#snakeface voldemort

[mrmxlemons]

“Lord Voldemort is your past, present, and future.”

A Voldemort Wins Alternate Universe illustrated by @vargurvargur

[vestiges-of-light]

When Harry and Voldemort's baby looks nothing like them

"Why the fuck is our baby BLONDE?"

Harry was still sprawled along the St. Mungo's hospital bed, sweaty and disheveled and clearly a little manic after having delivered their first child. Voldemort had just entered, carrying the newly-clean baby, and Harry thought he was going mad.

A healer cleared her throat. "Babies are born with all sorts of hair, Mr. Potter, it may not be permanent -- "

"But why," he demanded. "Don't give me recessive gene shit either -- "

"Recessive... gene?"

"Purebloods," he said, throwing up his hands. "There isn't a blonde in either of our families for the past eight generations. The baby was supposed to be a perfect blend of our features. Well, not our features. Mine, and Tom Riddle's, properly. It would make sense, wouldn't it?" he asked of the healer, who was of course at a loss.

They'd talked about it before, a bit. Voldemort was doubtful his current serpentine appearance would be genetic, and their daughter did seem to have a nose, so thank fuck for that. But they had agreed that the baby taking after Riddle would be the most logical conclusion. Harry had been daydreaming the entire pregnancy of that baby, a son or daughter with his bright green eyes and Tom's exquisite cheekbones.

Instead, their daughter was... blonde. Harry hadn't slept with anyone else (though to be honest, Voldemort wouldn't be overly concerned if he had), but the papers would talk. It was an ignominious way to introduce their daughter to the world. It would be such a headache.

Voldemort was stepping forward. "You are causing a scene," he said firmly. "Here, hold our daughter."

"Is she, though?" But he accepted the bundle of blankets and it was undeniable, that the baby's magic was the same as their own. "Huh. Hi, baby girl," he said in a gooier voice. "What happened to you?"

"Harry -- "

Her eyes were blue, but this at least was typical for newborns, he knew that much. Her expression was sharp and curious. Maybe there was something of Voldemort there.

"Leave us," Voldemort said to the healers, in a tone that didn't invite dissent. So even though it must be very against hospital protocol to leave them alone, they all scattered, shutting the door behind them.

Voldemort sat on the edge of the bed, clearing his throat as he did when attempting to be gentle with Harry. "The magic of my resurrection was entirely unprecedented, you know," he began. When Harry only gave him a dubious look, he continued. "And I certainly did not consider procreation as a goal or interest of mine when creating this body."

They'd talked about this, too. It took quite a lot of invasive tests for them both to even confirm they would be capable of conceiving, and that healer had said nervously that Harry's body probably offered a better chance at a successful pregnancy than Voldemort's did. Harry had laughed himself sick in that exam room, because they'd never even discussed Voldemort as the carrier, but apparently it wasn't meant to be. A lot of healer's visits and fertility potions later, Harry had gotten pregnant with Voldemort's child. One healer had asked to write up their... unusual circumstances for a medical journal (hell no) and all of them agreed it was nothing short of a miracle. And now Voldemort was going to tell him something had gone wrong.

"Really, this body is an amalgamation of many creatures," Voldemort continued. "My own soul, your blood. Nagini's venom nursed me to strength first. My father's bone. And... Wormtail's flesh."

"Oh fuck no," Harry breathed as he realized what Voldemort meant.

"Don't say those words in front of our child," he said severely. "I only anticipated that the baby would genetically take after my father as a -- guess. Obviously that didn't necessarily have to be the case. So instead, perhaps -- she might take after Wormtail."

Harry looked down at his daughter, with her wispy straw-blonde hair. "I am so sorry," he said to her seriously. A gurgle and a spit bubble. "Yeah, I know. Sorry your dada's a freak of nature." The baby did not seem concerned, though.

Voldemort's hand rubbed the back of Harry's neck. 'At least she's got a nose' would've been a cheap shot, not that Voldemort was sensitive about such things. "At least it wasn't Nagini," Harry settled on instead. "Sorry, baby girl. May you never learn the truth." Another spit bubble. "Exactly."

[vestiges-of-light]

If Guillermo del Toro can fuck a fishman and everyone thinks it's hot, Harry can fuck snakeface Voldemort.

[vestiges-of-light]

Every Voldemort/Harry fic in which Voldemort reverts back to Hot Tom Riddle:

Voldemort: I hate Muggles and my father so much, I discarded my name and face so I wouldn't have to be associated with him anymore. This was obviously important to me, because it came at the cost of being visibly marked with dark magic, being no longer being able to charm people with my looks, and generally no longer being able to pass in polite human society.

Harry: ok but I want a hot boyfriend lol

Voldemort: ok lol