A/N: First time trying my hand at writing A/B/O, and also the first time I'm writing this pairing - and these characters. (Well, almost. My only experience with Harry is as a 5-year old girl.)

Everything you recognize is taken from the book. Mistakes are my own though.

As he walked through the Forbidden Forest towards where Voldemort was waiting, Harry thought back on everything that had brought him here. This had always been his fate after all - to fulfill the prophecy. Months of Horcrux-hunting together with Ron and Hermione… and oh, how he had envied his friends during those months. Both could happily say that they were betas, unlike him. The Boy-Who-Lived just had to be an omega. If only luck could stay on his side instead of sweeping in whenever he found himself in life-threatening situations… but as luck would have it, he had repressed his heat for half a year and had grown resistant to the heat repressing potion. He wouldn't be able to take it again until after the residue had washed out with a heat cycle… which happened to have started just hours ago. Harry had tried taking the potion, hoping to repress his heat for a seventh month, but had only ended up feeling sick. Instead, he had masked his scent to keep the unmated alphas on the battlefield away from him. The spell must still be going strong he noted, when Yaxley and Dolohov pointed their lightened wands in his direction. With the strong scent of an omega in heat masked and with his invisibility cloak hiding him, he was impossible to find as he stood still in the darkness.

The Death Eaters talked quietly to themselves, mumbling about if they had heard an animal or not. They stopped first when Yaxley looked down at his watch. Harry's hour was up. He followed the two men towards a clearing. There was a fire burning in the middle, and in the light he could see web remains and more Death Eaters. What a lovely place to die… Harry thought, as he stepped into the clearing. He must have been lost in thought as he looked around, because suddenly Voldemort's high, clear voice broke the silence.

"I thought he would come. I expected him to come."

Harry watched the Elder Wand between Voldemort's long, thin fingers with some fascination as the man talked.

"I was, it seems… mistaken." Voldemort continued. Harry finally broke from his weird trance and pulled of the invisibility cloak. The Resurrection Stone had since long slipped from his fingers unnoticed.

"You weren't."

Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster: he did not want to sound afraid. It was hard to hide how his heart thumped in his chest, not only at the thought that he was the Boy-Who-Lived that had walked willingly into the Dark's claws, but also an unmated omega in heat surrounded by betas and alphas, most bigger or stronger than him. He took a deep, calming breath and stepped forward into the firelight. Nobody mattered but him and Voldemort. It was just the two of them.

The illusion was gone as soon as it had come. He watched how Voldemort's nostrils flared - which was quite the feat with a mostly nonexistent nose Harry had to admit, heard the giants roar, and the cries, gasps and laughter from the Death Eaters. Voldemort had frozen where he stood, but his red eyes had found Harry, and he stared as Harry moved towards him, with nothing but the fire between them. Harry could hear Hagrid yelling from a nearby tree, until Rowle silenced him. Harry kept his gaze on Voldemort, everything else melting into the background. Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a single mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter." he said, very softly. "The boy who lived."
None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: everything was waiting.

Voldemort had raised his hand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted whatever would happen to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before his spell lost strength, before he showed his condition-
He saw the hand come down hard on his shoulder and felt a familiar press from all directions and iron bands around his chest. They disapparated.

Harry stumbled when his feet came down on the ground again, but the grip on his shoulder kept him upright. After casting a cursory glance at Voldemort, he looked around at their destination. The room was big, with a big window and a door leading out to a balcony, as well as two doors to connecting rooms. The walls were a dark blue, the wooden floor was dark, there was a black carpet underneath a kingsized bed with dark blue canopy and bedding in a lighter blue with silver details. All in all, it was a beautiful room, but he had an annoying feeling that he knew whose room it was and he didn't like it one bit.

"I wouldn't think your bedchambers as the most fitting place for the final battle, but it is a lot nicer than the forest was." Harry commented lightly as he stepped away from Voldemort, the hand falling from his shoulder as he did. It was hard to stand upright on his own, not because of any apparition aftereffects, but because his heat hit him as a wave when he no longer stood in the forest. He felt sweat dripping down his skin, and his legs shaked in exhaustion from standing up.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry." Voldemort started, red eyes still staring at him. "The final battle as you call it, has to wait."

Harry blinked sheepishly at him.

"Why?" he asked. "You try to kill me since I'm a toddler, and when you have me before you, you decide to wait? Is this a joke?" he asked, his voice raising in pitch until it was hysterical.

"You're in heat - the Boy-Who-Lived, an omega, who would have thought? I will not kill you when you can barely stand up." Voldemort explained. Harry shaked his head, trying to understand the situation. It was just… just… surreal!

"You'd rather kill a toddler than someone in heat?" he cried out bewildered. Voldemort tilted his head slightly to the side.

"When you put it like that, it does sound illogical, but yes."

"How did you know anyway?" Harry cried out again. Voldemort raised a barely there eyebrow in amusement.

"Your scent, Harry. I'm an alpha, you're an omega, and your scent right now is downright delicious. Did nobody tell you how the wizarding dynamics work?"

Harry shook his head, deciding against mentioning that he had masked his scent with magic, and therefore it should be impossible for Voldemort to smell him. He even strengthened the spell by mentally feeding it more magic, but it didn't seem to make a difference.
"I'm not staying here with you!" he decided, and made for one of the doors. As he reached it without being stopped, he grew suspicious. Harry tried the door. Locked.
"Alohomora." He tried the door again. Still locked.
/Open/ he hissed in parseltongue, and tried the door a third time. Locked. Harry turned back to Voldemort, a defeated look on his face.

"Apparition or creating a portkey will not help you either." Voldemort said calmly, and sat down in an armchair in front of a fireplace that Harry hadn't noticed earlier. "Neither will floo powder." Voldemort added, seeing where Harry's eyes were drawn to.

"Let me guess, you can leave while I'm kept prisoner?" Harry asked. Voldemort looked at him with badly hidden amusement.

"Of course, Harry. We can't risk that anyone else scents you. You are to stay locked inside my chambers until your heat cycle is over. After that, we can return to the battle."

"Why would you care if anyone scents me or not?" Harry asked bewildered.

"I can't let anyone mate with you." Voldemort said. Harry felt as if there was an else missing from that sentence. Either way, it was illogical to him.

Not able to stand Voldemort's company any longer, or looking at the snake-faced man for that matter, Harry went over to the bed. He laid down on the covers and claimed the bed as his own. His body relaxed somewhat, but the fabric of his outer robes felt horribly restricting, to not mention his jeans. Harry couldn't help the whimper that left his lips. Feeling Voldemort's gaze on his back,he hid his face in the pillow. It did help in suffocating his sounds, but the strong smell of alpha that overwhelmed him only made more whimpers leave him. After six months of repressing his heat cycle, it came on much stronger than usual. This level of pure need would haven't happened until the third day if he had regular cycles. Harry laid whimpering into the pillow until he fell into an exhausted, feverish sleep.

The smell of hot chocolate woke him up. Harry sat up somewhat, leaning on his elbows, and looked around groggily. Why would there be hot chocolate in May? He soon got an answer to the unspoken question:
"The warmth will sooth your throat, and the chocolate helps releasing endorphins that lessen pain and decrease stress."

"Muggle science?" Harry asked, as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He thought he had fallen asleep with his glasses on, but they were not on his face as the still blurry surroundings proved. Harry frowned. Had Voldemort removed them?

"Yes, Muggle science. It can be quite fascinating." Voldemort answered, as Harry woke up enough to remember that he wasn't talking with the man at the moment. He recognized the shape of his glasses on the bedside table and put them on. Seeing clearly he noted two things, first; he was no longer wearing his outer robes and was therefore left dressed only in his t-shirt and jeans, second; the hot chocolate smell came from a mug standing on the bedside table, next to a plate with buttered toast.

"You've slept for five hours. The food was brought here by an house elf." Voldemort informed him.

Harry looked at the food warily, before lifting up a piece of toast to nibble on. Some food would hopefully make him feel better. He felt in need of a shower though…

"There's a bathroom through the door that you surprisingly didn't try to open yesterday."

He glanced at Voldemort this time. Was the man using legilimency on him? Harry frowned again.

"You're being childish by not talking to me." the man continued. Harry decided to zone him out and focus on eating.

A piece of toast and half a mug of hot chocolate later, Harry carefully got up from the bed. His clothes were plastered to his body, and he couldn't help the small sounds from his throat whenever a sensitive area was rubbed as he moved. It took him way longer than he wanted to cross the room to the bathroom door, with Voldemort's gaze following his every movement. It was a great relief when he could lock the bathroom door behind him. Harry took a moment to rest against the door as he looked around the room. There was a giant sunken bathtub with different taps that reminded him a lot of the prefects bathroom from his fourth year. There was also a shower big enough for three people in the corner, a toilet, a sink and a full-length mirror, but the bathtub was the most noteworthy. Harry moved to it and turned on some of the taps. Soon the bathtub was filled with hot water, some oil that smelled like vanilla and blue bubbles that had their own blueberry scent. He spent a second imagining the Dark Lord smelling like vanilla and blueberries, before remembering the heavy scent of cinnamon and dark chocolate that the pillows had held. He swore as his face flushed. It's okay to be attracted to the scent, as long as I'm not attracted to snake-face. Harry decided. It was only because he was in heat that he found the scent attractive anyway.

Harry got undressed slowly, the jeans had been stuck to his legs almost like a second skin. When he finally was naked, he got into the bathtub. The hot water relaxed his stiff muscles, and he leaned back against the edge. He closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the warmth of the water and in the opportunity to finally relax after being in the middle of a war for so long. Harry drifted off as he laid in the water.

He felt himself getting dragged out of the now cool water and held tightly in an embrace. Harry slowly opened his eyes, the world coming back until he realized his face was pressed against a clothed chest.

"You stupid boy! Are you suicidal? Falling asleep in the bath, you could have drowned!"

He reacted instinctively as he remembered who was holding him, and pushed free from the tight embrace.

"Why do you care? It would have made it easier for you!" Harry snapped, and made to stand up. Voldemort stopped him and embraced him again. Harry tried to fight it, but the man smelled so good, and was so warm and… he whimpered needily before realizing that he was nuzzling against Voldemort's chest.

"I care, Potter, because you are mine. Mine to kill, mine to possess, mine to mate with."
The last four words made him get his senses back, and this time Harry was successful when he pushed away. After hurryingly reinforcing the scent masking smell, he realized two things. One, he was both wet and naked, and two, Voldemort as an alpha was downright terrifying.

"I'm not yours!" Harry snapped, and looked around for an towel. He found one waiting for him on the floor by the bathtub edge, and hastily snatched it up to cover himself. Voldemort gave him an once-over that seemed to both last forever and linger unnecessary on his upper body before meeting his eyes.

"Perhaps not yet." the man agreed.

Harry searched the floor for his glasses, noticed his pile of clothes was gone, and left the bathroom.

He found his glasses as well as a change of clean clothes waiting for him on the bed. Harry hurriedly put the clothes on while Voldemort still was in the bathroom. After putting on his glasses he saw that the hot chocolate and buttered toast had been exchanged to tea and toast with strawberry jam. He would have complained, but he really couldn't eat much else than toast during his heat. Harry sat down on the bed to eat his lunch as Voldemort came out of the bathroom. The man didn't say anything as he sat down in the same armchair as earlier. The rest of the day continued in silence, with Harry on the bed and Voldemort in the armchair. The third day continued much like the second had done, with an exception for drowning accidents. By the fourth, Harry was cursing his heat with colourful explosives and Voldemort was greatly annoyed at not being able to touch. Not to mention that Harry hadn't as much as glanced in his direction since the second day.

"Is it because of my looks?" Voldemort asked suddenly. Harry actually gave him a cursory glance this time, but didn't answer since he had no idea what the man was talking about.
"I must admit, it didn't cross my mind that aesthetically pleasing and sexually attractive is two fairly different things. That is not to assume that you find my snakelike form aesthetically pleasing either. I have been faulty with you, and for that I apologize. Let me correct it immediately." he continued. Harry watched amazed as the glamour charm dropped with a golden light, leaving a man that didn't look older than 25 in place of the Dark Lord. After long scrutinizing, he recognized the 16-year old Tom Riddle's features.

"How?" Harry breathed, forgetting his silent treatment for the moment.

"He talks!" Voldemort, no - that name did not fit this face - Tom exclaimed, clapping his hands together in delight. "As for how, I'm sure you have learned about glamours."

"Not that." Harry grumbled. "I saw you! After your resurrection!"

"Oh, that. Did you really think that was the only part of the ritual, Harry? I got my old body back a few weeks later, when the second ritual was ready. Since then, you've only seen me wearing the glamour."

"...but you're old!" Harry complained. There really was no reason for Tom to look 20.

"For that, I'm assuming I got back my body from before I delved into the Dark Arts too much."

"You mean with horcruxes?" Harry asked. Tom actually got quiet for a moment and stared at him.

"You shouldn't know about those." he answered slowly. "Though it doesn't surprise me that Dumbledore figured it out… and of course he would tell his Golden Boy about it." Tom sneered. Harry decided that it was enough conversation for the day, and laid back down on the bed to sleep. The very attractive man seated on the other side of the room wasn't helping his hormones one bit, and he was glad he hadn't whimpered. Trust his temperament to take over enough for the heat to be manageable. Too bad that it didn't last.

The fifth day, Tom was fed up. Harry's heat wasn't over yet, and the insufferable brat refused to talk to him - though he had noticed Harry glancing at him a lot more since he dropped the glamour.

"Why are you still ignoring me?" he complained. Harry sat up in bed, leaning on his elbows, and sent Tom an amused look.

"You sound like a child." Harry giggled. Then he turned bright red because he had just giggled, and settled down so he was laying on the bed again.

"That is not an answer to my question!" Tom snapped.

"You want a list? You kidnapped me, your followers have killed my friends, you usually try to kill me, you killed my parents, you are the bloody Dark Lord, we have to kill each other, and hot body or not, you're 70 years old!"

"Kidnapping is much better than death, your dear friends have also killed my followers, you do try to kill me as well, mind you, and you have succeeded much better than I, my title should not count for anything, not to mention it should be an honor for you to be in my company, and unless you know something about the prophecy that I don't, I don't see why we have to kill each other, and lastly, 54 years is not that big of a difference for wizards. Dumbledore was 115 years old when he died. I'm only 9 years closer to him in age than I am to you. Not to mention that you are 17, so it's completely legal."

"Okay, firstly, that is not making things better. You're old enough to be my grandfather!" Harry complained. Tom answered by raising an eyebrow at him, since age really was the last of their problems here.

"The prophecy?" he asked. Harry took a deep breath.

"It says… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those that have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. You know that part. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal - the mark is my scar - but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not - which Dumbledore insists is love, but I'm questioning it. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. After that, it just repeats the beginning."

"If the mark that makes you my equal is your scar, that prophecy is self fulfilling." Tom mused, as he thought it over. "The last part sounds utterly ridiculous too, we are both quite obviously alive. It can be argued that neither of us are truly living, but survival should surely still count for something. You have already vanquished me twice, first as a toddler, and then again at the age of 11. I would think the only thing left here is that either must die at the hand of the other...but, say, Harry, what do you know of french?"

"Not much." Harry admitted, as he tried to follow Tom's line of thinking.

"It's a beautiful language, very inspiring. Voldemort comes from Vol de mort, which is french for flight from death. The french have a very curious expression, la petite mort - the little death. It's usually a reference to orgasm, as it means 'the brief loss or weakening of consciousness' which is a similar sensation. Does it not seem like quite the coincidence that I'm an alpha, you're an omega, we're both unmated, and your heat cycle starts on the day of the battle?" Tom explained. Harry had the fleeting thought that the man would have made a brilliant teacher before he understood what Tom was saying.

"The prophecy is telling us to fuck?" he exclaimed in shock.

"Do try to be less vulgar, Harry, but exceedingly, yes."

"Prophecy or no prophecy, why would you want me to begin with?"

"I'm not sure myself. It could be because you're the first omega to ever catch my attention. Hormones is quite the inconvenience usually, so I learnt long ago how to remain stoic to the scent."

"But why did I catch your attention?" Harry cried.

"It could be because of our connection." Tom mused. "It has always puzzled me. Perhaps I can sense your heat cycle through it. It's definitely making me feel possessive of you."

"That connection is all your fault for making me a Horcrux to begin with!" Harry protested. Tom stared at him inapprehensibly.

"You're a… Horcrux?" he whispered, almost worshipping. "That's wonderful! My mate, my horcrux!" This time, it was Harry that stared at Tom inapprehensibly.

"I'm not your mate!" he snapped.

"Oh, but think about it Harry! If we think about the prophecy as actual death for a moment, it's saying that only we can kill each other, making us immortal, and with my Horcruxes I'm even more so! With you being my Horcrux, it should help your healing abilities, leading to improved immortality for you as well. If we mate, we could be together forever!"

"Would we want that? To be together forever?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"Yes, why not?" Tom questioned.

"I'm not exactly overwhelmed with joy at the prospect of being with a guy for eternity. I'm not gay."

"...are you sure?" Tom asked with obvious disbelief. "Have you ever been together with anyone to be so sure?"

"Not really… There was Cho, but she's also an omega so it could never have worked… and I guess there has been something with Ginny, but she is too much like a sister." Harry thought out loud.

"Who have you found attractive then?"

"My godfather was handsome when he lived, and Zabini in my year looks quite good, and so do you… shit."

Tom looked at him, obviously amused.
"Your type is tall, dark and handsome then?" he asked, holding back a laugh. "I think I fit quite nicely, and you did just admit that you find me attractive. Any other problems?"

"I'm only 17!" Harry sighed, exhausted after the long conversation. He could feel the sweat running down his neck and back from trying to ignore the heat.

"Age again? I thought we already covered that…"

"No, I meant, I don't want to lose my virginity like this. It's not even my age as much as being locked inside in a room with someone that was supposed to be my mortal enemy… you know?"

"I suppose I can understand what you're thinking about. It was long since I thought of being unmated as the same as being a virgin… but it can be because of your exposure to muggles." Tom said. "I do pride myself in my self control, so I can go slow if you want to. It will definitely get the edge off for both of us."

"Okay." Harry agreed. As he relaxed, his heat washed over him as a wave again. A needy whimper left his throat as he realized that Tom had moved to sit on the bed while they talked.

Tom removed Harry's glasses before bending down over him. He slowly brought his face closer to Harry's. Their lips were nearly touching when he stopped.
"Is this okay?" Tom whispered and Harry felt Tom's breath as it washed over his face.

"Yes." he whispered back, and Tom leaned down so that their lips touched. The kiss was slow, painfully so. Tom sucked at his lower lip for a moment before he glided his tongue over it. Harry opened his mouth as he whimpered. Tom took it as an invitation to deepen the kiss, and for a moment Harry forgot everything else. The small relief from the heat made him feel both lighter and more desperate. Tom kissed him over and over again for what felt like hours, as their hands carefully exploried the other's body but stayed on their clothes.

/More/ Harry hissed in parseltongue, the snake language coming easier than the human tongue at the moment. /Warm/ he then complained. Tom got the hint and removed his t-shirt. With the relief of cold air against his skin and Tom's lips against his, Harry forgot all about his scent masking spell. Suddenly, Tom growled.

/Mine/ Tom hissed against his lips, and made a short job of the rest of their clothes. Harry forgot to mind as he felt Tom's skin against his.

Harry woke up first the next morning. He felt warm and the sheets was stuck to his body with sweat, and Tom's arms were heating his skin from where they were placed around his waist, but he felt better than he had done since the heat started. The pure need was still buzzing underneath his skin, but he didn't mind it as much now. He nuzzled closer to Tom and fell asleep again. The next time he woke up, it was to Tom staring down at him.

"I'm sorry." Tom whispered, looking absolutely horrified with himself. Harry smiled at him.

"Together forever." Harry answered, and the two words meant everything - apology accepted, yours, love.

"Together forever." Tom agreed, looking absolutely amazed that this boy could get through his defences like this.

They stayed in bed until Harry's heat was finally over and they came to the regretful realization that they had left in the middle of a war, in which they were on different sides. There's a heavy silence in the air as they got dressed, collected their wands and in Harry's case also shoes from their forgotten places. Tom reapplied his glamour. Harry hesitated just for a moment before pressing a kiss to the thin lips of Lord Voldemort, and then they disapparated. They landed not in the clearing, but in front of Hogwarts. The battle was still going strong, but it seemed like both sides had lost hope during their time away. As they reappeared the spells gained more force. Harry didn't hesitate as he took a step forward and casted a sonorus at himself.

"Stop!" Harry demanded, and the battles around him actually did. The Death Eaters looked to Voldemort, who nodded his agreement. Soon, wands were lowered and Harry felt like thousand pair of eyes was upon him. Voldemort stepped up beside him, and casted sonorus as well.

"The battle is over. Harry Potter have surrendered-"

"Have not!" Harry interrupted, and turned to glare at Voldemort. The Death Eaters in the crowd gasped.

"We have agreed on a truce." Harry continued, ignoring that Voldemort is now the one that glared at him. "Minerva McGonagall, if still alive, is to be Hogwarts new headmistress. The curriculum will be decided by both sides. The Dark side can chose a new Ministry of Magic, as long as their equality include muggleborns and squibs, not only Dark Creatures."

"And when did I agree to this?" Voldemort asked, unamused for once.

"When you fucked me." Harry answered cheerily as he beamed at Voldemort, the sonorus forgotten for a moment. This time, the gasps - and outcries of both disgust and rage - came from both sides. Voldemort shaked his head, and turned back to the crowd. He dropped his glamour, resulting in another round of gasps but also some highly inappropriate comments and whistles. Harry don't blame them, since Tom still looked like he just had sex. Harry even more so, but his hair is always unruly and most of his hickeys and love bites are hidden by his clothes.

"As my mate so rudely decided, the Light can decide on a headmaster or headmistress for Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy will be now Minister of Magic." Tom informed the crowd, before turning to Harry. "Have we missed anything?"

"Nothing that cannot wait." Harry decided, and cancelled his sonorus. Tom did the same. They wordlessly agreed to go over the dead and start arranging funerals.

They met up again hours later by the Great Lake. Harry was sitting by the lake shore, staring out at the water surface. Tom came up from behind him and sat down. Harry let his head lean against Tom's shoulder.

"I can't believe that it's all over…" Harry whispered.

"It it's quite unexpected." Tom agreed and placed an arm around Harry's waist.

"Not how you imagined it?" Harry couldn't help but ask dryly.

"I'd think this is much better." Tom answered thoughtfully. "It's… nice to know that someone will always be by my side after a life of being alone."

"We'll be together forever." Harry promised.

"Yes, I really like the sound of that… together forever."

End. Reviews would be lovely! x