Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11390967.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort
  Additional Tags:
      Mpreg, Drama, Romance, Family, Humor, Fluff, Angst
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-03 Updated: 2017-09-02 Chapters: 9/? Words: 43158
****** Miracle of Deliverance ******
by Ellia_Bronsky_(Ellia_Bronsky)
Summary
     Hary Potter gets captured by Death Eaters. An accidental encounter
     during his time in captivity leads to an unexpected outcome, as well
     as some shocking revelations turning Harry's world upside down.
     =====================================================================
     AU in terms of 6&7 parts of the HP saga.
     =====================================================================
     My first attempt at MPreg, and I strive towards more serious approach
     to the topic, or at least try to include more fluff and romance, than
     outright crack.
     P.S. Again I write on the go, meaning there is no clear plan for this
     fanfic.
     Warning: The reason for the rating is right there at the very start!
     Beware! Most of the first chapter includes a long and thorough sex
     scene. I'd call it a rape scene, but there is a hint of consent in
     there somewhere. You just need to squint more >__<
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** I *****
Author Notes: The title of this fanfic was not random, as I don't do random
titles XD. It could be interpreted literary (in relation to the main theme of
the fic), or you could look up the Churchil's Speech after the famous Dunkirk
evacuation, "We shall fight on the beaches", where he said the phrase
comprising this fic title. Churchil was referring to the rescue of the Allied
soldiers, and this, too, fits the text well.
===============================================================================
He ran. Trees creaked, bows shooting in front of him, making him dodge and jump
aside. Leaves rustled under his slipping feet. He continued running. Wind blew,
ruffling his hair, throwing loose strands into his eyes. He still ran. Rain
poured over the darkening forest, its sounds muffling his steps, erasing his
traces from hardly visible path winding through the bushes, their thorns
scraping his arms and face, leaving ugly marks on his cheeks.
Three weeks. It’s been three weeks of wild running, random Apparating and again
running. He was almost anticipating the moment when his energy would run out
and he would be caught. At least it would mean no more running. They would kill
him, surely. Just two simple words and everything would be over.
Nevertheless, he still wasn’t ready to give up. Not hope, as he ceased hoping
when he was caught that first time, almost a month ago. But he simply refused
to stop and wait for the inevitable calmly and obediently like a good boy.
He would run till his legs would refuse to carry him and his heart would stop
in his chest. Not earlier.
He was a survivor all his life and he was not going to stop being one now just
because of some stupid joke of fate.
And what a joke it was!
I.
A month ago Harry was still at Surrey, Little Winging, trying to live through
the usual hell of a summer at his aunt and uncle’s house. He was anticipating
the coming of August, or rather the end of July: he was promised to be taken to
some safe place away from his relatives on his birthday to remain there for the
rest of his summer holidays. But he still had several weeks ahead of him for
now before it would happen.
It was evening and he was late from his customary stroll through the
neighborhood. If he arrived later than his cousin he would be left without
dinner, so Harry sped his steps to catch up and possibly overrun Dudley, who,
too, was returning from the meeting with his gang of friends. Suddenly he heard
a familiar sound of Apparation, followed by another, and then another one. He
saw several dark-clad figures standing just shy of the road he was running up,
glimpses of white under their drawn hoods. Death Eaters.
How they managed to learn of his address or why there was no Voldemort among
them, Harry didn’t question. He just brandished his wand, which he never left
at home these days after disaster at the Department of Mysteries at the end of
the school year.
He never got to say even one syllable of any spell – one of the attackers threw
something at him, and Harry instinctively caught the object. Familiar pull of a
port-key whisked him from the street silently and effectively without any
struggle or battle.
===============================================================================
The port-key brought him directly to some dungeon, where he immediately was
chained to the wall, his wand taken, together with his clothes. At least, they
left him some dignity in the form of his underwear, so he would not be totally
humiliated when the time came.
Or so he thought.
Three days later he wished that time came quicker. On the first two days Death
Eaters, one after the other, took turns torturing him – Cruciatus, muggle
beatings, knives, simple mockery, which in his state was almost as bad as the
physical pain they inflicted.
What worried him was that the Dark Lord never came. Either he was afraid that
Harry’s luck once again would bring his untimely demise, or he was busy with
something more urgent – although, what could be more important than his
nemesis’ capture, Harry was afraid to guess.
On the third day he was left on his own. No torture, no mockery, nothing. When
fourth day came, he once again was subjected to the visits from every Death
Eater there was. This continued for two days, and he was once again left
forgotten in the dungeon on his sixth day in captivity.
At the dead of the night, that followed, someone came to him. Pettigrew.
Harry expected another round of torture, or maybe to hear Wormtail slander his
parents. Instead he removed the chains, but brought a piece of cloth to Harry’s
eyes, blindfolding him. His hands were roped in front of him, but the ropes
were not too tight. As if Pettigrew cared.
Shuddering at the thought, Harry followed silent nudge forward and, stumbling
on every second step, went somewhere.
“Lucius complained about the smell.” Wormtail explained after a while, when
they seemingly reached their destination. “You should stay here. Take a bath. I
will bring some food while you’re bathing. You will have about two hours,
before Lucius comes to take you back. My Lord will surely need me, so I can’t
bring you back down myself. Don’t wander the corridors, stay in here. Please.”
This last “please” made Harry wonder, whether this escapade was authorised by
the Dark Lord. It looked like it wasn’t. Or maybe Wormtail was ordered to
simply get rid of the smell somehow, but the rest was his own initiative. Or
Lucius’.
Wormtail removed the blindfold and ropes and left him alone in a room. It
looked like someone’s private chambers: spacious bed, bookcase and wardrobe
occupied most of the room, the rest was taken by the fireplace. Harry briefly
wondered if it was connected to the Floo Network, but decided against trying to
escape. And anyway he didn’t see any Floo powder and couldn’t conjure or accio
some, as he didn’t have his wand.
He turned and saw a half-opened door, leading to the en-suite bathroom. Not too
lavish, but comfortable looking tub was the center of it, along with a toilet
and wash basin with small mirror above. Nothing grand, but convenient and
practical. The décor of both rooms was quite neutral – beige and cream colors
and light wood were the main themes, even the décor of the tiles in the
bathroom was light faux-wood. And neither the bedroom, nor the bathroom showed
anything remotely personal, like a vase, a flower, a picture or some other sign
of homely home. Nothing. This could have been a hotel room or just a guest
bedroom, but Harry thought he felt something akin to personality nevertheless.
The comforter on the bed was just too neatly folded, the poker near the
fireplace looked like it was constantly used and shuffled from place to place
in front of the hearth, there was a tiny hair in the wash basin, showing that
someone was here just recently.
But aside from these visible signs there was also the smell. Masculine musk
odor, although very light, barely there, was clinging to the bed sheet, to bath
towel and to the clean and seemingly unused robe on the hook in the bathroom.
Slight freshness of the aftershave remained in the bathroom, man’s cologne – in
the bedroom, shampoo smell was emanating from the bathtub and lingered on the
pillow.
This was someone’s private room. Probably, Lucius stayed in here when coming
for the Death Eater meetings, if it was truly his idea to make Harry clean.
Hell, he would agree to use Snape’s private bathtub, and won’t think twice, as
he was really dirty and tired and hungry. Even Voldemort’s chambers were
acceptable while they provided him with such an opportunity –
He winced at the picture he imagined: snake-like bald gray-skinned man, thin
and skeleton-like, with red eyes gleaming devilishly, sitting in this simple
bathtub, scrubbing his bony legs and in between. Almost choking on a bile which
has risen in his throat because of the picture his imagination provided, Harry
hurried to draw himself a bath and clean away a week’s worth of grime and slime
covering his body.
After washing he quickly ate the meal brought by Wormtail and tiredly got to
bed, intending to doze of a bit, making use of the comfort provided by the
fluffy bed, before he would be brought back to coldness and roughness of the
dungeon.
===============================================================================
He was waken from his slumber by the loudly opened door. Someone stumbled over
the threshold clumsily. Harry bolted upright, only to be toppled over on his
back again by the man, who barged in and fell on the bed, successfully pinning
him to the mattress with a heavy body. The intruder quickly discarded his
clothes, not even bothering to get up, and hummed contentedly, making himself
comfortable almost on top of Harry.
It seemed, the stranger had not registered his presence, so Harry tried very
carefully to get away from under him to hide in bathroom while waiting for
Pettigrew to come back. Unfortunately, the man, who, Harry thought, had been
asleep already, suddenly felt him with his hands. With a dark satisfied chuckle
the man brought his hips forward, grinding into Harry’s pelvis.
Harry gasped in fright and tried to wriggle from his clutches. The man, who was
still not uttering anything coherent, aside from occasional moan of pleasure or
a sound of satisfaction, grabbed him tighter and continued his ministrations,
squeezing, stroking and pinching here and there.
The stranger brought his tongue into play, licking and lapping firstly his
neck, then he went upwards to Harry’s jaw and ended all this with a hot kiss,
pushing his tongue into Harry’s mouth with force, making him squirm in
displeasure, trying to evade the intrusion. One of stranger’s hands found his
nipple and twisted it. Another hand stroked his torso and Harry felt it go
south, frighteningly close to his private parts, tenderly yet purposefully
gliding along his thigh, the man’s thumb almost touching his already half-erect
cock. He was still only a teenager and such attentions even from a total and
possibly hostile stranger made him hot and bothered.
Shuddering under the other’s touches, Harry still tried to get away, but was
abruptly slapped, the place of the impact on his mid-thigh immediately
beginning to sting unpleasantly. The man above him growled menacingly and
pinched the reddening mark on his leg, making the stinging sensation more
powerful.
Harry whimpered in protest, as he felt the other’s hand move, now circling his
waist and lowering towards his anus.
The stranger hummed questioningly and, still managing to hold Harry in place
with one hand, reached to the nightstand with another, taking something from
the drawer.
As the room was only getting darker with each passing minute, Harry couldn’t
see either the movements of the stranger or his face clearly, not to mention
that he lost his glasses long ago so his vision was far from perfect to begin
with as he could see anything even remotely clear only when putting his nose
very close to the subject he was looking at.
Suddenly Harry felt the stranger’s hand on his back again, slick and cool
finger immediately slithered into him, making him writhe under the man and
whine a bit at the unpleasant sensation. The second digit was pushed inside his
ass, followed by the third one and soon he could feel four fingers stretching
and scissoring his entrance.
Harry let out loud sob, anticipating with dread the inevitable intrusion. If
the stranger deemed necessary to put as many as four fingers inside his hole to
make it big enough for the penetration, than Harry was horrified to feel the
man’s member going inside, as it sure should be quite big! While the stranger
prepared him, he still continued to caress him and fondle with Harry’s own
erection, bringing him at least some form of pleasure, as unwanted as it was.
For some time it almost distracted Harry from the actions at his back, drawing
his pleasure-clouded attention to the hand on his cock, at one moment leisurely
stroking and at the other second squeezing him almost painfully.
Just as he was brought to completion, spilling his seed all over the man’s
chest and his own abdomen, gluing them together with sticky come, Harry felt
the stranger’s cock touching his ass, pushing inside with some force in spite
of his previous preparation and stretching. Harry cried out, when the man
pushed even more with a satisfied grunt, the discomfort from intrusion
seemingly growing with each breath and small movement of the other’s thick cock
inside him. Harry let out a string of curses, when the man tried to thrust
further. The chuckle was his only response. And then the stranger began to
thrust in honest, his movements in Harry’s ass making the boy see stars from
the pain he felt there.
Harry scraped the stranger’s shoulders, drawing some blood even with his blunt
nails, his frantic movements were so forceful.
Still sobbing, Harry tried to put his legs a bit higher in hopes to give the
man better access and ease his own discomfort somewhat.
“Wait a moment,” the stranger breathed out, sensing his attempts. And in the
next moment he slipped out of Harry completely. Unfortunately, the man only
changed their positions, laying on his back and easily lifting Harry on top of
him, motioning for him to straddle his reddened and throbbing erection.
There was no way for him to get away now, he realized, as the stranger would
surely raise an alarm and everyone would learn of Harry being outside the
dungeon.
Supporting himself with trembling hands, Harry carefully lowered himself on the
man’s member. The sensations were still not very pleasant, but this way he had
at least some control and the position allowed them to have better angle,
giving the stranger the opportunity to almost fully sheath himself inside Harry
with less pain to his over-stretched ass.
Harry made several chaotic thrusts met halfway with the stranger’s hips going
upwards in the attempt to speed up the intercourse.
“Move,” the stranger grumbled, when Harry stilled at one moment trying to
adjust their position to ease the tension in his trembling and weakening limbs.
Such way was less painful for his ass, but his legs and hands were already
giving in, as he did most of the work.
Seeing this, the stranger brought his hands up, helping Harry to ascend on his
cock and to go down afterwards.
Breathing heavily Harry arched his back backwards, when suddenly feeling the
jolt of pleasure shoot through him with the stranger’s member accidentally
brushing his prostate. Gasping Harry almost fell from his place atop of the
stranger – he never felt anything like it, all his previous experience
consisting only of fantasizing in showers and accidental wanking behind closed
curtains in the Hogwarts dormitory at night.
He knew, that in theory such things were possible, but Harry had no time to
experiment with his sexuality, only occasionally getting tangled into the talks
about girls (and sometimes boys) among teen-aged students of Hogwarts.
Harry whimpered something suspiciously akin to “More!”, embarrassing and
surprising himself. Surely, one should not ask for more, when they are being
violated?
The stranger gave his customary chuckle, but complied, bringing his hips up
angling them just so that Harry felt the same sweet jolt of pleasure going
through him again.
Harry tried to return the favor, rushing his up-and-down movements some,
swinging his hips involuntarily and dragging a loud and very satisfied moan
from the stranger because of this movement. Still in the mood for experimenting
Harry swayed his hips some more, making almost circling movement on the
stranger’s member. This resulted in an even louder groan followed by several
curses and wordless hisses from the man, who seemingly lost the remnants of his
self-control and was thrashing and thrusting upwards and forcefully dragging
Harry down onto his cock.
Then it was Harry’s turn to moan loudly, as the stranger managed to position
them so that his member hit Harry’s prostate almost every other thrust, and at
the same time he took Harry’s returned erection in his mouth, circling it with
skillful tongue, sucking and humming, sending waves of vibrations along Harry’s
cock. This was the proverbial last straw: after a painfully pleasurable minute
or so Harry was sobbing, moaning and thrashing on the stranger’s member,
successfully dragging him to completion as well with his movements. A long
drawn-out groan of them both signaled the joint orgasm.
Feeling his body washed in a wave of strange tingling akin to the sensation he
felt, when performing some of the more potent spells and charms, Harry
collapsed bonelessly on top of the stranger, the latter hissing with
satisfaction and not even bothering to remove his deflated member from the
other’s ass.
After several minutes of ringing silence Harry found some leftover strength to
prop himself on his elbows and look into the face of the stranger, on the chest
of whom he was still lying.
“You okay?” slurred the man, not bothering to open his eyes. “Hope, it wasn’t
too painful, hmm? I usually warn ahead, but–” he trailed off when Harry didn’t
respond. “Hey,” the man opened his eyes and looked at a boy.
Red eyes widened in shock, as did the green.
Harry paled and recoiled.
Just a moment ago he would have said something incredibly stupid and sappy
along the lines of “I liked it anyway” even though technically it was rape and
he was captive of the Death Eaters, and this probably was one of them, in other
words, his captor. And now –
Trembling and breathing rapidly, Harry tried to get away, at least partially:
Voldemort’s member was still in his ass, and anyway if the other wished so, he
easily could snap Harry’s neck with these huge and strong hands or maybe
strangle him without much of an effort, not even using a wand and magic.
Instead, though, the man underneath him simply stared, not lifting one finger
against him.
Moreover, just as Harry was contemplating a quick dash to the bathroom to lock
himself there, the man smirked and lightly raised his hips, as if in
demonstration. With dread Harry sensed the man’s cock twitching in his ass,
growing bigger with each one of Harry’s trembles and gasps. It seemed, the Dark
Lord was getting off on the fear and helplessness of others. Big surprise,
that!
Finally strong hands moved – only to adjust Harry, who was still straddling
Voldemort’s hips, so that his weakened legs and hands would need to make less
work if they repeated the intercourse the same way.
Harry blinked at that. Voldemort making someone comfortable? When he processed
the man’s earlier words he realized that they were even more shocking.
Voldemort apologizing?! For his big size, no less!
Harry shook his head in disbelief and closed his eyes in defeat.
He suspected this would not end well, even at that moment, when he was brought
to this room to bathe and realized that it belonged to someone, so there was no
need to feel surprised or to hope for salvation.
He should maybe thank Voldemort that he was not dying a virgin and relay to him
his satisfaction despite this being a rape.
Harry sighed and opened his eyes to look at the man underneath him: dark
chestnut locks, somewhat angled features, high cheekbones, slightly plump lips.
Red eyes. Aside from his eyes, Harry thought, the man was rather handsome and
he did not looked his age, his looks reminding Harry of his encounter with a
teen-aged Tom Riddle during the Chamber of Secrets incident. But, as just a
month ago Harry saw the same man all snake-like and monstrous, these sudden
changes surely were a sign of something big going on. Either the Dark Lord
found some new source of power or some old knowledge, allowing him to return
the looks of his youth instead of ugly and truly Dark-Lordish appearance he
sported before.
Well, Harry was not going to complain either way, all the more so, as he was
certain that the second round of this non-rape was coming up, and the more
handsome partner was the more preferable one.
True to his anticipation, the Dark Lord slightly moved his hips upwards,
reminding Harry who was truly in charge, despite him being on top physically.
“This time it won’t be so painful, I promise,” the unexpected tenderness in the
Dark Lord’s voice made Harry gape like a fish. “What?” a bit annoyed, asked
Voldemort. “I don’t do rape, thank you very much!” he growled. “I was carried
away after the Dark ritual and a bottle of good wine, Lucius treated to me! I
have you know, I don’t need to violate anybody, they lay under me perfectly
willingly!” while explaining all this, the Dark Lord carefully stroked Harry’s
thighs and lower abdomen, avoiding his non-existent erection for now.
“As you wish,” smitten, Harry sighed tiredly. “Don’t know why you bother,
anyway,” he mumbled.
The Dark Lord chuckled contentedly and continued stroking his legs, knitting
tired muscles with strong fingers.
“How did you come here? Last time I checked you was chained in the dungeon.”
“Malfoy. He said I stink.” Harry snorted. “What did he expect, perfume? I was
held in your dungeon for five days!”
Voldemort hummed absentmindedly.
“What are you doing?” Harry asked, slightly nervous, after several minutes had
passed and Voldemort continued just to lazily stroke and massage his legs, arms
and abdomen, with his cock still remaining fully sheathed in Harry’s ass, but
not moving, aside from his hands.
“Relaxing you. You’re still trembling,” the Dark Lord observed.
“Who wouldn’t? After the forced sex with the drunken Dark Lord anyone would be
trembling,” Harry grumbled. Despite this, he felt himself gradually relaxing
under Voldemort’s careful touches, his trembles subsiding a notch.
“I apologize,” The said Dark Lord sighed and abruptly slid out of him, shifting
so that Harry now was laying on his back underneath him, staring at him wide-
eyed.
“Wh-what – ?”
Instead of verbal answer, Voldemort slowly descended on him, trailing a path of
quick wet kisses along his jaw, down his throat and lower, kissing his chest,
though avoiding his nipples.
Licking and sucking continued, Harry felt soft lips on his belly, then warm
breath touched his groin, Voldemort’s mouth was nearing his twitching but still
soft member, tricky tongue gliding down his left thigh, then his right one. And
again Voldemort avoided the most intimate parts of him, only hinting at
possible pleasure, but not granting it.
Now Harry trembled for the completely different reasons, his breath hitching in
his throat, when he felt feather-like touch of Voldemort’s lips on his member,
immediately bringing him to full hardness. The Dark Lord’s lips collected the
precum appearing at the head of his cock, and the next moment Harry gasped and
jerked his hips upwards, when his cock was enclosed in warm wetness of
Voldemort’s mouth.
The Dark Lord gripped his hips, forcefully holding them in place, and made a
humming noise in his throat, sending waves of pleasure to Harry’s member still
fully in his mouth.
Harry vision swarm, when that skilled tongue began stroking and circling his
cock, low throaty humming of the Dark Lord making vibrations, which sent Harry
to the seventh cloud, his toes curling in almost unbearable pleasure. He cried
out, all coherent thoughts leaving him, when Voldemort took him even deeper
into his throat, simultaneously massaging his balls with one hand and holding
his hips down with the other.
When the hot wetness suddenly disappeared, Harry whimpered in protest and
managed to lift his head up and look down at the Dark Lord, who now was
kneeling between his legs and spreading and lifting them, bringing Harry’s legs
to his own shoulders. Voldemort shifted slightly forward, still holding his
legs upward and almost effortlessly slid inside him in one swift motion. Harry
gasped from sudden intrusion and buckled, instinctively trying to get away.
Voldemort bent down and again took Harry in his mouth, not moving his lower
body and only sucking Harry for a while.
Harry squirmed and withered underneath his ministrations, lost in the
pleasurable sensations and didn’t notice the first thrusts of Voldemort pushing
into him. When the Dark Lord was fully inside, he grunted in satisfaction, the
vibration from the sound going down his cock bringing Harry to his climax with
such force that he blacked out for couple of moments, only to be brought back
by the quickening thrusts of Voldemort pounding into him with low growl and
still sucking on his already soft member, seemingly turned even more by the
soft flesh in his mouth.
After several violent thrusts and some sucking Voldemort at last released
Harry’s twitching and again half-erect cock from his lips and concentrated on
his own erection, coming in and out of Harry’s still quite tight hole. Speeding
up, Voldemort groaned loudly, shoving and pushing deeper one more time before
forcefully releasing his seed, which filled Harry to the brim, making him feel
a wave of tingling hotness going from his ass to every cell of his tired body.
Voldemort tiredly collapsed atop of him, dropping Harry’s legs from his
shoulders and landing with his face on Harry’s thigh, near his once again full
erection.
“Who’s raping who here?” Voldemort snorted tiredly, his breath making Harry’s
cock twitch painfully, growing even harder.
Harry moaned in response, covering his furiously blushing face with his hand.
“Remind me to never again take a hormonal teenager to bed,” the Dark Lord
grumbled, bringing his hand to Harry’s member lazily and carefully touching
with the tips of his fingers.
Harry whimpered pitifully at the touch. He didn’t think it was possible to
become even harder, but that was what was happening. Dark sports swarm in front
of his eyes from the tension. He shifted uncomfortably, squirming and trying to
move away from the teasing hand.
The Dark Lord let out a trademark chuckle and slowly propped himself on his
elbows above Harry’s groin, his arms slightly trembling from the effort, which
was not surprising, really, what with two consecutive very tiring orgasms. He
gave out a breath, the puff of air touching Harry’s cock drawing another
pitiful whimper from the boy.
“New kind of torture?” Harry managed to ask between whimpers.
Voldemort’s eyes gleamed devilishly, his brows wriggling suggestively a couple
of times, infernal smirk coming onto his swollen and parched lips.
“Don’t give me ideas,” Voldemort purred.
As his face still was very close to Harry’s groin, his purring brought another
wave of torturous air to Harry’s erection, making him moan carnally and jerk
his hips upwards uncontrollably.
“Hush,” Voldemort taunted, deliberately choosing yet another airy word.
Harry whined.
Voldemort sighed as if defeated.
Harry groaned.
This was quickly becoming less and less funny, his hard-on was already so
painful that it was killing him, and the bastard, whose fault it was, just
continued to torture him with his teasing and taunting comments!
At this moment Voldemort finally took the matter into his hands. Literary. His
palm encircled Harry’s erection, squeezing it tightly, drawing a loud groan
from the boy. Then he began stroking him, his movements painfully slow, as if
he couldn’t decide how to proceed or maybe couldn’t remember how to do it
properly, with all those willing bodies at his feet he boasted about.
Before Harry found a snide enough comment in his brain, which was already mushy
from the pleasure he got, Voldemort let out another sigh and lowered his head
to Harry’s groin.
Harry let out a yelp of surprise, when the Dark Lord’s teeth scraped his raging
hardness.
“Sorry,” Voldemort hummed around his cock, the motion sending shivers through
Harry’s overly sensitive body.
Another wave of pleasure hit him just moment later, when Voldemort did
something with his tongue.
With wide eyes Harry looked at the forked long muscle looking like snake’s,
into which Voldemort transformed his tongue, rapidly shooting from the man’s
mouth for a brief second, encircling his member several times. This was too
much for Harry’s immature psyche. When that unbelievably flexible and skilled
tongue did something even more tricky on his member, he lost it completely,
forceful and long orgasm engulfing him like a stormy wave, dragging loud scream
of painful pleasure out of his throat.
Still in the afterglow haze, Harry thought he heard a growling “Fuck!” along
with a string of curses in several other languages.
Before Harry collected his thoughts enough to ask what’s happened, he felt the
other’s thick cock, fully erect and stonily hard at his own entrance, pushing
inside without problem and buried deep inside him in a matter of seconds.
This time he didn’t felt any discomfort. Almost. The Dark Lord’s member still
was quite thick, and his anus was not intended for such activities, so this
presented a minor complication, as the Dark Lord needed more force to thrust
into him and to come out, which he for some reason did almost completely.
Though Harry could agree, that this way the sensations were dragged out for
longer and he had a moment between thrusts to catch his breath, before
Voldemort fully sheathed inside him again, making him moan and writhe, trying
to find the position, which allowed his prostate to be hit. This was happening
almost every other thrust, Harry seeing stars and arching his back every time
with a groan or gasp.
When Voldemort finally came inside him, a jet of hotness going through Harry
together with his seed, they both fell limp on the bed, hardly breathing and
moving after the third round of mind-blowing sex and consecutive orgasms.
“I’m spent dry. You sex-monster,” Voldemort grumbled sleepily, not even moving
from the place where he fell – half-draped around Harry, his head on the boy’s
shoulder and his legs tangled with Harry’s, with one hand across Harry’s torso,
successfully hugging him and pining to the bed underneath the Dark Lord. “Don’t
you dare run!” Voldemort slurred, immediately falling asleep. Harry followed
suit just mere seconds afterwards, too tired to think of anything.
===============================================================================
Several hours later Harry awoke in the same position – in the Dark Lord’s
embrace, but there was someone else in the room – Wormtail. He was trembling
like a leaf and stuttering, when he whispered that he would help Harry escape.
Harry didn’t think twice and at that moment didn’t remember half-threat and
half-plead, uttered by the Dark Lord before they both fell asleep. He carefully
untangled himself from the sleeping form of the Dark Lord, put on the clothes,
which Wormtail brought him, and left the room and the mansion all together, led
by Pettigrew.
The Rat stuttered something about the life-debt he owned to Harry and to the
memory of his parents, but Harry, still in a daze, ignored him.
Pettigrew brought him outside, to the boundary of the Anti-apparation Wards and
bid good-bye. And after this Harry ran.
===============================================================================
Now, after almost three weeks of running he was dead-tired and almost ready to
just surrender. He knew he was chased by the Death Eaters sent for him by the
furious and horny Dark Lord.
The latter fact was confirmed, when Harry accidentally fell asleep during one
of the first few nights of running and saw into Voldemort’s mind, feeling his
body, as if he was the man himself.
Moreover Voldemort was beyond angry, sending Cruciatus and other Unforgivables
right and left, just for the wrong breath of his stupid followers. Wormtail was
nowhere to bee seen, probably dead. Lucius, too, was out of his Lord’s sight,
maybe chasing Harry personally, or attending to the other matters.
What was worse, though, Harry now needed to get away from any member of the
Order of the Phoenix, too, as they were chasing him with even more
determination than the Death Eaters.
Several days ago Harry at last managed to put enough space between himself and
the Dark Lord’s troops to attempt Apparating to Grimmauld Place without the
risk of bringing enemies to the threshold of the Order Headquarters. At first
all went well, everyone fussing over him, treating his numerous wounds and
cuddling him. But then everything went downhill.
***** II *****
Chapter by Ellia_Bronsky_(Ellia_Bronsky), Ellia_Bronsky
Chapter Notes
     Thank you all for the comments!
     I hope I wouldn't disappoint you with this chapter :p
     The next chapter is coming up shortly. I feel like a mad typewriter
     machine XD This story holds me in its clutches very tight, so you can
     safely expect two-three more chapters in the very near future. Then I
     hopefully move onto my other stories at last.
     =====================================================================
It was the third hour of him staying in bed, Madam Pomfrey tending to his
injuries and doing various checks of his health, when the mediwitch suddenly
stopped in mid-motion, her wand raised above his mid-torso and her eyes trained
on the glimmering ghost-like scroll hovering in front of her, where records of
Harry’s vitals and state of his injuries were magically appearing. She gasped
and shifted her attention to Harry with pitiful look in her eyes, tears already
forming in them.
“What is it, Poppy?” Dumbledore, who was also present during the treatment and
helping her, asked with worry. “Something’s wrong?”
She just opened and closed her mouth several times, no sound escaping, before
she managed to utter something incomprehensible.
“What’s wrong?” now Harry was worried, too.
The mediwitch took a fortifying breath, calming herself, before she finally
asked:
“Harry, did they do anything to you? Aside from t-torture, I mean,” she
clarified.
Harry blinked, not understanding at first.
“Do to me? Like wha–?” he interrupted himself, suddenly guessing, what she
hinted at.
Apparently, medical check showed that he was –
“Raped. You were raped,” the medi-witch whispered.
Feeling a wave of shame washing over him, making his cheeks red with
embarrassment, Harry slid lower on the bed, trying to hide, and covered his
face with the blanket.
“It was an accident,” he mumbled, the blanket muffling his voice. “Not a r-
rape.”
“Harry,” Madame Pomfrey called, “you don’t need to hide. It was not your fault,
dear, I’m sure. No need to feel ashamed.”
Harry just shook his head under the blanket.
“Harry, do you know, who – ?” the mediwitch asked carefully.
“Why?” Harry even lowered the blanket from his face. “Why does it matter?”
“Harry, it should be a real shock to you, and I don’t know how to say it, but –
”
“What is it?”
“You are pregnant, dear!” Madame Pomfrey deadpanned, her eyes even more watery
and a sad smile on his lips.
“What?! How?! It – it is impossible! I am a guy! Men don’t get pregnant!” Harry
stuttered in shock.
“Harry, no! Of course, it is quite rare, but some wizards can bear children,
despite being male. It is not totally impossible, as magic can do real miracles
deemed impossible in Muggle world.”
Harry shook his head in disbelief, tears filling his eyes.
“Why?” he breathed out in a small voice. “Why is it always me?”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, trying to held back the hysteria,
which was threatening to overwhelm him.
“Harry, do you know the father?” Dumbledore inquired carefully, coming closer
to his bed and putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Harry gulped, suddenly afraid.
He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was pregnant, but
if it was truly possible, if he could bear a child, bring a new life into this
world –
Or should he? After all, he knew, who the father was. Who said that this child
wouldn’t be a true heir to the Dark Lord and wouldn’t bring even more misery to
the world after growing up? Or maybe it was indeed possible to raise him, or
her, in some way, ensuring their harmlessness to the wizards? To raise them
like any other kid, shower them with love and affection, so they won’t chose
the path of violence and destruction?
And if Harry now would reveal who the father was, what would Dumbledore and the
Order do to them both, to the mother and to the baby, too? Would they demand
that he’d rid of the baby? Or take him from Harry and somehow use in this war?
Raise another Savior? Blackmail the Dark Lord?
Still torn by all these thoughts, Harry shook his head minutely, not
acknowledging whether he was willing to reveal the identity or even if he knew
it at all.
Of course, technically, he could pretend that he didn’t recognize the man, who
violated him, and it wouldn’t even be a complete lie: he learned who he was
only after the first round, and if not for the man’s eyes Harry would not be
able to recognize him, anyway. Or he could plead ignorance due to there being
dark, or him not wearing his glasses –
He caught himself in mid-thought, realizing that he was trying to avoid the
shocking matter of his own pregnancy even inside his own mind. How very
Griffindor of him!
“Harry, dear, we can learn the identity of the father with magic, if you don’t
know it yet,” Madame Pomfrey supplied carefully. “If you don’t wish to keep the
baby there are ways of abortion, although for males they could bring
complications, but we – ”
“No.”
“Harry – ”
Harry abruptly realized, that, indeed, he did not care for abortion. He had
already made a decision. He was going to keep the baby and raise him or her to
the best of his abilities. There was no way he was going to kill the tiny life
growing inside him. Never mind the father. Or the way the baby was conceived.
Rape or consent – it didn’t matter. He had been alone for so much time already,
longing for the true family and love from the moment he’d learned of the
existence of such things, at the same time understanding, that what he had was
not real family and that the only love he saw was directed towards another.
“My boy, surely, you don’t intend to keep – ?” Dumbledore began.
“Professor Dumbledore, now – ” Madame Pomfrey interjected with indignation. “I
don’t think it is your decision to make – ”
“Yeah, I can think for myself, you know! I am not five year old!”
“Mr. Potter!”
“This is my baby and my body!” Harry snarled, seeing as Dumbledore was ready to
argue again.
“Harry, my dear, you are still a minor – ”
“No, he is not, Albus,” the mediwitch talked over him strictly. “Firstly, his
birthday was just couple of days ago, so he is sixteen already, only a year
from his full emancipation, and secondly, Magical Laws are adamant on the issue
of a pregnant witches, or wizards for that matter. Pregnancy automatically
emancipates a minor, exactly for the reasons of them making their own choices
and decisions. You, as a respected member of the Wizengamot with so many
titles, should know this better then me! And if I am not mistaken, that law was
your own invention!”
Harry just stared wide-eyed, surprised that the stern matron seemed to be on
his side in this argument.
“Now-now, Poppy! Don’t be like that. Don’t you see? Mr. Potter is not in the
state to make a right decision after all he went through.”
“I am alright,” Harry interjected weakly.
“Please, Poppy,” completely ignoring his protest, Dumbledore gestured to the
magical scroll with the diagnosis, “We need to know who the father is, so if
you would – ”
The medi-witch pursed her lips in disapproval, but sighed and pointed her wand
to Harry’s abdomen, ready to cast the necessary spell.
“It could be a bit uncomfortable, Harry,” gently said Madame Pomfrey.
“W-wait,” Harry raised his hand, stalling her. “I know,” he bit his lip
nervously. “I know who – ”
“Well, my boy, let’s hear it,” Dumbledore prompted, his eyes twinkling almost
merrily, though Harry didn’t see anything entertaining in the matter.
Harry frowned and sat up straight, gripping the hem of the blanket with
clenched fists.
“It’s – The father is – ” he closed his eyes, preparing to the storm to come,
and breathed out barely audible: “Voldemort.”
The medi-witch let out a frightened gasp, putting her free hand to her opened
mouth in shock.
Dumbledore nodded grimly, as if he’d expected this news, but when it was
confirmed, the revelation made him distraught.
“Poppy, the termination spell, please,” firmly requested Headmaster.
“What?! No!!!”
“Albus!”
Harry’s outraged shout was muffled by the furious exclamation of the medi-
witch.
“The boy had already said, he does not want to abort the baby, Albus!” the
matron continued with raised voice. “I will not participate in this!”
“I am not killing it!” Harry exclaimed. “You have no right!”
“Harry – ”
“No!”
In the next moment Harry jumped out of bed and dashed for the door, pushing the
mediwitch, who happened to be in his way, aside.
He didn’t get far, though, before he heard the familiar spell being called out
behind him:
“Petrificus Totalus!”
“Headmaster, no!”
At the next second he heard the sound of someone falling to the ground,
petrified in his place. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Madame Pomfrey
lying on the floor, glaring at the Headmaster angrily, but unable to move.
Dumbledore waived his wand once more, successfully locking the door in front of
Harry, who turned to face him with dread in his eyes.
“Professor, please – ” Harry tried.
“Harry, you need to calm down,” said Dumbledore with false tenderness in his
voice, his eyes sad and not twinkling anymore. “Listen to me, please.”
“No – ”
“Harry!” the Headmaster raised his voice, not allowing Harry to speak further.
“This is unfortunate, but you can not keep the baby, I am afraid. Think
yourself who the father is. He will not allow you both to live in peace. He
will take this child away from you and lock you in the dungeon again, letting
his followers torture you or kill you. This child will be raised by the Dark
Lord himself to become a monster, just like his father. Together they will
drown the Wizarding world in blood, kill all but Purebloods serving Him! This
child should not come into the world! It will be a total disaster, Harry!”
Harry shook his head violently, at the same time making small and hopefully
unnoticed steps to the window.
“No, Professor, I think you’re wrong. I will raise the child myself. We will go
to the Muggle world, if necessary, run to Australia, or elsewhere. I will love
and cherish my baby. No harm will come to him or her, I will ensure it.”
“Harry, the offspring of the Darkest wizard of our times cannot possibly be
harmless. He will be dangerous – ”
“You don’t know it. If raised right – ”
“His father is evil, and the child will be as dangerous!”
“Am I evil, too? I am this baby’s father, too, just like Him! Am I a monster? A
dangerous animal?”
“Harry, no! Please – ”
“Sorry, Professor.”
Harry jumped through the window, breaking the glass with the impact of his
body, shielding his face and head with his hands.
===============================================================================
His jump was an act of desperation and Harry was very glad, that his luck
kicked in at that moment, so he only sprained his ankle, when landing. He took
off almost immediately, limping at first and then running through the streets
of London for sometime, before he collected enough energy to try Apparating.
Thanks to Madame Pomfrey, most of his more serious injuries from the earlier
time were healed right after he appeared at Grimmauld Place, but his body was
still in poor condition after the torture and consecutive running for several
weeks.
And now he had not only the Death Eaters, but the Order of the Phoenix on his
heels, as well. And nowhere to go, because, he was sure, Dumbledore had already
persuaded everyone, assuring them of Harry’s “treachery”, maybe, he talked even
to the Weasleys and Hermione. And even if they were not convinced, Harry didn’t
have the right to endanger them, as Death Eaters would be only glad for his
help in locating a family of “blood-traitors” or a muggleborn, in order to kill
them off.
His fears about the Order were confirmed on the very same day, when he faced
Kingsley Shacklebot and Tonks after yet another random Apparation.
He was lucky as the Aurors were even more surprised, then Harry, by this
accidental meeting, so he quickly turned on the spot, disappearing right under
their raising wands. Judging by Kingsley’s wand movement, he was ready for the
fight, preparing to cast either Stupefy or some other similar spell.
Due to two Apparations in a row, Harry was almost drained of his energy, as
Aparation without a wand was very tricky and power consuming, almost half of
the magic just going into thin air without the wand to help focus it. So he
again started to run, just to move from the sport he Apparated to, to change
his location as quickly as possible, before the Aurors would be able to trace
his magic and follow him here.

Ten hours later he was still running, his pace slower due to his fatigue, but
steady. He was yet to accumulate enough energy to Apparate to the other county,
and anyway he was limited to the places he’d known of and been to, or at least
seen before, because he hadn’t yet learned how to do it other way, beside
imagining his destination in his mind.
Harry hit his toe, stumbling upon some unnoticed stone, when he heard the
familiar ‘crack’, followed by two more Apparation sounds. Cursing under his
breath he dove into the nearest bush, hoping it will hide him from view of the
men, who just arrived here. In a couple of minutes they appeared on the road he
was hiding beside, rounding the group of trees, obscuring the view.
Tonks and Kingsley were accompanied by Lupin, who was sniffling like a dog with
a running nose, obviously seeking for Harry’s smell.
Harry felt a pang of pain in his chest at the betrayal of a man he deemed his
friend and as close to family as he could be.
“Are you sure, the trail went here?” asked Lupin.
Shacklebot grumbled something under his breath, possibly in confirmation.
“I still don’t get why we should chase Harry, like he is some kind of
criminal!” Tonks protested.
“Dumbledore said that Harry’s not himself at the moment,” admonished Kingsley.
“Probably he is under Imperius or some other Dark spell.”
“Harry was able to throw that spell from the early age, though,” reminded him
Lupin. “I don’t know what had got into the old man to order us to chase after
Harry. He regards him as his own grandson, you know.”
“For the Greater Good, he said,” grumbled Kingsley. “As usual. And Moody
supported him.”
“As usual,” Tonks quipped in. “Although, why Sirius agreed, I don’t
understand.”
“Did he?” Lupin raised a surprised brow, but abruptly sniffed the air several
times. “I think – ”
At that second Harry dashed through the bushes, away from the road and his
friends hunting him, ignoring loud noise he made on his way. As he had been
already discovered, there was no point in hiding anymore, he just needed to get
as further away, as his legs would carry him. He heard Lupin calling his name
behind his back, Kingsley once again throwing Stupefy at him and Tonks shouting
something incomprehensible. But Harry didn’t turn around, only speeding up his
steps more, when he heard that his chasers followed him through the bushes with
loud noises of branches snapping and men cursing at stinging thorns.
Desperately trying to get away Harry hadn’t noticed his path coming to a cliff
before it was too late. He tried to stop at the very end of the rocky hilltop,
but his momentum carried him further, resulting in him falling from the cliff
to the creek –
Harry fell into the cold water with a loud splash, immediately going under from
the abruptness of the fall and the shock. The current dragged him down the
stream, quickly increasing the distance between Harry and his chasers. He came
to the surface a bit later, when his lungs began to ache from the lack of
oxygen and his feet cramped from the cold. But all in all he was lucky, not
only falling into the river instead of ending as a wet spot on the rocks, but
because he avoided yet another confrontation with his former friends and
confirmed his suspicions about them.
Dumbledore indeed tried to goad them into chasing Harry, but he was clever
enough not to explain the real reason behind his strange decision. Although,
Harry could not comprehend why Madame Pomfrey didn’t interfere and explain
everything, as then at least Sirius would be on Harry’s side and not on
Dumbledore’s. At least, Harry hoped so.
===============================================================================
The river carried him for several hours before the current slowed down enough
and Harry managed to emerge from the water, falling face first on the steeply
bank breathing heavily and trembling from the cold. After a while he crawled
away from the river and into the shadow of the trees, growing along the shore.
He knew that lighting a fire was too risky, and he didn’t have any energy left
to try magically igniting the flame, even if he’d have his wand on him. As it
was, he could only warm himself up by running. So after a short rest Harry got
up and started sprinting.

Two days later Harry found himself on the outskirts of a small unnamed village.
He was sneezing and coughing, had a running nose and trembled from cold, his
head aching from a slight fever after his unintended swimming.
He knew, that he should forego his caution for a while, because he needed food
and a warm bed, if not medicine to treat his fever, so he decided to risk
entering the village. Of course, he didn’t have any money, but he hoped he
could pay for the shelter by working in the garden, or by some other manual
labor. When he’d get better, that is. As for now – he was swaying on his feet
from sickness and tiredness, ready to drop dead any minute.
His headache abruptly strengthened, causing a wave of nausea wash over him,
making him stumble on his way. Harry stopped at the wood border, steadying
himself on the nearest tree and warily looking around. He hadn’t heard the
sound of Apparation, and the place seemed rather peaceful. Although the
pounding in his ears was so loud he could have easily missed the telltale
‘crack’.
Just as Harry decided, that he was simply overly paranoid, and made a step
towards the houses, visible in the distance, he heard the rustling of the dry
leaves under someone’s feet not very far from him.
He whirled around, frantically looking into the shadows of the evening forest.
Nothing. There was nothing. Just his imagination going wild –
At that very moment his head erupted with pain and the dark familiar figure
emerged from under the trees, slitted red eyes glinting in twilight, pale bold
head reflecting the last rays of sun, lipless mouth stretching in a satisfied
smirk.
===============================================================================
Harry felt dizziness overcoming him, his headache increasing tenfold, making
him more nauseous. He swayed under the furious gaze of the snake-looking Dark
Lord, tried to lean on the tree, but his knees buckled, refusing to held him
upright. With a soft tired sigh Harry slumped down, his consciousness leaving
him, even before his body had hit the ground.
***** III *****
Chapter by Ellia_Bronsky_(Ellia_Bronsky), Ellia_Bronsky
Chapter Notes
     I hope I won't disappoint you all with the following chapters. I am
     really gratefull and glad to see all the feedback, being it number of
     views, kudos or comments, and want to thank each and every one of you
     for all of these!
     I have several more chapters, but I still like to have a chapter or
     two ready while I write the next so that I'll have something for you
     to read if I'd get stuck mid-chapter.
     Enjoy and don't forget to leave a word or several in comments! Your
     support makes me write more and more, you know! <3<3<3
     =====================================================================
He came to his senses with a low moan, his limbs trembling from cold and his
body aching all over. His head was ringing and his vision swayed, but he still
managed to recognise the familiar dungeon cell, in which he’d spent so many
nightmarish days during his captivity a month ago. It seemed nothing had
changed. If not for his fever, he could have thought the past month was just
his dream, a fantasy about being free. Ah, wait! The fever even fitted into the
picture. He could have become feverish because of the torture, for example.
Harry snorted derisively, the snort turning to hysterical giggles. The next
moment he let out the hoarse laugh, but abruptly stopped, hearing the echo of
his own voice, which made his headache worsen and made him feel even more sick
to his stomach, than he was earlier.
He tried to take a deep breath to calm the nausea, but the smell of the dungeon
– the lingering odor of old blood, sweat and other bodily liquids – caused him
to gag on the air, quickly shutting his mouth. He never was more glad that his
nose was clogged because of cold.
While Harry was fighting with his sickness, someone came to the outside of his
cell.
“Have you finally lost your mind, Potter?” drawled the familiar voice. “Were
you laughing just now?”
Harry snapped his head up and saw Lucius Malfoy beside the bars, scrutinising
him as if he was some strange and dangerous animal.
“Think what you want, Malfoy,” Harry responded hoarsely and lowered his head in
dismissal. He was not going to take the bait, Malfoy was not worth it. On the
other hand, if it was Voldemort standing there –
Though Harry was not ready to face the Dark Lord, either. Not with Harry’s
condition. He still debated whether he should tell his “big news”. No one could
predict how Voldemort would take it. He might kill Harry on the spot, just for
suggesting such a thing. Or he could –
Harry stopped his treacherous thoughts. Now was not the time for futile hopes.
Firstly he needed to break free, get away, preferably as far as possible. And
then, and only then, he could consider telling Voldemort about it. But not
before he’d put as big a distance between the Dark Lord and his baby, as the
world could allow him. If he was treated like this after their accidental sex,
which the Dark Lord seemed to like, he was not risking the baby’s life.
Australia seemed more and more appealing as a refuge destination with each
breath he took of this bloody dungeon’ air.
“Potter!” Malfoy called out.
Harry ignored him in favour of a coughing fit which shook his body.
“Is it contagious?” Malfoy drawled with disdain.
Harry purposely turned his head towards the voice and sneezed loudly.
Malfoy cursed under his breath and stepped aside from the drops of Harry’s
saliva and snot, flying in all directions.
“Potter, cease this immediately!” Malfoy barked.
Harry didn’t comply, as another violent cough made him bend on himself.
“I didn’t even start to torture you!” Malfoy protested. “When did you manage to
get sick?”
“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry spat, again turning away from him.
He thought Malfoy left after this, when the heavy silence fell on his cell.
Apparently, he was mistaken, because almost three minutes later he heard the
same voice again.
Malfoy uttered one of the lighter diagnostics spells Harry remembered Madam
Pomfrey use on him during his last short meeting with the medi-witch.
Shuddering from the feeling of the other’s magic washing over his aching body,
Harry hunched his shoulders, trying to get away from the unpleasant sensation.
Malfoy uttered another spell, this time more complex.
Harry suddenly realized with dread that his decision to hide his condition was
hopeless. If Malfoy now would learn of the baby, it could lead to awful
consequences. He needed to do something and very quickly.
Harry turned to the cell bars, dreading that Malfoy already knew everything,
and it was too late.
“Potter, you are running a high fever. Though I suppose you know about that
already, don’t you?” Malfoy raised a brow.
“And here I thought it just suddenly became hot in here,” Harry snorted, trying
to hide his relief. If Malfoy learnt about the pregnancy he would have acted
differently, so Harry was safe for a while. Now he just needed to avoid more
potent diagnostic spells, which could allow for the truth to be revealed
prematurely. “It must be a result of that dive in the freezing cold river I
fell into couple of days ago. So you can rest assured, my sickness has nothing
to do with your measly torture.”
“Potter, I could send someone with a medicine – ” Malfoy suggested, surprising
him.
Harry blinked confused, then snorted.
“You know you’ve already done everything you could in this area,” Harry said
quizzically.
“Mind to explain that?” Malfoy inquired.
“Nah. I don’t feel this generous,” Harry responded. “You can ask Wormtail – Or,
wait, he must be dead already after what happened earlier. Then all that’s left
is to ask your Lord, I suppose.” Harry giggled a little at the look of utter
horror on Malfoy’s face. “If you have the guts, of course. I’d warn you not to,
but you wouldn’t listen to my advice, would you?” Harry bared his teeth in a
nasty smirk. “So I suggest you prepare for a little friendly Cruciatus form
your dear Lord. I heard he is completely off his rails this days, so it might
mean a good-bye to you.” Harry’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with malice.
Malfoy shook his head in disbelief.
“You’re too dauntless for your own good, Potter. Though I would say that is
your one trait I could admire you for,” Malfoy added. “But enough of that. I
need to make you presentable before escorting to our Lord. So you will take any
medicine I deem necessary without a hassle. Do you understand?”
Harry tried to shrug but the chains prevented the motion, ringing merrily.
“If your medicine was brewed by Snape you can drink it yourself.”
Malfoy sighed tiredly.
“If you shower our Lord with your snot it will be you under that Cruciatus
you’ve mentioned earlier.”
“I am still not drinking anything. I don’t trust you not to put poison in there
somewhere.” Harry replied. “Or not to spit into it, which could be just as
poisonous,” he smirked.
Malfoy gritted his teeth.
“You are insufferable. I can see why Severus complains all the time.”
Before Harry could made another biting comment, Malfoy raised his wand again.
“Just don’t do any more medical spells, will you? Your magic is stinking.”
Harry complained, scrunching his nose.
Malfoy didn’t acknowledge that he heard his words, instead performing several
spells in quick succession.
Harry was surprised to hear only cleaning spells and nothing more.
“What, no torture spells?” he couldn’t help it. That was too strange, and it
worried him. Why the Dark Lord needed him to be “presentable” suddenly, when
during most of their previous encounters his dirty face and stinking clothes
never bothered Voldemort.
“Don’t give me ideas,” snapped Malfoy.
That comment suddenly brought back a wave of memories. Harry tried very hard to
forget all that transpired that night in Voldemort’s bedroom, but Lucius’
remark now set free an avalanche of images and emotions he had tightly locked
away in the farthest corners of his mind. Squinting his eyes shut Harry let out
a shuddering hoarse breath. He didn’t need the hysteria right this moment. On
the contrary, if he was to be presented to the Dark Lord he needed all his
emotions and thoughts in check, instead of a breakdown.
“Potter, what’s got into you?” The voice of Lucius, laced with something akin
to shock, brought Harry back to reality. He blinked, sensing hot moisture on
his eyes. “Are you going emotional on me?” asked Malfoy, echoing his thoughts.
“You wish, Malfoy!” Harry snorted. “Your magic stinks so much it makes my eyes
burn.”
Malfoy shook his head in amusement.
“You can’t be this touchy, boy. Here. You are ready.”
Harry was itching to ask “for what”, but restrained himself. It won’t do to
look desperate and fearful, even if he felt exactly that.
Malfoy brought his wand forward again, but this time he only released Harry of
the chains, which had been pinning him to the wall. With a motion of his hand
Lucius directed him to walk out of the cell and, consequently, out of the
dungeon and up the stairs to the main part of the mansion. Harry obediently
complied, though he felt like wrestling Lucius out of his wand and running
away. It was still not the time for escape, not with a throng of Death Eaters
this place was surely harboring now in the view of the public meeting of
Voldemort with his arch nemesis.
===============================================================================
After walking through the corridors of the Dark mansion Malfoy brought Harry to
a nondescript door. Harry expected there to be some big hall full of the Death
Eaters, probably with a throne of sorts for the Dark Lord to sit regally upon,
so he was surprised by the lack of grandeur to the door itself.
He was even more surprised when he saw the room behind that door.
It was an office, simple but comfortable, with a big desk, stiff looking chair
behind it and another – in front of it, couple of bookshelves with books,
journals and some unknown trinklets on them, several maps on the walls and not
one picture – portrait or landscape or still-life – in there. The feeling was
familiar: the room looked like it belonged to someone, but there were no
personal or homely things in it. And the scent. Yet another familiar trait.
Musk and masculine with a hint of freshness to it and notes of that one cologne
he tried really hard to forget.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks at the threshold refusing to enter. He was not
ready for this. A public meeting with a couple of rounds of humiliating torture
while exchanging nasty comments with Voldemort he could survive. But a private
talk with more human Tom Riddle he was not prepared to brave yet.
“Potter, what’s wrong?” Malfoy tried to push him inside with his hands, seeing
as Harry was just standing there frozen.
“Wh-what is this place?” making a tiny step inside the office, asked Harry.
“This is our Lord’s office, as you can surely see. I don’t know why he deemed
necessary to talk to you privately, but I won’t question him. You were right,
questioning our Lord will only bring a string of curses and a Cruciatus my
way.” Malfoy snorted but his tone was demonstrating his frustration at the
matter. “You will wait here. Our Lord will arrive at his own time.” Malfoy
turned on his heals, prepared to leave.
“How long?” Harry asked defeated.
“I do not know. You may need to wait for a while, though, as I heard the Dark
Lord is in the Ritual room now. And a ritual can last quite long, especially
one of those complicated ones our Lord is so fond of.”
Harry just nodded briefly in acceptance of the possibly long wait for the
unknown. Anyway, he didn’t have any choice but to wait. He couldn’t even ask to
be brought back to the dungeon, as Lucius wouldn’t listen to him. And this
place was nicer still, even with the dreadful prospect of a talk with the Dark
Lord ahead of him.
Surprising Harry yet again, Lucius suddenly patted him on the shoulder, before
briefly squeezing it. Afterwards he simply walked out of the office, not even
bothering to lock the door, absolutely sure, that Harry wold not go anywhere,
while the mansion was full of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord roamed its halls.
===============================================================================
Several hours passed. When Malfoy left, Harry stood for awhile before finally
tiredness overtook him and he slowly approached the chair in front of the desk
and sat on it carefully, as if expecting the piece of furniture to spring to
life and to bite him. When nothing happened, he relaxed a bit. After an hour of
tense waiting he slumped in the chair and nodded off, shuddering and snapping
his eyes open at every distant sound he heard. Then he even stopped reacting to
every small shuffle outside the office and just slept peacefully for a long
time.
So when someone finally came into the office, Harry was snoring wheezily, not
minding his surroundings and woke only when felt someone shaking him by his
shoulder rather forcefully.
“Potter! Wake up, brat!”
Gasping and immediately coughing from the breath he took, Harry opened his eyes
in fright. Surely it was not the Dark Lord waking him up?
Harry looked up at the man shaking him, dread washing over him at the familiar
sight of the red eyes on the very human face of Voldemort.
“Only you could have the guts to sleep in my office while waiting for me,” the
Dark Lord commented. “You’re drooling,” he smirked, long finger abruptly
shooting to Harry’s face and touching the corner of his mouth.
Harry recoiled from the touch, furiously rubbing his mouth on his sleeve and
sending an annoyed glare at the Dark Lord.
“Are you drunk again?” Harry inquired with caution.
Voldemort snickered.
“A bit,” he confessed. “These Dark rituals are intoxicating, even without the
added feat of a nice wine to finish them with,” he drawled lazily. Then he
furrowed his brow at Harry, examining his face and posture. “Are you unwell?”
“What’s in it for you?” retorted Harry. “Are you, too, going to throw at me
medical spells?”
“What do you mean by “too”?” the Dark Lord inquired, raising a brow.
“Your right-hand man thinks he makes a good nurse,” Harry complained. “So he
tried to get rid of my fever, but – ”
“You have a fever?” Harry was shocked to hear worry in Voldemort’s voice.
“So what? You will kick me out back to the dungeon?” Harry was genuinely
curious and a bit afraid: Voldemort was behaving human again, like he did that
fateful night. It could not end well, but, on the other hand, this could be his
chance for a much needed talk –
“I will have Severus to tend to your fever. I was hoping for a more lively
meeting, of course. But this could wait until you’re well again,” Voldemort
mused.
Harry shook his head violently.
“We need to talk!” he blurted out before he could stop himself or run away
scared.
Voldemort’s more human approach and his worry together with his slightly
inebriated state made Harry finally decide. This was as good time as ever and
he was determined now to speak to the Dark Lord about the recent development of
their relationship. And hearing the genuine worry in the Dark Lord’s words made
Harry’s choice on the matter: Voldemort needed to hear the news. From Harry’s
own mouth, not through a letter or a newspaper, Merlin forbid! And preferably
as soon as possible, before Harry’s former friends took the issue in their
hands and decided for the young parents what to do with the baby.
Of course, Harry was afraid, and he thought that he would not have more energy,
if he needed to run again – this time from a furious Dark Lord throwing
abortion spells at him, but he suddenly was even more afraid to face this all,
while being alone and somewhere at the other end of the world.
“We will talk, if you want it so badly,” Voldemort agreed, distracting Harry
from his thoughts. “But firstly we need to do something with your health,” the
Dark Lord added, going to the door and opening it. He poked his head out to the
corridor and barked out an order to call Snape, before Harry could interfere.
“Wait! That – that’s what we need to talk about!” Harry called after him.
“What do you mean by that?” the Dark Lord closed the door and returned to
Harry. “Aren’t you going to talk about that – ?” he waved his hand in the air.
“Which teenagers talk about after a night of accidental sex?” he concluded, the
word “feelings”, which had remained unsaid, clearly making him uncomfortable.
“That, too,” Harry nodded solemnly. “They are related.”
“Do tell, then,” urged him Voldemort. “How could your poor health possibly be
related to the talk after sex?” he raised a brow inquiringly.
“Iampregnantyouarethefather!” Harry let out in one breath.
“And now repeat it slowly, word by each fucking word!” the Dark Lord hissed,
suddenly appearing in front of him and lowering his face to Harry’s level to
look him in the eyes, his own eyes glinting furiously.
Harry gulped. Squeezed his eyes shut in dread. Tried to move away from the man
towering over him. Drawing a breath and thinking it could very well be his last
one, Harry finally collected his courage and spoke again in a low voice, barely
above a whisper.
“I am pregnant. You are the father.”
“Potter! Don’t give me this nonsense!” Voldemort roared enraged. “Males cannot
bear children! And last time I checked you were very much male! If it is some
kind of trick – ?”
“No! No, it’s not! I would never – !” Harry cried out exasperated. “Do you
think I am mental?! Why would I tell this to you of all people?!”
Voldemort moved out of his private space, but his eyes were still on Harry’s
face, frantically looking for a hint of deceit, a joke, anything to explain
this impossible, unnatural madness.
“That’s exactly what I am thinking,” he almost whispered hoarsely. “You went
completely crazy after that night, that’s the only explanation.” He shook his
head tiredly. “I would allow you to rest until your fever subsides and then
return you to the dungeon to again make you a target practice for my people.”
He turned away from Harry suddenly, as if tired of their talk.
“Tom,” Harry whispered pitifully, looking with longing into his turned back,
tears slowly forming in his eyes.
Voldemort’s back twitched, his shoulders hunched, but he did not face Harry, as
if defeated by Harry’s supposed delusions.
“This is magical world, don’t you remember?” Harry tried once more. “Miracles
do happen.”
“Even I hadn’t ever lowered myself to such level as to play on your feelings,
Potter,” the Dark Lord whispered harshly, not turning back to him. “That’s not
possible. Not at all.”
Before Harry could have found more convincing arguments, someone knocked at the
door carefully.
“Enter!” the Dark Lord barked, his voice still bearing a hint of unknown
emotion. Though it turned to normal the second the door opened to reveal Snape.
When Potion Master saw Harry in the Dark Lord’s office, he couldn’t hide his
surprise well, startling at the sight, before his usual mask of disdain slipped
back on.
“Did you wish to see me, my Lord?” Snape bowed slightly, receiving a curt nod
of acknowledgment in response.
“Severus, how are you skills at healing?” the Dark Lord inquired almost
regally, looking down his nose at the Potions Master.
When on the snake-like monster such motion looked like it belonged there, on
his more human face the disdain seemed almost comical for some reason. Or maybe
Harry was just getting used to his more emotional attitude, thus seeing nothing
but mockery in those blood-red eyes, when Voldemort’s gaze was directed at
someone he deemed a lower being.
“I am no medic, my Lord, but I believe my healing skills to be at least
adequate after many years of teaching Potions to stupid children, who blow up
cauldrons every time they can.” Snape managed to look superior even when
talking to his boss, for some reason. Or, maybe again, Voldemort’s human
features were the reason for him not to seem in Snape’s eyes like the scary and
awe inspiring Dark Lord he was.
“You may heal Potter here.” The Dark Lord motioned towards Harry, who was still
sitting at the chair. “Use the diagnostic spells, too. I would like to see your
skills at them as well.” Voldemort suggested.
Snape nodded and raised his wand, pointing it to Harry’s forehead, starting to
recite a complex incantation necessary for the diagnostic spell. Harry
recognized it – it was that same spell, which Madame Pomfrey used, bringing up
the ghostly magical scroll with the medical records appearing on it during
examination.
He sighed tiredly and got ready for a long session of diagnostics. With any
hope Snape would find out about pregnancy and explain to the Dark Lord its
possibility for wizards. It was not the best outcome, as Harry was not sure he
would like for Snape to know, but still –
Snape took a notable intake of breath, his indifferent mask slipping once
again. Before he could elaborate on the matter, though, the Dark Lord took it
upon himself to peek into the diagnostics scroll. His brow furrowed
significantly and he threw a nasty look at Snape, as if suspecting him of
forging of the results.
“Care to explain this, Severus?” he hissed. “Were your judgment of your own
skills inaccurate?” now he was very much the Dark Lord he was, even without his
snake-looks, red eyes glinting angrily and wand already trained on Snape’s form
with steady hand.
“Forgive me, my Lord. But the information is drawn by magic itself. I am only
casting the spell and cannot possibly influence the outcome.”
“Crucio,” the Dark Lord intoned impassively.
Snape’s left eye twitched, but otherwise he didn’t show any reaction to the
pain, staying on his feet with his back upright and body rigid for a whole
half-minute, before the curse was lifted.
“Continue,” Voldemort waved his hand towards the scroll.
Snape returned to his task, uttering a line of incantations and moving his wand
over Harry’s body. In couple of minutes the scroll glimmered, taking more solid
form, and fell to the Potion Master’s outstretched hand. Snape held the
parchment out to the Dark Lord with a slight bow.
“Shall I start the healing, then, my Lord?”
“Please, do,” Voldemort nodded, burying his nose in the scroll with a hint of
interest on his face.
Snape resumed his wand work, reciting several spells Harry vaguely recognized.
After several long minutes Harry felt his headache recede almost completely
along with his feverish shiver. It seemed Snape managed to reduce his sickness
to the bearable level at least, if not heal him completely.
“Severus, you are dismissed. Please, contact our people at St. Mungo’s and see
if anyone is able to provide assistance with this matter immediately,”
Voldemort waved the diagnostics scroll in his hand. “I still find it hard to
believe, that such a thing is possible, though,” he added thoughtfully.
“My Lord, if you would allow me, I can explain – ”
“You can try,” Voldemort made an inviting motion with the scroll tightly
clutched in his hand.
“While it is true, that Muggle science has no records of male pregnancies
occurring, Wizarding world healers, on the other hand, had advanced in this
field significantly, as we technically have the means of sustaining such
pregnancies by magic. Naturally, the wizard should be very powerful magically
to be able to bear children. And the other parent should be at least his equal
for his magic to help firstly sire an offspring and then sustain the baby’s
life during pregnancy period. Although a life of a baby can be alternatively
sustained by a non-blood related wizard of great power being in close proximity
with the bearer. This, certainly could put both the baby and the “mother” at
risk, and put a huge strain on mother’s magic, but in extreme circumstances it
is allowed.”
“So basically if Lucius during his youth had found the courage to stand up to
his father we could have had an heir to a Snape line now?” Voldemort inquired
with a hint of smile on his lips.
Snape’s face acquired a nice pink tint to it.
“M-my Lord! No, unfortunately, neither Lucius, nor myself wield enough magical
power to be able to bear children. I am afraid, in the Wizarding world, as it
is now, there are very few men with such amount of magic. In this part of the
world, I think, only yourself, and may be Dumbledore, too, can be powerful
enough.”
“If one is to believe that cursed prophecy, Potter here has a power, which is
equal to mine,” the Dark Lord grunted with reluctance.
Snape nodded.
“That could be the case.”
Voldemort turned to Harry with a scalding hot fury written on his face and spat
in Parseltongue:
“You, Dumbledore’s whore! You are disgusting! Jumping to that old goat’s bed to
play a trick on me!”
Harry cringed, his face reddening at the accusation, and pointed a finger at
the Dark Lord.
“That was you, who had raped me, remember?!Not him! And I have you know, that
“old goat” threatened to kill the baby!”
Now it was time for Voldemort to cringe, his face turning paper-white.
“Severus, is there a fatherhood spell?” he gritted through clenched teeth.
“Perform one now!” he snarled, when Snape nodded in confirmation.
The Potions Master shook his head.
“I am afraid, my Lord, I don’t know the incantation,” he confessed. Seeing,
that the Dark Lord’s wand hand twitched in preparation for another round of
Crucio, Snape supplied, “You can summon Lucius. He has mastered that spell to
repel the witches, who tried to wring aliments from him.”
“Very well,” Voldemort grunted. “He hadn’t left the mansion yet, I believe?”
Snape shook his and motioned towards the door.
“I can go search for him.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the Dark Lord waved his hand in dismissal and
grabbed Snape by his sleeve. “Your Mark, Severus.”
“Of course, my Lord,” Snape obediently brought the sleeve of his robe up,
revealing the Dark Mark. Voldemort put his wand to the tattoo, muttering the
incantation and sliding the tip of the wand down the lines of the drawing.
During the next several minutes they waited in silence, Harry glaring daggers
at the frowning Dark Lord. Snape just stood there impassively, not
acknowledging their silent argument.
When Lucius finally arrived, Voldemort was ready to start throwing curses at
him just for being slow in his tracks.
“What took you so long, Lucius?”
“My Lord, forgive my lentitude – ”
The Dark Lord waved his hand impatiently.
“Later, Lucius. I have an urgent question for you.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
“Severus tells me, you know how to cast a fatherhood charm on a child-bearer?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“I wish to see it. You can practice the spell on Potter,” Voldemort motioned
towards Harry.
Lucius bowed to his Lord and turned towards Harry. Without any preamble he
swished his wand a bit theatrically, uttering the words of the spell. Yet
another ghostly scroll appeared between them.
Harry felt the other’s magic engulf him, its currents wrapping around his mid-
abdomen, stinging like a rough wool cloth. He felt a slight pang of pain just
above his navel, similar to the needle’s puncture. The sensation quickly
intensified, making him cringe and hiss from a sharp stab of pain growing in
his belly. Before the sensation became unbearable, Lucius lifted the spell, the
scroll, like the one before, turning from ghostly to that made of real
parchment and falling into his hand.
“My Lord,” Lucius gave the paper to Voldemort with a flourish.
“You are both dismissed,” the Dark Lord uttered absentmindedly, after throwing
a quick glance at the scroll. “Severus, contact St. Mungo’s people, like I said
earlier,” he added as if in an afterthought.
***** IV *****
Chapter by Ellia_Bronsky_(Ellia_Bronsky), Ellia_Bronsky
Chapter Notes
     I'm still at a cloud Nine from all your feedback, thank you everyone!
     And I'm still cosplaying a mad type-writer machine XD and beginning
     to get lost in comments, as I am way ahead all of you. So I decided
     to shorten the gap between the posted chapters and those I am
     curretly working on :p
     Here is a double feat before the weekend - two chapters in one go for
     you! Enjoy!
     And please, leave a word or two, I'd really like to know what do you
     think about how this story progresses! <3<3<3
     ------
     P.S. I'm experimenting with different blog-platforms and trying to
     make myself comfortable at wordpress and wattpad. Yeah, that's a
     shameless self-PR >.< . You can find the address at my profile, if
     interested ;-)
     =====================================================================
“So, do you get it now?” asked Harry, when he and the Dark Lord were left alone
again.
“I still find it hard to believe, that the male pregnancies are possible at
all, let alone that you are with child. With my child,” Voldemort shook his
head bewildered. “I never – ” he cut himself off in mid-sentence. “Are you in
any pain? I noticed earlier – ”
Harry shifted uncomfortably.
“Malfoy’s magic was – unpleasant, I guess,” he admitted. “What now? Are you
going to – ?” he trailed off, not sure what he was referring to. “To me – us –
Are you going to kill – ?” even with less surety clumsily finished Harry,
cringing nervously under the Dark Lord’s over-attentive glance.
“Harry,” the Dark Lord carefully began, then sighed tiredly and rubbed his
forehead as if his head ached. “I might have been not very sensible once, so
your suspicions are understandable. But – ” he came closer to Harry and knelt
in front of him, taking Harry’s hands in his own. “That’s a child we are
talking about, Harry. Children are considered a blessing, and in Wizarding
world they are even more sacred, because less and less of them are born each
year now, more and more accidents and miscarriages happen each day. I know, I
don’t have the right to say this after I tried to take your life, when you
yourself were a baby, and numerous times afterwards, but I came to understand
this only recently. We need to preserve our numbers, the Wizarding race, but
for this we need to breed more, as rude, as it might sound. If I myself can, by
some miracle, be allowed to carry my line and to set an example for my people,
then I am willing to do all it takes. If the Fate presented me with such an
opportunity, despite all that happened, I am ready to cast aside that blasted
prophecy, make peace with the Wizarding community and even befriend Dumbledore,
if it is necessary for my cause. I cannot promise you that I will suddenly
become a nice and kind person, showering everyone with flowers and kisses, but
I will do everything in my power to provide only the best for my child. And for
the mother, too, of course,” Voldemort managed to produce a small sad smile, a
hint of something resembling kindness in his eyes. “We could have started on
the wrong footing, I admit, but I am ready to set aside our differences and at
least try to be a bit more friendly with you. That is, if you are willing to,”
he added with sudden uncertainty.
Harry bit his lip nervously, taking in a shuddering breath. This new Voldemort
scared him even more than the drunken sex machine he encountered before. He was
even less predictable. It was as if he was the one with a child, with those
mood swings and sudden bursts of emotions of his.
“Does it mean, I won’t be going down to that dungeon anymore?” Harry asked with
a lopsided grin, his lips trembling.
“Naturally. You will be staying up here. In my quarters. I would understand if
you wish to have a separate set of rooms, of course. If so, I will immediately
arrange for them to be put together,” the Dark Lord responded with a sad smile
of his own. “If it is your desire, I will see to it that we would never see
each other during your stay in the mansion,” he added with a slight frown and a
trace of undecipherable emotion in his eyes.
Harry thought that glint was akin to jealousy and frustration, but he could not
be sure. He shook his head and rolled his eyes in exasperation:
“Have you not heard, what had Snape said? Father should stay close, so that the
baby won’t strain the mother’s magic. Do you want another miscarriage case to
add to your little statistical collection?”
Voldemort blanched hearing his cruel suggestion.
“Don’t you ever joke about it!” he whispered harshly. “If it is truly necessary
for both parents to stay close to each other for the health of the child, then,
of course, I am more than willing to comply! We need to hear what a
professional Healer says, then, before we decide our living arrangements,” he
concluded.
Harry gave a jerky nod in agreement and suddenly swayed on his chair.
“Whoa!” Voldemort caught him, before Harry could fall to the floor. “You need
to rest and you’re still running a slight fever, I could feel. You will stay in
my chambers until the Healer arrives,” the Dark Lord scooped Harry in his arms
bridal-style and went to the door.
“Wh-what are you doing?!” Harry yelped surprised.
“Hush. I’ll take you to bed. I shudder to think how long you were running both
from myself, and from the Order as well, I take it, before I have found you.”
“A month,” Harry mumbled into his shoulder.
Voldemort literary shuddered at this.
“And you had already been carrying a baby inside you,” he grunted.
“Unacceptable. My child shall not be crippled because of that old goat’s
actions!” he hissed with quiet fury and a hint of self-loathing in his voice,
making Harry cringe in his arms.
===============================================================================
Two hours later Harry was slumbering lightly, laying on the Dark Lord’s bed,
with the man himself sitting beside with a book in his lap. There was a careful
knock at the door, startling both of them, Harry bolting upright abruptly and
the Dark Lord dropping his book to the floor with a low thud.
“Enter,” Voldemort urged.
The door opened, letting inside a sour-looking Snape and a short plump man,
clad in light-gray robes.
“My Lord, this is the Healer Algie,” Snape introduced. “I know his persona is
not to your liking, but I am afraid this is the only option for now, as our
other Healer is indisposed at the moment, so – ”
“I don’t mind,” the Dark Lord waved a hand impatiently. “He would suffice, at
least until Harry says otherwise.”
Snape tried to suppress his shock at hearing that.
“My Lord?”
“Thank you, Severus. You may leave,” clearly dismissing him, Voldemort turned
to the Healer. “Is this room suitable for you to work in or should I arrange a
separate one?”
“W-well, it depends on what you need me to do, my Lord,” replied Algie with
trepidation.
The Dark Lord indicated towards the bed:
“This is your task, Algernon. I am certain, Harry has slight fever, as for the
rest – you will need to see for yourself. Severus might have overlooked
something, as he is not a professional medi-wizard. And there is another
delicate matter, but again you will need to check first.”
“You still don’t believe it, don’t you?” grumbled Harry with annoyance.
Voldemort just shook his head.
“Never hurts to hear a second opinion. You may begin, Algernon.”
“Ye-yes, my Lord,” the Healer mumbled and turned his full attention to Harry,
finally understanding, that the Dark Lord had no intention to let him work
without his own supervision.
Algie began to wave his wand over Harry in familiar patterns, running
diagnostic spells, another ghostly scroll recording the process. Almost an hour
passed, before the thorough examination was completed. Despite the low regard
of the Dark Lord, Algie was rather skillful and true to his profession, so he
didn’t let out any inappropriate emotions during the whole ordeal, even when
discovering, that Harry was pregnant. The only indication of him noticing
Harry’s unusual condition was a slight widening of his eyes, when seeing the
words appear on the scroll, which was quickly masked by a polite indifference
and a soft impersonal smile. After finishing up with diagnostics, Algie raised
an inquiring brow at Harry and started to list out his findings in soft and
caring voice.
“Aside from minor fever, exhaustion and undernourishment, I can see no other
problems. Severus can surely supply you with the potions necessary for your
cold and nutrition. And you also would need good twenty-something hours of
sleep. That is all. Unless you would like me to get rid of the baby. Though I
would advice against it, as you are quite far in your pregnancy already, so
abortion could be potentially dangerous for your health and magic alike.”
When Algie began speaking of abortion, Harry instinctively backed away from
him, as if afraid. Algie furrowed at that and turned to the Dark Lord with a
question:
“What would you like me to do, my Lord? Should I get rid of the spawn?” he
asked, his voice suddenly cold and devoid of any hint of emotion. “Or do you
wish to know who is the father, first?”
“Yes,” the Dark Lord gritted through clenched teeth.
Harry sighed. He wouldn’t be surprised, if Voldemort asked to perform a Muggle
DNA test after that, just to be absolutely sure. Despite his heated speech
earlier, he clearly still doubted that it was his baby, and refused to
acknowledge it as such before getting all the possible evidence. Resigned,
Harry collected himself, remembering the unpleasantness of the same spell cast
on him just recently.
The Healer, however, didn’t make any grand movements with his wand, nor he
warned Harry, that it could be uncomfortable, like Madame Pomfrey had done
previously. Instead he conjured another magic scroll and tapped lightly on
Harry’s mid-section at a point slightly above his navel. Harry felt a warm
tingling sensation rush over his belly quickly, the golden shimmer appearing in
the air above it for a couple of seconds, before it dissipated with a soft
ringing sound, leaving Harry a bit lightheaded for some reason. Aside from that
he didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary this time – no stinging pain or
itching of an invisible wool blanket.
Algie hummed in satisfaction and tapped the scroll, hovering in front of his
eyes, with his wand, making it turn towards the Dark Lord, who was looming
behind Algie’s shoulder impatiently, watching his movements like a hawk, during
the test.
“Here, my Lord, you can see for yourself. The parents are listed here, as well
as the vitals of the foetus.”
Voldemort sent a brief suspicious glance at Harry first, before turning his
attention to the scroll hovering in the air. His eyes locked on one of the
written lines and he paled considerably, suddenly stumbling on his feet. He
made a step backwards, collapsing in the nearby chair in shock, and turned his
burning gaze towards Harry.
“Are you going to ask for a DNA test now?” Harry snapped, not understanding
Voldemort’s reaction. “Don’t you believe it yet?”
The Dark Lord silently shook his head, still pale as a ghost, the pupils of his
red wide-opened eyes dilated.
“Breathe, Tom,” Harry advised snidely, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Are
you going to faint?” he added with a trace of worry, when the Dark Lord
continued to stare at him, his pupils more and more dilated with each second.
“M-my Lord?” Algie quipped in carefully.
“Algie, you better do something, or he’ll seriously faint on you,” Harry said.
“What’s written in there? Why is he so scared?”
Algie gaped at Harry’s bold claim – apparently, no man ever saw dreadful
Voldemort being this frightened and lived to tell the tale afterwards.
With a silent swish of his wand Algie sent the scroll towards Harry, and
produced a small vial out of his pocket, uncorking it and bringing under the
Dark Lord’s nose.
Voldemort suddenly took a loud intake of air, immediately sneezing and starting
to cough, while simultaneously trying to raise his wand and curse the Healer.
“Tom!” Harry called out, grinning from ear to ear and tears of joy running down
his cheeks. “We have twins!!!”
The Dark Lord slumped down in his chair, dropping his wand hand on his knee,
never managing to curse the Healer before Harry’s shout distracted him.
“I’ve read that, you imp,” he slurred in a low hoarse voice tiredly, then got
up and came to the bed, swishing his wand on his way – healer Algie was
unceremoniously thrown out of the room with a grunt of “Don’t leave yet!”, the
door slamming shut behind his back.
The Dark Lord collapsed on the bed beside Harry and pointed to the scroll.
“Let me see that again,” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
Harry held the parchment up, his hand slightly trembling, and recited:
“Parents: Tom Marvolo Riddle and Harry James Potter.”
“No, not that part,” Voldemort, or rather Tom, chuckled.
“The development of the foetus is stable, two heads and two heart rates are
observed – ” Harry continued to read.
Tom let out a soft joyous laugh, putting one hand around Harry’s shoulders and
bringing him closer, his other hand going down to Harry’s still flat belly and
caressing him there.
“Twins,” he whispered in bewilderment. “Do I really deserve this miracle?” he
wondered, his voice quivering.
Harry looked up at his face, tears similar to his own glistening on Tom’s
cheeks and a gentle smile on his trembling lips. Suddenly Tom lowered his head,
bringing his lips to Harry’s mouth, and placed a tender kiss on his lips.
“Thank you,” Tom breathed out. “Thank you, that you kept the baby. Thank you,
that you ran from the Order. Thank you, that you came to my room that night.
Thank you – ”
He kissed Harry on both of his cheeks, taking away his tears, then put an open-
mouthed kiss on Harry’s forehead – on his bolting scar, all the while repeating
in the heated whispers “thank you” a million of times.
Harry was at a loss for words, not knowing how to respond to this tenderness,
coming from this man – he didn’t know anymore, what to call him: enemy? ally?
partner? Should he refer to him as Voldemort? Or just Tom? This was the father
of his children, but what they were to each other? What had they become? And
didn’t he just recently honestly warned Harry that he is unable of sweetness
and kindness? Then why he was so tender and loving all of a sudden?
Harry sighed quietly and shifted in Tom’s arms, his movements careful and
uncertain. He was scared of the abrupt affection the Dark Lord showed him with,
but he was even more afraid of a possible rejection, if he moved wrongly or
said something, which the man deemed inappropriate or unnecessary.
Finally Tom let out a contended sigh and shifted, so that now he was half-
sitting, with his back supported by the headboard, still holding Harry in loose
embrace, with him leaning on Tom’s shoulder. Tom waved his wand towards the
door, opening it, and called out “Algernon!”
The Healer stepped inside carefully and looked at the pair on the bed with
worry.
“My Lord?”
===============================================================================
“You may enter,” the Dark Lord gave one of his trademark regal nods to the
Healer.
“May I congratulate you, my Lord?” the Healer asked with even more caution.
“You may,” Voldemort snorted.
“Then receive my sincere congratulations, my Lords Voldemort, Petite-Mort!”
Algie beamed at them both in turn, his grin wide and genuine, ignoring the Dark
Lord’s snickering. “A brand new miracle to call your own! As new parents may
you be filled with much joy and happiness with the arrival of your new babies.
I wish you and your future children many years of good health, love, and
peace!” Algie bowed to them both with a flourish to his movements. Harry
couldn’t hide his own smile at hearing that, a new flood of emotions
threatening to overwhelm him.
Since the moment he’d learned of his pregnancy that was the first time someone
actually congratulated him sincerely instead of threatening his own life or a
life of an unborn baby. Harry tried to suppress his tears, but they started to
fall down his cheeks all the same. He sniffed miserably, hiding his flushed
face in the shoulder of Tom, who looked down at him surprised.
“Thank you, Algernon,” he said absently, caressing Harry’s shoulder, where his
hand rested in a loose embrace, seemingly at a loss. Raising his head towards
Algie, the Dark lord mouthed: “What do I do?” with discomfiture.
Algie silently moved his hand in the air, as if caressing invisible object,
then shrugged, obviously uncomfortable at teaching his Lord how to show
affection.
The Dark Lord sighed and continued to stroke Harry’s shoulder and back in
awkward gestures.
“Harry, what’s wrong?” he inquired softly.
Harry mumbled something into his shoulder.
“What do you mean by “first”?” Not understanding, clarified Voldemort.
Sniffing, Harry finally showed his face.
“Thank you, Algie. Forgive me, that should be those telltale hormones working,”
he muttered in embarrassment. “It was the first time that someone congratulated
me instead of throwing curses my way,” he explained, still a bit pink in the
face. “And what’s with that “putee-morrh”?” he asked in bewilderment.
Algie grinned, Voldemort snickering again at Harry’s antics.
“That’s French, ‘Petite Mort’,” the Dark Lord corrected him, when he managed to
stop laughing. “You can look it up later.” Still snorting, he nodded to Algie.
“Very fitting, I must admit.”
Algie’s grin turned from uncertain to understanding.
“Well, then. I think, I need to explain the details to you now,” the Healer’s
professional air returned. “Male pregnancies slightly differ from the
traditional ones. One of the more drastic differences is that a baby, or
babies, in your case, literary live off the surrounding magic. Of course, they
also rely on their mother’s condition and strength, but the magic is more vital
for them. Hence such occurrences are rare – only very potent magic can support
a baby in an artificial womb, conjured with the help of both parents’ magic.
The womb itself resembles the extra dimension often used to expand personal
spaces, like tents, or trunks, or purses of wizards, as it is, too, “neither
here, nor there”, so to speak. I will not go into scientific details now, but
you can read this all in the books I will bring on my next visit.
What is important now is that babies will take all the magic they can reach to
survive during pregnancy. So it is vital for both parents to be as close to
each other as possible, especially during first three months. Basically, you
need to be within an arm’s reach of each other at all times through out day and
night. And I am not exaggerating here! We are talking about twins, and during
the first month you were separated, which should have put an enormous strain on
a mother’s magic.
You were suffering from numerous drains of magic all the time, weren’t you,
Harry? Maybe, you regarded it as simple tiredness, as, I understand, you were
on the run. But that was babies feeding off your magic. Also, due to your
overexertion during this month, the babies relied on the pure magic even more,
because they didn’t receive any nutrients through traditional ways. As I’ve
already mentioned, you yourself are suffering from undernourishment and
fatigue, and this also affects your babies.
From now on there shouldn’t be any stress, running, or starvation, do you
understand me?
My Lord, from this moment on Harry should be treated as a fragile crystal vase,
if you want to see your babies’ newborn faces happy and healthy. And you should
not let him out of your hands, almost literary. The more of your powerful magic
the better for the twins. Also I’d advise to have several more powerful wizards
around. Their magic will, too, support your twins.”
“How they get this magic, Algernon? Should I or other wizards around Harry
constantly conjure something or perform spells?”
“No, no, my Lord. The mere presence is enough. Babies are feeding and taking in
only mother’s magic, and this happens without the interference. As if they
drink from the magical aura itself, instead of absorbing the magical flow from
the core of a wizard. The drains I have mentioned are the extreme measure,
occurring only, when the baby don’t get enough nutrients like any baby out
there, with male or female mother.”
“What of the physical activities? You said no running, but – ” inquired the
Dark Lord curiously.
“Oh, I only meant this as in ‘running around in the wild’,” Algie smirked with
understanding. “After couple of days our young Lord would be as good as new, I
hope, so any form of physical activity would only be advantageous.”
“What of – ”
“I mean absolutely any form,” Algie snickered, wriggling his brows
suggestively, then turned serious, “But not before young Lord regains his
strength and health. We are talking about another two-three days here. Well, if
you don’t have anymore questions – ?” he concluded questioningly.
“Harry? Do you have any questions?” Tom asked gently.
Harry shook his head minutely.
“I am good. I would gladly read more, but – ” he trailed off, yawning.
“Perfectly understandable,” Algie nodded. “I can send you the books I’ve
mentioned even before my next visit, so I would be able to explain everything
in more detail and answer any questions you could get after the reading, yes?”
“That would be great,” Harry agreed, smiling at the Healer.
“Then the last advice for today, my Lords. Rest. Both of you. My Lords
Voldemort, Petite Mort,” Algie bowed again and left.
“What do you think of him, hmm?” Tom inquired.
“I like him,” Harry grinned. “He is good. For you, too, I see,” he added,
because the Dark Lord snuggled, shifting lower on the bed at that moment,
intending to sleep, as the Healer advised. Tom covered them both with the
blanket he summoned from the wardrobe, and Harry let himself drift to sleep in
the Dark Lord’s arms peacefully.
===============================================================================
He ran. Twigs scraped his arms. Logs tripped him. Damp leaves under his feet
made him slip several times. He still ran. Darkness slowly engulfed the forest
around him. Now every bush and tree leaped on his path unexpectedly. He
continued his mad running despite all that. He needed to put as much distance
between his pursuers as possible while he still could. Another hour or so,
before his legs give under him and he would crawl in some hole to get much
needed sleep. Though that, too, was restless. His always ended up waking after
couple of hours of nightmares full of torture and returned back on his track.
===============================================================================
Harry was roughly yanked from his nightmare because of a loud noise. He didn’t
understand at first what woke him, but when he heard a soft whimper beside him,
the sound turning to a more obvious sob, he remembered that there should be
another man in the bed with him. They were not snuggling together anymore, but
Harry felt the other’s breath on his own neck. The face of the Dark Lord was
pressed into his shoulder and he was clutching Harry’s arm almost painfully.
The Dark Lord shifted restlessly in his sleep, another small cry emerging from
his throat.
Harry reached to him, but caught himself in mid-motion. He doubted that the
Dark Lord would be overjoyed that someone witnessed his weakness. He surely
would react first and think later, and with his tendency to give out Cruciatus
left and right like cookies, the situation could become very ugly rather
quickly.
Harry was still contemplating whether he should wake Voldemort or leave him
fight his demons. While he was half-sitting in an awkward position with his
hand outstretched over the trembling form, Tom let out another gasp and sat up
abruptly, hitting Harry in the nose with the top of his head and almost
knocking him from the bed.
Harry jerked back with a yelp, covering his nose with his palm.
Tom let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up, then noticed that
something was wrong.
“Harry?” he asked carefully. “Did I – ?”
“Nah! It’s my fault!” Harry dismissed him, speaking through his nose. “I
shouldn’t – ”
“Let me see,” Tom gently pried Harry’s hand away from his face. “You’re
bleeding,” he tried for the light tone, but failed, thick worry lacing his
voice.
“That’s just a nosebleed,” Harry protested weakly, but Tom would have none of
it.
“Allow me to be the judge of that,” Tom retrieved his wand from a nightstand
and gingerly trailed Harry’s profile with its tip, his hand slightly quivering.
“You’re still recovering, but I – ” he trailed off.
“You had a nightmare,” Harry deadpanned. “I was just – ”
“Be quiet,” Voldemort grumbled clearly uncomfortable. “Or I’ll make a mistake
and get you a Snape’s hooked nose.”
Harry tried to snort.
“Merlin, boy, sit still!” growled Voldemort. “Broken nose is not a joke!”
“Don’t make me laugh then,” Harry droned on.
“Shut up.”
“Are you done yet?” Harry asked after a while.
Tom’s hand jerked. Harry hissed, feeling a pang of pain in his nose.
“Sorry. Don’t talk, you distract me.” Tom’s voice didn’t held any remorse.
Several minutes later Harry chirped again:
“How much longer?”
Tom swore under his breath, again loosing his concentration.
“What are you, three?”
“Five,” Harry giggled, but was cut off by another pang of pain.
“Fuck! Err – Sorry. Don’t breathe through you nose yet.”
“Okay!”
“And Do. Not. Talk!”
“Right.”
“Argh! Can’t you be still for a minute?!”
Harry nodded and immediately let out a soft cry of pain, ending in gasp: Tom
took him by the throat to keep his head in place so that his wand won’t go up
Harry’s nose and do any more damage. His grip was not tight enough to
suffocate, but still quite forceful.
“Here, you’re all good,” after five long minutes the Dark Lord put away his
wand at last.
Harry brought his hand to his throat. He was certain, later he would get
bruises on his neck, where the Dark Lord’s fingers were just a moment ago.
“Was it necessary?” Harry rasped.
Tom had a decency to blush slightly.
“I am not going to entrust your health to my incompetent men. And Algernon must
have left for St. Mungo’s several hours ago.”
“And now you demonstrated just how competent you are,” Harry grumbled, his
voice still a bit wheezily.
“You distracted me,” Tom responded grumpily.
“A bad workman always blames his tools?” Harry teased.
Tom’s lips twitched in an attempt to conceal his smile.
“Trust you to speak to the Dark Lord in Muggle cliches,” he snickered. “How are
you feeling? Aside from your nose, I mean.”
“Fifty-fifty.” Harry put his tongue out teasingly.
The Dark Lord shook his head in amusement.
“Would you kindly elaborate?”
“I’m still tired, and I hadn’t slept too well, but otherwise I am all right,”
Harry responded.
“Nightmares?” Voldemort inquired in a strange tone.
Harry shrugged.
“You could call it that. I dreamed of my running through the woods – ”
The Dark Lord’s eyes glinted in surprise.
“Dark evening, pine forest, right?” he slowly clarified. “There should have
been a rain before – The trees and ground were damp – ”
“How do you – ? Oh, wait! The connection!” Harry was shocked. “I didn’t know it
worked both ways!”
Voldemort shrugged dismissively. Then inquired with genuine curiosity:
“Was it always like that?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were – ” Tom tried to find the words, “frightened?”
“You saw it through my eyes?” Harry asked quietly. When Tom nodded silently, he
replied, “Then you know yourself. I was terrified. Sometimes I didn’t have
enough strength left even to breathe but still had to run for my life. For our
life.” He put his hand on his still flat stomach. “Other times I thought I’d
surely die from hunger, thirst or pain. But this kept me going,” he lowered his
eyes, looking at his hand, which now was covered by Tom’s slightly twitching
palm. Raising his head he looked into red gleaming eyes. “You know, I was
almost glad, when you finally came to get me. I thought that it would finally
be over for both me and the baby. Babies.” Smitten, he shook his head. “I knew
I shouldn’t have hoped that the fearful Dark Lord Voldemort could accept – ”
Soft warm lips touched Harry’s own, successfully cutting him off. The kiss was
chaste, but red eyes, glistening with a flood of emotions, locking with Harry’s
tear-filled gaze, promised to lay all the world at his feet.
***** V *****
Chapter by Ellia_Bronsky_(Ellia_Bronsky), Ellia_Bronsky
Chapter Notes
     It seems, I chose the wrong time to post new chapters, exactly when
     AO3 had some issues XD
     Due to this I managed to double-post Chapter IV. Thanks to Phoenix
     Black I found this and fixed it.
     But as a result and as clumsly as I am, managed to delete that one
     double, where there had been some coments already left, instead of
     the other one >.<
     I am afwully sorry, and, please, don't think it was intentional! I am
     just inattentive as that >.<
     Thanks to all of your comments, I am really glad to see them each
     time (I even re-read some of them XD).
     =====================================================================
Half hour later Tom was still holding Harry in a one-handed embrace, the
fingers of his free hand tracing lazy patterns on Harry’s neck, erasing the
possible bruises from earlier, Tom’s soft full lips leaving wet trail along
Harry’s jaw-line upwards, to his cheekbones and creased brows.
“Does something bother you?” Tom murmured. “You’re frowning.” He kissed away
the light wrinkles, which appeared at Harry’s forehead.
“What’s got into you?” Harry asked, fidgeting in his arms. This lazy caresses
surprised and made him slightly nervous, reminding him of his first encounter
with a drunken sex-driven Dark Lord.
“You don’t like it,” Tom said in questioning and frustrated tone, ceasing his
movements and going almost completely still, gripping Harry’s shoulders with
enough force that it certainly would leave more bruises.
“It’s not that I don’t – ” Harry squirmed, trying to ease Tom’s grip on him.
“B-but – ”
“That’s all right,” Tom sighed and released him. “My apologies. I should not
have pressed on.” He moved away from Harry and stood up. “I just got carried
away.” He lowered his gaze, stepping from the bed, two rose spots appearing on
his high cheekbones along with two cute dimples below them, though all these
disappeared almost instantly, making Harry wonder whether he imagined the scary
Dark Lord going all girly-shy on him.
Before Harry could stop him, Tom went for the door.
“Wait! Where – ?” Harry held out his hand towards the retreating Dark Lord. “ –
Are you going?” the end of Harry’s question was cut off by the door, which
closed behind Voldemort.
===============================================================================
After the Dark Lord left, Harry tried to sleep some more. Unfortunately, all
traces of sleep seemed to have left with Tom, so Harry only managed to slumber
for about half hour, restlessly turning from one side to the other in an
attempt to make himself comfortable. At last he sat up with a sigh of defeat
and grabbed a book left by Voldemort on the night stand. Alas, it turned out
that the book was written in some illegible language, so Harry put it aside
with another sigh of disappointment. Then he tried to simply stare out of the
window, but there was nothing there that could hold his interest.
At that moment there was a tentative knock at the door. Surprised, Harry called
out an invitation to enter. Who could that be? It was unlikely that Voldemort
would be knocking on the door to his own bedroom. Or to any room, as he
probably didn’t know how to knock at all, Harry thought with a quiet snicker.
The door opened to reveal a man holding a tray laded with food, with a kettle
floating beside his elbow.
An unnamed Death Eater put the tray and kettle on a night stand near Harry and
left without a word.
Shaking his head in bewilderment, Harry set to eat.
After he finished his meal another unnamed Death Eater came in to retrieve the
empty plates and left him several vials of potions with a small note attached
to one of them. It was an instruction on the order he should take his medicine
in, written in a familiar scrawl of the Potions Master.
It seemed Voldemort was not going to grace Harry with his presence. Despite
everything the Healer said about them needing to be in a very close proximity
to each other. Despite everything the Dark Lord himself said earlier: that he
was ready to put aside the differences, that he was going to provide both for
the babies and the mother, too. Despite just recent talk they had and those
emotions Harry saw in his eyes, promising him all the world.
Frustrated, Harry tried to sleep again.
Another restless hour later he heard the knock on the door once more.
“Enter!” he urged.
The familiar blond head carefully peaked in.
“Potter, are you decent?”
“You may as well come in, Malfoy,” Harry nodded in encouragement. “I don’t have
anything to do either way.”
Malfoy entered very carefully, looking around as if waiting for the Dark Lord
to jump at him out of the corner.
“Don’t worry, there’s no one here except for me,” Harry snorted. “You don’t
think I’d be bored if the Dark Lord was here?”
Malfoy’s cheeks turned pink at the implication.
“So it is true then?” he asked gingerly. “You and the Dark Lord – ”
Harry shrugged.
“Depends on what you mean by ‘me and him’. You fatherhood spell was correct, as
was Snape’s diagnostic ones,” Harry responded. “Though, if you mean anything
aside from us being a parents of an accidentally conceived baby, I can’t say
there is something else. He’d be here, if it was true,” Harry grumbled in
frustration.
Lucius shook his head in surprise.
“So you are indeed pregnant. A rare occurrence, even for a Wizarding world, I
must say. I have heard about maybe two or three cases during my whole life, and
dare I say I have seen my fare share of years.”
“Then you mast have gone to school at the same time with my parents!” Harry
exclaimed, curious. He was meaning to ask this for a while now, especially when
he heard that strange remark about their supposed relationship with Snape from
Voldemort’s lips.
Lucius shook his head.
“Not quite. I was almost out of Hogwarts when Severus went for his first year,
and he was rather close, as far as I know, to your mother,” Malfoy recalled
with a careful expression on his pointed face.
“Snape was – Snape was a friend of my mother?!” Harry sputtered. “Bloody hell!”
Malfoy smirked, seemingly pleased with Harry’s reaction.
“They were friends even before Hogwarts, I heard.”
“No way!” Harry exclaimed in shock. “That’s the reason! I never understood why
– ” he trailed off, suddenly scrunching his face in distress.
“Potter! Are you going to cry on me again?!” Malfoy inquired vehemently.
Harry rubbed at his eyes and looked up at Malfoy.
“Did you escaped to the other country while your wife was pregnant with Draco?”
Harry raised an inquiring brow. “That’s called hormones.” He smirked.
It seemed, Lucius wanted to roll his eyes, if not for his upbringing.
“I was indeed abroad for the most part of Narcissa’s pregnancy,” he confessed.
“But I know quite well what you are referring to. Narci was not the only
pregnant woman I encountered,” he elaborated. “What makes you want to cry,
though, I have no idea.”
Harry briefly squirmed his eyes shut, trying to stall his tears, and sighed.
“I’d rather we not talk about my parents. Better tell me why did you send me
here that time?”
“What do you mean?”
“The first time I was here, or, well, in the dungeon. Wormtail came to take me
up here for a bath and a meal. He’d said it was your idea. And Voldemort said
it was your gift, the bottle of wine – ” trailing off, Harry squinted his eyes
in suspicion.
Malfoy attained an innocent look.
“It is true, I suggested to Pettigrew to take you for a bath. The rest was a
mere coincidence, I assure you.”
“Why here then? Or does this mansion holds only one bathroom?” Harry smirked in
disbelief.
“As laughable as it may sound, you are almost correct. There is only one room
with adjacent bathroom inside. There are my own chambers, as well as Severus’
rooms, too, of course, but at that time this was the only available option. As
far as I remember, that day Sev was here, brewing some of his complicated
concoctions requiring his constant attention, thus he could not leave his rooms
or lend them to a prisoner in need of a bath. As for the other set of rooms, my
Lord requires my presence during some Rituals, like it was that day, for
instance, and sometimes these Rituals need a very thorough preparations of both
the body and mind. So my rooms were occupied as well. This room, on the
contrary, was free, as my Lord was spending hours prior to the Ritual in his
private library, reading something pertaining to the magic it required.”
“You thought this rather thoroughly, no?” Harry voiced his lingering
suspicions. “It was a month ago and yet you remember very well, who did what
where.” His brow was raising even more now. “And what about that wine you
gifted to your Lord, hmm?”
Lucius shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to imply. That wine was a souvenir I
brought from abroad and as it was of a splendid vintage I decided to share the
fine taste with my Lord.”
Harry’s smirk widened.
“Do you know those Rituals are quite inebriating in themselves? The additional
alcohol is not necessary,” Harry drawled. “If you participated before, you
should know this as well.”
Lucius nodded.
“Naturally. It was never my intention – ”
Harry laughed.
“Don’t give me that. I think you did this on purpose. Though, what is this
purpose that’s what I’d like to know. And where you really got that wine.”
Harry deadpanned.
Malfoy blanched, perspiration appearing above his brow. He shook his head.
“I don’t – ”
“What, do you think, the Dark Lord would do if he learns you tried to poison
him?” Harry inquired suavely, sliding from the bed and stalking to Malfoy
slowly.
Lucius became white as death and recoiled from him, gulping loudly.
“P-potter, you wouldn’t – ”
Harry’s smirk started to resemble a crocodile’s.
“My slippery friend,” he purred, remembering Voldemort’s nickname for Malfoy,
“I won’t guarantee you anything, but I might try to put in a word for you. If
only you would tell me everything. And do not lie to me, Malfoy. I may not be a
mind-reading genius, but you’d dig your own grave with your lies, as they
certainly would be brought to light by the Dark Lord. I do not wish to be a
part of this, because he definitely would blame me, too, just for company’s
sake.”
“What are you doing in Griffindor?” Lucius tried to stall the inevitable.
“Don’t change the subject! I might have done good in Slytherin, too, the Hat
had said,” Harry admitted. “So who put you to it? You don’t strike me as a
person to do something as foolish by yourself,” he mused. “Was it – ?”
“Dumbledore,” Lucius grumbled. “Though, I have you know, I fully intended to
use it to my own advantage in the end.”
“Care to explain?”
“The wine was laced with some potion, but I don’t have the knowledge of what it
was. The Headmaster said it will weaken the Dark Lord. I assume he hoped that
you would use this opportunity – ”
Harry laughed loudly, shaking his head in bewilderment.
“So he knew I was here, did he?”
Malfoy shrugged in discomfort.
“I suppose. He suggested I try to get you both alone after my Lord consumed the
wine.”
“And what were you planning to do after I supposedly kill him? Take his place?”
Harry asked with curiosity. “And Dumbledore? Was he hoping you would dismiss
the Dark order, ending the war?”
“I have no idea. I am not utterly certain what should have happened to the Dark
Lord, either. Maybe Dumbledore just tried to give you a chance to break free –
”
Harry snorted.
“No way. When I did broke free he tried to make me to abort the – the babies.”
Harry let out a nervous breath. “I think he knew from the very start that I was
here. Who knows, maybe he even anticipated something akin to what really
happened.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to think of it. But back to the
topic. What were you planning for later? You haven’t told yet.”
Lucius showed his teeth in a crocodile’s smirk of his own.
“You think I’d tell this to a hormonal pregnant teenager who, I might add, does
not even have his wand?” He snickered.
Harry smiled as a lazy cat at that.
“Why are you so sure I don’t? And even if it is so, who said I don’t have any
other means – ? You’re so certain, I am no threat just because I don’t poke you
in your pointed face with a wooden stick?” Harry raised a brow in surprise.
“Never thought I might know wandless spells or simply tell the Dark Lord – ?
Oh, wait, I don’t even need to tell him anything, he may simply see into my
mind,” Harry’s eyes glinted devilishly, taking a slight red tint to them thanks
to that same wandless magic he just reminded Lucius of.
Malfoy shuddered. But still stood his ground.
“I am not telling you any more, brat. If Voldemort truly wishes to draw the
information from me he would rather Crucio me himself then rely on your non-
existent manipulative skills anyway.”
Harry suddenly shrugged and returned to bed, as if tired.
“You can say what you like, Lucius. For now. I didn’t joke about the Hat
wanting me in Slytherin, though. So you might want to remember that. This way
you may be less surprised later,” he waved his hand in dismissal, suddenly
reminding Malfoy of the regal manners his Lord usually showed. “You may leave.
I think I would finally be able to sleep now.”
===============================================================================
After Lucius left Harry really fell asleep rather peacefully. He was awoken by
a sudden quiet knock on the door again.
“Come in!”
Yet another faceless Death Eater brought him a new portion of food and potions,
this time without a note from Snape.
Before Harry could inquire about it, the Potion Master intruded upon his meal
unceremoniously.
“Potter! I think I made it clear the first time! You are to drink these two
potions with your meal and these three after – ”
“Professor! That’s not my fault they are too stupid to bring everything in the
right order,” Harry exclaimed indignantly. “You could have come yourself at
lunch, you know. Just to supervise them.” Harry grumbled. “Instead of sending a
stupid note.”
Snape rolled his eyes at him.
“I don’t have so much free time, Potter,” he drawled. “Eat and drink your
potions, I’ll make sure next time they won’t confuse anything.”
Harry sighed and quickly finished his supper, washing it down with some juice
before he dawned his share fare of potions, squinting his eyes at the foul
taste of some of them.
“Have you ever tried to add something for the potions to taste better?” Harry
asked with curiosity.
Snape’s brow rose in surprise.
“What do I hear? Potter is interested in Potions?”
“I don’t know what else to talk to you about,” Harry deflated. “We can sit in
silence, if you wish. As far as I understand you are here as a magical
supporter for the babies, aren’t you? So he didn’t completely forgot about me?”
at the end of his short speech Harry was almost whispering.
“Potter, he may be angry – at you, or more likely at himself – but he certainly
remembers that you’re bearing his child. Of course, he had sent me here!”
“Children. They are twins,” Harry corrected him, some of his good mood
returning and his eyes glistening with mirth. “Imagine somebody like Wheasley
twins, but with me and the Dark Lord as parents!” Harry grinned.
Snape shuddered.
“I fear for Hogwarts’ safety then,” involuntary smile threatening to appear on
his lips, admitted vile Potions Master. “Your impishness with our Lord’s thrive
for knowledge and love for Dark Arts – Hogwarts, no, the whole world has no
chances,” he smirked.
“True. They’ll never know what hit them!” Harry laughed. “Want to see it?”
“Hmm?”
“The Scroll,” Harry’s pronunciation clearly implied that the word should be
written with capital letter because of its importance. “The Healer gave it to
us. It states the fatherhood details and babies vitals.”
Before Snape could refuse, Harry fished the Scroll from a drawer of one of the
night stands and produced it to the strict professor with a shrug.
“I don’t know why, but I feel the need to show it to you,” with a hint of
embarrassment admitted Harry. “Oh, and Lucius said you were – ” he gulped, his
face, which was previously lit with excitement, falling. “He said you were
friends with my mother,” Harry finished quietly, lowering his head and hiding
his tearful eyes behind his fringe.
“It is true,” Snape sighed, a strange emotion in his voice. “That was,
probably, the reason why all this time I – ” he shook his head in defeat. “I
don’t think this discussion is fitting for today. You are probably tired and –
”
“What I am is bored out of my mind!” Harry exclaimed. “And I, too, don’t want
to spoil the moment thinking of my parents, who were killed by a father of my
children,” he let out a strained sob, trying not to cry in front of his old
professor. “I just – ”
“Take this,” Snape held out a tiny vial with some strange rose-colored cloud-
like substance. “It is not drinkable, you need to open it and sniff a bit of
smell in. That’s a mild Calming Draught in vaporized state, the Calming
Breath.”
“Thanks,” Harry let out a shaky breath, then proceeded to do as he was told.
Slightly minty and cool smell with a hint of cinnamon and vanilla engulfed his
senses, instantly calming his hysteria. “Thank you,” Harry repeated, returning
the vial.
“Keep it. I suspect it would be handy more than once in the months to come,”
Snape said with a wry smile.
Harry nodded and placed the vial onto the night-stand beside him.
With a slight hint of curiosity Snape looked into the Scroll, which laid
forgotten on the edge of a bed. Shaking his head he raised his gaze at Harry.
“I have heard of male pregnancies couple of times, but this is even more rare.
Twins. You should not strain yourself, just rest while you still can.”
“I know,” Harry sighed. “I just hope Voldemort would remember this too. He took
some nonsense in his head and left. I haven’t seen him from this morning. Is he
even in the mansion?”
“I don’t stalk my Lord, Potter.” Snape sneered. “He might have stepped out this
morning for all I care, he doesn’t report to me. Or he maybe down in the
dungeons torturing someone. There are numerous things he could do in and out of
mansion.”
Harry raised his hands in surrender.
“I got it! Don’t you start on me! Or did Lucius complained?” Harry let out a
snigger, imagining that picture, but quickly shook his head, trying to erase
the visuals his mind produced as a continuation of their talk. He didn’t need
this just an hour before his sleep!
“I haven’t seen him from yesterday,” Snape grumbled. “Why?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. You can ask him yourself,” Harry dismissed the topic
lightly. Then took the Scroll out of Snape’s hand. “By the way, did you find
anything unusual there?” He shook the Scroll in the air. “I mean medically –
Hell! Scientifically, I guess.”
Snape hummed in thought.
“Give it here,” he took the parchment and re-read it again. Then shook his
head, “No, nothing’s out of the ordinary here. Aside from there being two of
them, of course. You can rest assured, twins are healthy, despite everything
you endured.”
Harry nodded and climbed to bed.
“I wonder, do you need to stay with me the whole night? Or this hour was enough
for them to take their portion of magic?” Harry mumbled sleepily.
“I will sit here for a while more, but you can sleep. One of the evening
potions contains sedatives, I am surprised you didn’t fall asleep earlier.”
“Too much stress,” Harry muttered half-asleep. “Thanks for coming,” the next
second he was snoring quietly.
===============================================================================
Harry didn’t know how long Snape had stayed with him after he fell asleep, but
when the morning came he was alone again. After a while a knock at the door
announced the arrival of his breakfast.
This time there were two Death Eaters, one with a tray of food, and another
with a tray of potion vials in hands and a stack of books floating near him.
The books turned out to be from the Healer Algie, as he’d promised. In addition
the stack contained several potion texts and textbooks on Runes, Arithmancy and
Advanced Transfiguration.
It seemed Snape has took to heart his claim of being bored and took the liberty
to provide Harry with some distraction. Or a good means to fall asleep quickly.
Grinning, Harry set to eat and took his potions, proceeding to read afterwards.
After lunch, which was brought by another silent Death Eater with no name to
him, Snape came again. They talked, mostly about the things Harry had read:
Potions, medical texts about pregnancy in general and journals on male
pregnancy, not speaking about Harry’s parents again, or about Voldemort.
Several days had passed in similar fashion: Harry slept, read, ate and took his
potions, conversed with Snape, slowly warming up to him and making him in turn
see a person and not a reflection of a bully from his childhood. They didn’t
returned to the topic of Harry’s parents anymore, but Harry fished for small
things Snape could tell him about his mother, when he sensed the good mood of
the sour professor.
Lucius came as well, though his clear reluctance was obvious at first. They
talked, too. Harry tried to drag the information about his supposed betrayal
out of the blond, but Malfoy kept quiet about it. What he did talk, though, was
the topics of male pregnancy, pureblood traditions and relations pertaining to
it and his relationship with Snape, which Voldemort implied before. Or rather,
Harry fished for juicy details, but Lucius was tight-lipped about them,
elaborating very little. It turned out Snape and Malfoy got together when both
were already in Voldemort’s troops, after Snape’s graduation. So he couldn’t
tell Harry very much about his mother – they were, after all, on the opposite
sides of the barricades. They talked a bit about Draco, too. Harry learned that
it was Lucius plan for Draco to befriend him, so when he declined the
outstretched hand of the blond offspring, Lucius was enraged. That could have
led to Draco’s unhealthy animosity, Harry mused. If he saw Harry as a reason
for his father’s anger, that would explain why he was so vile.
On the second day of his loneliness, Harry had got an unexpected visitor.
===============================================================================
The knock at the door announced the arrival of his evening company. Harry
expected this to be either Snape or Malfoy, though he’d seen the later just
couple of hours before, but there wasn’t a specific schedule to their shifts.
When he urged the guest to enter, the door slowly and carefully opened,
revealing a seemingly young wide-eyed man with a familiar face and name.
“May I?” The visitor asked tentatively. “I was told you require some company –
”
“Please, come in!” Harry was cheerful this morning because he felt better
physically and his hard feelings for Volemort were put to the back of his mind,
almost forgotten.
“Barty Crouch Jr! It is a surprise. I thought you were either given a
Dementor’s Kiss or simply killed after the Tri-wizard Tournament.” Harry raised
his brows. “How come?”
Barty smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously.
“Our Lord has many talents, Potter. By the way, care to explain, why are you in
his private chambers, swarming in luxury instead of suffering chained to the
wall of the dungeon?” Barty asked with curiosity.
“Oh, you don’t know?” Harry was surprised. He assumed Barty was sent here by
Voldemort to replace his Leutenant and Potions Master as a magical supporter
for Harry’s babies. So why didn’t Voldemort explain this? Or he preferred to
simply issue unquestionable orders? Why he’s surprised with the foolishness and
incompetency of his people then?
“What should I know? Beside you not being in your right place?” Barty snorted.
“I am where I should be. If voldemort deemed you not worthy of the information,
then so be it,” Harry snickered. “You can, of course, try to puzzle it out
yourself, I won’t interfere,” Harry looked at Barty with obvious challenge in
his gaze. “I am too bored, you know. So feel free to solve this riddle,” at
this Harry giggled.
Barty looked at him in amusement.
“What’s so funny?”
“Ah, that’s a private joke,” Harry smirked. “Don’t mind. Better tell me where
have you been since the Tournament? It should be at least somewhat less boring
than my books.” While he was speaking, Harry carefully rearranged the stack at
the night stand so that the titles won’t be on display. It won’t do if Barty
puzzled it all just from the book titles. Too easy. And Harry was itching for
some action, or at least amusement.
===============================================================================
Barty puzzled it out only on his second visit on a fourth day of Harry’s lone
stay at Voldemort’s chambers.
And this time, like the previous one, they talked mostly about unimportant
matters: Quidditch, Hogwarts, favorite types of ice-cream for both of them,
their shared animosity towards Dumbledore with his lemon drops and twinkling
eyes.
They talked about different branches of magic – Light, Dark and almost non-
existent Gray, Harry insisting that he physically sensed the difference between
spells and Barty protesting that normal wizards could not feel the magic while
it was performed. Of course, if they were on the receiving end of these spells
that was the other matter entirely.
“I didn’t notice this before, too, you know. But now for some reason I can feel
– For instance, Lucius’ magic is like old wool blanket, it stings and
suffocates me. Snape’s is constantly changing, one moment it stings, too, but
in the next – it is similar to a lukewarm waterfall.”
“What about mine?” Barty inquired.
“Don’t know, haven’t felt yet. Let’s try it!” Harry winked at Barty, who
nervously licked his lips.
“Are you sure – ? My Lord – ”
“Is not here. I am. And I tell you can safely try something non-offending on
me, like a cleaning spell, for example,” Harry smiled encouragingly.
Barty raised his wand uncertain. Harry nodded.
“Any moment now.”
“R-right.” Barty uttered a cleaning spell, managing not to stutter too much in
the process.
Harry felt a scalding hot air dawning on him, making him gasp in surprise. The
sensation was not too unpleasant, but enough to make him sway on his feet
lightly.
“Potter, what – ?”
“I – I am alright,” Harry breathed out, stumbling to the bed and carefully
sitting on the edge. “Just don’t do any more spells for a while, please.”
“You’re – ”
“That was my own fault,” Harry gave out a strained smile. “I’ll sit for a bit,
I think,” but after a couple of seconds he darted to the bathroom, not able to
hold his latest meal down after feeling the other’s magic.
When he returned, rubbing his mouth on his sleeve, Barty came up to him with a
worry.
“What did I do?”
Harry shook his head and laid down on the bed.
“It was truly my fault. No more experimenting, I guess.” He sighed. “Your magic
is hot like a desert air.” He smirked. “You’ve seen the aftereffects, so
believe me, it is true, I can feel the magic. And you owe me three Sickles,” he
smirked.
Barty produced the coins from his pouch, shaking his head in amusement.
“How can you be cheerful after you just – ?”
“I am getting used to it already,” Harry snickered. “Throwing up at random
times, I mean.”
“So that’s true then?”
“What’s true?”
“You are pre – pregnant?” Barty asked tentatively.
“Or I could be avert to your magic,” Harry snorted. “Allergic, you know.” He
giggled. “So I am getting used to throwing up from the feeling of it, when you
visit.”
Barty nervously jerked his head.
“How can you joke about it – ?”
“What, you don’t see the humor in that? A Savior pregnant with a Dark Lord’s
spawn! That’s so funny!” Despite his words Harry’s mood turned sarcastic.
“Either I will joke about it or go bonkers. I don’t think you lot – you, Snape
or Lucius – would like me going completely nutters here, or would you?” He
scrunched his face and drawn the vial with the Calming Breath from his pocket
in a familiar gesture. “It doesn’t help matters, that the fucking father of my
spawn is wandering somewhere else, when he should be here with his bloody
magic,” Harry took a shuddering breath of potion, but his hysteria was too
forceful this time, so he made several gulps of air laced with potion’ smell.
“Better now? I apologize for setting you off.” Barty mumbled, making a slight
bow. This reminded Harry of something.
“Say, do you, per any chance, know French?” he inquired.
“Unfortunately, no. But I can bring someone who knows, if necessary,” Barty
suggested. “Why?”
“There is this word I’d like to look up. Well, you could simply find me a
vocabulary. No need to bring anyone in here just for this.” Harry responded.
“Or I can just ask Lucius,” his smirk returned with full force.
“Do you have some dirt on Malfoy or what?” Barty asked in curiosity.
“You have no idea!” Harry snorted with secretive smile, shaking his head.
===============================================================================
The next time Lucius came to visit him, Harry remembered about the French word
he was curious about.
“Hey, Lucius, do you know French?”
“Naturally,” Malfoy inclined his head.
“What is this word, then? It kind of rhymes with Voldemort, sounding something
like “putty-morhu”. What could it be?”
Lucius shrugged.
“With your pronunciation it could be anything,” he snorted. “If you say it
rhymes with our Lord, then could it be something like ‘Petite Mort’?”
“Yeah, I think so! What it means?”
“Small Death,” Lucius deadpanned.
Harry blinked.
“Then I don’t get why they were both laughing,” he trailed off.
“Who?”
“Voldemort and Algie. He called me that. And they giggled like school-girls at
what it implied,” Harry mused in bewilderment.
Lucius shook his head, trying to dismiss the images of his Lord in the role of
a school girl, giggling at some stupid word.
“What did you talk about? Maybe it was something else?”
“Nah! Voldemort said it fits. So it must be this French word.”
“Can you elaborate? I can’t guess when there is no context!” Lucius grumbled
annoyed.
“Algie officially congratulated me and called our titles, I guess. Something
like ‘ my Lords Voldemort, Petite-Mort’. And Voldemort replied that it fits.”
Harry shrugged.
Lucius let out a snigger.
Harry raised a brow.
Lucius wriggled his eyebrows.
Harry pointed an accusing finger at him. “Algie did the same!”
“I am not surprised.”
“And – ?” Harry urged.
“Have you ever heard of a saying ‘An orgasm is a small death’?” Lucius asked
him. “And that’s from France, too, by the way,” he smirked.
Harry spluttered.
“Old perverts, all of you!”
“And you’re a hormonal teenager, are you not? So what of it?” Lucius smirked.
“They say men’s mind is full of thoughts of sex, the rest topics take maybe
tenth of the brain.”
Harry waved a hand in an air.
“I don’t want to know!” he groaned. “Don’t give me these images!”
Lucius smiled nastily.
“You shouldn’t have conjured them.”
===============================================================================
That evening Snape again make his customary visit to Harry.
“Did you take your potions for the night?” he inquired.
Harry nodded tiredly.
“I was thinking you should really invent something to make them taste better,”
he grumbled. “It is only harder each time to hold them down and not throw up,
you know.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” the Potions Master pursed his lips. “How are you
feeling? Healer Algie should come tomorrow or the day after, I think.”
“I’m feeling like an old mop twirled too many times,” Harry admitted, slumping
on a bed. “And I have a splitting headache from the day before yesterday, I
think.”
“Why didn’t you feel the need to tell this before?” Snape sneered. “I could
have brought something – ”
“I don’t think you know how to brew anything for the Dark Lord’s wrath? Because
that’s what causes it,” Harry spat. “Until he stops being angry I suspect there
is nothing anyone can do,” he grumbled. “And I don’t even know what I did!”
“Maybe, it’s not your fault,” supplied Snape. “His people are making stupid
mistakes all the time, of course he would be angry. I’ve seen him just
yesterday evening at a meeting. Fifteen rounds of Crucio. So you can imagine –
”
“I don’t need to imagine,” Harry sneered. “I saw it all. Vomited all over the
place, too. Scared poor Barty shitless, I am afraid.” He rubbed his face. “He
could have at least listen to them before torturing.”
“They don’t do well otherwise anymore. They are too used to this,” Snape
sighed. “I could try to talk to him – ”
Harry shook his head.
“Please, don’t. He’d only curse you, too. I’d ask Lucius,” he showed his teeth
in unhealthy smile. “But I fear he won’t listen to him either and kill the man
on the spot. I am surprised, actually – ” He trailed off abruptly with a heavy
sigh and slumped on the bed more, almost laying on it. “Another meeting?” Harry
groaned weakly, before collapsing lifelessly on the bed.
“Potter!” he didn’t hear Snape’s worried exclamation.
***** VI *****
Chapter by Ellia_Bronsky_(Ellia_Bronsky), Ellia_Bronsky
Chapter Summary
     I advise you to remember the rating of this fanfic before reading.
     Some expliciteness and non-con are appearing in this chapter!
Chapter Notes
     Please, mind this brief note: I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to
     keep up with this high pace of writing as it was just recently, at
     least for two-three upcoming weeks: I’ve a work to translate and my
     mother comes from another town to visit (more like a lengthy holiday,
     before my parents’ trip in mid August). So I am posting this chap
     now, and you can _probably_ expect one more chapter before my
     unexpected break (either on Saturday, or early next week). Depends
     whether I’d feel the need to change or add to it (I’m currently
     somewhere in the middle of Ch. VIII in terms of writing, 18-07-2017).
     On a side, I’ve gone through the previously posted chapters,
     correcting small things like grammar, or punctuation, etc. Just a bit
     of cosmetic renovation of sorts, nothing different plot-wise or
     critical. And as I’d complained already on twitter, “What d'ya know
     of torture? Try to edit an NC scene in your fanfic and then add
     coding to it, re-reading not once, but numerous times! (>_<)”
     Thank you, everyone, million times for your favs, follows and cool
     comments. I’d like to answer each & everyone of you personally, but
     then there will be another page of my thanks. Much love & gratitude
     to you all!
     =====================================================================
He was finishing the tea when someone barged through the door. The intruder
didn’t notice him at first, stumbling to the bed and shedding his clothes on
his way. Either this man was wounded or drunk, he thought. A stranger collapsed
on the bed with a tired moan.
Quietly and slowly putting his cup on the table, he glanced at the front door,
then at the bathroom door, trying to decide which route was safer. He had about
an hour more, before he would be taken to the dungeons. The corridors are
supposedly full of Death Eaters. He was carefully retreating towards the
bathroom, as its door was slightly open, and he hoped to slip in there
unnoticed. The front door closed with loud click when the stranger came in, so
he was afraid that it was locked.
Unfortunately, just as he made another careful step away from the bed, the
stranger raised his head up.
“Who’s there?” he slurred incoherently.
Definitely drunk. He thought he could even smell the wine odor coming from the
visitor.
He made yet another step, not daring to turn his back to the stranger on the
bed.
The man sat up with some difficulty and turned to him, narrowing his eyes as if
he could not see clearly. It was not surprising, as the only light in the room
came from the window, but the sun had set already and most of the room was
covered in shadows.
The man on the bed snorted derisively, then smirked like a cat seeing a cup
full of cream and in one swift and fluid motion, surprising for his drunken
state, came on him.
They wrestled for a while, he tried to break free and dash to the bathroom, the
drunkard, on the other hand, tried to drag him to bed. The fight was silent –
he was afraid to attract attention of the people who can be outside, and the
drunk man put all his efforts into seizing him, so he only grunted now and
then, when the other’s elbow connected with his abdomen or his foot came to the
drunkard’s knee in a futile attempt to dislodge it.
Their fight ended rather quick with him being too weak to resist for long and
finally they both fell onto the bed. The man quickly pinned him to the mattress
with his body and with a low growl thrust his hips forward in an obvious
gesture.
Terrified, he tried to throw a man off, but the remains of his energy were not
enough – despite being totally drunk the man appeared to have enough power to
easily hold him and simultaneously strip him of his robe, all the while trying
to either bite or kiss his lips, jaw and neck.
All his resistance, however, ended when the man, tired of his violent fighting
turned him on his stomach and once again pressed him into the bed with his
body.
When he felt fingers touching his anus he writhed and cried out, but his cry
was muffled by the pillow – the drunkard managed to push his head down with his
other hand before grabbing his wrists again so that he would cease his attempts
to hit the other man blindly.
Nevertheless he was thankful for this small mercy: the stranger scissored his
fingers inside of him, stretching his tight hole a bit, so, when the
penetration itself finally happened, he felt smaller amount of pain from the
intrusion. It was still humiliating and uncomfortable – the member of the man
was thick and quite big, while his halfhearted attempt at stretching was quick
and impatient.
His moans of displeasure, too, were silenced by the pillow. The only sounds
filling the room were grunts and growls of the man above him, who was violently
pushing himself into his arse and pulling back only to thrust into him again
next minute.
At some point he felt a jolt of unwanted pleasure pierce him, when the man at
his back accidentally brushed his cock on his prostate. he gasped and
involuntarily jerked backwards, before biting his lip in shame. The rapist
growled in satisfaction and forced him to stand on his knees, released his
wrists and brought his hand to his member, which was already leaking the pre-
cum.
He cried in protest, when stranger’s hand wrapped around his length and
squeezed him hard. The stranger then proceeded to stroke him in sync with his
own thrusts. The rapist hit his prostate the second time, forcing him to cry
out again. Although he already lost the battle with himself and didn’t know
anymore if his own cries and moans were caused by discomfort or pleasure.
The stranger quickened the pace of his thrusts and stroking at the same time
when he felt the humiliating pleasure building up in his lower abdomen.
With a strangled cry Harry came hard in the stranger’s hand, at the same time
feeling the sticky warmth feeling him and hearing a stiffened sibilant
“Yesssss” behind him.
The stranger collapsed onto his back, successfully pinning Harry to the bed
with his heavy body.
Harry tried to throw him off, but he was too weak and his limbs felt like
jelly. Sniffing and sobbing quietly he stayed like that for a while and managed
to fall asleep or rather unconscious only when the stranger stirred in his
slumber and moved to the other side of the bed.
===============================================================================
He jerked up, gasping and breathing heavily, his face still wet with tears, his
body trembling.
Rubbing his face with his hands forcefully, Tom tried to calm down and
comprehend what he’d seen just now. Almost till the last moment he was pretty
certain, that was just a nightmare, though where his sub-conscious retrieved
those images he had no understanding.
Still shaken, he stood up and, stumbling on his way, went to the door out of
his office, where he’d spent the last five nights. He needed something to calm
his frantically racing heartbeat and embarrassing tremble of his limbs.
At the last moment he remembered that he could simply summon Snape, his own
Potion Master, who should still be in the mansion after his evening visit to
Harry.
Harry –
Sighing, he retrieved his wand from a sleeve and performed a spell allowing him
to call Snape through the connection to his Dark Mark.

He was nodding off, sitting on the same narrow couch he’d slept, when he heard
the knock at the door.
“My Lord, did you call me?” Snape entered his office in confident strides.
“I need a Dreamless Sleep, Snape,” Voldemort barked out.
“I have a fresh batch cooling up in my rooms, my Lord. I can bring them for
you. Or you can use this one, I finished it only yesterday.” Snape held out the
vial he produced from one of his pockets.
“That will do,” Voldemort grumbled, grabbing the vial and uncorking it. Before
he dawned it, though, he decided to ask, just in case. “How’s Harry?”
Snape’s gaze turned sour.
“So now you remembered about him?” he drawled sarcastically. “He fainted just
couple of hours ago from an exhaustion and a magical drain.”
Blanching, Tom startled, successfully spilling all the potion to the floor.
“Fainted?” he echoed.
“Yes. And according to his words, for the past three days, at least, he quite
clearly felt your ‘wrath’, as he called it, in the form of a headache, and saw
into your mind during meetings. You can imagine how his pregnant body took it,
I think.”
Tom took a shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut, then suddenly turned
on his heels and rushed to his own bathroom, his face paling drastically.
“Severus, do you have anything for nausea?” Voldemort emerged from a bathroom a
quarter of an hour later, still pale and trembling uncontrollably. “I suppose,
Harry has woken up already,” he grumbled in response to Snape’s inquiring gaze
and took another deep breath, the color of his face again turning to a green of
a spring grass. “Snape,” after a forceful gulp he grumbled threateningly.
“I’d suggest you go to him already, my Lord. Here, you can take this for your
nausea,” Snape held out yet another vial. “Also, I am afraid, the babies might
have started to feed off both of your magical cores directly due to the
distance between you. It is dangerous, both for them and for you.”
Voldemort quickly upended the offered potion and shook his head.
“I can’t,” he admitted. “Something makes me – ” he cut himself off. “Crave, I
think, this called. Yes, crave his body,” he spat through gritted teeth. “I
can’t think clearly in his presence. That’s unacceptable. And he is still
recovering, so it’s a threat to him and to the babies.” Voldemort let out a
nervous laugh. “Look at me, Severus! I am afraid of a teenager! No! I am afraid
of my own body!” He shook his head. “Can you believe it? Someone must have
cursed me recently!” He huffed indignantly.
“My Lord, that’s absolutely impossible!” Snape contradicted him. “You’re too
cautious. And even if somebody would dare – There are something like five feet
of space around your persona laced with defensive spells, one can practically
see the air cracking and bursting with sparks. You’re too skillful and powerful
for someone to have cursed you.”
Voldemort sighed: “You are probably right.” He waived his hand dismissively.
“Go to Harry, please, Severus. I’ll manage here by myself.”
“It could simply be that you haven’t been laid in a long time,” Snape mumbled
under his breath, cautious to not let the Dark Lord hear this scathing comment.
“Just go, Severus,” long thin finger pointed to the door, which had opened on
itself from Voldemort’s wandless magic burst.
Snape sighed and went out.
===============================================================================
After he had thrown Snape out, Tom turned to the couch contemplating a couple
hours more of sleep. He had plans for an informal lunch meeting with werewolf
pack-leaders for the next day, so he needed to be fully rested and in as good
mood as he could be these days.
Instead he turned around and began pacing, his thoughts returning to the report
he’d just got from Snape on Harry’s condition.
He was seriously confused by his own reaction to everything concerning this
boy. He was constantly worried for him. No, that should not be the case. Not
for him. Only for the babies he was bearing. That should be it. He was overly
mindful of Harry’s body, too. But of course he should be! This was a mother of
his children! If anything happened to – to a mother, it would be a true
disaster! He didn’t want to imagine –
He shuddered at the uncalled memory: a small delicate girl with a huge belly,
lying on a bed, sheets red and crisp with blood, the girl’s bright-green wide-
opened eyes lifeless and unseeing.
Rubbing his dry eyes in frustration, he tried really hard to forget that hell
of a memory, once again shedding it to the far corners of his mind, where it
had been hidden until just recently, but those green lifeless eyes continued to
haunt him, the face slowly morphing into more familiar features, a bolting scar
making the imagined person even more recognizable.
Letting out a dry sob, Tom stumbled to his desk, leaning on it heavily. He
yanked one of the drawers open, his movements nervous, and grabbed a flask
laying there and a pack of cigarettes he left long ago under it. Opening the
flask with a trembling hands he gulped its contents in one go, ignoring the
burning sensation of cognac going down his throat. Throwing the flask aside, he
took out a cigarette with jerky gestures and lit it up with his finger, using a
wandless spell. Taking a long and deep drag of it, he coughed reflexively,
before remembering the almost forgotten skill of smoking and doing it properly.
After a while he got rid of the half-finished cigarette and went to the door
with a purposeful strides.
===============================================================================
Tom held his steady pace for another three minutes, before his already weakened
Occlumency shields crumbled for good. He stumbled, his face again taking a
green color at the edges, making him grab the nearest wall in an attempt to
stay on his buckling legs. Taking an uneven breath through clenched teeth, he
sped up his steps towards his own bedroom, feeling his magic quivering and
splashing out of his core and into the nowhere, as its aim was not in the
vicinity.
===============================================================================
After he regained consciousness sometime after midnight, Harry stumbled to the
bathroom on unsteady feet and collapsed there, almost hugging the toilet.
He’d spent several hours there, either throwing up or simply sitting, unable to
find any strength in his body to return to bed. Though there was no purpose in
going out of the bathroom only to return there in a rush in mere minutes. After
a while his nausea finally stopped for enough time for him to come back to bed
and collapse in it in something between a faint and heavy slumber.
That, too, had not lasted long. He bolted up on the bed after reliving his
encounter with Voldemort that fateful night in the form a nasty and very
clinical nightmare and dashed to the toilet once more.
After this Harry spent the remaining hours of night in there. At one point he
thought he’d seen Snape briefly coming into the room, promising to bring a
potion for his nausea and leaving again.
Harry felt weak and miserable, sensed his magic going out of him in angry wild
splashes of energy, dissolving into nothingness. His stomach hurt and Harry
hoped that was only the result of constant vomiting and not a sign of something
bad happening to the babies. His vision swarmed, sometimes leaving him in a
nightmarish blackness, or, on the contrary, making everything around him
painfully bright.
So he was not sure anymore of his surroundings, and uncertain that a tall dark
figure of a man, barging just moments ago into the bedroom and looming in the
door frame to the bathroom, was not a part of his imagination.
“Harry,” came a soft voice.
Shuddering, he raised his head up towards the sound, the figure at the entrance
blurring before his tear-filled eyes.
“Tom?” he called out unsure.
“Yeah.”
Tom made a step forward and almost fell to his knees beside him, one hand
outstretched to touch Harry’s shivering form.
Harry involuntarily swayed towards him, collapsing on Tom’s chest. Sniffing
pitifully, he buried his flushed face in the crook of Tom’s neck and clutched
his shoulders painfully.
“Where have you gone?” Harry asked in a small voice. “You smell – funny – like
cigarettes?” he observed surprised.
“Sorry. Old habit. Should I take you to bed, or do you need – ?” Tom made an
awkward gesture towards the toilet.
“Bed,” Harry mumbled into his neck.
“Right,” Tom stood up, managing to lift Harry from the floor in the process,
and picked him up in his arms in a familiar way, bridal-style. Stumbling and
swaying slightly, he made it to the bed in unsteady slow steps, dropping them
both on top of the ruffled sheets, which have made a wild knot with a blanket.
“Wait a minute,” Tom slurred hoarsely and returned to the bathroom, closing the
door behind him.
Before Harry could call out for him, he heard all too familiar sounds coming
from behind the closed door – Tom was violently throwing up, making small
sounds of distress, ending in moans and sobs, the noise easily reaching through
the not very tightly closed door.
After several minutes Tom emerged from the bathroom with one wet towel in his
hands and another one – around his head, his face still slightly greenish.
He sat beside Harry on the bed and began to gently wipe his face and forehead
with the towel.
“Is it okay, if I do this?” he asked carefully.
“Thanks,” Harry replied weakly. “What happened to you?”
“Bad night,” Tom grumbled. “Though I presume, not as bad as yours,” the corners
of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “Snape told me, you fainted earlier.
Are you alright?”
Harry shrugged.
“Don’t know.” He sighed. “My stomach hurts and I still feel a bit nauseous,” he
let out another shuddering breath. “Where have you been all this time?” with an
accusation in his voice demanded Harry.
“I – ” Tom trailed off. “I don’t have a valid excuse. And no right to say
sorry,” he averted his eyes. “I’ll try not to – to leave – next time,” he added
weakly. “That was just too much for me, I guess. And I couldn’t grasp the
severity of it. Of separation.” He heaved a sigh. “Nevertheless, I apologize.”
He locked his blood-shot dull eyes with Harry’s. “You don’t have to – to accept
it, but – ”
Instead of answering, Harry raised his hand and reached to Tom’s cheek,
carefully touching it with his trembling fingers. Tom leaned into this touch,
closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.
“I am sorry,” he whispered again.
“Sleep here?” Harry suggested. “That’s your room, you know,” he added with a
smirk. “It’s rather uncomfortable to stay in a place, when the owner is absent.
You never know where to find something you need and, well – ” He shrugged.
“Just stay?” Harry looked at Tom with pleading eyes.
Tom nodded and stood up.
“I’ll just get this watered again,” he clarified, before going to the bathroom
once more, but this time not closing the door. Harry heard a splash of water
and a long suffering sigh of Tom, before he returned with two towels in his
hands, but without a one around his head. Placing one wet cloth on Harry’s
slightly hot forehead, he got down onto the bed, too, putting the other towel
on his own head.
“May I?” Tom asked tentatively, slowly stretching his hand out to put it under
Harry’s neck.
Harry hummed in agreement, snuggling into his body, ignoring the towel, which
slid onto Tom’s shoulder, hugged him and closed his eyes.
“Don’t you dare run!” he mumbled, slipping into peaceful sleep. He didn’t
remember that it was the exact phrase Voldemort had said after their first
night together.
===============================================================================
Harry opened his eyes, trying to understand why he was feeling so strange. For
some reason his warm blanket was breathing and snoring softly. Blinking Harry
raised his head and looked to his left: dark messy mop of hair obscured most of
his view, but he managed to make out a slightly scrunched face of the sleeping
Dark Lord.
Quietly sighing, Harry tried to carefully untangle their limbs, but it seemed,
Tom kept holding him through out the night, never letting go, even in his
sleep, and as Harry was shifting and turning all the time, they managed to make
a knot out of their hands and feet, so tight, it was hard to tell where one of
them ended and the other began.
Snorting, Harry at last slipped from the Dark Lord’s grasp, intending to go to
the bathroom.
“Where’re ya goin’?” came a sleepy incoherent mumble.
“Bathroom. Did I wake you? Sorry,” Harry whispered.
“Don’t be.” Tom turned to lay on his back, letting out a long sigh, rubbed his
face and stretched, making a huge yawn. “How’re you feeling?” he asked, his
voice still scratchy.
“Okay, I guess. Still tired,” Harry added in an afterthought.
“No pain or anything? Drained?” Tom inquired.
Harry shook his head.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, dashing to the bathroom and closing it behind
him with a quiet click.
After several minutes Tom stood up, too.
“Harry, are you alright there? May I come in?” he called. When no answer came,
he rapped his knuckles on the door for good measure, before slowly opening it
and looking inside.
Harry was sitting on the floor in front of the toilet again, breathing heavily,
the sight reminding Tom of the previous night.
“What’s wrong?” Tom carefully slid into the bathroom and stepped to the spot
behind Harry. The boy declined back, leaning on his legs. Tom gingerly brought
his hands to Harry’s shoulders, slowly putting them down after a second of
contemplation. Harry sniffled, before bending back down above the toilet.
Not knowing, what to do, Tom just carefully rubbed his back in soothing motions
with a soft repeated “Hush”, while Harry dry-heaved.
Finally Harry leaned back, letting go of the toilet and looked up.
“Help me up?” he asked in a miserable voice.
Tom brought him on his feet and led to the sink.
“Are you up to showering? Or a bath?” Tom suggested, while Harry washed his
face.
“Shower. If you help me, that is.”
Tom raised a brow at that.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Harry grumbled. “And I doubt you have the energy
yourself,” he snorted.
Tom let out a theatrical sigh.
“I’m sold,” he snickered. “Let’s get you clean then.”
Harry slowly began undressing, his movements unsteady.
“Here,” Tom gently pushed his hands aside and made a quick work on the buttons
of Harry’s shirt and pants, successfully unclothing him in a mere minute, after
which he shed his own robes with the same practiced ease. He led Harry into the
shower cubicle and stepped inside behind him, turning the water on his way.
Grabbing a sponge and lacing it with some soap, Tom began rubbing Harry’s
shoulders and back tenderly, slowly descending towards his legs. Harry swayed a
bit, but was hold up by Tom’s attentive hand. “You better lean on the wall,”
Tom suggested. “The floor might be slippery, you don’t want to test it and bang
your head on the stall.”
Harry let out a quiet contended sigh, obediently turning and moving under Tom’s
tender touches. The Dark Lord put aside the sponge and got to washing Harry’s
tangled hair, gently rubbing his scalp and carefully separating his wet dark
locks with his skillful slender fingers. Finally he started to wash the soap
away, turning Harry around with a soft touches to his back and sides. “Close
your eyes, I’ll rinse the soap off your hair,” he commanded softly. Harry
tiredly complied, slumping slightly and leaning into him. “Are you unwell
again?” not even attempting to mask his worry, inquired Tom.
“A bit,” Harry admitted. “Dizzy.”
Tom sighed.
“I want to try something, but give me five minutes to wash, too, please,” he
murmured into the top of Harry’s inclined head. “You can sit over there,” Tom
pointed to the closed lid of the toilet. “I’m covered in soap, so I can’t help
you to the room right now.”
“Okay,” Harry slurred, carefully exiting the shower with Tom’s help and
gingerly sitting on top of the toilet.
Tom quickly washed away the bubbles from his own body, his movements rather
less thorough this time, but more jerky from worry. Totally forgoing his damp
hair, only spending enough time to wash more bubbles out of them, Tom got out
of shower, put a towel around his hips and got another, bigger one for Harry,
who was sitting as he’d got out from under the water: naked and dripping wet,
his body shivering slightly from cool air of the bathroom.
“You could have reached to the towel stack from your place,” mildly admonished
him Tom. “Let me,” he wrapped Harry in a huge fluffy towel, hiding even his
head with it, lifted this quietly sniffling bundle into his arms and carried it
out into the bedroom, putting Harry down only when he reached the bed.
Tom unwrapped the towel, carefully dragging it down Harry’s form, slowly
revealing slightly shivering boy with a messy nest of dark hair. Leaving the
damp cloth hanging on Harry’s shoulders like a bath-robe, Tom gently pushed him
down onto the bed.
“Sit, please. I want to try something, but I need your permission, Harry.”
“What is it?”
“Last night – I kind of felt what you felt then, even before I came to the
room. I think, if I lower the Occlumency barriers between us, I’d be able to –
draw off, I suppose, your dizziness. Will you allow me to try?”
Harry’s eyes widened more and more with each of Tom’s words. When the
explanation ended, he just nodded jerkily with uncertainty.
Tom took a deep fortifying breath and, slightly bending down for better
leverage, looked into Harry’s eyes briefly.
Harry felt gentle ghostly hands, touching his mind, peeling off his weak
shields carefully one by one, then something warm engulfing him, like a soft
cotton, before his dizziness abruptly vanished.
Tom gasped loudly, swaying in his sitting position, his face turning an
unhealthy green.
Stifling a moan, Tom rose onto the unsteady feet and without a word went to the
bathroom. The door locked, the familiar sobs and gasps coming from behind it
almost instantly together with sounds of Tom throwing up.
The Dark Lord returned after several minutes, his face still gray from sickness
and his legs wobbling. He slowly reached the bed and collapsed on it with a
loud sigh.
“I have even more respect for pregnant women now,” he grumbled. “If they go
through this every time – ” he trailed off. “And I want to apologize to you
once more, Harry,” he added. “If I knew – ”
“You probably wouldn’t believe me still,” Harry chided him. “I clearly remember
how someone was almost ready for a Muggle DNA test just because of his
skepticism,” Harry let out a sarcastic snigger.
The Dark Lord rubbed his face in a tired gesture.
“Did you feel like this all this week?” he asked quietly.
“Not all the time, but yeah. Especially, the last two days, after that meeting.
Were there fifteen Crucio, Snape said?”
“Oh.” Tom had the decency to look embarrassed. “They are stupid! What can I
do?!”
“Talk?” Harry suggested. “If you simply talk through their mistakes, they at
least won’t repeat them. And maybe this way they will learn what exactly you
don’t like, so that next time they won’t anger you.” Harry gave him a lopsided
grin. “And don’t think of them as fools. Not all of them are. Clearly, you have
a high regard for Lucius, Snape and Barty. No?”
“So you like them?”
“Kind off. Barty is fun. Snape – well, he is still Snape, but I somewhat got
used to it. And he stopped calling me Potter, that’s good.”
“Why’s that?” Tom was still lying on his back, his face slightly pale, and was
seemingly not ready to brave the vertical position, so his question came a bit
husky.
“Maybe in a week or two, no, give him three, and he will finally understand
that I am not my father. Or mother, for that matter. Though that would be a bit
sad, too. Now he sometimes forgets and talks to me like he did to her. Or tells
me some small stories about her.” Harry’s smile turned sad at the last
sentence.
“And Lucius?”
Harry’s smile turned crocodile, devilish glint appearing in his eyes.
“He is okay. As snobbish as Malfoys could be, I think, but we – get along, I
suppose,” Harry admitted, snickering.
“Why I have a feeling you are not telling me something important?” Tom even
managed to raise his upper body, leaning on his elbows, to look at Harry.
Harry shrugged, attaining an innocent look.
“Don’t know. Are you still dizzy?” Harry chirped.
Instead of an answer Tom fell back on the bed with a soft moan.
“Don’t remind me,” he grunted.
Harry smirked triumphantly, glad to have successfully distracted Tom from the
dangerous topic of all things Lucius, instantly changing his expression back to
innocent the moment Tom raised his head again.
“You need a couple more wizards around you, I think,” Tom mused. “And Severus
will be leaving for Hogwarts soon, anyway.”
“Have you someone in mind, then?” Harry asked tentatively.
“Maybe. I’m still contemplating. There are not many powerful wizards or witches
among my people. I was thinking about Bella – ”
“No!” Harry cried out indignantly. “I can’t stand her! And she is mental!”
“What she is mainly is loyal. To me. So if I order her to lick your boots she
will be down on her knees even before I utter an order.”
“I don’t need a boot-licker,” Harry grumbled. “You can have her yourself.”
Tom sighed heavily.
“Then I suggest another idea. I hold informal dinners on Thursdays, which are
attended by most of my inner circle. You can choose yourself, as most of the
more powerful of them should be there. The nearest dinner is only tomorrow, so
– ”
“I like this. Anyway I need to get acquainted with them, I suppose. If I am to
stay here for some time – ”
Tom hummed wordlessly at that and raised his head again, seeking for something
at the wall above the fireplace and then at the window.
“What time is it? Tempus,” not even bothering with his wand, he murmured. When
nothing happened he frowned and reached for his wand, resting at the night-
stand, repeating the spell. Four figures lit up in mid-air above his head,
reading “eleven-forty”. “Oh, hell! I have to go – ,” Tom tried to get up, but
got pushed back by Harry’s hands on his chest.
“No, you don’t! Lay back down, will you?” Harry urged, when Tom made an attempt
to stand up again, despite his efforts. “Where, do you think, you’re going,
hmm?”
“Harry,” Tom sighed exasperated. “I have an informal lunch with werewolves in –
like fifteen minutes!”
“So when the crisis had passed you’re abandoning me again?!” Harry hissed
angrily. “I understand that you don’t care about me. But what of the babies?!
You don’t care about them either?!” Harry spat furiously, his eyes burning with
tears and rage.
Tom gently pried Harry from himself and stood up, swaying a little at first,
but then getting more steady and going to the wardrobe.
“I am not sure it is very wise move to bring you in front of werewolves in your
condition, Harry, but if you so wish, you can accompany me.”
Harry, cut off in mid-rant, just gaped at him.
“You really – You would seriously take me with you?” he asked in a small and
unsure voice.
“Uhuh,” Tom nodded absently, emerging from the wardrobe with two piles of
clothes in his hands. “For you. I’ll change the size, just give me couple of
minutes,” he began to dress.
Harry still amazed at the outcome of his outburst, just waited quietly till Tom
took his pile of clothes and shrank them to fit his size one by one, holding
each one in turn to Harry.
***** VII *****
Chapter by Ellia_Bronsky_(Ellia_Bronsky), Ellia_Bronsky
Chapter Notes
     I have two pieces of news for you :) The good one is that I have
     several chapters ready up my sleeve, so you can be certain there will
     be another chapter this week, probably on Friday or early Saturday.
     The not so good news (at least for you) is that quite possibly when
     my stock of ready chapters will be uploaded the speed of updates will
     slow down. As I said earlier, my mom is coming and will be there til
     mid-August, so I will dedicate most of my time to entertaining her :
     P Also I suddenly acquired a kitten (rescued poor thing from
     streets), so I'll spend as much time as I can with him, while we're
     getting to know each other. It doesn't mean I suddely stop writing,
     but for a while I'll be spending less time on PC, i.e. no writing or
     quick responding to comments.
     And I really love those! Thank you everyone, even if you simply left
     a smiley or gifted me with kudos!
     And now enjoy!
     =====================================================================
Harry was trailing behind Voldemort through the corridors of the Dark Mansion
to meet with werewolves for lunch. The Dark Lord was giving instructions
through gritted teeth, as he was still suffering from light dizziness and
nausea.
“Try not to interfere into our conversation. And definitely do not provoke
them. Or me, at that matter,” he added thoughtfully. “Werewolves are
supernatural beings and I am not almighty, as strange as it may sound, even at
best of times in comparison to these creatures, not to mention now, after our
little experiment. That was rather foolish of me,” Voldemort admitted.
Harry only sighed, lowering his head. On the one hand, he felt guilty and sorry
for the Dark Lord, on the other, though, he was glad to be rid of his usual
sickness for a while, not to mention, that Voldemort deserved this a little,
what’s with all his anger and absence for the past days, when he clearly was
told to stay with Harry and their unborn babies for the safety and health of
them all.
“Before you attain a wand, I advise you not to oppose pretty much anyone you
may encounter in the mansion. I will, of course, be with you, but as I said, I
am not a god. Some of the people visiting this place are beyond even my
abilities,” the Dark Lord continued. “Hmm. We need to solve this issue as soon
as possible.”
“What issue?” Harry inquired.
“Your wand,” Voldemort grunted annoyed.
“I thought you have it,” Harry said surprised.
“I had it,” Voldemort corrected. “But – ”
“What?! What do you mean, ‘but’?!” Harry cried out indignantly. “Have you
broken it?!” Harry clarified with dread.
“I have never thought of breaking it,” Voldemort confessed. “I was still
holding onto futile hopes of dueling you properly at the time of your
captivity, so it was never my intention to break it. It’s just – ” he trailed
off embarrassed. “It disappeared.”
Harry gaped.
“You are a mighty Dark Lord, are you not? How come, the wand of your most
dangerous prisoner had ‘just disappeared’?!”
“That was one of the main problems I tried to solve for these past five days.
What truly bothers me, though, is that together with your wand my familiar and
servant had both disappeared. Nagini, of course, could have gone hunting, but
Wormtail is the other matter entirely.”
“What, so you hadn’t killed him? When I haven’t seen him this time I thought
you Avada’ed him on sight after my escape,” Harry mused.
Voldemort raised an amused brow.
“Why is that? If anything I should have thanked him, not cursed to death.
Especially now, when I learned about the babies. If not for him – ”
“He may have brought me to your bedroom that time, but he also was the one who
let me out of the mansion afterwards,” Harry replied.
“I haven’t seen him since then,” Voldemort mused. “Though come to think of it,
if he’d set you free, no wonder. But when I was looking for him at that time,
Lucius reported to have seen him near my office – ”
“My wand had been in your office, I presume? And did you said ‘Lucius’?” Harry
asked in thought, his eyes glinting strangely.
“Well, yes. Why?” Voldemort sent a side-ways glance towards Harry. “Do you know
something?” he purred sweetly.
“No, just thinking,” Harry shrugged with an air of innocence to his posture.
“So what do we do with my wand then?” he inquired, quickly changing the
subject.
“I would continue my search of it. But until it is found, you need another
wand,” Voldemort grumbled reluctantly.
“I thought you didn’t want me armed with a wand,” Harry mumbled, averting his
eyes.
“No, I don’t. But you still need one,” the Dark Lord grunted. “You are a
wizard, are you not?”
“I spend half of my year as a Muggle, I don’t have such attachment to magic as
your average wizard,” Harry reasoned. “But I see your point. It is not safe
here even with a wand.”
“Not to mention, that you certainly need it through out the day, what’s with
your condition,” the Dark Lord admitted. “And wandless magic is dangerous even
without being a pregnant male.”
“Don’t tell me,” Harry grumbled. “Wandless Apparation is a nightmare.”
Voldemort chuckled darkly.
“So back to the topic,” he urged. “I have two ideas actually. We can visit a
wandmaker. Or I can lend you mine.”
“Wh-what? Why?” Harry gasped.
“If I am correct, our wands are somewhat similar – ”
“Brother wands. The same core,” Harry clarified.
The Dark Lord nodded.
“I presumed something like that. This way you wouldn’t have too much trouble
getting used or wielding it.”
“And what about you?”
“I can always borrow a wand from one of my people. They would be only too glad
to help,” the Dark Lord said airily, waving his hand in dismissal. “It is not a
problem for me – ” he cut himself off abruptly, remembering something, and
furrowed. “Though, that could become a minor issue,” he mused softly, barely
above a whisper.
“What?” Harry asked with curiosity.
“Later. We’re here,” the Dark Lord stopped in front of the doors, made from the
frosted glass, leading onto a terrace, brightly lit with sun. He raised his
wand above his own head and hissed something under his nose, which to Harry
sounded suspiciously like a spell in Parseltongue.
Immediately, the Dark Lord’s appearance changed to the familiar snake-like one,
with no nose, and with bald head and slits for eyes, which remained his usual
blood-red, but attained vertical pupils of a snake.
Harry shuddered at the view: “Don’t kiss me, when you’re like this,” he mumbled
softly in snake-language. Voldemort stretched his lip-less mouth in a smirk,
his eyes glinting devilishly for a second and hairless brows wriggling
suggestively couple of times, before he changed his expression to a more
neutral one.
“Don’t reveal your condition to them yet,” the Dark Lord warned Harry in
Parseltongue under his breath. “I’ll decide when it’s necessary.”
Harry nodded in understanding.
===============================================================================
The so called informal lunch turned out to be a rather strange affair.
When Voldemort stepped out onto the terrace, people, who were seated around the
oval-shaped table, conversing in hushed voices, stood up out of respect, but
not one of them bent their backs in anything akin to a bow. They turned, as one
– five men and a woman – towards Voldemort and gave out the slightest of nod
each, except for one man, who Harry vaguely recognized as one of the Death
Eaters, whom he might have seen in the fight at the Department of Mysteries.
The supposed Death Eater made a more pronounced movement, though he, too,
seemed less awed by the Dark Lord, his overly exaggerated act looking to Harry
as that of mockery, rather then respect.
Not one of them acknowledged Harry’s presence at first, though it was quickly
rectified. Voldemort made an inviting gesture towards the table and waited till
everyone was seated, before taking a seemingly random place in their midst. But
not before he pushed Harry lightly in the back, indicating where the boy should
seat, and took one of the two unoccupied chairs out for him. The Dark Lord sat
at his chair, after helping Harry to his place beside himself. That had finally
got everyone’s attention on Harry. It seemed, before Voldemort’s actions
everybody had thought of Harry as someone unimportant, a servant, maybe, or a
lower Death Eater brought along by Voldemort for some unknown purpose.
And now they were all staring at Harry, well, at his forehead and his famous
scar, in a hardly conceived surprise laced with shock. The only person, not
gaping at him, was the Death Eater with familiar face. This one’s expression
was even more bizarre, though: he grinned openly, a glint of amusement and
mirth in his eyes, which were darting from Harry to Voldemort. Harry threw a
brief side-glance of his own towards the Dark Lord, trying to comprehend, what
was going on.
When Voldemort warned him not to interfere and not to reveal his condition,
Harry thought he should become almost invisible, not attract all attention.
‘I should have thought of it beforehand. Their animal senses revealed your
condition, I am afraid. No point in hiding anything anymore.’
Harry twitched nervously, his gaze again darting to impassive face of the Dark
Lord. Did he just imagined that voice in his head or – ?
‘Minds connected, remember? Do try not to stare too openly at me, please.’
Harry felt something like an imaginary roll of eyes at the end of that
statement. Holding in his snicker, he tried to mimic the Dark Lord’s mental
eye-roll, but was not sure that it gone through to the addressee.
“Might I inquire, why are you all so surprised at the recent development of
events? Had I not informed you that I have an upper hand in my feeble quarry
with the Light side?” the Dark Lord asked suavely. “Fenrir!” he snapped
suddenly, seeing as the Death Eater continued his rude act.
Harry remembered at last, why this man was familiar to him. Fenrir Grayback,
Voldemort’s pet werewolf, who contaminated Lupin, and, according to the rumors,
was very fond, in a special way, of small children.
Harry sent a pointed glare to the Dark Lord, when he remembered that fact.
What’s he doing in the mansion now?!
Fenrir seemed unhinged by the Dark Lord’s annoyance, his smile growing even
wider in a demonstration of his pointed teeth. He winked at Harry before
turning lazily to Voldemort, who was almost at the point of throwing curses his
way.
“You may speak, Fenrir,” Voldemort said lowly through gritted teeth, with a
shark-like scowl of his own. “But do keep in mind, to whom you answer,” he
added even more quietly.
Harry’s head began to throb lightly from the Dark Lord’s anger. He shifted
uncomfortably on his chair and lowered his eyes to the plate before him.
Urgh! Meat! Almost raw, pink juice seeping out of the fleshy part. Harry gulped
down a bile, which was rising in his throat. Now even that strange connection
with Tom surely wouldn’t help him, and he would make a scene and disgrace
Voldemort in front of his guests!
The Dark Lord beside him took in a strained breath and snapped his fingers
suddenly.
Harry anticipated the appearance of a house-elf, but instead the door opened
and a man in a black robe and a white mask looked in.
“Change of menu,” Voldemort grunted. “Bring us something light and fresh. Fruit
and vegetables, I think,” he ordered regally.
The woman at the table gasped, clearly offended, one of men grunted something
in outrage.
The man at the door nodded silently and disappeared, but returned rather
quickly.
Harry expected the plates to be changed only for himself and Voldemort, but it
seemed the Death Eater serving them was even more stupid, then the ones, who
always mixed Harry’s potions. Or it was the Dark Lord intention from the very
start, him being the ultimate Slytherin, the king of scheming and cunning.
The plates were changed, thick red wine exchanged for a freshly made lemonade
and tea, but the supposed conversation still has not started.
Both Harry and the Dark Lord let out simultaneous sighs of relief, when the
smell of meat disappeared behind the closed door, taking away their nausea.
“Matilda, I apologize for this,” the Dark Lord offered. “You as a mother should
understand Harry better then these roughnecks.” The fond smile on this lip-less
mouth, directed at him, slightly unnerved Harry.
The woman nodded her understanding, a hint of warmth appearing in her gaze,
which she turned towards Harry.
“A rare blessing, my Lord,” she said in deep velvety voice, “My congratulations
to both of you!”
“I always said, the war is not for females,” grunted the same man, who was the
most angered by the change in menu. “You’re not an alpha, Mat, you’re just
playing with kids.”
“Stanton, we all know your opinion on the matter, but we’re not here to discuss
that,” another man said in warning, before turning to the Dark Lord with a
strained smile, “Forgive him, my Lord. And congratulations!”
Voldemort nodded regally.
Stanton grunted something under his breath, still annoyed.
Fenrir suddenly unceremoniously slapped him upside the head.
“Behave, boy, or I’ll speak to your uncle,” he growled threateningly. “My Lord,
good catch! Congrats!” he winked at Harry again and smirked.
“Mr. Grayback, you’re, as usual, too blunt,” sighed a man, who reminded Harry
of a young PT teacher: athletic figure, neat gold-rimmed glasses and ruffled
chestnut hair. He issued an easy grin Harry’s way before, too, turning towards
Voldemort with words of congratulations.
“Thank you, Richard,” the Dark Lord nodded. “I was hoping to talk business with
you all today, but it seems this happy news distracted not only myself,” he
mused. “And besides we have only young Stanton here, in place of his uncle,” he
uttered in slight annoyance.
“Pardon me, my Lord, but Craiton is busy with his own baby at the moment,”
provided one of the two men with no names given yet. “You must have heard his
tearful news,” lowering his head, added the man.
“Indeed, Leon, I am aware of his reasons and sympathize with him. Relay my
condolences, please. His wife was a remarkable woman, I heard,” the Dark Lord
said softly with a fallen expression.
‘Stanton’s aunt passed just two days ago after giving birth to her third
child.’ Harry heard even more sad voice in his head. Slowly closing and opening
his eyes again, trying very hard not to show any emotions, Harry took a sip of
his chamomile tea to calm himself and as a possible distraction, in case he
failed his attempt at impassiveness.
“Rex, have you heard anything from your cousin, who went to visit the
vampires?” the Dark Lord inquired. “I am rather interested in the alliance with
them myself, you see.”
Rex, another athlete, looking even more like a body-builder, with piercing and
tattoos covering his bare arms and chest, which was seen inside the opened
vest, as well as, Harry suspected, the rest of his huge stony body, shook his
head vehemently and replied in suddenly soft and almost feminine voice: “No, my
Lord, Ralph haven’t return or written to me yet. I’m worried how the vampires
might have received him,” he admitted quietly. “You know what everyone says
about them,” he murmured gently.
“I have visited them myself long ago, so I don’t think you should worry too
much, Rex,” the Dark Lord told him. “They are certainly not fluffy kittens, but
they do not devour their guests just for fun, either, believe me. Of course,
knowing your cousin, you probably have every right to worry,” he smirked
meaningfully.
Harry shot him a side-glance. Vampires? And he’d visited them, too?
‘I’ll tell you some other time.’
“So, should we postpone this meeting to some more appropriate time, then?” the
Dark Lord suddenly suggested. “You would probably want to meet with Dumbledore
now, I reckon, after learning today’s big news. I have no intention to hide
this joyous affair, so feel free,” he moved his hand invitingly in front of
him, “Speak to Dumbledore, speak to your dear ones, I don’t mind. You may even
wish to pay a brief visit to a newspaper,” he chuckled. “As long as it is not a
Muggle paper, inviting their egg-head scientists to our doorstep, you are
welcome to talk to any journalists you want,” Voldemort seemed ready to wink at
them. “So until then. Gentlemen, my lady,” a regal nod later he was helping
Harry to his feet and leading him out by a hand, though not towards the door
they came through earlier, but onto the open part of the terrace and further,
into the garden.
===============================================================================
When they left the vicinity of the terrace, the Dark Lord took out his wand and
removed the glamour, returning himself human looks. They walked a bit deeper
into the garden in silence, Tom still holding Harry’s hand in a gentle grip.
“How are you feeling? I had no option but to raise my shields up a bit, after
Fenrir began acting up. I apologize,” Tom said softly.
“You do that a lot lately, don’t you?” Harry gave him a crooked grin.
“Apologizing, I mean. I am as well as I could be, no headache anymore, no
dizziness. Though, I suspect that one had gone to you together with my nausea?”
he smirked again, but his smile had no real malice to it.
Tom shrugged uncomfortably.
“I am getting used to it,” he admitted with a crooked smile of his own. “That’s
the least I can do to you as a bearer of my children. You don’t need to go
through this alone.”
Harry let out a contended sigh and led Tom to a bench he saw nearby.
“You’re tougher then me, then. But not invincible, so you better sit,” he
suggested. “I’d be swaying and stumbling already.”
They sat peacefully for a good five minutes, before Harry blurted:
“You should teach me that mind-talk, too. I’d rather be able to reply then make
faces at you during some important meeting.”
Tom squinted his eyes lazily.
“I rather like your faces, when you’re not able to answer verbally,” he
smirked. “You’d make a good mime.”
“Prat,” Harry huffed in pretended annoyance, hitting him on the shoulder
lightly. “You’d rather I’d be silent all the time, so that you won’t hear
painful truth,” he added sarcastically. “You think Snape is enough for you?
Nah! I’d like to have my fare share of nasty remarks,” he showed his tongue
teasingly.
“I don’t see a forked tongue in that mouth,” Tom snickered.
Harry shuddered and blushed lightly, suddenly remembering their first night.
“You’re mean,” he grumbled, “Firstly you do that pervert thing with your
tongue, then abandon me, making me weak again, and now teasing! Cruel, cruel
Dark Lord!”
“That I am,” Tom agreed lightly, chuckling under his nose. “I am sorry,” he
murmured in a more serious tone, gingerly touching Harry’s shoulder. “I
promise, I won’t leave anymore. If I can help it, at least.”
Harry sighed and leaned into him, smiling in satisfaction, when Tom brought his
hand around his shoulders, embracing him and shifting him closer.
“I will certainly teach you to converse with me mentally,” Tom confirmed. “And
not to stare at me in the process,” he snickered. “That could confuse anyone
observing us in public,” he continued. “So no more faces. At least, outside our
rooms. Ah! I almost forgot! Do you need a separate room? You’ve mentioned
something yesterday.”
Harry shrugged.
“I am okay as it is. It’s not that I’d be spending any time alone soon, so I
see no point.”
Tom hummed in agreement.
“By the way, what do you think of our guests today? Aside from Fenrir, of
course, I don’t think he is likable to anyone,” Tom smirked, but his smile
disappeared, when he glanced at Harry.
Harry was staring in front of him with wide tear-filled eyes, a tentative smile
carefully forming on his trembling lips.
“Harry? What’s that?” worried voice of the Dark Lord finally brought Harry out
of his trance.
He blinked away the tears and looked up at Tom with pure joy, written all over
his face.
“Sorry,” he sniffled, “When you’ve said ‘our’ in front of werewolves, I thought
it was a slip, or some werewolf tradition. But now – ” he wiped away the rest
of his tears and looked at Tom with timid anticipation lighting his face up.
“Harry, I – ” Tom seemed at a loss. “I meant what I said before, I would gladly
provide to my children and their mother. Of course, this is your house! Don’t
you dare think otherwise! And of course these were our guests, so I am very
much interested to hear, what do you think of them.”
Harry gave him a trembling watery smile, trying to collect himself as quickly
and stealthily as possible.
Tom’s hand suddenly dove inside Harry’s robes, but he only searched for his
pocket and something in there. When he didn’t found what he was looking for, he
let out an exasperated sigh.
“Where’s your calming potion?” he inquired softly.
“Bedroom. Forgot it,” Harry mumbled sheepishly.
Tom brought a gentle hand to Harry’s face and carefully removed all traces of
tears from his cheeks with his fingers, then leaned in, his warm plump lips
softly touching Harry’s in a ghost of a kiss.
This had worked like a charm, successfully calming Harry due to its
unexpectedness and tenderness.
Harry softly sighed into Tom’s mouth, all traces of tears leaving him, and his
spirits raising.
Before the kiss could become more heated, Tom moved away.
“I am not made from iron,” he hissed softly in Parseltongue. “And you’re still
unwell.”
Harry tried not to roll his eyes. Now, who’s fault was that?
“Right. What were you’re asking? About the werewolves?”
“Yes. If our talks would go well, one of them could become your – err – knight,
let’s say, to support the magic of the babies,” Tom responded thoughtfully.
“Knight?” Harry repeated bewildered.
Tom shrugged.
“You may call them as you wish. That’s just something from my youth,” he
mumbled with a hint of embarrassment.
“Did you also held court then?” Harry snickered.
Tom winced.
“No. Only knights. The Knights of Walpurgis. I’ve stumbled upon the term in
some book and thought it sounded fitting for my purposes then,” he grumbled.
“You may want to invent your own name for them, if you’d like,” he repeated.
Harry shook his head with mirth in his eyes.
“It has a nice ring to it! If they need a name, then I like this one,” he gave
Tom a grin. “Like an inheritance from the babies’ father, eh?” he suggested
merrily.
Tom snorted.
“The Dark Lord’s spawn getting their own army even before their birth, you
mean?” he let out a soft laugh. “So mote it be, then,” he winked at Harry.
“So, I get it, all my recent visitors gave you reports?” Harry asked. “Judging
by these words, which I said to Barty once,” he added in explanation.
Tom shot him an apologetic glance and mumbled something under his nose.
“What was that?” in mock accusation demanded Harry.
“I was worried,” Tom mumbled, his voice laced with shame.
“So instead of coming on your own two feet you’ve sent spies?” Harry smirked.
“Don’t think I forget this any time soon,” he threatened.
Tom sighed, mouthing yet another ‘I am sorry’.
Harry waved his hand.
“Okay, back to werewolves. I liked that woman. Matilda, right? She is looks
like a real thing, kind of reminding me of Molly – err – my unofficial adoptive
mother, so I’d like to talk to her some day. Is she really an alpha in her
pack?” Harry was surprised.
Tom nodded.
“Her clan mostly consists of young ones and women, who don’t fit well into
other packs. Of course, there are some grown men among them, too, but they are
few in numbers and they are not very high in the pack hierarchy. I will arrange
for a separate meeting with her at the earliest date possible. Our talks are an
entirely different matter, and I think she would be delighted to help you with
anything either way, despite our progress with the alliance.”
“Alliance?”
“Yes. I try to make peace with benefits, so to say, with most of the non-human
races of the Wizarding world. The Ministry has very low regard towards them, so
they are more likely to sway our way, than run to Dumbledore and his non-human
registry officers. What about other werewolves?”
“The one with glasses seemed cool,” Harry admitted. “We might become friends
after one or two meetings,” he added.
Tom smirked.
“Was it my imagination, or did you check him out?” suggestively purred the Dark
Lord.
Harry blushed and pointed an accusing finger at him.
“If I was not mistaken someone practically undressed poor Richard with his
silken gaze right there!”
Tom’s smirk widened.
“So my gaze is silken, you say?” he purred.
Harry suddenly deflated.
“If we continue like this, we never make it to bedroom,” he deadpanned.
Tom had decency to blush, his cheekbones becoming rose-pink and dimples
appearing on his cheeks.
Harry’s eyes glinted at the sight.
‘I wonder if one can take pictures inside the Pensive –’
‘Firstly you need to acquire one,’ came snide reply, interfering Harry’s
supposedly private thoughts.
‘Are you going to listen on my thoughts all the time now?!’ Harry let out
mental outraged cry.
‘When they are of me – yeesss –’
Harry smacked Tom on the top of the head with his palm.
‘Pervert!’
‘But you like me anyw –’ even in the relative privacy of his mind Tom cut
himself off, immediately retreating from Harry’s thoughts, as if scalded.
Before he managed to jump to his feet and ran away, Harry, anticipating
something like that, jumped at his lap with a frightened yelp, tightly
clutching Tom by the neck. All his act was very much similar to the act of some
damsel in distress from the eighteenth century.
“What’s wrong?” Tom didn’t caught onto his act, his voice full of worry.
“I th-think I saw something,” Harry gulped, continuing to play a frightened
girl part. “Mouse?” he added unsure.
“Rat?” suggested Tom with a meaningful raise of a brow.
“I don’t think he’ll dare show himself, even if he come back here for some
reason. No, I think, that was a normal mouse,” Harry let out a sigh of relief.
Now he needed to keep in mind that he should act up upon seeing the poor
animals. Or he’d never hear the end of it.
“So, do you get it? The mental connection,” Tom clarified, Harry’s act
successfully distracting him from his intention to flee again. “In our case it
is really as simple as a wish to communicate to each other and a slight
decrease of inner shields – Oh, right, I totally forgot!”
“What now?” Harry inquired.
“I noticed earlier, but that just won’t do – Have you ever heard of
Occlumency?”
“Occlumency?” Harry echoed, wincing involuntarily. “Yeah. Never learned it
properly, though,” he admitted. “Last year Dumbledore made Snape teach me, but
– ” he furrowed. “Come to think of it, he must have done it on purpose,” Harry
mused. “What’s with him being who he is.”
“Hmm. We certainly need to return to the matter of Snape later. But this is
more urgent,” Tom pressed. “Occlumency for you and me should become vital, if
we would like to remain ourselves, while still sharing the connection. Do you
understand, Harry?”
Harry shrugged and shook his head.
“Not really,” he confessed. “What it has to do with anything?”
“Think again, Harry.” Tom sighed. “Just now I saw into your mind with ease, the
same as before, when we met with werewolves. In normal cases one should arrange
this beforehand, each party agreeing to lower the shields to be able to use any
mental links to such advantage, as we had. But I simply slithered into your
mind,” he reminded.
Harry shuddered, unwanted memories of last year making him wince.
“Would you kindly use more impassive terms, please?” he mumbled in discomfort,
trying no to move away from the other too openly.
Tom’s brow furrowed.
“Pardon my bluntness, Harry, but this is truly important, and you need to
understand it.”
“You don’t need another emotional breakdown of a pregnant teenager,” Harry
grumbled. “But do move on.”
Tom sighed.
“What I am trying to explain here is that you don’t have even the thinnest of
shields up there in this pretty head of yours. And you need them badly. For
your safety, as well as for both of our comfort and calmness. When I dragged
your sickness upon myself, it took me only to lower my own shields a bit and
our minds got connected, glued like magnets to each other. I am still not sure,
maybe that’s our strange connection, or a side-effect of the pregnancy, or a
mix of both, or something else. But if you want your mind be your own, you need
those shields and for this you need to learn Occlumency, and possibly even
Legilimency. Though that one can certainly wait,” he added.
“If I agree, can I chose a teacher?” Harry asked tentatively.
“Certainly. I can talk to Snape, so that he won’t jeopardize the lessons this
time around – ”
“Have you heard me just now? I said, I want to chose!”
“Err – Yes?”
“I want you to teach me,” Harry deadpanned.
“Me? B-but, Harry – ”
“Are you worse teacher than Snape?” Harry snickered. “Even if you would talk to
him, the man can’t teach a bird to fly, if he wanted. I don’t know why
Dumbledore hired him or kept him for so many years.”
“Are you sure you want me looking into your head?” Tom inquired with a strange
tone.
“And what were you doing for the past few years?” Harry retorted. “I’d rather
that would be you and not someone we both do not completely trust,” he added
quietly. “And I don’t know about yourself, but these days I trust only the
father of my babies,” Harry whispered, taking Tom’s hand into his own and
putting their intertwined limbs onto his stomach.
Tom let out some sound suspiciously similar to sniff, shifting on the bench and
encircling Harry with his free hand, so that he hugged him completely, and put
his forehead atop Harry’s head, hiding his face in his hair.
***** VIII *****
Chapter by Ellia_Bronsky_(Ellia_Bronsky), Ellia_Bronsky
Chapter Summary
     I'm sorry (not really XD) for everything Tom shoud go through. I have
     a tendency to make the characters suffer, if I really like them :P
     =====================================================================
Chapter Notes
     If you remember, I've said earlier, that I might slow down the
     updates for some time. At the moment, when I am uploading this
     chapter, I have three quarters of the next one written, but I am a
     bit stuck there, and also RL (in the form of my mom and new kitten)
     still takes all my time and mind. I hope it is temporary and I'll be
     back in a week or so.
     I'm posting this chapter as promised. ;-)
     Thanks for your comments and kudos! <3
     Enjoy! :)
     =====================================================================
A week ago, Grimmauld Place’ 12.
Hermione was overjoyed, when she accidentally overheard Dumbledore making a
fire-call to Madame Pomfrey asking her to come quickly, because Harry appeared
on the doorstep of the Order Headquarters and needed her assistance.
Thinking that she might learn something useful in the area of wizarding magic,
if she listen on the medi-witch healing Harry, and of course terribly worried
for her friend, Hermione made a tough but necessary decision.
So now she was lying with her ear pressed to the floor in the room above the
one, to the which Dumbledore took Harry after his arrival. Thanks to one of the
Weasley Twins inventions, she could clearly hear most of the spells Madame
Pomfrey used, as well as hear their talk with Harry.
Little did she knew that there was two more people shamelessly listening on the
same talk, hiding under the staircase half a floor lower than the one with the
room serving as a temporary hospital.
Ginny was dusting a windowsill in one of the upper-floor rooms, when she
accidentally glanced outside at the space in front of the threshold of the
house. Seeing a glimpse of a familiar figure there, she rushed from a room and
ran downstairs, but her Harry had nowhere to be seen. Ginny caught site of her
bewildered-looking older brother and took Ron under the stairs to her favorite
hiding spot. Ron was white as sheet, as if he’d seen a ghost and stuttering
something suspiciously sounding like “Harry’s back!” pointing a trembling
finger either to the front door or to the room, where Dumbledore had led their
friend.
The two youngest Weasleys thought it was rather strange, that the Headmaster
hadn’t announced Harry’s arrival to everyone concerned, who had been in the
house at the moment, so they took it upon themselves to solve the puzzle and
perused the same Weasley Twins invention, as Hermione, to listen on the same
talks.
===============================================================================
Hermione pressed her ear closer to the hard wood, finally hearing Dumbledore’s
voice after almost three hours of only random medical terms and spells reaching
her from the room below.
“What is it, Poppy? Something’s wrong?” Headmaster inquired worriedly.
“What’s wrong?” echoed Harry’s agitated voice with even more worry.
“ Harry, did they do anything to you? Aside from t-torture, I mean,” the nurse
asked.
“Do to me? Like wha–?” Harry wondered.
Hermione strained her ears to catch what the medi-witch whispered: “Raped. You
were raped.”
Hermione gasped and brought a hand to her mouth in shock: “Oh, Harry!” she
mumbled, tears blurring her gaze.
“It was an accident,” Hermione heard Harry mumble. “Not a r-rape.”
“Harry,” Madame Pomfrey called, “you don’t need to hide. It was not your fault,
dear, I’m sure. No need to feel ashamed.”
Hermione sniffled quietly. Her poor friend! he’d already suffered through a lot
during these years and now this!
“Harry, do you know, who – ?” the mediwitch asked carefully.
“Why? Why does it matter?”
“Harry, it should be a real shock to you, and I don’t know how to say it, but –
”
“What is it?”
“You are pregnant, dear!” Madame Pomfrey deadpanned.
Hermione’s eyes widened. That was not possible, Harry was a man, and men do not
get pregnant! Madame Pomfrey must have said something else –
“What?! How?! It – it is impossible! I am a guy! Men don’t get pregnant!” Harry
stuttered in shock, echoing Hermione’s thoughts.
“Harry, no! Of course, it is quite rare, but some wizards can bear children,
despite being male. It is not totally impossible, as magic can do real miracles
deemed impossible in Muggle world.”
Hermione sat up abruptly, her hand again on her mouth, to hold in her shocked
gasp. That was unbelievable! She needed to research this all thoroughly –
Shaking her head, Hermione remembered, that it was her friend down there and
not some interesting medical case from a book. She tried to listen more, but
managed to catch only several muffled phrases: “ – know the father?” Dumbledore
inquired. “ – can learn the identity – the abortion – ”
Hermione let out the outraged cry, quickly gagging herself with a fist, she’d
brought to her mouth, tears streaming down her paper-white cheeks. Poor, poor
Harry! Just when he had the chance at a family, Hermione knew, he always wanted
–
Suddenly determined, Hermione went for the door, with an intention to barge in
that torture chamber and stand up to her friend.
“This is my baby and my body!” Harry’s snarl was heard even without the magical
ear.
Hermione stopped at the door and returned to the floor to listen on more.
“Harry, my dear, you are still a minor – ”
“No, he is not, Albus.”
Hermione startled at the loud and angry voice of a usually kind medi-witch and
listened on her explanation for a while, the gears in her head already moving
and vague plans forming on how to help her friend. Thinking, she heard enough,
Hermione raised to her feet again. She would ask Harry in person, who the
father was, when she’d be able to get him out of here. Now she needed to
collect herself in order to prepare an escape route for them both, before the
Headmaster went completely crazy and did something to a defenseless ‘mother’.
Hermione gulped at the thought, still a bit shaky and dizzy, after the awful
and unbelievable revelation. She would have the time for a breakdown later,
when Harry and her would be far away from this sudden and unexpected cruelty of
the Headmaster. Shaking her head, Hermione rushed from a room to her own
bedroom to get the necessary things and, possibly, warn Ron and Ginny.
===============================================================================
Meanwhile the youngest Weasleys were listening on the same conversation, but
with entirely different outcome.
When Ron heard the dreadful word “rape”, he blanched and recoiled from the
magical ear he shared with Ginny, gasping loudly and seemed ready to burst.
“Ron, calm down,” Ginny hissed, her hand shooting to his mouth to gag him.
“Later,” she mouthed to the wide-eyed redhead. “They’d hear!”
They listened on for some more time, until it was time for Ginny to stumble
away, stifling sobs with a tightly clenched fist in her mouth.
“Pregnant?!” Ron mouthed outraged. “B-but,” he began, his voice raising a bit.
Ginny roughly slapped him upside the head. Ron’s face turned red and he opened
his mouth, but never managed to shout, as Ginny put one hand on his mouth and
grabbed his shoulder with another, roughly manhandling him, steering towards
the stairs and up to one of the rooms there.
They didn’t listen long enough to hear the part of the discussion about the
possible father, but Ginny managed to catch the tail of Dumbledore’s suggestion
of an abortion. So she was fuming and frothing at her mouth, when both siblings
finally found some relative privacy in the farthest room on the upper floor.
“How dare he?!” Ginny yelled, her gaze ablaze with fury. “Harry never agrees to
it! – Ron, say something,” she pleaded, when her brother didn’t react, shaking
him by the throat, she was holding him by from the moment he tried to wrestle
free while they had still been going up the stairs.
“Can’t breathe,” Ron let out in strained voice.
“Good!” Ginny barked. “They shouldn’t know we heard that!” she released Ron and
began pacing the room. “We need to help him, Ron. To get him out of here – ”
At that moment they both heard a loud noise from downstairs: sound of a
breaking glass and incoherent shouts in familiar grandfatherly voice of
Dumbledore.
Ginny stopped her pacing and sharply turned to Ron.
“What was that?” her voice dropped in volume drastically at the end of the
question. “Harry?!” she rushed out of the room and ran downstairs.
===============================================================================
Hermione was frantically rummaging through her things and books, she managed to
snatch from the library moments ago in a whirl of frenzied packing rush, when
she heard a sound of a glass breaking and Dumbledore’s outcry of “Harry, come
back here!”
Startled, Hermione turned to the closed door of the now empty room she usually
shared with Ginny, but made no movement to go out. Instead she came to the door
on tiptoes and pressed her ear to the wood surface, automatically taking out
the magical ear and activating it.
After couple of minutes of tentative listening, a Cheshire’s smile appeared on
Hermione’s lips.
“Good boy, Harry!” she mouthed. It seemed Harry managed to escape on his own.
Now she only needed to do half of the things she planned: rent a room at Muggle
London, or, better yet, outside of it, somewhere in a suburb, and contact Harry
somehow. Or maybe he would contact her on his own again. She made a mental note
to read all she could about Wizarding male pregnancies. Not only it was very
interesting, but she needed to help her poor friend, so she needed to be
prepared for anything.
Sighing, Hermione removed the magical ear from her own and returned to her
packing. No way she was staying here now!
When her parents left for Vietnam, instead of going on vacation with them she
was brought here to help organize Harry’s birthday party and attend it later,
but now all of this didn’t make sense. So there was no point in staying. And
besides, this rule-breaking was a bit exciting, and she now understood Ron and
Harry’s wish to rebel all the time.
Another grin appeared on her lips, her eyes glinting with excitement. She was
still contemplating whether she should tell Ron and Ginny everything, or at
least something, or even include them in her plans. She decided to put this
aside for later, when the necessary preparations here were finished and she
would be leaving.
There still were some books in the library, she wanted to take with her, and
there was also the matter of performing magic, when technically she was still
underage. When they would be on the run magic could become handy, although,
being a muggleborn, Hermione was ready to live without it for a while, until
she’d be of age. And anyway Harry was already emancipated, according to the
medi-witch. Of course, Hermione planned to research this, as well. But for now
– packing and rest. She had a tough times ahead of her.
===============================================================================
“We should head back, before our resident self-appointed nurse sends out a
search party,” Tom murmured softly with a clear reluctance in his voice after
several minutes of comfortable silence. Harry sighed and shifted in his arms.
“It’s already late. I think, I hear clatter of potion vials and just saw a
hooked nose peeking out of the bushes,” Harry sniggered.
Tom hit him on the back halfheartedly.
“No need for cheek, brat! Let us go,” he said sternly, but a smile, threatening
to overcome his lips, betrayed his amusement. “I won’t carry you all the way,
you are perfectly able to walk on your own two feet,” Tom grumbled, when Harry
still hadn’t stood up. “And thanks to you I am still a bit sick,” he grunted
under his breath.
“That was your idea, don’t give me that,” Harry huffed. “And I was serious
about Snape, here he comes,” he pointed to the dark figure striding along one
of the garden paths towards them. “He carries anti-nausea potion in his pocket
all the time now. If you ask nicely, he might even share,” Harry smirked.
“I don’t need to ask, I can just order him!” Tom grumbled.
“But if you ask, he will be so-o surprised,” Harry snickered. “Imagine that –
Oh, hi, Severus!” Harry chirped, beaming at the sour Potions Master.
Snape nodded, looking like he wanted to say something, but the Dark Lord beat
him to it.
“Severus, may I inquire if you, per any chance, have some potion for nausea on
your persona?” Tom asked politely.
Harry smirked.
Snape gave out a long suffering sigh and with an expression of endless patience
on his face hold out the vial to Harry.
Harry let out a bark of laugh and pushed Snape’s hand with a potion towards
Tom.
Snape raised a curious brow.
Tom took the vial with indignant air and drank the medicine. His face almost
immediately acquired a more normal color.
“Did you wanted to say something, Severus?” the Dark Lord calmly inquired.
“Yes, my Lord. Harry is due his share of potions,” Snape gave Harry a pointed
look. “Also I was asked to relay a message from the Healer. He got hold up at
the Ministry this morning, so he will be able to visit only in the late
afternoon at the very least, or they may even keep him there till tomorrow.”
Snape’s face was as impassive as one could be, when anticipating the inevitable
torture.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, Tom,” Harry said softly, looking at the Dark Lord
from under the fringe.
The Dark Lord, whose hand was already on the wand, let out a sigh and released
the handle.
“Very well, Severus. If this is all – ?” he raised a brow.
“No, my Lord. There is another matter, requiring your attention,” Snape
admitted.
“Do tell,” the Dark Lord urged him.
Snape shot a brief glance Harry’s way, but continued upon the Dark Lord’s
impatient wave of a hand.
“You’ve asked to inform you – On a certain development – ” Snape again shot a
pointed glance towards Harry.
When Tom seemed not to understand what he was hinting at, the Potion Master
seemed ready to roll his eyes exasperatedly.
“It is about a particular potion you made me research recently,” Snape gritted
through his teeth, his face unreadable.
At last Tom caught up onto his vague words.
“Oh, that! You can make a report in writing. I am not planning to leave Harry’s
side any time soon,” the Dark Lord said with an air of finality to his words.
“I’ll be in our chambers. I trust, Harry’s potions are already there?”
“Of course, my Lord,” Snape left with a slight bow.
“What was that all about?” Harry asked with a curiosity written all over his
face. “Oh, and what Algie is doing at the Ministry?” with a hint of suspicion
to his voice inquired Harry.
“Algernon is an external consultant to the Unspeakables, sometimes they require
his assistance with the issues pertaining to medical theory. He is well versed
in many areas of his own expertise and specializes in the most interesting and
rare medical cases. So Snape’s choice of Healer had been remarkably
thoughtful,” Tom explained, ignoring Harry’s earlier question completely. “I
think it is time to return inside. You need your potions and rest.”
“As do you,” Harry grumbled reluctantly. “Don’t think I don’t know that you
were planning to occupy yourself with some Dark Order business, while I’d be
sleeping! And this just won’t happen!” Harry poked him with his finger, as if
to make his point.
Tom couldn’t contain his soft smile at hearing that.
“We’ll see.”
===============================================================================
Harry was sorting the multicolored vials with potions on a nightstand on “his”
side of the bed, lining them up in the order he should drink them and shot
brief glances from under the fringe at Tom, who was trying to make himself
comfortable in an armchair near the fireplace, stacks of papers littering a
tiny glass table and a floor at his feet.
“And you say those are the most urgent reports?” Harry snorted in disbelief.
“Are your troops made of school-nerds with an affinity to write ten-feet
essays, or something?”
Tom gave him a crooked smile.
“I think, they are simply afraid to report in person,” he sniggered. “So when I
ordered to resort to writing they gladly complied.”
“Are you going to read that lot now?” in mock horror Harry inquired.
Tom shrugged.
“Might as well. You need to rest – ”
“And you don’t?”
“I think I would fare – ”
“No, you don’t! And that’s not up for debate!” Harry claimed and stalked to
Tom. Grabbing several scrolls, the Dark Lord was contemplating, and forcefully
shoving them onto the huge messy pile on the table, loosing them among other
scrolls there, Harry took Tom by his hand and dragged him to bed. “You’re going
to sleep, as well. Our twins need all the magic and energy we have, so we both
should rest.” He pushed Tom down on to the blanket, with his hands on Tom’s
chest. “Lay down, will you,” Harry grunted, when the Dark Lord made no effort
to either comply or fight him, just sitting there with a careful expression.
“You know, I think, I have some Dreamless Sleep in there somewhere,” Harry
motioned with jerky hand towards the multicolored line of vials. “And I can
easily force feed it to you. Don’t think that I won’t dare. Or that you’ll be
able to evade it,” Harry added with a malicious smirk. “The Hat so did want to
put me in Slytherin, you know.” He’s smirk widened at Tom’s surprise. “So rest
assured, I have some rather nasty tricks up my sleeve,” winking, Harry finally
managed to bring Tom’s form down onto the bed. He plopped down beside the Dark
Lord, never letting go of his hand, and snuggled closer tho the man, resting
his head on Tom’s shoulder for good measure.
“Why did you choose the House of Lion though?” Tom asked softly.
Harry only sighed with satisfaction in response.
“That’s a tale for another time, I think,” he let out a tired giggle. “And now
sleep,” murmuring, he shifted on Tom’s shoulder seeking the more comfortable
position. “And they say I’m scrawny,” he grumbled. “You’re all bones yourself.
Must have been hard to grow up during war times – ” the next moment the only
sound Tom could hear was Harry’s breath.
With a sigh of his own the Dark Lord laid there for some time, just staring at
the ceiling without any coherent thoughts crossing his mind, only some half-
formed images feeling his head. And he was not sure any more, whether they were
his own or belonged to the boy in his arms.
===============================================================================
Hary woke up alone, his mood instantly going sour at the thought that Tom again
abandoned him and the unborn babies. The room was quiet, no sound coming from
the bathroom either, so Harry deduced, that Tom really left him again.
Remembering their morning talk, Harry tried to reach for Tom mentally.
‘And where are you frigging around this time?’ even Harry’s mind-speech was
angry and demanding.
‘I apologize. Got hold up a little.’ Tom’s mental voice was strange, as if
strained. ‘I’ll return as soon as I can.’
‘Tom? What’s wrong?’ for some reason Harry got a bit worried over Tom’s short
comment. He was ready to berate him for his absence just seconds ago, but his
anger dissipated rather quickly, when he felt Tom’s invisible presence through
their link.
‘Later,’ came the reply, Tom’s mental voice becoming less clear, as if Harry
was hearing it through a pillow. The feeling of the invisible presence, too,
began to dissolve.
‘Tom!’ Harry called out, already understanding, that Tom’s end of their
connection got shut off and the Dark Lord couldn’t hear him any more.
===============================================================================
Several hours later Lucius found Harry nervously pacing between the bed and the
door, picking and immediately throwing aside random scrolls with reports, left
by the Dark Lord.
“Lucius!” Harry called out worriedly. “Do you know, where Tom had gone? Did
something happen? Why has he not returned yet? I can’t sense or hear him!”
Malfoy stopped at the threshold at Harry’s outburst. Giving him a wary glance,
the blond carefully responded: “I’m not entirely sure. Something must have come
up, stalling his return.”
“But from where? Where did he go?”
Lucius gave a nonchalant shrug.
“He doesn’t report to me on his whereabouts. And one doesn’t question his
Lord’s actions.”
Harry just scowled at his cheek and shook his head exasperated.
“What are you doing here then?”
“Same as usual,” Lucius grunted. “Feeding my magic to your blasted babies.”
“Careful, Lucius,” Harry grumbled with threat in his voice. “That’s your Lord’s
children you’re talking about.”
Lucius huffed indignantly.
“Are you going to tell on me then?” he smirked triumphantly.
Harry let out a bark of laugh at that.
“I may not need to,” he smiled maliciously. “He might have heard you already,”
Harry purred sweetly, his mood taking a one-eighty suddenly. “He is coming,”
Harry hissed in theatrical whisper, widening his eyes warningly.
Lucius shuddered, his face paling drastically.
Harry heard Lucius gulp loudly and let out another bark of laugh, this one more
jovial, then the previous.
Suddenly the door creaked, opening and letting Tom in.
“Lucius, leave,” the Dark Lord commanded harshly, stopping just shy of the door
and leaning nonchalantly on the frame.
Malfoy startled, issued something between a brief nod and a slight bow and
quickly left without a second glance at Harry, whose full attention was already
on the Dark Lord anyway.
“Where have you gone?” Harry began in a condescending tone, stalking to Tom in
threatening steps.
Tom sighed and suddenly swayed on his feet.
Before Harry could reach him, his form slid tiredly down the wall, his legs
giving in under him.
“T-Tom!” Harry rushed to his side and tried to help him up.
“Don’t,” Tom let out in hoarse voice. “I can manage – ” he tried to stand up
from the floor, but made it only on the third try, stumbling to the bed in
heavy unstable steps and collapsing on it.
“What happened?” Harry inquired worriedly. “Are you hurt? Wounded? Shall I call
for Snape? Or Algie?”
“Don’t,” the Dark Lord repeated. “I’ll just rest for a while – ”
‘Where did you go?’ Harry asked, even his mental voice worried.
“Vampires,” came a short verbal reply.
Harry gasped.
“Why?!”
“It was necessary.”
“Did they – ?”
“They tried,” the Dark Lord let out a tired chuckle.
Harry sat beside Tom on the bed with a sigh.
“What was so urgent? Couldn’t your men do this instead?”
Tom slowly shut his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath.
“Too much talk,” he mumbled sleepily. “I needed to get Avery out of there. He
got himself – ah – ‘stuck’ at the Master’s lair.” He winced.
“Do you always go on a rescue missions for your men?” Harry asked surprised.
“Only when they got themselves almost killed while fulfilling my personal
requests,” Tom grumbled. “Can I finally sleep now?” he inquired dryly when no
more questions followed.
Harry nodded vehemently and smiled sheepishly.
“Sorry. I began to worry, when you got disconnected. Sleep.”
The Dark Lord immediately shut his eyes, falling asleep even before fully
closing them, it seemed. Harry left seated for a while, simply basking in the
other’s body heat and looking at the peaceful expression on the face of the
sleeping Dark Lord, before he got up and began quietly collecting the scrolls,
lying everywhere on the floor, and putting them in some kind of order. He
continued to shot brief glances towards the sleeping form on the bed, as if
making sure, the man hadn’t left again.
===============================================================================
About two or three hours later the Dark Lord was still sleeping. Harry was
sitting in his armchair with one of the scrolls in his hands, having started to
read the reports couple of hours ago out of boredom.
A quiet knock on the door distracted Harry from his dull reading material. It
seemed, the Death Eaters were even more sloppy and stupid in their writing,
then in their actions, Harry mused, wincing. He raised his head to look at the
sleeping Dark Lord, than turned towards the door and called out in soft voice:
“Enter!”
Barty’s head appeared in the creak of the half-opened door, an inquiring
expression on his face.
“May I?” his eyes darted towards the bed and Barty lowered his raised foot, not
crossing the threshold. “Sorry, I’ll come later,” he murmured very quietly.
“Please, don’t leave!” Harry pleaded in half-whisper. “He won’t mind, I’m sure.
And I’m bored!”
Barty gulped, still looking fearfully at the Dark Lord’s sleeping form.
Harry sighed. “Barty, don’t worry, even if he does mind, I am here. I won’t let
anything happen to you,” Harry tried to assure the scared Death Eater. “And he
won’t do anything to me, you know it.”
Sighing in resignation, Barty entered the room.
“What are you reading?” he inquired in surprise, seeing the stack of reports at
Harry’s lap.
“Reports from you, people. Might do something productive, while coped up here,”
Harry shrugged. “These papers look as if written by a toddler,” he complained,
wincing. “Even I can do better,” he snorted. “And I am still a school-boy. I
haven’t seen this many mistakes and misspelling since I had been in my first
year at the pre-school!” He shook his head exasperated. “Are your reports just
as bad? Are they even in here?” he mused in curiosity, going through the
scrolls in search of Barty’s report.
Barty snorted. “I don’t think so. My Lord,” he glanced at the bed and lowered
his whispering voice even more, “prefers to hear every news about you in
person, rather then read them, as he can’t very well Crucio me for my
‘disrespect’ this way,” he smiled crookedly.
“I hope you’re joking,” Harry said. “He can’t be throwing curses all the time.”
Barty shook his head. “I wish he – ” he shut up abruptly, going cross-eyed from
his attempt to glance at the bed and to continue to talk to Harry at the same
time: the Dark Lord shifted in his sleep, a soft strangled moan escaping his
parched pale lips. Barty shuddered.
Harry waved his hand. “Don’t mind him,” he suggested. “Did you found that
Quidditch magazine I’d asked about last time?”
Barty, moving slowly, like enthralled rabbit under cobra’s gaze, produced the
magazine in question from out of his robe-pocket, his eyes not leaving
Voldemort’s restlessly moving body for a second. Harry looked at the bed as
well, but shrugged nonchalantly and took the magazine out of Barty’s slightly
trembling hand, immediately going through the pages in search of something.
“Ah, here! Yes! Barty, you owe me three Sickles!” Harry grinned and looked at
the Death Eater.
At that moment the Dark Lord sat up abruptly, as per his usual habit to stand
up even before he woke properly. Not minding anyone in the room Voldemort
stalked to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself.
Barty let out a soft nervous laugh.
Harry threw an inquiring glance at him.
“What’s wrong? Don’t say you fear him even now,” Harry asked in amusement,
raising his brow.
Barty nodded jerkily.
“You have no idea – ” he trailed off at hearing a loud noise from behind the
closed bathroom door – the Dark Lord managed to knock something to the floor in
there.
Harry sent a brief worried glance in the same direction, wondering, what had
gotten into Tom. Then he returned his attention to Barty, who gradually began
to relax in the absence of the feared Dark Lord.
“So, three Sickles?” Harry held out his hand to Barty in a demanding gesture,
with his palm facing upwards.
Barty rolled his eyes, but took out his purse to fulfill his end of their bet.
“Here. Why is it always three?” he whined. “I began to carry around more change
then ever due to your pettiness,” he snorted.
Harry took the coins, sticking his tongue out. “Because it annoys you so,” he
smirked. “And I like hearing the rattle of coins in your pockets, when you move
around,” Harry let out a snigger, but suddenly sobered.
There was another loud noise from the bathroom, after which Harry immediately
heard the Dark Lord call him out in his mind. ‘Harry, can you help me here?’
the tone of his mental voice was off and before Tom could close off the
connection between them, Harry managed to catch a trace of pain the Dark Lord
was feeling. Sending a brief glance to Barty, Harry rushed to the bathroom.
“I advise you leave, he is not in a good mood now,” Harry supplied, before
disappearing into the bathroom.
Barty shuddered and quickly left after hearing his words.
===============================================================================
Harry entered the bathroom, a question forming on his lips, but closed his
mouth, no sound escaping him, when he saw Tom.
The man’s upper body was bare. Several angry red gashes decorated his muscled
chest, going across his torso from his right shoulder downwards to his left
side. The blood drops along the deep cuts, which looked like claw marks, stood
out on his sickly pale skin. Harry could hardly imagine what beast had managed
to inflict such damage upon the Dark Lord.
Tom had an untidy bundle of bandages in one of his hands and was heavily
leaning on the sink, supporting himself with the other hand, tightly gripping
the edges of the basin, his knuckles gone white from the force, with which he
clutched his fist.
Harry gasped at the sight.
Tom inhaled loudly through gritted teeth and let out the air in a careful
shuddering breath.
“Can you help me with these?” he grunted, demonstrating the gauze. “I tried
myself, but – ” Without another word Harry rushed to his side, took the
bandages out of his hand and started to untangle them quickly.
“Pray tell, why didn’t you feel the need to say that you were wounded last
night?” he grumbled. “I could have called for Algie, or Snape at the very
least.”
Tom, now leaning heavily on Harry, furrowed. “This does not concern them,” he
gritted. “If you’re unwilling, I’d manage,” he let out another strangled sigh.
Harry felt a ghost of pain, flickering across his own chest, the sensation
seeping through the cracks in the Dark Lord’s weakening mental shields.
“Stubborn moron,” Harry murmured softly.
He finally managed to separate several strips of bandages from the chaotic knot
Tom made of them.
“Won’t it be easier, if you sat? Barty left, we can return to the room,” Harry
suggested.
“No,” Tom replied shortly. Harry guessed, that he was unsure he could manage
the walk that long and not collapse on the way.
Harry sighed. “Do you have any balm or something? These cuts look awful.”
“No. This needs to heal without,” the Dark Lord responded in clipped voice.
“Vampires – ”
“Oh! I got it. Don’t talk,” Harry said quickly. “I’m putting the gauze now,” he
warned and began slowly wrapping Tom’s chest with the layer upon layer of
bandages.
Tom stood patiently, his uneven breathing the only indication he was feeling
unwell. Even his grip on Harry’s shoulder became weak, just a way to held
himself upright rather then a painful clutch onto the other’s form in seek of
support.
“Tom, are you going to faint on me?” Harry inquired softly, when Tom’s hand
slid from his shoulder tiredly.
“No.”
“Can you walk?”
“Should.”
Tom made an unsure step to the door, swaying slightly, but managed to steady
himself with the hand on the door frame.
“Are you in pain?” Harry asked worriedly, eyeing the barely visible tremble of
Tom’s hand on the wall.
“No,” that was clearly a lie, because Harry still felt a trace of Tom’s
sensations coming through their mental link. The Dark Lord seemed to not notice
the slip, though.
Moving slowly, his back rigid in the attempt to not disturb the wounds on his
chest, Tom made it to the wardrobe and opened it in search of a shirt without a
blood on it.
“Let me,” Harry gently pushed him out of the way and peaked into the wardrobe.
“Do you need some specific clothes or – ?”
“Any will do,” Tom stepped out of his way, but stayed up, not daring to sit.
Harry thought, that was understandable, he’d too be holding his body very still
and wouldn’t even attempt bending down to lower onto a bed with such wounds, as
the ones he’d seen on Tom. Actually, it was surprising, that he’d managed to
sleep through the night and allowed Harry to hug him, being in such a pain all
the while. And it was even more miraculous that Tom was staying on his two feet
now –
A quiet sigh, followed by a soft thud, behind him attracted Harry’s attention,
making him glance away from the wardrobe and over his shoulder at Tom.
At first Harry didn’t understand, where the Dark Lord had disappeared. Whirling
around on his heels, Harry lowered his eyes and came upon the sight of the Dark
Lord’s still form lying at the floor unconscious.
***** IX *****
Chapter by Ellia_Bronsky_(Ellia_Bronsky), Ellia_Bronsky
Chapter Notes
     Despite the fact that I usually try to have a chapter up my sleeve
     until I have the next one written and in view of my birthday tomorrow
     I decided to make a gift for you all, taking a leaf out of hobbit’s
     book (they tend to give out gifts on their own birthdays, if you
     don’t know).
     Anyway, on one side, about half of the next chapter is written
     already and the rest of it is more or less planned out. On the other
     side, I have started writing yet another story, I am posting Prologue
     and the First chapter of it today (or tomorrow) as well, if you are
     interested (another tomarry, another cliché: Harry goes back in time
     to adopt Tom). That was shameless self-PR, yeah XD I love those. I
     want to let couple of chapters of that one out of my mind before I
     return back to this story and to other posted ones, too.
     Also, I am going to have the ordinary office job from now on, so will
     have considerably less free time. This means that I can’t say
     anything about next update, probably in a month, or on the opposite –
     in a week’s time (depending on how busy I will be and how tired after
     working days, or how much free time I’ll have in office to
     contemplate new chapters).
     Thanks for the reviews, they make my day every time I see a notice
     and read them!
     =====================================================================
Hermione was furious. After Harry escaped from Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore had
told everyone that their precious Savior was out of his mind a little, due to
the torture he’d undergone at the hands of Voldemort, so it was urgent to find
him as quick as possible to help him come over it. At first, Hermione had
thought that was a wise move not to tell of Harry’s real condition to the Order
members, so that they won’t worry even more and wouldn’t be distraught during
their search.
She had thought that Dumbledore, too, came to his senses and returned to being
the grandfatherly figure for Harry, as he’d been before.
But now Hermione was not so sure anymore.
She was again stealthily listening on the conversation not intended for her
ears, or anyone else’s ears, at that matter, aside from those involved in the
discussion.
“Headmaster, are you certain, that it won’t make the matters worse?” the voice
of Kingsley Shacklebot was laced with worry. “I am not sure, the others will
have it in themselves to throw offensive spells at Harry. Hell, I can hardly do
it myself!”
“Mr. Shacklebot, I assure you, it could only speed things up. If you happen to
come across Harry, you’d better be prepared to Stupefy him and bring him here.
From then on it would be my business to talk him back into the fold, so to
speak. He’d lost himself a bit, while Voldemort tortured him. You clearly
remember the Longbottoms? They were Crucioed to insanity in the matter of
hours. And Harry had spent days at Voldemort’s place and under his wand. He is
strong young man, but nobody could stay strong that long, you should
understand. So just bring him here, and I take it upon myself to heal his
clouded mind.”
Hermione bit her lip, trying to suppress the anger upon hearing this. It
seemed, Dumbledore remained the same way he had been when Harry returned:
stubbornly refusing to care for his student and simply pushing his case on.
When no other significant words were said, Hermione turned on her heels, at
last coming to the decision to talk to Ron about her upcoming escape to help
Harry.
She never noticed a dark heavy eyes of someone, looming in the corner not far
from her hiding place, watching her like a hawk – Sirius had been also
listening on the same conversation, and followed her with his gaze, when she
headed off to go search for Ron and Ginny.
===============================================================================
Harry somehow managed to raise the unconscious heavy body of the Dark Lord onto
the bed and now was sitting cross-legged in his feet, worriedly looking at the
unmoving form in front of him. Tom had remained seemingly lifeless for the past
two hours, not coming to himself despite Harry’s halfhearted attempts to wake
him. Harry was reluctant at first, realizing, that it was probably for the
better for Tom to stay unconscious, thus not feeling the unnecessary pain he
should have been in otherwise, and to heal a little. But when the second hour
neared its end and the Dark lord still stayed like this, Harry began to feel
slight worry. He carefully tried to look for that place inside his mind where
their connection was, which never fully closed off during all this time. Well,
except for that one time, when the Dark Lord made a special effort to cut Harry
off during his supposed meeting with vampires the day before.
Harry felt a tiny shred of the other’s mind present inside his own conscious,
so he somewhat relaxed. Hopefully, this was the indication that Tom was
healing, and the Dark Lord would feel better upon his wake, Harry mused, his
tense pose slackening a notch.
Another hour passed in silence. Harry never left his post at the feet of the
bed, ignoring the numbness in his limbs and a nagging feeling of hunger slowly
growing in his empty stomach. When several minutes earlier he heard the knock
at the door and the Death Eater brought his food and potions, Harry sent him
away, taking only those vials, which he knew for certain he could drink
independently from a meal. He was in no mood for eating anyway, too worried
over the Dark Lord to digest anything.
While he was keeping his self-appointed vigil, Harry wondered when he began to
care about the Dark Lord so much. No, this was definitely not as simple as a
worry for the Dark Lord, Harry held no warm feelings towards Voldemort. But he
certainly cared for Tom, the father of his unborn babies. And he was absolutely
sure there was a difference between these two figures, at least in his mind.
Voldemort had put him into the dungeon, ordered to torture him and sent angry
headaches his way through their mental link, when he Crucio’ed somebody. Tom
held him tightly through the night, took his sickness upon himself, joked with
him and kissed him to calm his hormones down. Sighing, Harry winced at his own
sappy thoughts. But what he could do, if it was the truth?! He really was going
soft and turning into a hormonal pregnant woman from all of this!
Sniffing quietly, Harry shifted in his place and took out the Calming potion
from his inner pocket. He’d made sure it was constantly on him at all times now
and intentionally had put it inside his robe, after that incident at the garden
the day before. With a crooked smirk Harry inhaled some potion to calm down.
He was starting to seriously freak out now: the half of the third hour passed
and Tom still was lying motionlessly! What was worse, that tiny shard of his
mind, which Harry had felt earlier, suddenly retracted, leaving him painfully
empty and alone inside, even though physically he continued to sense the heat
of the body of unconscious Tom near him and continued to hear his slow and
uneven labored breathing.
===============================================================================
Almost five hours had gone from the moment Tom had fell unconscious, when he
finally stirred and moaned softly, waking Harry, who was nodding off, still
sitting at his perch in the feet of the bed.
“Harry?” Tom called out in hoarse and sleepy voice.
“Yeah. How are you feeling?” Harry straitened his legs with a low moan of his
own and dragged a hand down his face, trying to wake up.
“Have you been sitting like this the whole time?” avoiding answering his
question, inquired Tom in surprise.
“I don’t mind,” with dismissal replied Harry. “How are your wounds? Better?”
hope was obvious in his voice.
“I think so,” in unsure tone responded Tom. “At least, I don’t feel anything
anymore. Just numb and a bit sore,” he admitted. “What time is it?” for some
reason he didn’t took out his wand to cast Tempus.
Harry shrugged.
“Don’t know. Afternoon. You’ve slept for about five hours, I think. I don’t
have a watch or a wand, so – ” he trailed off meaningfully.
“Oh, right. Here,” Tom patted himself and raised a brow in surprise, finding
out he was still bare-chest, only bandages covering his torso. “Where had I
left my robes?” he mused.
“Bathroom, I suppose. I’ll bring them,” Harry got up, but almost fell on top of
Tom, his legs still numb from sitting so much time in one position. “Wow!
Sorry. Did I hit you?” he rushed to ask, when hearing low hiss of pain from
Tom.
“That’s alright,” Tom gritted through his teeth, wincing slightly. “Are you
okay?”
“My legs are numb after five hours of sitting,” Harry snorted. “That’s
nothing.” He got up again, careful not to lean on Tom’s wounded chest more.
“I’ll get your robes.”
“Just my wand will do. It should be in one of the pockets,” Tom clarified.
Harry nodded and went to retrieve his wand, returning in a minute.
“It’s not there,” in a surprised voice explained Harry. “Are you sure, it’s not
somewhere on you?” Tom swore under his breath and holding up his palm muttered
“Accio wand!” Nothing happened.
Harry raised an inquiring brow at that.
“What’s wrong?”
Tom furrowed.
“Don’t understand,” he grunted. “Accio wand!” he repeated with more force this
time. Again no wand came flying into his opened hand.
“Accio Voldemort’s wand!” now Harry tried, but to no avail. He certainly felt a
tingle of magic leaving his core in search of the object in question, but the
wisp of energy just dissipated into thin air.
“It’s protected from anyone but me summoning it,” not helping, supplied the
Dark Lord. “And with a Paseltongue spell, at that – ” he trailed off, slapping
his hand on his own forehead. “Fool,” he grumbled.
“Accio wand” the Paseltongue of the spell didn’t help either, his wand still
was nowhere to be seen. “Fuck,” Tom breathed out angrily.
“That’s not funny anymore,” Harry commented. “What are we going to do now?”
“We should do nothing,” the Dark Lord corrected him and sat up abruptly,
immediately doubling on himself in obvious pain and inhaling loudly, his face
scrunched in discomfort. “Bloody hell!” he gasped.
Harry rushed to his side with intent to help, but Tom held up a hand, which
shook involuntarily.
“I’m okay,” he gritted and slowly straitened his back, his movements tense.
“Blasted blood-suckers,” he grumbled. “I’m going to personally Crucio Avery for
this,” he added heatedly.
Harry felt an impeding headache.
‘How are you going to, without your wand?’ not hiding his own rising anger and
annoyance at the Dark Lord’s wrath, as well as his headache, inquired Harry
sarcastically through their mind-link. ‘Poke him with your bony finger until he
dies from tickles?’
The Dark Lord bared his teeth angrily at Harry.
‘Not funny,’ he responded curtly. Harry still managed to feel his chest
throbbing painfully along with Tom’s pulse, because their mental connection
lingered for another second or two, after Tom tried to cut Harry off from his
own conscious.
“Are you absolutely sure you haven’t left your wand somewhere in the Mansion
after your arrival? You were wounded,” Harry reminded Tom.
The Dark Lord shook his head minutely and glanced at the door in silent
contemplation.
“The door of this room is warded with Parsel, too. My wandless spell just now
might have tripped on the wards,” Tom mused and stood up, this time moving his
upper body more carefully.
He came to the door, opened it and looked out, scaring a Death Eater, who stood
guard on the other side.
Ignoring the Death Eater, the Dark Lord raised his hand and hissed the same
spell in Parseltongue, as before, summoning his stray wand. When nothing
happened again, he frowned and returned to the room.
Harry winced sympathetically.
“Maybe, you’ve managed to leave it at the vamp’s lair?” Harry supplied,
internally preparing himself for the upcoming storm.
Tom shrugged, immediately grinding his teeth from his own careless motion.
“Hope, not,” he grumbled. “It’d be too generous of a gift for the Master.”
At that moment they heard a noise coming from the corridor: something hit the
door violently and clattered onto the floor with an unmistakable wooden sound.
A tentative knock followed.
“What?!” the Dark Lord barked out annoyed.
The door opened, the scared Death Eater looking inside tentatively.
“My Lord, a wand just collided with your door,” he mumbled and gulped audibly,
seeing the Dark Lord stride to the door briskly, his face lighting up in joy
and with a satisfactory smirk on his lips.
Before the poor lad could flee, Voldemort reached the door, and his wand
consecutively, and, still smirking, picked it up, his movements jerky, and brow
furrowing from pain the action caused him. Not showing his discomfort openly in
front of the Death Eater, the Dark Lord caressed his wand longingly and without
any sort of warning pointed it at the Death Eater, who was still worriedly
looking at him.
“Crucio,” in a sing-song voice intoned the Dark Lord, grinning madly and
looking like a child, who finally managed to get his hands on his favorite toy
after a seriously long waiting.
The Death Eater fell to the floor screaming his lungs out.
Harry winced at the sound, but made no movement to interfere, clearly
understanding the Dark Lord’s joy and the extent of unbelievable stupidity of
the Death Eater’s actions. No wise man could have barged upon his Lord right
after seeing him in an obviously horrid mood and covered in bandages from head
to toe. Maybe a full two minutes of Crucio were a bit harsh as a punishment,
but Harry let the Dark Lord have his moment of entertainment for now.
Only when the Death Eater at the floor began frothing at his mouth quite
literary, the sounds of his screams turning completely animalistic, Harry’s
headache rising to an alarming level, he went up to the door and put a careful
hand over the Dark Lord’s, attempting to push down his wand and end the curse.
The Death Eater let out absolutely horrid scream at the moment Harry’s hand
covered Tom’s on the wand, their magic accidentally combining for a split
second, the Dark Lord’s intent dragging along energy from Harry’s magical core,
thanks to the weakened mental shields between them.
Tom inhaled sharply.
Harry felt a jolt of indecipherable emotion coming from him through their
mental link.
Their intertwined hands lowered, the movement finally ending the curse.
The Dark Lord unceremoniously pushed the tortured man over the threshold with
his foot to the man’s side and slammed the door shut.
Harry stumbled to the armchair and collapsed into it with a heavy sigh,
bringing his hands up and massaging his aching temples.
The Dark Lord remained near the door frozen, a thoughtful expression creeping
upon his face, which had paled drastically over the last couple of minutes.
“Do you realize, what had just happened?” he breathed out with an odd amusement
in his voice.
“We nearly killed the poor lad?” Harry supplied angrily. “Why didn’t you lower
your wand right away?” he grumbled distraught. “I never had any intention to
torture anyone, let alone – this particular man!” Harry cried out in
frustration.
Tom seemed to not comprehend what had upset Harry so much.
“Why are you angry?”
“Don’t you realize, what had just happened?” Harry parroted, even more furious
now.
Tom shook his head negatively, no trace of remorse or understanding in his
attentive gaze, which was directed towards Harry.
“Your unborn children just unknowingly participated in torturing someone!”
Harry whispered harshly, a single angry tear going down his cheek, which, in
contrast to Tom’s, was sickly gray.
His own words seemed to sink in Harry’s mind finally and he made a mad dash to
the bathroom, collapsing onto his knees in front of the toilet and vomiting
violently.
Tom came to the widely opened bathroom door, but made no attempt to enter,
looming at the entrance and looking at Harry with discomfiture.
“Don’t come near me,” Harry managed to snarl in between angry groans and sobs
shaking his whole body, while he was still bending over the toilet, his
sickness not subsiding even a notch.
This finally jerked Tom out of his trance.
Not heeding Harry’s request, which sounded more like a furious order, he
stepped over the threshold and towards Harry.
“Don’t touch me!” Harry shrieked in rage and again bent above the toilet.
And this order was ignored, too. Tom came closer to Harry and put a steady hand
on his back, rubbing it gently in circles.
Harry tried to shrug his hand off, but his sickness took over him, not giving
much room to argument.
When Harry finally reclined back, instinctively leaning on Tom’s legs with a
tired groan, Tom picked him up in his hands with a barely heard grunt, and
carried back to the room, even managing to grab a towel with one hand and water
it on his way. He deposited Harry on the ruffled bed and started to gently wipe
his face with a towel, still not issuing a word.
Harry had no energy left in him to protest, so he simply allowed this tentative
care for a while. When his shivering subsided and headache eased slightly, some
color returning to his face, Harry angrily pushed Tom’s hand with an almost
dried towel away, the motion successfully knocking the kneeling Dark Lord down
onto the floor.
“What was that for?” Tom grumbled under his breath.
“You deserve this and more for that stunt with a wand!” Harry snapped, his eyes
flashing angrily.
Tom sat up with a sigh.
“Explain, please. I don’t understand,” he pleaded.
Harry shook his head furiously.
“If you don’t understand, nothing I could say would sink in!”
“Harry, please – ”
“Did you not hear what I said earlier? Our magic combined for a moment there,
when you were eagerly torturing that man! The magic of the twins was in, too!
And you’re glad for that, don’t you?!”
Tom recoiled.
“I would never allow – ”
“But you just did!!! If you lowered your wand – Hell, if you just lifted the
curse earlier – !”
“Harry, I – ”
“Listen to yourself,” Harry whispered hoarsely. “It’s always ‘I’, ‘me’ – ” He
shook his head exasperated. “Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? Of our
children?” his voice went deadly low. “I think I miss on today’s dinner. Not
hungry for some reason.” Harry grumbled suddenly and turned on his side and
away from Tom, who was still sitting on the floor with head lowered.
With a tired sigh Harry closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep, but it
didn’t come.
===============================================================================
When Snape, as usual, arrived that evening, he came upon the strange sight:
Harry was lying on the bed, with his back to the Dark Lord, who was sitting on
the floor, leaning on the bed, in a clearly uncomfortable position, his own
back tense and rigid, with an air of remorse to his persona, longingly looking
with pleading blood-shot eyes at Harry’s turned back.
Thinking, that he’d never seen the Dark Lord in a more degrading position,
Snape carefully knocked on the opened door, announcing his presence.
“May I?” he whispered, assuming from Harry’s posture, that the boy was
sleeping.
The Dark Lord waved a hand in a lifeless gesture, his eyes not leaving the form
on the bed for even a second.
Snape quietly entered the room.
“What did you want?” the Dark Lord asked lowly in a toneless voice.
“Potions,” reminded him Snape. “And that report.”
“Later,” came an impassive voice. “Don’t put it with the others.”
“What about the dinner?” Snape inquired. “Should I cancel it?”
“No. We might be late a little, though,” the Dark Lord let out a shaky breath.
“If this is all, you may go.”
“My Lord, what about magic for the babies?” Snape dared to ask.
There was a loud sigh, but the sound came not from the Dark Lord.
Harry turned to lay on his back and looked at Snape.
“Evening, Severus,” he murmured in soft voice. “Did you bring me another batch
of your poisons?” Harry gave him a small lopsided smile. “I wonder if there is
one for stupid stubborn Dark Lords among them?” he shot a nasty glare at the
said Dark Lord.
“What did he do this time?” ignoring the man in question, Snape raised a
curious brow.
“Did you happen to stumble upon the dead body beyond our threshold?” Harry
retorted. “No? I hoped, there isn’t one, but still – ” he shrugged
uncomfortably. “We might have accidentally made another Death Eater into raving
mad lunatic with the help of a combined Crucio feeding on both our magic and on
babies’, too,” Harry fumed. “And this idiot here had the audacity to be glad
about it!” Harry rubbed his face with forceful gesture. “Do you still not
understand what’s you done wrong?” he turned his gaze to the Dark Lord, his
fury suddenly returning and a burst of his angry magic lashing out at everyone
in the room in scalding hot waves. The temperature in the room dropped in mere
seconds, the glass on the window darkening with frost.
“Harry, you do realize, that’s not very good for the babies?” Snape admonished
him with worry in his voice.
“He’d done it several times already,” the Dark Lord said impassively, not one
muscle twitching, despite the obvious discomfort, which such abrupt changes of
the temperature had caused to his half-naked body.
“And participating in torture is good for them?!” Harry shrieked, his eyes
ablaze with fury. A split second later the fire roared wildly: under Harry’s
angry gaze the floor board just shy of the Dark Lord’s knees lighting from a
wandless magic outburst. What was curious, despite his clear rage, Harry seemed
reluctant to directly attack the father of his children with his magic, even if
the magical outburst looked like it was uncontrolled.
Snape noticed that half the room seemed like an old battlefield with several
black burnt-out spots on the floor, on the walls and on some of the furniture
pieces. One particular spot on the wall was in the form of a rough man figure,
looking like someone had made the coal sketch of the outlines of the body,
suspiciously similar to that of the Dark Lord.
“Harry – ” Severus was not sure himself, what he was going to say, what he
could say to calm this furious storm of fluctuating emotions down and not
become another target. There was no need to invent anything: the bonfire,
crackling merrily at the Dark Lord’s feet just moments ago, abruptly dissipated
with a low hiss, the wooden floor-boards creaking under the growing frost-path
rapidly crawling towards Voldemort. The climate changed again, making Snape
shiver from cold. The Dark Lord’s body trembled, though he seemed not to notice
it, too immersed in his self-appointed watch.
Harry let out a long tired sigh and laid down in almost liquid motion, this
time not turning away from the other men in the room.
‘I suggest you put something on. Don’t scare poor Sev with your very human and
very cold body, will you? Pardon me, but I don’t have the strength to look for
a clear shirt for you right now,’ Harry sent a sarcastic mental jab Tom’s way.
‘We are still expected at your so-called informal dinner, as I understand.’
Tom sighed quietly and slowly raised to his feet. Throwing a sideways glance at
Harry, he went to the wardrobe, his movements jerky and rigid.
Snape carefully stepped closer to the bed and held out several colorful vials
with potions to Harry, one after the other.
“You might want to drink these, as well,” he suggested, adding two other small
bottles to the customary batch of medicine. “That’s mild Calming Draught. I
consulted with Algie earlier, you may consume it sometimes, just don’t make a
habit of it. And this one is Magic Replenishment. My Lord, I advise you to
drink one, too,” looking at the Dark Lord with a carefully blank expression,
added Snape.
Voldemort gave out a jerky nod and came to the Potions Master, holding out his
empty hand.
“May I inquire, if you have some Blood Replenishment potion with you too,
Severus?” the voice of the Dark Lord was polite, low and toneless, as if he
didn’t truly care if he get the potion or not, asking just in case he could get
one, but not really needing it.
Harry raised a silent brow upon hearing that, the gesture almost identical to
the one Snape would gladly show, if it was not the Dark Lord asking the
question.
“Certainly, my Lord,” producing the required potion from his pocket, replied
Snape.
The Dark Lord took the vial and, briefly glancing at Harry for some reason,
drank it.
“Severus, you may go to the dinner, we will arrive shortly,” with a wave of his
hand Voldemort sent Snape away.
As soon, as the door closed behind the Potions Master, Harry stepped up to the
Dark Lord with a mildly annoyed expression. All he did though was to smooth
down some wrinkles on the other’s shirt silently.
‘You are still angry at me,’ the Dark Lord deduced mentally.
Harry scoffed at that.
‘I will remain angry until you understand the reason behind my anger,’ Harry
retorted. ‘As for now, we have a social affair to attend,’ he winced, ‘which
happens to be important for both our magic, as well as for your future heirs’
health. So I’ll drop the matter for now.’
Sighing, Harry went to the wardrobe, too.
“Need help?” offered Tom in a neutral tone, seeing Harry critically assessing
several items of clothing for their fitness for his small frame.
“Please,” Harry grumbled reluctantly, giving the pair of black trousers and the
simple white shirt to him.
Tom slowly took out his wand and traced the outlines of the clothes with the
tip of it, mumbling a quiet incantation under his breath.
“Here.”
“Thanks.”
“Shall we?” Tom offered Harry his hand, after they both dressed and freshened
up in bathroom, one after the other.
Harry let out yet another sigh but accepted the offered hand. They left the
room.
End Notes
     The usual applies: English is not my native language, though I am
     quite confident in using it.
     I have beta, but we're still stuck on one of the other fics (more
     like I am stuck XD), so this fic again goes to the long que to be
     edited. I will put a note when posting the edited version. So stay
     tuned ;-)
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