Chain of Drabbles

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Title: Chain of memories? No! Chain of Drabbles!

Pairing for the chapter:Harry Potter/Lord voldemort

Warnings: none

Prompt: First Kiss

Harry stared at the frightening crimson eyes of his enemy, both of them breathing hard due to the last couple of minutes. It was hard to imagine that they were there, locked inside the lowest past of the dungeons with no way out. As soon as Voldemort had noticed the active magic suppressors he had snapped. He had destroyed the room they were in, then proceeded to attack Harry, not only physically, but mentally as well.

And now there they were, both bloody and bruised - Harry made sure he gave as much as he got - with Voldemort pressing him against the wall, pinning Harry's arms above his head, their faces inches apart, and with Voldemort hissing and growling at him. The man had lost every shred of control he ever possessed and, due to the Ministry, Harry was the only one to suffer his ire; Harry was man enough to admit it, he was terrified.

He had no idea what was going through Voldemort's mind, Harry had no idea what he might do to him, the only thing he was aware of was that he had to keep very still.

His breath hitched, in fear, as Voldemort got even closer to him, their noses almost touching, but not quite, Harry watched as a forked tongue came out of his mouth, and suddenly he realised that Voldemort could, clearly, smell his fear.

Harry dared close his eyes as that tongue traced his stubble-covered chin, dared to swallow as it traced his Adam's apple, he was... he was...

"Are you enjoying this, Mr. Potter?" Voldemort hissed, and Harry's eyes went from tightly shut to wide open, watching those crazed crimson eyes display Voldemort amusement.

Harry opened his mouth to reply when he felt cold, thin lips cover his own, he could do nothing but comply with the forceful kiss when Voldemort hissed against, into his mouth, "You better be, because I certainly intend to enjoy it."

And Harry, after a moment's hesitation, opted for his own self-preservation and carefully moved his tongue against Voldemort's, closing his eyes of his own volition when he felt those hands tighten around his writs, he couldn't help but find slightly erotic the feel of those thin lips against his own, that tongue moving expertly inside his mouth, teasing him, drawing him out.

He couldn't help it, he moaned.

And Voldemort stopped, stepping away from the boy and eyeing him from top to bottom, the dishevelled appearance, the dry blood on his hands, the torn clothes. For once, he couldn't help himself and gave the boy a chaste kiss.

Voldemort turned his back to the defeated boy, knocking on the wooden door and ordering, "Lucius, Severus, Walden, open the door, we're done here."

Harry watched, disbelieving, as the door opened and a Death Eater bowed low for their master, saying simply, "Yes, my lord."