From a very young age Harry always felt like there was something missing. Being an orphan with no parents, siblings or (loving) extended relatives, Harry believed that the missing part was simply his yearning for a family and a place to feel at home in. He figured once he had that, even if it was a family he chose to make rather than one he was born into, that things would fall into place.
When he learned about magic, Hogwarts, his godfather and all the wonderful people who came from his parents' world... Harry again felt like maybe it was what he had been missing. But, as time wore on, that feeling of completeness never truly came to fruition. Sure, he'd come closer than ever before, but he still felt like there was something big, something truly amazing that he still was living without.
It was the night he broke into the Department of Mysteries with his friends that everything finally fell into place; when that missing part of him finally came home. It's funny that Voldemort, his erstwhile enemy was that missing part he'd always longed for.
That night as Harry raced through the DoM something in him told him that it would be smart to make a copy of the glass orb that held the prophesy. With a flick of his wand and a silent spell, another orb settled heavily in his other pocket, everyone else around him completely unaware of what he'd done. Which turned out to be the single most life altering choice he'd ever made, though he didn't know it at the time.
Not even three minutes later, Harry dropped the original orb in the struggle and had that been the only prophesy orb he would have never realized his destiny. In the following hours Harry forgot about the copied orb, his guilt, anger and pain at the loss of Sirius kept him occupied well into the night. They all arrived safely back at Hogwarts, save one, and were treated in the infirmary. Later, Harry had an explosive conversation spoke with Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office, only to have the old man tell him what the prophesy orb would have said.
Harry's anger increased, his pain, guilt, fear... hearing what the prophesy said was like the weight of the his peers and the Order's expectation (already firmly sat on his shoulders) increased and he staggered under the weight of the wizarding world as a whole.
As Harry laid in bed hours later he remembered the copied orb and bounded out of bed, wanting to hear for himself exactly what the prophesy said, word for word. He wanted to be sure what he place was in this world, what his obligation was, his fate.
"Whatcha' doin', mate?" Ron mumbled sleepily from his bed as Harry rifled through his clothes.
"Nothin, Ron, I just remembered I left something in my clothes, didn't want the house elves to take it when they take the clothes to clean." Harry answered as he grabbed his pants from the pile of clothes he'd stripped out of earlier. He wanted, even for just a little while longer, to keep the orb to himself.
Jumping back into his bed, Harry closed the drapes tightly and sealed the sounds from inside with a silencing spell so no one could hear from within the drapes. His hands shaking, Harry removed the orb from the pocket of his pants and found himself pulled into the orb in a flash of light.
As Harry regained his sight he found himself standing in the Hog's Head Inn watching Professor Trelawney speaking with Headmaster Dumbledore quietly. She was her same barmy self, rambling on about obviously fake deathly visions of doom and gloom... As the minutes wore on Harry was almost sure there was something wrong, shouldn't it have shown him the prophesy by now? But, a second later her voice took on a dark and trembling booming sound, words falling from her lips that Harry could hardly fathom. They were so similar and yet completely different than what Headmaster Dumbledore had told him.
"The one with the power to rule as victorious Consort approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, fate will mark him as soulmate and he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... power born of the Bonded required to guide the world into a new era, love to awaken a long dead heart... and neither must die at the hand of the other for neither can live unless the other survives."
Harry watched it over and over, trying to grasp what the prophesy was truly saying. Though Harry hadn't grown up in the magical world he knew what a consort was and exactly what it implied of his future relationship with Voldemort. Never before had Harry even considered anything remotely like what the prophesy implied... but with just a few words Harry's mind exploded with possibilities that until a few minutes ago were blocked to him.
His heart started to pound in his chest, aching with an age-old want that he had never been able to name. Now the name of it teetered on the edge of being voiced... soulmates. His skin began to flush with desire, his breath began to slip out in heavy pants between his parted lips. Harry's cock began to harden and his ass felt as if it was suddenly empty of a fullness he'd never physically known before, but that he missed nonetheless.
A longing sprang forth from his body with a furiosity that surpassed the measly feeling of "something missing" he'd felt all his life. In its wake was a connection that had been cut off from him for far too long. Something echoed back from the other side of the connection and Harry knew it was Voldemort.
Harry felt a sense of equal parts curiosity and suspicion from Voldemort as the connection blossomed between them. The teenager let the connection open full-force, his Gryffindor courage and impetuousness aiding him in welcoming the connection without heed. And, as the connection grew that feeling of completeness he always longed for began to grow until he felt as if everything he was or would ever be centered around he soul being mated with Voldemort's.
He was sure that everyone he knew would call him an idiot, a traitor, a dark wizard for what he'd done, what he accepted without restraint... but Harry couldn't, wouldn't, stop it from happening now that he knew about it.
Within a few minutes Harry's whole life was turned on it's axis, but instead of toppling it to its side the prophesy righted it back on stable ground. He didn't know why or how he knew it to be true, but from the moment he heard the true prophesy Harry was absolutely sure that this was what he had always been missing.
And, he was absolutely sure that whoever had kept it from him, kept him from Voldemort, would pay in the most painful way possible by the time this was all over.
Hours after the connection blossomed between them, Harry laid there basking in the warm feeling that surrounded him from the connection. Voldemort had quickly grown as assured of the connection as Harry and seemed to master it like he did everything else, though Harry was fairly sure Voldemort didn't know who he was connected to. Harry giggled as he felt an almost nonexistent caress along his cheek; a feather-light touch that infused with it a feeling of reverence and love.
If Harry didn't know better he would have sworn that there were strong arms wrapped around him as warm breath gusted on the curve of his neck, lips glided silkily along his jawline. He felt safe, loved, comforted, desired, possessed, protected.
All too soon though, the long day and night finally began to take its toll and Harry felt himself beginning to drift off to sleep. He didn't want to sleep, he wanted to stay protected in the arms of Voldemort forever. But as usual, he very rarely got what he wanted, and he fell asleep from one moment to the next.
Harry opened his eyes and stared in awe at the man who sat regally on the ornate throne in front of him. He knew it was Voldemort, but the Dark Lord looked fairly different from the man he last saw in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Gone were the snakelike features, except for the blood red eyes that seemed to blaze with amusement, and in their place was a strong jaw, a long straight nose, a full head of dark brown hair and a pair of thin smirking lips that Harry longed to press his against.
Harry knew that Voldemort was far closer to Dumbledore's age than he was to Harry's, but as he gazed upon the handsome man before him he couldn't see the markings of that age on Voldemort. Rather, Voldemort looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, resurrection obviously agreed with him.
The thought made Harry nearly giggle in slight hysteria at the whole situation, but as he met those red eyes once again he couldn't help but smile at his soulmate.
"Harry Potter, do wonders never cease? I was surprised when I felt the soulbond connect us, but that is nothing compared to knowing you were the beautiful soul begging for my touch at the other end." Voldemort smoothly drawled, his voice dark and seductive.
Blushing, Harry had no idea what to do, so he just stood there... Waiting.
"Come to me."
As the commanding voice sounded out into the room, echoing off the white marbled walls, Harry began to slowly make his way towards the man who had called to him long before Harry ever consciously knew that he was even being called to.
Stepping up onto the dais, Harry fumbled as he tried to figure out what to do next, but Voldemort made the choice for him. Strong, muscled arms pulled him closer and before Harry knew it he found himself straddling the man's lap.
A whimper slipped from Harry's lips as he was enfolded in those arms, as he felt lips ghost over his neck, as he rocked unconsciously on the startling hard length poking up from below him. Harry wrapped his arms around the man's neck and as he laid his head on Voldemort's shoulder a sigh of utter contentment escaped from within him.
"My dear Harry, would you by chance know how this lovely little connection came into being? Soulbonds, even ones as strong as this one, do not spring up over night, let alone years after the submissive bonded has been born." Voldemort kissed the junction where shoulder and neck met as he spoke, licking the skin beneath and causing Harry to whimper yet again.
"The... Merlin, please..." Harry gasped, rocking a little more firmly down onto Voldemort's growing cock. "...erm... the prophesy, I made a copy of it that nobody knew about. Dumble... ugh, harder..." Harry begged as teeth nipped at his jawline. "Dumbledore told me the prophesy after he thought I destroyed the only copy, but..." another sigh slipped from his lips as the Dark Lord nibbled on Harry's earlobe. "But, I wanted to hear it for myself and tonight after I got in bed I watched the memory. It was similar, but completely different than what he had told me."
"What prophesy did he tell you?" Voldemort questioned darkly, pulling back from his exploration of Harry's neck, stopping Harry from rocking on top of his cock with a stern look and firm hands holding his hips in place.
Harry pouted and said, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."
Voldemort sat back in contemplation for a while before finally laughing. "I've waited years to hear this proclaimed prophesy and now I hear it from your very kissable lips... my soulmate is the one who is supposed to defeat me?"
"I'm not actually supposed to defeat you... I'm supposed to join you." Harry shook his head and grinned. "The one with the power to rule as victorious Consort approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, fate will mark him as soulmate and he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... power born of the Bonded to guide the world into a new era, love to awaken a long dead heart... and neither must die at the hand of the other for neither can live unless the other survives."
A slow smirk began to grow upon Voldemort's face and he swooped down to steal a heated kiss from Harry's lips. "My darling little minx, we will be magnificent! Together we will lay waste to Dumbledore and his feeble Order, the Ministry will fall under our might and you will sit gloriously beside me as my consort, birthing me handsome sons and beautiful daughters."
The words set Harry's body on fire at the thought of taking his place as Voldemort's consort, a position he was always meant to have, even if he hadn't known it until now. The concept of a man giving birth wasn't completely unheard of by him, but he'd never contemplated doing it himself as only male submissive soulmates and extremely powerful wizards had the ability. But if he was honest, the thought of him having children and a mate to raise them with sent a thread of want and yearning through his heart.
Voldemort gathered Harry closer and began ravishing his neck again, thrusting his hard cock up against Harry's ass, his hands gripping tightly around the swell of his cheeks as he taught Harry the right rhythm with his hips.
Harry cried out as sparks danced across his closed eyelids, his cock rubbing against the hard muscles of Voldemort's stomach in perfect counterpoint of the older man's thrusts. The feeling of Voldemort's hand sneaking down the back of Harry's pajama pants sent a shiver down his spine, followed by a finger that glided down the crack of his ass and circled teasingly around his furled entrance.
"Very soon, my little minx I am going to put my cock into this lovely little hole and you'll finally know what it means to be my Consort. To scream my name, to know pleasure like you have never known before and will never known again with anyone but me... you'll know what it means to be mine in every way." Growled Voldemort as he pressed his finger inside easily, thrusting in and out, over and over.
Harry screamed. The sparks turned into bolts of lightning racing throughout his body and Harry came, stars bursting into being before his eyes, his cock twitching and letting loose a jet of seed in the space between their bodies.
Voldemort gripped him tight, his finger continuing to thrust inside him as the Dark Lord thrust his cock up against Harry's body. Growling, cursing and praising Harry in equal measure, Voldemort finally came with three final sharp thrusts.
Harry felt the warmth of the Dark Lord's cum seeping into his skin and grinned in wonder. He never imagined that when he went to the Department of Mysteries yesterday that this would be the outcome, but he was very happy he did.