TARNISHED

-Chapter 1-

Harry remebered the first time he saw his young wife. At first, when he was still just a boy, the raven haired wizard didn't understand what it meant to be 'bethrothed'. Now, almost 11 years old and laying beside the beautiful young succubus sleeping in his bed, Harry couldn't help the smile which was tugging at his lips. He had only ever heard of Hermione Jane Black - the Dark Lords precious Princess, and the heir of notorius mass murderer Sirius Black. To him as a young lad, she was just a fairytale. A damsel whom needed to be rescued from an ivory tower. And the best part of it all was that he, Harry James, was the knight in shining armor. His best mate Draco Malfoy was feeling the same way with his own bride-to-be,

"She's gunna be all mine, Potter. Can you imagine it?" Draco asked, lighting up one of his rolled cigerettes and taking a long draw of it, "she'll be the prettiest girl ever, like an angel,"

"I'd be repulsed by an angel," Harry admitted, refusing to smoke though Draco gladly offered. He was still only 8 after all, he'd have plenty of time to smoke when he got older anyhow, "I'd rather have a demon. A ferocious, howling beast which can never be chained. I think an angel would bore me."

"She'd still be pretty though right?" Draco questioned, arching one of his fine eyebrows, "certainly you, of all people wouldn't want to be caught dead sleeping with some common wench?"

"Oh she'll be pretty all right," Harry assured his best mate, fiddling with the Potter signet ring resting upon his finger, "she'll be positively intoxicating. I want to get drunk on her beauty,"

"Thatta boy," Draco cheered softly, taking another puff of his roll as he looked into the flames of the nearby fireplace, "what do you think its like? Being married?"

"No different then being related I'm sure," Harry admitted, "but we're only 8 after all. We still have a few years before we meet our betrothed,"

And Harry was indeed right. To hormonal pre-teen boys, the two year wait was far too long. As Malfoy was older then Harry by a few months, when the time finally came, he got to meet his new wife first. The lass, Luna Lovegood, was exactly what Draco had been hoping for. She was willowy and pale, and had lips the color of roses, and hair the same shade as the moon. But the best thing were her eyes, her piercing icicle blue eyes which sparkled with malice and excitement. And as Harry watched Draco kiss her by the hand, and take the Unbreakable Vow before the Dark Lord, Harry felt the jealousy spark within him. Hopefully his own wife-to-be would be just as gorgeous, perhaps even more so, just so he could rub it in Malfoy's face.

And finally, when it came time for Harry to meet Hermione Jane, his mother Lily dressed in her finest clothes and jewelry. Harry did as well, eagerly wanting to make a strong, masculine impression on his new wife. After all, she was the cherished Princess of Lord Voldemort himself, a peacock amongst common quail. There was no way in bloody hell Harry would screw it up.

"There you are Harry," Lily rambled on, fixing his hair, or his tie, "no need to look like a ruffian,"

"I don't look like a ruffian, mother," Harry insisted, rolling his eyes as Draco chuckled and patted him on the back. On him, Luna was gladly hanging about his waist, dressed in pearls which nearly blended with her skin,

"Ah, you'll be fine mate," Malfoy assured, straightening out his own jumper and running the flat of his hand over his hair, "after it's all done, we'll go out and have a smoke and leave the ladies to their duties, aye?"

"Aye. A cigarette sounds peachy right about now," Harry admitted, watching from his place in the ballroom as Lord Black, man of the house, entered from across the room. The young wizard had only ever heard of the Black family, but knew it was one of the most prestigious in the wizarding world. Both Sirius Black and Bellatrix Black (Lestrange) were on the Dark Lord's left and right, meaning they had great influence in the goings on of the Death Eaters. Straightening up, Harry jutted out his lip as Sirius Black himself strode over to meet the betrothed of his daughter. Upon first glance, he didn't really look the part of a mass murderer. Lord Black was square and poised, wearing nothing but finery, and with his dark hair combed tightly back against his head in a similar manner to Malfoy. But his eyes were like pits, dark, empty, and looming. And suddenly Harry had no trouble believing this man had killed before,

"And this must be the man of the hour," he said, masculine voice chipper and betraying the darkness of his gaze. Harry nodded and immediately stuck out his hand,

"Lord Potter, sir. I am betrothed to your daughter,"

"ah! And forward too? I like you already. I am Sirius Black, Lord Black if you don't mind," Lord Black took Harry's hand and shook it firmly, "So now, Lord Potter, how do you believe a woman should be treated, hm? I certainly can't just any prat marry my precious Hermione,"

"I'd treat her like a queen," Harry answered without even having to think about it, "she'd be my entire world,"

"And, would you be hungry for other women?"

"Certainly not," Harry snapped harshly, though quickly composed himself, "I wouldn't even give the time of day to any old common woman,"

"And would you chain her?"

Harry smiled and shook his head. These questions were all too easy.

"That, my good sir, would offer up no challenge. I want a beast. A howling, feisty demon who will strike me down with her fire,"

There was a moment before Lord Black's face lit up and he smiled, laughed and smacked Harry on the shoulder,

"Good answer, boy!"

"Sirius, stop your insignificant prattle,"

The room got significantly heavier as everyone present bowed respectfully. Harry had only seen the Dark Lord once or twice before, and his mere presence was the most overpowering thing the young, raven haired wizard had ever experienced, "come now, Harry, my boy. We will start the ceremony now,"

Nodding his head respectfully, Harry made a quick thumb's up motion to Draco before taking place on Lord Voldemort's right side. If Harry was remembering correctly, his entire world seemed to stop spinning as his bride-to-be was escorted from a side room by her mother. Though her face, as tradition entailed, was covered by a red lacey veil, her figure moved like a ghost. She weighed nothing, and spoke nothing as she came to stand on Voldemort's left. The Dark Lord smiled at her, lifted his hands, and sighed heavily,

"Today is the day, my friends, where two betrothed will finally come together as one-"

Harry tuned out most of the speech as he chose instead to rake his eyes over the young woman successfully hidden from him. Her figure, though she was around his own age, was fairly curvy, and was a telltale sign of her great beauty in the near future. But Harry was practically dying to see behind the veil, "Harry James, you will now place the Potter ring on your new bride's finger,"

Blinking dazedly, Harry nodded and slipped off the signet ring resting on the third finger of his right hand, slipping it instead onto his new wife's left ring, "and you, Hermione Jane, will transfer your ring,"

Hermione did as she was told, Harry noticing how her hand lingered on his fingers for a little longer then necessary before pulling back, "now, you will clasp your right arms together for the Unbreakable Vow,"

This was the first time Harry really connected with his wife-to-be. Her grip, he noted, was strong but not in any way nervous. She even dug her nails into his arm a bit, just for the hell of it. This amused Harry, as the very tip of the Dark Lord's wand touched their intertwined hands. As was traditional, Harry started with his vows. The usual wedding questions of course. Do you promise to love me forever, to be loyal, to be honest, to never part unless in death? Hermione agreed, and It was her turn for the vows. Hers were the same as Harry's, except her last was a tad bit different.

"Do you promise, Harry James, to follow me in Death?"

Harry had no need to hesitate and smiled confidently, squeezing his partners hand just a little tighter then necessary.

"I do."

The fiery tendrils of the bond soon vanished and the spell was complete. Harry remembered feeling overjoyed as the Dark Lord removed his wand, placed a hand on each of the newlywed's scalps, and announced to the room. "Lord and Lady Potter-Black,"

There was some light clapping, and Harry excitedly reached for the veil hiding the face of his soulmate. What he found was more then he could have ever dreamed. Hermione Jane was far too pretty to be an Angel. Oh no, she was a succubus straight from the pits of hell. Her terse skin was fire tanned and dotted a bit with freckles, and her lips were upturned in a permanent smirk. Tendrils of auburn hair tumbled down towards the small of her back, fading into cinder black at the tips, and she was adorned in every jewel imaginable. But her eyes, sweet Merlin, they were what Harry had been dreaming about night after night. They were dark and round like marbles, glinting with mischief and fire as obsidian lashes flared out to create the persona of a tricky feline. Yes, Harry had everything he ever wanted in his new bride. She was certainly of a different sort.

Harry was even more then pleased when she came at him right away, passionately locking her lips with his own and pleading silently for access to his throat. Naturally, Harry obliged to her wishes and he had the first real snogging of his life. And good lord was it satisfying. Like Malfoy had promised, they went out to have a smoke on the veranda while the new brides got acquainted afterwards,

"And I thought I got lucky," Draco teased, swallowing some Firewhisky along with his smoke as Harry grinned stupidly, "you're a dog, Potter. A total dog,"

"It's like a dream come true. Now, all we have to do is become Death Eaters when we turn 16, and it'll all be set,"

"Amen to that Harboy,"

The boys clinked their glasses together and drank to the stars that night. Now, it was almost a year later and Harry found himself staring happily at the ceiling of his chambers, his voluptuous wife's bare torso laying across his. Hermione's lips were curled into a smile, and her eyes were gleaming,

"Good morning, Lord Potter," Hermione caressed Harry's cheek with her long red claws, "did you sleep well?"

"Like a dog, love,"

"Mm, good," smiling, Harry accepted Hermione's light kiss as she rolled out of bed. Moving to examine her bare back as his wife held the sheets about her hips, Harry admired the Phoenix tattoo adorning her side. It was one of his favorite traits about his wife, and had apparently been given to Hermione as an 11th birthday present. It didn't really bother Harry much that his wife was older then him by a year, in fact, he found it endearing, "what are you doing, love?" Harry asked, standing from the bed and moving to the bathroom where his wife was already dressing. Snaking both arms about his wife, she chuckled as Harry pulled her up against his chest, "we could just stay in bed today?"

"Not an option, though very tempting," Hermione stated, "we have to get on the Hogwart's Express today, remember?"

"Is school starting already?" Harry pouted playfully, "shame,"

"Indeed. Butour mission awaits us, Harry. We wouldn't want to disappoint the Dark Lord, now would we?"

"I don't think he could ever be angry with his little Princess, Hermione," Harry stated, sighing and releasing his wife. Of course today was the day they were traveling to Hogwart's. Of course he'd have to leave the comfort of Malfoy Manor (Death Eater HQ) for some old coot' castle, "bah! We've barely spent enough time together, love,"

"Don't be upset, Harry," Hermione stated, pulling on a loose red t-shirt to accompany her muggle jeans, "I'm sure that vivacious temper of yours will give us plenty of excuses to find some old closet to hide in, anyhow,"

"I like the sound of that," Harry admitted, lifting a brow at his wife. She looked like a filthy mudblood dressed in jeans a t-shirt and worn out trainers, "I much prefer you with you jewels on, love,"

"As do I, but we must fit in with the other student unless someone. I'm supposed to be a mudblood witch, remember? And you, a clueless halfblood,"

"I wish I could stay with Draco as a Pureblood," Harry grumbled, "what is Luna, again?"

"Pureblood, but...different, you'll see when we meet her on the train today, love,"

Leaning up against the counter, Harry watched out of bored curiosity as Hermione knotted up her hair, which had become more brown since entering the bathroom. Twirling slightly, she held out her arms, "well, how do I look?"

"Absolutely hideous,"

"Awe," Hermione threw both arms around Harry's neck and smiled, "you always know what to say,"

Harry smirked and gladly kissed his young wife, unhappy at the thought of having to change into muggle clothes and pretend to be some commoner. He, after all, was Harry bloody Potter, and god dammit he wanted to be treated as such.

-Hello my lovelies, Rose here. So this is my new HP idea, and obviously its a Dark-verse story, where some of our characters are playing for the opposite side! It just popped into my head despite it being a bit more...I dunno, graphic then usual? So I decided to write it down. I know that the characters are young, but I can imagine that Pureblood society has different standards when it comes to things like marriage, smoking or tattoos. So no hate, just positive or constructive reviews. Let me know if I should continue? And if I should, what will happen next? Till my next update!

Rose-