Chapter 6

"Don't be absurd," Voldemort said at once as he pulled open the microwave door. He placed the steaming plate of curry in front of Harry and got the other plate heating up. "The ritual we used is one of many rituals one can use for a marriage, but it doesn't count as a marriage until the bond is registered with the Ministry." Voldemort gave Harry a pointed look. "Do you see us travelling to the Ministry anytime soon to do so, Harry?"

Snorting, Harry shook his head, feeling at least somewhat appeased. The peaceful cloud that had engulfed his entire head up until that point seemed to retreat a little, making it easier to think. "So we're just temporarily bonded?"

"Exactly as I told you we would be before we conducted the ritual," Voldemort said with a bit of a tired sigh. His own plate was ready and he sat down opposite Harry while they both tucked into their curry.

Harry felt…different. Strange, even. The ritual had definitely done something to his perception of Voldemort, that much was obvious. But at the same time Harry found he couldn't actually care about that, which was probably the ritual's doing as well. Now that they were bonded, Harry was perfectly fine with that idea, which he knew should upset him much more than it actually did.

The curry was great, rich and spicy without being overpowering, and Harry enjoyed it much more than he'd been able to do the previous night, when his stomach had still been in knots. Had he really been so worried about having sex with Voldemort? How silly of him. The sex had been fantastic and Harry genuinely looked forwards to doing it again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry wondered if the ritual made him think like this as well, but for the most part he really didn't care.

He was bonded to Voldemort and they were going to fuck much more often and Harry was completely fine with that.

"We'll prepare the blood wands," Voldemort said after they had emptied their plates. Harry couldn't help but feel a little disappointed even though he understood the urgency of finishing their temporary wands. Voldemort brought along a small knife and a first-aid kit and then sauntered towards the conservatory, Harry on his heels.

"Make a small cut on your arm," Voldemort said as they were both seated side by side, rudimentary wands in their laps. "Like so." Voldemort sliced the knife across his left forearm, creating a small cut that immediately started bleeding. "Now run the wand through the blood from top to bottom." And Voldemort did exactly that. He dragged the rough piece of wood through the cut, coating it on all sides.

Harry picked up the knife and copied Voldemort's actions. His cut was a little bigger, but Harry figured that was better than being too small. He dragged his own wand through his blood, wincing a bit at the stinging pain this caused. Soon enough the wood was coated in blotchy smears of blood and Harry glanced at Voldemort again.

With a small frown of concentration, Voldemort was taping a piece of folded gauze over his cut. Once he was done he gestured at Harry to hold out his bleeding arm and did the same for him, quickly dressing the wound.

"Thanks," Harry whispered, and then turned the blood-soaked wand over in his hands. "Now what do we do?"

"Now we wait," Voldemort said as he stared through the large windows at the bright sky outside. "I suspect it will take between two and three weeks for the wands to have soaked up enough power to be able to get us out of here."

Sighing, Harry slumped in his chair and also stared out through the windows. Two to three weeks sounded like an eternity when stuck in a house with nothing to do.

Well, as Harry had learned that morning, there was one thing they could do that proved plenty entertaining.

"We could fuck again," Harry said, staring at Voldemort with wide, hopeful eyes.

Voldemort didn't even look at him as he asked, "How's your arse, Harry?"

"Er…" Harry had to think about that for a moment. The aftereffects of the ritual seemed to cloud most of his physical aches and pains. "A bit sore, I suppose."

Turning his head to look at Harry, Voldemort gave him a pointed nod. "More than a little sore, I suspect. Usually a healing charm or salve would help, but we have no access to those so your body will have to recover the natural way. No anal sex for at least a day. Tomorrow we can probably give it another go."

"Oh." Harry swallowed against a lump of disappointment. There went that distraction. Apparently for the rest of the day they were only going to sit in the conservatory and stare outside, at least that seemed to be Voldemort's plan.

"During the ritual, I felt…something," Voldemort said out of the blue, gaze fixed on the garden beyond the windows.

"What?" Harry gave Voldemort a look that was more than a little confused. "Like something physical?"

"Magical," Voldemort whispered, folding his hands in his lap over the blood wand as his forehead creased in thought. "Something attached to you that shouldn't be there."

Harry sat up a little straighter so he could give Voldemort a long, narrow-eyed glare. "What are you talking about? You're starting to freak me out."

"Come here." Voldemort spread his legs and gestured between them. "And kneel. I need to examine your scar."

For a moment, Harry wanted to protest because he did not appreciate the idea of kneeling in front of Voldemort for any reason, even if he had just a few hours before willingly offered his naked, raised arse to the man while the rest of him was stuck in a position of absolute submission. But Voldemort's words really did worry Harry quite a bit, so with a sigh, he pushed himself up from his chair and slowly but surely lowered himself to the ground between Voldemort's spread legs.

"Look at me," Voldemort said, red eyes fixed on Harry's scar as he quite gently placed his hands on the sides of Harry's head. Harry did as he was told and stared up at Voldemort's face. He vaguely realized he was getting quite used to seeing his serpentine features now that he was confronted with them all day every day. Voldemort's looks were strange, even somewhat otherworldly, but Harry truly had gotten used to them.

"Hold still for a moment," Voldemort whispered, brushing a few fingers across Harry's scar. "This may feel unpleasant or even painful, but I need to see what is going on here."

"Fine," Harry breathed, leaning into Voldemort's touches. Somehow being so close to Voldemort raised that delicious, peaceful cloud again and it left Harry feeling better again right away.

And then Voldemort did something to his scar that sent a sharp shock of power through Harry that rattled him to his core, but it wasn't painful exactly. Certainly nothing like the piercing, blinding pain Harry had experienced from his scar in the past. Before he could stop himself, Harry moaned at the sensation of tingling magic emanating from his scar and spreading all across his body.

"It is as I feared," Voldemort said in a voice that was barely audible, brushing his thumb across Harry's scar in an almost affectionate gesture.

"What is?" Harry managed to say while he was still quietly reeling from all the pleasurable shivers that raced through him. He barely understood anymore what was even going on.

"During that fateful night in 1981 I seem to have left behind a part of myself in you, Harry." Voldemort cupped Harry's face and leaned down until Harry could feel Voldemort's warm breath on his own lips. "You are far more precious to me than you can ever imagine."

"Wait, wait," Harry said, blinking against all the overwhelming sensations because this was important, he knew that much. "Dumbledore said something like that back in second year. That you gave me some of your power or something. That's why I can speak parseltongue."

Voldemort's hands, which had slowly been caressing Harry's cheeks, stilled at once while Voldemort's expression shifted into a hard mask. "Dumbledore knows?"

"I don't know what you mean," Harry said in a rushed voice, unsure what was even going on. "After I destroyed the diary, Dumbledore told me you left behind your power in me or whatever. I don't actually remember very clearly, but it was something like that." Just as Voldemort narrowed his eyes to red, blazing slits, Harry finally realized what Voldemort was really saying.

"What did you put in my scar?" Harry demanded, sitting up and pulling away from Voldemort's distracting touches. "What the fuck did you leave behind that night?"

"A piece of myself," Voldemort said without any emotion in his voice. "A sliver of my soul."

Harry jumped up at once, backing away from Voldemort while staring at him in absolute horror. His whole body instantly went cold while his breathing became far too shallow. "You turned me into a fucking horcrux?"

"Where did you learn that word, Harry?" Voldemort said slowly as he stared at Harry in much the same way a King Cobra might size up another snake it's considering having for dinner. "That is not a term easily found in Hogwarts' library."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry willed his brain to calm down because he understood all too well that he was now entering extremely dangerous territory. It was crucial that Voldemort not find out Harry knew about the horcruxes. Which he'd just already blown, hadn't he?

"Harry, answer me." Voldemort voice had gone completely cold.

"I…er…" Harry's mind refused to focus as it kept repeating that Harry was a fucking horcrux himself and what the hell was he supposed to do with that information? "How can I be your horcrux?" Harry finally asked, his voice full of quiet desperation and his lips trembling. This wasn't what he'd been expecting to happen at all when he'd promised Dumbledore he was going to find and destroy all of Voldemort's horcruxes.

Voldemort sighed and gestured at Harry to come closer again. "Kneel, Harry, and I will answer your questions."

Harry didn't want to bloody well kneel at Voldemort's feet again, but he did want answers, so perhaps he could swallow his anger and his pride, at least for now. "Fine." Without any ceremony Harry stepped up to Voldemort and dropped to his knees in the exact spot he'd just vacated. "Now what the hell does this mean?"

Voldemort placed his hands on Harry's cheeks again, staring down at him with an expression that seemed at the very least genuinely fond. "It means you are a part of me, my dearest."

"I don't want to be a part of you," Harry muttered while he gave Voldemort his most venomous glare, which didn't seem to do much one way or the other. Voldemort kept caressing his cheeks while gazing down at him with a small smile. "You need to get that thing out of me."

"Are you certain that's what you want?" Voldemort asked with a bit of a chuckle. He leaned closer to Harry, eyes boring into Harry's own. "It would kill you."

"What?" Harry blinked a few times as he swallowed against his suddenly dry mouth. "But then…" Shaking his head, Harry bit his tongue because he was about to give the game away entirely.

"What were you going to say, my dearest?" Voldemort whispered, his voice soothing and his touches so, so gentle. "Tell me."

That fucking distracting cloud was back, trying to engulf Harry's head again. "Nothing…just…is there no other way to get your soul out of me? Really?"

"No," Voldemort said without hesitation. "The only way to release a piece of soul from a horcrux is to destroy it."

Harry's vision blurred as all the puzzle pieces finally clicked together. Dumbledore knew. Dumbledore had always known, at least since Harry's second year. And Dumbledore must also know that the only way to get rid of a horcrux was to destroy it.

Well, that certainly explained why Harry's private lessons with Dumbledore had consisted of story times instead of duelling lessons. Harry was never meant to fight Voldemort. Harry was only ever meant to die after doing all the dirty work of tracking down the other horcruxes.

"Fuck," Harry said while his voice hitched. "That fucking bastard."

"Tell me," Voldemort said again, and his touch was so nice and distracting and Harry couldn't help but lean into his hands again because he needed something nice and distracting right about now because Dumbledore wanted him to die. Had always planned for Harry to die.

"He knew," Harry finally breathed, unable to keep all that pain and betrayal bottled up anymore. "Dumbledore knew I was a horcrux, at least since my second year when I destroyed your diary horcrux. He expects me to die."

Voldemort slowly closed his eyes and nodded his head, though he didn't seem all that surprised. "So it is as I had theorized." He carded his long fingers through Harry's hair, the sensation making Harry shiver with pleasure. "He ordered you to destroy my horcruxes, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed, letting himself slip into the pleasurable sensation of Voldemort's gentle touches.

"And are you willing to die for him, Harry?" Voldemort gave Harry a bit of a challenging look.

"Er…" Harry had no answer for that because he had no time to think at that moment. So much terrifying information had just invaded his mind and Harry hadn't yet been able to truly consider any of it.

"Wouldn't it be better to simply remain my horcrux?" Voldemort offered, his voice smooth as butter. "We have vowed not to hurt each other. We are bonded. We could have as much sex as you like." With some gentle pressure, Voldemort urged Harry to lean his head against Voldemort's thigh while he kept caressing his finger through Harry's messy hair.

"I…er…I don't know," Harry said honestly because his head was filled with a persistent cloud of pleasure and he really couldn't think about anything at that time. "I need time to think."

"Of course," Voldemort whispered, pulling at his robes so he could free his hard cock. "Why don't you suck on this while you think, my dearest."

Harry should have been shocked at seeing Voldemort pull out his cock like that, but he wasn't. A sharp surge of hot arousal shot through him instead and he let Voldemort guide his head towards Voldemort's cock without any protest.

"Just grab it and suck it down," Voldemort said in an encouraging tone while keeping a very close eye on Harry, both hands still resting on Harry's head.

Without hesitation, Harry wrapped his hand around the base of Voldemort's cock and sucked the head into his mouth. It didn't taste like much of anything, though soon there was a musky hint to it the more Harry sucked on it. He'd never sucked a cock before. He'd thought about it, but always about being on the receiving end of a blow job. Never about giving one. But at that moment, Harry really enjoyed the sensation of having Voldemort's hard cock in his mouth. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"Take out your own cock, Harry," Voldemort commanded, his eyes almost closed as he sighed with pleasure. "Bring yourself off while you've got my cock in your throat." Voldemort's grip on Harry's hair became a bit tighter but Harry didn't mind that sensation at all as he yanked his jeans open as quickly as he could. His own dick was already hard and he shivered with pleasure as he gave it a firm squeeze. Oh yeah, that's what he needed. That's what made him feel better than anything.

Bobbing his head up and down Voldemort's cock, sucking faster and faster, Harry matched that rhythm with his hand around his own cock, groaning as his climax built and built. Before he knew it, Harry came and spurted his seed all over the conservatory floor. Voldemort's grip became downright painful for a second as he pushed Harry's head down completely, choking Harry with his cock as he shot his release down Harry's throat.

Harry gasped for breath once Voldemort finally let him pull back, his whole body tingling with pleasure.

"You did so good, Harry," Voldemort mumbled, his fingers once against gently carding through Harry's hair. "You need not die. Just be mine from now on."

"I don't want to die," Harry whispered in complete honesty, leaning his head against Voldemort's thigh again as he breathed across Voldemort's softening cock. There was a strange, new taste in his mouth from Voldemort's semen but Harry didn't mind very much. That peaceful cloud was back, keeping his mind numb and his body satisfied with its recent release.

"I don't want you to die either," Voldemort assured him. "So live. It's your choice."

It was his choice, wasn't it? It wasn't Dumbledore's, no matter how much the old man wanted to see Harry dead, apparently. Harry was the one in charge of his own destiny, and Harry did not want to die.

Besides, Voldemort had mentioned earlier that they already had an agreement between them. There was the magical vow that kept them from killing each other. And they were bonded through sex magic. Harry could remain Voldemort's horcrux, though he had no idea what they meant outside of the walls of their muggle prison. Not that all those details had to be decided upon right at that moment.

Once they got out of there, they could hunt down Snape, keep all of Harry's friends safe and then figure out the rest later.

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, glancing up at Voldemort and meeting his burning red gaze. "I'll be your horcrux."

"You please me, Harry," Voldemort said in a tone that sent shivers of sheer pleasure down Harry's spine. "We'll figure everything else out later. For now, just be mine."

Harry nodded against Voldemort's thigh, relieved that they'd found a solution for that shocking turn of events so quickly.

"Say it," Voldemort demanded, tightening his hands briefly in Harry's hair. "Say you're mine."

Swallowing, Harry whispered in a hoarse voice, "I'm yours. Your horcrux."

Voldemort's answering grin was wide and victorious. "My dearest horcrux. I'm going to give you so much pleasure."

Harry's limp prick twitched as it still hung out of his opened jeans. Voldemort must have noticed Harry's response because he sat back and quickly tucked himself away again before urging Harry up.

"Come, sit in my lap." Voldemort pulled Harry down before he could protest. Harry felt a bit silly sitting on Voldemort's thigh until Voldemort pushed his jeans down a bit further and closed his hand around Harry's cock. "You're mine now, Harry, and I take care of what I own."

With a moan, Harry slumped against Voldemort while his cock was worked to full attention with expert strokes.

"Say it," Voldemort demanded, fisting Harry's cock ruthlessly.

That cloud of pleasure was now engulfing Harry's entire body while his cock dribbled all over Voldemort's fingers in anticipation. "I'm yours," Harry babbled, mind focussed entirely on chasing yet another climax. "I'm yours, I swear."

"For how long, Harry?" Voldemort asked, hand pumping steadily.

"Forever!" Harry threw his head back with a groan, toes curling as his climax came tantalizingly close. "I'm your horcrux forever."

"Swear it!"

"I swear I'm yours forever!" Harry cried out as his climax reached its peak and he came all over Voldemort's hand and robes. Harry's release went on and on and on, that amazing cloud growing thicker and thicker until all Harry knew was nothing but pleasure.

"You did so good," Voldemort whispered, playing gently with Harry's sensitive cock as it slowly grew limp. "I'm so proud of you, my dearest horcrux."

"Fuck," Harry groaned, blinking his eyes open against the sudden light of the conservatory while wondering what the hell had just happened. How could Voldemort distract him like that so easily? Yeah, Harry loved orgasms. Which sixteen year old guy didn't? But he'd never imagined that sharing orgasms with Voldemort would be so amazing that he was willing to say pretty much anything to get them.

"How many of them have you destroyed?" Voldemort asked out of the blue, still rolling Harry's limp dick around between his long fingers.

"What?" Harry stared at Voldemort with bleary eyes. Harry didn't know a whole lot anymore at that moment, but he did know he probably shouldn't be telling Voldemort that.

"You might as well tell me," Voldemort said in an utterly reasonable voice. "I now know you were tasked with destroying them."

Well, Voldemort had a point there, didn't he? "I destroyed the diary in my second year, and Dumbledore destroyed the ring last year but it cursed him pretty badly."

"That's it?" Voldemort asked, his expression guarded as he stared at Harry.

It was at this moment that Harry realized he was still sitting in Voldemort's lap. What the fuck? "Er…yeah…we went looking for the locket in that cave of horrors, but the real horcrux had already been stolen by someone. They left a fake locket in its place."

Voldemort sat up straight with so much force he almost pushed Harry off his lap entirely. Harry was barely able to place his feet on the floor to catch himself. "What did you just say?"

Harry awkwardly stood there, legs wobbling, half leaning against Voldemort, his jeans open and dick still out. "They left a note in the fake locket. Signed by someone named RAB. I have no clue who that is."

Voldemort slowly closed his eyes and released a resigned sigh. "So that is what happened to him."

"You know who it is?" Harry asked, at once burning with curiosity.

Voldemort nodded. "A follower of mine who disappeared and died suddenly. I always wondered what happened to him."

"Did those inferi get him?" Harry asked with a slight shudder. He finally tucked himself away and closed his jeans before standing up straight. Voldemort seemed willing to let him be for the moment so Harry moved back to his own chair and all but slumped into it, his body still warm and relaxed with his recent climaxes.

"Most likely. I will investigate once we get out of here." Voldemort gave Harry another measured look. "Any others than those three?"

"No," Harry said honestly as he stared out the window.

"Hm." Voldemort slowly got up from his chair, briefly glancing at Harry. "I'm going to figure out what we're having for dinner today." And with that Voldemort left the conservatory without a backwards glance.

Harry stared after him for a few moments before focusing back on himself. His mind was a whirlwind of contradicting thoughts. He was a fucking horcrux, which was still a mildly horrifying thought all on its own. But he'd also just spilled all of his horcrux secrets to Voldemort himself after Dumbledore had made it perfectly clear that the Dark Lord should never learn of their plans to destroy them.

But Dumbledore had wanted Harry dead, while Voldemort clearly wanted to keep Harry alive. He also seemed perfectly willing to give Harry lots of orgasms, which wasn't important in the grand scheme of things but which still kept Harry plenty distracted.

Harry's chest filled with a sharp sting of betrayal when he thought back to his private horcrux lessons with Dumbledore. All that time the old man had known Harry was a horcrux and he'd sat there while he instructed Harry on how to destroy them, never telling Harry the whole truth.

But that was always Dumbledore's strategy, wasn't it? Never tell Harry more than he absolutely needed to know and thus leaving him in the dark about pretty much everything. Harry wondered what Dumbledore had planned for him in the end. What would happen once Harry found and destroyed all the other horcruxes. Harry supposed one of Dumbledore's loyal stooges would tearfully tell Harry he really needed to fucking die at that moment to save the world.

It slowly began to dawn on Harry as he sat there staring out the window, trying to make sense of the many, many thoughts in his head, that he'd just really messed up every plan Dumbledore had ever had by telling Voldemort as much as he had about his horcruxes.

And he wasn't entirely sure how it had even happened.