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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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23/10/2012

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.

This begins into truly new territory, where Harry is acknowledged as the equal of the Dark Lord and they are conquering the world. But how they go about that is for you to read and find out. First though, there’s still a few lingering issues to deal with, so enjoy.

The Forever Game

Companion

       Voldemort gulped, savouring the flavour but holding Harry’s hips as his mate came. Sometimes Harry bucked a little too hard, and his cock slipped out of the warm moist cavern of his mouth and on today that wasn’t allowed. He wanted to taste everything. When Harry stilled the Dark Lord pushed himself upwards and was then pulled into a tight embrace. Harry kissed him, deepening the contact almost immediately so that he could taste his own essence in the red eyed wizard’s mouth.

       Through the kiss, the dark wizard chuckled when he felt his mate’s hands reach out and stroke his already half aroused member into full erection. Harry always seemed to know exactly what would give them both the most pleasure and even after decades of intimacy Voldemort had no idea how he did that. Harry remained endlessly fascinating for him, though his body was now like a comfortable well played instrument, it was one he could not look passed. His mate was the only one who could give him a sense of completion so right that it took his breath away and Voldemort wondered how he could ever have doubted that Harry was his only mate.

       He had though. Many years ago now, he had had fears and doubts and questions that had driven him from their bed seeking answers. Harry flipped him on to his back and straddled his hips. Voldemort’s cock was uplifted, and Harry smiled, that happy little joyous one that made everything right with the world before he lifted himself up and sank down, engulfing the Dark Lord’s velvet pole into his hot body.

       As always the fit was tight, hot and perfect. Harry was moulded to him, his muscles already working and Voldemort laughed in sheer happiness and at himself as he remembered his doubt.

       It was night and he had been standing in a cemetery, trying to raise a particularly elusive spirit. The spirit weren’t interested in being raised and for the past few days, instead of helping Harry adjust to being a cambion, he had been grave hopping, hoping to trap the spirit somewhere and finally get some answers.

       And all this had come about when they had discovered that Neville Longbottom, the fake prophecy child was not the son of the recently deceased Frank Longbottom but had instead been fathered by some unknown incubus on Alice Longbottom and was therefore a very young, fledgling cambion. Which meant that Dumbledore’s fake prophecy might very well be true and that he, the Dark Lord Voldemort had.... chosen the wrong mate.

       If Neville Longbottom was a cambion, like Voldemort was, it stood to reason that supposed Prophecy Child was the one who was meant to complete him and that Harry was the one that Dumbledore would have trained up to ‘vanquish’ him, probably when that old cambion had killed the Potter Heir and taken his place. Voldemort would have gone to that battle expecting a mere wizard, he would have gotten Dumbledore’s centuries of experience and if Albus had moved fast enough, that would have been his defeat. That fake prophecy would then have been true.

       Which was why he was here.... It felt good and right with Harry but he had to know if his mate really was the black haired wizard.

       -Is this some wizarding ritual I don’t understand?-

       Voldemort recognised the hissing voice of a serpent and he turned towards it to stare directly at a great basilisk, one he hadn’t seen for at least 20 years. -Ritual?-

       -A ritual whereby you leave your mate scared and confused as he undergoes a change in his very species while you are doing.... Well, I’m not even sure what you are doing.- The great serpent had encircled the entire cemetery and his head was now resting on the ground near the dark wizard.

       -What?- Voldemort managed to choke as he heard the words.

       -I like your mate,- the basilisk ignored his question. -He’s sensible, he asks questions and he already knows the truth you seek.-

       -Go back!- the Dark Lord hissed. -My mate?- he questioned.

       The basilisk laughed but it was not amused. -Do you really think that just because the other boy is immortal he was meant to be your mate? Do you think the bonds are so weak that you would make a mistake?- Under the inner eyelid, the great serpent’s eyes burned red and Voldemort suddenly felt massive amounts of anger directed towards him.

       -What do you mean?-

       -I’m not sure I should tell you, but since your mate sent me to find you....-

       -What? Harry knows you?-

       -Better than you, it would seem.-

       -Why didn’t he tell me?-

       -You never asked.-

       Voldemort dismissed that line of reasoning. He would get nowhere arguing with the great serpent. He’d never asked, because he’d never known and for some reason neither of them thought it important enough to mention it to him. It didn’t matter. -What is this truth?-

       -It’s quite simple really but why should I relay words your mate will repeat when you ask?- the basilisk hissed before it gave an odd lurch and vanished. The Dark Lord recognised the activation of a port key and realising that he really had no choice he apparated back to his stronghold.

       The sight that greeted him was one forever etched in his memory. Harry looked magnificent simply standing in the middle of his throne room, his robes draped around him perfectly. The other prophecy wizard was strapped to a saltire cross, though his body was hanging mostly from the wrist restraints. Harry looked over as he appeared but made no move towards Voldemort and the Dark Lord realised, that while he had tried to deny his doubt, his mate had felt the feeling. It would be up to him to come to Harry now.

       He took the steps necessary to close the distance and Harry made no move to stop him when Voldemort reached out to cup his face. But there was also no smile of welcome or soft acknowledgement of love. “Tell me?” the Dark Lord whispered as his hand fell back to his side.

       Green eyes looked at him and he could see the pain reflected though their depths. “Did you ever wonder why Dumbledore was so insistent on following a prophecy he knew was fake?” Harry asked the question softly, turning away slightly so that his eyes did not reflect their accusation.

       Now that, Voldemort realised, was a very good question. One he should have asked. One he should know the answer to.

       “I wondered,” Harry continued. “When I reached out to kill him I wondered why he was so docile, why didn’t he try to fight? But I knew it wasn’t worth attempting to break his mind to find out. So I decided to ask Neville and he has quite a story to tell.”

       Voldemort sat on the edge of the dais and began stroking Nagini when she slithered close to him. After a long pause, he urged Harry to continue speaking.

       “There was another prophecy, or maybe a vision. When he was a child, the old man was told exactly how he was going to die. How would you feel, as a cambion, being told that you were going to die by the hand of some mortal as they took your immortality?” Harry didn’t pause for an answer. “And then imagine being told how to stop it, being told that if your mate truly wished to spend eternity with you, then it would be their hand that struck down your greatest enemy.

       “You know, in many ways, I had no choice but to love you,” the younger wizard seemingly changed the tract of the conversation. “You took part of my soul, and so it could be said that I either learned to live with you or spend the rest of my life feeling not quite complete and hollow. But while you might have gone for the marriage first, you courted me before consummating it. Thirty dates, thirty visits and various tokens of affection. I never did thank you for killing those who hurt my Mum.”

       The Dark Lord remembered back. “They should have gone with the initial purge,” he mused. “But power and position will grant some reprieve though in the end they were too loyal to parts of my policies, without seeing the whole.”

       “It doesn’t matter, you killed them. And I never said thank you for finding that potion, for not killing my parents, for giving me that plushie, for any number of things you did in courting. I really had no choice but to fall in love with you.”

       “So what about this one?” Voldemort gestured to Neville, who was blinking groggily.

       “Ah this one, the fledgling cambion and not yet immortal, Neville Longbottom,” Harry introduced him flamboyantly. “This one who Dumbledore inflicted himself upon all his life, guiding, nurturing, fucking because the old man believed him to be his mate, this one, who can’t stand the thought of a man touching a man and who really doesn’t want anything to do with human contact. What about this one?”

       Voldemort stared at the strung up wizard in shock. Abuse was nothing new to him but the thought that Dumbledore had inflicted himself on this wizard was unbelievable. The old man had been a manipulative, scheming bastard but he had also been one of the defenders of Light. He usually took the time to make sure those he manipulated wanted to do his bidding. Yet Harry was implying that this boy had been forced into intimacy with the much older wizard.

       “He was five when Dumbledore first fucked him, telling him he’d come to enjoy it because they were meant to be together,” Harry supplied the further bit of information though there was a lilt in his voice that carried amusement. It wasn’t towards the old man’s actions, it was towards the Dark Lord. If anything Harry looked sad when he glanced at strung up Neville. “Not once has he ever enjoyed it.”

       That was in stark contrast to their lovemaking. Except for the time in the chamber, where Harry relived what he did to Dumbledore, the Dark Lord could not remember a time that he had not laughed, that Harry had not smiled, that they had not whispered endearments into the others ear when exhaustion finally took them.

       “Are you beginning to understand?”

       The question caught him by surprise. Understand what?

       -I told you, you would have to explain,- the great basilisk’s voice echoed through the hall.

       -Maybe,- Harry replied, turning his green eyes back to Voldemort.

       The Dark Lord was frowning, his brow crinkled in thought and his hands just resting on his familiar serpent who was resting in his lap. Harry could see he was grasping towards the edges of the idea but he wasn’t there yet. It really was quite simple. Dumbledore had fucked up. Not that Harry was complaining. The thought of sleeping with the old man made his skin crawl and the thought of wanting to do it willingly actually made him sick. He’d have never been accepted as an equal in that relationship.

       “So he lost because Neville didn’t want to spend eternity with him,” Voldemort said slowly.

       Harry stared at his mate incredulously and then turned his huge eyes towards the basilisk who stared back at him with equal surprise. And then they both burst out laughing.

       “I was never his mate!” Neville shouted.

       Voldemort froze as the words penetrated his mind and he stared at Harry, who now had one hand resting gently on the basilisk’s muzzle as he recovered. Amused tears lit his sparkling eyes, his red lips quirked in laughter and his tanned skin was perfect. He was beautiful, the Dark Lord realised, a man many would want and that he had. And he was meant to be Dumbledore’s mate?

       “Never!” the word was hissed before he realised he’d spoken. “I would never have given you up to that old man.”

       Harry smiled at him but made no move forward.

       “You are my mate, mine! And that will not change,” the Dark Lord continued as all the pieces fell into place. In different circumstances Harry would have been Dumbledore’s mate, and would have ripped out his heart to take his immortality but Dumbledore had made the mistake. He had assumed that his mate was the one with the chance to be immortal and he had focused his not inconsiderable attention on the lad, leaving the Dark Lord free to court his mate. He retained enough sense to gently slide Nagini off his lap before he rose and took the strides necessary to engulf Harry in his arms.

       “So Dumbledore knew that the man who took his immortality should have been the one he cherished?” Voldemort spoke into Harry’s thick mane of hair.

       “Yes.”

       “And he knew that you had chosen me?”

       “Yes.”

       “And he knew that he had made his greatest mistake?”

       “Yes.”

       “I should have thanked him before you killed him.”

       Harry snickered and snaked his arms around the Dark Lord, returning the embrace. With that gesture, in his heart, Voldemort knew everything was back as it should be and his doubt vanished as if it never had been. “So what about Neville?” The other wizard’s eyes were watching them.

       “I have a few ideas,” Harry replied and the Dark Lord could not bring himself to deny his mate.

       Oh and he had, just as the green eyed wizard did now and Voldemort gasped as Harry did an odd little twist of his hips. His cock was still buried in his mate’s deliciously tight hole but that twist rubbed it completely and made him melt.

       “Do that again!” he urged and his reply was Harry’s laughter, even as he twisted again, wringing a cry of ecstasy from the Dark Lord’s lips. How could he have ever doubted that the man riding him was not his mate? Voldemort didn’t know and as Harry began riding up and down again he reached his hands out to his mates pommel, and stroked, teasing and caressing Harry’s solid shaft in time with rocking up and down motions. It wasn’t long before they both came, crying out the other’s name before Harry collapsed beside his beloved.

       “Happy 100th Birthday, Harry.”

~x~x~x~

A bit of a time jump I admit but this was the best point to show what I want. Enjoy! Next time is more on the empire they have built and a bit more of the history that allowed it to come to be.

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.

Also, people are more than welcome to post in the review reply thread! Sometimes it gets a bit lonely talking to myself, so feel free to drop over and gossip~

Until next time… wavies!
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The Forever Game