open to prompts/asks/snippets. Sometimes they may take a little while to answer due to real life and focusing on the main stories, but I am more than happy to fill them.
There’s been an influx of new readers, (probably people coming from Xanisis’ story?) and I want to make sure that everyone knows what Ichor is about, because I believe warnings are important (and when I put it up on the blog, I didn’t put warnings because I assumed it would only be readers already very familiar with the story). So before you head onto the blog-site, please take a moment to read the tags and be aware of what the story is about and what you might or might not be okay with reading. :)
Tags: rape/non-con, dubious consent, obsessive/possessive Voldemort, fem!harry, angst, not safe, sane, or consensual for a long time, rape recovery, wandless magic, (mostly)sane voldemort, politics.
Summary:
I should have murdered this, that murders me.
A story about love and obsession and a monster that can’t be named.
(Or: I am playing very fast and loose with canon. I’m exploring things I want to read/explore in canon, but in a more adult way. Not only is this a fem!harry, but I’ve altered the timeline as well. Tom Riddle was still born in his canon time, but the gap between him leaving Britain and returning as Voldemort is much larger. This makes sense to me as to why no one, even those who taught him/knew him/had parents who served him, knew who he really was. Voldemort will be much more political and manipulative, he is not the monologuing character we see in canon/movies. Please don’t @ me. I know he’s different. This is what I would want from a villain like him, please indulge me in this. (And honestly, I truly believe this is what Voldemort should have been, had JK followed the character she made Tom Riddle appear to be. But thankfully we have Horcruxes and can kind of hand-wave the insanity away. okay? okay.)
More important than anything else: there is non-con. I do not say this lightly. while there is a contract and Harrie does agree to what Voldemort wants, there is no question in my mind in the value of true consent. Harrie does not want Voldemort, she does not want to do any of the things he wants. It is non-con no matter her original agreement to the cease-fire-contract that exists in this story.
Please don’t ignore this warning. The non-con and the recovery from it is incredibly important to the story.
This was inspired by Slexenskee’s Nevermind the End, but also just my want to explore (and to see if) if it is at all possible to create something out of a pairing like this. To not brush over the truth of who Voldemort was and is, and all that he’s done, to not excuse him or redeem him, but to find acceptance and maybe some sort of growth with someone like Harry Potter.
I’m not sure I can explain this fic any better, if anyone can come up with a better summary, hit me up? haha, I always end up rambling.
But to sum up: A long, politically-manipulative Voldemort who is obsessed with Harrie and is all the more dangerous for it.
To feel anything deranges you. To be seen feeling anything strips you naked.-Anne Carson
https://nocturnememory.home.blog/
(As a side note, as I failed to mention this until someone new asked me, the order of the story goes: ‘Charity, Thou Art A Lie’, then ‘Yes, I Have A Thousand Tongues’, and finally ‘Bittersweet, Undefeated Creature’. You can also safely read the first two parts without any of the more serious tags coming into play.)
At the edge of the sand I unwound the elastic bandage and waded into the surf. A boy in a wet suit looked at my leg. He asked me if a shark had done it; there were sightings of great whites along that part of the coast.
I said that, yes, a shark had done it.
"And you’re going back in?" the boy asked.
I said, "And I’m going back in."
– Amy Hempel, from “The Harvest,” The Collected Stories (Scribner, 2007)
“Harry looked out for the first time at Ron’s house. It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.“
(x)
