"Oh my love," Voldemort sighed. "Aren't you tired of this endless running? You don't look well. All this writhing in the dust like a hunted animal doesn't suit you."
Harry struggled against the binds keeping him in place, his breaths coming out in...
Voldemort awoke the day after the Wizengamot meeting feeling as though all was finally right with the world. He could feel his precious lover stirring in his arms, and Voldemort tightened his grip ever so slightly and tugged him closer, nuzzling his face into Harry's neck, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there. Harry groaned, turning his face to meet Voldemort's, and Voldemort was greeted by the beautiful emerald orbs. "Good morning," Harry said, his voice deep and husky from sleep.
Voldemort smirked. "Indeed it is."
Harry just rolled his eyes playfully and leaned in for a good morning kiss. Voldemort met Harry's lips with a greedy noise, and he allowed himself a moment to bask in the pure, domestic bliss. When their kiss delved closer to a more intense heat, Harry pulled back, ignoring Voldemort's complaints. "We have things to do today," Harry said regretfully. "Come on, we need to get up."
"We can stay for a little longer," Voldemort argued, his face pulling down into a pout. "Come my love, don't you want to celebrate our engagement?" Voldemort asked suggestively.
Harry snorted. "I think we celebrated quite a bit last night," he laughed, and then, to prove his point, Harry shifted, allowing the comforter to fall down to his waist, revealing the numerous love bites decorating his chest and neck. "I'll be lucky if I can walk today!"
"I can help with that if you want," Voldemort grinned, and Harry just rolled his eyes playfully and moved to the edge of the bed, wincing as he stood. "You alright, love?" Voldemort asked.
Harry's answering grin was full of teeth. "Never better," he said, and Merlin, he was so in love with this man— "Now, c'mon! Up! We have work to do!"
Voldemort groaned and turned so that he could bury his face into Harry's still-warm pillow, breathing in his comforting scent. "You are too cruel, my love," he said. Harry just laughed and threw a spare pillow at his back. Voldemort sat up, a smile on his face, just in time to catch Harry darting out of the door.
Voldemort sighed and leaned back against the headboard, a warm feeling residing in his stomach. This was the life Voldemort never knew he needed. If someone told his younger, teenage self, that the only thing that would make him feel true happiness would be some dark-haired, green-eyed angel, he would've cursed them into oblivion, but now... Voldemort had seen what life was like without Harry, and he never wanted to feel it again.
He was so ready to marry Harry, put a ring on his finger, and show the entire world exactly who Harry Potter belonged to. Voldemort knew that this wedding needed to be absolutely perfect, which led him to what he was going to have to do today.
Voldemort's face drew downwards into a small frown, and even his earlier bliss wasn't enough to stop the hesitance he felt now. He wanted to make this wedding absolutely perfect; it had to be complete perfection. Harry deserved to have a beautiful wedding that would make him smile that wonderful, bright smile that seemed to light up every dark shadow around him.
However, in order to do that, Voldemort needed... some advice. (Not help, because Lord Voldemort sought help from no one.) While Voldemort readily admitted that he knew Harry incredibly well, there were still some things that only one or two people would know, and those things would help him plan the wedding.
Voldemort let out another sigh before he pushed himself out of bed, smiling faintly at the pleasant soreness in his body. He quickly slipped on some clean robes and exited the chamber, sending one last look towards the bed that still carried the mixture of his and Harry's scent.
He needed to talk to someone.
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