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Heavy pants echoed down the long cold corridor of the ward. His hand clutched his bleeding shoulder, the splats of blood from the wound tainted the floor in a chaotic trail. He whimpered as he skittered around a corner, the sharp turn causing his shoulder to pulse with hot white pain.
The dark corridor seemed to last forever, like an endless maze filled with doors that lead to nothing but agony and torment.
The corridors were all the same, white, grey and sickening green that made him want to vomit, every turn he thought he was in the same corridor, going around in circles like a twisted merry-go-round.
The low growls and thuds from the monster came closer – he cried as he tried to run faster, his legs aching for a break.
He could only feel relief when he reached the emergency exit, his body slamming against the thick metal handle.
It wouldn’t open.
He screamed, forcing his whole body against the door that wouldn’t budge.
The monster laughed from behind him, he could hear it slowly walk towards him like it was playing a sick game of cat and mouse with him.
Tears streamed down his face as he turned around, body pressed against the emergency door – he stared at the monster in dismay as he realised he had nowhere to run.
He was going to die.
The monster paused, standing in the dark hallway not far from him, tilting its head as it watched him with its horrible red eyes.
The man panted, squinting his eyes up at the monster, his face twisting at the sight of the freak in front of him. “You’re not one of us,” he rasped out, shoulder bleeding heavily, his blood dripping down on the floor below him. “Everyone will find out eventually, they’ll start asking questions once they notice I’m gone. You won’t get away with killing me!”
The monster looked down at him cooly, “Which is why,” it began smoothly, “I have others to help me with that.”
The man’s brows furrowed, “What–”
He gasped, grey eyes widening in terror.
Another monster was with it, except this one was different . . .
His own face stared back at him.
“What a pretty face you have,” the other said back at him, its smile turning into a wide grin that revealed unnatural sharp teeth.
“What a disappointment,” the monster said to him, “I had high hopes for you, your loyalty was unmatched. You had so much potential, Regulus.”
Regulus glared at Voldemort, standing tall as he curled his hands into fists, “YOU RAPED MY BROTHER’S GOD-SON!”
Regulus’s body shook with fury and pain, his face crumbling as he tried to stop tears from trickling down his face.
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed at Regulus’s words, its body tensed.
Fake-Regulus growled and took a step towards him, hands itching to grab and kill.
Voldemort raised his arm, blocking the fake-Regulus.
“No,” Voldemort said, “I want to have the pleasure of killing this one. Leave us, Nagini.”
Regulus watched as his fake’s face twisted, looking scorned and disappointed, Nagini glared at him as it turned and prowled away down the dark hallway. Regulus watched the creature walk away, disguised as a convincing copy of himself. He slumped against the door – hope leaving his body.
He breathed.
He looked up.
His vision flooded with red.
Regulus screamed.
* * *
Voldemort dropped the body on the kitchen counter, blood dripped down onto the clean tiles of the kitchen floor. Voldemort turned away from the mangled corpse, humming as it washed its hands and grabbed a butcher’s knife from the knife block.
The steel tables and black and white counters and red double doors made the place look more like one of their medical bays rather than a kitchen.
The kitchen was dark – it was after hours, late in the night, no one but it was on sight in the ward during these hours.
Well, no one but Voldemort and Regulus.
Voldemort turned around, butcher’s knife in hand, and stared at the corpse of its ex-follower.
Regulus’s black hair was slick with blood, his neck was twisted and face contorted in a frozen look of horror. His tears stained his face as well as the blood that coated half of his body. The man’s body had multiple marks of teeth and torn skin, his left hand is holding on by a thick patch of skin that hasn’t yet been torn apart.
Voldemort couldn’t help himself when it killed.
It would have liked it to have been a cleaner kill, but alas.
Regulus wasn’t meant to die tonight, Voldemort glared at the corpse in dismay as it thought about the other who had personally attacked Harry: Lestrange. Voldemort had planned out its death so thoroughly and then Regulus had to come in and do what he did.
Nagini would be cleaning up his mess.
Voldemort lay down the butcher’s knife on the table and grasped a bowie knife from a cabinet below the table.
Hours later, Voldemort had extracted the meat from the body – it was finishing cleaning the kitchen when the doors opened.
Voldemort turned, eyes staring into Nagini’s fake grey ones.
“You are late,” Voldemort hissed, it turned and roughly picked up the body parts it packaged in black bags and dumped them on the trolley Nagini pulled in along with them. “Be quick with it!”
Nagini blinked and slowly turned around and pushed the trolley through the doors again.
* * *
Harry sat awkwardly in his chair, he clinked his cutlery as he stared anxiously up at Voldemort and back to his plate again. His plate consisted of rich-looking meat, strange herbs and some sort of rice that he’s never seen before. Harry politely smiled at Voldemort before eating a small piece of meat.
“Do you like it, Harry?” Voldemort asked, tilting its head as if curious.
“Uh,” Harry said after he swallowed, “It tastes like pork.”
Voldemort blinked, “Is that a good thing?”
Harry twiddled with his fork, “Uhm, well, I’m not a huge fan of pork. . . but from what I’ve had of it in the past, this is quite nice.”
Voldemort seemed pleased with that response, it leaned forward using its hand as a head rest as it stared at him with its red eyes – its eyes gleamed with something that Harry had never seen before. It both unnerved him and interested him.
“I’m glad, I prepared the food myself. I wanted our first dinner together to be special.”
“Thank you,” Harry said quietly, a blush covering his face which he tried to suppress. “I – you really didn’t need to.”
Voldemort smiled and hummed, “But I wanted to, you deserve it all, Harry.” Voldemort paused, biding the comfortable silence with drinking from a wine glass. “How are you feeling? You must still be shaken up by what happened last week.”
Harry blinked rapidly, eyes glistening for a moment before turning back to his almost empty plate.
“Oh,” he said quietly, a wave of emotions coming over him like a tsunami, “uhm, that’s really . . . nice of you to ask. I’m okay, thank you.”
“And Quill?”
“Quill’s been sleeping better,” Harry started slowly. “He’s been doing well, he’s liking my music – from the bass you gifted me, he likes the sound . . . it sends him to sleep.” Harry smiled softly.
Voldemort paused before nodding with a small smile, “I am glad.”
Voldemort looked away from Harry – staring at the glossy table in fake interest, his eyes wandered into another place, unfocusing as his mind drifted.
Harry stayed silent.
“I would like you to know something,” Voldemort said quietly, “But not here.”
“Okay,” Harry said, hesitantly putting his fork on the plate and standing up.
* * *
Harry followed Voldemort back into his quarters again, they walked in and sat in the far corner of the room on a beanbag, shaking their head back and forth like they were listening to a song, was another alien – it was shorter than most of them, at least half the size of Voldemort, and it wore a silver snake mask.
At least Harry thought it was supposed to be a snake mask.
The mask’s mouth was elongated, it curved into a smile near the edges and had long top and bottom fangs. The mask’s muzzle was shaped not unlike a real snake’s face, the breathing holes were cut in harsh sharp lines that resembled swirls. The eye holes were tiny, two small black slits that curved horizontally, stretching until it was just near the edge of the mask.
Harry stared at the masked creature, his heart hammering and eyes widening. He bee-lined for the crib and immediately checked on his sleeping son, ignoring everyone else in the room, Harry watched as his son slept soundly and sighed in his sleep. Harry’s shoulders slumped, his hands gripped the crib tightly, he side eyed the creature that still sat rocking its head back and forth on the beanbag.
Voldemort looked at it, irritated. It clicked its fingers loudly and the creature looked up and slowly stood up from sitting down, walking towards Voldemort almost robotically.
“You, out.” Voldemort pointed to the door, “Leave us.”
When the creature turned around to leave the door, Harry noticed it had thick black long hair. The mask is strapped to its face by a velcro (Harry assumed it was velcro or this place’s equivalent to that).
The door closed with a soft click.
“You needn’t worry about them,” Voldemort said gently, “I personally chose them to watch other Quill while you were gone with me, they have my trust and I can assure you that they wouldn’t ever lay harm on the boy.”
Harry breathed out deeply, looking away from the door and staring at his son – body tingling with unease.
“What’s with the mask?” Harry asked.
Voldemort looked at Quill as it stepped towards Harry, “They prefer to hide their face,” it answered simply.
Harry nodded, eyeing Voldemort from the corner of his eye.
“What is it you wanted to tell me?”
“I would like you to see me,” Voldemort answered smoothly, “The real me.”
Harry’s eyes furrowed as he stared at the alien before him, standing with one hand holding the crib. He nodded slowly.
The first thing to change was Voldemort’s eyes.
The crimson red reptilian-like eyes changed into a dark chocolate brown, eyes that had more shine and soul in them than the previous. Its pale skin changed from its translucent tone and blossomed into something that looked human, flushed with blood and life – Voldemort’s face had a light shade of pink that Harry thought was something that was supposed to resemble a blush – and he had a nose, a human nose. The vampire-like fangs retreated, his skin no longer looked like it had scales either.
For the first that Harry had seen it, Voldemort looked less like a creepy statue and more like a human being.
And it looked–
He?
He looked very very hot.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
Harry’s jaw went slack, mouth hanging open in shock and green eyes growing wide.
Voldemort smiled.
Harry flushed.
“Wow,” Harry said dumbly.
Voldemort’s eyes lit up from Harry’s response, he walked towards him and gently tugged Harry towards the bed in the corner, they both sat down.
Harry continued to stare at Voldemort, eyes wide with disbelief.
Voldemort looked away and stared at the crib, where their son lay, mind racing with so many emotions and the loud screams of Regulus.
“YOU RAPED MY BROTHER’S GOD-SON!”
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed, he could find no lie in the statement, there wasn’t one. He did harm to this human that now sat beside him, staring at him like he was an ancient statue that was lost to time. Voldemort turned to face Harry, whose green eyes looked adorable in the low lighting of the human’s room, the human’s face was flushed from head to toe.
But as Voldemort looked into those green eyes, he could not find no true regret for ever doing this to the human.
He should, it was wrong.
But he liked it.
He liked the way the human felt around him.
He liked the way his green eyes stared up at him in pain and lust.
He liked to see him grow big with his kin.
Voldemort loved knowing that the human was his. He was the one to first lay claim on the small creature, he was the one who had created life with him.
He wanted that again.
But he couldn’t.
Not if he wanted the human to run away – to fear him.
He wanted the human to love him the way he loves him.
He needed that.
Voldemort never thought he would be caring for something so fragile. He never thought he would see other as the same.
But Harry was special.
The human was his.
Voldemort’s gaze drifted to Harry’s lips, so pink and soft, he slowly leaned closer to the small human – carefully watching him to see if he backed away.
He didn’t.
Harry blinked as Voldemort came closer and closer into his space, Harry didn’t resist – hypnotized by Voldemort’s pretty brown eyes as he was gently kissed on the lips, Voldemort softly caressing his face with his hand as he slowly pressed Harry forward until he was flat on his back on the bed.
Harry’s heart hammered rapidly in his chest as he felt Voldemort’s weight on him, he was so shocked by the way Voldemort held him, like he was made out of glass and not like a toy used for pleasure. Harry made himself relax into the kiss, hesitantly kissing the alien back and sighing as he felt the softness of Voldemort’s mouth on his.
It actually felt quite . . . nice.
Maybe it was the fact that Voldemort looked like something that could pass as human. Maybe it was the fact that Harry had gone for so long without human contact or affection.
He didn’t care right now.
What were a few moments of pleasure anyway?
He needed this.
Harry raised a trembling hand to Voldemort's shoulder blade, body shaking as the kiss deepened and felt more than heard Voldemort groan against him.
Voldemort began to gently tug on Harry’s t-shirt, Harry let Voldemort tug the shirt off him – slowly lifting his arms up as the shirt was taken off him and thrown on the floor carelessly. Harry did the same to Voldemort’s shirt, almost automatically that Harry didn’t even register himself doing it.
He blinked and he and Voldemort were suddenly naked from top to bottom.
Harry panted and shakily looked back into Voldemort’s dark eyes, yet he couldn’t find any malicious intent in them. In fact, Harry couldn’t find anything but softness and . . . fear?
Voldemort’s two cocks were semi-erect, the alien hovered over Harry’s body – Harry felt something slick and warm rushing from him.
Oh.
So he still had whatever these aliens did to him.
“B-be gentle, please,” Harry whispered.
Voldemort nodded, “I will be, of course I will be.”
Voldemort leaned down to gently kiss Harry again and Harry let himself forget where he was for the short time being. Voldemort’s lips moved over Harry’s softly, the alien giving him light careful nips and sucking onto his lower lip. Harry moaned.
Voldemort slowly nudged the tip of one of his cocks against Harry’s slicked hole, making sure to kiss the human below him when he steadily entered him to distract him from the sensations. Voldemort petted his flank soothingly.
“Open yourself up for me, sweetcake. Yes, that’s it, good boy.” Voldemort praised him, whispering words that made Harry pant.
Harry felt a spark of pleasure that made his belly tingle from the praise, he gently grasped onto Voldemort’s shoulders as he felt the alien move further inside him.
Voldemort moaned into Harry’s mouth as he pushed into him all the way. Harry groaned at the sensation of feeling so full and warm.
Voldemort peppered kisses around Harry’s lips and slowly moved towards his neck and started sucking, while he began to gently thrust in him. Harry closed his eyes as he felt Voldemort’s cock hit a spot that he hadn’t felt in so long that he was rolling his eyes into the back of his head and moaning loudly.
Voldemort slammed into him, picking up the pace as he began to bite and suck on Harry’s neck, saviouring the taste of blood on his lips and the feeling of Harry’s warm walls on his cock. Voldemort groaned lowly into Harry’s neck.
“You feel incredible, sweetcake,” he hissed.
“Please,” Harry gasped, tears escaping his eyes – he squeezed them shut as he felt Voldemort hit back into him again and again. “Please. Please.”
Harry didn’t even know what he was begging for anymore,
He just wanted to feel Voldemort’s arms wrapped around him, he wanted him to cover him in a soft blanket and whisper sweet nothings to him.
He didn’t want to let go.
“Whatever you want,” Voldemort gasped, “you will have it.”
Voldemort slowed down his pace once he felt the signs of his climax rising. He pressed himself against the human roughly, loving the way the walls squeezed around him, he loved it when he pressed against the human’s prostate and watched as his face twisted into pleasure, he loved hearing the pants and moans from him – like a siren’s song he needed to hear again and again.
Voldemort kissed Harry's soft lips again, shoving his tongue in the small human’s mouth. Voldemort practically inhaled the human, tasting his scent that made him crazy for him.
Voldemort sped up, now desperate for it to end and for the after-glow to kick in already so he could hold his human in his arms.
Just as he felt himself about to finally let go, Harry grasped onto his arm and looked up at him with wide scared green eyes.
“Please,” he whispered, “don’t get me pregnant again. Not yet, at least.”
“I won’t,” Voldemort promised, while slightly disappointed, he would do as his human told him so.
And so when Voldemort pressed himself deep inside the human, groaning as he felt his knot swell into place and lock them together – his release spilling in the small human, he felt nothing but contempt.
Harry moaned softly as he felt himself shake as his orgasm washed over him.
Voldemort turned them around so that he lay on his back and Harry lay on top of him, Voldemort whispering his praises as he kissed the human on the forehead.
“You did so well, sweetcake. You did so good,” he kissed him softly, grabbed the blanket cover and threw it over them, “You took me so well, my good boy, my good little human.”
As much as Voldemort would have loved to see his little human become full of his child again, he would have to wait for a little longer – after all, he’s already got one child to take care of right now, patience is virtue and with time he will get what he desires – comfort with his human.
Harry hummed and gently lay his head over Voldemort’s chest, listening to the soft thumps of the alien’s heartbeat, not unlike his own, which fluttered rapidly.
Harry yawned as he felt Voldemort begin to pet his hair, though he could not find the energy to care that he was covered in gross fluids. He felt safe.
Harry groaned into Voldemort’s chest as he felt himself getting too full for comfort, as he drifted off he vaguely felt Voldemort wrap his arm around his body and begin to caress his stomach gently.