Chapter Text
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, his thoughts swirling in a tempest of emotions and uncertainty. Today marked a significant turning point in his life, and yet the gravity of what was to come weighed heavily on him. He was torn between excitement and anxiety as he contemplated the different ways to mark his bond with Tom. Four options loomed in his mind, each one more daunting than the last, and one in particular made his cheeks flush with embarrassment.
The first method was the vampire bite, a tradition that demanded one bite near the heart, leaving a wound that would forever serve as a mark of their connection. The second involved cutting or biting Tom in a more visceral manner, a ritual that required Harry to lick the wound, sealing their bond with blood—an act that, while intimate, would leave a permanent scar as a reminder of their union. The third was more aesthetically pleasing: the gift of designer jewelry adorned with motifs like fangs, bat wings, and thorns, embodying their gothic romance. The final option was perhaps the most straightforward, yet daunting—sexual intimacy. Each choice sent a shiver down his spine, igniting a mixture of desire and trepidation within him.
“You’ve been lost in thought, my love,” Tom remarked, his voice cutting through Harry’s spiraling thoughts. He settled beside Harry, his expression a mixture of concern and affection. “It’s your birthday. You should be indulging in cake and celebrating with your father, not fretting over… whatever it is that’s bothering you.”
“Tom,” Harry began, his voice laced with impatience, “can I mark you in more than one way?” He couldn’t hide the urgency in his tone, his heart racing at the thought of binding their lives together in multiple forms.
“You can bite my neck if you want,” Tom offered casually, but Harry’s reaction was immediate and fervent.
“No! Absolutely not!” he exclaimed, the protectiveness in his voice evident. “That’s a mark for enemies. I need to bite the vein over your heart!”
“Interesting. Do what you must, my queen,” Tom replied, his tone inviting yet playful.
As Harry leaned closer, his hands roamed across Tom’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his fingertips. In a swift motion, he sank his teeth into Tom’s flesh, a hiss escaping his lips as the warm, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. “I didn’t think it would hurt that much,” Tom admitted, his voice strained yet filled with an underlying thrill.
“And what of the other mark?” Tom pressed, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.
“I’ll need to cut you somewhere else, and then I’ll have to lick the blood to seal the bond,” Harry explained, feeling a mix of pride and anxiety at the thought. “But that wound will never fully heal, no matter how small.”
“Do what makes you happy, my love,” Tom purred, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. Harry retrieved his wand, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat radiating between them. With a swift incantation, he carved a delicate “H” into Tom’s chest, the sight of blood eliciting a primal urge within him.
As he completed the bond, Tom leaned in and kissed the ring on Harry’s finger, a gesture filled with significance. “Happy, my queen?” he asked, his voice dripping with affection.
“Very,” Harry replied, a grin spreading across his face. “But this means you’re bound to me, is that right?”
“I don’t mind at all,” Tom cooed, a playful glint in his eyes. “But first, I want to see my father.” Harry demanded, a note of authority slipping into his voice.
“Of course,” Tom acquiesced, gesturing toward a closet where Harry could change.
Harry emerged moments later, clad in a stylish ensemble that made him feel powerful. The black turtleneck hugged his form, while a dark green jacket added a layer of sophistication. His grey cargo pants balanced the outfit with a touch of casual flair, and his black-and-green leather boots grounded him in ruggedness. A silver belt cinched his waist, the metallic sheen catching the light. The overall effect was striking, a blend of colors and textures that turned heads.
“Christ… Why did no one tell you how utterly dashing you look?” Tom groaned, letting his hands slide around Harry’s waist, a possessive gesture that made Harry’s heart race.
“You’ve got me under your spell. Just let me have you,” Tom pleaded, his desire evident in the way he gazed at Harry.
“Is the mighty Dark Lord begging? I wonder how your Death Eaters will react to that,” Harry teased, moving closer as Tom’s hands explored his body.
“Christ,” Tom groaned, sitting Harry on the bed and showering him with kisses. “Oi!” Harry protested playfully.
“Don’t fret. It’s not like you’ll let me fuck you,” Tom grumbled, but his lips curled into a smirk.
“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Harry shot back, laughter bubbling in his chest.
“It is a bad thing,” Tom deadpanned, kissing him again.
“Be grateful you’re English like me,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t be cocky, my queen,” Tom quipped back, a twinkle in his eye.
“It’s my birthday; I can do what I want,” Tom retorted, a challenge lacing his voice.
“Shall we go, my love?” he hummed, offering his hand.
“Of course,” Harry uttered, slipping his hand into Tom’s as they walked together.
“Hadriel, happy birthday, my son,” Snape chuckled when they entered the room, his demeanor warm and welcoming.
“Happy birthday, Father,” Harry replied, enveloping his father in a tight hug. The warmth of their embrace provided a moment of comfort amidst the chaos of their lives.
“I have something to ask,” Harry said, pulling Snape aside. “Lily was never my mother, was she?”
“No,” Snape answered, his voice steady.
“I thought as much,” Harry laughed lightly, but the weight of the revelation hung in the air. “And the Dursleys… they were never my family?” he probed, glancing around the room.
“Harry…” Snape’s voice was sympathetic, but Harry brushed it off.
“Just wondering, is all,” he said formally before stepping away.
His gaze fell upon Tom, who was deep in discussion with several Death Eaters. Not wanting to interrupt, he turned when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Harry Pottah,” Draco called, a broad smile lighting up his face as he engulfed Harry in a hug. “Is anyone in that room a vampire?”
“A few,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes. “Though I’ve noticed they’re not being as… touchy with Voldemort like they usually are. Bellatrix being the main one.”
“Interesting,” Draco shrugged, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Bellatrix, you’re not as attached to Voldemort as usual,” Lucius noted, curiosity lacing his tone.
“Lord Voldemort has been marked—twice—by the same person,” Bellatrix hummed. “Any smart vampire knows not to touch another vampire’s mate without permission. It’s considered hostile.”
“I feel no intimate or romantic feelings for Lord Voldemort anymore,” she shrugged, a hint of boredom in her voice.
“My Lord, you have a lover?” Lucius asked, arching an eyebrow.
“It does not matter,” Tom grumbled, irritation flaring at the interruptions. “Harry, Draco, come sit.”
Harry and Draco made their way to a chair, and Harry instinctively gravitated closer to Tom.
“We should all wish Harry and Severus a happy birthday,” Tom said, his voice steady.
“We need to discuss the war and our plans to take down the light,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of authority. Harry struggled to focus, his heart heavy as he felt Tom’s emotions intertwining with his own.
“Harry,” Draco said, breaking through his thoughts. “You okay? You’re spacing out.”
Harry forced a smile, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. “Yeah, I’m good,” he replied.
“Don’t lie,” Tom growled, his eyes narrowing as he turned to Harry.
“Why are you upset?” he demanded, rubbing Harry’s cheek softly.
“Hah…” Harry mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m… I’m not supposed to love you. This isn’t my life.”
“What are you on about?” Tom asked, concern etched on his face. He lifted Harry’s chin, compelling him to meet his gaze.
“Neville… he’s supposed to be in my place,” Harry confessed, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.
Tom sighed, already aware of the turmoil swirling within Harry. “Harry, this is your story. Neville has already been reborn. His fate is separate from yours.”
“Tom,” Harry whispered, but his eyes remained averted.
“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” Tom snarled, a command that left no room for disobedience. When Harry finally met his gaze, it was with a sense of submission that made Tom’s heart swell with protectiveness. “You will not degrade yourself in my presence. You are my queen, and you will not belittle yourself again. Do you understand?”
Harry nodded, though the suffocating intensity of Tom’s words sent a thrill through him.
As the moment stretched, the tension palpable, Harry felt a mixture of fear and exhilaration. Had Tom realized the effect he had on Harry? The heat rising in his cheeks spoke volumes, even as he struggled to come to terms with the implications of their bond.
The morning sun poured into their room, illuminating Harry’s face as he awoke to find Tom beside him. He buried his face in the covers, embarrassment washing over him once more.
“Don’t hide that beautiful face,” Tom’s deep voice rumbled, a teasing lilt to his words that sent shivers down Harry’s spine.
“Don’t start,” Harry mumbled, unwilling to meet Tom’s gaze.
“Move, and whatever happens next is your fault,” Tom warned, biting his lip as Harry felt his lover’s hands caress his body, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.
“Tom—please,” Harry panted, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through him.
“You talk too much, but I do enjoy your cute little moans,” Tom hummed, sitting up and intertwining their hands as he pinned Harry down, kissing him fervently.
“Merlin, just marry me already,” Harry gasped, caught up in the whirlwind of their connection.
“Okay,” Tom replied nonchalantly, a smirk on his lips.
But the moment was fleeting, the reality of their impending wedding looming over them. “Ugh, I want to sleep,” Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Next time you decide to fuck me senseless, I’m breaking off this engagement. Oh, can we get married later?”
“I’ll get everything ready,” Tom said, pulling the covers around Harry before slipping out of bed.
“My Lord!” a Death Eater exclaimed, throwing his arms around Tom in an unabashed display of camaraderie.
“Have you no decency? I am ENGAGED! I am your lord. You obviously have no regard for personal space,” Tom growled, the irritation palpable in his tone.
“Avada Kedavra,” he declared with chilling nonchalance, the body of the offending Death Eater collapsing to the floor.
“What is it, Lucius?” Tom asked, turning to face his loyal follower.
“I heard you need something planned?” Lucius inquired, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“Yes, I need you to plan a wedding—immediately,” Tom commanded, the weight of his authority hanging in the air.
“Beautiful, wake up,” Tom murmured, his voice a soft caress against Harry’s ear.
“Tom, g’morning, my king,” Harry yawned, blinking sleep from his eyes.
“God, you look dashing. Go get ready for our wedding,” Tom urged, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Harry shot up, the reality of the day crashing over him like a wave. “I-It’s today?”
Tom nodded, a smile lighting up his face. “You’ve already got an outfit picked out.”
As Harry prepared for the day ahead, his heart raced with a mixture of excitement and fear. Today would forever change their lives, and with it came the promise of love, danger, and the unbreakable bond that tied him to Tom in ways he had yet to fully understand.