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

Written for Quidditch League Competition – Round Three

Prompt – SEEKER: Write about a third party interest in your OTP – My OTP: Voldemort/Harry Potter

Yours, for as long as you'll have me

There it was again. That pesky little fly around his property. Did they think he was blind? That he didn't see what was going on right in front of his nose? Did they think he was a fool? He had always known that it was too good to be true, that there was no possible way that those whispered words of love were honest. They had never been before, why would they be now?

Though what angered him more than anything else was that the little demon had him so wrapped around his little finger that he couldn't even bring himself to torture him for this.

How far had he fallen that he would rather see the little imp happy than hear his screams of pain?

But most of all he hated that the old fool had been right. Love was always meant to be his downfall. He just hadn't expected it to be quite like this.

Something was wrong. He had this feeling for the last few days. His love had been distant and old doubts that he had buried deep inside were rising to the forefront of his mind.

He could still see the betrayed looks of his friends and family. The hateful words the Order members had spewed when they saw him standing beside the Dark Lord. The clearly possessive hand that had held him close to that tall, lean body, all of it had just shown just how lost the Light had been.

And even now, more than two years later, he couldn't help but wonder if he had made the right choice. If that day at the Ministry after Sirius fell and he cast his first Cruciatus curse, if he shouldn't have taken the Dark Lord's hand.

Truthfully he didn't know if he would have been able to refuse it. He had been so tired, he just had no fight left in him.

The Dark Lord, cunning man that he was, had seen right through him. Through all the fake masks, right to the heart of the matter. To his hate of the Dursleys, his resentment of the sheep in the Wizarding World. Let it not be said that the Dark Lord wasn't an opportunist.

And he, well, he had just given in.

It tormented him for months. Every time he heard about a raid, about a new death, about the effort that the Order was making to get him back. It almost broke him.

The Dark Lord though, he had other plans. He wouldn't let him be broken.

That's when they started spending time together. Talking, training, or simply reading by the fireplace. Those moments were a prized treasure for him, and he would dare to say that the Dark Lord enjoyed them just as much.

Somehow, along those moments, he fell in love with the man. Not Voldemort, the man who had killed his parents. But with Marvolo, the brilliant man behind the Dark Lord persona. The genius, passionate man that very few knew even existed.

Some suspected, others, such as Dumbledore, thought that he had been lost under all those dark rituals and insanity. But it hadn't been, it had merely been hidden and he had the privilege to have been able to see it all.

How could he have stopped himself from falling in love? Even if that did bring the Light to it's knees. For once he had chosen to be selfish. And even though doubts often plagued him, especially when his friends had been brought in and put in shackles, given to Death Eaters, he didn't regret it.

He consoled himself by saying that at least they were alive. All of them. They were alive, and he made sure that they were treated very well. They just had to have a Death Eater watcher because they were still talking about rebelling against the new regime, something that could not be tolerated.

As time passed he buried those doubts, because for the first time in his life he was truly happy. He was loved. The words may have never been spoken but he had felt it. Every time those eyes looked at him, every time those hands and lips claimed him. He had felt it on every inch of his body.

So he put the little voice, that sounded suspiciously like Snape just before Marvolo killed him for trying to get Harry to the Order, that said that the Dark Lord was only using him in the back of his mind and with time completely forgot about it.

Now though, now that Marvolo shied away from his touch, was out of their bed before he even woke and went to sleep long after he had, that little voice was making a comeback.

"Harry?"

He glanced up and saw the concerned eyes of Theodore Nott. He smiled at the other teen. Theo had become a good friend. A really good friend. Someone who didn't sneer at him and called him a whore behind his back. The Death Eaters thought he didn't hear them, but he did. He knew what they thought of him. But he didn't care. He could see the jealousy so he only smiled at them. They always looked away when he smiled at them.

He had asked Marvolo once why they did that. Marvolo had laughed and said that the Death Eaters were afraid of him. He had been rather stunned to say the least. Afraid of him? Whatever for? Then Marvolo told him that he had shown the Death Eaters what he had done to Wormtail and that the smile he gave the Death Eaters was the exact same one he had when he ripped Wormtail's heart out.

So Harry kept smiling at them, and any pleasure he took from their reactions he attributed to being in the Dark Lord's presence for so long.

"Sorry, Theo, did you say something?"

"Are you alright?" Theo took a seat beside him and caressed his cheek.

"I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind lately," he smiled at his friend.

"Anything I can help with?" Theo offered and Harry's smile grew just a tiny bit. Theo was always so helpful.

"No, it's nothing, don't worry about it."

He tried to get up but Theo quickly grabbed his arm pulling him back down. He lost his balance and stumbled onto Theo, just as he felt the seductive magic of his love fill the room. He looked up in time to see the betrayed look Marvolo had, the pain he had been unable to hide and suddenly everything clicked.

Before he could do anything at all Marvolo left the room, his magic crackling around him.

He pulled away from Theo, only then noticing the satisfied glint in his eyes.

"Theo," he murmured, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing.

"I'm sorry," Theo whispered, "I love you, I can't stand to see you with him. He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't even love you!" Theo exclaimed, jumping from his seat, "He's using you, Harry, can't you see that?"

"Theo..."

"I give you my heart, Harry. Can you say the same about him?" Theo challenged and Harry smiled at him.

He was in his office doing paperwork. He wasn't hiding. Dark Lords didn't hide. He was merely preserving the life of his Death Eaters since he had killed four of them on his way to his office from the living room.

How dared they? How dared they do something like that?

He wanted to walked right back and kill both of them. Slaughter them and smear their blood on the walls. But every time he tried to get up from his seat to do just that, Killing Curse green eyes flashed in his mind and he lost all the will to fight. To live.

Had love reduced him to this? To this coward?

Love... how he despised it.

He looked down when he saw that a small box had popped onto his desk, no doubt left there by a house-elf while he was lost in thought.

He scanned it quickly and when he found nothing harmful on it he opened it.

He could do nothing but stare at what was inside.

An envelope appeared right on top of it. With steady hands he opened it.

'My dear love,

He gave me his heart,

now I'm gifting it to you in the hope that you'll take as much care of it as you have mine.

Yours, for as long as you'll have me,

Harry'

He didn't know how long he stared at it. It could have been minutes, hours, days. He didn't know. He didn't care.

His. Harry was his. Would always be his.

Maybe it was time to discuss forever with his beloved. Maybe Harry was ready to make a Horcrux.

Love... how he cherished it.