Yo! So here's yet another fic. Don't worry, this one won't be a WIP for very long. I've actually (surprisingly) already finished writing it. It's eight chapters long, the last one being an epilogue of sorts. Every chapter will be around the same length (around 1,200ish) words, save for the epilogue which is shorter. If you've read my fic 'A Scattered Dream', this is somewhat similar, with things being kind of quick and vague. I haven't been doing much writing recently thanks to my health, and wanted to get something out, not or you, but for myself, so this is what happened.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters...

When Harry woke in the morning, it took him a long time to remember what had happened the day before. But really, all he had to do was look at the naked body laying in bed beside him for the memories to come flooding back to him.

Bitter and irritated and angry, Harry had allowed himself to be seduced to the dark side. Really, it hadn't been all that hard. He'd just been so...frustrated that he hadn't been able to bring himself to care about most anything, including the new visions Voldemort started sending him.

Those visions, disguised as lucid dreams, had been innocent enough. At first.

Voldemort had appeared to him in a more human-like form, looking like 'Diary Tom', only somewhat older. It was a far more pleasant sight than he usually was. He'd spoken to Harry kindly as well, advising him, consoling him, comforting him even. And Harry had let him, even despite knowing that that kindness was obviously fake.

It was a ploy, that kindness, but it still felt...nice. So even though he knew it was all insincere, Harry played along because the positive attention made him feel good. Made him feel a way he rarely allowed himself to feel-made him feel a way others rarely allowed him to feel.

But then things started to change. Voldemort found out about the Dursleys. It was entirely by accident, but he found out. Usually he slipped into Harry's mind to give him a vision at a specific time most nights, but that night, Harry wasn't asleep like he generally was when Voldemort made his mental visit.

It had been a bad day for Harry, everything that could have gone wrong that day had gone wrong, and Uncle Vernon had been absolutely furious with him-more angry than Harry had seen him in literal years. It didn't go very well for Harry.

Later that night, when Voldemort had brought him in another vision dream, he treated Harry...different. Harry didn't really know what that difference was, not at first, though he noticed that this difference persisted. And then he realized.

Voldemort's kindness was seeming a little more...genuine. He wasn't a hundred percent better or normal or anything, but he was...better. Better enough that it was then that Harry actually started actually looking forward to these encounters they were having, even if they were only taking place in their minds.

After that, they started to open up more-just a little at first, slowly growing more trusting of one another. It took some months, but eventually, and with only a slight amount of horror, Harry realized he could actually call Voldemort a friend.

It really was a very strange idea.

When he came to that realization, things started to change even more. They became more open around one another, open and casual, not only with their words, but with their gestures and mannerisms too. It made them all the more relaxed around each other. But with that came even more.

Certain things were exchanged between them, things that maybe shouldn't have been exchanged between enemies. Certain thoughts, certain words, certain touches. Vision dream encounters that had had a casual sort of friendliness, were now filled with a hesitant but growing intimacy. An intimacy that neither of them, surprisingly, even minded.

But none of this was happening in person. It was all only at night while they slept. When they woke in the morning, everything went back to what was supposed to be normal. Harry was just the Boy-Who-Lived and Voldemort was just the Dark Lord, and they were on opposite sides of the war. The war neither of them had talked about together since they had last considered one another enemies.

And they didn't anymore, not really. Others thought they still were, but they themselves knew that that wasn't true at all. They weren't enemies, but what they did consider one another as, they weren't quite sure. Or maybe they did and just couldn't admit it yet.

And then on Harry's seventeenth birthday, things not only changed, but finally came to a head. He was finally of age, finally able to use magic outside of school, finally able to make his own decisions. Finally able to leave the Dursleys and Privet Drive behind for good.

He had already packed up his belongings long before midnight, and had told the Dursleys that he was going to be leaving as soon as the clock struck twelve. They were very happy to hear that, and Harry meant it too. As soon as it was midnight, he made his way down the stairs, shrinking his trunk as he went. Then he bade the Dursleys good riddance and left Number Four for the very last time.

He wasn't surprised by what greeted him. There were Death Eaters standing out on the immaculate lawn. Robbed and masked, their wands clenched in their hands, they watched him. Their gazes were curious, but they didn't act. They had been ordered not to act-ordered not to speak to or attack Harry. They didn't understand why, but it was an order, and so they obeyed.

They knew they would be safe right now anyway. Not just from Harry, but the Order of the Phoenix as well, who had no plans to come here until morning. They-the Order, expected Harry to spend one final night with the Dursleys.

They knew nothing. They understood nothing.

And then one of the Death Eaters stepped forward slowly, cautiously approaching Harry. He wasn't sure who this was, but it didn't particularly matter. The man gestured for Harry to move away from in front of the door and, after a very brief moment of inner debate, Harry did so.

Silently, the Death Eaters filed into Number Four. Harry knew what was about to happen, and even though he had openly allowed it by moving, he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. But he would think further on it later.

When all the Death Eaters had vanished inside the clean, lemon polish scented depths of the Dursleys' house, Harry was left behind with one final tall, cloaked figure.

Without a word, the figure held out their hand, and without a word, Harry accepted it. This moment right here sealed the deal. This moment right here told Harry that things had to change. This moment right here told Harry that there was absolutely no going back now.

He didn't want to either.

It took less than a moment for them to get to the place Harry was now going to call home. But Harry barely had the time to take anything in. He blinked, spotted dark wood, and was then pressed into the wall. Hungry-almost desperate lips on his had him releasing a muffled moan that was instantly swallowed and silenced by the other.

This was the first time they were actually doing this in person, kissing each other-tasting each other. Harry's head was tilted back, the kiss deepened even further, and Harry gripped Voldemort's-gripped Marvolo's robes in his clenched fists, returning the fierce kiss with a desperation of his own.

It led to exactly what he had thought, had hoped-had wanted it to lead to.

He lay in bed, naked, blunt fingernails digging into Marvolo's back as the man finally, finally fucked him for real. They had done this countless times already in their mental encounters, and it wasn't as if those weren't real or anything, but this, right now, was real.

And Marvolo was hovering over him, one of his large hands braced on the bed, the other fisting Harry's cock, giving Harry even more pleasure on top of what the cock buried inside him was already giving him.

Harry couldn't speak. Breathless and overwhelmed, the sounds leaving him were breathy moans and incoherent, ragged whispers of Marvolo's name. He clutched at him desperately, needing to come, and Marvolo, looking satisfyingly dishevelled, gritted his teeth.

Harry came first, a final stroke sending him over the edge he had been dangling over so precariously. Marvolo was directly behind him, burying his face in Harry's dark hair, a barely audible groan falling from his lips as he too finally let go.

For hours after that, the only sound to be heard in the room was the sound of relaxed breathing, all the tension and desperation and relief dissipating as Harry and Marvolo slept through the night peacefully.

As much as he hadn't wanted to admit it, Harry hadn't been seduced to the dark side at all. No, it was falling in love with the Dark Lord that had brought him to where he was right now.

And if he was being honest, Harry had no desire to be anywhere else at all. He wanted to remain where he was, at Marvolo's side. Forever.

That's it for now. I'll try to post the next chapter tomorrow if I can. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!