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Check out my fanfic named "Entrapped".
Summary: Madness is not a state of mind. Madness is a place. What happens when Harry stumbles into it and gets trapped there? A Harry Potter version of Alice in Wonderland but a thousand shades darker.
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Voldemort didn't know how he ended up here, on the floor of a garage, going through boxes of photos and clothes. Wait—Yeah, he did. He'd been stunned to finally figure out where Harry had brought him for their weekend getaway. Stunned and more than a little bit angry. But he'd also seen the pain in Harry's eyes when he talked about his parents' murders. Voldemort wanted to take that pain away. He did. But he also wanted to know more about Harry's past.
So, while they'd sat in the room they'd turned into a makeshift bedroom, his head on Harry's shoulder, Voldemort had asked him. He'd asked Harry to talk to him about his past, the life he'd led.
Here they were, seated side by side in the garage, going through boxes. He tore open one marked "Harry's photos". There they were, Harry as a baby. His huge innocent green eyes staring at the camera cluelessly while he held a rattle. There was another picture in which the little baby Harry was held by his mother, a laugh frozen on the red-haired woman's face as she stared down at her son. He now knew where Harry had gotten his stunning eyes from,
Harry's eyes were brimming with tears as he plopped down on the floor next to Voldemort.
"She was beautiful."
Voldemort stared at the photo again. It made him ache, the happiness on her faces.
"She is beautiful,"
He whispered in reverence.
Harry nodded and drew his knees up,
"I wish I could remember her."
Voldemort pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his temple. Harry pulled out another picture with shaking fingers and showed it to Voldemort. This time a man was cradling the baby to his chest. He almost looked exactly like Harry, except for his eyes. Harry had taken his looks from his father and his eyes from his mother. Harry's body trembled and he choked out,
"They didn't deserve to die."
Voldemort didn't know what to do except to hold him and soothe him. He felt that Harry needed his presence more than his words. When Harry had calmed down a bit, Voldemort finally asked,
"Why keep this house if it causes you so much agony?"
"I don't know."
Harry glanced at the boxes before bringing his gaze to Voldemort.
"I think I was waiting."
Voldemort frowned.
"For what?"
Harry murmured.
"For you. For someone strong enough to make me want to come back. To make me want to face it."
The heavy emotion behind his words staggered Voldemort's heartbeat. He stared at the man opposite him, unable to look away. Helpless against the invisible threads weaving around them, binding them together.
"Harry…"
He grabbed Voldemort, shackling his wrist in a brutal clasp.
"Now you're here. You. You cracked me open, made me feel and want and need."
His chest heaved and Voldemort found himself shaking his head, because that was responsibility. So much responsibility he couldn't want.
"You wanted me to show you."
Harry grasped Voldemort's face, pinching his cheeks, forcing him to watch, and listen.
"You wanted me to drop the mask, to show you how I feel."
He paused.
"Are you seeing it, V? Can you see how much I feel for you? How much I want you, need you?"
He shook Voldemort, gaze imploring, eyes burning him.
Voldemort wanted to say no, wanted to shrug away from Harry's touch and scurry away. It scared him what he saw in Harry's eye.
"Yes."
The word was a hiss, loud and drawn out. It burned his throat, burned his eyes, burned him every damn where.
"Yes."
Harry kissed him, a hurried, wet and rough rasp of his tongue over Voldemort's.
"My future, V. I want my future to be you."
And God help him, but Voldemort wanted the same thing.
"Yes."
After a few hours…
Voldemort licked his lips and gazed at Harry over the rim of the wine glass.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?"
His lover smiled, dimples forming in his cheeks.
"Not with you by my side helping, nope."
Harry looked down at his empty plate.
"Can't believe I cooked something."
Voldemort chuckled.
"Stick with me, Mr. Potter. Soon I'll have you doing things you never thought you'd do."
Harry grinned. They'd worked together, in complete sync in the kitchen, making a quick and easy dinner. For a man who liked control, Harry took direction well. And the food came out great. They made Parmesan-crusted chicken and paired it with twice-baked potatoes, smothered in crumbled bacon bits and sour cream. Not a bad meal. They'd decided to eat outside, sitting at the edge of the empty, rectangular pool, legs swinging. The day was turning to night and the little lights all around the pool and backyard were flickering on.
The area was peaceful, the house and grounds manicured perfection. It really was a beautiful place. Harry had given him a tour through the house and the grounds. He didn't know why there was a basketball court, a tennis court and the duck pond on the north side of the property, but he liked it. Voldemort found himself being glad that Harry didn't get the chance to be here with anyone else, to make memories in this place with anyone else. Then he felt selfish about that. But he shrugged the weak sentiment off. He didn't care about being selfish, he just cared that he was here, sharing this space with Harry.
He gazed out at the landscape with a small sigh. Soon they'd leave here and go back to the real world. That wasn't appealing, not after this. Harry asked.
"What do you really think about the house?"
Voldemort pursed his lips.
"It's beautiful."
He turned to find Harry's eyes on him, bright, but watchful and intense.
"I really like it."
Harry shuffled closer, putting down his wine glass to take Voldemort's hand in his.
"And if I asked you to stay here with me, to live here with me?"
Voldemort's jaw dropped.
"Wha…"
Meow. He jumped. Harry lifted his head and looked around.
Meow.
"Is that…"
Voldemort scrambled to his feet and strained to listen.
"Is that a cat?"
Harry stood as well, gaze searching the darkness.
"Sounds like it."
He strode past the pool and out into the large grassy area behind the house.
"I don't see anything."
Voldemort went to him.
Meow. Meow.
"I can hear it."
The sounds grew nearer. Or was it further away? The damn area tended to echo.
"I think it's coming from..."
He pointed to his right just as something soft brushed up against his left leg.
"Damn."
He jumped and looked down. A cat, the cat, was there, staring up at him with yellow-green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark.
"Harry,"
He called softly. He didn't want to spook the animal.
"Hey, there,"
Voldemort whispered to the feline.
"How did you get here? Where did you come from?"
He knew Harry's property was fenced off. Harry came speeding over, and Voldemort waved at him to slow the hell down. His lover got the message because he eased up his approach, creeping cautiously over to Voldemort. Meow. The cat weaved back and forth between Voldemort's legs, brushing up against him. It sort of tickled and he looked to Harry for help.
"I think one of your neighbours lost a cat."
Harry snickered.
"I think he likes you."
He nodded to where the cat stood between Voldemort's legs, rubbing against him.
"Whatever."
But Voldemort grinned down at the very vocal cat.
"It's probably a girl. I do pull the ladies like a fly-catcher."
He snorted at his own joke.
"Uh-huh."
Harry squatted and scooped up the medium-sized feline in his arms. The animal apparently didn't want to be held or didn't like Harry because it let out a loud yowl and tried to claw his eyes out. Voldemort chuckled.
"I don't think the cat is going to be a fan of yours, Mr. Potter."
Harry glared at him as he tried to control the cat.
"No collar."
Voldemort gazed at the striped grey and white cat.
"So, what, that means no owner? Doesn't look like it's hurting for meals and such."
Harry began walking to the house.
"But it's dirty. Come on, I'll call Dean, have him ask around."
Voldemort followed him into the house and to the kitchen. He went directly to the refrigerator and the cat sprang out of Harry's arms, landing smoothly on its feet.
"Damn."
He grinned at Harry as his lover glowered.
"A cat running away from you. Now that's a sight."
Harry snapped playfully,
"Shut it."
Voldemort smothered a chuckle as he pulled a bottle of milk from the fridge.
"Let's get the baby something to drink, huh?"
He looked around for the cat and found it on the other side of the room, rubbing against the wall.
"Here, kitty."
He poured some milk into a bowl he grabbed from the nearby sink then placed it on the floor at his feet.
"Come on."
He waved at the cat who stared at him from her post.
"I promise the bad man won't hurt you."
Harry shifted and the cat meowed.
"Oh, stop it."
The cat began making a low growling noise,
"She really doesn't like you."
Harry argued,
"Could be a guy. And it likes me just fine."
Voldemort urged him. He kept his gaze on the cat as it began walking toward them, stalking really, its tail high in the air.
"Uh-huh. She's coming."
He whispered to Harry from the corner of his mouth.
"Don't you dare move."
The cat came over and began lapping at the milk, pink tongue flicking out as her ears stuck up and her tail swayed back and forth. She didn't look it, but she was thirsty. And why was he referring to the cat as a she? A soundless flash made him glare at Harry. His lover shrugged.
"I'm sending it to Dean so he can find out if anyone is missing him."
"Her."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Whatever."
He began typing on his phone. Voldemort turned back to the cat at his feet. She was almost done with the milk.
"You were thirsty, huh?"
He knelt beside her and smoothed a hand over her back. Harry was right, she was dirty. This close Voldemort could see the clumps of fur mixed with dirt and specks of grass.
"You want more?"
he asked in a low tone.
"You think you can drink some more?"
He wrinkled his nose when her sour smell reached his nose.
"You reek, girl. Need to wash up."
Over his shoulder he heard Harry talking to the properly manager on the phone.
"Would you like that?"
She ignored him. He moved to take the bowl in order to refill it and she lashed out at him.
"Ah, Damn."
He jerked his hands away before she clawed.
"Damn, girl, I was just going to give you some more milk."
"Here."
Harry tapped him on the shoulder and handed over the bottle of milk.
"Dean says he'll email her picture around, see if anyone owns her."
He wrinkled his nose.
"She stinks."
Voldemort scowled at him.
"She can hear you, you know."
He paused then grinned up at Harry.
"You said she."
A dimple appeared in his cheek,
"I looked between her legs. A girl for sure."
"I didn't even have to look. I can tell pussy from miles away."
"Oh, my God."
Harry tugged on Voldemort's ear.
"Shut up about that already."
He glanced to where the cat was lapping at her milk.
"She's almost done, and you get the unenviable task of bathing her."
Voldemort didn't bother speaking up, but there was no way he was going to wash a strange cat all by himself.
Check out my other fanfic named "Ensnared". It's actually a Harry Potter Version of "The Beauty and the Beast" Let me know what you guys think. Just follow the link below or visit my profile. Looking forward your feedback
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Check out my fanfic named "Elusion". Let me know what you guys think. Just follow the link below or visit my profile. Looking forward your feedback
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Check out my other fanfic named "No Escape." If you haven't checked it out yet. Just visit my profile or click on the link below
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If you have the time, then check out my other Harry Potter fanfic labelled "Desperation" Just visit my profile or click on the link below,