The Erlking

Here is the next chapter. I’ve finished my exams, so I’m trying my hand at pre-writing all of The Erlking, so it’s finished and I can work on Indelible and Black Complication. Then I’ll see about doing Soul Seeker and The Lambs, probably together. Depending on the poll, I might just do them together.

Indelible is planned up to chapter 14 at present.

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FYI: Severus spends the weekends at Malfoy Manor.

Words: 3,322
Chapter 13
Come What May
September 5th 1996.

The train to Hogwarts had left four days ago, and with it had gone Draco Malfoy. Harry, as of four days ago, was deprived of company his own age. Fenrir’s pack was made up of adults now, as most of the children from their last meeting had grown, and there had been no more born since the Ministry had begun sterilising werewolves after Voldemort’s defeat. The elder Malfoys were polite to Harry when they had to be, but mostly they ignored him. Sirius and Remus were rather involved with one another and Harry felt guilty whenever he intruded on their ‘private time’. He had taken to leaving them alone.

Mostly, Harry spent his days in the company of Severus Snape.

It wasn’t that he was ignoring Voldemort. But, rather, Voldemort had been ignoring him. Harry wasn’t offended, he was rather used to ‘normal’ people avoiding him by now, and he could forgive Voldemort for the slight regardless because the elder Wizard was so tied up in the second war. While it had previously been about recruiting followers to fight, it was escalating at a rapid pace. Now it seemed, Dumbledore had grown tired of waiting for Voldemort to make the first move. It made Harry feel guilty – another emotion he had not felt much of in his short life – because he knew, he knew for sure no matter how the others tried to deny it, that Dumbledore was fighting so hard in the hopes of getting Harry back.

Often, Harry had woken to find Voldemort gone from the room. The elder Wizard was too tired, now, to even fight with Harry over sleeping in the bed. So Harry was allowed to sleep where he liked. Previously, Harry had woken before Tom, but not recently. Most days, Harry was sure Voldemort never went to bed at all.

Since the end of August, Dumbledore and the Order had been raiding as many manors as they could find. The moment a ward was breeched, the family in question were alerted and they fled. But that didn’t stop the Order and the Aurors destroying the building, portraits, and attacking any servants they could find. By the time the Hogwarts Express was boarding, there were quiet a few families living in Malfoy Manor, but those adults avoided Harry too.

Harry had woken an hour ago. Tom was not in the bed this time either. A quick ‘Tempus’ showed the hour at 6 am. Harry sighed and ran a hand over his face.

His relationship with Tom wasn’t really a relationship at present, but he assumed that Audenarde had meant for it to be. He couldn’t fault Voldemort entirely; while the man was pushy and rude sometimes, it hadn’t been like Harry was making an effort either. With a sad smile, Harry promised himself, that if Tom came to bed that night, Harry would lie down beside him.

“Hello Severus,” Harry greeted softly. The other man was sitting in front of the lit fireplace in the library. He had a book laid open on his lap. “What are you reading?”

Severus showed him the front cover and Harry hummed. “I’m trying to see if there is a reason the Erlking was so willing you give you up.” Severus had amazed himself by being more than polite to Harry each time they spoke. He had been outright nice even. Severus could always admit to himself that he had never been a nice person; his upbringing didn’t allow for it. But since meeting Lily during his childhood, he had strived to be the best that he could be, for her. And, when in the presence of her son, the son of his nemesis James Potter, he did not see a shred of the father. Harry was all Lily’s. He had been since the moment he had gone missing, and Severus had feared failing to protect the boy more than he had ever feared for his life.

Harry had taken it all in stride, even after Sirius had warned him that Severus was likely to be overly hostile. Sirius seemed to be the only person who had been shocked to find Severus carding his fingers through Harry’s hair, minutes after Dumbledore had almost kidnapped the boy. Everyone else had expected something of the sort for some time.

“I know why.” Harry said, taking a seat beside the Potions Master.

“Do elaborate,” the man drawled with a raised eyebrow.

Harry merely shook his head. “It really wouldn’t do me any favours to spill the secrets of others.” He frowned. “Where is everyone?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus answered. “Parkinson’s home was raided around 4 this morning. They’ve been gone around two hours now.” He didn’t try and offer comfort, or attempt to assure Harry that everyone would be ‘fine’, because it would be pointless and they both knew it.

Pointless, meaningless words had no place in Severus Snape’s vocabulary, and Harry had always preferred it when people told him the truth. “They’ll be back soon, then?” Severus nodded. In light of the fact that Harry wasn’t willing to share information with him, he went back to reading his book.

Harry stayed with him, for around another hour, until a house elf appeared, summoning Harry to the throne room. Severus, as the resident Potions Master and Healer did not normally attend raids, or raid related meetings. Harry left Severus in the library, and following the house elf, made his way to the room. When the doors flew open, banging off the walls and presenting Harry to the view of those present in the room, he was no longer human. Instead he was Faun, dressed in a cloak of Dragon skin with rust coloured hair, like dried blood, running from his head and dripping down his back. He smirked, flashing his eyeteeth fangs, and raised his hood, hiding the two curved horns from view. He wore nothing beneath the cloak, but Dragon hide boots to his knees.

“Let’s get this show on a roll.” He said as he sauntered through the crowd, stopping to the left of Voldemort.

“I thought we bought you clothing?” He hissed jealously.

Harry smirked. “Clothes are restrictive, skin is not. I am more comfortable in my skin than most, apparently.” Many of the Death Eaters blushed as he met their gazes; possibly from fear that the Dark Lords jealousy would be the death of them.

“We are attacking Hogsmeade.” Voldemort drawled, allowing a hint of Parseltongue to creep into his accent and draw out the ‘c’ and ‘s’ letters.

“Is it not a Hogsmeade weekend, my Lord?” Lucius interrupted from the right of the throne. Some of the followers looked worried about attacking their own children.

“We are not going to kill, or injure.” Harry said, inferring what Voldemort meant. “You merely want them to fear that fact that you are able to attack so close to their precious school, and to Dumbledore.”

“Clever boy,” he praised, a hand reaching out to touch the pale white cheek. “Go, now.” They apparated away, and landed at the outskirts of Hogsmeade Station. Ten minutes were spent breaking the wards so that they could apparate directly into the centre of the town, causing more of a commotion. During those ten minutes, Voldemort continued to rub Harry’s check, still seated in his throne. “You are coming.”

“That is why I look like this.” His voice was flat.

The Dark Lord laughed softly, “and you’ll make an impression.” Harry smirked in reply. “Shall we join them?”

Harry tilted his head to one side, as if considering the question. In fact he was trying to determine the look Voldemort was giving him. It seemed part longing, and part afraid. But it wasn’t fear of him, rather fear for him, that he could be harmed. Harry smiled back faintly, seeing lust flare in the other man’s red eyes. He leant forward, pressing a light kiss to Voldemort’s lips. Voldemort’s hand landed on Harry’s shoulders, trying to draw the half-naked boy closer. The tighter the grip became, the less solid Harry became, until at last Voldemort was left panting and clutching at mist. Harry stood behind the mist, tantalizingly out of reach.

“Yes, let’s join them.” They apparated away, just as the wards fell. With a nod to the Death Eaters, Voldemort was the first to apparate into the town. Faun would go last.

XXX

Harry hadn’t particularly wanted to hurt children. The Erlking only stole the souls of dying children or those who did not sleep at night, otherwise the Huntsmen left the young alone. Harry winced every time a spell was shot at a child. Instead, he had taken to scaring the adults who had attempted to fight off the Death Eaters. He had caught sight of Draco in time to push the blond out of the way of a cutting hex. Voldemort had heard Harry’s cry of pain, and had apparated Harry back to Malfoy Manor. The Death Eaters continued to attack under Lucius’ command until he, too, apparated away. The others, obediently, followed him.

Voldemort brought Harry to their bedroom. It was only 10 in the morning, just over four hours since Harry had woken up, and he was back in bed already. He chuckled faintly. He healed fast so he didn’t see what Voldemort was all worked up about. The hex wouldn’t have even hurt that much except that it caught him as he was moving, causing the cut to be deeper and longer than it would have been otherwise, (say if he had been Draco, and taken from behind).

There was a faint pink line running horizontally across his chest and to his right arm. He had landed on his arm, and the jarring motion had been what had made him cry out. Voldemort stroked the scar, watching fascinated as it faded away until the skin was a smooth unblemished white. He waved his hand and Harry’s boots and clock disappeared. With a smile, Harry was no longer Faun, and he smirked as Voldemort entangled a hand in his short black hair and pulled him into a kiss.

“Don’t leave this time.” Voldemort breathed out, pulling back. “I couldn’t bare it.”

“I was going to sleep in the bed tonight anyway,” Harry promised with a soft laugh. He pushed Voldemort’s robes down off the man’s shoulders. With a clucking sound, Voldemort scowled at Harry before removing his clothing with magic. “Impatient, are we?”

“I need you.” He breathed against Harry’s neck, panting. Harry scoffed lightly. He had only been there for five weeks, but then again, considering Voldemort had wanted him from the first time they met Harry did suppose it had been a long time to wait.

“Do you want me Marvolo?” Harry asked, spreading his legs wide beneath the other man’s body. Voldemort licked his lips and growled possessively. Their lips met again, a tangle of lust and passion and wetness that was delicious and sweet. When they pulled back, Harry whimpered from the loss.

“I want you,” he frowned, “the question is do you want me?” He pulled back, watching Harry’s face intently for a truthful answer.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Harry whispered honestly, his cheeks flushing. “I want you, but I’ve never-”

Voldemort smirked at him: his mouth wide from glee and his eyes shining with possessiveness. “Good,” he simply said, and pressed his hips against Harry’s.

Voldemort’s hand shimmied down between their chests, stopping to pinch at Harry’s nipples. Each tug and twist caused the younger boy to arch from the bed, a soft cry falling from his lips as he wriggled his hips begging for attention. Voldemort pressed his hand to Harry’s hips, keeping him flat against the bed and at the elder man’s mercy. When his fingers finally reached their goal, between Harry’s legs, he summoned lubricant. Harry bit his lip to stifle a gasp as something wet and cold brushed against his entrance.

He had been touched there, numerously, but he had never been prepared before, as the Erlking had never intended to penetrate him. It had usually been a finger inside of him, rubbing his prostate while more fingers wrapped around his cock and pleasured him. Harry wriggled, the lube cold and uncomfortable inside of him. Voldemort chuckled and cast a warming spell, heating the fluid until it was not so cold anymore. Harry stopped squirming, and instead arched off the bed again as Voldemort pushed two fingers into him at once.

With a moan, he thrust against them, begging for more. It stung, of course it did, but never let it be said that the beloved boy ever complained about anything in the bedroom. He took what was given. And he loved it.

The fingers scissored, stretching the hole to accommodate a third finger, which pressed into him moments later. Harry panted, as he raised his head, lips pursed. Voldemort smiled and swept down to capture them in a sweet, slow kissed as he deliberately teased the boy’s prostate.

“I’m ready, I’m ready.” He panted, pleading with the Dark Lord. “Please, just be inside of me.”

The fingers withdrew. Another quickly cast spell had slicked up the elder Wizard’s arousal. Shaking fingers positioned himself at Harry’s entrance, before he thrust inside. Half of him winced when Harry screamed out, and the other half delighted perversely in the boy’s minor pain. Deep breaths soon pushed the pain away and calmed his breathing. Smiling softly up at the face of Lord Voldemort, Harry raised his hips in invitation, and Voldemort accepted. He set a brutal pace for someone’s first time. Skin slapped together loudly as their hips met with each thrust, sweat poured off of both bodies as arms wrapped around necks and fingers tangled into hair, pulling their faces together so their lips could bruise one another’s.

Harry shook, his back arched as pleasure raced up his spine and through all of his nerve endings. With a hoarse cry, he came, Voldemort’s name erupting from his mouth much the same way as his seed left his penis. He panted and lay back, placidly allowing the Dark Lord to fuck him a while longer. With a cry of his own, Voldemort followed Harry into orgasm, collapsing bonelessly on the smaller man.

“That was amazing,” Harry breathed and Voldemort chuckled.

“I lo- like you,” he murmured against Harry’s neck. Though he couldn’t see it, Harry raised an eyebrow at him. Harry had, of course, heard the slip, but he was kind enough to let it pass until Voldemort was comfortable enough with the feelings to actually want to share them.

Instead, Harry settled for, “I like you too.”

They didn’t sleep. Rather they lay together, Voldemort on top of Harry still, for the next three hours. They merely held onto each other, with Voldemort kissing Harry’s neck once in a while and Harry smirking at the top of Voldemort’s head.

XXX

September 19th 1996.

Harry continued to sleep in the same bed as Voldemort, though they did not copulate every night. And neither were the encounters as intimate as the first. While Harry was awake, Voldemort was hesitant to show positive emotion or even admit to himself that he did in fact love the other boy. But Harry allowed him his denial. It would have been too much hassle to argue about it, and it wasn’t like Harry was even sure if he loved Voldemort, let alone wanted Voldemort to tell him he was loved.

It was that morning, both were rudely awakened, tired from their love making the night before and rather cranky at the intruder. Beside the bed, shaking with fear, was Narcissa Malfoy.

“The Manor is under siege my Lord. Lucius and Severus are strengthening the wards, but they need your help.” She whispered, flinching as Voldemort bolted upright in the bed. His eyes narrowed.

“I’ll be there momentarily.”

“They’re in the Observatory.” She whispered, bowing and leaving the room to help her husband.

Harry was already standing and dressed by this point. With a frown, Voldemort reached out to run his fingers through Harry’s hair, but dropped his hand to his side at the last second. Harry turned to him and smiled, “can I help?”

“No. Not in this. Just keep safe, I don’t want to worry about you.” Harry scoffed. He watched Voldemort dress, meticulously making himself presentable for people who were trying to kill him. They left the room together. The first person they came across was Fenrir Greyback. Voldemort pushed Harry towards the werewolf. He growled, “Mind him,” and strode away, leaving the other two staring after him and scowling.

Harry watched as the Death Eaters appeared across the lawn, each cloaked in black and flying into battled with the pink robed Aurors and the red and gold Order members. Voldemort was in the thick of it, desperately helping his followers prevent the ‘good guys’ from entering the Manor – the only safe house they had left.

In the corner of the room, the Erlking stood shrouded in mist and fog. Ivy climbed up the hem of his robes, before stretching out to catch the wall and climb up them as well. Audenarde smiled softly, his red eyes flashing from beneath the darkness of his cowl. His horns were hidden, as well as his long black hair. The human scalps that decorated the collar of his robe were starting to malt; and with a sigh, Audenarde decided he might need to acquire some new hairpieces soon.

The Erlking seemed to float across the ground; the train of his robe brushing off the floor but his feet seemed to only touch the ever-present mist. He paused by the window, beside Harry, who was so focused on the battle that he did not notice the presence of his previous master.

Audenarde smiled, and reached out a hand to tangle in Harry’s hair. The hand went straight through the boy and the Erlking smiled in a mocking, scornful manner. At present, his fate and Harry’s were no longer intertwined. To protect their interests, the Fates were prohibiting him from reaching out to his beloved boy. Apparently, Harry was needed in the presence of Voldemort, and the Fates would allow nothing to change that.

Audenarde smiled. He knew what was to happen. He just needed time and patience, both of which he had in endless quantities especially when it came to things he greatly desired to possess. With one more longing glance at Harry, his eyes turned to stare out of the window, watching as Voldemort weaved and ducked, every curse missing him through luck and his own duelling skills. He snorted, listening to Harry’s fearful cries and gasps as Voldemort barely missed a killing curse.

Mortals were idiots, he knew. He didn’t know why he expected differently here. They should have know that destroying a body would not destroy a soul, especially since the Order members, at least, had begun the process of collecting and destroying Horcruxes. Two had been destroyed. Not counting Harry that left four to go, along with the piece of soul still residing in Voldemort’s body.

While it was true Voldemort had split his soul seven times, he did not make seven Horcruxes purposely. Harry may have been the seventh, but he was not intended, nor known about. Voldemort had planned to use an object of Gryffindor as his seventh Horcrux, using the death of all three Potters’ as the sacrifice to tear his soul into pieces again. Instead, his soul had been torn from his body, and the piece that had been cut away – instead of being destroyed like he thought it had – it had lodged itself within Harry Potter.

And when Harry had fulfilled his purpose for the Fates and for Voldemort, he would belong, as he always had, to the Erlking. As did everyone in death.

XXX

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Thanks for reading and reviewing.
The next chapter will be up soon, I hope. (If I actually get around to pre-writing every thing before I post this one – May 16th).