Part 3 - Enchantment
Three months ago…
A cursing Harry stumbled on a tree root as he trudged his way through the Forbidden Forest. Forbidden my ass!… humph! At the rate he and his friends come here, it was close to being the hottest nightspot on this side of England. The trees were so thick that the light of the full moon hardly ever permeated the area.
Shit! Another tree root. It was just his luck to lose to Ron at chess, making him the unwilling volunteer to gather a fresh bunch of karas—the rare flower they used for Potions. They had just botched up their term project, wasting the supply Snape had provided. Unfortunately, the flower bloomed only during the full moon at a certain part of the forest.
After ambling around for what seemed like forever, Harry arrived at the spot. The dark blue petals of the plant shone in the night. He bent and picked three. A heady scent filled his nostrils. His spine tingled involuntarily. He remembered something Snape mentioned in Potions. According to legend, karas grew near enchanted ground—fairy ground. But the fairies were so good in hiding their territory that a person may never stumble across such a place in his lifetime unless the creatures themselves have a purpose for showing him there.
Maybe I’m near fairy ground. Harry smiled at the thought. Nah! Who would possibly be interested in plain, old Harry Potter?
Suddenly he felt a shove from behind. Harry had an impression of shimmering air before sleep overcame him and collapsed on the soft ground beneath.
In another part of the forest…
Tom Riddle stumbled on a root.
Blast it! Soon enough, the offending root disappeared, shattered into invisible bits. Tom fixed his robes and walked straight ahead. He was Lord Voldemort. How embarrassing to be defeated by a tiny little root. He hated passing through the Forbidden forest this way. It reminded him too much of his dark days when he was barely alive. But, as they say, that was the past. This is now.
With a grim smile, Tom brushed a lock of sable hair from his forehead. He was certainly easy on the eyes now. His elegant, aquiline looks were back. His skin was tan and unlined, his bearing tall and straight. Only the dark crimson eyes showed a vestige of who he really was. Men and women offered themselves to him in countless abandon that he could hardly take note of his number of lovers—having been denied the joys of the flesh for years. Yes, Tom enjoyed life, but power was still his priority.
Tonight, he was on his way to kill Harry Potter.
The little twerp was probably huddled in his warm bed, asleep like a baby. The kid won’t know what’s coming to him. Granted, this mission was very dangerous, what with Dumbledore so near. That’s why Tom decided to deal with it himself. As soon as he gets within range of Dumbledore’s senses, he would have to transform into a snake. It would be easier that way. Risky, but worth it. The Potter boy’s existence annoyed him to no end. The brat kept on thwarting his best-laid plans. But, from this night on, there would be no trouble from Harry Potter.
(And no trouble from you either, if you’re caught.) A little voice whispered in his head. (You know Dumbledore could easily kill you in your Animagus form. )
If I kill the little shit, it would be worth it.
Without warning, Tom felt a shove, then darkness.
Tom opened his eyes slowly. He felt like he had slept for hours. No… was he captured by that muggle-loving fool? He sat up and whipped around, surveying his surroundings.
He seemed to be in a clearing, surrounded by thick cypress trees. The moon shone directly above and the air shimmered with magic. Enchanted ground? He would have thought more about it had not something arrested his attention. He was lying in a very large, cushioned basket, entirely sprinkled with red and white rose petals. He was also quite naked, robe and wand out of sight. And right in front of him was a boy, a young, beautiful, perfect teenager, his skin flushed with sleep, naked as the day he was born.
Tom immediately tried to hop off the makeshift bed but an invisible barrier blocked his efforts. Shit! Now he needed his wand. But wait… he wasn’t the great Lord Voldemort for nothing.
He flexed his fingers and prepared the chant for a bit of wand less magic—a little something he learned from his traveling days. He tried to blast his way out of there but the barrier just absorbed the spell. Great.
He turned his attention to the naked boy and felt something stir in his groin at the sight. He looked amazing. Sweet, innocent, and pliant, lying there like an offering.
Is that what he is?
Tom moved closer and leaned for a closer look. The boys eyelids fluttered open. They were green. A deep sea green. Pale skin. Black hair a little long and endearingly askew. Nubile body. The perfect sex toy.
“Good evening. At least I think its still night.”
“Who are you?” The boy put a hand to his forehead and tried to sit up. “Where am I?”
Tom relaxed on one arm. “I have no idea. I was hoping you could tell me.”
“I don’t know either but I was just gathering flowers when…” he gasped, “I’m naked!”
Harry looked at his companion who was now wearing an amused, almost bored, expression. “You’re naked too!”
“I noticed. Nope, that won’t work, the barrier won’t give. I tried everything.” He watched as the young man beat the shield with his fists.
Harry slumped back dejectedly, palms quite tender from trying to tear at the shield. He looked quite forlorn, sitting like that. Tom licked his lips. Maybe this wasn’t such a lost cause.
“Why don’t we entertain ourselves for a while…” he started, voice thick with desire. This kid sure made him horny as hell, and he hasn’t even done anything yet.
“What should we do?”
“Well, I have a few suggestions…” Tom leaned closer, trapping the boy between his arms. The youth was looking at him with a mixture of fear, surprise, and desire. Yup, it was definitely there. But unchecked. A virgin—this was going to be better than he thought. Breaking innocence was a rare pleasure. And he intended to savor this.
He kissed the soft mouth. Yielding, hot. He let his tongue travel on the smooth skin while his hands swept teasingly across the toned chest. So delicate. Quite unlike his own lean, muscled form. He was hot espresso. This youth was pure milk.
The boy moaned. Yes… yield to me.
Tom lifted his head from the licking and surveyed the flushed face before him. The youth’s head was thrown back, his body arched upwards eagerly. His longish hair swept from his face and revealed his forehead. And the distinctive, lightning-shaped scar.
Tom hopped back instantly, as if burned. No, it couldn’t be. But, the scar… Yes. It was Harry Potter. But he looks so different from two years ago. Tom buried his face in his hands.
“What’s the matter?” He felt warm hands on his own. “Don’t you… don’t you want me?”
Beseeching. Hesitant. So young. “Do you find me ugly?” So sad.
Tom sighed. “Nothing could be further from the truth.” He looked into the troubled green eyes of his almost-lover. He had to tell him. Funny, he couldn’t imagine killing him now. You’re getting soft, Voldie.
“Harry…I came here to kill you tonight.”
A startled gasp. Denial.
“Yes. I am Voldemort.”
The silence stretched. Tom felt like dying. Why in hell does he feel so guilty. Lord Voldemort must have no remorse. He hasn’t even done anything yet. Uh-huh. You just molested him a bit.
“Why don’t you kill me?” His tone was soft, unsure, and slightly afraid. Harry was kneeling, looking at his hands on his legs.
Tom put his hand on his chin and lifted his face ‘til they were looking eye to eye. He felt crazy, reckless, and stupid. And also rather wonderful. He plunged on.
“I have no idea but I can’t. Not that I’m sorry or anything.” He chuckled softly. “You must be a fairy… that was some spell you cast over me.”
A flicker of hope in the green. Tom smiled, and Harry’s breath caught. He had never laid eyes on anything more captivating than that smile. If this was Lord Voldemort then the Dark Lord was sure one sexy son of a bitch. Perfect, lean muscles on the tall frame. Tanned skin stretching across every divine inch of him. The wide mouth, separating to reveal white straight teeth. High cheekbones, aquiline nose, and dark, dark locks. The crimson eyes stared at him, mocking, teasing.
Harry leaned forward a little. “I… I think I want you, Tom.”
Surprise. “You don’t hate me?” The boy shook his head. “Then let me show you how to taste me.”
They were out of there by morning. It was a love spell. How quaint. They certainly made love enough times to break it. Of course, for both, it was only the beginning.
<End of Flashback>
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