Work Text:
There’s a knock at Harry’s door. Probably one of his friends checking up on him, again.
“Oh, h’lo,” he says, sobering up slightly at the sight of his soon-to-be husband.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“S’what you do at a bachelor party, I’m told. Celebrate your last night of freedom.”
Voldemort’s mouth settles into a firm, harsh line. “Our union will grant you more freedom than you have ever known.”
Unlikely. Sighing, he asks, “What d’you want, Voldemort?”
The other man hesitates briefly. “There is one thing I have left undone.”
“It can’t wait 'til tomorrow?”
“It cannot.”
Hands, long-fingered and clawed, cup his jaw with a gentleness he barely believes. Before he can gather himself to react or ask anything, the serpentine man closes the distance between them and presses his thin lips to Harry’s. A strangled yelp gets caught in his throat, swallowed down in surprise at the sound of Voldemort’s contented hum. He lets his eyes slide closed and tentatively returns the kiss, feeling Voldemort’s hands tighten reflexively as he does. After another few moments, they part.
“What was that about?” Harry breathes.
“It would be a shame to share our first kiss in front of everyone.”
“It– we– it’s a peace treaty marriage.”
Voldemort strokes his thumb across Harry’s cheek, pausing at the corner of his lips. “A peace treaty does not necessitate a marriage, Harry. Binding you more completely to Lord Voldemort does.”
Harry is shocked into silence, and Voldemort turns and walks down the front steps.
“Until tomorrow.”