A/N: This is a one-shot that I wrote when I was avoiding doing my homework today. I decided to post it, even though I think it's kind of choppy. Maybe I'll go back a fix it later. For now: Enjoy.

July 30, 1996 was one of the weirdest days of Harry Potter's life.

Oh, it started normally enough. Harry woke up early and made breakfast for himself. On the threats of his friends, Harry's aunt and uncle had been ignoring him diligently since he had returned from his 5th year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry stood up from the kitchen table and stretched. He picked up the plate he was using and brought it over to the sink, staring out the window above it. Privet Drive was as perfectly manicured and boring as always.

'I really don't want to be here anymore,' he thought despondently.

He didn't know how soon he'd get that wish.

A knock sounded at the door. Making sure he had his wand in his pocket, Harry tentatively went over to the threshold.

"Who is it?" he called through the wood.

"It's me, Harry," came the voice of Nymphadora Tonks. "Now let me in."

"How do I know it's really you?"

"I'm rubbish at household charms."

Harry looked confused for a second, before he let out the breath he was holding. She was sending him a clue. He pulled open the door to reveal a grinning Tonks.

"Wotcher, Harry!" she greeted cheerfully, twirling a long strand of bright red hair around her ringer.

"Hullo, Tonks. Come on in." He stepped back to allow her entrance.

"I can't stay for long. I just came to pick you up."

"Oh, that's too – "His mouth caught up to his ears. "What? I'm leaving?"

"Yup!"

"Yes! Let me go get my things!" He bounded up the stairs, forgetting to tread softly and not wake up the Dursleys. "Where are we going?" he called back over his shoulder.

"Hogwarts."

"We're not going to ... "He hesitated. "To Headquarters?"

"No," she replied softly. "Dumbledore wants to talk to you about something important. Said he wants to see you right away." Harry felt the familiar stab of anger in his chest at the though of the Headmaster. He still hadn't fully forgiven the man for what he had done, but he was working on it.

"That's everything!" He closed his trunk cheerily. "Let's go." They walked down the stairs and could hear Vernon Dursley grunting in his room.

"Shouldn't we tell them – "Tonks motioned to the ceiling. "– that you are leaving?"

"No, they won't care." At Tonks' sharp look, he relented. "Fine. I'll see you next summer!" he called up the stairs. A thump was heard from the bedroom as Harry slammed the door shut behind him.

Harry fell out of the fireplace in the Headmaster's office, before pulling himself up a dusting the ashes off his clothes. The said owner of this room was seated behind his desk, smiling benignly.

"Hello, Harry," said the old wizard. "Please take a seat."

"What did you want to see me about, Professor?" asked Harry, settling into a cushy armchair.

"There is something we need to discuss – "He started and Harry cut him off.

"You aren't hiding anything else from me, are you?" he said accusingly. The downward tilt of Dumbledore's head told Harry that his suspicions were correct. "I can't believe you!"

"Now, calm down, Harry. I only had your best interests in mind – "

"Like hell you did! What is it this time?"

"I might as well just say this bluntly. You are a Nymph, Harry."

"Now that's just – "He stopped. "Wait, a what?"

"A Nymph." He sighed. "It's a rare thing. Sometimes, when a witch and a wizard have a child, they produce a Nymph. It's – well, it's almost like a Veela – "

Without hearing anymore, the Boy Who Lived fainted.

Harry awoke sometime later, when the sun had set. He groggily sat up and tried to process his thoughts. 'I was dreaming, right?' he asked himself. 'I had to have been. How could I be – '

But when his eyes fell on a book next to him, entitled 'The Lifestyles of Magical Creatures', he knew it was all true.

And he whimpered.

They had read about Nymphs in History of Magic last year. Enchantingly beautiful people who stole the interest of all those around them. The Goblins had used them as a weapon to trap wizards in the 16th century.

He was one of them.

Harry slowly reached over and picked up the book, opening it to the bookmarked page.

'A Nymph is an enrapturing creation. Their beauty and mystery has been capturing the attention of generations.'

Harry skimmed down the page. He knew this part already.

'Nymph's are very outgoing. They like to test the boundaries. Most enjoy tempting things to see how far others will take it. They are naturally curious beings.'

'Tempt? What does it mean 'tempt'?'

'It is rare for a Nymph to settle down will one person. These creatures aren't known for being incredibly stable. They do not like to be close to a single person. It is not uncommon for them to switch partners almost weekly. They do not allow themselves to experience emotional connections with anyone.'

Oh.

'There are some individuals who are impervious to a Nymph's charms. It is in their genetic make-up. Also, it is a known fact that a Nymph will only affect human beings, not any other species or even half-breed humans.'

'I wonder who that covers. And half-breeds? Does that mean Lupin? And Hagrid? Thank Merlin.'

Harry shut the book. He wasn't sure if he wanted to read more.

'I can't be a Nymph. I just can't be. I'm not enrapturing! I'm not outgoing! There has to be a mistake!'

He stood up, ready to track down Dumbledore and make him see sense. He was not a Nymph! But the reflection in the mirror across the room made him stop dead.

It wasn't the image he was used to seeing everyday. A slim, lithe young man was in the middle of the office. Shiny, coal black hair lay on his head, delicately brushing the pale skin of his forehead. The scar there had faded into a slight gray line. And his eyes ... they peered back at him, a brilliant emerald green with smoke swirling in their depths.

He was so surprised that he didn't realize that he had turned sixteen twenty minutes before.

The next morning, Harry slowly sauntered down to breakfast. He wasn't in the mood to eat, but the grumbling of his stomach convinced him otherwise. Sighing softly, he pushed his way into the Hall.

Conversation stopped dead as this beautiful creature strode up to the High Table.

Now, Harry had always hated attention. And this wasn't endearing him to the action.

He clenched his teeth and tried to ignore the stares. He knew this would be coming. Dumbledore had returned to the office last night and the pair had a long chat. The Headmaster had warned him of the advances that would be coming his way now that he had fully grown, but ... still! These people were his teachers.

Dumbledore himself sat in his usual chair, eyes twinkling. Though Harry hadn't given it a thought before, the man hadn't reacted to his new look at all.

'He must be one of the people who aren't affected by a Nymph's allure.'

Harry sidled into a chair, only to find himself seated next to the resident Potions Master. He instinctively prepared for the usual insulting barbs that would be flung his way ...

... until he noticed that the Professor's mouth was slightly agape and that his eyes were glazed over.

'What the – '

"Po – Pot – Har – Po – Potter?" Snape stuttered.

Harry smiled coyly at him. "Yes, Professor?" he answered, before slapping a hand over his mouth.

'That did not just happen.'

He slowly removed his hand and looked down at his plate.

"Wow," was all Snape could seem to say. Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and a strange urge suddenly came over him.

"You know, Professor," he all but purred. "I still need some extra help in my Occulmency training. How about some private lessons? I can let you ... penetrate ... my mind." Snape gulped audibly and Harry placed a hand on his leg.

'What are you doing?' Harry mentally screamed.

'Nymph's like to tempt things,' answered the little voice in the back of his mind. 'And Severus sure is tempting – '

Harry abruptly pulled his hand away and could hear Snape groan under his breath.

"I have to go," Harry squeaked out, before fleeing the Great Hall.

'I did not just flirt with Snape!' he insisted, leaning on a wall. 'Oh, Merlin, I just flirted with Snape.' He slumped down to the floor.

"You can't control your nature, Harry," said Dumbledore, coming to stand next to the boy. Harry looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Can I drop Potions this year? Please?"

But it didn't stop there. By the end of the week Harry wanted desperately to drop almost all of his classes. He still had terrible images of McGonagall telling him she was a kitten in the sack.

Ten days after this torture began, Harry was called into Dumbledore's office. He bounded excitedly up the stairs, eager to visit the one place in the castle where he wasn't stared at like a piece of meat.

His grin broadened when he saw Tonks and Remus waiting for him. And then it drooped at the admiring stare Tonks was giving him.

"Hello, Harry," Tonks said, batting her eyelashes. Remus looked at her strangely.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, sounding confused.

"You didn't tell him?" Harry asked Dumbledore. The old wizard shook his head.

"Ah, Remus, there's something you ought to know ... "

"Let me get this straight ... "Remus began slowly. He seemed to mull over his thoughts for a few more moments. Then he snorted. "Snape?"

"Yes, Snape." Harry glared. "It's not funny.

"What about Snape?" Tonks asked, breaking out of her daze. "If he did anything to hurt you, Harry, I swear I'll kill – "

"Calm down, Tonks. He didn't do anything to me."

"If he even touched you," she warned and then smiled warmly at Harry. "Because you're mine, Harry?"

He arched an eyebrow. "I am?"

"Yes. You're forgetting. I'm a Metamorphmagus," she whispered in his ear. "I can be anything you want me to be." Harry unconsciously licked his lips. He stood abruptly, gathering his wits.

"You know, I think I'd better go take a walk." He left the room, abandoning a disappointed Tonks, a smiling Headmaster, and a cackling Remus.

Harry sat by the lake, trying to gather his thoughts.

'I can't keep doing this. I can't stand the way people act around me. And what about Ron and Hermione? They are my best friends. If they start acting like this ...' He shuddered.

Suddenly, a rustle and a flash of light from the bushes caught his notice.

His stomach dropped. 'This cannot be good.'

And it wasn't.

The next day's headlines were clear.

'Boy Who Lived: A Nymph!'

"Oh, bugger," Harry cursed under his breath as he read the title for the umpteenth time. He paced around the Quidditch Pitch.

'This can't be happening. This cannot be happening. It just can't!'

A sharp object hit him on the back of the head and he blacked-out.

When Harry awoke, he was in a dimly lit room. He sat up, wincing over the pain in his head, and looked around. Where was he?

A voice in the shadows answered that question. A very familiar voice.

"Hello, Mr. Potter."

Harry spun his neck around sharply and locked gazes with the Dark Lord himself.

"Voldemort," he said softly. He vaguely registered that Voldemort shuddered at the sound.

'Oh, no, not him, too.'

"You know, Mr. Potter, you are very hard to get in contact with. I've had my Death Eaters scouring the area around Hogwarts for months in hopes of finding a way to catch you and that idiotic Headmaster off guard." His eyes trailed over Harry's body. "But when I saw the Prophet to day, I just had to speed things up."

He ran a finger along Harry's face and the teen flinched. "Harry Potter – my very own Nymph." A small smile played about his lips. "And, my, my, you are a pretty one, aren't you?"

Harry jerked away. "Don't touch me!"

"And feisty, too. You've got a spirit that has always shined through, Potter. And I will delight in breaking it." He brought his lips up to Harry's ear, his tongue darting out to lick the pale skin on his neck. "I want you to want me, Harry. I want you to ache for my touch on your body, to plead for me to please you. I want you to beg." He drew Harry in for a deep kiss and Harry bit his lip, hard.

"Never."

Harry waited nervously in the chamber that had been giver to him. Voldemort had dropped him off here, stationing a guard outside the door. Finally, the entrance opened and Avery walked in.

"Potter," he said, trying not to let his gaze stay on Harry for too long. "Our Master wants to see you. He's waiting in the meeting hall."

Harry slowly stood and followed the man down a series of twisting corridors, into a large room. The sea of black-cloaked figures parted to let him pass.

"Harry," Voldemort greeted, seated in a high-backed chair at the front of the room. "Please, have a seat." He motioned to a slightly smaller chair next to him. Harry reluctantly took his place. "Now, as you can see," he addressed his Death Eaters. "Mr. Potter has graciously joined us. He is not to be harmed while he is here. Is that clear." It wasn't a question and none of them would be suicidal enough to disobey the order. Voldemort turned back to Harry. "Harry?" The Nymph stared stubbornly ahead, ignoring the Dark Lord. "Harry?" Voldemort growled impatiently and grasped Harry painfully by the chin, forcing his head to turn. "I won't tolerate your insolence."

Harry yanked away from his grasp. "I don't like be ordered around."

"You will listen to me or – "

"You know, maybe I'll find someone who is a little nicer to entertain me tonight." He strode out of the room.

Harry stormed angrily down the corridor, still muttering furiously to himself. And he ran straight into Lucius Malfoy.

"Sorry, Mr. Potter," he said helping the younger boy up nervously.

"It's quite alright," Harry replied and started to continue in his inner rant when Lucius' voice stopped him.

"Did you really mean what you said before?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "To the Dark Lord. About finding someone to ... satisfy your needs."

"Why? Interested?"

"Isn't everyone?" Lucius answered absentmindedly, looking him up and down.

Harry smirked and slowly walked towards Lucius, who gulped and backed into a wall. He placed his hand on the blond man's chest and leaned up to his ear.

"You know, I've heard some interesting things about you," Harry purred. "You're supposed to be a very gifted man." He raked his fingers even lower and Lucius gasped. "It seems some of the rumors were true," he said with a pointed look downwards.

Harry abruptly pulled away and sashayed seductively down the corridor, calling back over his shoulder, "Have a good evening, Mr. Malfoy."

The man in question slid down the wall and groaned.

Harry smiled to himself. 'That was fun.'

"So you've got guard duty tonight?" Harry asked as he leaned against the door frame of his room.

Lucius nodded shortly, avoiding eye contact.

"Aw, you're not still shaken up from before, are you?"

There was silence.

Harry pouted. "Well, that just won't do." He waved into the room. "Come in, have a drink."

"I - I - I really shouldn't."

"Please?" He looked up at Lucius pleadingly.

He sighed. "Alright. Just for a minute."

Lucius followed Harry into the room and gazed around at the dimly lit surroundings.

"Have a seat."

He sat stiffly at the end of the couch while Harry fiddled around with something in a cabinet. He turned back, holding two glasses of wine. He handed one glass to Lucius ...

....and sat down in his lap.

Lucius sputtered. "What are you doing?"

"Why? Does it bother you?" he asked innocently. "I can get off if you want me to."

Lucius tried not to focus on the double meaning of those words. "No, no, it's fine."

"Good." Harry took a sip of wine. "So, lovely weather we've been having."

"You sat in my lap to talk about the 'weather'?"

"We can talk about something else. I've always wondered why you wear those robes." He fiddled with the collar. "It leaves way too much to the imagination." They were moving steadily closer to one another, their faces only inches away. "Like whether you're a boxer or a brief man?"

The older man's eyes widened.

"Don't be so tense, Lucius. Relax." Harry wiggled a bit and Lucius groaned.

"Don't do that," he said weakly.

"Why not?"

"Because if you keep it up, I might not be able to control myself much longer," he answered bluntly.

"Maybe that's the desired effect."

"Are you - you sure ab - about that?"

"If I wasn't, would I do this."

Harry leaned in and kissed him. A small chaste kiss on the lips, but ... Lucius was in heaven. The blood was cut of from his brain and his senses were filled with ... Harry. It was intoxicating.

'Stop thinking. Relax,' Lucius thought to himself. 'Just act.'

Lucius ran his tongue along the boy's lips, pushing his way through, and causing Harry to moan into his mouth. That was all the invitation he needed.

In an instant, Lucius was lying on top of Harry and they were kissing fiercely. He trailed his mouth downwards, planting kisses along Harry's collar bone, and began un-doing the buttons of his nightshirt with his teeth. There were no more thoughts. He just focused on Harry. He needed more.

The light tracing of Lucius' tongue on his chest and the biting at his nipples caused Harry to yelp, urging Lucius further. He moved lower and began to gently kiss along the waistband of Harry's pants ...

... when a knock came at the door.

The pair stopped abruptly.

"Quick, behind the wardrobe!" Harry hissed. Lucius scurried off, while Harry hastily threw on a bathrobe, setting himself down on the couch with a book from the coffee table. Noticing the extra wine glass, he chucked it over his shoulder and pleasantly said, "Come in!"

Voldemort entered the room, with a curious look at Harry. "What have you been doing?"

"Oh, just reading."

"Your face is flushed."

"It's a 'really' good book."

"Th - " He stopped as Harry looked him in the eyes.

"What did you come here for?" Harry questioned, changing the subject.

Voldemort shook himself out of his stupor. "I just wanted to ... apologize for before."

"You're apologizing for that small fight?" Harry said hastily. "It's okay, I had already forgotten." He stood up. "I think I'm going to head to bed. I'm very tired."

"Alright. If you need anything, just ask Nott. He's on duty right now." Harry walked Voldemort back out the door. "Good night, Harry." He watched as the Dark Lord turned the corner, then frantically motioned for Lucius to come out.

Nott's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he took in the man's disheveled condition. He opened his mouth to comment when Voldemort came back down the hall. Harry shoved Lucius back into the room and tried to act casual.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Would you like to join me for breakfast tomorrow, Harry?" Voldemort asked.

"Of course."

Voldemort smiled and left again. For good this time. Hopefully.

Harry quickly pushed Lucius out of his chambers. "Go. Before he comes back." And with that, he shut the door.

Lucius straightened his robes when he noticed Nott smirking at him. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just ... you might want to wipe that grin off your face if you don't want to get caught."

Lucius immediately tried to school his face back into it's usual 'I'm-holier-than-thou-so-bow-down-and-kiss-my-feet' look, but, no matter what, he couldn't get rid of that goofy grin.

"I want all the juicy details later, by the way," Nott added.

The grin grew. "Sorry, I don't kiss and tell."

Harry sat in the library of Riddle Manor a week later. He grimaced when Voldemort walked in the door.

'Can't I ever get away from that man?'

"There you are, Harry. I have been looking all over for you."

"Well, you found me. What do you want?"

Voldemort almost chuckled at the irritated sound in Harry's voice, but stopped when he looked at Harry's neck.

A large, red mark was ablaze there for all to see.

"Who?" Voldemort snarled.

"Who what – "Harry noticed where Voldemort's eye rested and he reached up to touch his neck. Voldemort grabbed him by his shoulders and threw him up against a wall.

"How many times to I have to tell you that You. Are. Mine." He bit down on the other side of Harry's neck, causing the boy to howl in pain. Voldemort stared dangerously at him. "Now who?"

"Lucius."

"Malfoy!!!" Voldemort roared and he burst into the small office that Lucius currently occupied. The blond-man looked up at from the post he was reading in fear.

"Yes, my Lord?"

Voldemort ground his teeth together and stalked up to the desk, pushing all the books and papers off of it. "How could you! What did you do to my Harry?"

"He's not yours," Lucius said quietly.

"What. Did. You. Say?"

"I said he's not yours," he reiterated a little louder. "I love him." He clenched a letter opener in his fist.

"Lucius, what do you know about love? Have you ever experienced it before? Your family never loved you. All they saw was an heir to the Malfoy name. You treat your own son the same way, so he doesn't love you. Your own wife married you out of duty. No, Lucius, even if you ever experience love, you won't know what it is. You don't love, Harry."

"Yes, I do."

"You don't love, Harry," he repeated angrily. "I won't allow it. He is mine. There is nothing you can do about it."

"I can do this." And with that, he plunged the letter opener into his masters' heart.

Voldemort sunk to the floor, a small trickle of blood coming out of the corner of his mouth. He looked up at the horrified Lucius with wide eyes.

"Lucius, what have you done?"

Lucius stood there, shell-shocked. He never even noticed the green light from the fallen man's wand as it sped towards him.

And that's was where Harry found them an hour later. He stood in the doorway, regarding the scene with a detached air. Then he turned and left the room forever.