Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the Slytherin Heirs	By : SilverAngel621 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 9448 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I make nothing from this fic.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
Chapter 15

Flashback

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. You did great, Salazar!” Harry beamed at his son but the child looked unimpressed.
“It was mediocre efforts at best. But I thank you for the exaggerations all the same. Good day.” Salazar nodded, already gathering up his books. He missed the crestfallen look over Harry's face. But Harry quickly forced a smile when Salazar looked up again.
“You know, it's only two in the afternoon, I was thinking we could-“
“I have fencing lessons so I will have to decline.”
Harry watched after his son's back as he left the room. He was so wonderful, so smart (what six year old spoke like him?) and polite. Almost too polite most of the time. Harry suspected Salazar used it as a shield against him. But this was progress. A month ago, Salazar had only responded with single words.
“How are the lessons coming along?” Tom appeared in the doorway of the makeshift classroom. Harry no longer flinched when Tom came into the room, so that was another progress he'd made.
It had been strange. Initially, Harry hadn't known his place here. He didn't want to fight anymore, and hadn’t wanted to for a long time before their duel. But he just hadn't found a good reason to stop. Not until Salazar. He would have done anything-anything-to have been able to stay with Salazar. But so far, Tom had requested nothing from him. He was just waiting for the day Tom would ask. And no matter what he asked for, Harry's answer would be a resounding yes.
“I've made progress. I'm getting more than one word answers so…” Harry shrugged. Who would have thought he would be the bad parent and Tom the good one.
“I saw Salazar heading to his fencing lesson. So that frees up your afternoon.” It wasn't a question but Harry nodded nonetheless. “Then come, walk with me,” Tom gallantly held the door open. Harry made sure he had his wand secured in his wrist holster. Just because he didn't flinch anymore didn't mean he would ever be without his wand when with Tom.
They exited the manor and Tom lead him out towards the immaculate gardens. Neat hedges of thorny rose bushes and curved overhangs with curling vines created a beautiful haven. In the middle of the large garden, there was a life size maze. Bright yellow flowers decorated the hedge that made up the maze. Harry tended to avoid the maze since it reminded him so Mach of the last triwizard task.
Tom broke the silence first. “I would like to speak to you about your place here.”
This was it. Tom would ask him for his submission and Harry would say yes. What other option did he have? He could never leave his son. Again. “Yes?”
“The war is over. There are only a few more order members left and my death eaters are already hunting them down. Those who live will face a trial. This is a new world Harry. The only question is where would you like your place to be?”
Harry was mildly surprised. “You would let me choose?”
Tom smiled down at him. Harry was reminded of the boy he'd seen in the diary-so full of dangerous and calculated charm. Even as a boy he was scheming for power.
“Of course. As my horcrux, you have limited choices but choices none the less. You can continue to fight you and you will loose the little regard Salazar holds for all on your own. I will not have to do anything. Or join my side and work for my cause. You will not have to do anything beyond showing up for the occasional public gatherings. Your presence alone will lend my cause support. It will be no different than how the order used you.”
Harry couldn’t resist asking him “How could you be any different from the order? You're the man who kept me captive.”
“Did they not also keep you captive? They took away your childhood, forced you to believe you were the only one who could fight me. And I am different from the man you knew.” Tom picked up Harry's slack hand and bowed over their entwined hands like a gentleman. He brushed his lips over the lax fingers. Tom’s stubble scraped over the thin skin stretched over Harry's knuckles. “Having my soul spread over seven horcruxes changed me, for the worse. I was only aware of half of what I did. But now that I have brought my horcruxes closer I am much more sane. I was consumed by a rage that I-unfortunately took out on you. I played recklessly with you. But I see your value now. I wouldn’t cage you in with threats and keep you locked away in a room to wither away. I'd give you free reign over your life.”
How easily he spoke away the terrible years in his hands. But Harry was so tempted to believe that it had only been the horcruxes and their dark magic that made Tom that way. But it was magic that was still affecting him, as he hadn't reunited the horcruxes, just put them in closer proximity to him.
“You’d let me go free?” It was a rhetorical question. Tom would never let him be free, and on the off chance he did the order would want him back. If not the order, then some other society or state interested in his power. He would always be captive to the title of the boy who lived, never free of the shackles of his own name.
Tom released Harry's hand and looked up, eyes full of an enticing menace. He maneuvered that hand to rest upon his forearm. Underneath his palm and the layers of clothes, Harry felt the ripple of muscles. It was the feeling one got when petting a dangerous tiger, feeling all that feral power under one’s fingertips and seeing how far you could touch it until it snapped and leaped on you.
Tom's low chuckling sounded in his ear. “I’d never be as foolish as to do that. I’d keep you locked up in a gilded cage, displayed for my pleasure. You can be with Salazar forever, making up for all those lost years. But don’t worry, I’ll let you out to play, of course. I want to see how sweet you can taste, how intoxicating your surrender will be. I’ll brand you with my scent, my touch until you know you’re mine without needing any kind of cage. You won’t be my captive, you’ll be my obsession.”
His words were threat, clear and simple. Fear had his heart pounding, and he shook his head in distress. He couldn't go through with that again, not ever. Intimacy, sex, it was forever ruined for him. He'd survived war, but he couldn't survive that again.
“No…” Harry put his hands out to Tom's shoulder, exerting little pressure. His nails dug into the tense muscles there.
“Yesss,” he hissed forcefully, his lips at the corner of his mouth. “I showed you my anger last time, let me show you my lust.”
“No, Tom, I said no!” With a burst of magical energy, Harry pushed Tom away. Hyperventilating on his sobs, Harry backed away until his back met cool stone and he could breath free again. “I won't let you this time, Tom. Remember I am as much the wands master as you are.”
Dropping all façade of the charming man he was before, Tom growled. “How could I forget when you constantly bring it up?”
Harry glared right back at him. “I won't let you do that to me anymore! You won't force me.”
Tom smiled manically, giving Harry whiplash from the quick turn of his emotions. “It will not be force if you ask for it.”
Grinding his teeth, Harry fisted his hands. “Then let me amend that. I will never ask for it!” Harry turned from him and walked back to the manor. He couldn't have one meaningful conversation with the man. In his anger he missed the calculating gleam in the the older wizards red eyes.
He was livid…fuming! What a fool he'd been. Of all the things he'd taught Tom might ask of him, he foolishly hadn't considered the wizard would want his body. Yes, Tom had raped him but it had never been about sex or lust or want. All Harry had felt had been pain and anger and humiliation. What he'd suffered through could never be called sex. He couldn't even fathom being so vulnerable with a person again, let alone with Tom of all people.
He'd tried, Merlin had had he tried. Colin Creevy, the kid that used to follow and idolize him at Hogwarts had practically swooned at his feet but one look at those innocent, hopeful eyes and Harry knew he couldn't use the boy to heal himself. Ginny had continued her pursuit but he hadn't been able to bear her touch. So he'd turned to strangers but as soon as their fumbling fingers went to his pants, Harry had panicked and left immediately. He'd decided he was too damaged for such things so he'd concentrated his all to the war efforts.
The green eyed boy moved rapidly through the empty hallways. The few death eaters he met on his way gave him a wide berth. Only one though braved the young man's considerable wrath.
Pale hands curled over Harry's wrist and brought him to a stumbling stop. Harry whipped out his wand and held it to his attackers jugular, panting from surprise.
Severus Snape practically threw Harry's arm back at him as if the limb personally offended him. He sneered down his long nose at his former student, despite the weapon at his vulnerable throat.
“Put away that wand unless you intend to use it, Potter.” Harry glared but nonetheless lowered his trembling hand and shoved it back into his holster. “Follow me.” He turned with a dramatic swirl of his flowing robes. Harry opened his mouth to yell he was no longer a student under the man's tyranny but the man had already turned a corner. Harry stomped after him to see the man disappear into a small chamber. When he pushed open the door he saw Severus sitting in an armchair with an entire afternoon tea set in front of him.
“Sit.”
Harry sat opposite him in a comfortable leather couch. He opened his mouth but the professor held up a hand. He set about preparing three cups of tea. He prepared one completely black with a dash of cinnamon powder and slices of fire-ginger. He made another with honey and jasmine extract and the last with sugar and milk. To all of them he added a light purple potion. He slid the sugar and milk in front of Harry before taking a sip of the cinnamon and fire-ginger.
“Drink.”
“I am not a dog.” Hart never the less lifted the cup and took a halting sip. Severus noticed.
“Poison is a cowards way. If I were to kill you, I would use the killing curse Potter.”
Harry slammed the cup down. “As if you could. Your precious dark lord couldn't manage to kill me so what chance do you have?”
Severus narrowed his dark eyes at the mess he'd made on the table. He took out his want to clean up the spilled liquid. “Insolent boy. When you are in a den of snakes, you should make sure you do everything to not get bitten.”
“What do you want from me?”
“You have nothing I want. I am here to actually help you, if you bother to listen to me.”
Harry snorted. “Right, like I'd want help from the man who hates me and left me to Tom's devices. Have you had a change of heart perhaps? Being a death eater not lucrative anymore? Tom isn't offering health care efforts anymore so you thought you'd curry favor with me?
“Just like your father. Selfish and flippant. Do you really think the entire world revolves around you Potter? That only you have faced loss?”
Never one to reign in his temper, Harry jumped up and yelled. “I've lost everything. Everyone. My mother, my father. My friends. My childhood. I've even lost my son even before I'd had the chance to hold him. What have you lost you greasy git? A bottle of shampoo perhaps?”
Severus didn't react to the outburst. Instead his eyes flicked to the open doorway. Harry followed his gaze and saw Salazar at the door, a look of surprise on his young face.
“Salazar…I…” Harry floundered, not knowing how to excuse his childish outburst.
Severus came to the rescue. “You always knock Salazar, no matter if the door is open or closed.”
The boy inclined his head, a smirk lurking over his thin lips. “Of course Severus.” As he walked further into a room and headed to the armchair next to Severus, he shared a fleeting smirk with Harry before schooling his face back to a familiar blank mask and sat in his chair. But just that shared bit of amusement warmed Harry like a blazing fire in the heart of winter. He had caused that, he'd made his son smile.
Severus snapped his wand over the young boy's knees. “Sit up straight.” Salazar grit his teeth but did as told with a belligerent tilt of his chin. So Harry wasn't the only one the dungeon bat annoyed. Harry dropped back to his seat.
The three sat in awkward silence as they drank their tea. Harry was the one to break the silence. “So, um, afternoon tea, is that a thing you two do?” He was already scheming of ways to see how he could be a part of it.
Salazar put down his cup on his saucer with nary a rattle and looked to Severus for permission before explaining. “Yes, Severus thinks it is good to relax with a good cup of tea before I start my occulmency lessons.”
“Already?”
Severus nodded. “It is important for the heir of Slytherin to protect himself to his best ability. He will not always have his father and death eaters to protect him.”
“I'll be there to protect him,” Harry snapped, annoyed at not being included in the list of people expected to protect his own son.
Severus inclined his head. “Of course. I thought I would kill two birds with one stone by teaching you as well. As part of the Riddle household, you too are a target and should be properly trained. Your show during the department of mysteries fiasco showed just how well the order fools taught you.”
Harry wanted to argue but all the professor said was true. Moody had been a terrible teacher, unlike the man who'd taught him so much during his fourth year. Only later he'd learned it had been Barty Crouch Jr. who'd used the polyjuice potion to infiltrate the school.
“And Tom approved this?”
Severus evaded the question. “He approved you being present during the lessons, since he understands your desperation to spend time with your son.” Harry nodded slowly. So Tom didn't know Severus’s intentions. They both looked at Salazar, who was sipping his tea. For his benefit, Severus added, “and he was the one to suggest I train you as well, seeing as how weak your mental shields are, the order can easily use you to infiltrate the manor.”
They were taking a risk, planning something Tom would clearly never approve in front of Salazar so they had to convince the boy it was Tom's idea all along, to lessen the risk of Salazar mentioning it to the dark wizard. Harry didn't know what Severus's intentions were to teach him occulmency but if it gave him another weapon against Tom, then he'd take it.
“So when do we start?”
“We've already started. In the time we've had tea, I've already probed your mind without you noticing a thing at all.”
“What?” Harry screeched. Merlin knew what the man had already seen.
“Don't worry Potter, your thoughts aren't nearly as riveting as you seem to think. There was not much to see. The potion I mixed with your tea will help you to strengthen your mental shields but only with diligent practice will you be able to reach Salazar’s level. Your son is quiet accomplished.”
The young boy preened under the praise, though he seemed like he tried to hide it. Harry smiled. “He is, Salazar is absolutely wonderful.” Salazar stilled and Harry wondered if he'd said too much.
Severus stood up and gestured for them to do so as well. “Come, the practice room is ready and we have already wasted enough time.” Salazar walked ahead of them into the adjoining room. Severus stopped Harry from following. His eyes were shadowed, despite the clear sunny day.
“Pay attention Potter. It will take time before you can protect yourself so all I can say is be wary. Be strong. Do not fall to temptation. You need to weather the pain and learn how to put your needs above others.” He looked pointedly into the room where Salazar was waiting for them. “You cannot protect him if you yourself are infected by the venom of a snake.”
Severus left him and walked into the other room. Harry mulled over the man's cryptic words but they lost all meaning when he heard Salazar asking Severus some questions. He could never put his needs above Salazar’s.

…………………

Harry woke up in the middle of a scream. Their faces, so many faces. Old, young, female, male…endless and they all said the same thing. They all blamed him for their deaths. Some were people he knew, others were the ones he didn't. A few days ago Rita Skeeter had released a complete list of all of the lives lost in war. Tom was having a monument built for them with their names' etched into black marble. Lucius Malfoy had advised it, saying it would gain Tom public favor. Harry was expected to attend the unveiling with Tom.
Harry had had to excuse himself. He'd barely made it out of the room before he'd emptied his stomach’s contents. How many of those lives was he to blame for? Over hundreds, perhaps nearing thousands?
Harry heaved again but here was nothing left in his stomach. His shirt was cling uncomfortably to his clammy skin. Casting a drying charm that only took care of the superficial problem, he reached into his night stand for his potions.
The sleeping potions were harmless when taken occasionally but prolonged use made the person dependent on them. And with each use, the dosage had to be increased for the same effect. He'd started taking the potions after being taken by the order from Tom. They were easy to get fro the various apothecaries but here in the manor where his every move was watched, it was not as easy. But he'd managed to store some of the ingredients away from Severus’s potions lab and made a batch himself. There was nothing in the drawers, though.
“I took the liberty of having the house elves clean out your nightstand.”
Harry wasn't even surprised by Tom's sudden appearance at his bedroom door. He was no longer his worst nightmare.
“I need them back,” Harry gritted out through clenched teeth. He couldn't sleep without them. It had been three nights since he'd a good night sleep, the same amount of time since he'd last taken the highly addictive potion.
Tom walked further into the unlit room. Looming like a dark specter at his side, Tom reached over. His long fingers hovered around his temples.
“I can take the memories from you, make you forget,” he offered.
Harry couldn't see his face, the shadows made it hard to gauge his intentions. He was sorely tempted. To forget all of his responsibilities, his duties, his crimes, his wounds….but there was danger in and of itself. Memories weren't separate things, they were one and fluid, overlapping memory after memory and influencing each other. Just because Tom could take away his wounds, he'd still be left with scars with no memory of how he got them. Bad memories fed into good ones and vice versa. Harry had so little happy memories, they were precious to him and he didn't dare do anything to lose them. So eventually, he shook his head.
Tom cocked his head. “Then let me take away your pain.” Harry was confused. He flinched when cool finger touched his temples and he felt a cold slash of magic wash over his entire body. It soothed over his shaky nerves and stilled his erratic heartbeat. His body felt limp and Harry slumped forward. Tom caught him in his arms and laid him back down.
Leaning down until his smooth shaven cheek brushed against Harry's, Tom whispered in his ear. “Next time you have a nightmare, come to me. This was a one time favor.”
Already cradled in the soothing confines of sleep, Harry nonetheless managed a feeble shake of his head. He wouldn't….
But after another seven days of no sleep after waking from the same nightmare, Harry found himself idling in front of Tom's room in the middle of the night. He was barred from Severus potions labs and all the other potions he'd managed to secret away had been confiscated by the house elves. Withdrawal symptoms were hitting him hard. Shivers, excessive sweating, dizziness, temporary blackouts when he expended too much energy or magic, and the worst-a numbness that encompassed his entire body. He couldn't feel the bite of the roaring fire or the jolt of freezing snow underneath his fingers. Once, after waking terrified from a nightmare he'd gone down the kitchen to make himself tea. He hadn't wanted to disturb the house elves, or have them report back to Tom that he was still having difficulties sleeping. Only when he'd smelt the putrid stench of burning flesh did he realize his hand had fallen too close to the stove fire. It was another scar left on his war weathered body.
It wasn’t just affecting him, it was affecting his time with Salazar. The boy noticed his difficulty with magic and insisted on canceling their sessions. If not for that, Harry might have been able to power through.
He knocked on the door but with one press of his knuckles, the door slid open soundlessly. It was dimly lit inside, but Harry could hardly tell. Black edged his vision, and sometimes the images would swim in and out. He stumbled inside, bypassing the sitting room. With such impaired faculties, he let his feet lead him. He collided heavily with the old, wooden door of Tom's bedroom but he welcomed the jarring impact to his body. He hadn’t felt anything in such a long time.
It fell open under his weight. He would have fallen on his face if not for an invisible force that softly cushioned his body and floated him to the gargantuan four poster bed, complete with a canopy. His clenching fists found purchase into the black and gold comforter on the bed.
Tom was sitting up in bed, a book in hand. He didn't even look up from his reading as he flipped back a corner of the covering in an invitation. Harry flopped onto the cool sheets, the effort needed to pull himself up too great. He felt weighed down but at the same time felt he was soaring too far in high altitudes. Something was compressing his lungs even as he gasped for sweet air. Harry reach blindly for Tom's hand, anything, a touch just to feel his anguish dissipate.
Tom casually brushed his hand away. He put down his book and vanished the few lights in the room. Shrouded in darkness, with only a sliver of the moon illuminated a corner of the cavernous room, Harry closed his eyes and felt Tom gather his abused body closer to his. Tom's solid one pressed down on his and arms wrapped loosely around him. But it was enough.
Harry opened his mouth and breathed in the man's musk. Burning cedar wood, leather…and black licorice. His erratic pulse calmed and Harry slowly relaxed. Finally.
He didn't let himself think of how tragic it was he was seeking comfort from the man that caused so many of his wounds. How alone he was.
He later woke up with his head cushioned on Tom's chest, the larger man sleeping on his back. Harry blinked away his sleep and took inventory of his body. It was wrapped like a limpet around Tom's. He stiffened, only to hear Tom's low chuckling.
“Next time, I expect something in return.”
Hands he'd thought previously lax in sleep moved over his body. Harry made to pull away but Tom would not be deterred; he rolled over until he had Harry underneath him. He shoved his face into the juncture of his neck, inhaling deep. Humming deep in throat, Tom slithered his hands underneath Harry's sleep clothes to his bare flesh.
“Unng-“ Harry protested. Tom hushed him with a bit to his ear lobe. Sharp canine teeth pressed harder until Harry quietened. Only then did Tom let go and moved his lips across Harry's face. Tom rested his lips over the burning crest of the younger wizards cheek.
Harry turned his head away as much as his current position would allow. “Tom, stop.”
The dark wizard smirked against his downy skin. “Next time then.” Tom lifted himself up and left Harry on the bed. The younger wizard let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding when Tom pulled back. He'd half expect Tom to overlook his protests and take him anyway.
Things continued in the same vein for months. Harry would resist as long as he could until the symptoms persisted and over came him. He'd go stumbling into Tom's room, let the man take the pain away, never asking how he did it. And he'd wake with his body pressed close to Tom's. The older wizard took greater liberties with each visit. Sometimes he’d sneak his hands under Harry's clothes, caressing the skin there or fondling the dips and curves he found. But it was only his hands that wandered to Harry stomach to his back to his buttocks. But never did the man kiss him. He tried, oh did he try but Harry always said no and pushed the man away. Tom didn't pressed after the first no and always got up from the bed with a dark chuckle.
Every morning Harry said no, he noticed the time between when he'd waken up and notice all the inappropriate places Tom snuck his hands to to when Harry finally whispered a no grew longer. It became harder to remember to resist. And Harry hated himself for it. How desperate he'd become to loose all his self respect to grow to crave Tom's touch. Was it a Pavlovian effect, associating the cessation of pain to Tom's touch? How else was he to explain the craving he had for his rapists attentions, amorous as they maybe. Sure he stopped taking the potions but at what cost? Common sensibility said Tom even more dangerous than a sleeping potion.
So one vice was substituted for another.
He started drinking to be able to look himself in the mirror in the mornings. It lowered his inhibitions and he no longer asked himself why he was letting Tom touch him. And whenever that little niggling voice of his pride was particularly persistent, he'd knock back another glass and another until he was floating on a haze of drunkenness. .
The only downsides to it was that he was forgetting to say no anymore. And sometimes, he'd even push back into Tom's wandering fingers. He forgot about the man touching him and only felt the sensations he could inspire.
Tonight was a particularly bad night. The withdrawal symptoms of the potions were hitting him particularly hard. They seemed to grow in intensity the more nights he spent with Tom. An empty bottle rolled from his lax fingers as he wobbled his way down the hall. Miraculously he made it to Tom's room without further incident.
This time, though, Tom stood by his window with a drink in hand. He usually stayed up in bed for Harry. Pouting, Harry made the extra effort to make his way to Tom and tugged at him with insistent hands to the bed. But his drunken effort were no match for Tom’s sober determination.
“I'm not in the mood to entertain a drunk,” Tom drawled sardonically.
Harry whimpered at the rejection. His legs felt like jelly so he wrapped both arms around Tom. “Tom, no please, I need…”
Tom slapped away his hand and shoved him back in the bed. Harry fell with a small shriek. Tom climbed up over him and framed his head with his hands as he loomed over Harry's prone body.
“You have never asked how I take away your symptoms. I would have thought that you of all wizards would be curious about it,”
Harry shook his head and closed his eyes. The firewhiskey he'd had was making everything move too much and at the same time everything was uncomfortably still. He tried to get up but that proved too much for him.
“I take what you feel into my body. That is why you are feeling them harder, faster, more often. I admit it was a good way to make you dependent on me, but now you have started up another vice. How plebeian of you, running from all your problems to the bottle of a bottle. Are you not the golden Gryffindor savior? The boy who lived?”
Feebly shaking his head, Harry opened his eyes to see glittering ruby eyes boring holes into him. “Survived,” he croaked. “Not lived….survived….”
Tom snorted. “Survived. Yes, that is more accurate. What do you have to live for?”
Harry frowned, not understanding what Tom was asking of him. “I don…I don't…wha…?”
“What do you have to live for now that you do not have the purpose of killing me?” Tom reiterated, his voice dropping to a rough growl.
“I….Salazar…and…” it was such an effect to speak, let alone think. “Wha…makes you…think…not…kill you?”
Tom chuckled. “You would kill the only wizard Salazar considers as his father?”
Harry burst out crying in ugly, loud wails. Taken by surprise, Tom reared up and inspected him like an insect he'd particularly like to smash underneath the heel of his shoe. Harry reached up and grasped both sides of Tom's shirt collar and muffled his sobs into his chest. There was an excess of snot and tears and other questionable fluid that he stained onto Tom's shirt and smeared along his collar bone. With a grunt of annoyance, Tom tried to detach the leech that was a drunken Harry but failed. He was forced to wait the emotional wizard out. With a disgruntled sigh, he fell back on his side of the bed, hoping Harry would let go and cry himself to sleep but the green eyed wizard merely followed him. He almost crawled on top of his body and continued his wailing. Tom lifted a hand and hesitantly (and awkwardly) patted his heaving back. It wasn't particularly gentle nor soothing but Harry took it. Eventually his cries drifted to the occasional sniffle. Harry rubbed his wet and clogged nose repeatedly over Tom's shirt before blinking owlishly up at the annoyed man.
“I've never cried as much as I have since I came here. You’re bad for me.” Harry muttered. Despite his tear stained face and puffy eyes and reddened nose, he was nonetheless beautiful. High, sharp cheeks gaunt from a lack of proper food and dark circles underneath his bloodshot eyes only enhanced his fragility. He was lovely in his pain. Tom thumbed away a straggling teardrop.
“Yes, I’m very, very bad for you. I’d corrupt you, ruin you,” he promised wickedly.
“Ruin me…” Harry didn’t mean for the words to sound like an invitation, but Tom took them as such.
“My pleasure.” Tom suddenly pushed him on his back and straddled his hips. He blanketed the green eyed wizard with his lean body. It was done so fast, so smooth; Harry didn’t even have time to react.
Harry couldn’t breathe, not because Tom was heavy but for the first time he felt the hard contours of man on top of him and he wasn't scared. His whole body seemed to pulse under Tom's, quivering like a tuning fork. Harry remembered the old Tom, how’d he’d swarmed over his body, ravenous in his unruly desire to savor Harry's pain. But this – this felt like nothing he had ever experienced. It had all been about power those times. Power and humiliation and anger. But now the only thing Harry could see in Tom's eyes was an all consuming desire that was threatening to burn him to ashes. He could barely think beyond the next place where Tom might put his lips. He brushed them gently over the hills and dips of Harry's face, the touch butterfly soft.
“What are you doing?” Harry’s words came out on a puff of air.
“Taking my payment for all those nights,” Tom growled against his lips just before he kissed Harry. He gasped, unwittingly giving Tom the very opening he was looking for. His tongue invaded Harry's mouth like a conquering marauder, but it enticed Harry's tongue to a lover’s waltz. It was hot and slippery, Tom's tongue rough. Every inch of Harry's mouth was minutely explored, his teeth caressed. Tom breathed the air form his lungs, making Harry light headed. He feared he would pass out until Tom gave back his own breath.
Tom's hands roamed down his sides, stopping at his waist. The tips of his fingers teased the small expanse of stomach that was exposed from Harry's shirt. Harry’s hand jerked to Tom's when he felt the touch. He held the wrist immobile but he didn’t fool himself into thinking that Tom stayed still because of him. It was done because of Tom’s own will.
“Kiss me back.” Tom’s lips briefly left his to utter that command before he fit them back. Tentatively, Harry pushed into his mouth and found his tongue. Tom let him explore, letting him decide what he liked. He sipped form Tom's mouth in little sucking kisses, Harry's moans captured in his mouth. With his free hand, Harry cupped his jaw, rubbing his thumb over the stubble there. Tom's jaw moved under his fingers as he slanted his head to get a better angle. Harry became lost in the kiss, feeling all control being taken from him. But he was more than willing to give it away. He didn’t want to think about his traumatic past or his uncertain future.
Completely engrossed in the older man, it was like a splash of cold water on his face when Tom jerked away and pulled Harry to a sitting position all in the same move. He gasped in a great lungful of air. Tom scooted back to a respectable distance.
“Say yes,” he demanded quietly, but with all the authority of a shouted command.
Harry closed his eyes, utterly defeated. “Yes..” A soft whisper, barely discernible but it was all the permission Tom needed.
A flash of white, predatory teeth then Tom was on him again. Demanding lips descending to Harry's dry, chapped ones.
“Kiss me,” Tom ordered. Harry pursed his lips. It was soft and gentle, everything Tom wasn’t. He inhaled and sucked the breath from Harry's very lungs, then breathed back warm air inside him, melting his frozen insides. Tom pulled back slowly with a wet pop.
It had seemed like forever since he’d been able to make any decisions in his life. Dumbledore had decided he would sacrifice himself for the greater good. Tom had decided he was to blame for all his failures. The Weasleys and everyone expected him to save them. He'd never had the opportunity to accept or deny those responsibilities. Even if this was a huge mistake, it would be his mistake. He was making the conscious decision to fall into hell.
Harry guided Tom's head back down to his, for the first time initiating a kiss. Tom seemed to understand his need for control now, and let him do as he pleased. He sucked at Tom's tongue, sliding his against the older man's in a wet, slick kiss. So absorbed in the kiss, he almost didn’t notice when Tom changed the angle and crawled over him, pushing him down again to lie back over the pristine sheets like a virgin sacrifice.
Perhaps Tom had messed him up, or maybe it was the war, or he'd just been born twisted and dark and unloved but right here, right now-Harry was so ready to take the pleasure Tom offered, after years spent taking the dark wizards pain.

p.s. I guess this can technically be classified as noncon since Harry was drunk when giving consent which in real life typically is not seen as coherent consent. Hope this doesn't offend.
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Harry Potter and the Slytherin Heirs