#voldemortxharry

[brmoth]

Quick sketch for you rac 😭 I can’t do digital drawing for the life of me, same with hands. I can’t draw hands 👹 anyway, felt like drawing this little scene ♥️ @racfoam

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort Characters: Harry Potter, Voldemort Additional Tags: Master of Death Harry Potter, BAMF Harry Potter, Time Travel, Or at least time fuckery, Slow Burn, Harry's a snarky little shit, But so is Voldemort, That's what makes them soulmates, Lots of feelings about immortality Summary:

The Horcruxes have become unstuck in time, and it’s the responsibility of the Master of Death to figure out why. And since Voldemort needs to be punished for transgressing into the realm of Death anyway, he might as well come along.

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FINALLY I get to post this, this past week on anon has killed me, lmao. Written for the amazing @crownwithoutstones. Come read Harry and Voldemort being sarcastic assholes to one another as they fall in love 👍

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What We Can’t Name the Baby (Harrymort fluff&banter)

Their surrogate was three months pregnant, and Bill and Fleur had recently passed on their baby name books to Harry. He’d only been paging through them idly one evening, but when Voldemort found him on the library sofa, he joined him. “Anything you like?”

“Mm. Maybe.” He handed a book to Voldemort, then summoned parchment and a quill.

The first rule was that they couldn’t name the baby after anyone they knew. It was too fraught, and the newspapers would make too much of it as a political statement. Harry’s family tree hung framed on the wall opposite – they were all out. (Which honestly was no great loss. Fleamont, what the christ.) Any tributes to anyone who’d died was out. Neutral names only.

The second rule was no Roman names. “I don’t want people to think our kids are from that sort of family,” Harry said.

“The purebloods use Roman names because it’s among the earliest known wixie settlements. It’s historical.”

“I don’t care. They all sound insufferable anyway. And rule 3,” Harry pointed the quill at him. “No astronomy names.” He was eyeing the Black lineage on the family tree. “As we are not that sort of family either.” A sigh of acquiescence. They each flipped open their books.

“Beatrice,” Harry began.

“Bellatrix.”

“… Oh yeah, I guess.”

“Cyrus.”

“No.”

“Cyrus was a great king,” Voldemort said. “He freed all the slaves of his empire and arguably created the concept of human rights. You should love him.”

“Too much like Sirius.”

“Fine. Druscilla.”

“Sounds like a Death Eater name.”

Voldemort’s eyebrows arched. “And what does a Death Eater name sound like?”

“Like that. Just… malevolent.”

“Are you thinking of Druella Rosier? She was supportive, but never properly involved.”

“No.” Taking up his quill, he penned too evil beside Druscilla. Voldemort accepted it. “What about… Chelsea?”

“A Muggle name.”

“And what’s a Muggle name sound like?” Harry inquired. He didn’t expect Voldemort to like anything too common, though. Fine.

Continue reading on AO3

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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."

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Cicatrization (Harrymort political-angst-banter-epic, 700k)

Cicatrization: the formation of scar tissue at the site of a healing wound.

With the statute of secrecy repealed and an armistice with Voldemort signed, the wixen world struggles to put itself back together amidst the Muggle world. Harry is the collateral by which everyone keeps peace; and Voldemort takes his place within the Ministry as the architect of the Unification, even if he’s sort of insufferable about it. Meanwhile: why are the Slytherins going missing, what is causing the magic of Hogwarts to decay, and who wants to carve Harry’s Horcrux out of his soul?

Read it on Ao3 here.

(this has been posted for a few weeks, but I’ve just finished the cover art, and I love it so much. so that’s the real brag of this post.)

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Them: This fic is so depressing, everything is terrible for all the characters all the time.

Me: No wait, in the Christmas chapter they go almost an entire week without anything devastating happening. It's practically fluff.

[leslink]

Si han leído fanfics de su serie/anime/pelicula favorita y no les ha pasado esto, no han leido suficiente fanfiction.