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The Forever Game	By : uqui Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 109808 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 12
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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08/10/2012

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed and rated. Review responses are found: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/37335-review-replies-and-discussion-for-the-forever-game/

Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed and rated.

The Forever Game

Consolidation and Companion

       As some of the Wizengamot left, others rose to talk to colleagues while the Minister sent a pulse through the Dark Mark, summoning his followers to the place only they knew about. None of them knew about his beloved mate yet. They had only seen him robed and hooded, standing in the protective shadow of their Master as he and Harry had played the cloak and dagger game for the last few years and Voldemort had no intention of telling them early that they would either obey his Harry or die. No, their reward now would be to bear witness to Dumbledore’s demise and to unknowingly bear witness as the gift of immortality settled upon his mate.

       He had steeled himself against Harry’s pain, pushing the screams away from his mind because he knew it was necessary, but his beloved had been silent for a little while and carefully Voldemort reached out through their bond, silently asking Harry if he could return. His beloved had asked that he not witness him in pain, he had said nothing about after.

       Harry lay on the floor of the sealed chamber, concentrating on his breathing. His body felt like it had gone through a wringer, which while that hadn’t physically happened, it seemed like an apt metaphor for what had happened. The magic of the ritual had touched every cell in his body, invading them, changing them and then it had gone into his magical core.

       That had hurt worse than the pain in his body and how long he had lain there screaming, Harry didn’t know. When the pain stopped though, he was once again struck by how like the Cruciatus Curse it was. It just vanished. It didn’t taper off, trickling away to nothing, it was as if a switch had been thrown and it was gone. His muscles and mind remembered though and that’s why he was still lying on the floor, drawing each breath carefully as he went through the mental exercises required to tell his mind to ignore the phantom signals that his body was still sending out.

       Harry knew his beloved had heard his screams. He hadn’t been able to hold back the cries in his mind but already his heart was lighter because his beloved Dark Lord had honoured his wishes, staying away, though it must have been causing him pain. Six years ago, it would never have happened and Voldemort would have come to him like an avenging angel, glorious in his power but today Harry found himself alone and for that he was glad. It meant that the long years learning to fight, learning to defend himself and to attack were beginning to pay off and his red eyed lover was seeing him as his equal, not merely as his catamite.

       He knew it had been difficult for Voldemort, but it had been difficult for him, especially that first lesson, where he had not known much about duelling. Yet through it all the Dark Lord had been patient, suppressing what were for him natural reactions because he too wanted Harry to be more than his cock sheath. Harry had appreciated that, loving the red eyed wizard more and ironically he tried to show the older man his gratitude every time they lay together.

       As he lay he remembered that first duelling lesson, when he truly realised how much he had to learn. He’d been in fights before that. He and Neville had had a brief, aborted fight during his N.E.W.T.s but nothing had come of that as the examiners had prevented it from escalating though Harry was now sure his words had struck far more deeply than he had intended. He’d known the prophecy then, both of them and it had annoyed him how much the wizards thought nothing of entrusting everything to a boy they barely knew. He’d only laughed one line, pointing out the obvious before Neville had reacted. “The prophecy never says you will win.” Just because Neville supposedly had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, it didn’t follow that he would, yet every witch and wizard seemed brainwashed into thinking that he would and this was after they had elected that Dark Lord as their Minister. It made no sense to Harry and if attending Hogwarts would have resulted in giving him that same attitude he was very grateful to have been pulled out.

       He’d held his own against Neville, and education at home had included the traditional art of the sword and he was no slouch at that. Harry thought he had known something about fighting, yet less than a second after the call to duel had been sounded, facing the Dark Lord, Harry had found himself slammed into the wall before falling to lie on the floor, his breath gone and his body screaming in pain. The second duel he had lasted a whole second, because he’d dodged out of the way of the first charm, only to be hit by the second jinx and he’d known then exactly how far he had to go. As Harry had struggled to rise that time, he had glanced over at the Dark Lord and he knew, this was not a game and this prowess, the focus was why his beloved had won. It was humbling but it was also a challenge and it was a challenge Harry was determined not to fail.

       And he hadn’t.

       Every day they practiced and Harry measured his success sometimes in seconds, sometimes in minutes but daily his ability to fight grew. He learned more spells, he learned more movements, he learned everything he could. Early on there was a small stir, Neville Longbottom had supposedly disappeared but Voldemort was not concerned and had gone about the business of being Minister as if nothing was wrong. Harry knew the other boy was not dead and he knew that because his butt was not sore from the unbelievably passionate celebratory sex he anticipated the night that Neville was dismembered before his Dark Lord.

       Harry snorted to himself. Neville was dripping blood on to the floor and his butt wasn’t sore thanks to the charms Voldemort had cast but there had been nothing celebratory about the sex. He pushed himself up, blinking as he looked around. His vision was different. There was something odd with it as if he could see more than he had been able to and Harry examined the room as he tried to work out what had changed.

       Dumbledore was still chained to the altar but the cambion no longer looked young. It was as if his age illusions had been replaced and his skin was wrinkled, his once fiery red hair now frosted and his blue eyes were dull. As Harry watched he could see that Dumbledore still breathed but each breath was slow and shallow and the skin of his chest seemed thin, pulled tight over now fragile bones. “He won’t....” the old man coughed, his voice gravelly and weak. “He won’t stay with you.”

       Harry stood, brushing his robes off and squirming slightly as he flexed his muscles, feeling how his body moved now. “He won’t,” Harry said the same words almost idly. “He won’t leave me because I complete him,” he added when he vaguely realised his original statement might be misconstrued as agreement.

       “And now that you have,” Dumbledore said, turning his head to look at Harry, “he will finish with you.”

       Harry raised his hand, touching two fingers to the spot above one eye in a gesture that was like his beloveds. Did the old man not understand? He knew the true prophecy but was determined to corrupt or ignore it. “You know the truth Dumbledore, you’ve tried fighting against it for decades but you know he won’t leave me. There are three lines that ensure that. I’ll summarise for you in case you have forgotten. ‘Equal exchange, unknown power and neither can live while the other survives.’ Is that clear enough?”

       “It doesn’t matter what he exchanged, he cares nothing for it.”

       This time Harry did laugh. “I hold his soul, I hold his heart, he won’t leave me.” Harry felt the Dark Lord stir through their link, silently seeking permission to return. He had controlled his Death Eater’s for the moment and wished to ensure that everything with the ceremony was proceeding as required.

       “He has two other Horcruxes that I know of and he cares nothing for them save that they continue to exist. You are no different. You are a tool he will use and then discard,” the old man coughed, the wet sound rattling down his throat into his chest.

       Harry turned towards Dumbledore flicking one hand out to summon a small dagger. The last part of the ritual called for it, the part that would seal forever Dumbledore’s immortality into him. He’d been given the cambion’s semen, his life giving seed, the ritual had taken the cambion’s magical properties, painfully imbuing them into Harry’s magical core and his cells and the final seal would come when it was his hand that took the final essence of life from the old man. That ensured that the ritual could not be reversed. “You can believe what you want, I know that in a year, in ten years, in one hundred years we will still be together.”

       “There is no reason.”

       “There is every reason,” Harry began, breaking off when his beloved apparated into the room behind Dumbledore.

       “Because I care for him,” the Dark Lord’s rich voice wrapped around the room and old rumy eyes opened wide at the sound. Voldemort let one hand touch Albus, almost in a caress from one ear along the bone to his chin. “Ah, I see your surprise. I see your doubt,” the Dark Lord smiled, walking around the altar, his foot falls heavy in the silence. “But how could it not be true?” he asked, his voice light with the question.

       “Why would I discard someone who every single time I fuck them, every time I release into him, the serenity inside grows and my magic responds, developing, expanding to leave me with just that little bit more power, just a little more understanding? It’s never a big boost but since I love fucking him, cumulative it’s enough. So why would I ever give him up?”

       Harry kept the surprise from his face though his eyes reflected the question and he felt the Dark Lord reach out, brushing inside his mind. :I make you stronger as well you know,: Voldemort laughed and Harry had to fight the arousal the intimate touch brought him.

       “In the end you will consume him,” Dumbledore objected.

       “You don’t think I didn’t consider that?” Voldemort hissed. “Simple energy transference I can get with any maggot, only my true mate can give me tangible power.” The red eyed wizard moved to stand beside Harry, looking at his mate and the knife still in his hand. “Wait for a little bit,” he instructed, reaching out to guide Harry’s hand in resheathing the weapon. The Dark Lord then stepped back, looking critically at Harry’s robes. A few flicks of his wand and they were transfigured into full length concealing black robes with a heavy hood which the red eyed wizard pulled up over his beloved’s head. “My Death Eater’s deserve to see him die,” he explained, his voice only for Harry, “Can you do that?” In their years of training, Harry had killed but never in cold blood, never with an audience.

       Green eyes clouded for a moment before Harry nodded firmly. He might need help later, but his beloved would be there. From his examination of Voldemort’s memories, he knew it had to be his hand that killed Dumbledore, his that pulled the former cambion’s heart from his body to wring the last drops of blood from the chambers.

       Voldemort had unslung the chains from the ground, dragging Dumbledore from the altar. The old wizard was still chained but the links were more like a leash now. The old man made no move to cover his nakedness. He was old enough that such things didn’t bother him and he was weak enough from the ritual that he could not put up much physical resistance. He was defeated and he knew it but neither Harry nor Voldemort had expected him to be so docile. They would crush any resistance but they had expected at least a little. They had already won but after so long, with Dumbledore’s history, it was odd that the wizard did not give one last futile attempt.

~x~x~x~

You will get some smex next chapter :D I promise

I encourage everyone to read and review and rate. There’s no shame in doing all three and even if it’s something you don’t like about the fic, don’t be shy – how else am I going to improve unless you tell me? I like praise but I’m not above accepting criticism.

Until next time… wavies!
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The Forever Game