Disclaimer: I does not own. I does not want to. Would be shite if I owned. XD

//This is Parseltongue.//

If you're reading this story only for the plot (that thrills me, by the way, that some of you are)… well, this chapter isn't for you. Don't worry, you aren't missing anything plot wise if you skip it. XD (See ending A/N.)

WARNINGS: Language (Harry's ticked, many F-bombs will be dropped), and lotsa smut. I said I wouldn't but… well, this got out of hand. Still not-quite-a-full-lemon (well, not what I would write if a lemon was what I had in mind, at least), but I know I crossed FFnet's lines regardless (didn't mean to!). Oh, and a bit of kink (domination)… so beware, sensitive readers!

Paraselenic

Interlude - Prurient // causing lasciviousness or lust

Harry walked uncloaked through Riddle Manor, smirking as the Death Eaters around shrunk away with his presence. Between his actions and the deference shown to him by various Inner Circle members, he had cemented his place as the Dark Lord's partner and powerful in his own right. After all, it took someone of substantial standing to manage to get Lucius Malfoy's respect, and they all knew it. The regular Death Eaters had not seen as much of him as he would have liked, but what they had seen was enough to leave them wary and respectful. Harry could live with that.

He had begged out nearly immediately after his conversation in the Room of Requirement, choosing to go to Tom right after he had called and use the time turner before going back rather than wait until late that night to use the device and dealing with a sleepy, cranky Tom. At least this way, they would get a few hours of… erm… conversation in. Harry snorted mentally.

He could hear her voice even before he entered reached the door to Tom's office, and already he had to restrain the urge to run in and kill her. He hated how much she affected him, and he especially hated how much of a weakness it felt like that he begrudged her more for her obsession with Tom than even Sirius's murder. He ignored the gnawing sensations in his chest and walked into the office, catching Lucius' eye quickly before turning on the scene of Bellatrix knelt by Tom's chair.

He was surprised to see Tom in his natural form with so many of his lesser ranked Death Eaters wandering around the manor, and found that fact annoyed him terribly. He had liked it better when this form had been just for him. He also narrowed his eyes when he noticed the older man had cut his hair, leaving it barely long enough to cover his ears. It had been one day… one day!… since his youth had been revealed to his inner circle, and already Harry saw the changes.

Harry twitched with the urge to hit Bellatrix as she batted her eyelashes at Tom. The man looking totally uninterested, but it didn't stop invisible claws from rending his insides to shreds.

"My lord, you're even more handsome than I remember! What a wonderful feat of power it must have been!" The woman ran crazed eyes over his form, a smile tugging at her lips. "I would be happy to help you assess its capabilities, my lord; you needn't stoop to dirtying yourself with that halfblood creature Potter…"

Harry growled low in his throat, trying to control the urge to rip the woman's throat out as she ran a hand over Tom's arm under the guise of admiration. As that hand lingered, Harry had to freeze himself so he didn't go and rip it off of her. His more base instincts were running high as Tom gave her a patronizing smile and patted her head like a favored dog. "Not necessary, Bella. But I… thank you for the consideration."

Lucius, Harry finally noticed, was watching him with an amused smirk, looking far too gleeful at Harry's clenched fists and taut countenance. The smirk faded, however, as Bellatrix made Harry's patience run out.

"Oh, but my lord… I am your most faithful and devoted servant… I live to please you…" she purred, sidling forward on her knees closer yet to the stoic Dark Lord.

Harry smirked coldly and picked at his fingernails as he made his presence known. "You know, Bella, I didn't have you down as a sycophantic slut… oh wait, yes I did."

Bellatrix's eyes swiveled to him in surprise, quickly narrowing with seething hatred. Harry peered at her through his lashes with a bored expression as she snarled. "Stay out of the adults' conversation, Potty."

"How about I make this simple for you, Bella?" Harry said coolly, sweeping his eyes over the occupants of the room before once again locking eyes with her and giving her a sneer. "Get your fucking hand off of him before I break it off and shove it down your throat."

Harry ignored the laugh that Lucius quickly stifled, keeping his eyes on Bellatrix's dark ones. He wouldn't be backing down from this, and he really hoped she continued to challenge him. Neville or no, he would gladly make a meal of her if she didn't get the hell away from his--

"You may both leave." Tom's voice broke his musings. The comment was obviously directed at the two Death Eaters, and Bellatrix looked ready to argue. A glare from Tom sent her skittering away, however, and Lucius bowed before leaving as well. The blond had the audacity to smirk at Harry before he left, closing the study's door behind him. Harry looked up at Tom with a forced blankness, watching for what would undoubtedly be a spectacular reaction from his lover.

"What, exactly, was that Potter?" The tone was cool, but the tickling sensation in Harry's faded scar told him that Tom was reigning in his temper.

"That was me threatening your bitch of a crawler."

Crimson eyes narrowed. "Any reason why you thought it your place to do so, Potter?"

Harry smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Because, dear Tom, you're mine, and I don't take kindly to usurpers."

Tom Marvolo Riddle couldn't really remember the last time he had felt so shocked. Being ripped from his body by an infant had enraged him. Potter coming to him out of the blue had initially induced anger that settled to a victorious glee. But here was a smirking Harry Potter, crossing multiple silent boundaries, and Tom could do nothing for long moments but stare.

From shock came infuriation, a snarl overtaking his face. "Lord Voldemort is no one's possession, boy, and you would do well to remember that. I do not know what kind of power this tryst has lead you to believe you have, but I will fuck whomever I please whenever I please."

Answering rage flashed through Potter's eyes, but a cool smirk tugged at the young Vampire's lips. "Oh really? Well, then, I'll just go catch up with Pretty because I'm sure he will show me a good time…"

Tom realized he was moving only as he was taking long-legged strides towards the boy and reaching up to thread his fingers through the inconvenient, waist length black strands, gripping Potter by the hair at the back of his head. He yanked backwards, ignoring Potter's gasp. "Don't provoke me, brat!"

Potter glared, green eyes mere slits. "Get your hand out of my hair, git."

Tom, in his rational mind, was well aware of the dangerous line he was treading, and he wasn't thinking of Potter's sensitivity when it came to his hair. He could not afford to cross this line… But though Tom's rational mind was reeling, Tom was far from acknowledging anything but the man in front of him, bent uncomfortably backward in his grip. "You will listen closely, Potter, and you will obey. You lay so much as a finger on Lucius or anyone else, and I will snap your fingers and then kill them in front of you. Do you understand me?"

He felt a wracking shudder roll through Potter's body, and a thrill ran through him. This boy overpowered him by half physically and was his magical equal, and yet here he was held under Tom's power. Though Tom had decades more magical experience to guide him, he knew that if Harry wanted to, Harry would have broken the hold already. But the boy just glared at him with glowing eyes, tense and hiding a cringe as Tom tightened his fingers in the impossibly long hair.

"I asked you if you understood me, Potter."

"Of course I understand. I understand that you are an emotionally constipated prat!"

Tom snarled and yanked on the hair, simultaneously bending Potter backwards and shoving him back, smirking as he grunted in pain. The edge of his desk was digging into the boy's back, and Tom leaned forward to compound that.

Potter didn't have time to dodge when Tom wandlessly cursed him, smirking as green eyes became round in his shock. "Ah, you know this one, then? It is such a nice curse… leaving the victim entirely unable to move, but still able to communicate… or scream. Ideal for torture. But for you, loçkë, I have other plans."

"Tom," Potter's voice was strained and Tom could practically feel the underlying rage. "Release the spell, or I swear to you that I will make your life a living hell."

Tom waved his wand negligently over his desk. The various trinkets and stacks of paperwork vanished instantly, and Tom leered at the infuriated vampire. "I think I prefer you this way, really."

He leaned forward and pushed back Harry's hands, positioning them over his head and leaving Tom unimpeded. He let his fingers trace light circles over the cloth covered skin, smirking all the while as Harry twisted his head and shouted obscenities. Deft fingers slowly undid the series of buttons holding Harry's shirt closed, ignoring the cursing Potter.

"I will fucking kill you, Tom! You fucking son of a…"

"Ah ah ah, loçkë, leave my mother out of this, hmm?"

Tom pushed away the material, strangely thankful for Potter's lack of propriety and tradition as the muggle clothes fell away. The urge to taste would not be ignored, and Tom relished in Harry's groan as he traced his tongue from navel to sternum across slightly olive skin, tasting the salty tang of sweat and the underlying flavor that he had grown so accustomed to in the last weeks.

"T-Tom…"

"Ah, giving in to me already?" Tom asked, palms of his hands running slowly up clothed legs. "I do think I like you like this. Your mouth will get you in trouble one day, but your actions will get you killed. So quick you are to believe you have rights where you do not." Tom's hands fleetingly cupped the growing hardness between Harry's legs, his smirk widening. "But yet you enjoy being put in your place, don't you?"

"Fuck, Tom… take the spell off."

Tom didn't answer him, merely stared into entrancing green eyes as he paused in his ministrations, feeling the trap closing in around him. He refused to acknowledge the little voice that was asking him why he was giving pleasure to the brat instead of torturing him, why the fact that Potter was enjoying it made his own arousal soar. He firmly reminded himself that he was Lord Voldemort, damnit, and he did not care. Not about his supporters, not about his minions, and certainly not about Harry bloody Potter.

Anger swept through him fiercely, a comforting and familiar emotion, and Tom gripped Harry by the shoulder and yanked on his inert body, flipping him onto his stomach and hiding those alluring eyes from his sight. He did not care. Did not. Could not.

A spell took care of Potter's remaining clothing, leaving his body bare to Tom's eyes. He trailed his lips up the smooth skin, laying his fully clad body across Harry's back. He swallowed the groan that rose in his throat as his erection rubbed against Harry, biting down on the shoulder under his mouth and ignoring Potter's shout of pain. "I think I have let you get away with too much, Potter, if you think I would allow you to even think of touching another."

Harry twisted his neck and bared his fangs, and Tom felt a thrill as he saw that Potter's pupils had gone slitted in his anger. The strength at this boy's command ceaselessly amazed him, and it was his. His to do with as he pleased. Tom shivered, tightening his grip on Potter as the man snarled. "You think I will let you, you bastard? Fucking possessive--"

Tom spelled away his own clothes, and Potter cut off with a throaty moan even as Tom seized the back of his neck and painfully pushed down on his head. With his other hand, Tom dug his blunt nails into Potter's hip. "A sadist and a masochist, Potter? Interesting… Now, Loçkë… let me hear you say it.

"Say what, arsehole?!"

The fingers on Harry's hip trailed inward, stroking slowly. "Whose are you?"

"Fuck you, Tom!!"

"Yes, yes, Potter, we're getting to that. Don't be impatient." Tom's questing hand lifted to his mouth and then reached down to grip his own erection and position himself. "Now say it."

"Let me repeat, Tom." Potter's breath was ragged, and Tom could feel his body trembling. He would not be able to break the curse on him, but his status as equal in power meant he could challenge the spell. "Fuck. You. And that is not an offer."

"Too bad that I have never been good with listening to what others want then, hmm?" He reached up and grasped the boy by the hair again and yanked back, bringing those brilliant eyes into view. "Now whose are you?"

"Good Merlin; yours, Tom!" Harry's eyes were clouded in lust even through the angry glare. Tom simply smirked, eyes remaining locked with Harry's even as he thrust forward, guiding himself with only saliva as lubricant and watching Potter's face twist into a grimace. It wasn't as if the boy needed preparation with their regular sex life, but being taken nearly dry would never be comfortable for anyone. Not that Tom cared, of course.

"That's right," Tom panted as he pulled back and pressed forward once more. "Mine."

"Damnit!" Harry's voice was nearly a whine, throaty and gasping. "Gods, Tom, let me touch you!"

It wasn't any kind of affection that made the hand tugging at black locks slide down Potter's body, nor was it remorse that had him trailing his fingers teasingly over his partner's shaft and then caressing along with his every move. It wasn't the way Harry began chanting his name like a mantra that made him release the damned spell, allowing both of their bodies to move together. And as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead into the tanned shoulder, gasping for breath, he certainly did not feel compelled to meet the panting mouth with his own.

Anger sped their lust, and soon Tom was no longer able to keep up his attention to Harry's erection as he gripped slim hips for dear life, moving faster. He felt Potter scrabbling to grip himself, but nothing registered in his mind beyond the completion that hovered just out of reach.

Gods, how he had needed this since the night before, since the day before that and the day before that. He merely had to look at the boy and he was consumed with the need to touch him, to taste his skin and bury himself inside him. He had never been this addicted to another human being before, never felt need so great for anything but power. And in the foggy moments as he approached climax, Tom knew exactly why that was, and he knew exactly why the boy always ended up as the center of his universe. This epiphany would be ignored if it was even remembered, but he knew.

In the heat of passion, Tom was content with the knowledge that he loved Harry Potter.

And somewhere, the defiance of the prophecy was heralded as the 'power the Dark Lord knows not' was realized.

A/N: When I thought of the Mannequin spell to use on Trelawney, this wasn't my intention at all. O.o; Oh my.

This isn't anything like my usual smut writing, because I wanted raunchy and yet as non-graphic as possible… which is a really, really weird combination. I am paranoid of this story being deleted, because I would bawl my eyes out and I think it would kill my inspiration entirely, so I was really, really censoring myself. I'm not happy with it, I don't think, but it will do.

Loçkë is Albanian, and I'll tell you what it means when Harry asks later. You can look it up, of course, but since Harry doesn't know, I won't say until he does. Thanks to Duchess Ravenheart for the idea to use Albanian. :)

Revised: 3/20/09 (Umm... typos during a sex scene are fail. I can't believe no one pointed them out before, haha! I lose.)