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Summary
OFFICIALLY DISCONTINUED!!!
It wasn’t fun, being paraded around like a prize, but that was exactly what Harry was. Something pretty to look at, to jeer at, to make fun of. A trophy of sorts, a show of victory. The Death Eaters snickered to themselves, though Draco had barely spared Harry a glance as Harry sat beside Voldemort in a smaller chair at the head of the table in the dining room of Malfoy Manor.
Voldemort ran a hand through Harry’s hair, still black, still unruly, sticking up in odd ways, but it had begun to gray prematurely at the temples. “You would look wonderful with longer hair, Harry,” Voldemort mused, letting his hand trail down the back of Harry’s neck, making him shiver. “Though, I wouldn’t want to force you to do something you’d rather not.” He continued, dragging a spindly but undoubtedly alive, not-white finger across Harry’s jaw. Harry nearly scoffed, as if this wasn’t the man forcing Harry to be his glorified bride, sitting beside him like an unimportant queen, there to simply vaunt.
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In which Harry Potter becomes Voldemort's consort to prevent further bloodshed.Warning: mentions of non-con and possibly other violent acts. Warnings will be updated as I write
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Bookmark Notes:
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Bookmark Notes:
Ch. 1