Chapter: 15

A/n: It has been brought to my attention that I am going…slow in this story. This is my biggest weakness because I keep extending out plot lines and keep the reader just waiting for things to pick up and move. I did it in Heaven and StAtFM. I hope to pick the story up, with that being said…

This chapter is a time skip once again.

Chapter Fifteen: Freefall

“You haven’t meditated lately,” it wasn’t a question. Just a statement.

Harry rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, grinning ear to ear. The white’s around his eyes were red and there were deep circles surrounding his striking feature. Even those brilliant green eyes seemed slightly dim. “Lately?” Harry questioned, giving an almost choked-like laugh. “I haven’t meditated since the first day of school.” He looked around. “Have you seen Neville?”

He tried to push past Blaise, but the black wizard shot out his hand and curled it around Harry’s arm. “You’ve been avoiding me and the rest of the Slytherin’s lately.” The handsome young man shook his head. “No, there I go again, using the word ‘lately’. You’ve been avoiding me since the start of term, Harrison. In, fact-,”

“Blaise, I apologize, but really, I’m more than fine!” He patted the boy’s hand on his arm. “I’ve been just really busy. The homework the professor’s give us, the prefect duties, and Neville always needs help in potions. We can’t send him off to the Dark Lord unprepared, can we?” Harry scoffed, head and eyes twitching subconsciously.

“That’s it,” Blaise shook his head again, looking at Harry as if he were a dirty hag. “I’m telling my mother. It’s October, Harrison. You haven’t meditated since the start of September. You’ve been hanging around Longbottom too much and calling him Neville as if you like him-,”

“He’s really not so bad.” Harry shrugged, frowning. “You just need to get used to him.” Well, Neville did seem to ignore Harry in a way, but he needed to just push past that barrier. Hermione and he got on fine. Especially when she wanted questions answered about their homework. Actually…the more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that’s all Hermione wanted to talk to him about. Odd.

“You’re Seer mark is fading,” Blaise seemed shocked, his eyes wide. “You haven’t Seen any visions, have you? Merlin, Harry, what the hell is wrong with you…”

Harry leaned forward, his lips close to Blaise’s ear. “I’ve been thinking lately, Blaise. Actually, Headmaster Dumbledore has been talking with me. I’ve gotten it all wrong. Lord Voldemort isn’t exactly the best wizard to follow in this war. He’s completely delusional if he thinks he can win this war. And I know you, Blaise. You don’t like being on the loosing side. Hell, Dumbledore already has the Ministry at his disposal, the giants…and I can court the magical creatures easily for him. It’s all in the palm of our hand.”

Blaise reared back, slamming his palms against Harry’s chest and pushing him backward. The smaller boy stumbled and hit the wall. “You’re bloody insane.” With that, Blaise took off in a sprint toward the Divination tower. Harry contemplated on asking Blaise to pass on his greetings to his mother for him, but decided against it. He hadn’t seen Pythia this year yet. They always seemed to hit and miss each other in the hallways and he didn’t have Divination, so he wouldn’t see her in class…

Perhaps he could stop by and pay her a visit.

Harry shook his head at Blaise’s back. He didn’t understand why he had thought the boy was decent to be around. People change; perhaps he had finally changed- finally woken up to the world around him. Merlin, he had been so…dense. Supporting a lost cause in Voldemort when the man would only use him for his own selfish purposes? Going around like a stick was stuck up his arse? Hiding in the shadows?

And he didn’t care much about his fading Seer ability. Dumbledore had discussed the negative side affects for altering someone’s emotions. Harry scoffed and continued down the hallway. He had used to take pleasure in causing people pain. He had thought it amusing. It was rather immature. He had been immature.

“Harry!” Hermione beckoned him over with a gloved hand. “Are you coming?”

He tightened his cloak about his throat, grinning as he made his way over to her. It was Hogsmeade weekend and he was looking forward to spending more time with Hermione and Neville. Ron too…although the red head never really seemed to talk around him. It wasn’t in Harry’s place to change Ron’s feelings for him. Free will was powerful…something Harry wouldn’t take away from the youngest male Weasley.

With a bounce in his step, he stepped out into the crisp late October day.

--SSC--

The four sat at a table at the Three Broomsticks. Each occupant nursed a butterbeer between their cold hands, trying to warm up. Instead of the cheer at the table like the rest of the pub, their table consisted of nothing but awkward silence. Harry was oblivious to the way Ron and Neville sent him looks, and enjoyed his drink.

“How are your lessons with Dumbledore-,” Hermione shut up as Neville threw her a dirty look.

Harry perked up. “You’re having lessons with Dumbledore?”

“That’s really none of your business, is it?” Ron asked scathingly.

“Ronald,” Hermione scolded, her eyebrows deepening into a frown. Neville shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but Harry.

“No, it’s alright. It isn’t really none of my business,” Harry shrugged, taking a long sip from his bottle. He didn’t understand the sharp pain in his head, or the heaviness settled around his temples. The Horcrux around his neck stung severely, but he ignored it. He had been ignoring it for a good while, not too sure what to do with it. A part of him wanted to give it to Dumbledore to let the man decide what to do, but there was something making him keep hold on it.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Ron raised his voice, leaning forward. “You’re a bloody idiot!” He ignored Hermione’s sharp intake of breath and calming hand on his arm. “We try to be nice about it, Malfoy,” Ron muttered, lowering his voice back down. “But we don’t trust you. We don’t like you. And we don’t want to hang around you.” He took a deep breath. “Please, understand us when we say that we don’t want to make you feel bad, but we need time to ourselves…”

Harry blinked, frowning. “I…I thought you liked me.” A part of him cringed at his weak voice. Merlin. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel like there was something, deep, inside him? Dumbledore helped him understand his mistakes in life. He shouldn’t be feeling anything…so dark.

He looked at Neville, watching as the boy looked crestfallen and his expression was full of pity. Hermione was biting her lip, looking uncertainly at Ron and Harry. “I…understand,” he stood up. Ron sat back against his chair, frowning. “I’ll leave you alone then.”

What would he do now that the people he was trying to befriend wouldn’t open up to him? It was like his first year, his second year, his third… but Dumbledore said things wouldn’t turn out like that again. Maybe they just needed time to cool down and discuss things privately?

He left the pub, pulling on his gloves. Perhaps he needed to have another discussion with Dumbledore. Neville was probably going through a hard time at the moment and he just needed his close friends nearby. It was probably best that he told Dumbledore about Voldemort’s awareness of Neville being his Horcrux.

Harry shivered. He didn’t understand why he had been so jealous of Neville for carrying a piece of some else’s soul.

He hadn’t been watching where he was going, and before he knew it, he was slowly wandering deeper into Hogsmeade. His chest was leading him through shops and alleyways, until he stopped near a moldy brick wall. Harry blinked in confusion, not understanding why he was subconsciously being led here. His breath crystallized before his eyes as he tightened his arms around his small chest.

Just as he was about to turn back, the strong smell of lilacs filled his nose. Tensing and unfolding his magic, he had no time to defend himself as skeletal hands clutched his small shoulders in a harsh grasp.

“I said just one sign…”

Crimson eyes glowed, drilling into his own.

And then a thick cord snapped painfully in his mind.

And all went black.

--SSC--

Dumbledore reared back as the silver ornament on his desk exploded in pieces.

A lipless smile crossed his lips. It appeared as if Harrison Malfoy would be back to normal in a day’s time. He had to admit, he was oddly disappointed in the challenge Harrison gave him. It was far too easy to manipulate the boy. His goal was to manipulate the boy for a good week, if not two. But he got a month. It made him think twice about wasting the time to court the Seer to his side. Alas, Seers were powerful creatures and a good object to have on his side.

Despite the fact that he wasn’t able to get everything out from Harry as he wanted, he did get a whole months worth of the boy’s and Tom’s distraction. Albus was well aware of the eyes Tom had on Harrison. No doubt the Dark Lord would have been too distracted with his Match’s change in direction to anything worth real acknowledgement. And that would cost the dark.

Albus flipped through the parchments on his desk, a true smile forming on his face at the number of acceptances.

He was pleased at the turn of the war. Things were indeed in his favor.

And Harrison wasn’t completely lost to the dark. Granted, the Seer would be livid to know what he had done, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

And the first and foremost trick…

…was honesty and a few fun distractions.

--SSC--

The initial thing he was aware of as he woke from his unconsciousness was the hard and cold floor. He shivered, swallowing heavily. But his discomfort slowly disappeared as he remembered. Everything.

He shot up, hissing. The air around him sparked and static sounded through the room. His hair stood up on end and fingers clutched at his side. Across from him, Voldemort sat coldly, calmly, behind his desk. Harry’s magic should have harmed anyone within distance, but Voldemort was his Match, causing his raw magic to bounce off the man in sparks. The Dark Lord never flinched as he finished whatever he was writing.

“I find it pathetically weak of you,” Voldemort whispered softly. Harrison flinched, feeling his stomach turn in disgust at himself. “You are my Match. I am embarrassed to admit that.” Crimson eyes rose to his own. “You said you could handle Dumbledore. And what happens?”

“I’m stupid, I know,” Harry spat. His fingers buried themselves in his hair, pulling on the silky strands.

“He manipulated you, using a simple manipulative ball.”

“I should have known…” That month had been a literal hell for him. It was as if his common sense were swallowed under a veil. His Seer was completely gone…and Harry had been molded to Dumbledore’s liking. “I’m so stupid…” he repeated, whispering to himself. He was stupid. And he felt sick at how he had acted for a while month. He avoided the Slytherins completely and stuck himself to the Golden Fucking Trio. He acted like such a needy and weak little boy. He acted how he did in first year. He felt sick. He let them all say nasty things about him…he let them get away with it. If he had his Seer powers, he could have manipulated them into telling them their secrets instead of asking like an eleven year old.

“Fuck,” Harry spat.

“Very un-Malfoy like,” Voldemort mused, his face expressionless, if not a little disappointed. “Which reminds me, your mother has been worried about her letters not being returned.” Harry buried his head in his hands, not caring if he was showing weakness in front of the Dark Lord. He already had shone his weakness by allowing himself to get manipulated so easily.

“Is that how you knew?” That I had been defeated so easily?

“No,” Voldemort went back to scrapping his quill against the parchment. “I have plenty of eyes on you. I didn’t want to believe that you were manipulated so quickly…I decided to give you a few more weeks. It only got worse, so I decided to act on my word.”

“What word is that?”

The Dark Lord glanced up at him, bored. “Kidnapping you if you show just one sign of being manipulated.” He went back to his work. The only sign of life between them was the scratching of the quill.

Harry stood up suddenly, feeling his head pound. “You’re not keeping me here.” He felt angry and humiliated. Being around Voldemort in his moment of weakness was the last thing he wanted. What he wanted, was to go back to Dumbledore; to yell at the man and demand to know why everything had to be such a damned game in life.

“You can try to leave,” Voldemort replied nonchalantly. “But you’ll find that utterly impossible. I’ve set up wards against you leaving.” The fiery stare was back on him for just a second. “I had a feeling you would want to leave. But if you are so weak minded, you will be staying with me.” Harry’s Seer was back, easily detecting Voldemort’s deep sated anger and disappointment at him. He winced, backing out of the room.

All he wanted to do was leave the house and to build himself back up…give himself his back his backbone. He didn’t want Voldemort anywhere near while he did that.

Harry turned to leave.

“Oh, and I’ve taken to your suggestion and cleaned the house. You’ll find our bedroom in top shape for tonight.”

It was said mockingly.

Harry could no longer stay in his presence. He quickly left the study, making his way down the stairs; the same stairs Voldemort had strangled him on. Harry reached for the door, giving a pained moan as it burned his hand. Tears blurred his vision. He was a wreck at the moment, his emotions in a flurry around him. Disappointment, humiliation, anger, sadness, hurt… Merlin, he was a mess, and it was all because he had been untouch with his Seer.

He quickly made his way over to a dark corner of the living room, squeezing through a tight crook in the wall and sliding down into a fetal position against the stone wall. His knees were up to his chin, giving him slight comfort. As he looped his arms around his legs, he squeezed his eyes closed, desperate to reach Self. Self would be the only one to get him on stable ground, to give him his dignity back…

--SSC--

This time, he wasn’t on the hard ground when he woke.

Instead, he was laid out on soft sheets, feeling lips trace his naked shoulder. As he opened his eyes, he knew he was sturdy in this world once again. Self had a stern talk with him, pointing out where he went wrong and what issues were out of his hands. Dumbledore was out of his hands…it hadn’t been Harry’s fault for falling easily in his trap, but it was his fault for not being more observant during their first meeting. After his talk with Self, Harry felt more than refreshed. And he had plenty of revenge strategies in mind for the golden trio.

“I apologize,” the lips mumbled on his skin. “Forgive my callousness earlier today, my sweet.” Voldemort’s naked chest was lying on Harry’s equally naked torso. The Dark Lord’s legs were straddling Harry’s pert arse, giving the smaller a bit of a jolt. Harry’s eyes snapped open, wondering how they got in this position when he remembered the wall comforting him just moments ago.

“No,” Harry murmured. “You had every right to be angry, disappointed.” Green eyes turned tiredly to the side to look up at the Dark Lord. “I was a fool to be so easily manipulated. I was cocky and I underestimated Dumbledore, I should be the one to apologize.”

He stiffened as he felt Voldemort’s face burry itself in his neck, inhaling and…nuzzling? It was a rather soft caress, something unusually unlike the Dark Lord. But Harry hated to admit that it didn’t feel as awkward as he thought it would. It was a nice change.

“You told me to…respect you.” The word came out uncertain, almost disgustedly. Harry smothered his smirk in the pillow.

“I did,” it came out muffled and Voldemort picked up on Harry’s amusement. With a soft hiss, his teeth nipped the soft skin of his neck. “You’re doing rather well, My Lord.” He was utterly aware of the skin on skin contact. It sent him on edge, creating a tension between the two…not at all an unpleasant tension, but rather indecisive for Harry. Merlin…

“You’ll be staying with me. I need you in this war.” Voldemort murmured.

“I can’t stay, My Lord,” he was walking on thin ice. Anytime and the Dark Lord could snap. “I…I’ve been fooled once, it won’t happen again. After all, don’t you need Longbottom?” His tone was bitter as he pulled away from the Dark Lord’s lips.

“I can get him from afar,” Voldemort growled as Harry rolled out from under him. “It’s not like you were doing much good anyway.”

Harry winced mentally and scrambled off the bed. He found his Slytherin robe and tie abandoned on the chair by the fireplace. The room he was in was rather opulence. He refused to be affected by the black marble and the dark sheets and the gold fireplace. He was amused to remember dimly that the house had been cleaned. The Dark Lord remembers to pick up a feather duster but always seemed to forget Harry was a damned person.

“I told you, you won’t be able to get out of the house-,”

“I’m not,” Harry stated matter-of-factly. He threw on his robe, throwing a look at the half naked Dark Lord. “But no one said I had to sleep with you.” The red eyed man gave an annoyed sigh, black hair falling in his face.

Harry paused to study the man. He wasn’t exactly…handsome. But he had to remember the man was older than seventy. Even the most powerful glamour spells and potions wouldn’t be able to hide everything. Yes, the man looked young, but he didn’t have a youthful glow around him…and his crimson eyes were shadowed with both darkness and age old wisdom. The man was powerful and dark…which easily showed through in his appearance. But even if he wasn’t handsome, Tom Riddle was an intimidating and cold beautiful.

And he had a decent body. It wasn’t muscular, but rather thin, showing the sharp planes, especially on his face. Harry wasn’t complaining.

“Ah,” Voldemort sat back, staring at the Horcrux laying against Harry’s skin. “I did something to bother you again.”

“You did,” Harry admitted, covering himself. “Perhaps you should be the Seer. You are incredibly dense.”

Voldemort gave a malicious grin, eyes glittering dangerously. “You think so? Alas, sweet serpent, I’m not the one who was Dumbledore’s plaything for over a month.” Harry whipped his head around, glaring at the amused smirk.

“It’s over and done with, Tom. You will not mention my mistake again.” The two stared at one another, both of them not letting an ounce of emotion to show through. It wasn’t before long when Voldemort’s eye twitched and then he slumped against the headboard.

“Come,” he lifted a bony hand. “We are on equal ground; you have no reason to be so easily hurt by me.”

“We are on equal ground?” Harry questioned in mock surprise. “How could I have thought any differently?” Voldemort sneered at him. Harry blinked, feeling something ugly twist in his stomach. What if Dumbledore had been right? Granted the old man was a manipulative fool, but…what if Voldemort was only trying to court him now but once Harry joined fully to his side the man would discard him like the rest of his followers? Countless of the Death Eaters had felt Voldemort’s attention and would do anything to get his notice back on them. What if he turned out like them?

“Stop,” the room grew cold. “You clearly haven’t gotten out all of Dumbledore’s cobwebs. Never think I would betray my Match like that.” Harry took a step back at the harsh tone, feeling Voldemort’s magic crowd the room. “You are not one of my Death Eaters…”

Before Harry could register, Voldemort was before him. With quick movements, Harry was wrapped in something he would never relate to with Voldemort. An embrace. He had only been hugged like this from his mother, not from anyone, and definitely not the Dark Lord. A hand pet his hair. “For being a Malfoy, you are very emotional and soft.”

Harry hesitantly allowed himself to slouch into the arms. “I’m a Seer.” He said it like it was obvious. “And you are reassuring me, My Lord. You do this to the people you are close with. Do you really think you can be stoic with those that you need to trust and vice versa?”

“I see no reason why anyone needs to show emotions.”

Harry shook his head, frowning. Voldemort was utterly clueless when it came to showing affection or opening up. “No,” Harry started, pulling back and looking up at the Dark Lord. “You are emotionless to strangers or acquaintances. Or followers. But around those you are close with or trust, you can open up.” He studied the taller man. “I, personally, would like to see another side to you that no one has ever seen before.”

Voldemort looked rather put off about that. “Emotions? You want me to show you my tears?” It was spat, as if tears were a vile thing. For Voldemort, Harry supposed they were. The Dark Lord would only enjoy tears if they were from his enemy.

“Not necessarily,” Harry replied bitterly. He supposed with so many Horcruxes, Voldemort might not have very strong emotions. “But you must have uncertainties about the war. You may be unsure of things, or maybe you are eager to go to battle…anything. If you want me to trust you, if you want me to be loyal, I require you to come alive from the damned statue you show everyone else.” Voldemort was closed off for a long moment.

Harry was starting to get uncomfortable in the loose embrace. He had to remind himself that if Voldemort really wanted a romantic relationship, that this conversation was necessary. They needed to push past these awkward barriers in order to flourish together. And when he thought of flourishing, he didn’t just mean their relationship, but also their success on the battlefield and war politics. Perhaps if he just told the Dark Lord…

“You told me we would be equals.” Harry started again, not entirely sure what the Dark Lord was thinking past that mask of his. “We need to trust one another when it comes to the war, Tom. War is a long process; you need someone you can trust to complete the tasks that you can’t-,”

Lips pressed into his own, shutting him up. Harry was breathless as Voldemort pulled back. “No need to explain to me, Harrison. I understand where you’re coming from.” The man paused, his face contorting as if pained. “I just find it…difficult to show such weakness, even to myself. But you can be assured that I will try my best to make you feel that you are not my servant but something far more special.”

Harry looked up, a small smirk playing on his lips. He supposed if he weren’t a Seer, he would be royally screwed up; if he weren’t trying to stick himself to Longbottom’s side, he would be allowing Voldemort to treat him as a crowned bed partner. But as he was a Seer, he was more intoned with emotions and feelings. He was human and not a mindless pureblood who followed power with their noses.

“And with that promise, you just showed me leaps and bounds.” He knew Voldemort would never be perfect. Hell, Harry even knew the man would snap at him and have brief periods of callousness. But Harry wouldn’t try to change that. As long as he knew Voldemort was trying, that’s all that mattered.

Crimson eyes lit up and hands grew animated as they slowly caressed his back end. “Really?” The Dark Lord questioned in a sly voice. Harry grinned, knowing exactly what the man wanted. But his amusement vanished the same instant his clothes did.

“Tom!” He gave a cry and tried to pull away. He was in no way self-conscious of his body, but it was rather…sudden?

“You said you wanted me to express myself and my feelings.” Voldemort began, his arousal easily felt through Harry’s Seer ability. “Well, as of now, I desire you.” Despite the rather awkward moment, Harry laughed. Perhaps…perhaps he could play with Voldemort. He wasn’t ready for a complete sexual relationship, but he could give a bit of pleasure to the man for this agreement to work on his respect.

Voldemort faltered slightly in his antics as Harry gave him a wicked stare. And before the Dark Lord could comprehend, his lower torso was ripped clear of clothing as well. Cold air hit his hard arousal, causing the man to hiss in pain and pleasure. But Harry wouldn’t allow this chance to pass him by. He pushed Voldemort towards the bed, watching in delight as the Dark Lord went with his push and landed on his back.

“Act of dominance, Harrison?” Voldemort purred. “I’m afraid you won’t get very far.”

“We’ll see about that,” Harry caught and accepted the challenge. His thin body slowly crawled upon the bed and straddled Voldemort’s arousal. His heart skipped a beat at the strange sensation. He had never been with a man before, but Merlin, did it feel nice. The Dark Lord was rather large for his frame and Harry shuddered at the pain it would cause him when they…

“You should know I’m not ready.” Harry blurted out, feeling stupid for doing so. But he had to forewarn the man before they got too heavy…not that the Dark Lord would actually listen though.

Hands claimed his hips and red eyes looked lustfully up at him. “You said you weren’t a virgin.” The fingers tightened rather harshly on his skin, reminding him that Voldemort didn’t approve of his innocence being taken. The man thrust upwards, rubbing his erection painfully against Harry’s arse.

Harry bit his lip, trying to keep in his moan. “To a bitch,” Harry whispered, remembering Cho. With his eyes closed, he could hear Voldemort’s pleasurable chuckle.

Fingers slowly danced around his tight arse. “I will be gentle,” Voldemort mocked.

“And who said you get to top?” Harry snapped his eyes open, looking down at the smug face of the Dark Lord. Desire licked his chest, but he didn’t want to give in so easily. No, he couldn’t give in so easily. Voldemort had to work harder then to get complete sexual penetration. “I can give you just as much pleasure.”

Crimson eyes, already veiled with lust, looked him up and down. “I’m older than you and larger then you…in all senses, mind you.” Harry gave a growl in frustration, taking Voldemort’s hands away from him and pinning them above the man’s head. He knew, without a doubt, that Voldemort would always be the one giving, rather than receiving. He wouldn’t argue with that. But tonight, they were doing something a little different.

His magic grew around him, pinning Voldemort’s own magic in control. The Dark Lord jerked, feeling the odd sensation of their magic entwining together and merging. His mouth opened slightly as Harry leaned forward and kissed him deeply. Fingers still clutched his hips, beginning to draw blood at the harsh hold, but the pain only fueled Harry’s pleasure.

And without any mercy, he poured pleasure and ecstasy into Tom Riddle.

The Dark Lord gasped. Harry watched closely as the man’s slit-like pupils expand wider in uncontrolled pleasure. Harry, feeling oddly pleased, began to rub himself heatedly over the Dark Lord’s erection. “You…” Voldemort wheezed huskily. “Little minx…”

“You will never find such pleasure with another,” Harry whispered passionately into Voldemort’s ear. “Never.”

He felt Voldemort tightened his hold and met Harry with the friction thrusts. Harry allowed his head to tip backward in pleasure, baring his exposed neck to Voldemort. The man, feeling slightly shown up at being the one pleasured, sank his teeth in Harry’s neck. They easily cut open the skin, causing Harry to loose his focus on pouring pleasure into the body below his. “No,” Voldemort agreed. “I will never, as you will never.”

And with his legs, he hooked them around Harry’s small body and turned their positions around. As Voldemort hovered over Harry, the smaller didn’t take the submission as a sign of defeat. Instead, he played back. His fingers rained down Voldemort’s cold body, burning him up in his path. Their groins rubbed against one another in a heated frenzy. Harry knew, with the state of Voldemort, that he wouldn’t last long before he went against Harry’s wishes and entered him.

With that knowledge, Harry grabbed Voldemort’s face and lowered the man to his lips. Again, he poured in the strong emotion of ecstasy. Voldemort shuddered heavily, his already hard erection becoming unbearably full and hot. Nails scrapped down Harry’s sides, claiming his skin in red parallel lines. The Dark Lord made a loud noise that sounded like a moan and grunt entwined together.

Harry was able to feel Voldemort’s uncontrollable pleasure and felt the man’s uneven and wild heartbeat. Sweating bodies rubbed together and then Voldemort tensed above him. “Harrison,” he whispered against Harry’s cheek and climaxed violently.

Hearing his whispered name and feeling the hot liquid claiming their bodies, Harry came soon after.

Voldemort slumped tiredly on top Harry, not bothering to clean their mess. “You bloody brat,” Voldemort breathed, his sweaty arms encircling Harry. “Your damned Seer powers will be the death of me.”

“You are pretty old,” Harry agreed smugly, remembering the pounding heart of Voldemort’s. “Let’s hope the Dark Lord doesn’t parish in bed with his Match from a heart attack.” Voldemort bit his ear affectionately.

“Harrison,” Voldemort started off hesitantly. From his tone, Harry was consciously aware that the Dark Lord was going to share something with him he probably wouldn’t have earlier if Harry hadn’t coaxed him into trying. “You don’t need to think that you have to use your Seer abilities in bed.” Harry turned his gaze on Voldemort. “You give me enough pleasure without it. More pleasure than anyone could possibly give me.”

“Do I?” Harry smirked, reaching over to brush a bit of blood from Voldemort’s lips.

“You do,” Voldemort replied honestly, engulfing Harry’s wandering finger in his mouth. Crimson eyes glowed fiercely.

“But do you like it when I use them?” A part of him was ecstatic that Voldemort was admitting these things. Another part was relieved that he did bring pleasure to the Dark Lord without his powers. “I don’t want to be compared to your past lovers.”

“I never had a lover.” Voldemort curled a suffocating hand around Harry’s throat, squeezing. “I had toys. If you were my past toy, Harrison, you would be kicked out of bed as soon as I climaxed; whether you had come already or not. If you were my toy, we would definitely not be having this conversation.” The Dark Lord leaned closer his breath hitting Harry’s small hairs on his neck. “How many times must I have to tell you, you are my Match.”

Perhaps Harry was just as possessive and jealous towards the Dark Lord as the man was with him. He reached out and took a fistful of the Dark Lord’s raven colored hair. “Then I won’t use the powers as often as I did tonight.” Harry whispered and pulled teasingly at the man’s hair.

“Should we test that out?” Voldemort wandlessly cleaned their sticky mess between them and dove his own face into Harry’s crook of his neck. Harry gasped as Voldemort reopened a wound to his throat.

--SSC--

Fingers were stroking long platinum blonde hair. “Such pretty hair…” a voice crooned in the dark. Around the room, bodies of Death Eaters scattered throughout the floor and the walls. “Pity it’s not black.” The figure getting his hair pet was none other than Lucius Malfoy. Harry grimaced and stepped closer to his father.

This was either a present image or a future image, judging by the slight cloudiness around his vision. Either way, seeing his father sitting on a stool, slacked face, was enough for Harry to wish it had been a past vision. The man’s cold eyes were lifeless as they stared straight ahead of him. “Your son will come, Mr. Malfoy. And I’m going to enjoy seeing his face when he lays eyes on you.”

Harry knew that voice. He had only heard it once before, but it was enough to remember the uncanny tone. Turning his eyes beyond his father, he caught sight of Lord Octavio. The man had the same attire on, yet his hair was now a messy midnight blue and the paint on his face matched the color of his hair. Those deep pink eyes seemed to be a slight purple today, but nonetheless, the man was just as fascinating as the first time Harry laid eyes on him.

But now, now Harry was beyond angry. Lord Octavio had his father.

He woke up, turning to see crimson eyes watching him. He decided not to dwell on the fact that Voldemort probably didn’t trust him enough to allow his guard down and actually sleep in his presence.

“You said you were hunting Octavio,” Harry whispered, eyes wide from his lack of sleep.

“Yes,” Voldemort replied calmly. “I sent a few Death Eaters on his trail.”

“My father?” Harry questioned.

“Yes,” the man repeated. Crimson eyes narrowed on his onyx Seer mark. “What did you See?”

Harry buried his forehead in his palms. “They’re dead, all of them. Except for my father.”

A/n: I despise this chapter. It was a chapter, written by two different mind frames for the story- can you tell? Either way, I’m on track now, have no fear. And the ritual will be coming up shortly…

Voldemort’s and Harry’s…er…relations will never be gentle and sweet. No, rather graphic and bloody… some of you may be a bit uncomfortable while other’s may be…happy with it. With that said, I will have a livejournal put up sometime, putting up the more graphic lemon scenes when they really have sex. Remember, I am not all that great with lemons, so if you have any pointers, I am all ears. And also, I’m not going to have Harry and Voldemort’s relationship based on sex. They won’t go at it like rabbits…its more complicated than just physical relations.

As of the soft Voldemort in this chapter, have no qualms, he isn’t going to be soft among anyone. But with Harry, as you saw in this chapter, he will try to open up a bit. I think he deserves a cookie for this chapter, don’t you?

Thanks for the reviews for last chapter. Again, I apologize for not replying. I am completely swamped with homework/exams/work. Egh!