Theirs
Summary:
At seventeen, Harry Potter's feeling low, his only comfort is a diary everyone thought he destroyed. And when he meets Voldemort again, determined to die after handing over the horcruxes, everything's going to change.
Work Text:
We are all slaves
Children of the darkness
Condemned to the world of fables
All slaves united by the darkness
Condemned to live fables
When the moon slides
Above us
Over the city
it sets free in its shine
Light that
Will captivate us
And hear your heart beating
Above the sound of music
A unique emotion
It's this magical night in front of us
Children of Darkness (Figli delle tenebre) by Hotel Saint George
All alone in a compartment in the very back of the Hogwarts Express there is a teenager. His face looks weary and drawn from a lack of sleep, and unshed tears linger in his eyes. A long scar crosses through the right one, a reminder of the beginning of his awful summer. Up until his birthday, he'd been forced to stay with his relatives.
Unfortunately, the thought that he'd soon be able to use magic angered his uncle further than ever before. From the day he arrived to his birthday, the beatings grew worse, eventually ending on the eve of his birthday in something unforgivable. The memory of that night was pushed as far from his mind, locked away behind a vault made of steel so strong that no magic or muggle machine could break into it. It was an unexpected ability gained from Occlumency, which he'd been practicing ever since he turned sixteen.
With a yawn, he leans back and looks out of the window. His hands are curled in his black and green hoodie as he listens to the other students being just what they are, students. They're loud and annoying to his highly sensitive ears, and he wishes that he could just block them all out. If he had it his way, he wouldn't go back.
And he's determined to get his way.
The door to his compartment's thrown open and a silently said spell has his eyes slipping closed as he drifts into unconsciousness.
Voldemort sneers down at the boy sprawled out in front of him and his Inner Circle. His face lies on his right hand, the one curled into a fist. His hoodie, that's obviously long enough to reach his knees and his black skinny jeans accent just how small the teen is.
"Enervate."
Slowly, his luminesant pools open. He rubs at them gently before looking up at the Dark Lord. "Are you going to kill me?" His eyes are filled with childish wanting and innocence, as if he were asking for a new toy instead of death.
"I was planning on it. Why?"
"Because, I've been waiting for you to do it for a long time. All I ask is that it's quick in exchange for me saving your horcruxes..."
"My horcruxes?" Voldemort's eyes open wide as Harry unshrinks a black, grey and green skull patterned messenger bag. He smiles meekly, pulling from it a gaudy ring with a peculiar scratched stone, a jeweled diadem, a locket with an 'S' etched into it and a battered black diary. The last he clutches to his chest before setting it on the ground and giving it a lingering touch of tenderness.
