Harry and Ginny are about to get married (like, literally in the middle of the wedding) when Voldemort apparates in and kidnaps Harry before he can read his vows.
CHAPTER 1:"You look great," Ron said, smoothing down Harry's robes as if he hadn't already done so a thousand times.
"Thanks," Harry said, though his voice felt far away as he stared in the mirror. He did look great, in a way. His robes were hand picked by Ginny, who'd said they suited his skin tone, and had been her great-uncle's (or something of the sort). Maybe they wouldn't be what he would choose, but it had made her happy to see him wearing them and that, in turn, made him pleased.
"You can't back out now!" Ron joked, picking up his glass of champagne and sipping at it. He gave Harry a pat on the back, before leading him to the door.
There had been no dilemma as to who would walk him down the aisle, because as soon as he had mentioned the wedding Sirius had jumped up and practically insisted on the role. He caught sight of the man approaching, arms extended and a wide, beaming grin on his face.
"My godson! Getting married!" He shouted, embracing Harry in a hug which the man gladly responded. Harry squeezed tight, shutting his eyes.
"You ready?"
Harry took a deep breath, nodding, and plastering on what he hoped was an eager grin, "Ready as I'll ever be."
Sirius ruffled his hair, "Good man. And you are a man, aren't you! I remember you as a little pipsqueak, riding around and hitting us all in the legs with your toy broomstick. What a menace."
He smiled shyly, pulling away from the hug and trying to retame his hair, and moving to stand in front of the wooden doors that would lead into the wedding. Ginny had wanted something spectacular, and the design was certainly extraordinary. Flowers everywhere: lilies and white roses to symbol rebirth. Because the wedding was, afterall, a sign of their new society.
Voldemort and Dumbledore had come to a treaty almost two years ago, a pact of no violence. These had been the most quiet years of Harry's life, and he was glad the fighting was finally over and he could begin to live.
The doors opened, and Harry was greeted with the sight of a roomful of people sat in chairs on either side of the aisle. They turned at once to look at him and Sirius, as they walked towards the wedding arch.
He could hardly take in what was likely a beautiful room, for his heart was pounding and his breaths were coming shallower and shallower. It was the nerves, he had been told. Just nerves.
Before he knew it, Harry was stood alone on the dais. Sirius had moved away, giving him a thumbs up, but Harry could hardly see him anymore. His mind was fuzzy, and he could no longer hold his smile as he watched Ginny begin to follow down the aisle, Mr Weasley on her arm.
She was beautiful, with her long, pale purple dress and bright red hair.
But Harry was struck with the notion that he didn't want this. He turned quickly to face Sirius and Remus, who were smiling fondly up at him, and tried to convey his unease. They didn't notice, likely thinking it was just nerves. Damned nerves, they were just an excuse.
He stared at Ginny with wide eyes as she stood in front of him, unable to form any words as she smiled cheerfully up at him.
Harry didn't deserve her, not when she was so unbroken and happy. Not like him, not at all. The pressure of the room bore in on him, the eyes from every angle watching the Boy-Who-Lived as he was about to be married.
"Harry," Ginny breathed, one of her hands touching his arm as if a signal for him to do something. To look happier.
Please. I can't– Help me, I can't do this.
Harry begged internally, as the man to his left began to recite vows that he would need to repeat. He wasn't listening to them, though, he was begging for someone to notice him. To notice that he wanted out.
"Harry," Ginny whispered again, and Harry took a step back and looked back out at the room as if wishing for–
He shook his head, stepping back once again, as the room began to scream. Harry swung round fully, looking back down the aisle to see a man– to see Voldemort stood their, donned in black, swirling robes and watching him with a keen glint in his eyes.
"Hello, Harry," He purred, taking no notice of the screaming guests. Those with wands began to withdraw them, but it was a wedding and they were no longer at war and so this number was few.
Harry shouldn't have been surprised, not really. Voldemort always arrived at the worst times, the time that would make the most spectacle.
Ginny lurched forward, but her father was there to draw her back. Harry couldn't see the expression on her face, not when he was staring at Lord Voldemort in the flesh.
Sirius began to move forward, his wand drawn and pointed at the man.
"Sirius," Dumbledore chastised, looking between Harry and Voldemort as if they were on the verge of explosion, "Back down."
Voldemort's mouth twitched into a smirk, "What a nice wedding, Harry. I didn't get an invitation, though, which was quite rude on your behalf. Especially after all we've been through."
"Of course you didn't!" Someone shouted, but were quickly hushed by scared relatives or friends.
Even with the war having passed, Voldemort was still a taboo subject. He'd likely be a children's story in the future, one told to warn rebellious kids off of breaking rules. That's if he didn't make another name for himself first.
Harry watched as he folded his hands infront of him in such a casual manner. It didn't look like there were wands pointed at him from every angle, that people were hurrying from the room or pressing back against the walls in order to get away from him.
Voldemort clicked his tongue, looking Harry up and down, "You look pale, darling, are you quite all right?"
He couldn't work up the courage to speak, and yet couldn't look away either.
"Now, Tom?" Dumbledore said, seeming equally as calm as Voldemort. Maybe it was a powerful wizard thing, acting as if everything was fine all of the time.
"You cannot break the vow, Dumbledore," Voldemort replied casually, watching Harry with the sort of disdain that made him feel very put on the spot, "I even gave you two years of freedom."
Oh.
The bargain.
"I shall be taking him now," Voldemort continued, holding out a hand, "Come along, Harry."
He froze, the shaking in his hands so strong he had to clasp them together in order to settle them.
"You arse," Ginny spat, Mr Weasley still holding her carefully by the arm so she didn't attack the man, "You can't take him."
"Ginevra, what a pleasure to finally meet you," Voldemort said smoothly, eyes darting over to her, "I do apologise… was I interrupting something? I assumed the wedding was over already."
"You know fully well–"
"Do I?" Voldemort asked, his voice light and his eyes slipping back to Harry, "Why don't we ask Harry, here? He certainly thought it was over."
Ginny snapped, wrestling her grip from her fathers and taking a few, dangerous, steps closer to Voldemort, "At least let us finish the ceremony!"
"I think not," He said, shrugging in a way that seemed far too human for the inhumane creature. Voldemort strided forward, passing by Ginny with not even a look, and linked his arm with Harry's.
"Tom–" Dumbledore tried to interrupt.
Harry tried to pull away, but Voldemort's grip was too tight. His hand brushed Harry's, the contact cold and causing a shiver to run up Harry's spine.
"We'll be back within the week," Voldemort said, before moving his head close to Harry's ear and whispering, "Hold on."
Harry opened his mouth to reply but before he could form the words he was whisked away in apparition. The sounds of Ginny's shouts only echoes in his ears as the silence of transport overtook him, replaced with the faint sound of wind whistling in the distance.
Despite himself, Harry grasped at Voldemort's sleeve. It wouldn't do to be splinched, not when he was likely going to be taken to some sort of Death Eater infested hive.
They landed, and Harry stumbled away. He could feel tears on his face, wet and uncomfortable, though couldn't tell whether it was because of the apparition, or the circumstances surrounding his departure.
He took a quick glance around, spinning around to take in his surroundings. It was a simple room, wooden floors and bookcase lined walls, and certainly no prison.
"Welcome to Riddle Manor," Voldemort said and all Harry could do was stare.
Riddle Manor was quiet, and certainly not the scream filled hell hole that Harry had pictured when he'd struck the bargain.
He was to spend a week per month with Voldemort, as stated in the vow that had brought them peace. But he hadn't called it in for the past two years, and Harry had hoped the man had forgotten. Evidently not, for he now stood in the man's… lair? Home?
It seemed like an ordinary study, filled with red, plump armchairs and a large wooden desk that was filled with paper and stationary. Despite the desk being covered with items, they all seemed to be neatly laid out in accordance with some organised structure.
One one side of the room were bookshelves, the other had three, ceiling length windows. He could see green fields that seemed to go on for days, the sun beaming down into the room and creating shadows, dancing on the floor.
"This is my private residence," Voldemort explained, casually gesturing around the room, "And this is my private study. You may enter here whenever you want, if you are in need of something."
Harry snapped out of his reverie, turning on Voldemort with burning fury, "How dare you!"
He moved for his wand, patting down his pockets to find– that he didn't have it. Harry was in Voldemort's house, without any way to protect himself, and completely isolated from the outside world.
Voldemort raised an eyebrow, though it was completely hairless as he turned on Harry with bright red eyes, "You're welcome."
Harry spluttered, "For what? You crashed my wedding, scared the guests, and whisked me away to here. Your slimy lair in the middle of nowhere?"
"It's hardly slimy," Voldemort replied, stalking closer, "And you should be grateful that I broke through the wards to save you, like you asked."
That gave Harry some pause, "What? I didn't–"
"Please. I can't– Help me, I can't do this," Voldemort said, repeating the very words Harry had chanted in his head.
His red eyes darted to Harry's forehead, his hand twitching as if he wanted to touch.
"I didn't say anything," Harry insisted, "Take me back. Now."
Voldemort chuckled, though it was lacking in any humour. It was a dark, twisted thing that had Harry taking another step back.
"Blame me, if you'd like," Voldemort said nonsensically, "Ginevra would not have been impressed had you rejected her in front of all those people. Rita Skeeter, really? You invited her?"
Harry hadn't even noticed she was there.
"I didn't want to be stolen away," Harry said, though his voice was getting weaker and his heart was beating faster again, "You're a bastard."
"Are you not going to thank me? No?"
"Why?" Harry asked, taking another step back. Voldemort followed his retreat like a cat hunting food.
"Why did you choose now?"
Voldemort hummed, closing the gap between them. Harry couldn't move any further away, his back pressed up against the bookcase, and was helpless against the way Voldemort's finger dragged up the side of his face. It stopped, just before his scar, before falling away.
"I could hardly let my horcrux stay in pain for any longer," Voldemort said, his face suddenly serious. Harry took in a shaking breath– unable to respond.
Voldemort stepped back suddenly, stalking away, "Choose any bedroom you'd like. Dinner is at eight."
Harry only stared at his retreating form.
Horcrux?
CHAPTER 2:a/n: yes, this was previously a one shot. but after much deliberation i decided that this could be LONGER and i really wanted to explore the world that i hinted at before, as well as the relationship between v and harry.
For a little bit of background, the plot was mostly canon up until the summer between sixth and seventh year. Instead of the trio going on the run in search of Horcruxes, dumbledore and the ministry entered into talks of diplomacy (which i will talk about more in the fic). This fic takes place two years after the talks finished, and after two years of relative peace. Many of the dead characters are alive for various reasons: Dumbledore & Sirius for example.
Harry sank back against the bookshelf, holding onto the shelves in order to keep himself standing.
PLOT:
The Treaty:
Harry is to spend a week per month with Voldemort, though Voldemort must keep him fed, housed, and unharmed.
Voldemort vows to not incite warfare, and to disband the Death Eaters.
He must not torture or kill, and doing so would result in his immediate capture and execution by the Ministry.
The Ministry is to pardon Voldemort for his crimes, unless he breaks the terms of the treaty.
As a result of this treaty, there has been no war.
The Horcrux issue:
Dumbledore suspects that Voldemort has horcruxes, though he has not begun to search them down and find them.
Harry doesn't know what a Horcrux is, yet.
Voldemort has retrieved his horcruxes, and stored them in a safe place. He realised that Harry is a horcrux two years ago, and would rather keep him safe and close than incite war against him.
Hence the treaty term.
He was willing to let Harry live, as he was safe and happy, but as soon as Harry began feeling doubtful and scared, Voldemort jumped in to rescue him.