Chapter Text
Harry was curled up inside the Weasley's magical tent in the Forest of Dean, silent tears slipping down his cheeks.
Hermione had left with Ron. His best friends since he was eleven had abandoned him because living in a tent was hard. As if either of them knew anything about hard. They were never beaten, starved, or forced to sleep in a cupboard.
'What do they really have to complain about? The fact that they don't get to have their own way? That they didn't always have the food they wanted?'
His life had never been his own. Freak. That's what he had been called before Harry Potter. Freak. And honestly he'd rather go back to being 'Freak' than keep being 'Harry Potter'. Because being Harry Potter wasn't something to be jealous of. He was their golden boy one minute and an attention-seeking, lying brat the next.
Harry was so tired. Tired of having no control. Tired of people judging him and his actions. Tired of people only caring when he was famous. Tired of always having to take control and do everything himself and getting no appreciation for it.
But most of all, he was tired of living.
Tears fell silently, staining his shirt and the blanket beneath him. His chest felt tight and his eyes burned, but he made no noise. He had learned long ago to cry silently, so Dudley wouldn't find him and torment him.
He was just so tired.
The darkness inside him, the darkness that had always been there, had grown, eating away at him from the inside.
Harry closed his eyes, wishing he could sleep, but he knew the nightmares would wake him. He had barely slept at all since the end of fifth year. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Sirius fall through the Veil.
He had nightmares of Cedric, the Basilisk, Dementors, his parents dying, Bellatrix laughing, and so many other things. But the one thing he never had nightmares of was Voldemort. Tom.
Tears flowed more heavily as he thought of the handsome boy he'd met in the diary in his second year. The boy had understood him more than anyone he'd ever know. Tom had been treated the same at Wool's orphanage as he'd been at the Dursley's. He was the only person that truly understood him.
"I wish you were still here."
His chest hurt and he curled in on himself, burying his face in his knees, and wished for Tom, wished that his godfather had never gone after Peter, that Cedric was still alive, that Hermione and Ron had never left. He wished that he had someone to hold him.
"I'm here." A smooth, cultured voice said.
Harry's head snapped up, eyes wide and searching, looking for the source of the voice. It couldn't be real... He'd destroyed the diary...
"Tom?"
The locket on the small table next to the bed opened with a soft, hissing click. Smoke billowed from the open locked and solidified into the form of a young man in his mid-twenties. It was Tom... but older and he was so handsome.
His eyes were the color of freshly spilled blood instead of the grey they'd been when he was a Hogwarts student but age had sharpened his features, making them even more beautiful than before.
Tom smiled warmly, walking towards the bed.
Harry's lower lip quivered, tears continuing to flow.
"What's wrong, sweetling?" Tom's voice was smooth, deep, and soft.
"...I'm alone... Why does everyone always leave me?" Harry whimpered, his voice cracking.
"You're not alone, darling." Tom sat on the bed, reaching out and touching Harry's tear-stained cheek. "I'm right here."
Harry sobbed, pressing into the touch. "How are you here?"
"You know what I am darling. I'm a Horcrux and much like the diary I can take this form with enough magic. I'm sorry I couldn't show you sooner my sweet but with those two around..."
"H-how did you know about the diary...?" Harry sniffled.
"Darling, I know everything about you. You took a piece of my soul inside of you when you were a baby sweetling, I connected to it when you first put on the locket and I was able to see your entire life through your eyes. I've been there through everything. Every beating, every time they starved you, every nightmare."
Harry looked at him, eyes wide as a small spark of hope flickered inside him.
"I'm a... Horcrux." Harry whispered, feeling his heart skip a beat at the confession.
"That's right sweetling." Tom said silkily, stroking his hair before frowning a bit. "Would you like me to spell your hair longer darling? I know how much you like having long hair and I'd love to play with it."
Harry blushed, nodding shyly. "I... I would like that. I like having long hair. The Dursley's never let me grow it out."
"May I use your wand?"
Harry nodded again, pulling his wand from the pocket of his jeans and handing it to the older man.
"Vainus." Tom said softly, running his fingers through Harry's short, spiky black hair.
As Tom's fingers touched his scalp, his hair grew, the black tresses falling in gentle waves around his face, before continuing to grow until it fell in silky curls to mid-thigh.
Harry closed his eyes, a tiny moan slipping past his lips as he pressed his head into the hand stroking his hair.
Tom smirked a little, his fingers brushing through the hair at the base of his neck. "There we are. Long and pretty."
Harry shivered, leaning into him, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. "I-I feel so..."
"So what sweetling?"
"Warm... safe... I don't know how to explain it."
"You don't have to explain, I know what you're feeling darling. It's the small piece of soul inside you. You feel complete when I'm with you." Tom purred, stroking his back.
"Y-yes, exactly."
"You don't have to pretend anymore sweetheart. It's just us now. No one will bother you again."
Harry trembled, turning and wrapping his arms around him, his face buried in the hollow between his neck and shoulder.
"It's alright Harry, you're not alone."
Harry began to sob, his body shaking.
"Oh darling..." Tom crooned holding him close, gently rubbing his back.
Harry clung to him, crying softly, feeling something deep inside him uncoil.
"You're so precious." Tom whispered, running his fingers through the black locks. "So perfect and sweet. And you're mine."
"I-I'm yours."
"That's right sweetling. You're mine." Tom whispered, nuzzling him.
Harry snuggled close, relaxing into the warmth of the older man's body before drifting off to sleep, a small smile on his face.
Tom watched him, smirking softly softly.
"Sweet dreams darling."
✤✤✤
Tom carefully tucked his little Horcrux into the bed after he transfigured it into something far more fitting than the ratty cot and hideous orange quilt. He covered his sleeping Horcrux with the thick emerald green blankets, making sure his precious boy was nice and snug, before conjuring thick velvet curtains around the bed, closing his boy in.
He smiled, smoothing the blankets over the small form. His little Horcrux was absolutely beautiful. Perfect. A vicious smirk curved his lips. He'd make sure his little Horcrux got everything he ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed of. After all, his little Horcrux would rule by his side as his Dark Lady once he contacted the main soul.
That fool Dumbledore hadn't even realized what a rare gem the last Potter was or if he had he was a fool to hide it from him. His little Horcrux was a Submissive Wizard. The first to be born in the last 600 years.
He had an extremely rare and very coveted status in the wizarding world. When Submissives bonded with a Witch or Wizard, their magical core would bind itself to their Dominant's. The bonded pair would be stronger and more powerful than any other, especially a Dominant/Submissive pair.
And his sweet, precious little Horcrux had a very powerful Dominant in him. He was a bit put out that he'd have to be reabsorbed with the main soul to be able to bond with his darling but it would be worth it.
He made his way out of the shabby tent to the clearing and raised the brother wand to his and summoned the main soul and their most trusted death eaters. Lucius, Bella, Rabastian, Rodolphus and Barty.
They appeared quickly, his death eaters kneeling while Voldemort stared at him coolly from a frankly hideous looking snake-like face and he wrinkled his nose.
"Lord Voldemort, it's been far too long." Tom said smoothly, a smirk on his face.
"I must say it has been some time since I saw that face in the mirror. Where are we Locket? What is important enough that you stole enough magic for this form?" He hissed.
"We have an eighth Horcrux. A living Horcrux." He purred silkily.
"Who?" Voldemort demanded.
"Harry James Potter." He said with relish. Bella, upon hearing that, exploded in rage.
"HOW?! HOW IS ITTY BITTY BABY POTTER WORTHY OF SUCH AN HONOR?! HE SHOULD BE DEAD! HASN'T HE CAUSED US ENOUGH TROUBLE?!" She screamed; her wand raised.
Voldemort and Tom both waved a hand and she fell silent.
"It would be foolish to kill our Horcrux. Even more foolish to kill the first Submissive Wizard born in 600 years. He is more valuable than anything or anyone."
"A Submissive?" Lucius breathed, looking rather stunned while Voldemort's eyes narrowed and a chilling grin curled his thin lips.
"You may leave us." He ordered.
Tom and Voldemort watched as the death eaters left the clearing, disapparating away.
"How do you plan to bind him to you?" Voldemort asked, his serpentine gaze calculating.
"Our sweet Submissive already has." He crooned, sounding ridiculously pleased. "He fell for us when he had the Diary as a child, the poor darling was heartbroken when he found out who we were but the light has betrayed him too many times. All we need to do is reunite the other Horcruxes with you and complete the bond. We can finally be whole and he will be ours forever."
"Yes, yes. He will." Voldemort purred, grinning widely. "Oh if only Dumbledore was here to see his precious savior being bonded to me."
"Yes. And he will rule by your side as your Dark Lady."