that Harry himself might enjoy a little pleasure as well.

"Any questions?"

"No, let's do it," Harry said, trying to sound like he meant it even though his stomach was rolling with nerves.

"Then I'm starting the ritual now." Voldemort stepped inside the circle and kneeled down behind Harry. The next thing Harry knew was the feeling of slick fingers probing his entrance. It was a weird feeling, slightly intrusive, but it didn't hurt, not even when Voldemort slowly pushed a single finger inside.

Thankfully, Voldemort took his time opening Harry up, starting with just one finger and after five minutes of moving it in all directions in and out of Harry's body, he added another finger.

It didn't feel bad, Harry had to admit as he remained as still as he could. It felt strange and intrusive and a little full, but it wasn't bad at all. Much to his surprise, his cock even gave a few interested twitches as Voldemort seemed to brush his fingers against something inside Harry's body that made the whole thing actually feel rather good.

After ten minutes or so, Voldemort pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his hard, slick cock.

Harry couldn't hold back the groan that all but burst out of him as Voldemort pushed his cockhead inside. There was a slight burn now, and some pressure that made it feel like it would never, ever fit. But then Voldemort pushed more of his shaft inside and suddenly it felt much better as Harry's body adjusted itself around Voldemort's thick cock.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said as he pulled out and thrust back inside with a hard jerk of his hips. "Do you agree to an exchange of power?"

"Yes," Harry grunted, his eyes squeezed shut while his own cock steadily grew hard. "I agree."

Voldemort fucked into him for a few minutes more, hands squeezing Harry's hips to keep him steady. At this point Harry's cock was rock hard, dribbling pre-come all over the runes beneath them. The magic in the circle grew heady and thirsty, as though it couldn't wait to taste their fluids.

"Harry Potter, do you agree to be my mate for as long as you desire?"

Harry briefly opened his eyes in shock, but then Voldemort gave an extra hard thrust and Harry's cock twitched with need and it took everything Harry had not to reach beneath himself to jerk himself off to a quick release. "Yes," Harry moaned, his arse pushing back against Voldemort's cock on its own accord. "I agree."

Voldemort picked up pace while the magic of the ritual swirled around them and Harry was sure he'd never felt such pleasure before and he hadn't even come yet. Voldemort's sharp thrusts were accompanied with slick, wet sounds as his body slapped against Harry's.

"Harry Potter, do you agree to remain by my side for as long as you desire?"

"Yeah," Harry keened, ready to promise anything at this point, his entire mind clouded by the sheer pleasure that threatened to swallow him whole. "I agree."

Voldemort leaned down across Harry's back and whispered in his ear, "Now come."

Harry did. His orgasm stole almost all his senses as he sprayed his release all over the runes beneath them, his cock twitching like it never had before. Voldemort threw his head back, hands leaving bruises all over Harry's hips, as he shot his seed deep inside Harry's body with a guttural groan.

The magic engulfed them, imprinted on them, and sank into their shared bodies. Harry's whole being felt like it was on fire, but it didn't hurt, not one bit. Harry felt…complete in a way he never had before, as if his entire life there had been a piece of him missing that he'd only just now found.

Voldemort remained buried inside Harry for a few long moments while he leaned his forehead between Harry's shoulder blades. "Well done, Harry," Voldemort whispered, his softening cock twitching inside Harry. "Good lad."

Eventually the magic died down and Harry's sweaty body grew cold while his knees protested from scraping across the wooden floor.

"Come, we shall take a shower." Voldemort finally pulled out of Harry with a slick sound. Harry's legs trembled as he slowly pushed himself up to his knees. Voldemort offered him a hand and Harry gladly accepted it because his whole body felt like it was missing a few bones to help keep him upright. Harry trudged out of the bedroom without even realizing what was happening.

Sharing a shower with Voldemort shouldn't be this comfortable, a small voice in the back of Harry's mind said, but Harry ignored it as they both stepped under the warm spray. Harry was brimming with magic, with Voldemort's magic, and it made him feel complete and utterly peaceful in ways he'd never felt before. About himself, but also about Voldemort.

Without asking for permission, Voldemort picked up a bar of soap and ran it over Harry's body, washing him thoroughly. Harry let him as he leaned against Voldemort's tall form. This was so nice, to have someone care for him like that. Harry couldn't recall a time when someone had done this for him before.

"You did so well," Voldemort whispered as he gently washed Harry's face, his red eyes hooded as they stared into Harry's green ones. "I'm very proud of you."

"It was nice," Harry whispered, head tilted back and eyes closed against the spray of water. "The sex was really good. I hadn't expected that."

"We can do it again, as often as you like," Voldemort suggested in a low voice.

Harry blinked his eyes open and stared up at Voldemort in astonishment. They could do it again, couldn't they? They were alone in the house. No one was there to stop them. And the sex really had been bloody good. Much better than wanking in the bathroom over Peach's stained picture. "Yeah, all right. We should definitely fuck again."

After twenty minutes of standing under the warm spray while they basked in each other's presence, Voldemort turned off the water. "Come, we'll get dressed and I'll heat us up some leftover curry for lunch. Afterwards, we'll prepare the blood wands."

"Yeah," Harry agreed easily. He was still so at peace with himself, with Voldemort and with the entire world that he would have agreed to just about anything at that point. They dried off quickly and efficiently and Harry didn't feel at all weird about being naked around Voldemort. In fact, he kind of liked the idea of both of them just walking around with their dicks out like that. Idly, Harry wondered when they could have sex again. Curry and wands first, but perhaps afterwards, Voldemort could fuck him again. Harry genuinely looked forward to that.

They did get dressed, much to Harry's disappointment now that he'd discovered his secret nudist side, and they made their way to the kitchen.

While Voldemort got their plates sorted, Harry poured them some orange juice and sat down at the table. He was parched. Who knew sex would be such thirsty work?

"So now we're bonded?" Harry asked, sipping his juice as they waited for the microwave to finish heating one plate. "And that will last until we break it?"

"Yes," Voldemort said with a smile not unlike that of a cat who just ate about ten canaries. "It was a simple bonding ritual mostly used in marriages."

Harry dropped his glass, juice spilling everywhere. "We just got fucking married?"