Alright, this is not my first story, but it's only my second one ever posting on here. MAJOR WARNING, so listen up:
DARK!HARRY Dumbledore!BASHING
HOT AND STEAMY SLASH, OR GUYXGUY
VOLDEMORT/HARRY
If you have any problem with any of these things, are too young or too immature to read this, go away.
That's what the back button is for. I don't need flamers, and I promise you, I'm not gonna give a rats butt
if you don't like my writing or this pairing. Cuz for every one of you, there is at least four that do.
Disclaimer: I do not own this, or any of the characters. And even though I do in fact own these books, I do not own the rights to any of them.
So go bother JK Rowling for making this pairing so scrumptious if you got a problem with it.
Harry quietly looked over his glasses at the fool who had smiled out onto the crowd of students who had hushed themselves to hear the meaningless things the fool was saying. He, himself, was zoned out, not listening to a thing the man was saying and was attempting to tune out Ron complaining as well, but that didn't happen. No matter how hard he tried, he could hear the persistent voice that cut through all of his defenses as though they were nothing, "God, I wish he would hurry up and finish. I'm starving." The pig. He wasn't really starving. He didn't know starving.
A slick voice made itself known in the back of his mind, chuckling lightly, The meals he has here are probably the finest he's ever had, the filthy blood traitor. Though Harry agreed, he wasn't going to voice it, instead, looking up at the magic ceiling, that showed a clear, cloudless night. It would be the perfect night for stargazing.
Probably, but that doesn't give him the right to constantly voice it. He growled the words silently back, amusing the man. They had been periodically communicating this way for months now, Voldemort always adding his two cents. The teen didn't think he knew the meaning of the words: mind your own business. Even if he did, Harry was sure he would argue that Harry's business was his business, because anything that bothered his little Serpent bothered him as well.
A smile tugged at his lips. He had to admit, the pet name was quickly growing on him. Voldemort's affections were as well, though he had yet to make another appearance, he had sent him quite a few dreams in the place, with the apology (explanation, really, but it was as close to an apology as the dark Lord had ever uttered) of being busy.
A blush rose to his cheeks and he ignored it, picking at the silverware in front of him. Then that annoying voice made its way through his shields again, whining about being hungry again. This time, the reply spilled from his lips before he could stop the words.
"Oh my fucking Dark Lord, Ronald, shut your mouth for five minutes while the fool talks. It won't take that long, and then you can shovel food into your face until you puke, like you always do." He turned away after that, ignoring the indignant and shocked faces of his 'friends' as they gaped.
The voice in the back of his head was greatly amused, and the teen knew so, even if he didn't say anything. You shut up, too. He was annoying me. I'll kick you out if you say anything. His threat was empty, however; they both knew he didn't have the strength or the power to do so. The Dark Lord, wisely, didn't say anything. He knew the teen couldn't actually force him from his mind, but he could very easily completely ignore him until his anger had subsided. Or until the man apologized. Something the man had never and would never do.
Dumbledore sat back down, and as he did so, an immense amount of food appeared in front of them, and they all began shoveling in, all except Harry. He picked at his food and, for him, ate quite a bit. However, his stomach would not accept anymore. Having a small diet for months at a time ruined one's appetite, and made eating large amounts impossible. Still, even when his stomach was stretched to its fullest, the voice in the back of his head hissed, More. You haven't eaten nearly enough.
Harry shook his head, pressing his lips together in answer. No. I could barely eat this much. I'm too full. He patted his stomach, then reached for another sip of pumpkin juice. There. Happy? He smirked to himself when the Dark Lord growled at him, demanding he eat more. However, he just shook his head again, ignoring the questioning glances he received from the others at his table. It was far too late and everyone was much too full for anyone to care.
It wasn't long until they were all dismissed to their dormitories, and Harry eagerly hurried to his bed, relishing in the feel of the castle, his home, around him once more. He couldn't think of any place he'd rather be. Well, if it wasn't for Granger and Weasley, that is. They irritated him so badly now. He could hardly stand to be around them. Which was bad, seeing as they were supposedly his best friends. Yeah, right. They were turning from him just as he was turning from them, pitying him and growing fearful.
He was finding himself turning more and more to the voice in the back of his head, confiding in him little things and large things, things he probably shouldn't have told him. He was once again reminded of 2nd year, and how he became obsessed with the diary. Maybe it was similar to that.
"Oi, Harry, I didn't know you fancied tattoos!" Came Seamus' voice from the other side of their shared room. After a slight confusion, Harry grinned, knowing exactly what he was talking about. The bite wound that Voldemort had given him had turned into a mark, a tattoo looking mark. It looked like a skeletal snake, with nothing more than vertebrae, skull, and fangs, that was biting its own tail. The marking was circular, and he had a feeling there was more behind it than a little bit of coincidence. However, the Dark wizard refused to say anything on the matter.
"Yeah, never really thought I was a fan of them either, but I just love this one, don't you?" He heard Voldemort purr in contentment as he praised the marking, laying back on his bed. He pulled the covers up around him, setting his glasses beside him on the bedside table. Yawning widely, he reached out to let his curtains free to fall free and saw Ron doing the same. He hadn't spoken to him since Harry had told him to shut up, but that was fine with the teen. He didn't mind a little peace and quiet every now and then. It was something that didn't come often and he enjoyed it when it did.
He relaxed as he sprawled out, head resting on the pillows. It really was nice to be back, even if he hated most of the people in the castle. The castle itself was worth it. Heck, being out of that house was worth it. He had never really been anywhere like Hogwarts before, and he doubted he ever would. Honestly; there was no better place in the world to go star seeing. Or go for a walk in the rain. Mmm… How he loved doing both. They were so soothing and relaxing, separating him from the world and its troubles.
Just like that, his feet were on the floor, one of his hands shoving his glasses on his face and the other grabbing his invisibility cloak. The other boys were long since asleep, the food in their stomach calling quickly to the sandman; he heeded them no worry. Tiptoeing quickly, he eagerly slipped from the warmth of the dormitory to the common room, easing through the portrait of the fat lady, he darted up the stairs to the Astronomy tower, his very favorite place for stargazing.
The stars were beautiful from so very close up, so bright and large it seemed as though he could reach up and grasp them, wrap his hand around them and cradle them to his chest, keeping them close and away from everyone. It would be his little secret, the star in his possession. He would keep it quiet and not let anyone know, not a single person. The star must not like it up there, so far away from everything and too far away for anyone to understand or feel. It was nothing more than a ping a white light in the sky, to most people at least.
Voldemort stayed quiet in the back of his mind, he himself resting in his bed. Sometimes, the boy's insanity, logic, amused him. Insanity, sanity, logic, impulse… Who was to say that they were any different? In his experience, the only difference between sanity and insanity was that those who admitted their insanity were usually a bit brighter than those who claimed sanity. He wasn't sure if his Serpent knew of his own insanity yet. He didn't think the teen did, or at least wasn't fully aware and acknowledging it yet.
Harry sighed, his eyes closing of their own accord. He wanted to sleep now, to completely relax. Something was calling him away from his mind, away from reality to the never, neverlands. He didn't want to go back into his dormitory, and it wasn't too cold on the rooftop. He could just sleep there, as close to the heavens as he ever was going to get. After all, how could someone like himself, ever be accepted into such a place? If it really did exist, that is.
He knew that Voldemort didn't believe in heaven, hell, or God. He didn't believe in anything he couldn't see with his own eyes, something he could not grasp in his hand. That's why he didn't believe in love, or in the magic of it. He believed in what was proven to exist, not emotions or fleeting feelings, something that brought a smile to Harry's face. He was so passionate about anything and everything he did; he never did anything half way. He was passionate about his cause, about his disgust of mudbloods, and about his mirth at the idea of love being more powerful than himself.
Voldemort felt the teen relaxing through their connection, and waited just long enough to make sure he was sufficiently sleeping before drawing away from the mind of the other, bringing himself back to the reality of where he was. He had been dimly aware of it; in his mansion surrounded by to-the-death followers. Bellatrix's annoying voice was the first thing he heard, yelling at another Death Eater over something stupid, as usual. He looked over with a sneer, glancing around the room he was in, displeased by how may people were currently in it.
"Out. Everyone. Now." The room fell silent as each person in the room looked over at their Dark Lord where he sat in front of the fire, staring at him blankly. He stared into the fire for a moment more before looking up, his crimson eyes settled into a glare that he cast around the room. "I will not repeat myself," his threat was punctuated by a raised wand, and they all scurried out of the room like rats out of a sewer.
He waited until he was alone in the room to stand, hissing under his breath for Nagini. She slithered over to him, her muscles bunching as she climbed up his body and rested on his shoulders. He turned away from the fire, gently running his thin fingers over her dark scales. She flicked her tongue out, watching her master for a moment then glancing around the room. She knew her master hadn't been present in the room, even though his body was. It was concerning the other Serpent of his.
She just hoped her master brought the other Serpent; she was eager to meet him, and for Master to get on with his plans. Plans that the other Serpent played a crucial part in, apparently. She could see her master chomping at the bit for what was to come, a very different observation than his normal, stoic patience. It was intriguing, to say the least, coupled with the fact that not even his followers knew anything but the basics of the plan, meaning knowing that there was a plan at all. She herself only knew vaguely what was going to happen, but she knew it meant blood and gore.
Her two favorite words.
The Dark Lord leaned forward, pressing his fingertips together as he thought. He wasn't sure exactly how long it would take to completely covet the boy, how long he would cling to that miserable Gryffindor pride of his. It had been a mistake for the Sorting Hat to place him in that godforsaken House, anyway. He was destined for Slytherin. He wasn't sure what the Sorting Hat had been thinking, putting him in such a House. Then again, knowing his Serpent, he probably had something to do with it.
He stood abruptly, with robes billowing around him as he walked over to his desk. He sat down in his comfortable leather chair, leaning back slightly in it. Once he had the boy in his grasp (finally) everything would come tumbling down around them. They would rise to power, he and his little Serpent, his Chosen One. The world would fall at their knees and beg mercy, of which he wasn't sure he would give. The wizarding world was to no longer hide behind guises and pray the Muggles didn't find them. No, the Muggles were going to know of them, and were going to bow to them.
It was as simple as that. Pure world domination. Any man's favorite wet dream. Then again… A smirk coiled on his lips. Not many men have seen my Serpent. A thought crossed his mind and he gave a grunt, his smirk sliding from his face. Let's keep it that way. That boy was his and his alone. No one was to touch him. No one was good enough for him. No one dared touch him, touch what was his, what had belonged to him since that fateful night years before, when one escaped Death, and the other nearly succumbed to it.
The thought made him growl in pleasure, and he closed his eyes, forming a fantasy for his Serpent to dream. It was the most he could do at the moment; after all, randomly barging into Hogwarts just to rut with his other was not a good idea. Maybe he would do it, eventually, but at the moment he had preparations to tend to, things to do, people to see, stuff to steal. As tempting as another hot scene with the only other Parselmouth in existence was, he simply could not at current. Perhaps later. Yes, definitely later.
Pushing that thought aside for later, he focused on the fantasy he was feeding his Serpent, knowing the boy would wake from it with wet pants on the Astronomy tower. The thought made him grin. Evil as he was, he could not help but tease.
His long, thin, fingers trailed down the pale teen's chest, making his heart jump under his fingertips. A smirk twisted its way onto his features, and his ghosted his breath on the boy's collarbone, making him gasp and writhe. The other's fingers frantically grasped at the cold stone they were laying on, trying desperately to find purchase on anything, something to hold. Emerald eyes, hazed over in lust, refused to close, however, and they watched is every movement.
He bit at the boy's nipple, making it instantly erect and throbbing painfully. It was a pleasurable pain; he made sure of that. He knew his Serpent was a bit of a masochist, but nothing they wouldn't get to in due time. In person, though, not in some made up fantasy that was a promise of the real thing. He owed that to the teen. Though he didn't really care for the idea of 'owing' anyone, anything, it was true. He owned that to him.
The Dark Lord's kisses were harsh and brutal, that he knew, but he knew that the other wouldn't have it any other way. His Serpent's fingers suddenly found hold in his hair, jerking his head up to crash their lips together. He growled out, hissing low as their tongues battled for dominance. He knew he would win. There was no question. He didn't know why the teen even tried.
Still, he humored his Serpent, because a happy Serpent made a happy Dark Lord. It had taken the length of the summer to figure that out, and it was a hard learned lesson. He thought on this as he bucked their hips together, earning him a gasp and a mewl. A grin twisted onto his thin lips, and he leaned to bite his teen's lip, relishing in how his eyes rolled back even as his eyebrows knitted. He pulled away slightly, murmuring "Little Serpent…" in the teen's ear before sliding down his chest once more.
He felt the other's throbbing erection pushing into him, heard the other's gasp at the friction his movement gave. One hand reach down to trace circles in the fabric of the boy's boxers, a teasing motion that he knew made his Serpent want to scream.
Screaming was going to come soon anyways.
He took a prefect bud in his mouth, chuckling as the sensation had the hazy eyed teen's back arching, hands knitting again in his hair to secure his face there with as much force as he could but it was still weak. Physical labor was not the Serpent's strength, so to speak. It wasn't that he was weak, it was that he was much stronger. He glanced up to tell him to let go of his head, when his eyes caught sight of the Mark he had left on the pale skin.
Desire flooded him at the sight, and he released the nipple in his mouth to lick up the small chest of the one beneath him, the only one that might ever possibly be his equal. Even then, he still wasn't sure. The man closed his eyes to focus completely on the other's sounds and tremors, what each of his ministrations did to him. He bit at the thin boy's collarbone, earning him a gasp. Voldemort felt the boy trembling under him, quaking with desire and pleasure.
His mouth finally reached his destination: that Mark. He licked around it, teasing the sensitive skin but not actually touching the Mark itself. His Serpent whined, other other's body writhing as his blunt nail scraped down the man's back, leaving angry red marks that made him hiss with pleasure. He gripped his hips tightly, pulling the teen to him, making bloody half moons in the teen's pale, bare hips. His boxers had long since been lost, his erection bare for the world to see, even though the men had retained his pants.
He knew what Harry craved. He craved dominance, to be forced to forget the rest of the world, if only for a while. He craved not to be every wizard's Savior, craved to be just like everyone else. He had no care for the wellbeing of the Wizarding World, and knew they had no care for the wellbeing of him. He just wanted that to be known and accepted. He knew that the only one that cared was Voldemort, the only one who understood.
Wasn't that messed up? Fate has an odd way of working itself out.
The man was unwilling to draw out what he wanted any longer. Abandoning the Mark momentarily, he pulled back to stare heatedly at the mess beneath him. His crimson eyes scorched what had always been for him to take, his to have. The pale teen lay under him, his cheeks flushed dark, his orbs a hazy and lustful emerald. His hands were knitted into his own unruly hair, and he panted at the gaze of the other. Voldemort knew just how to look at him to make him melt.
Then he pressed three fingers to the boy's lips, giving an unneeded command. "Suck." The other opened his mouth to accept the digits, his eyes sliding closed for a second before slowly opening again, staring up at the Dark Lord. The eyes teased him and enticed him, clearly saying that he was imagining each of the fingers were miniature members of the man's, and giving them worthy treatment.
When he deemed them ready (when he couldn't take it anymore) he pulled his fingers away. He reached down and hooked one of his Serpent's legs over his shoulder, giving him a better angle to stretch him. He may be cruel, but he wouldn't take his Serpent without preparing him first. Unless of course, he was begged and pleaded with. Then it was for the other's own good.
He slowly pushed his first finger in to the knuckle, listening with glee to hear what he knew was on its way. A hiss escaped the teen's lips and his back arched at the uncomfortable feeling. The Lord knew this was the part he didn't like, but it was necessary. For now. Then, came what he was waiting for.
"Tom…"
'Tom' clucked his tongue, pressing his lips against the other's temple. "Tom…" he said, adopting their language. "If you are going to use that name, speak it so only I can hear." He felt the boy relaxing around him, and gently began moving the finger in and out, to stretch it before he added another finger. He heard the other sigh and bit the inside of his cheek, waiting for what was bound to come.
"Tooooom…" The sound of the voice, so weak and needy with lust and pleasure, made his pants most uncomfortably tight, and he throbbed in them. He loved making his Serpent weak and boneless in such a way. They hadn't even started.
Hissing his approval deep in his chest, the man pushed another finger in, scissoring them instantly. The teen's eyes flew wide, and pain shot up his spine, a predecessor for what was to come. He reached with his other hand to wrap it around the teen's arousal, distracting him from the pain of being stretched yet again. He got a gasp of pleasure for his action, and another whimper, which had him weeping for release. "God… Tom…"
The man smirked and bit at the boy's ear, hissing back to him, "Something like that, little Serpent. At least, that is what we aim for." He saw the boy roll his eyes, but watched the dark blush tint his ear and blossom on his collarbones. With a smirk, he leaned down to bite the crook of his neck, on the opposite side of his neck as the Mark. The body jumped under him, hands twining into his hair and holding him, as though he was desperate to touch him. "What is it that you want, little one?"
The teen whined at him, letting him go as he pouted. Smirking to himself, he added curled his fingers, earning him a gasp and tightened muscles. He clenched his jaw to control himself at the feel of the hot, wet warmth around his fingers. He could not wait to be buried deep in it, just like always. Still, he was not through teasing the boy. He could hold out a little longer. "Well? What is it?" The boy whined, writhing under him and letting loose little gasps and moans from his lips.
"My little Serpent, I cannot give you what you want unless you tell me what you want." He leaned down to lick the shell of the other's ear. "Just tell me and it's yours. Anything you want in the world, tell me and I will gladly give it to you." He whispered the words in the teen's ear, a promise that he knew was irresistible. For someone who never got anything growing up unless he got it himself, the promise of getting something if he just asked, was incomprehensible. So, so very tempting. "Just. Tell. Me."
A pant was released from the boy's lips, and his back arched at the feel of the third and final finger being pushed past his ring of tight muscles. "A… anything I want?" The man nodded, smirking from above as he watched, pumping his fingers in and out of the teen, searching for that sensitive bundle of nerves that would have him spiraling downward into madness. "If I can have anything in… the world…" He paused in his panting, his eyes screwed shut, a blush darkening his cheeks again. "Then… I want… yooooooou!" The last word was punctuated by the discovery of his prostate, taking his breath away.
The Lord knew that he could come merely from the feel of having his prostate abused, so he released the teen's erection and began slowly stroking his sweet spot, making his little Serpent mewl. He brushed the organ with his fingertips, smirking broadly. "Which part of me?" The words slipped out, and he wondered how exactly the teen was going to answer. Probably something boorish and boyish, blunt and eager to romp.
"All of you… I want to have… all of you…" That was not the answer he expected. He stilled for a second while chastising himself. Of course not. His Serpent wasn't like that, not like him, not like most other males. He did have a brain, and a very tender bone when rubbed right.
The Dark Lord grinned, "If that is your wish, then that is what I shall give." He placed a chaste kiss on his Serpent's lips, before he pulled his fingers out. The male gave a small whine at the loss, obviously too caught up in the present to realize that in a second he was about to get something so very much better. The man gave a chuckle, a hissed, "Brace yourself." With that, he thrust forward and sheathed himself fully in the teen, stilling once he was balls deep.
The heat encasing him made him want to weep with pleasure, and he had to bite his lip to keep from pounding into the lithe body under him. He leaned forward, resting his head on the teen's shoulder as he waited for the other to adjust. Goosebumps rose on his skin as a soft hand fisted in his hair, running through it and cooing. The teen, cooing to him! As if he needed it! When he was through with the boy, he would need a lot more than just a cooing to.
He grabbed the boy's legs and lifted them over his shoulder, and began relentlessly pounding into the boy. Each thrust took him deeper, each thrust hitting the bruising prostate. It stole the teen's breath away, and everything around him faded away into white as the world spun. Nothing existed except the unrelenting pounding of his Tom into him, him accepting his Tom.
Only a minute into their play, the teen couldn't take anymore. With a choked scream of his lover's name, he came all over both of their chest. The man gripped his legs tighter and took their sex to a new level, so close to the edge as he was. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the area, panicked and now unsteady. Suddenly, his orgasm overcame him, and he came with a howl. As he came, he sank his teeth into the Mark he had left on the boy, and the boy came again.
Harry sat straight up, panting as though he had just run a marathon, covered in his own sticky mess. Leave it to Voldemort to give him a wet dream his first day back at Hogwarts, on the Astronomy Tower for the world to see. He blushed, muttering a cleaning spell as he thought of the dream again. He had a come a second time in this dream, merely from having that mark bit. It had been a pleasure unlike any other, a more powerful orgasm than ever before in the dreams.
He stood shakily, wondering what that was all about. What exactly was that mark, anyway?
A/N: Alright, not entirely sure if I like how this chapter ended up, but what you see is what you get, you know? Sorry for such a long time between updates. I kinda forgot about this story (:
Review please. Tell me whatcha like and whatcha don't (: