Horcrux Smutfest: If he did not love, he could not hate

Beta'ed by Doriana

From YumeNoTsuzuki:

As I've stated in a previous status - the idea is to get 7 authors to write 7 chapters as almost stand-alone pieces in which the Horcruxes come to life and have their wicked way with Harry. 3 If you'd be interested in participating, write your name here, beside the Horcrux you'd like to cover in your story. These can be AU if you like. I'd just like them to be a series connected by a single theme, not necessarily the same universe or timeline. After all, every universe is a universe in which Harry needs to have Voldemort/Tom's cock up his ass.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

So, this is my first lemon! Enjoy it before takes it down.

As the three friends emerged from the water, Harry's scar began to hurt and pictures of Voldemort's despair invaded him, undeterred. He chocked on water and moved his arms, desperately trying to stay at the surface even as he couldn't see anything around.

He heard Ron's call, a distant, desperate attempt to reach him, but he could not reach back, not while Voldemort's pain was still there, in him, making him feel…what?

What was a Horcrux, if not a piece of his soul? Why such despair, if Voldemort could not love? Why feel an acute sense of loss, if Voldemort didn't care? Why did Voldemort care about one lousy Horcrux as much as Harry loved Sirius?

As he clutched Helga's cup with white knuckles (don't drop it, don't drop it), Harry coughed out the water, thankful for the water that successfully hid the few tears that had escaped him unchecked.

"It's him, isn't it?" Hermione, as perceptive as always asked. "Harry, you can't let him into your head again! You know what happened the last time!"

"Yes, I do, Hermione!" Harry yelled, still coughing up water. "But it's not like I can help it!"

"What is it this time, mate?"

"He's angry. And scared. He knows what we're doing. I think the last one is at Hogwarts. It's something to do with Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Hogwarts," Ron repeated, as they climbed ashore. "Okay. How do we get there?"

"We should wait for nightfall," Hermione advised.

"We'll go to Hogsmeade and though the cellar at Honeydukes?" Harry offered.

"That's good," the others agreed. "But nighttime is still many hours away, let's set up the tent and get some sleep"

"We shouldn't all sleep at once," Hermione reasoned.

"How about…Harry sleeps first and the two of us…guard?" Ron asked, his tone alight with mischief. "This way, the guardian won't accidentally fall asleep"

"I am fine with it if you are," Harry answered.

"All right," Hermione agreed. "Harry, since you're the one that withstood a Legilimency attack on top of everything, you should rest now."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yes. And take the cup with you!" Hermione added, handing him the object that Harry took with less disgust than Slytherin's locket.

'Probably because it belonged to the nice lady Hufflepuff,' he reasoned. 'Makes this Horcrux seem less evil, somehow.'

Ron and Hermione were probably at the border of their territory by now, because he couldn't hear them talk; or maybe they were just quiet on his account. Or maybe they were snogging. He snickered, but a pang of longing made him gasp. He was going to see Ginny maybe. That beautiful Ginny! Ginny was the girl he could tell almost anything, but imagining himself kiss her didn't have the same appeal it used to in the beginning, and it bothered him. Why didn't he miss her like that?

Harry sighed and changed into a long sleeved shirt and a pair of black trousers. He didn't bother with socks; the weather, inexplicably, had turned warm. He could have worn a T-shirt, but he was too lazy to go look for one.

Or maybe it was just the strong warming charm Hermione had thought to equip their tent with. Hermione was amazing. Ron was extremely lucky to have her.

Harry laid on his back, waiting for sleep to claim him. He didn't know how much time he had, and he planned to make the best of it.

He reached out to the nightstand and grabbed the cup. He traced the small badger, slowly, lovingly. It was a cup, a cup that Helga used to drink from…

Slowly, he took the cup to his lips. The metal was cold, but it began to warm up under his touch. Harry shook out of his trance, remembering what that cup was and what it could do. He slammed it back on the nightstand, his heart beating fast, and unclenched his arm, ready to pull it back.

But something caught his wrist. Or rather, not something. Someone.

Harry's eyes locked with a pair of blue eyes. Harry watched mesmerized as the young, handsome, elegant Tom Riddle materialized in front of him. For a few moments, he compared the apparition with the Riddle he had seen in Hokey's memory. They were identical.

The grip on his arm strengthened.

Harry panicked as his other arm began to search the bed frantically for his wand. Of course it wasn't there!

His next thought was to scream for help. But his pride won for a few moments, and that was all Riddle needed, as he silenced Harry with the boy's wand.

Harry was ready to throw his pride at this point, and he tried to pull his wrist out of Riddle's grip and run out of the tent, but the next thing he knew, his wrist was encased between the cup's handle and its body. Riddle pulled his other arm too and Harry was soon handcuffed to the cup.

He snarled in frustration as Riddle yanked him backwards and threw him on the bed.

Riddle sat down with a graceful movement and smiled at Harry.

"I don't believe we've been introduced. I am Tom Riddle." he said pleasantly, flashing a disarming smile and reaching out with his hand.

Harry's jaw clenched.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" he mouthed.

Riddle seemed to understand the words, or at least Harry's aggressive attitude, because his smile dropped and he frowned.

"I understand that this is not the best way to get to know another wizard, but you see, I really need you to cooperate. Here, I'll remove the silencing charm so we can talk."

"Cooperate with you, Riddle?" Harry spat. "Like hell I will!"

"Now, now, such bad language and from a young boy like yourself…the times sure have changed, haven't they? Your clothes look so different too…care to tell me what year this is?"

Harry blinked. Could this Riddle be…just as unaware of his surroundings as the diary Horcrux?"

"1997," he muttered.

"Oh…I see. That's a lot of time, a lot more than I thought…" Tom turned around, staring at a fixed point, lost in thought.

Harry struggled with the cup, and seeing as he couldn't free himself, decided to take a mad dash to the entrance.

But Tom returned to him just as his muscles flexed.

"So, young wizard, what is your name?"

"Harry Potter" he answered. No need to lie to the Horcrux, after all. There was no way it knew anything about him.

"A Potter, huh… I came out for a Potter? Sounds so unreal, and yet," he said, reaching out to touch Harry's cheek, ignoring his flinch "something inside you calls to me. So dark, and sweet, and so…irresistible."

Riddle leaned over Harry, his lips searching Harry's ear.

"What is it about you, Harry, that called out to me? Was it your loneliness? Your longing? Your…thirst for love?"

Riddle straightened himself, searching for an answer in Harry's eyes.

"What do you mean I called you?" Harry asked, his eyes flashing.

"You did." Tom Riddle answered. "Otherwise, I would still be inside the cup"

"So you're sucking out my life energy or something?" Harry asked, fearful.

"No. Nothing of the sort. Why would I…? Oh. You have encountered my diary."

"It almost killed the girl I –"

"Shh!" Riddle whispered, pulling Harry in. "I will not apologize for the actions of a jealous, pathetic schoolboy, because I am not that jealous, pathetic schoolboy."

"Jealous?" Harry whispered.

"There's only one reason it would choose to end her life in order to return."

"What?!"

"For you." Riddle whispered, his eyes fixing Harry's gaze with an intensity Harry had never experienced before.

"For me?!" Harry whispered incredulously.

"I'm glad he failed. I don't share. Not even with myself." Tom whispered, pressing his lips in a gentle caress against Harry, who was too frozen to react. Tom gently planted butterfly kisses across his cheeks, closed lids (when had he closed his eyes?!) and his lips stopped on his forehead, on the scar.

Harry whimpered, expecting the excruciating pain he was sure to experience.

Instead of that, he felt a pleasant sort of tingle that made his toes curl.

"He's been hurting you," Tom whispered, as his hands cradled Harry's head with the utmost care, eyes searching his face, his gaze finally settling on the boy's forehead.

Harry's breath hitched. No, no, no. He could not hear this from Riddle. He could not feel this! Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort hated him, tortured him and killed everyone around him.

"He's too far gone to see how hurting you is hurting himself." Tom muttered, enveloping Harry's frame in a loose embrace. "Oh, Harry!" he whispered, lowering his head to reach out to the creamy neck he could see through the black locks.

Harry trembled in his arms as Tom placed open mouth kisses across his neck. He could feel his trousers tighten across his crotch area, and that only meant one thing.

"Stop" Harry moaned. "Please…stop, Tom!"

"Give me a good reason why I should stop something that I have almost no control over."

"We're enemies." Harry whispered.

"Since when is that a good reason?"

"You want me dead!" there, Harry had said it.

"No, I don't want you dead, Harry," Tom whispered. "I want you alive and willing"

"Willing to…what?!" Harry squealed as Tom whispered a spell.

One of the cup's handles released Harry's wrist, but his arms were lifted over his head and his arms were again bound, this time to the bedside. Harry was laying completely on his back, at Tom Riddle's mercy.

"Please, don't do this!" he begged. "Torture me if you want, but please, not this!"

"Shh…" Tom answered, placing a long finger on his lips. "I won't take you without your consent."

Harry released a breath he had been holding, wanting to believe in Riddle's words.

Riddle shook out of his costume jacket and loosened his tie. His hand once again sought Harry's face, caressing it lovingly, an adoring expression on his face.

"I don't think I would ever get enough of you, Harry, if you were mine to love."

"Lord Voldemort cannot love." Harry said.

"And how do you know this? Have you ever been Lord Voldemort?" Tom asked gently, chuckling amused as his hands were caressing Harry's sides.

"I – what? No, that's preposterous! He hates me, he wants me dead!" Harry answered, as his arms twisting to try the cup's handles again.

"Hatred is not the opposite of love, Harry. Hatred and love are two shades of the same thing: obsession. The opposite of love is indifference. See, Harry? If Lord Voldemort did not love, he also would not hate."

Harry gasped, as Tom Riddle's hand had "innocently" brushed across a nipple. He cursed in his mind, as his mind began to wonder what it would be like if Tom's hand were to touch his skin directly.

"Harry," Tom whispered in his ear, the tip of his tongue licking his earlobe lightly. "Let me love you"

Harry trembled but refused to answer him.

Tom sucked on his earlobe, tilting Harry's head for better access.

"Tom, please release me. If you care about me, please…"

Tom's hand snuck under Harry's shirt, brushing on his lower back. Harry blushed and moaned as the searching hand went higher across his back.

He didn't even want to think about how red his face must be at this point.

"Are you feeling warm, Harry? I could help you with that..." Tom whispered mischievously, his mouth seeking Harry's again. Harry accepted the kiss with an open mouth and Tom kissed him slowly, sensually, feeling the boy melt into him, his body warming up even more, warming Tom in return.

Harry made a strange noise in the back of his neck, and Tom figured Harry must not be used to kissing, and he might need some air. He pulled back slightly, his tongue coming out to lick Harry's bottom lip slowly, teasingly.

Harry was panting helplessly, and Tom smiled at the picture. Harry was…so pure, unlike anyone he'd ever had before.

His left hand moved to the front, caressing Harry's flat abdomen, going up to brush against his nipples, playing with them as his right hand angled Harry's head for another slow kiss, this time pushing his tongue slowly inside Harry's mouth, seeking the boy's tongue and engaging it in a sensual dance.

Harry moaned again, the sweet sounds spurring Tom on. The left hand descended, brushing lightly against Harry's crotch; then, it began to move up, hooking Harry's shirt and lifting it as it went. He stopped kissing the dazed boy's addictive mouth with a small amount of regret, but he shook it off and slowly lowered himself, planting open mouth kisses from the border of his trousers upwards. He went slowly, teasingly, looking up at Harry to see the boy's reaction to his explorations. Harry was looking down at him through half-lidded eyes, cheeks red, panting and moaning and Tom did his best to memorize Harry's most sensitive parts.

His mouth attached itself to a nipple, as his hand played with the other. Harry arched towards him, moaning non-stop now.

Riddle continued his ministrations, his arm going down to gently squeeze Harry's growing erection through his trousers. His fingers followed the trousers' line down, to the perineum, pressing down, and Harry cried out, but Tom continued, as he latched on to the other nipple.

Harry was a moaning mess below him, all protests gone as Tom played his body expertly.

He had never experienced this extraordinary heat before, and he didn't want it to ever stop, to ever end. In his entire life, he had never felt safer, more loved and more powerful than now, at the mercy of this…amazing man, a man that he wanted.

Tom's open mouth moved up slowly to his neck, and his hands went behind Harry, kneading his buttocks.

"Tom..." Harry whispered. "Please love me!"

Tom stopped to look at him, and he smiled, a real, beautiful smile that Harry had never seen on the man's face before. His throat constricted and his eyes watered. He lowered them shyly, hoping that Riddle hadn't noticed.

"My Harry," he whispered. "I am here because you desire me."

It was such a simple truth, that Harry didn't question it, nodding dumbly.

Tom kissed him again, this time pressing harder, more passionately, and Harry responded in turn, feeling mildly annoyed at his restraints, because he really wanted to touch Tom, to pleasure him in kind.

And then, magically, the binds were loosened, and Harry's arms surrounded Tom.

The man stopped kissing Harry, startled.

"But…that couldn't be! Unless…Helga..."

"Mhm..." Harry agreed, not really hearing Tom because at this point, his erection was starting to hurt and he had to get release.

Tom seemed to understand what Harry wanted, because his hand flew up to his trousers, unbuttoning the top button, dragging the zipper down and the trousers down in one swoop. Harry was left in black cotton boxers, blinking at Tom who was still dressed.

Harry's trembling fingers went up to unbutton Tom's shirt, but he failed. Tom took mercy on him, ripping off his shirt and Harry's hands finally touched the pale, soft skin of his seducer.

His hands travelled on Riddle's back, marveling at the muscles he could feel, at the broad shoulders and the lack of hair. Tom kept kissing his neck as Harry continued his shy exploration, but he growled when Harry's fingers brushed against his nipples.

He hooked his fingers into Harry's cotton boxers and pulled them down, releasing the red, almost purple erection.

Harry gasped when Tom licked it all from the bottom to the top, not wasting any time in engulfing it, suckling enthusiastically, as one of his hands went to caress Harry's balls, eventually settling on a point behind Harry's balls and pressing rhythmically against it, just as his other hand followed up the boy's perineum, until in encountered his pucker, and began to lightly trace the rim.

Harry was screaming incoherently by now, and it didn't take long until Harry released his load, Tom removing his mouth at the last moment, the cum spilling on the sheets, as Tom's right hand moved up and down the shaft and his left one kept circling the pucker, occasionally attempting to pop in a long finger.

Harry caught his breath, his toes curling and uncurling, legs trembling still.

"Wait! What about you?" he asked.

"You'll see." he whispered.

Harry was starting to feel weird, as no one had even touched that part of his body, but instead of being repulsed, he spread his knees even further, moaning.

Tom grabbed a pillow and placed it under Harry's narrow hips, lifting them. He lowered himself, looking at Harry's clenching and unclenching hole with fascination. He licked his finger and traced the rim again, this time drawing a low moan out of Harry. He ignored the growing problem in his own trousers as he considered doing something that he had never done before to anyone.

He approached his face to Harry's perineum and licked along his perineum, from the base of his cock, to his waiting pucker. He traced the rim with his tongue, listening to Harry's screams to take him already, carefully and slowly inserting a finger into the tight passage.

Harry tensed, clawing at the sheets and Tom cursed himself for forgetting to lube his finger properly. He conjured the lube and coated his fingers generously with it, and Harry withstood the second attempt at inserting a finger better.

Tom probed around, loosening the passage for the second finger. Harry accepted it with more ease, and Tom took his time to search…and Harry suddenly screamed hoarsely, telling Tom that he had found Harry's prostate. He inserted a third finger carefully and scissored his passage gently as Harry turned into a sobbing mess above him.

Tom quickly discarded his trousers and silk pants, coating his length with plenty of lube, while the other hand still played with Harry's pucker.

He inserted it very slowly, inch by painful inch, watching Harry's face for any sign of discomfort. He gave Harry time to adjust, and the younger boy relaxed soon enough.

Tom began to move, increasing the pace, as Harry screamed incoherently, hitting the boy's sweet spot with dead-on accuracy. Harry's cock began to tighten again, but a two finger grip at the base prevented it from spilling. Harry's hands were too busy holding on to the bed stand to protest, and Tom kissed him as he came inside the boy. He gently pulled out, giving Harry time to calm his breath.

"Why?" Harry asked, looking down at his cock.

"Because you shouldn't have all the fun," Tom winked at him. "Give me just a second."

Harry watched mesmerized as Tom stretched his own hole, leaning down to kiss Harry's mouth. Harry understood what an extraordinary he was about to receive, and he decided to do anything he could for Tom, to make him feel as good as an inexperienced boy like Harry could.

Harry's mouth attached itself to Tom's long neck, sucking and biting, extracting soft moans from the man. His fingers caressed his sides lightly, going downwards to pump him lightly, as his other arm brushed across Tom's fingers to check the stretching, bypassing Tom's own fingers and going inside the tight channel. Tom's hands placed themselves on Harry's strong shoulders for support and his head fell back as Harry's searching fingers went inside, mouth still working on Tom's upper body. Tom moaned lowly when Harry carefully maneuvered his leaking length inside him, slowly pulling him down until he was fully seated.

Harry let him stay like that for a while to adjust, as his hand settled on Tom's hips and his mouth kissed across Tom's beautiful neck and chest, licking a pink nipple.

Tom growled and began to move, unable to withstand all the teasing. Harry moved with him, snapping his hips forward into Tom with a force he didn't think he was still capable of, thanking gods for all those years of Quiddich practice. Tom was already too far gone to question Harry's ability to hit his prostate with such precision, as if he did this every day. His blinding orgasm took him by surprise and he screamed Harry's name as he came across the boy's stomach. He collapsed on top of Harry as the boy lazily pulled out.

"That was…amazing, Tom..." Harry whispered, carding his fingers through Tom's soft sable locks. "Thank you, sincerely..."

Tom Riddle froze for the first time that evening, his cheeks coloring against his will.

He rolled off Harry and lay on the bed next to the boy, taking one of his hands into his own, interlacing their fingers. He pulled Harry's fingers to his mouth, kissing them softly. Harry sighed, taking in the bliss of the moment. He took Tom's other hand in his own, planting a kiss on the inside of his palm and cradling it close to his cheek. Tom's hand was soft and warm, and it fit perfectly into his hand. He felt so tired all of a sudden…

Tom smiled softly at the boy as Harry drifted off to sleep. He brushed the bangs from his forehead, tracing the scar.

"So this is what you meant, Helga…" he whispered.

He whispered two more spells, to clean the boy and redress him. His energy was running out, and he knew he was going to return to the cup any moment now…

But he stole one more kiss from Harry, a kiss on his forehead, lingering across his scar.

"Live, Harry Potter!" he whispered, fading.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Ron asked, looking at his blushing, nervous best friend. Harry had gone searching for his friends as soon as he woke up; he had found them sleeping cuddled together under the same blanket, just outside the tent. They hadn't seen or heard a thing.

He was astonished, but assumed Riddle had cast a spell so that they would not be heard. He felt oddly touched that his lover had been so thorough. His backside didn't even hurt. Tom had been so gentle and caring, that it was impossible to think of Voldemort and this Tom as the same person; and he couldn't help but think what Voldemort would have been like if Tom had stopped making Horcruxes just before the Cup.

"I can't…you know…destroy him. I mean, someone else should…"

"Of course!" Ron's eyes lit up. "I mean, Hermione hasn't had the chance to destroy any of them yet, she should have the cup!"

"Right." Harry answered, swallowing hard.

He handed her the cup with a heavy heart as they prepared for their departure.

A lonely tear fell as they Dissaparated with a silent pop.

Harry Potter was undeniably, irrevocably in love with the memory of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

AN: I wanted to give an additional theme to my fanfic.

As I'm sure you noticed, in the books and in the movies, the horcruxes that didn't attack their destroyers in any way were the cup and the diadem. I wondered - could it be that a little bit of the vessels/the founders has imprinted on those pieces of soul, thus influencing them, changing them somehow?

And this is how I created a cup!Tom that retains his charm, his seducing qualities, and his Slytherin nature, but cares about Harry and he selflessly offers the battered boy the most tender, best night of his life.

...this is pretty much why I chose the cup. I wanted my first detailed lemon to be "lovemaking", rather than just "sex".