Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

Written for the Quidditch League – Season 5 Fanfiction Competition – Round 1

Round 1 – Not My OTP

This is the round that was won by Ned (isaacswolfsbane) in Season 4 in The Daily Prophet competition.

As part of this competition, everyone is in a team, and what would be nicer than writing a fic for one of your fellow teammates? Well, now is your chance. But this isn't your usual "write a fic for a friend" round. In this round, you will be writing a fic for a teammate, but you'll be writing their NOTP.

This pairing may be the same as your NOTP, or it may be your OTP. Who knows? For some people this will be easier than others, but whatever the NOTP, it needs to be written romantically.

Captain: Write your Keeper's NOTP.

Keeper's NOTP: Voldemort/Harry

Word Count:

Captain of the Wimbourne Wasps

The Flaw in the Plan

"The Boy-Who-Lived… come to die."

Harry had been expecting the bright green light.

He had counted on it.

That had been the plan all along.

Harry woke up. That in and on itself was surprising; however, what was more so was the fact that he was laying on a soft bed.

Harry knew that something had gone wrong when he didn't see that bright green light coming at him. He had known then, that death wouldn't be awaiting him, at least not right that instance—and that frightened him more than the idea of dieing ever had.

He had been expecting could stone floors and rough stone walls. He had been expecting taunting and blood and pain.

The fact that upon waking none of that greeted him, left him more apprehensive than he thought possible.

Harry opened his eyes, squinting at the brightness in the room. He sat up on the bed, looking around. He frowned when he noticed how he could see the crisp detail of everything around him. His hand went to his face, his frown deepening when he found no glasses perched on his nose. His hand dropped to his lap, and he continued to look around the room.

He took in the clear blue walls, with four large windows lining one of them. The floor was a rich brown, with deep blue rugs spread all over it. There was a couch facing a fireplace, accompanied by two armchairs and a short table. To his left, the wall was lined with three large bookcases that looked as if they were just barely holding up the weight of all the books. Beside them was a desk with parchment and quills neatly arranged on it. A little further down from them was a wardrobe, and immediately after that was an opening in the wall that lead to a bathroom.

Harry took everything in. Once, twice, three times. Then he closed his eyes and slumped back on the bed.

No matter how pretty it looked, Harry knew a cage when he saw one.

Harry didn't know how much time passed, but he was roused from his state by a delicious scent. He dragged himself up, his eyes going to the small table right away.

There was a warm meal sat on the table.

Harry fell back down, turning his back on it. He ignored his stomach's angry protests and closed his eyes. He didn't know why he wasn't in some dungeon being tortured, he didn't know why Voldemort hadn't killed him, but he wouldn't play their sick game.

He had gone hungry before, he could endure it now. Besides, maybe he would be lucky and die of starvation, at least then he wouldn't be subjugated to whatever Voldemort had planned for him.

Harry kept track of the passage of time by the meals that kept popping into his cage. By his count, it was on the third day that Voldemort paid him a visit.

"Eat."

Harry was startled by the sound, having grown used to the deafening silence that filled his cage.

He struggled to sit up—his plan on starving to death seemed to be going better than expected—and turned to face Voldemort. He glanced around and found no door through which Voldemort could have walked through.

"Eat."

"No."

Harry almost winced at how raw his voice sounded. How long had it been since he had drank anything?

"It is not poisoned."

Harry just shook his head, eyes never leaving the blood red ones fixed on him. When Voldemort raised his hand, he was expecting to be cursed for his impudence, but the Dark Lord merely covered his eyes briefly, sighing.

With a wave of Voldemort's wand, the steaming bowl flew towards Voldemort, who took hold of it. Voldemort walked forward and took a seat on the edge of the bed. If Harry had had the strength, he would have inched away from him. However, it was taking all of his strength to simply keep himself sitting upright.

Voldemort took the spoon that was in the bowl and took a swallow of the broth. Then, he held it out to Harry.

"Eat," Voldemort commanded once again.

When Harry didn't say anything, nor move to take the spoon, Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"You will either eat on your own, or I will make. Trust me, you will not like the second option."

"Imperius doesn't work on me." Harry knew it would have sounded more impressive if his arms hadn't been shaking.

Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow and nodded his head.

"True. However, if you do not eat, I will bring one person you know into this room and kill them. I will continue to do so until you have eaten, and I will do so every time you refuse to eat."

Harry glared murder at the Dark Lord, but he slowly reached for the spoon. He knew that Voldemort would do exactly that. He didn't know what was in the soup that Voldemort was offering him, but he would eat, he couldn't risk not to.

Under Voldemort's attentive gaze, he ate as much as he could, stopping when he started to feel the telltale sign that any more would make him sick.

Voldemort nodded, and the bowl vanish from his hand. Without another word, Voldemort left the room, walking right through the wall.

When the next meal popped up, Harry actually got out of the bed and sat on the floor near the table. He didn't want to, just because that soup hadn't been poisoned, didn't mean this one wouldn't be, but he couldn't risk not eating. He didn't know what had happened to this friends, he didn't know how the battle at Hogwarts had ended, he didn't know who had survived it, for all he knew, they could be all dead.

However, he couldn't risk it. Voldemort might be keeping them alive just to use them at the right moment against him, and he just couldn't subject his friends to that.

He would eat, if that was what was required of him.

He needed to keep his friends safe.

Soon, Harry fell into a routine.

He would wake up and sit by the windows, looking out into a vast garden with a forest at the edge of it. Then, when breakfast came, he would eat. He would spend the time until lunch reading one of the dozens of books lining the shelves and do the same after lunch and dinner before going to sleep once more.

At first, he had believed that nothing but books on the dark arts would be found on those shelves, so he was really surprised when that turned out not to be the case.

There were books on the dark arts, true, but there were many others present as well. From the darkest arts to fiction, a little bit of everything could be found. Even some muggle books, which had left him gaping at them for a while.

So, Harry willed away his days, wondering what was happening outside his cage.

He had seen no one since that day Voldemort had come to threaten him, and Harry didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse.

Harry was started awake. It took him a moment or two to identify the reason why he had woken up, then he heard the sound again, and his gaze snapped to the couch near the fireplace.

On the couch was a light blue carrycot. Crying was coming from said carrycot.

He froze for a fraction of a second, then he jumped out of bed and raced towards the couch. He stopped beside the carrycot, eyes widening when he saw the baby inside. Not even thinking about it, he picked the baby up, putting the baby against his chest and gently rocking him.

Soon, the crying became soft sniffles, and Harry almost sagged in relief.

The bright red hair on the baby's head slowly change to a soothing blue, and Harry felt tears gathering in his eyes.

"Shh, Teddy," he whispered, still rocking the child, "everything's going to be fine."

Harry wished he could make himself believe that.

When Harry woke next, he froze when feeling the warm weight on his chest, only to relax when he glimpsed the soft green hair.

Harry closed his eyes to stop himself from crying.

He had thought that his godson had been safe with his grandmother. Was Tonks' mom dead? Had the Death Eaters gotten to her, too? Wasn't it enough that they had made Teddy an orphan?

He took a shuddering breath, gathering strength to face the day.

His eyes snapped open when he heard a happy gurgling. Teddy was looking at him, giving him a gummy smile, happily gurgling away, eyes flashing from brown to green, and hair a bright blue.

Harry slowly sat up, gently holding Teddy.

"Hi," he whispered, lips twitching when Teddy made a grab for his hair. "I guess it grew longer while I've been here," he muttered, and Teddy made spit bubbles at him.

Harry smiled, hugging Teddy close to him.

"I'm your godfather," Harry said, laying a gentle kiss on the baby soft hair. "I'm sorry you're here, but I promise you, I'll keep you safe, I'll protect you."

He couldn't protect anyone else; he had failed them, but he wouldn't fail Teddy.

Time passed so much faster now that he had Teddy with him. Teddy was getting bigger by the day, and Harry didn't think it was possible but every day he loved that little boy more. Teddy made him smile and laugh, things Harry thought he could do no more.

He lived for Teddy, and the simple thought that he might lose him was the scariest he could think of. Which was why he was now pacing back and forth, worried out of his mind, as Teddy cried his little heart out.

Teddy was burning up, and Harry didn't know what to do.

"Please!" Harry begged into the empty room, tears running down his cheeks. "I don't know what to do. Help me, please!"

He almost slumped in relief when Voldemort walked into the room.

"Please," he begged again. "He's sick."

Voldemort looked at him with those cold eyes, then turned and walked away.

Harry's legs gave up on him, and he stumbled to the couch.

"Shh, Teddy, shh." He rocked Teddy, running his hand up and down the baby's back. "Please don't cry."

"Fix this."

The cold voice had him jumping from his seat, and he couldn't stop the relieved sob when he saw Voldemort in the room with a man dressed in Healer's robes.

The healer approached the couch, a soft smile on his lips.

"Hello," the man said, "main I see your son?"

Harry was so relieved he didn't even think of correcting the man. He just lay Teddy in his little cot and let the healer look him over. He stood there, eyes locked on the wand going over Teddy. He didn't even move when he felt Voldemort stand right beside him.

Just a few minutes later the healer straightened up and smiled at Harry.

"Your son is fine," he said, and Harry sagged.

Only Voldemort's quick reflexes of wrapping an arm around his waist stopped him from tumbling to the floor when his knees gave up on him.

"He is teething, which can cause fevers. However, there is nothing to worry about, it's perfectly normal. I'm going to leave you a potion you can give him. Two drops in his morning bottle when he wakes up, and another two in his evening bottle before sleep. If his fever persists, you may give him another two drops in his afternoon bottle."

The healer set a small vial on the table, before bowing to Voldemort, who dismissed the healer with a wave of his hand.

Teddy was asleep now, and Harry just leaned over to look at him, carding his fingers through the feather-soft hair.

Slowly, he felt Voldemort's arm unwrap from around him before the man pulled away completely and started to walk away.

"Thank you," he whispered just before Voldemort disappeared through the wall.

Harry was unsure if the whispered "You're welcome," he heard was more than a figment of his imagination.

In what seemed no time at all, Teddy was crawling all over the place.

The childish laughter and baby babbling brought life into Harry's cage. Sometimes, Harry couldn't help but feel thankful that Voldemort had brought Teddy to him. In those days, Harry hated himself and fell asleep wishing Teddy could experience the outside world.

"Please," he whispered on one of those days, holding Teddy close. "He's just a baby. He needs to be outside, he needs more than to be locked up in a cage. Please…"

Harry fell asleep to the sound of Teddy's soft breathing, knowing that his pleas would never be answered.

When he woke up the next morning, he went through the usual morning routine with Teddy, listening to the happy babbling.

He walked by it twice, before he noticed the door.

He froze, staring at it uncomprehendingly. Then, with a shaking hand, he reached for it. He turned the handle, and his breath hitched as the door slowly opened. He closed his tear-filled eyes as a fresh morning breeze touched his skin.

Teddy squealed, clapping his hands, and Harry opened his eyes, grinning down at Teddy.

"Wanna go outside, Teddy?"

Teddy clapped again, and Harry took that as a yes.

Harry stepped onto the balcony, laughing as he felt the sun on his skin. He went down the small staircase that lead to the beautiful garden he had seen every day from the windows of his room. Harry almost flinched when his feet made contact with the fresh grass.

He walked further in, then sat on a nice sunny patch, placing Teddy on the ground.

Teddy froze for a moment, wide-eyed, then he squealed happily, and he turned green from head to toe.

Harry laughed, savoring the sun kissing his skin, and watching Teddy discovering that the world was so much more than those four walls that kept them caged.

Harry woke to happy giggling and babbling. He smiled, before stretching and getting up from his bed, only to freeze when he saw Voldemort sitting on the couch with Teddy on his lap.

Harry's heart skipped an uncomfortable beat, then started racing like crazy.

Teddy, noticing that Voldemort's attention was elsewhere, stopped babbling at the Dark Lord and looked around. Upon seeing Harry up and awake, he held up his hands.

"Ba! Ba da!"

Slowly, afraid in a way he hadn't been in a long time, Harry made his way towards the Dark Lord. He took Teddy from the Dark Lord, hands shaking slightly.

Teddy latched onto his hair immediately—he really needed to get it trimmed, it was way past his shoulders by this point.

Slowly, Voldemort stood, and Harry looked up at him. He had never before realized just how much taller than him Voldemort was.

Voldemort reached into one of his pockets, and Harry had to stop himself from flinching. He stared at the brightly wrapped gift Voldemort took out of his pocket. Voldemort held it out to him, but Harry could do nothing but look at it uncomprehending.

"It is the child's birthday," Voldemort said, still holding out the gift.

Birthday? Teddy's birthday? Harry's eyes widened before he smiled down at Teddy.

"You hear that, love?" he asked, tickling Teddy softly. "It's your birthday!"

He took the gift, glancing at Voldemort from the corner of his eye. He held it out for Teddy, who squealed and latched onto it. Teddy seemed more fascinated with the wrapping paper than with the gift itself, turning his hair every color present on the paper.

Harry sat down on the floor with him, helping him open his present.

Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing at the colorful snake plushie. Teddy zeroed in on it immediately upon seeing it, babbling excitedly as he squeezed it to his tiny chest.

Voldemort stepped closer, and Harry only tensed for a moment when those long, thin fingers carded through his long hair. He had been expecting pain at the touch, his eyes widened when such didn't happen.

"Have a nice day, little treasure."

Harry remained seated on his spot, frozen, long after Voldemort had left the room.

After that day, there was always some sort of new toy appearing in the room for Teddy. Teddy's absolute favorite though was the tiny child-broom. Harry loved it as well and spent long days out in the garden chasing Teddy around on it.

Voldemort also became a more frequent guest.

From what Harry guessed, Voldemort would come at least once a week. They hardly talked, Voldemort mostly sitting on the couch reading while Harry played around with Teddy. However, maybe a month or so later, when Teddy took his naps, Voldemort would lay down his book and talk with him.

Harry would never admit it, but he treasured those moments. He might love Teddy with all his heart, but he missed interacting with people, he missed not being alone.

Voldemort, for all his bigoted views and murderous ways, was an engaging conversationalist. He was witty and intelligent and explained magical concepts in such a way that had Harry understanding it with an easy he never had before.

It took him a while to accept it, but Harry looked forward to those days with an eagerness that made him feel undeniably guilty.

"Happy birthday, little treasure."

Harry smiled at Voldemort, putting Teddy on the floor.

"Thank you."

Voldemort held out his hand, and without hesitation Harry took it.

Slowly, giving Harry time to pull away, Voldemort leaned in and sealed their lips in a tender kiss. Harry moaned into the kiss, and Voldemort pulled away with a smirk gracing his lips.

"I have been waiting for this, my little Horcrux," Voldemort hissed. "You're mine."

Harry let himself be pulled into another kiss, finally surrendering.