Harry only knows how utterly ruined he is when he locks eyes with the red-eyed angel that has just been reborn before his eyes. He may not know everything, but he knows about this. He knows what meeting your soulmate is supposed to feel like.
The cold, hard tombstone of Tom Riddle Senior digs into Harry’s back and reminds him how helpless he is right now. No wand, no Dumbledore, no friends to save him. He tries once again to struggle out of the bonds keeping him chained to the tombstone, but to no avail. Never before in his life has Harry felt more like crying than right at this moment. He wishes he could deny the feelings welling up inside his body at the presence of his one true Alpha; that he could pretend that fate had intended for him to be bonded to literally anyone else in the whole world.
But that would be lying, and Harry knows without a shadow of a doubt as he stares into those unholy blood-red eyes that lying will do him no good, nor will his mate appreciate it.
“ Harry Potter ,” Voldemort hisses in Parseltongue, low and deadly. He looks nothing like the monster Harry imagined. Instead, he looks like an older version of the Tom Riddle Harry met in his second year: stunning, delectable, and absolutely entrancing. The omega in Harry whines as his mate says his name. He can feel the electric heat pooling in his belly that every omega self-help guide says is the beginning of a heat.
It’s been said that only mated pairs of extreme power have a strong enough bond to trigger a heat or rut upon their first meeting. Clearly that’s what’s happening now, as Harry knows most male omegas don’t have their first heat until at least sixteen. He supposed that his life is just fucked up enough that it makes perfect sense that he would fall into that one-tenth of a percent that would trigger upon meeting their soulmate.
Voldemort is still staring at him curiously, much to the confusion of Wormtail, who is still standing to the side unsure of whether or not to address his master.
“Harry Potter,” Voldemort says again, this time in English. “I see now that I have been most foolish in trying to end your life.”
Perhaps Harry should be comforted by this, but instead he feels utter dread.
“What are you going to do with me?” he rasps, fighting the instinct to present and submit.
Voldemort doesn’t answer. Instead, without taking his eyes off Harry, he addresses Wormtail.
“Summon the others and tell them of my return. I will meet with them shortly, for now I have some business to attend to.”
Wormtail spares an anxious but curious glance at both his master and Harry before bowing his head and apparating away.
Voldemort stalks closer and examines Harry.
“You’re an omega,” he says. It’s not a question, they both already know the answer.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” Voldemort whispers, barely inches from Harry’s face.
“How...how do I know you’re telling the truth?” Harry says, unable to keep the fear and anxiety out of his voice. His mind is getting cloudier by the second, now; all of his instincts are telling him that everything is okay, his wonderful, perfect alpha is here and he is going to take such good care of Harry, no one will ever hurt him again.
“You know that I could never lie to you, being who you are,” Voldemort replies. “You can feel it too, can’t you? We’re true mates, I couldn’t lie even if I wanted to.”
And there it is, the confirmation of everything Harry has been feeling, finally spoken aloud. While his inner omega sings at the thought of his mate recognizing their bond, part of Harry’s mind is screaming in agony, because How could the man who murdered his parents be his soulmate?
Voldemort waves his hand and removes the bonds that had kept Harry tied to the gravestone, causing Harry to fall directly into Voldemort’s arms.
The contact is nothing like what Harry had expected. He’d been sure he was going to be seared by the same agonizing pain that had wracked his body every other time the two of them had touched, but he’s shocked when it’s almost the complete opposite: pure pleasure and happiness unlike anything he’s ever felt course through him.
“ Alpha ,” he whines in Parseltongue, snuggling closer to the warm body surrounding him.
Harry can feel Voldemort draw in a sharp breath of surprise. Had he been able to see the older man’s eyes, he would have seen the smallest hint of fear and unease that was creeping into those scarlet irises. The moment is fleeting, however, and soon Harry feels the telltale pull in his navel that indicates apparition.
Seconds later, the both of them appear in one of the bedrooms of Riddle Manor. In the tight and enclosed space, their scents suddenly become all-encompassing, undiluted by outside air like they were in the graveyard. Voldemort growls and throws Harry down on the bed.
Harry whines and struggles in his clothes. It’s all too much. He’s never felt so many sensations or emotions in the same moment before in his life. Part of him wants to run away, but he knows it would just be delaying the inevitable. He and Voldemort, Tom, are soulmates; as hard as they try to keep apart they won’t be able to help coming back to each other’s side. His omega wants this, needs this, and won’t stop until he’s got a bondmark on his neck and a belly full of his alpha’s seed.
It’s at this moment that Tom (for that’s who he is, really, Harry thinks he can see that now) captures his lips for the first time. His warm, smooth, newly-made lips hum against Harry’s, his tongue licking deftly into Harry’s mouth and exploring every crevice and cavity they can find.
Harry can feel his slick beginning to trickle out of his ass and his cock begin to get hard. Producing slick is a strange feeling, almost like if Harry had wet himself. He grinds his hips up again Tom, who’s crowded above him and rapidly working off both their clothes. Harry’s grateful-- he doubts he would have even been able to take off his shoes in this state.
“ Alpha...Alpha, I need you! ” Harry whines. Instinctively he spreads his legs and flips over, presenting himself.
Tom growls again and bites at Harry’s neck, causing him to cry out. He moves his length against Harry’s ass, fingering his hole and finding that he’s able to easily slip two fingers in. Harry groans at the penetration and moves back against Tom’s fingers, fucking himself on them. He’s more than ready to take Tom. Tom would expect nothing less, they are true mates after all and Harry’s an omega in his first heat to boot. Harry’s milky, lean body looks ravishing against the bedsheets and Tom has to stifle a moan out of the need to get inside, make this omega truly his own, fill him up until the boy’s womb has no choice but to flower with his seed.
With that thought, Tom removes his fingers and lines himself up with Harry’s entrance.
“Mine,” he whispers, licking up the column of Harry’s neck and paying special attention to the swollen bonding gland he needs to bite to complete their bond.
“Yours,” Harry mumbles, knowing it to be true beyond a shadow of a doubt. He is Tom’s, now and forevermore, as Tom is his.
He feels Tom’s hardness against his hole a pushes back, urging his alpha to get inside him. Against the back of his neck, he can feel Tom’s grin.
“You’re an eager little whore, aren’t you?” he croons, before shoving harshly into Harry. Harry screams but it feels so, so good . He feels full and impossibly whole, like he’s just found something that he had never known he had been missing. Tom stiffens for a second, before beginning to move.
“Oh, my little omega, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You are my mate, yes, but you’re something else as well. Do you know what a horcrux is? It’s a vessel that carries part of another’s soul. I have several of these, and they are what has prevented me from dying all these years, but what I didn’t see is that you are one as well,” Tom explains, continuing to thrust into Harry.
“You, my precious one, carry within you a piece of Lord Voldemort’s soul, as you have since the fateful night we first met. We share a soul in more ways than one, it seems.”
Harry cries out, only half listening. Tom rams against his prostate, making him see stars and increasing the electric sensation in his belly tenfold. He doesn’t really understand what Tom is saying, nor does he care. All he wants right now is for his alpha to keep hitting that spot, over and over again until Tom’s knot catches and fills him to the brim with his essence. Perhaps it will be enough for Harry to even become pregnant, the omega in his mind hopes. Rational Harry would faint at the idea of having children so young, but he’s not in control right now. Right now his omega instincts are telling him that it’s the best idea in the world to bear as many heirs as he can for his loving alpha.
Harry moans as he releases his come all over his belly and the sheets. His orgasm floods his body with sensation, lifting him higher than he thought possible. Tom still thrusts against him, but slower now that his knot has begun to take form.
He’s still a bit in shock himself; it’s only been minutes since he was resurrected yet in that time he’s discovered that Harry Potter , the Boy Who Lived and his so-called nemesis is in fact not only his true soulmate but also his lost horcrux. Any thoughts he’d ever had of killing the boy are long gone. Instead Voldemort now knows that he will do everything in his power to keep him safe and kill anyone who even comes close to doing him harm. He’d thought it was impossible for him to be so protective or care for someone other than himself, but it seems he was wrong about that too.
And should this bonding prove fruitful and Harry become full with his children, Voldemort knows that he will protect them just the same.
With one final thrust, his knot locks in place and he releases his seed deep into Harry’s body. Sharply, he bites down on the bonding gland and marvels as he is suddenly flooded with sensations that are not his own.
Harry’s fear, uncertainty, and bliss mix with his own until neither of them are sure who’s who anymore.
After a few moments, the sensations abate and Harry sighs as he lies boneless beneath Tom. They manoeuvre on the bed until they’re lying on their sides. Tom gently runs a hand through Harry’s hair, whispering almost nonsensical words in Parseltongue in his ear.
Deep down, Harry knows how fucked up this situation is, but he can’t bring himself to care, because it’s everything he never knew he wanted and it’s perfect.
This was supposed to be a one-shot, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so I decided to write more. I may or may not add more chapters, it kinda just depends on how I feel.
Anyway, I know this is short, but enjoy!
The next day was the hardest. When Harry woke up curled up in the embrace of his mortal enemy, he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, to disappear into the realm of dreams where all of this could just be a figment of his imagination. His dreams had been cruel before, after all.
But none of them were as real as this. No dream could replicate the sensation inside of him that exploded into being the moment he first touched his Alpha. Harry could ignore the firm arms wrapped around him, ignore the distinctive soreness of his body, but he can't ignore the feeling of rightness that fills every fiber of his being while in the presence of Voldemort. This is exactly where you're supposed to be, Harry's instincts tell him.
But Harry's mind tells him otherwise. You let yourself get fucked by the man who killed your parents, who tried to kill YOU.
How was he going to explain this to Ron, to Hermione? Hell, how was he going to explain this to anyone?
Harry feels a gentle hand card through his hair.
“Your thoughts are restless, my Omega,” Voldemort remarks in parseltongue. “You need not worry about anything. I will protect you.”
Harry whimpers. His brain is flooded with dopamine at his Alpha’s words, forcing him to relax. While on one hand he appreciates it, on the other he wants to fight the biological response.
"I..." Harry hesitates, "But you hate me. You tried to kill me," he whispers.
Immediately he can sense the alpha's displeasure.
"Yes, but that was before," Voldemort says irritably. He flips Harry over and captures his lips in a dominating kiss.
Harry gives in, but only for a moment.
"No," he says.
Voldemort, Tom, glares at him harshly with his blood colored eyes.
"What was that, Omega?" He hisses.
Harry resists the urge to flinch.
"I said 'no'", he says again, although a little quieter this time. "I need to have...I need you to promise not to hurt me. Ever."
Tom narrows his eyes.
"You are mine. I would never harm what belongs to me."
"I...I know, but I need you to swear. I can't trust you yet."
Tom narrows his eyes even more, and seems ready to give a biting response, but Harry interrupts him.
"Please... I'm not asking for much. Just do this one thing for me, my Alpha," he begs.
Tom sighs, and pulls back.
"I swear on my life I will never bring you harm in any way."
"Thank you," Harry says, and leans forward to kiss his mate softly.
Part of him wants to ask for more, to plead Voldemort not to go after his friends too, but he knows now is not the time. He may have some degree of power to influence the Dark Lord now, but he can't ask for too much at once. Best be smart about this.
The place inside Harry where the two of them are connected blossoms with feelings of affection from Tom, who returns the kiss happily.
Tom grinds down, and Harry can feel his hardness against his front.
"Would you allow me the honor," the Dark Lord whispers, "of fucking you, my horcrux?"
There's that word again, Harry thinks. He had been pretty far gone in his heat-haze when Voldemort had mentioned it before, but he knows it's something important. He's about to ask, when his mate shushes him gently.
"Clear your mind," Tom croons, trailing his fingers down across Harry's back until they reach his ass. Harry gasps as the fingers enter him. He's still pretty stretched from their activities a little while ago, and a small trail of cum trickles out of him.
It's not long before he presses into Harry, his knot already beginning to form. Harry closes his eyes and relaxes back into his Alpha's embrace.
It's okay, he tries to convince himself. He promised he wouldn't hurt me. He's going to take care of me.
Tom hammers into him, hitting his prostate with uncanny accuracy, and Harry spreads his legs to allow him better access.
"A-alpha," he gasps.
Passively, he wonders if he's already pregnant. Now that he's not completely overcome with his instincts, he sort of hopes he's not. Harry can barely handle this situation as it is, even without the added pressure of a child. Although he supposes that being pregnant with the Dark Lord's heir would offer him an added protection against the Death Eaters.
Tom's knot catches against his rim, making Harry see stars.
"Mine," he growls, just like before.
"You are mine, my beautiful mate."
"Yes," Harry moans. That, at the very least, he knows is true. He might not agree with a lot of things about his situation right now, but without a doubt he knows that he belongs to Voldemort.
Harry meets his mate's eyes. "And you are mine," he whispers before thinking, but immediately cringes. He shouldn't have said that. Voldemort doesn't seem like the type to permit himself to be possessed by anyone.
However to Harry's surprise Tom moans at this, and he feels a pulse of arousal through their connection.
"My Omega, My most precious one," Tom whispers in parseltongue. "Bearer of my soul. I will conquer the world for you."
With a flash, Harry comes, spilling his mess all over the two of them and the already dirty sheets. There is nothing but the sensation of electricity shooting up from his belly and dashing through every nerve he possesses.
Tom is coming too, his orgasm triggered by Harry's hole fluttering around him in ecstasy. His knot catches and he's filling Harry again.
Maybe carrying his child wouldn't be so bad, Harry's blissed out mind thinks.
Once Tom finally leaves, Harry has some time to think.
Tom only leaves his side hours later, finally succumbing to the need to address his followers. He cleans them both up with a simple spell and apparates away. Harry's alone, finally.
His first thought is to escape, but he quickly realizes how impractical that would be. He has no money, no wand, no way of contacting anyone he knows to tell them where he is. Plus, he's not foolish enough to imagine that Voldemort hasn't placed enchantments on this room that would keep him from getting out.
He wonders if anyone ever found Cedric’s body.
Harry’s body feels hot, and his limbs much too heavy, but he pulls himself out of bed regardless. All he knows is that he can’t let what’s happened be the end of him. Harry has already suffered far too long and far too much to let this...unexpected turn of events break his resolve. Voldemort- Tom - may be his mate, but that doesn’t mean he should be allowed to burn the world. Not if Harry can help it.
What would Dumbledore say, if he was here right now? Harry thinks to himself. He would tell you not to give up. You, now more than anyone, have a chance to change the Dark Lord’s mind. Don’t squander that chance, Harry.
The room is sparsely furnished, and obviously hasn’t been cleaned in a long while, even with magic. There’s a layer of dust on the floor and the wood creaks when Harry carefully steps down onto the floorboards.
Clearly Tom is not much for cleaning, but then again, he has been, well, dead. Part of Harry’s brain tells him that he should be a good Omega and clean up before Tom gets back, but now that his heat-haze has finally cleared away, it’s easy to ignore that impulse. Fuck that , he thinks. His first heat caught him unawares, but now that the worst is over Harry plans on having no part of being the perfect, submissive Omega.
He pulls the rumpled sheets back over the bed, idly wondering if Tom has a house elf who will pop up at some point and fix up the bed. Based on the state of the room Harry doubts it, but he’s heard Sirius talk about his family’s house elf Kreacher, so he can’t be sure.
Harry wanders over to the door and tries the handle, and unsurprisingly, it’s locked. He huffs slightly in irritation. What, then, does Tom expect him to do all day while he’s gone? Stare at the ceiling?
He’s trying to make you miss him , the cynic part of Harry says. He wants you to be bored so that when he comes back, you’ll crave his affection. He’s trying to make you NEED him.
Well. Let him try. Harry has plenty of experience in entertaining himself after all those years in the cupboard.
He picks his clothes up from where they’re strewn across the floor and puts them back on, not caring that they’re still splattered with mud and blood and gunk. The third task of the Triwizard Tournament seems so far away and so long ago, even though it was just yesterday.
How can everything change so much in one day?
There’s a knock on the door and a poor, unhealthy looking house elf peeks its head around the door. So Tom does have a house elf. Interesting.
“Master, sir? I is told that Master may be needing food?”
“Oh, ah, yes,” Harry says uncomfortably. After the whole ordeal with Dobby he’s still highly uncomfortable asking the house elves for things, considering how they’re treated. But now that he thinks of it, he really is hungry.
“Is you be wanting anything in particulars, sir?”
“Uh, anything is fine, really. Although I could go for some treacle tart, if you have that? And you can just call me Harry, by the way.”
The elf’s eyes widened comically, and it cried out, “Master Harry is very kind, sir! Rookby has never had a wizard ask him to use their name, sir!”
Harry repressed a sigh- interactions with house elves were very tiring and repetitive, it seemed, but Harry knew they couldn’t help it. Not when they were treated like rubbish on a daily basis.
“Rookby- is that your name? There’s no need to call me Master. Just Harry is fine.”
“Of course, just Harry sir! I is be getting food and fresh clothes for just Harry now!” Rookby said, poofing away and slamming the door behind him.
“No, my name is ‘Harry,’ it’s not-” Harry started, but the elf was already gone. He went over and tried the door handle again. Still locked.
Typical , Harry thought.
He went back over and sat down on the edge of the bed, blushing and trying to push away stray thoughts of what he and Tom had done here just a few hours ago.
Three days ago, I was laughing with my friends. How is this my life now? He wondered. Harry let himself fall back on the bed, and pulled a pillow over his face. Hopefully Rookby would be back soon.
Through the fluffy thickness of the pillow, Harry heard a faint tapping noise, coming from outside. Probably just a woodpecker who thinks Tom’s house is a tree, Harry thought. The house was old; he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few bugs in the wood for the bird to find. He suddenly had the absurd image of a swarm of woodpeckers all hammering away at the house until nothing was left but a pile of wood and rubble, and he grinned in spite of himself. Lord Voldemort, thwarted by a common woodbird. Take that, Tom.
He pulled the pillow tighter over his head, trying to block out the noise, but to no avail. The tapping continued- in fact, it got even louder. Irritatedly Harry shoved the pillow away and decided to make his way over to the window to see if he could catch a glimpse of the offending bird.
But when he reached the window, there was no woodpecker at all. Instead, tapping on the window with her beak, was Hedwig.