Okay so, I promised I wouldn't post this but I totally caved and posted it over at hpvamp the other day and I thought I better keep some sence of organisation of my published stuff and have a copy of everything here so yeah, Harry/Vamp!Voldemort it is!


Title: Dry My Tears (Harry Potter Anita Blake crossover)
Author: Page Russet
Pairing: Harry/Voldemort, Draco/Jason, Anita/all her usuals
Rating: R (maybe NC-17 if I feel like it later)
Word Count: 1,899 (this chapter)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, Laurell K. Hamilton and other publishers, no money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Non-con, Ardeur, Voldemort, violence
Summary: (Crossover fic: Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake universe) Voldemort’s turned into sexy vampire, (Oooo!) Harry gets captured, (Oh Noes!) Chaos ensues (Aaah!) Contains: kitties, guns, Anita (+ gang), sex, biting, and a profusion of swearing. Enjoy!

Author Notes: Okay well, here is another one of these.... things... I seem to not be able to get out of my head. (Don’t blame me, it was the bunnies!)

It was really supposed to be PWP but one chapter didn’t satisfy the bunnies, so goodness knows what’s going to happen to it now. (I sure as hell don’t. EDIT as of June, 2008: just so first-time readers aren't put off by this, I'm still going with this story but I definitely know where I'm going with it now. XD Don't panic!)

Okay so, we’re following the cannon till Goblet of Fire here too, (OotP just explains too darn much!) So no dead whosits, and no prophesy. Cannon till Incubus Dreams of AB too. However I am stealing one or two bits like the explanation of how being with the Dursleys protects Harry, and that he is under surveillance at all times, (as is explained at the beginning of OotP). And maybe some characters too, if I feel like it.

...

So basically, this is me just trying to get the bunnies out of my head, so I am doing whatever the hell I want, sorry if this confuses anyone, if you want something a little more structured, go read Burn to Shine.

Oh, and Voldemort is a vampire. Why? ...Well, if you have to ask yourself that question, then you probably won’t like this fic.

Anyway, I’ll stop talking now.

(I totally blame beren_writes for the crossover demons.)



--


Harry woke up with a start.

Horror, fear, blinding, consuming terror.

The Death Eaters had taken him. Voldemort had him.


~..*..~


A simple enough thing, really. Hogwarts was protected. Hogsmede was protected. Privet Drive was protected - hell, even Kings Cross Station was under surveillance. However, if the Dursleys were to go out to the movies for Dudley’s birthday, if they just happened to bring Harry with them and if they ever so ‘accidentally’ hurried ahead, leaving him outside without telling them what theatre they would be in, Harry would be without protection.

It hadn’t even occurred to him to be concerned for the first few minutes; he’d just been glad to be out of the house, and not anywhere near his so-called ‘family’. He didn’t see the flare of metaphysical yellow light 20 storeys up above him. In busy central city, he thought nothing of the cracks of cars backfiring in the distance. He didn’t hear the muffled yelps a block or so down. In fact, Harry Potter; the Boy Who Lived, had never really considered that the darker shades of his magical life would follow him to the decidedly Muggle few months of his year until he felt the vaguest brush of magic tickle his senses. He had looked up, startled, body tensing.



He never had time to reach for his wand; he never had time to even think about it. 12 Death Eaters, all around him, mixing in with the Muggles, dressed ‘normally’ save for the all-black garb.

Lucius Malfoy, a delighted smile on his face, flicked his wand subtly. Harry never even had time to flinch before the strength went out of his body; he collapsed forward into Malfoy’s arms. The older man laughed pleasantly, speaking to obvious script; “Come along Harry my boy, too much drink for you last night, your mother was terribly worried.” The spell had made the young man inexplicably tired and he barely held onto his consciousness as a car pulled up and Malfoy and another Death Eater shoved him into the backseat.

Lucius had taken apparent delight in his role in this awful charade for the Muggles and had added with a smile, “Let’s get you home, son.”

Harry blacked out.


~..*..~


Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Fear. Terror terror terror SCREAM!

Harry bit down on his lower lip in an effort to prevent sound from escaping. Trying to think beyond the sound of his pulse beating at a million miles per-hour, he attempted to assess the situation.

Blackness, everywhere, below, above, allllllllll around. Silence, save for his increasingly ragged breathing.

Okay, heh heh, still not feeling better here...

He tried to move - only to find that, previously unnoticed, he was chained, hand and foot. Thick, heavy manacles circled his wrists and ankles. He was lying on his side on cold... stone, he thought, though really, it was hard to tell anything when the darkness was so thick it didn’t matter whether your eyes were open or shut. His breath came out in an odd little hiccup. Shit, Harry, calm down. No use in getting hysterical.

Yet.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

He let out a ragged gasp but tried to ignore it - there was obviously no one in the room yet (the taunting would have started by now), so not much point in trying not to make any noise. He reached one hand over to the opposite wrist, moving his fingers over the manacle there. The metal was ever so slightly warm from contacting skin. Harry had obviously been out for a long time.

Well, obviously no immediate daring rescue this time.

The manacles didn’t appear to be attached to any kind of chain, but when Harry tried to move enough to get up, there was a sudden jarring stop when he tried to move any limb more than a few feet.

Magical manacles. Great!

This time Harry was unable to stop the hysterical laugh. He had assessed by now that he was naked save for his boxers, he had no wand, no glasses (not that he needed them right now), he couldn’t move more than a few feet and the Dark Lord was wise enough now to Harry’s previously alarming trait of good-luck not to fuck up with excessive arrogance as much as he had on previous occasions.

Harry was so going to die.


Light appeared. A sliver of a door opening, only just wide enough to emit the figure who entered with a bluish burning light behind them.

A familiar voice spoke, “Hello Harry,”

Feeling the terrified recklessness of the soon-to-be-very-dead, Harry waved and said, “Hi Voldy, what’s up?”

The first thing Harry saw were the red eyes, forbidding light amongst shadows, then, lit by the pale light from the doorway, Harry finally looked upon his enemy once again.

He gasped.

“Well Harry, there have been a few changes recently.”

“What— How?”

Voldemort smiled, “Harry, you saw me when I immerged from the spell that regenerated me; I had a new body, yes, but I was hardly a vision of strength and ability.”

Voldemort moved forward again and Harry was able to see more of the changed creature that he was.

“Now, do not call me vain, my boy, for it would be a lie, but I could hardly lead a revolution of Men when I appeared barely human myself. The fickle beast that is humanity is foolish enough that they want their leaders to be beautiful.” He laughed, “The irony is that, now, I am not human at all.”

The tall, dark man moved even closer to Harry, cocking his head to one side to watch the gaping youth. “You appear quite stunned, Potter, do you not approve?”

Approve? Approve!? What kind of question was that?? The Dark Lord, before, had been some kind of sick mix between a spider and a snake, with barely a nod towards human form. He had been long, lanky, emaciated and scaly with demon eyes and slits for a nose.

Now?

Now Voldemort looked almost like he had as Tom Riddle at sixteen... except... better. Harry wasn’t sure what it was precisely, but this Voldemort was simply... beautiful.

No. Wait. Not beautiful. Gorgeous, stunning, ethereal, unearthly, did someone have a thesaurus? There really weren’t words for it in English; maybe some foreign language could sum it up better. Probably French or Italian, (they were good with things beautiful), Harry, however, was at a loss.

The man (if that was what you would call him) had pearly, alabaster skin and shining red eyes with slitted pupils surrounded by long, black lashes. Sweeping black eyebrows complemented finely sculptured cheekbones; he had a new nose, sharp, defined and perfect. His hair had returned in glossy black waves that framed his face with inhuman glow. The body was still long-limbed, but instead of spindly bones that seemed ready to snap, he appeared slim, slender and willowy, fingers like a pianist - beauty hiding uncompromising strength.

All these things were backed by a silvery, not-really visible aura that you only saw for a moment if you squinted and looked out of the corner of your eye. It was like the light of the Full moon was embracing him.

He was, quite frankly, the most amazing thing Harry had ever seen.

“What did you do?” Harry gasped.

Voldemort laughed again, “So you like it then? It is quite spectacular; even Belle Morte did not expect her power to have quite this much effect. But I must say, I did find several ancient Dark spells to augment the transformation. I think she was rather surprised when I rose immediately to a high level of Master. I had to buy her silence about the issue with her life, but it mattered very little to me whether she lived or died.”

Harry couldn’t stop staring, but had to voice the obvious question, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Voldemort grinned and this time it showed the wicked sharp fangs, “I am a Vampire, Harry.”


Harry wondered briefly if he was ever going to get his jaw off the floor. “Oh.” He said, but then felt that this was a poor effort in the face of his great enemy telling him that he had been transformed into an excessively pretty vampire (with emphasis on the excessively), so gave it another try.

“Aren’t vampires supposed to be all, ‘Arrrrg! Blood! Give me blooooood’?” he said, making a scary face and waving his arms in front of him. Crap. And that was better?

What the hell was wrong with him!?

Voldemort snorted and turned away, speaking while he wandlessly lit every sconce around the edges of the room, one by one.

“Not quite, my dear boy.

“One: I suspect you are confusing us with Zombies. Two, there are many breeds of vampires, all with different abilities and sometimes, appearances. And three, most tales of vampires that make it to the media - and even the history books - are tales of vampires turned revenant; these vampires are crazed, lost in their base instincts, only concerned with their hunger for blood.”

He turned back to Harry, his eyes glittering now in the flickering torchlight; the room was huge, one wall so far away that the torchlight barely reached them. “I, Harry, seeking to make my body stronger, my powers more vast and, of course, to reach for immortality, decided to align myself with these ancient creatures. I chose the line of Belle Morte, the Queen of sweetest death, because the gifts she would bestow on me would help me achieve numerous goals. Belle’s powers are those of beauty; manipulation of the mind and,” he stepped up to Harry, who was still kneeling, bewildered, and ran a graceful hand through Harry’s hair, “Manipulation of sexual desire.” He finished.

Harry was feeling rather dazed by now, he was beginning to forget his fear and couldn’t seem to look away from those endless, red eyes.

“I think that I should be feeling satisfied with the gifts she has bestowed upon me, don’t you, Harry?” Voldemort spoke again, running light, cool fingers down Harry’s cheek.

“Wha? Oh, um, yes?” Harry replied vaguely, still captured by the ruby spheres.

Voldemort smiled.

Then, before Harry was aware of even moving, he found himself slammed against the back wall of the dungeon, Voldemort pressed against him, pushing his chin to the side and leaning his head down into Harry’s neck, “I’m going to make you scream for me yet, Harry Potter.” He whispered, Harry barely had the time to gasp before burning, freezing fangs sunk into his neck and he screamed!

...Then groaned.

Merlin!

He gasped.

So good!

Harry, helpless, melted into the unyielding embrace. The touch of the vampire was sending intense waves of pleasure through Harry’s body, he let out a helpless sound and tipped his head further to the side, Voldemort moaned and bit deeper, moving his hand in between their bodies to grab Harry’s straining erection. Harry let out another small scream and it couldn’t have been more than a moment before Harry came, hard, his head spinning as his body shattered under the incredible dual-pressure.

As he started to fade into unconsciousness, Harry felt Voldemort lick at the wounds on his throat and say softly, “Ah, Potter. So sweet... I knew you would be so sweet.”


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