Chapter Text
"Kill," Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue.
Nagini struck immediately, her fangs sinking into the side of Severus’ neck. There was a terrible, brief scream.
"I regret it," Voldemort said quietly, as Severus collapsed onto the rotting floorboards of the Shrieking Shack.
Unlike his other murders, there was no gloating, no sadistic enjoyment. It was necessity, and nothing more, which had driven Voldemort to this. The Elder Wand had to be his. Truly his, and with it the power to end Potter once and for all. For that to happen, he had to kill Severus, the current master of the Elder Wand.
With a flick of his wand, Voldemort levitated Nagini up again and set her aside against the wall. Below her, Severus lay gasping, in a spreading pool of blood. His breathing was gradually growing fainter, the pulse fluttering at his neck diminishing every second. His magic grew weaker with each fading heartbeat.
And then… Severus’ appearance shifted.
Voldemort leaned forward, his gaze going sharp with suspicion.
There was an iridescent ripple through the air, the telltale mark of a glamour charm failing. Then, the sallow, greasy facade cracked and melted away.
Severus’ lank, greasy strands of hair lengthened, transforming to sleek, silky ebony waves. His harsh features softened, the ugly, hooked nose refining itself into a striking one, only a bit longer than normal. His skin, which had been paling as his blood drained away, suddenly gained the lustrous, almost luminous glow of silvery moonlight. Most startling of all, Severus’ dark eyes, always his most arresting feature, seemed to grow even darker and more intense, framed now by impossibly long lashes that fluttered rapidly as Severus tried to cling to consciousness.
And the scent. Beneath the coppery smell of blood, Severus’ scent brightened and sharpened as his concealment charm failed. Intoxicating in its intensity, sweeping over Voldemort with the force of an unstoppable tidal wave - the fragrance of tea leaves, night-blooming jasmine, and lemon blossoms, with an underlying note that spoke directly to every alpha instinct Voldemort possessed.
An omega.
His most competent servant, his most cunning spy, had been an omega all along.
The prettiest, most desirable omega that Voldemort had ever seen.
Voldemort could hardly believe his eyes. Driven by deep, primal instincts more powerful than even his pursuit of immortality, he swiftly approached Severus and crouched down beside him.
Severus' beautiful dark eyes widened with fear as he choked around a gasp, blood bubbling at his throat. He lifted a trembling hand as if trying to push Voldemort away. But moments later, his strength failed, and his hand fell limply to his side.
That pitiful attempt at resistance was almost adorable. It did not truly anger Voldemort. He could punish Severus properly later, for this and for hiding his true nature from his master for all these years.
This close, the scent of Severus was stronger than ever, impossibly sweet and deliciously alluring. The urge to bite down, to claim him properly, surged violently to the fore, but Voldemort held back. First, he needed to ensure Severus' safety.
“You will not die,” Voldemort hissed. “You are mine.”
Without hesitation, he leaned down and lowered his lips to the bite wound on Severus' throat.
Beneath him, Severus gasped and writhed weakly, trembling hard.
Voldemort lapped roughly against the wound before he drew down, sucking hard with each inhale. Venom rushed sharp and acrid over his tongue, but Nagini's venom posed no danger to him. Again and again, Voldemort sucked and swallowed until the taste of venom thinned, until only Severus’ blood ran pure against his tongue, tasting as sweet as ambrosia to his inner alpha. He would have loved to drink this forever, but reason held him back - Severus had already lost too much blood to Nagini's bite.
Reluctantly, Voldemort pulled back, lifting his head to gaze into Severus' eyes.
Severus was still too weak to speak, but every inch of his beautiful face betrayed his tension and fear - his wide, dark eyes, his trembling, rose-pink lips parted in rapid, shallow breaths.
Voldemort’s bloodied lips curved up in a smile. Red and dripping, red and hungry.
Then he lunged.
He bit hard on the side of Severus’s throat, right over the torn flesh.
Severus let out a hoarse, strangled cry, body arching underneath Voldemort. He reached his hand up again, trying to push against Voldemort’s chest, a final act of half-hearted resistance, but it transformed to a clutching grasp at Voldemort’s robes as Voldemort's teeth sank in further. Tears spilled from Severus’ dark eyes, wetting his long lashes.
The bond ignited between them, flaring to life in a brilliant sear of white-hot magic.
Immediate.
Unbreakable.
A connection rooted in blood and breath, binding omega to alpha, a merging of soul to soul.
As the bond took hold, deep, abiding satisfaction bloomed in Voldemort’s chest. The mating bond could not successfully take effect if the omega was entirely unwilling. Despite all of Severus’ half-hearted attempts at resistance, this was objective proof that Severus wanted this. Wanted him.
Voldemort drew back slowly, sealing the wound shut with a final lick. He savoured the tremor that rippled through his mate’s body. Severus lay trembling and panting beneath him, pale and drenched in sweat. He shivered as Voldemort’s magic began to work through him, flowing through the newly formed bond. Already, his wounds were starting to knit shut with accelerated healing.
Now that he was bonded soul to soul with Voldemort, as long as Voldemort was alive, Severus could never die.
His beautiful mate, the prettiest omega in the world, would belong to him forever.
Sitting at the side of his bed, Voldemort watched Severus as he slept on, his form luminously pale against the luxurious silk sheets.
Voldemort had left the Shrieking Shack with Severus and Nagini immediately after the bonding. The battle was postponed, the entire war effort temporarily set aside. Voldemort had more important priorities now. What did he care about that idiotic Potter brat, when Voldemort had just bound his soul to the prettiest omega in existence? Instead, Voldemort had placed Severus into a magical slumber and Apparated back to Malfoy Manor with Severus in his arms. He had moved Severus to his chambers in his private wing. Resting would help his mate to recover more quickly as the healing magic worked its way through his body.
Voldemort drank in the sight of every delicate line of his mate’s face, free at last of that deliberately unattractive glamour that Severus had cast on himself. Severus’ beauty was striking even in slumber - the smooth paleness of his skin, his long dark lashes fluttering on occasion as he dreamed, his beautiful lips soft and parted at each pass of breath.
Voldemort's gaze travelled lower down, roving over Severus' naked body. He'd stripped Severus of his robes before placing Severus in his bed, lying on his side with his face turned towards Voldemort. Every inch of Severus was flawless perfection. His pale skin was soft and almost luminous. His body was trim with muscle where it should be, and also curvy in all the right places - his limbs long and slender, his hips wide, his ass round and tight. The thought of ravishing that perfect ass, of having Severus' strong, slim legs wrapped around his body as Voldemort fucked him, made his pulse quicken with thrill.
Voldemort paid no attention to Severus' cock. That was the least important part of an omega.
Instead, Voldemort reached out and gave Severus' ass a proprietary squeeze, followed by a light slap. The ass cheeks were firm and perfectly bouncy under his palm. Severus shifted faintly in his sleep, a small shudder running through his entire body as he squirmed unconsciously.
Even in his unconscious movements, Severus was incredibly alluring. He truly was the most heartbreakingly beautiful omega Voldemort had ever seen. All alphas wanted omegas of their own, but omegas were incredibly rare, outnumbered by alphas more than ten to one, as it took a significant amount of tragedy and suffering to trigger a person to transform into an omega. The greater the heartache, the more beautiful the person would be in their final omega form. How much Severus must have suffered in order to become so exquisitely beautiful.
Any other alpha might have felt sorry for the tormented, tragic beauty before him. But since it was Voldemort, the evil Dark Lord, all he felt as he stared at his mate, so vulnerable and defenceless in his sleep, so ethereally and achingly gorgeous, was gloating pride. As well as profound, possessive satisfaction.
Mine.
Forever.
And the mating bite had done more than simply claim Severus, bonding the most beautiful omega in the wizarding world to Voldemort for eternity. Bonding with Severus had also stabilised Voldemort’s mind. As their souls intertwined, when Voldemort’s tattered, fragmented soul merged with Severus’ whole, perfect one, sanity had returned to Voldemort in a flash.
He realised that with each Horcrux that he had made, a part of his intelligence and capacity for emotion had been sacrificed. After splitting his soul into seven parts, he had been barely rational, and unable to feel anything except anger and hatred. Now, with his sanity restored, looking back on the actions he had taken in the last few years, Voldemort realised how blind he had been, how many blatant mistakes and obvious errors he had made. Such as his unnecessarily complex schemes to kill Harry Potter. That idiotic boy was an irrelevance. Voldemort was already immortal; Potter was not. All he needed to do was outlive Potter and he would win without lifting a finger.
Because of this, Voldemort still did not regret making his Horcruxes. In fact, that had been one of his best ideas. They were necessary for his immortality - of course he had to make them. His disposable Horcrux victims were acceptable sacrifices.
But not Severus.
Now that he was more reasonable again, Voldemort did regret that his past self had hurt Severus so badly, even though it had all worked out perfectly in the end. He reached out, gently tracing the now unmarked skin on Severus’ delicate, slender neck with his fingers. It was unimaginable to him now that he could have considered killing Severus for even a moment, even for something like the Elder Wand.
Perhaps he could simply let Severus use the Elder Wand. As his bonded omega, Severus had no choice but to obey Voldemort and would not be able to act against him. Voldemort could use his original wand instead. It had served him well for his entire career.
The flow of magic between them slowed, then stopped. The healing process was complete.
Pleased, Voldemort stood up and drew his wand.
“Ennervate.”