A/N:

There is smut in this chapter!
If you don't like it, don't read it!
If you do like it; enjoy! And please tell me about it.

Also, this will be the last time I will warn about any kind of concensual smut, unless people get up in arms over it. If there is consent, no matter who, what and how, I won't warn against it.

I will still warn against any hint of anyhting without consent.

43. Birthday Activities

"Happy Birthday, husband mine!" Harry smiled at him from behind the lunch table, a table filled with pungent and delicious smelling food and two big cakes.

Voldemort blinked at him before carefully returning the smile. He had already gotten more birthday wishes and cards and gifts than he would care for, as he did every Yule and then every birthday too. He was still angry at the fool that had let his birthday slip, once upon a time. Now, instead of being completely forgotten and overlooked as it had been his entire childhood and younger years, it was a day for flattery, adulation, and downright toadyism. He had preferred the day to be overlooked.

Not that he would tell Harry that when the man not only had made a fully functioning kitchen in their wing during the last week, but also spent a lot of time in said kitchen refreshing knowledge and skills he himself had professed to abhor having. Harry claimed that he despised cooking, but it seemed he was very good at it, nevertheless, if the sight and smells were anything to go by.

Voldemort sat down at the head of the table, as he usually did, with Harry to his right.

"This smells delicious, Harry," Voldemort declared, and he wasn't lying. Harry had made them all eat take-away from Muggle restaurants on several occasions, and while Voldemort still preferred a nice, bloody steak to almost everything else, he found the spicy dishes a nice change of pace, and Harry highly enjoyed that kind of food.

"I am glad you think so," Harry said and handed Voldemort the dish he knew Voldemort preferred of the lot of them, a slightly spicy red curry dish with chicken. "Dinner will be steak and creamed potatoes, and these cakes are two of five I have made the last two days." Harry hummed. "I might never enjoy cooking, but baking is apparently another matter. I wasn't able to decide what I should try or what you might like, so …" He gave a half shrug, and they began eating.

Voldemort inwardly smiled. His husband had not only made a huge lunch by hand, and by the sounds of it planned to make the dinner too, but he had made five cakes because he wasn't sure what Voldemort might prefer. For most of his adult life Voldemort had taken what he wanted and never truly wanted for anything, but this was the first time ever he had felt pampered. It was an unexpected but pleasant feeling.

The meal was delicious, and Voldemort only managed to taste one of the cakes, a fresh tasting confection of meringue, vanilla cream and berries. He had never tasted it before and liked it enough to ask Harry if that cake would be at tea too. Harry smiled and said that it would be if he wanted it to.

The memory of the quiet lunch with just his husband and housemates got him through the rest of the day filled with sycophancy and fawning, empty well wishes and some extremely expensive gifts and grand gestures.

It was ridiculous, the lot of it.

Tea was served with all five cakes, three kinds of scones and three different kinds of finger sandwiches. Apparently, Harry had had fun with this too.

The gifts from Astoria and Draco felt more thoughtful than any so far. A new book on non-magical politics and parties, to get inspiration from in the future, as Astoria put it. The non-magicals might have their troubles, but they had very varied methods of governing, and one of them might be worth emulating. There was also a warm winter cloak in black wool trimmed with fur, adorned with dark green and silver snakes, and reinforced with runes for wind and water resistance, warmth and against wear and tear. As his own had seen close to a decade of much use now, that was appreciated.

Harry looked uncomfortable when he admitted that he didn't have a gift.

"You see, I got an idea some days ago, but right now I don't know if it will even be feasible. First, I have to figure out if it can be done and then I have to actually do it and …" He pulled a hand through his hair. "It will take some time. Months, most likely. But I think you will like it, very much so, if I can do it." He swallowed. "I'm sorry. I should probably have found something else."

"Now you have me intrigued, husband mine. I will wait with anticipation," Voldemort said with a small smirk. And he knew he would.

Harry's gift to him at Yule had been something of a wonder. A flat, rectangular glass box with engraved runes that, when tapped in the right way, showed memories trapped in the box. The box could only hold so much, and you couldn't change the memories, but still, it had been fascinating and something Voldemort had never heard of before. When asked, Harry had admitted that it was something that he and Miss Granger had made together during the war, and that Miss Granger had made sure to patent it by now, but Harry was allowed to make them as he wished. The memories in the box, which were of a Shakespeare play, were Harry's own. Harry had compared it to a television and then had to explain what a television was to Astoria and Draco, Voldemort knew enough of non-magicals to know of the concept.

If Harry could make something like that in a matter of weeks, what would he manage in months?

The day's biggest surprise came after they had calmed Harry's soul shard that evening. Harry had been mostly silent, contemplative and a bit more rigid than he had been lately, and when he finally turned towards Voldemort after the soul shard had gotten its due, he was biting his lip in an uncommon show of nerves. The mind doors between them weren't open. Harry had had his more closed after the discovery of the crimes of Remus Lupin and had admitted that he needed to keep that distance for now, because his own feelings were a bit too much, he couldn't handle anything extra, not on a regular basis, at least. Voldemort hadn't protested, but occasionally, like now, he missed the possibility to read Harry's feelings like that.

Voldemort waited, robe in his hand, while Harry seemed to gather both his wits and his courage.

"So, I have a suggestion for you. I won't call it a birthday gift, because it's not, more like a birthday activity, something we can do together, if you wish. And if you don't wish to do it, now or ever, then that isn't a problem either, of course. But I have been wondering …" Harry finally looked right at him. "You know how my Naga-self sees you as its, my, mate, and that I so far don't know exactly what that entails as I have only been in that shape twice since I showed you, and never with you close by … Would you be interested in finding out what that means, with me, tonight?"

Voldemort heard his heartbeat in his chest, almost felt it against his skin, and his mouth became dry.

"I would be interested in that, yes."

"I … If you remember my tail … because of my instincts … I honestly don't know how I will react." Harry looked him in the eyes again and Voldemort understood that Harry worried he would step across some of Voldemort's boundaries without being able to stop himself. "I'm less human like that, than I'm now. I want, I need, to believe that I always will stop when asked to, but … I give you permission to Stun me, or curse me or toss me across the room if I don't react properly to a no." He swallowed. "If you want to try, even knowing that … then I very much would like to figure out what it means to have a mate, as a Naga." He gave a small smile, eyes shining. "Um, but as I don't really know how penetrative sex works for Nagas, we probably should skip that, this time."

"If you cannot stop yourself, then I will stop you," Voldemort promised and saw how Harry relaxed a bit more at his words, "and I concur in that we should take it slow. It would be best to avoid any surprises."

Harry nodded fervently and Voldemort let his robe fall back onto the chair he just picked it up from. They both were dressed only in thin trousers.

"Any boundaries, except kissing on the lips, that I should know about, my own?" Voldemort asked with a velvety purr. It had become easier to do with practice, even though he sometimes still did it without meaning to, too. Voldemort took two steps closer and was now close enough to touch Harry. Harry held his gaze, his pupils widening.

"Don't step on my tail," the words were no more than a breathy whisper, and then Harry did have a tail again. Voldemort froze and just took in the beauty that was Harry as a Naga. About eight metres of massive, dark green coils, the lighter emerald-green on the front, or stomach side, of the tail. The same emerald-green scales in a pattern along his forehead and temples, some down his sides and his arms too, they shimmered in the firelight. Harry's green eyes gleamed with blown vertical pupils and a long, split tongue slipped out to taste the air over his now plump pink lips, lips that hid deadly fangs. His face was also shaper, more angular and his hair long and very silky looking.

Voldemort swallowed hard. Already desire and possessiveness roared inside him.

"May I touch you, my own?" He wasn't sure he could have stopped the endearment from falling from his lips if he had tried.

Harry was his.

Had to be his.

His. His. His.

And he is always his own person, first and foremost, he forced the thought through his mind. Because the best method of losing Harry, losing his trust, his willingness to spend time with him and talk to him and to share a bed with him, was to forget that Harry always was his own person, before anything else. No matter what Voldemort really felt about that fact. If he forgot, even for a moment, he risked losing Harry and the peace between them.

And that simply would not do.

"Pleassse," it was a slow hiss, but not Parseltounge.

Voldemort reached out a hand and let it trail slowly down Harry's face, over the scales there. Then his hand stroked through Harry's hair and down his face again. Harry closed his eyes and leaned into the touch with a hiss of pleasure. His massive tail wound around them both and Voldemort couldn't keep down a gasp when one of the coils touched him. He shuddered in pleasure, it felt so good. When he focused on Harry's face again, the glint in those green eyes were unquestionably hungry. Harry's tongue slipped out to sample scent again and a small hiss escaped him when his eyes landed on Voldemort's neck, where his pulse beat hard and fast.

"You want me," Harry smirked, "I can sssmell it. It sssmellsss ssso deliciousss." Then he scrunched up his nose and Voldemort couldn't stop a low chuckle at the sight, but continued to stroke Harry's face and neck. The cool, pale skin with the green scales felt very good under his fingers and Harry leaned into the touch and rubbed his face against his hand. Very uncharacteristic for Harry, but also very welcome.

"What'sss with the hisssing?" Harry complained.

"You tell me, husband mine, you are after all the one who does it," Voldemort said. "Not that it bothers me, not at all."

"Good, then I don't care." Even without the prolonged s-sounds, there was a hissing quality to his words. His tongue went fast in and out and when Voldemort stroked his cheek again Harry leaned hard into the hand, rubbed the side of his face against it and made a movement so Voldemort's hand stroked his neck behind his ear and down. Harry made a hiss of pleasure.

Several coils looped suddenly around Voldemort's waist and legs and dragged him in close to Harry. Voldemort gasped and the tight hold combined with the closeness to Harry and the feel of his tail against his skin, almost made him come right then and there. He shuddered and actually whimpered with lust. If this had been anyone but Harry, he would have hated giving this obvious sign of his weakness, and he would have felt humiliated. As it was, he let a hand slip into Harry's silky hair and relaxed as much as he could in Harry's tight grip. Harry pushed his face into Voldemort's neck, his tongue traced his pulse leisurely.

"Neither do I care about the fact that you sssmell of lussst now, husssband mine. You are mine. My mate. I give you leave to desssire me, in thisss form and any other. You are my mate. You ssshould desssire me. You sssmell ssso tasssty."

Something occurred to Voldemort, and as he was the one who was more like his usual self, even if he now was painfully aroused and had a bit of difficulty thinking straight, he was the one who had to bring it up. Unfortunately.

"Harry, academic question, do you believe that you are capable of discussing, say, arithmetic theory right now?"

Harry narrowed his glowing green eyes. "Why would I want too?" The words were still slightly hissed, but the gaze, while irritated, was focused. "I have my mate in my coilsss, a mate that sssmellsss enticing and eager for my touch, asss I am for hisss. Why would I want discusss arithmancy?"

Harry leaned in and put his arms around Voldemort while brushing Voldemort's neck with his lips. Voldemort jerked and moaned in his coils and arms, and felt how he couldn't possibly get out of the tight grip Harry had on him. He was stuck in his husband's smooth coils, and perversely, instead of the thought making him panic, it made him even harder, ready to come, or to simply melt in Harry's grasp.

"It is not merely your speech that has altered," Voldemort said hoarsely, "so has your speech pattern and your behaviour, sufficiently so for me to speculate if you now are entirely instinct driven. Given your response just now, I believe that while instinct is prevalent, you are fully capable of reasoning and making decisions. Had that not been the case I would have ended this now."

Harry hugged him closer, his thinner tail tip winding up one of Voldemort's bare legs, beneath his trousers. Then his trousers vanished, and he stood naked in Harry's arms and coils. Usually, it was Harry that stood in his arms, but Voldemort couldn't say that he minded too much. Not when his husband's, his mate's, soft and glossy coils wrapped him like they did. Every movement Harry made sent shivers of pleasure up and down his back. His cock was hard enough to ache now and when Harry moved, it rubbed partly against Harry's belly and partly against the scales on his lower abdomen.

"Thank you, my mate, for looking after me ssso well," Harry whisper-hissed, his tail moving around Voldemort, the tip of it stroking the inside of his thigh now.

"Harry!" Voldemort gasped when the tip moved even higher.

Harry froze, but didn't move away. Maybe he was waiting for an explanation, or maybe he was fighting with himself, believing that he should stop and move away, and not being able to because of his instincts. Voldemort didn't want that; he didn't want that at all.

"If you persist, you will undo me, my own," he whispered huskily.

Harry hissed in something Voldemort thought was pleasure and rubbed his face against Voldemort's cheek, neck and shoulder, and his chest against Voldemort's chest, making the friction against Voldemort's cock even more intense. Voldemort moaned.

"I would like that, my mate. I want your ssscent on me, marking me as yoursss."

Those words, the thought of that concept, combined with the wonderful feeling of Harry's tail around him and the friction he was receiving from Harry rubbing against him, pushed him over the edge and pleasure rammed into him so hard that he spasmed in Harry's grip and saw white.

His whole body was still pulsating with pleasure when Voldemort was able to gather himself enough to focus outward again. He shivered with the lingering pleasure and moaned when he felt that he still was held in Harry coils with Harry tucked tight towards him, or was it Voldemort that was tucked tight towards Harry now, as Harry was the one who held him. No matter. They were close and Harry's face and lips pressed against his face, then his neck, then his shoulders and chest, his hands stroked over his chest and arms. Harry rubbed against his side and his coils moved around him, stroking against him and keeping him close. Harry was cooing and hissing in a way that Voldemort equalled to a cat purring. His movements were getting slightly more frenzied by the minute.

"Ssso deliciousss," Harry hissed. "The ssscent, the sssound of my mate coming unravelled. My mate." Lips pushed against the skin beneath Voldemort ear, making him shiver. "More of that, my mate."

Voldemort wanted nothing more than to give in to the touch and the pleasure and float, but Harry was so very different from his normal self, and this was an experiment. He couldn't just let things be and consequences be damned. Because he didn't actually know the possible consequences, neither physical nor mental.

Not only was Harry now extremely tactile when he usually only tolerated the barest touch outside special circumstances, but the fact that he laid an obvious claim on Voldemort, as his mate, was also unusual. They often used the term 'husband mine' on each other, but this felt like Harry considered it more than a simple term, this was a title, a promise. Harry the Naga was truly staking claim on Voldemort, and while Voldemort had no immediate problem with that, he didn't know how that affected Harry, in this form or any other, now or later. And he needed to know that Harry was aware enough to at the very least know what he was doing.

Harry also sounded, and acted, younger right now. Or maybe it was more correct to say he sounded and acted less troubled, less burdened with trauma and a bloody past. All this combined forced Voldemort to stretch out a hand and put it against Harry's face to catch his gaze. Harry's pupils were so blown they were round.

"Harry, what are the five runes of the Elder Futhark, beginning with sowilo?"

Harry hissed at him, this time it was a sound of irritation. He had heard it often enough from Nagini. He felt his abdomen tighten and tingle. That sound really should not lead to that response in him.

"You are behaving very unlike yourself, and this is an experiment, we need to understand how this impacts you; how it will impact both of us. And if you are too far gone mentally to compute facts or recall what is occurring, then the experiment will be unsuccessful. So, Elder Futhark from sowilo."

Harry gazed at him for a long moment. "I am fine …" he said slowly, minimal hiss in his words. "I recognise that I do not act as I normally do. Part of it is my Naga personality that holds less on to trauma than my more human one." His words were still slow and carefully chosen. "Nagas are more like animals that way. What is done is done, and in the past; I survived. It will hamper the future if my mind holds on to it. It is freeing, as I believe I told you once before.

"The rest of it is instincts; the fact that I not only have found my mate, but that I hold you now. Your ssscent isss on me. It isss heavenly. Mine." He slipped and hissed in the last bit. "Sowilo. Tiwas. Berkanan. Ehwas. Mannaz. And thank you, my mate, for checking in on me, yet again, but I believe we are both sssafe for now. I only wisssh to ssstake my claim, it ssshould not change anything in our everyday life."

"So, stop interrupting your enjoyment?" Voldemort hummed with mirth at the put-upon look Harry gave him after his words. He believed there was a chance that Naga-Harry was as possessive as Voldemort usually was. It was a strangely pleasing thought.

Harry pushed his face against Voldemort's neck and began kissing the soft skin while his coils moved around him, stroking him, and Harry's hands caressed his face, arms and chest.

"I want more," Harry hissed. "More of your ssscent on me. You desssire me. You are not allowed to forget that."

Yes, most certainly possessive, and jealous of Voldemort's attentions, too. He could absolutely live with the thought of that. Voldemort moaned at his words and arched into his touch, unable to stop himself, unable to even want to stop.

"You do not give me much choice in that regard," Voldemort assured him huskily. "You are very desirable, my own."

"Good," Harry purred against his ear. "Mine." The last words had been spoken in Parseltongue and Voldemort shuddered and gasped at the word and the meaning. If he was Harry's, then Harry had to be his too. He was beginning to believe that Harry meant that, at least in this shape.

Harry's coils stroked against his torso, his thighs, went around and between his legs and generally made him feel lightheaded with the pleasure of it. He was already getting hard again and moaned when he felt Harry's hands in his hair and his lips pressed hard against his throat. He could feel Harry's fangs through his lips and that made him arch again and gasp and then he spasmed in Harry's grip and came, held close against his husband, his mate. Marking him with his cum, his scent, just as Harry wanted, if he understood everything right. Given Harry's hiss of pleasure, he thought he did.

Harry was moving against him again, rubbing, stroking, nuzzling his neck, pulling at his hair, getting increasingly frenetic. Voldemort began stroking his face and body, his torso and the upper part of his tail, to try and give something back, some relief, because he realised that he didn't know how he could give the right kind of pleasure to give release to his husband right now. He stroked a hand down Harry's tail as far as he could reach and then up again, only to feel the scales give a bit and he found a slit in the middle of the tail, a little below where Harry's crotch would be when he was human. Harry gasped and mewled against Voldemort's neck when his fingers brushed the slit the second time. He buried his hands in Voldemort's hair and pulled and pushed him with his tail, so Voldemort ended up on top.

"I am so sorry, my own, we said no kind of penetration and I believe that slit to be connected to your reproductive organs." He was quite certain that it was, and even if he now felt slick coming from the slit, he was not about to cross any limits. Voldemort continued to stroke down Harry's side and his tail, seeing if anything seemed better than anything else.

Harry whimpered, arched up into him, rubbed his face against his shoulder and then bent his head back and a bit to the side, exposing his neck to Voldemort. A startlingly submissive gesture, given how aggressive Harry had been so far.

"Pleassse, bite me," he whimpered. "Pleassse, mark me."

Voldemort bowed his head and brushed his mouth against the spot where Harry's neck met his shoulder and the whole of Harry's body spasmed, his arms tightened, and a hand pushed Voldemort's head harder down towards Harry's neck. Harry squirmed under him.

"Mark me, pleassse!" he begged and panted. Impossible to resist, even if he had wanted to.

Voldemort opened his mouth and set his teeth carefully into Harry's flesh. Harry squirmed harder and hugged him tighter.

"Yesss. Pleassse."

Slowly Voldemort put more pressure in his bite and felt how Harry got more and more excited, heard how his words became whimpers and moans and then only hissing while his tail lashed against Voldemort and on the floor. Harry held him tight, so Voldemort wouldn't be inadvertently thrown off him. Then Voldemort reached a point, just as he began to worry if he would break skin, and Harry mewled and hissed and spasmed underneath him and almost crushed him in his inhumanly strong grip.

Voldemort gave his husband, his mate, a few moments to calm down again, because he was quite certain that Harry had reached a peak. Harry let up on the grip around him, just a bit, and Voldemort licked the spot he had bitten. Harry whimpered and shivered and panted before he slowly melted under Voldemort's slow ministrations and lay still.

Voldemort didn't stop giving that spot attention before Harry's grip loosened completely and Voldemort could lay down beside him instead of on top of him. The mark on Harry's throat was red and it would no doubt bruise. And damn, if seeing the mark didn't make Voldemort aroused yet again. It felt a bit unreal, how much he liked seeing that mark on his husband, his mate. But then, Harry had literally begged him to mark him.

"In case you were wondering, that, right there," Harry showed off his throat again and continued in a hoarse whisper, "is one of my buttons." He snuggled close to Voldemort and Voldemort hugged him towards his chest and let a hand stroke slowly down his back, even as his cock was hardening between them. He could feel Harry smirk against his shoulder and remembered that Harry more or less had demanded that Voldemort should desire him, so Harry obviously had no trouble with Voldemort's arousal. After all, being aroused did not equate doing anything about it.

Voldemort thought a bit about Harry's confession.

"Is being bitten your button, or being marked or the pain?" Voldemort asked.

"All of the above?" Voldemort could feel Harry's smile before Harry kissed his neck. "Why choose? But it requires the right situation and person, as well as a sense of security. You are my mate, so you are safe."

"How much will that change when you are not a Naga?" Voldemort asked curiously.

"Not enough to truly matter, I believe, but when I'm human-ish, wait till I ask you before you do it again. That is, if you want to do it again at all?"

Voldemort stroked the mark and Harry shivered in his arms and gave a small moan making even more blood rush downwards.

"I think I would like that, very much."

"Oh, good." Harry breathed deeply. "I'm calmer again now, somehow. That's good. That, what just happened, was one of the reasons I haven't been a Naga anywhere close to you before now, after that first time. The two times I did shift I could feel the pull of the mating instincts, they were … incredibly strong, and as I didn't know exactly what the instincts wanted …" He swallowed. "I couldn't get myself to accept that, to just try, before now."

"Because I now feel safe enough to take such a risk with?"

"Yes, very much so. But also, if something goes awry in my brain now and I decide that I don't want to change back, Hermi will be here tomorrow, and she knows the dangers of being a Naga. Not in connection to mating, but the more general dangers. She has dragged me back a time or two, when I have given in."

"Please, explain, my own. What dangers?" Voldemort could feel a dread claw in his chest. What had Harry done, what had Harry let Voldemort do, without warning him about known dangers?!

"I told you earlier; it's easier, quieter, to be a Naga. The world is less painful, even if I still hold all my memories; the feelings are less extreme, less soul-destroying. It is a lure I so far have managed to keep away from, not constantly, as I have spent periods of time as Naga, but I have avoided retreating into this shape, and remain like this. Mix that with the Naga mating instinct and I didn't know how I would react, long term; if I would find the will to change back."

"And you are of the opinion that Miss Granger is able to compel you to change back, if you should not find the will yourself?" Voldemort asked quietly, the dread on the retreat now. He didn't like what he was hearing, but Harry had made sure to be safe, even if he hadn't informed Voldemort of the danger.

"Without a doubt, and it's just Granger, at least until she invites you to use Hermi. Not Miss Granger and not Hermione, she will allow Hermione Granger when introducing herself and signing documents, but only then. I'm one of a handful of people that won't get cursed for calling her Hermione, but I try very hard not to do it. The name grates on her nerves now, as I assume Tom grates on yours, so please try and avoid it."

Voldemort could feel his teeth ache and his fury snap just by Harry mentioning that hated name, so he nodded.

"I will bear in mind to use simply Granger on your friend," he assured.

"My family, that's what she is," Harry said in a low voice before bowing his head and hunching his shoulders as if preparing for a blow. Physical or mental, Voldemort couldn't know.

"Very well, your family." Voldemort couldn't, wouldn't, refuse him that. He put his lips to Harry's temple and then he touched that marked spot on his throat again, almost involuntarily, and felt Harry shiver against him, this time with a small mewling sound while he tried to bury his face against Voldemort's neck.

"But, my own, please consider informing me about such perils before you risk them, even if you already have your plans and your safety-net. Even if I cannot do anything, I would prefer to know about the risk."

"I will do my best to remember that, mate."

"Do you want me to clean you up?" Harry's green scales and pale skin were flecked with white cum.

"No!" it was a hissing growl, then he froze for a moment. "Hmm, sorry about that. I meant to say that the scent of you on me is something I want. I will remove it when I'm ready to be human again."

"I gathered as much," Voldemort chuckled, caressing Harry's back, stroking his tail and carding through his hair. Harry pressed closer to him, tightened his coils and hissed in pleasure. After a few minutes he began moving, and because of the way he moved, Voldemort could very easily guess what he wanted. He was purposely rubbing against Voldemort's stomach, with his cock pressed between them.

"You are an insatiable little thing, are you not?" The words were out of his mouth before he could think. Apparently, a lot of good sex removed all his filters and he almost expected Harry to take offence at the words or the overly affectionate tone, especially the word 'little'. He truly hadn't been thinking clearly.

"I'm bigger than you, by a lot," Harry murmured against his neck, and the next moment Voldemort found himself completely encircled by Harry, he didn't touch the bed at all. "But insatiable, yes, yes, I am, my mate. I can smell your lust, mate, your desire for me." Harry's tongue flicked out, tasting the air. Harry's coils were moving around him, stroking his bare skin, holding him. When a thinner part of his tail came between them, directly over his cock, Voldemort only had a moment to register the wonderful feeling before pleasure ripped through him again, almost painful in its intensity.

That he was able to reach orgasm several times in fast succession, didn't mean it was entirely comfortable after a certain number of orgasms. Harry didn't stop moving, neither tail nor hands, and the pleasure got prolonged until Voldemort was panting and wrung out.

He touched the mark on Harry's throat in retaliation and Harry hissed, threw his head back to expose his neck, and dragged Voldemort on top of him again, holding him tight while trashing and mewling beneath him. Voldemort took the silent invitation, if it could be called silent, and bit down right on the mark. Harry spasmed underneath him and Voldemort wondered if that spot simply was that sensitive or if something about Harry bringing Voldemort to his own release almost brought Harry to the same state, and that he then only needed a small push to go over the edge.

They lay cuddled together, quiet, for a long while after that. Harry slowly uncoiled from around Voldemort, so Voldemort was able to tuck Harry against him, but Harry's tail still lay draped over them, barely moving now and again. Voldemort thought Harry dozed off and he kept him close, but curiosity finally drove him to try to wriggle out and away from Harry.

Harry startled awake with a hiss.

"Apologies, my own," Voldemort whispered, "I wanted to look something up. Go back to sleep." He managed to leave the bed and had gone about five steps when he heard the sound of coils on the floor behind him and turned to look at the tired Naga following him. He raised an eyebrow, but Harry didn't react to it, and so Voldemort continued into his own rooms, Harry following dazedly and without a word or an explanation.

Voldemort cast a cleaning and refreshing charm on himself before getting dressed in a heavy dark grey robe. The cold tended to make itself known this time of the year, even inside. First when he sat down in his study, after having picked several books from his shelves, did he figure out what Harry wanted, when the Naga curled up on the carpet in front of the roaring fire and seemingly fell asleep again. Voldemort believed it was him, rather than the fire, that had made Harry choose that place to sleep. Maybe Nagas didn't like being alone? Or maybe mated Nagas didn't like being away from their mate? Or maybe that was just newly mated Nagas? It was hard to know without research and experimentation, but at least his books would give him the answer to some of the questions he had gotten this evening.

He flipped the first book open to the right page and began reading, even if he, strictly speaking, did remember all the information on the page. He simply wanted to reaffirm the information now that he had real life experience with it, against all odds. He shuddered in remembered pleasure. He had never imagined something like this, even after that first time Naga-Harry had called him his mate. He wondered if there was something he should or shouldn't do now, in regard to his mate …

He had a mate, not just a husband, when he a year ago never had considered either, never had wanted either. A mate, and what a mate!

All the information he had on Nagas wouldn't fill a whole book, it would in fact hardly fill half a book, but he read it all, again. Then he spent some time watching Harry sleep on his own coils, the fire making his scales glimmer enticingly. And then he read parts of the information again, and waited until a time where it would be decent to wake Harry.

He noticed that Harry didn't as much as twitch while he slept, much less scream himself awake. And he worried that being a Naga truly was easy on him, too easy. He liked Harry in this shape, exceedingly so, and Harry would be his husband and mate no matter his shape, but it couldn't actually be healthy to stay in another shape like that. Not in long periods of time. It would hardly solve anything, not truly.

Finally, it got close to the time where Harry often woke up on his own, if he had used Dreamless Sleep and slept through the night. It also was getting close to the time Granger would arrive. Voldemort got up and went to kneel next to the enormous bundle of coils that was Harry. He decided against trying to wake him by touching him, even if he wasn't having a nightmare.

"Harry, wake up," Voldemort said in a low and silky voice. "Time to wake. Granger will be here in a few hours, and you are still a Naga."

Harry moved fast, far too fast for Voldemort to react, and suddenly he was trapped in gleaming green coils, face to face with a half awake and blinking Naga. Harry yawned, exposing his fangs right in front of Voldemort's face, and continued to blink at him, his pupils just slits in his glowing green eyes. Voldemort wondered if it was a sign of insanity that he wasn't the least bit worried right now, or if it was a sign of unwavering trust in the being that called him mate. No matter the answer, he was not worried, even if he recognised that he was trapped and that he would have a hard time getting free, or even getting to his wand.

"Mate?" Harry asked groggily.

"Yes, my own, I am sorry to wake you, but your visitor will be here soon, and I wanted us to talk before you went to get ready."

Harry curled up in front of the fire again, with Voldemort partially trapped in his coils next to him.

"What did you want to talk about?" Harry asked, still a bit tired, but coherent enough.

"How do you feel, in general and in relation to last night?"

"Fine, on both accounts." He hesitated. "Happy, even. I don't have to avoid being a Naga around you anymore now, because I know what to expect and that it's alright. Unless you don't agree, of course." He frowned and focused on Voldemort's face. "You seemed to enjoy it, though, even if my behaviour did worry you a bit. You smelled …" His tongue darted out of his mouth and he made a hissing sound of pleasure.

Apparently, Voldemort still smelled good to him.

"I enjoyed myself very much, make no mistake about that, and I would not object to experiencing this again. At the same time, I do indeed worry about the change in your behaviour. Not for a night, or even a day or two, now and again, but being so very unlike yourself for longer periods of time … That thought worries me deeply."

Harry curled into him, and Voldemort put an arm around him, tugging him even closer. "I do take care, just so you know. I am as careful as I know how and I will never change shape with the intention of not changing back, no matter how … liberating it can be to have this shape instead of my human one. But now, with Hermi back in my life, you have someone to ask if I should … get a bit lost. You don't even have to ask, really, just send her a message and tell her that I am a Naga and that I refuse to change back. She will set me straight in no time."

"You are completely certain about that?"

"Absolutely."

"Very well. Then I will not worry anymore. The next issue I wanted to talk to you about was this." Voldemort carefully touched the mark on Harry's neck and Harry shivered, whimpered and pressed himself closer, tail tightening his grip. "That in combination with the fact that you wanted me to scent-mark you, while you only rubbed against me in return. My scent and mark on you are a much stronger claim, I believe, than your scent on me. I do not know how much that matters to you, as opposed to a born Naga, but the information I have on Nagas …"

"It probably means what you think it means, mate," Harry interjected, sounding very matter of fact. He didn't sound resigned, or frustrated or scared. For him it seemed the situation was just a fact, and, at least as a Naga, he held no objections. Voldemort noted this and then continued, to be absolutely certain that they had the same facts.

"So, in our relationship you would be the submissive one," Voldemort said, and got no sudden hostile reaction from his husband, his mate. "Interesting, and not my first impression last night."

"In my defence, I was getting to be close to my mate for the very first time. I might have gotten a bit overeager, but I heard no complaints."

"And neither will you hear them, now or later." Voldemort kissed his hair and Harry made a happy sound. His Harry. His mate. His.

Voldemort doubted that he actually could be too possessive of Harry when Harry was in his Naga shape. Three different written sources, now in addition to his own experience with Harry, confirmed that submissive Nagas - while easily as big and strong as dominant Nagas, and just as aggressive when needed - thrived on connection and physical contact with their chosen mate. A need to know they were claimed by their mate, and to know that they were wanted and desired by that individual, was a big part of their natural instinct. And being turned away or not feeling desired enough by that individual was detrimental to both their mental and physical health. Even if Voldemort had read about this fact several times before last night, he had had great trouble believing it would be relevant to Harry. Both because Harry wasn't a born Naga and because of Harry's regular personality.

Now it seemed it was very much relevant.

"I can't even really phantom wanting it any other way, right now," Harry said after a little while, "but I'm aware enough to warn you that this will not translate to our everyday life. And I … don't even want to think this, much less say it, but use the word 'little' on me when I have legs," his voice got lower and lower until it was just a whisper he was forcing out, "or just that tone of voice, and you will most likely get a fist in your face."

Voldemort hugged him because it felt right to do so. "It was an unfortunate slip, and I was genuinely surprised that you did not react badly there and then. It will not occur again."

"When I am not a Naga," Harry stated.

Voldemort took that to mean that he didn't actually mind when he was a Naga. He also noticed that while he really did like the feel of Harry's skin and tail under his hands, he did not get aroused like he had the night before. It might not have been only Harry that had been affected by their first time in close proximity.

"One more thing then. Do you happen to know if my books are accurate in that the submissive is the one who gets with child, and that gender is of no concern?"

"I have never read anything to tell me otherwise, no. As far as I know, all genders have the right organs to both sire and carry children. I have read a couple of accounts where the dominant in the relationship chose to carry because of extenuating circumstances. Not that either is a problem for us, as humans and Nagas cannot reproduce."

Voldemort hesitated, as he could easily predict Harry's reaction to Voldemort's next words. "I am not completely human and what part of me that is not human is serpentine. As you are very much opposed to carrying children, and you actually are able to carry children in this shape without any potion to make it happen, I would much prefer for us to be certain that I absolutely cannot get you pregnant."

Harry had stiffened at his first words, just as Voldemort had guessed he would, and then he got more and more rigid in Voldemort's arms the more he spoke. At the last word Harry began to tremble and Voldemort realised that it wasn't just that Harry had no wish to get pregnant, or that he abhorred the thought for one reason or another, he was genuinely terrified of the idea. Even in this shape with less stress and trauma close to the surface, Harry was terrified.

Voldemort kissed his brow and hair, hugged him close and stroked his back in slow strokes. He knew with certainty now that there was a story there, and not a pleasant one, but he also knew that he wouldn't ask about it. Not now, and maybe not ever.

"It will not happen, my own. Relax, I will not let it happen. That is the reason I brought it up, to be sure it will not happen. I will not let it happen."

It took several long and tense minutes before Harry slowly began to relax again and even longer before he was completely calm. He bent his neck to the side and Voldemort carefully kissed the mark on his neck and let his lips rest there, checking that Harry's pulse truly had calmed down again.

"I believe it may possibly be time for you to change back and prepare for your guest," Voldemort said in a low voice. It was better than trying to continue this conversation right now.

Harry nodded without a word and let Voldemort out of his coils, before grabbing for his hand before Voldemort could move away.

"Could I borrow you for a few moments more?" Harry whispered, holding onto his hand with both of his without looking at his face.

"You may." He paused. "What can I do?"

Harry swallowed. "Just … don't … don't let me go right now, maybe?"

Voldemort put his hand on top of Harry's and gripped them. Harry nodded, took a deep breath, and another, while his gaze was locked onto their hands. Then, from one moment to the next, he changed shape back to his usual self. For a few moments they simply sat there, on the rug in front of the fire, their hands intertwined, then Harry took a shaky breath and removed his hands from around Voldemort's. He was again dressed in a thin pair of trousers.

"Thanks," Harry said hoarsely. "I really didn't want to do that. Not because of the instincts, luckily, just because … just because things are generally easier …" He swallowed. "So, thanks. I got to go clean up. Have you eaten?"

"I have only had a cup of tea so far. If you wish to take a shower, I will inform Dobby to set a breakfast table for us in our library?"

Harry nodded and got up. "I want a breakfast room with lots of big windows. Or maybe an orangery in our own wing. What do you think?"

Voldemort got up. "I think I would like both, for the sake of variation."

Harry gave him a small smile. "Good point. I like the way you think. See you in a bit."

A/N:

Thank you so, so much for the comments, the favs and the follows! They are much appreciated! I love to hear what you think about the story and the characters! It makes writing this story even more fun! Each and every comment makes me smile!

How did you like the Naga smut? Please tell me, pretty please?!