Chapter Text
"Harry, have you thought about what I said? I know it's perfectly horrible to think about, but you have to admit that it's possible!"
Of course, he'd thought about it. He'd thought about little else since Hermione had suggested it. The freezing cold forest they were camped in didn't offer much in the way of distractions.
"I have. And yes."
"Yes?"
"Yeah. I reckon I'm a horcrux."
Hermione gaped at him, maybe at his total lack of reaction, but what was he supposed to do about it? He was tired, missing his best mate, and had no clue what to do now.
"Well, don't go getting any ideas. We can figure this out - there must be a way to remove it."
"Hermione, I have literally no ideas about anything."
Suddenly, an idea struck him.
"Except... to taunt Voldemort about what an idiot he's been, trying to kill his own horcrux that he didn't even know he had."
"THAT may be the worst plan you've ever had, Harry Potter."
"Could be, yeah. Are you going to help me?"
Bless Hermione, the sister he never had. She sighed, closed the book she'd read for the hundredth time, and replied.
"Of course, I am."
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Christmas morning, the Witches and Wizards in Godric's Hollow gathered around a large poster board that had been charmed to float in midair. On it, it an untidy scrawl of writing was:
To the Dark Lord
Roses are Red
Your eyes are too
And probably your face
When you realize
There's 8 in your crew
In committing that taboo
You can no long feel
That I have a piece, fool
Not 7, but 8
And the one I carry
Has almost been destroyed
By none other than you
Did you not think our connection strange?
This is the question you didn't pursue?
How sad you may die
If you kill me too
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"He's definitely going to kill us now." Hermione commented as they left the village.
"Hm, I don't think so. He's all about self-preservation. He'll probably try to lock me in a cage or something."
"Well, THAT'S better." She answered sarcastically.
"I mean, if it had a computer, a television, and a video game system..."
Hermione smacked him on the arm, but it got him a smile at least. He'd seen precious few of those since Ron left. They apparated away, and the next day, in his opinion, his risky move had already paid off. Ron heard about the poem and knew they had done it. It made him think about them, and somehow the light inside the deluminator thing led him to Harry and Hermione. He was a bit fuzzy on the details, but he only cared that Ron was back. He also found Godric Gryffindor's sword at the bottom of a frozen lake.
He COULD have destroyed the locket with it right then and there, but he decided to wait. Maybe Voldemort would be willing to trade for it. It's not like Harry could destroy ALL of the horcruxes now unless he offed himself. When Ron had asked about the poem and they'd explained, his best mate had told him the same thing as Hermione: don't do anything stupid. Godric, did they think he was going to AK himself on the spot?
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"A response! Ladies and gentlemen, old moldyfarts does indeed answer the fan mail of good boys and girls!"
"Right you are, Rapier. In response to the cryptic message found in Godric's Hollow a few days ago, the Chief Death Eater put out a full-page advert in the Daily Prophet."
"Oooh oh, what did it say?"
Ron and Hermione were staring at him now, eyes wide with worry as they listened to Potterwatch.
"The usual megalomaniac ramble, BUT there was also an offer in there. He invited Potter out for a butterbeer, basically. Said they could talk. Asked about a necklace. Does this sound to anyone else like our Dark Tyrant is trying to WOO the Boy Who Lived? Yuck!"
Harry glared at his friends as they laughed. How ridiculous! Of course, he wasn't trying to WOO Harry.
"Obviously Potter would have to have lost the plot entirely to actually accept and think he won't immediately be AKed. It is strange though, that sources inside the Ministry are saying that orders have changed, and that Potter and anyone he's found with is to be taken unharmed."
The gasps from his friends was nothing compared to the odd ringing Harry was experiencing in his ears. Harry AND anyone he was with? So, Hermione and Ron would be safe now...? No. Do NOT buy into this, Harry James Potter.
"Well. I'll send him a response, but we aren't going anywhere near him until we figure out a new plan, ok?"
His friends nodded, still looking shocked. Harry didn't blame them; he needed a lie down too.
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To The Dark Lord
Yes I have it
Yes it is safe
No I won't meet you
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His latest message was a lot more to the point, but it said everything he needed to. He knew precisely when Voldemort got word of it too, because the boiling anger nearly split his head open. They had managed to get to Hogsmeade and were smuggled into the castle by Dumbledore's brother. Talking to Neville and the other students about what Hogwarts was like now just solidified his decision.
They decided to sleep in the Room of Requirement that night after discussing how to get the Death Eaters out of the castle. Neville wanted to go with a straight up war like approach. Hermione said this was suicide, and they should attempt some sort of trap. Ron had the best idea in Harry's opinion: go about in the invisibility cloak and knock the Death Eaters out one by one. They ended up debating late into the night, saying they'd take a vote the next day. Harry was not about to leave his classmates here under the wands of sadists.
Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he was jolted awake by a vision.
Voldemort was sitting, regal and calm in elaborate black and silver robes on a grand throne in an empty room. He did not try to pretend like this was an actual thing happening, like when he drew Harry to the Ministry with the vision of Sirius. He looked forward, as if into a camera.
"Come now, my horcrux. Why tell me so much if you did not intend to bargain? Send me a message, privately. Tell me what you want. Lord Voldemort can be generous, especially to that which is mine."
The hungry gleam in Voldemort's blood red eyes was visible even in this dream, vision, whatever. It ended, and Harry took a series of slow, deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Perhaps... he had made a mistake.
Shrugging, he pulled out his wand and cast the Patronus charm. The stag that appeared tilted its head obligingly to listen as Harry whispered his response to the Dark Lord.
He wanted the Death Eaters out of Hogwarts so his classmates could be educated in peace.
His patronus galloped off with his message, and Harry laid back down, not expecting much more than a fury fueled headache in response. What he got instead was another vision. Voldemort was in the same room, but was petting the stag tenderly, his smile small but smug on his face.
"Very well, Harry Potter. In return, you will answer me each time I call. You will tell me anything I ask of you."
Harry didn't really know how the horcrux bond worked between them, but he tried to indicate his agreement through it. It must have worked, because the next morning, the Death Eaters departed. The DA, as well as Ron and Hermione were reeling in shock, and that was BEFORE Harry explained that he had come to an agreement with Lord Voldemort. Sure, they thought he was mad. But it worked, and if it works, it's not stupid, right? Besides, he'd only agreed to talk to the man, not meet up with him.
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The year flew by in that manner. Harry, Ron, and Hermione continued to move around, staying in various Order safe houses. Although he never saw Voldemort in person, they talked a lot and got a lot done together. Who knew the questions he was going to ask Harry were so philosophical? Voldemort had probably been trying to convince Harry that he was going about things the right way, so Harry should join him. The resulting debates via visions and patronuses had actually been pretty enlightening for them both.
He'd conceded, for example, to Voldemort on Creature and Dark Beings rights, and the Dark Lord had conceded to him about blood purity being a bunch of garbage. In the past year, he'd passed a lot of laws allowing the teaching of Dark Magic, properly supervised, werewolf and vampire rights, more land for giants, and looser restrictions on Magical Creature breeding. He had also eliminated the Muggleborn Registration Commission and allowed Muggleborns to return to Hogwarts.
Progress was slow, but constant, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to a somewhat normal life. They were all studying with owl ordered books for their N.E.W.Ts, the Weasley family had all returned to their jobs since they were under a 'do not harm' order from Voldemort, and although the Minister was still a puppet, his Master was overall much more reasonable.
Harry had returned the locket to Voldemort by shoving the wrapped package into Draco Malfoy's hands as he snuck up on him in his invisibility cloak. The scream this elicited was hilarious. He'd included a note that suggested Voldemort reabsorb the soul piece if possible, and they'd had a month's worth of debate about it after. He knew he won because he could FEEL a measure of sanity returning to the man. It also strengthened their connection, and Harry was able to figure out how to send visions of himself back to Voldemort instead of communicating with his patronus.
Voldemort immediately began complaining about the length of Harry's hair, which he hadn't cut in ages. Just to shut him up, he cut it. Hermione insisted they do a whole makeover for Harry if he was already going to begin with his hair, so he now had a new wardrobe of properly fitting clothes too.
Voldemort's reaction when Harry sent a vision of him sporting his new look was odd. There was an unusually long period of nothing before he received a brief "I need to think." And then nothing for a week. Shortly after, they began Christmas shopping. The holiday was in a few days, and they were extremely late in doing anything for it, but they were still technically in hiding. Ron, Hermione, and the Order still insisted that Harry couldn't risk being brought to Voldemort.
They'd spent a lot of time in muggle areas over the last year, so Hermione suggested they get mobile phones for each other to keep in contact in areas where they couldn't use magic. The Ministry had just begun paying each of them a salary for being 'outside consultants.' Harry was pretty sure Voldemort had ordered it as another way to butter him up and get him to agree to a meeting. He wasn’t sure WHY though. He'd already returned the horcrux he had, and he wasn't contemplating destroying the one embedded in his head. Harry wasn't really a threat to him anymore, so the only thing he could think of was that Voldemort had a shiny cage waiting with his name on it.
Ron was astounded by the mobile phone, and after he got over his initial frustration about how to use it, was having a grand time taking pictures of everything with the built-in camera. Harry laughed with Hermione as they both saw this part of his father so clearly presenting itself in their best mate.
He didn't tell his friends, but he'd bought another phone to send to Lord Voldemort for Christmas. He told himself there was no point in telling them, because they'd ask WHY and he'd have to admit he had no idea, he just wanted to. Who knows if the man would even be able to use it, since he never left the magical world and travelled outside the magical interference. He sent it and a letter off with an owl belonging to the Longbottom's (their current shelter) and wondered if Voldemort would ever utilize the number he'd programed into the phone.
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LV: Your instructions on how to use this device could have been clearer.
Harry blinked at the phone for several moments, food halfway to his mouth. They had brought Neville out to their favorite curry place in muggle London, and so far, their friend was greatly enjoying the outing. Hermione had explained about fifteen things to him on the way here, and he wasn't showing any sign of slowing down.
"Something wrong, Harry?"
Ron was looking between him and the phone worriedly.
"Ah, no. Just one of those weird sales messages."
Ron nodded in understanding, eyes going to his own mobile phone that he'd just used to photograph his curry.
"I got one yesterday from a bloke saying he was an African Prince and needed money to go home."
When Ron returned his attention to Hermione as she explained what a Tesco was to Neville, he picked up his phone.
Harry: You're a genius, I had faith you'd figure it out.
LV: I am. What I have not figured out is why you have sent it to me.
Harry: Christmas gift.
LV: …. why?
Harry: You could just say thank you. Anyway, isn't this better than barging into each other's brain to talk?
LV: Perhaps. It will only work while I'm at the Riddle House, however.
Harry: oh are you there now? I thought you bought a place in Hogsmeade.
LV: I'm renovating it. For when I need a... retreat from politics.
Huh. How vulnerable. They talked throughout the rest of the outing, and Harry was surprised by how disappointed he was when they returned to Neville's and the magical interference effectively cut off their conversation. Sure, they could still talk the way they used to, but neither of them did.
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Harry: Happy Christmas, LV!
LV: I'm not sure I enjoy that nickname.
Harry: Thanks, I WILL have a happy Christmas too! And that's how I have your name entered on my phone.
LV: Change it.
Harry: To what? He-Who-Quotes-Too-Much-Machiavelli? OG Headboy? Heir of Slytherin?
LV: You're hilarious, Harry Potter. "My Lord Voldemort" will do.
Harry: hahaha haha haha omg
Harry: not a chance.
LV: It is not titles that honor men, but men that honor titles.
Harry:......
Harry: I'm changing it to Machiavelli.
Machiavelli: DO NOT.
Harry: too late, it's done.
Machiavelli: Fine. Just Voldemort then.
Harry: Alright. Let's hope nobody looks at my phone and has a heart attack when they see that name.
Voldemort: If they are so weak, they deserve it.
Harry: why do I like talking to you
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Voldemort: What are you doing right now?
Harry: It New Years Eve. Drinkin
Voldemort: Stop it. It's affecting me through the bond.
Harry: me drunkness is rubbing off on you? Awesom
Voldemort: No, it's very annoying. I'm trying to read.
Harry: why you should be drunk too. Isn't your birthday today?? Happy birthday! Are you like 100 now?
Voldemort: 72, boy. How do you even know that it's my birthday?
Harry: I stalk you, duh. Itwas a whole thing with Dumbledore. I know waaayy too much bout u
Voldemort: How invasive.
Harry: yeah sorry bout that
Voldemort: Are you? How will you make it up to me?
Harry: uhhmm bought you a phone?
Voldemort: Yes, but although this mobile phone has a camera equipped, you never send me pictures of you. How am I to know my horcrux is well?
Harry: You want pics of me? Didnt think I was your type
Voldemort: Pictures of you on a regular basis would ease my concerns, since you are still stubbornly refusing to meet with me.
Harry: ngl still kinda worried ur gonna put a shirt on me that says "property of THE DARK LORD VOLDEMORT’ and throw me in a gold cage or something
Voldemort: .....
Voldemort: Pictures, Harry.
Harry: Fine fine
Harry: [image]
Harry: wait, this one's cuter
Harry: [image]
Voldemort: Thank you. More like the second one.
The countdown happened, the fireworks started going off, and Ron and Hermione FINALLY kissed. Harry shouted and clapped for this more than the new year. Everything was distinctly floaty actually, so Harry tracked down the men's room. They had gone out to a muggle pub to celebrate the new year, and maybe Harry had celebrated a little too much. He splashed some water on his face, sat in a stall, and looked at the pictures he'd taken. The first was of him sitting at the table that he, Ron, and Hermione had claimed for the night. The second was him leaning against a wall and saucily winking at the camera. Why had he done that? Ah, right. Alcohol.
A notification flashed across the top of his phone.
Voldemort: Harry, did you drunkenly pass out somewhere?
Harry: no, your dark lordness. Had to go to the men's room
Voldemort: Send me more pictures then. You still look a bit underfed, from what little I can see in those two.
Harry rolled his eyes at the bossy man. He was eating just FINE now. Three whole meals a day. Irritably, he stood and stripped his shirt off. Leaning against the stall, he stretched his arm back and took a picture of himself from his neck to his hips. He even tugged the waistband of his trousers down a bit so Voldemort could see that his hipbones were no longer protruding like they used to.
Harry: [image]
Harry: Happy? I'm fine.
There was a pause of two or three minutes before he got a response.
Voldemort: You are. And happy is certainly a word for what I am.
Harry didn't know what that meant, but Ron came in looking for him, so he put his shirt back on, went home with his friends, and woke up embarrassed beyond belief.
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Harry continued to send innocent, fully clothed pictures of himself to Voldemort, and Voldemort merely thanked him. He never asked for more... exciting images. Yet Harry couldn't stop thinking about it. The way Voldemort had responded... was he attracted to Harry? He still didn’t see himself as very attractive.
Was Harry attracted to Voldemort? He'd definitely been attracted to Tom Riddle, but Lord Voldemort was a far cry from the Slytherin student he once was. Except the bone structure of his face. His height, obviously. His clever, dry humor was pretty much the same as the boy he'd spoken to in the diary now that he'd regained some sanity.
He shook his head to dislodge the thoughts. It was Valentines Day, and he was lying in bed thinking of Lord Voldemort? Merlin, he had no life. Currently, they were staying in Hermione's childhood home. Now that her parents were out of danger, they'd been doing a lot of research, in the magical and muggle worlds, on memory recovery. They could be reunited with their daughter if they found an answer. Ron and Hermione were now a serious thing, so they were sharing her room, while Harry took the guest room.
It would probably just be him for the rest of the night since the lovebirds had gone out on a date. Maybe he should TRY to meet someone. He hardly spoke to anyone who wasn't a friend or the darkest wizard of all time. Harry went to the floor length mirror in his room, stripped down to his boxers, and looked at himself from different angles. He felt like this mirror was one of those fantastically designed ones that makes you look better than you actually looked, so he took a few pictures with his phone. Was that a mole or a freckle? Harry tried to enlarge the image, and instead hit the send button.
It had sent to the chat he had open - with Lord Voldemort. Harry stared at the little 'sent' notification in abject horror for a moment, then slid to the floor, pressing his face into the carpet. OK, this wasn't the end of the world, Harry. Maybe he won't respond. Maybe he'll just shake his head at Harry's weirdness and close his messages. It wasn't that risqué of a photo, right? He dragged his phone to his face again and zoomed out to see the whole image.
Oh. It was the one where he was kneeling in front of the mirror with his legs spread, leaning back on one hand. The hand holding his phone blocked half of his face but did not block the front of his boxers in the slightest. He stared at the phone for a moment more, then dropped it onto the floor with a thump that he hoped would break something.
The phone vibrated with a notification, and immediately dashed his hopes. He picked it up, already wincing at the probable response.
Voldemort: [image]
It was a picture. Voldemort had never sent him a picture before. He opened it and didn't know what he was looking at. Until he did.
"T-wo?" He heard himself choke out.
Voldemort had - Lord Voldemort had sent him a picture of his cocks. Not singular. PLURAL COCKS. MULTIPLE, VERY LARGE COCKS. How did he have two - wait, scratch that. Why would he send this to Harry?! Had it been a mistake, like the one Harry had sent to him?
Voldemort: More. Send me another picture, Harry.
Oh. He had... enjoyed the picture. That was... strangely thrilling. Harry debated for a moment and sent the other pictures. His Gryffindor recklessness was definitely going to get him killed some day.
Voldemort: [image]
Harry opened the picture with shaking hands and gasped, his face flooding with heat. Voldemort's hand - one hand was able to wrap around both of his cocks, and he was obviously stroking himself now. Why was Harry getting as hard as Voldemort was in these pictures? What would he even.... hypothetically do with two cocks? He couldn't fit both in his mouth. He supposed he could fit one and stroke the other with his fist -
Voldemort: I need to see more of you. Take off the boxers and let me see you touch yourself.
Harry swallowed, his throat clicking dryly all of a sudden. Was he really going to do this? He stared at the two pictures Voldemort sent and found himself unconsciously doing as he asked, pulling down his boxers to caress his own hardness.
Voldemort: I'm waiting, Harry. Or are you afraid to finish what you started?
Harry narrowed his eyes at the message and pulled his boxers off, throwing them onto the bed. He spread his legs, so his feet touched each end of the mirror and took a series of pictures. One of his reflection in the mirror, his spread legs showing everything from his hole to his hardened cock, one of his hand stroking it, and another of him pinching a nipple as his erection began leaking against his stomach.
Harry: [image]
Harry: [image]
Harry: [image]
He felt the reaction through their bond a moment before the vision overtook his mind.
Voldemort was lying on black silk sheets, slicking one hand down his cocks rapidly. The wet sound seemed to echo in the elaborately decorated room he was in. In his other hand, he held the phone Harry had gifted him. He brought the screen to his mouth and licked the image on it with a long, forked tongue. He hissed in Parseltongue one word: Harry.
He returned to his body just in time to see that he was on his back now and stroking himself just as desperately. He knew when Voldemort came, because he did a moment later. He didn't have the brain power to wonder how they had synced up like that, but it was brilliant. Harry floated in a haze of sleepy contentment, blissfully not questioning what had just happened. Until he heard the buzz of a new message.
Voldemort: I think we can move onto the next step in our courting, Harry. Meet me at Hogwarts. Let me finally take you on a proper date, and then we can do THIS again, in person.
Harry's brain must still be rebooting.
Harry: Courting? Since when have we been courting?
Voldemort: While you have always belonged to me, I initiated it when I arranged to have your needs seen to by assigning you and your friends a salary. You accepted when you sent me this gift.
As soon as Ron and Hermione got home, he asked Ron about wizarding courting customs. When his best mate responded that it began with an exchange of gifts, Harry went red as Ron's hair. They both asked if he was alright, and he said he'd talk to them about it in the morning. No need to ruin their nice night. This was going to be a complex conversation, and besides... he still had about an hour of the day left to spend with Voldemort. He opened his messages and typed out a tentative agreement to meet.
Voldemort: Finally. How do you like the title "Consort of the Dark Lord", my Valentine?