Parselenic

PAIRING: Harry Potter / Tom Riddle

SUMMARY: «Post OotP, ignoring HBP and soon to be ignoring DH» Harry is finished with being the Light's whipping boy, the tragic boy hero that the world pinned its hopes on. He allows himself to be taken to another realm, only to emerge after ten years in the moment he left…with a whole new plan for himself. Maturity brings about understanding, and Harry understands just fine. This time, he'll chose his side in the war. The Light will never know what hit it.

WARNINGS: Dark!Harry, Vampire!Harry, Powerful!Harry, Time Travel (ish), a few super sexy vampire guys, blood drinking, sadism, allusions to past HarryOC, smutty (& meaningless) Lucius/Harry, language, violence, and smut. We're running the whole gamut of fun in this pointless done-before fic. Yes, it has been done, the plotline is cliché and overused… but I like to think that I manage to make it original.

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Paraselenic
Paraselenic / an image of the moon seen within a lunar halo

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Fifteen year old Harry Potter was finished.
Wasn't it enough to have lost his parents before he had even known them? Wasn't it enough to have been left in a household in which he's been treated as a servant? Wasn't it enough that every single year he faced near-death situations for a war he never had a choice in which to fight? He hadn't asked for this life. He hadn't done anything to deserve the praise or the trials. But he still tried his damndest to work through them and take life as it came at him.

But now... this was truly the icing on the cake. Sirius was dead. Finally an adult who had looked at him like a real person, someone important and to be cherished for more than his defeat of Voldemort. Sirius had had his flaws, of course, but he had been the first person Harry had ever had that he could look up to without getting hatred or unwarranted regard in return.

At first he had blamed himself for Sirius's death. Sometimes he still did. He could have tried harder at Occlumency or thought a little bit more before he acted. But he was a Gryffindor, and that was his way. He was brave before he was wise, but it had always worked out for the best. He knew he was not without blame in the matter.

For all he had blame, though, there was a flaw that gave him strength to foist the guilt off his shoulders. How could he have known? He was fifteen years old and hardly schooled, how in Merlin's name did they expect him to know reality from a trap? No one had thought to tell him that such things could be engineered, instead sticking him in a room with the Greasy Git and expecting him to listen to the old bat when he snarked out orders. How was he to know how much Voldemort could really do with a thoroughfare into his mind? His ignorance had cost him dearly, no matter whose fault it was. Was that their grand plan, perhaps, to leave him so alone and full of pain that he would simply slay their enemy and then die with a smile?

Dumbledore was a good man at heart, Harry knew. It wasn't intentional that he treated Harry as a weapon in his multi-decade war… he was just an old man trying to do what he thought was best. He had the best intentions of the entire world mapped out in his mind. But, good intentions or no, Harry had no qualms against taking himself out of the plans laid for him. It was his life after all, damnit, and he could choose his own path. Dumbledore could find someone else to play the savior. Harry didn't want that anymore for himself. And what did he have to lose anymore? So he would escape those plans Dumbledore and the Wizarding world had laid on his shoulders.
Starting today.

He collected the last of his belongings from the dingy bedroom that had been 'his' for the last four summers, stuffing everything into his pockets that would fit. He was thankful that his most important belongings were not kept in the trunk that he doubted he would ever see again, locked downstairs in the cupboard as it was. He supposed he could break into it and retrieve the trunk, but it would only slow him down. He wanted to be gone, and he didn't want to risk being caught before he was well away from Surrey. Harry was pleased to find that Vernon had forgotten to lock the deadbolts this morning, and he whistled jauntily as he took the stairs two at a time. He was ready - so ready - to be gone and on his way out of the life he had been forced into.

Without a word to his family, he was out the door, down the street, and away from Privet Drive forever. He wouldn't come back unless they had him bound and gagged, he promised himself that.

He made it nearly a block down Wisteria Walk before a figure stepped out of the shadows, a tall man with waist length black hair and a charming smile. The smile managed to be wholly pleasent while still retaining a sharp danger to it, the easy way he cocked his head making Harry think of a predator. Golden eyes focused on him and Harry was halted, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

"Harry Potter…" the man said in an unidentifiable accent. His smile only grew. "I've been waiting for an opportunity to speak to you."