Hello

a blog for my fandoms and writing

[shutupvoldemort-blog]

002

Harry Potter Drabble

Pairing: Lord Voldemort/Harry Potter Rating: Teen Warnings: Blood bias (it’s not racism because muggle isn’t a race), Dark Lord mercilessness, Harry is subservient and idk some of y’all might not like that

Lord Voldemort stood before a line of sobbing muggles, their clothes torn and hair matted with natural grease and dirt, blood staining their bodies with no way to tell whether it was theirs or a loved one’s. It wasn’t right, of course; tearing them away from their homes, murdering the children if no magic was detected, and taking the adults away to be used as temporary practice targets or, perhaps, slaves of some kind. But Lord Voldemort had no inclination to be right.

One of them tried to run, but was immediately cursed by a Death Eater. Its screams burst out into the air. It made the crying louder, mixing into a horrendous orchestra. Lord Voldemort closed his eyes and listened to the symphony.

“My Lord?”

Tucked under the Dark Lord’s arm was a boy bordering on man, with messy black hair and shiny green eyes. When he was answered by Lord Voldemort opening his eyes and looking down at him, he continued on. “Do we have to be here?” Do I have to be here?

“We will leave soon, after I give the order to allow my Death Eaters to enjoy themselves.” He said. “Understood, Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”

[shutupvoldemort-blog]

001

Harry Potter Drabble

Pairing: Tom Riddle Jr./Harry Potter Rating: Mature Warnings: blood, possibly be considered body mutilation?

Blood bubbles across the line drawn on the inside of Harry’s thighs. He holds back a shiver, at the biting-cold air and Tom’s gut-freezing stare, and focuses on the blood. It gathers and forms a proper drop, the force of gravity tugs it down and it makes a stream. He feels it on his skin, so delicate there, until it lands on the sheets below him. He looks up and forces himself to look back into Tom’s eyes.

“Am I good?” He asks.

“Yes.” Tom says, like a pinky-promise- like when Harry was four, and they promised never to leave each other and Harry made them twist their fingers together as they stated their short vows. The memory fades in and out, clear but unimportant in the present.

Harry beams. He couldn’t imagine being any happier, than where he is now.