Challenge Title: Serpent Childe

Plotter: PxW

Category: SLASH (aka homosexual)

Pairing: Voldemort/Harry

Plot: What if Harry can only understands what parselmouths and snakes speak, and he dislike or distrust humans in general? What if Harry was abandoned by the Dursleys and was raised by a (or a group of) magical serpent? Hence, he only understands parseltongue and does not like humans very much in general. What if he learned to became a snake Animagus ever before his return to the human world; and somehow he end up as Voldemort's new familiar (or pet) snake? He believes that he shall be the consort of the fearful Dark Lord.

AN: I know, I know. I should be working on Waterlogged, and I still am, don't worry. It's kind of on hiatus right now, because my beta is sick. It's just that after reading Snake Boy, Serpentine, (and I'm sure there was another one) I couldn't seem to help myself. I'm kind of on a Harry/Tom(Voldemort) binge right now, so bare with me.

Love of a Snake
Prologue

All I remember, really, is seeing my aunt fiddling with the oven. Apparently the gas flames hadn't been working properly, and after much screaming about how my freakishness was most likely the cause, Aunt Petunia went about trying to figure out what was wrong. She had finally gotten fed up with me for watching and sent me outside to do something, anything, she didn't care.

It must have been around late September, as the leave were a magnificent purple, I remember picking up a strangely shaped one, sitting on the ground, and tracing the tiny veins with my pudgy clumsy toddler fingers.

After that, an extremely loud noise, a fire ball of heat (my memory still insists that it was sickly green, though I know this can't be true), pain, and blackness.

The rest of the memories following that are a blur. I remember waking up in somewhere that was an ungodly white, my glasses gone, and the feeling of being constricted by what would end up being the result of many many bandages.

All I really have a sense of was the brightness, the pain, and the metallic rhythmic beeping of some kind of muggle device. Eventually they must have deemed me alive and well, because I ended up back in my Uncle Vernon's care, who had apparently been at work when the gas had exploded. He had gotten a frantic call from the authorities or a neighbor or someone, I'll never know, or care. All that matters is that he came home to find his house being doused by frantic firemen trying to keep the deadly flames from spreading, his wife and son dead (burnt beyond recognition), and me.

The Freak. The Abomination. The Bane of his Existence. I had lived, and he couldn't stand it. In his grief stricken mind, I was obviously the cause of the death of his wife and son.

Now that Petunia was dead, he had absolutely no reason to keep me. After all, it was her and Dudley's blood relation to me that had kept me safe. As soon as he could manage it, I was gone. He dumped me in the middle of a forest, a far far ways away, and left me there to die. I had nothing. No food, no water, no coat.

I was four.