Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6356827.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Voldemort
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Ron_Weasley, Hermione_Granger, Albus_Dumbledore, Voldemort
  Additional Tags:
      Demon!Harry_-_Freeform, Dark!Harry, Chan, Alternate_Universe, Demonic
      Possession, Rough_Sex, Anal_Sex, Dark_Magic, magic_kink
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-26 Words: 2961
****** Only Recourse ******
by reeby10
Summary
     Harry’s been acting odd lately. He doesn’t react well to Dumbledore’s
     idea of fixing him.
Notes
     Originally posted here for the 2016 round of HP_Kink-n-Squick.
     Thank you to BE for the beta! Hope you like it :)
     Warning: This fic contains explicit sexual content with an underage
     participant (13 years old). It could also be considered dub-con or
     non-con as Harry is possessed by a demon and the status of the real
     Harry is never addressed. Please read at your own discretion.
See the end of the work for more notes
Harry carefully didn’t look over when Ron elbowed Hermione, eyes glancing to
Harry quite unsubtly. The same sort of thing had been going on for weeks, ever
since the start of term, but Harry was starting to think it might turn into a
problem rather than just a vague annoyance.
“He’s doing it again,” Ron hissed, and Hermione just huffed, not looking up
from her essay. That seemed to annoy Ron because he elbowed her again.
“Will you stop?” Hermione snapped, voice low. “I’m busy!”
“I’m tellin’ you, he’s being weird again,” Ron replied, eyes darting to Harry
again. Harry had to bite down on a grin when he saw the unease bordering on
fear there. “We’ve gotta… I dunno, tell someone.”
Hermione sighed, setting her quill down. She glanced up at Harry, watching him
for several long moments, then leaned in close to Ron. “Alright,” she agreed,
her voice sounding tight. “He is… different I’ll admit. Maybe we should tell
Dumbledore.”
“Yeah!” Ron said, just a bit too loud. He quickly hunched in on himself, gaze
darting around the common room. No one had noticed except for Harry, though of
course Ron didn’t know that. “Tomorrow?”
“I suppose. Now, let me get back to my essay,” Hermione said, picking her quill
back up, eyes already glued to the piece of parchment in front of her. “And I’d
advise you to do the same!”
                                      ***
Ron and Hermione were just as conspicuous with their worry and suspicions the
next day. Harry continued to pretend he didn’t notice the looks and the
whispering, but he could tell it was finally building up to something by the
way they both kept their eyes on Dumbledore during breakfast and lunch. It was
exhausting to watch them dither, so Harry decided to give them the chance to
get things over with.
“Hey, I’m gonna go talk to Professor McGonagall about my last essay,” Harry
said as they left their last class of the day. “I’ll meet you for dinner,
yeah?”
Hermione nodded, looking relieved. “Sure, Harry, good luck.”
They said their goodbyes and headed in opposite directions, Harry back toward
the Transfiguration classroom and Ron and Hermione toward Gryffindor tower. At
the end of the corridor, just out of sight of the other two, Harry doubled back
around and began following them. At the end of the next corridor, they two
turned in the opposite direction of the tower. Toward Dumbledore’s office, just
as Harry had suspected they would.
It was surprisingly easy to follow them without being noticed even with the
nervous glances they kept tossing around. Harry just stayed in the shadows,
close enough to see them but not close enough that his footsteps would be
heard. Once they got to the staircase, he had to be a little more sneaky.
Thankfully, he was far stronger than any of them knew, and a disillusionment
charm was practically child’s play. Hidden from sight, Harry followed them up
the stairs to the door of Dumbledore’s office and stepped as far into the
shadows as he could.
“Come in,” Dumbledore called cheerfully not a moment after Ron and Hermione
stopped in front of the door. The two glanced at each other but pushed open the
door and entered.
As the door closed behind them, Harry stepped up to it, casting a spell to
allow him to hear inside more clearly. He’d thought about going in as well, but
for as powerful as he was, he would rather not risk Dumbledore sensing
something amiss. It was better to wait where he was and observe from there.
“Ah, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, wonderful to see you,” Dumbledore said. “May I
offer you a lemon drop?”
“No, thank you, professor,” Hermione replied politely, but even from outside
Harry could hear the tension in her voice. “We actually needed to talk with you
about something important.”
“This is about our dear Mr. Potter, isn’t it?” Dumbledore said, voice grave.
“Yes, I think it’s time we addressed that. You’ve noticed changes in him,
haven’t you?”
Harry couldn’t see, but he assumed they nodded their assent, because a moment
later they were telling Dumbledore about their observations, about how Harry
had become cruel, about how there was a darkness about him that hadn’t been
there before, about how they were afraid of the things they saw and heard and
felt. It made Harry smile, a bit impressed and amused that his two little
friends had been so observant.
“I fear this is… worse than I originally thought,” Dumbledore said heavily once
the two concluded. Faintly, Harry could hear him flipping the pages of
something that sounded like a very large, very old book. “Yes… yes, I’m afraid
so. That poor, poor boy. Only thirteen and such a hard life already...”
“What is it, professor?” Ron asked, anxiety clear in his voice.
There was silence for a long moment, then Dumbledore heaved a great sigh. “I
believe Mr. Potter has been possessed by a demon,” he said lowly.
Ron and Hermione both began to speak at once, strained voices overlapping so
much that even Harry could barely make them out. He pressed a little closer to
the door, trying to hear clearly, as Dumbledore attempted to calm them. Finally
they both fell silent, but even from outside the door, Harry could practically
feel the tension in the room.
“What are we going to do?” Hermione asked tentatively. Ron murmured his
agreement.
“It’s impossible to tell how long the demon has been there, though I’m
hopefully it has only been since summer,” Dumbledore began slowly, obviously
still thinking. “That will work in our favor, though it is yet to be seen if
Mr. Potter is even still in there somewhere. In any case, we must perform an
exorcism.”
“An exorcism!” Ron yelped. “Those… that’s dark magic!”
“Sometimes it becomes necessary to-- how do they say it?-- fight fire with
fire, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore replied solemnly. “It is our only recourse now.”
“What do we need to do?” Hermione asked after another moment of heavy silence.
Harry decided not to stay and find out the answer. He needed to get away before
they came looking for him, because as strong as he was, he was quite sure the
three of them would find a way to banish him if they tried. He couldn’t give
them that opportunity.
                                      ***
It didn’t take Harry as long as he’d feared to find the place. That was
probably because it was so soaked in dark magic that it practically acted as a
beacon for anyone sensitive enough. He grinned as he approached the manor,
licking his lips subconsciously at the beautiful feel of power dancing over his
skin.
He slipped in the front door, ignoring the buzz that warned him to stay away,
that he wasn’t wanted. That might be true at the moment, but he knew it
wouldn’t stay true. He had a proposition that he knew wouldn’t be denied.
“H- Harry Potter!” a rattish looking man squeaked, stepping out of a room
further in the house and freezing when he saw Harry. “What are y- you doing
here?”
Harry grinned, loving the way it made the man flinch back against the wall,
eyes darting upward almost frantically. The man might look stupid, but it
seemed he did have some survival instincts. Good for him.
“I’m here to speak to your master,” Harry said. “I take it he’s upstairs?”
“Y- yes, but-!” the man tried to say, flinching again as Harry breezed past him
without another word. There wasn’t anything more Harry felt the need to say to
a mere servant, it would only be a waste of breathe. Besides, he was quite
anxious to get on with his mission.
The stairs to go upstairs were dilapidated and musty, obviously held together
more with magic than anything else. Harry sneered a little, unimpressed, but
continued on. The decor really wasn’t a concern, not with all the power and
magic he could feel focused upstairs. That was far more important.
He stepped into a room that was probably meant to be the library, though few of
the shelves actually held books anymore, just cobwebs and dust. He smiled as he
saw the man waiting for him at the desk by the far wall, wand next to him but
not threatening. Harry hoped that meant he had some idea of what was coming,
because that would make things much easier.
“Potter,” Voldemort greeted, red eyes staring unblinkingly from a serpentine
face as Harry approached.
“Lord Voldemort,” Harry returned, inclining his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet
you.”
“Yes, I don’t suppose you’re quite the boy I’ve faced before, are you?”
Voldemort said, voice hissing a little. It made a pleasant shiver crawl up
Harry’s spine.
“Not quite,” Harry replied with a smile. He took the last step forward until he
was at the edge of the desk, only two feet of space separating them. The magic
was even stronger in this room, making him a little light headed. “But I think
we’ll get on much better this way.”
“Will we now? No matter who or what you are, I could just kill you now.”
Harry smirked. “But you won’t,” he said confidently. “I’m far too valuable to
you alive now, especially since you’ve already managed to get yourself a new
body. Killing me would be a waste.”
“Hmm.”
“We’re on the same side, you must see that,” Harry continued, watching for the
smallest reaction from the wizard before him. So far it looked positive. “The
light, Albus Dumbledore, is our common enemy. We should be working together
against him. And I think we could be… good together if we tried.”
Voldemort seemed to consider that, eyes roving up and down Harry’s body in
interest. It might not have been the first or best choice as far as appealing
bodies for possession went, but Harry was quite confident in his ability to use
his body to get what he wanted, which right now was enticing the Dark Lord
himself. He leaned against the desk, slim hip cocked out, and grinned at the
way it made Voldemort’s eyes darken.
“Let me show you how good we could be,” Harry whispered, changing position to
lean forward until there were scant inches between them. He breathed in deeply,
eyes fluttering shut as magic swelled around him.
“Yes,” Voldemort said thoughtfully, “you may have a point. After all, it isn’t
every day I manage to get a demon on my side. Or in my bed.”
Before Harry could reply, Voldemort rose and came around the desk, robes
swirling around his tall, lean form. Harry grinned, letting himself be pressed
up against the edge of the desk, practically boxed in by the much taller body.
Even for a thirteen year old, Harry was small, and this only emphasized his
short stature.
“You do want to be in my bed, don’t you?” Voldemort asked, making it sound like
he didn’t care either way. Harry was almost sure he didn’t.
“In bed with the Dark Lord?” Harry asked, leaning upward until his lips almost
touched the slit of Voldemort’s mouth. This close, he could practically taste
the dark magic and for the first time since he’d taken this form, he felt he’d
made the right choice. “Of course.”
“Good,” Voldemort replied, and without another word he pressed their mouths
together.
Harry surged into the kiss, moaning as a hand reached down and squeezed his
ass, pushing them as close together as it was possible to be while still
wearing clothes. They were grinding together, panting into each other’s mouths,
hands pulling at robes. Magic sang around them, but their wands were forgotten
in the desperate need to get closer, to feel more. It was amazing.
“How about a bed?” Harry gasped out as Voldemort’s mouth moved to his neck,
split tongue flickering enticingly at his pulse point.
“I think the desk will suffice,” Voldemort said with one last nip at the
fragile skin of Harry’s neck. He pulled away just far enough to manhandle Harry
until he was face down on the desk before pressing back in, cock a hot line
against Harry’s ass.
It made Harry arch back, moaning at the contact. “That all you got, old man?”
Voldemort didn’t bother answering. Harry’s robes were already hanging
precariously from his shoulders, and it didn’t take much for Voldemort to pull
them off and toss them to the side, leaving Harry naked. It was cool in the
room, making Harry shiver, and didn’t help that Voldemort seemed to run many
degrees cooler than was normal. He knew, though, that it would be worth it.
“You are quite the prize,” Voldemort murmured, trailing pale hands down Harry’s
flanks and around to his stomach. He dug his nails in just at the hip juncture,
not hard enough to break the skin but plenty hard enough for Harry to feel the
sharp bursts of pain. “I think I will enjoy this little… arrangement.”
“I think we’d both enjoy it much more if you’d just hurry up,” Harry griped,
grinding his ass backward. The move made Voldemort hiss, which in turn made
Harry grin. It was about time the older wizard got as worked up as he was.
“Patience, my sweet,” Voldemort said, and Harry could feel the smile as
Voldemort leaned forward to trail biting kisses down his back. “All good things
come to those who wait.”
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but whatever he might have said was cut off
when a slick finger slid down the crack of his ass and pressed at his hole. He
pushed into it, trying to encourage Voldemort further, and it seemed to work.
The finger slipped inside, pumping only a few times before a second slipped
inside as well and they began to quickly stretch him.
The burn was just this side of painful, but Harry didn’t care. He knew even
before they got this far that sex with Voldemort was likely to involve some
pain, mostly on his end. It was just who they were, creatures of dark magic
with a penchant for causing pain. In the end, it would still be more pleasure
than anything else.
Voldemort didn’t bother with more than a few minutes of rough stretching, and
Harry was honestly too wound up to worry about the lack of proper lubrication.
He focused instead on looking over his shoulder to see Voldemort pull his own
robes off almost as an afterthought, long fingers wrapped around his cock. He
moved forward until his knuckles were brushing Harry’s ass cheeks, leaning down
for a sloppy kiss.
“Are you ready?” Voldemort asked, but he didn’t bother waiting for an answer.
His cock pressed at Harry’s hole, a moment of pressure before it slid in.
Harry gasped at the harsh burn of friction, hips automatically twitching back
even through the pain. He shifted a little until his top half was laying more
fully on the desk, leaving his ass at the perfect angle for the taller man to
begin thrusting. Their rhythm picked up almost immediately, fast and rough. The
magic in the air swirled in tandem with their movements, so good Harry wasn’t
quite sure he’d survive such an onslaught.
A hand snaked its way around his waist, grabbing hold of his sadly neglected
cock and tugging it along with the move of their hips. Harry moaned, a high,
breathy sound, and pressed his face into the desk. It took only a few strokes
before he was coming all over the edge of the desk, body shaking through an
almost painfully intense orgasm. He felt amazing, and he was actually quite
impressed that he’d managed to hold out from coming for so long. Thirteen year
old boys weren’t exactly known for their stamina.
Even as Harry recovered, breath ragged and body singing, Voldemort continued to
thrust, bony hips pressing into Harry’s at an almost bruising pace. Harry
pushed back into it, ignoring the tug of exhaustion, and concentrated on
flexing his inner muscles, grinning at the hiss that elicited. He could tell
the older wizard was almost there by the erratic spikes of magic.
“Yes,” Harry groaned out as Voldemort’s hips stuttered to a halt as he came.
Somehow it was almost as intense to feel Voldemort come in him, practically
surrounding him with his body, as it had been to come himself.
Voldemort’s head came down to rest on Harry’s shoulder, breath puffing out
against his shoulder, and they stayed like that for several minutes while they
recovered. As the feel of magic evened out, Voldemort pulled out, making Harry
hiss at the renewed burn in his asshole. Over his shoulder, Harry saw Voldemort
smirk, and he had to bite back on the rather childish urge to stick his tongue
out. He might be in the body of a thirteen year old, but that didn’t mean he
had to act like it.
“That was rather pleasurable,” Voldemort said, picking his wand up from where
it had rolled to the side of the desk. With a quick wave, they were both
dressed again, and even the busted seams of Harry’s robes were repaired.
“It was, wasn’t it?” Harry replied with a pleased grin. “I told you we’d be
good together.”
“So you did,” Voldemort said, inclining his head. He eyed Harry for a long
moment, and Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering what the Dark Lord planned to do
now. “I believe you also said something about that fool Dumbledore. Perhaps
it’s time to make some plans?”
Harry’s grin sharpened into something far more vicious, and he was pleased to
see the look reflected on Voldemort’s face. “Yes,” he said, “I think it is.”
End Notes
     Concrit welcome. If you like my fic, come chat with me on_tumblr or
     maybe buy_me_a_coffee.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!