Chapter Text
The day started off like any other. The tired grumbles and yawning of his doormates, shuffling through the dorm in the early hours of the morning getting ready for another day like the day before.
“Harry, you up?” Hermione asked between yawns, standing next to him and shaking his shoulder slightly. Harry hmm-ed for answer and got out of bed, sniffling and shivering a bit at the cold air making contact with his skin.
The Dining Hall was at full speed with students filling their plates with food and idly chatting about this and that. Harry took a bite into his bread, feeling content listening to his friends' conversations. He felt a pang in his chest when he took a look at the seat that was supposed to be Ginny Weasleys, before she had her life taken from her.
The war had changed a lot of things about Hogwarts. What used to be a Dining Hall filled with nonstop chattering and laughter has now changed into cordial conversations and quick meals, the beautiful arrays of endless food turned simpler and smaller in size, but impressive nonetheless.
His eyes wandered to the professors table and wondered briefly about how they’re faring, do the students' pain hurt them so or do they go about their day–trying to forget about everything behind Hogwarts safe walls? During his musing Harry tried to seek eye contact with the Headmaster, but yet again was rebuffed. Though the school year had just started, Harry had noticed how the air had changed around the Headmaster. Gone were his twinkling eyes and ostentatious robes, all that was left was a withered old man who hadn’t time for Harry anymore.
‘
Harry stilled as he felt a hand on his shoulder, “My dear boy, would you mind coming with me to my office?”
Turning around he faced a morose Headmaster, his eyes were downcast and his feet shuffling as he waited for an answer. Deigning to give the Headmaster an answer who had been ignoring him for weeks at a time, he simply steeled himself and gestured for him to lead the way.
Once situated inside the office and sitting on one of the plush chairs facing the Headmaster, he finally spoke. “My dea… Harry… You have the power to change the tidings of the war. Not only as the Boy-Who-Lived, but as an Omega. The Dark Lord has offered his hand in marriage… to you.” He continued, “You can stop this war! There’ll be no persecution of muggle-borns, life will be normal again.. The world will be happy at last…” But not you, went unsaid.
Harry’s expression stilled and he sat stiffly, he could barely remember to blink or breathe. The ringing in his ears grew louder and louder.
“You’re joking, right? Is this just some sick joke? Because I don’t find it funny in the slightest.”
The boy managed to rasp out in a whisper. For he was just that, a boy who was a puppet in the war to come. A boy who had not even graduated, newly presented as his secondary gender and woefully melancholic about it. For who had expected the wizardings world saviour to be a gentle hearted omega, overcome with desire and incapable of making his own decisions without an Alpha around.
The Headmaster’s eyes steeled, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but… it’s necessary. As your guardian I consent to this marriage.”
And those were the words that doomed Harry for eternity.
‘
He stood by the Black Lake with Hermione and Ron. No one dared to say a word after Harry had come running to them, silent tears streaming from his face and shell-schocked.
“He can’t do this to me! He can’t! I refuse!” He crumpled to the floor, his skirt pillowing around him as he did so. Sobbing while his two friends held onto him and whispered sweet nothings to him, knowing that there was nothing that anyone could do. What is done is done, and can’t be undone.
“This marriage isn’t on your terms, he has the upper-hand but Harry there is one thing you mustn’t forget.. You still have your humanity and virtue. You are no monster.” Hermione whispered out with tears streaming down her face.
Why, if that simple thing could’ve comforted him, he would’ve been dancing on rainbows at this point. But that wasn’t the point, was it? They were all trying to comfort themselves. Willing themselves to believe that it was all a nightmare and tomorrow they’d get on with their daily lives as they always had.
“You’re strong for an omega, fast and nimble. You may not be able to best him in magic but you sure are quicker than him.” The red haired beta whispered, and squeezed his shoulder. Years of running from the Dursley’s vicious punishments have honed this specific trait of his, and when joining his parents' murderer's marriage bed he’d imagine he’d grow even faster.
Harry started humming on a song from a movie that Dudley had been obsessed with growing up, peeking at the telly through the cracks in his cupboard. Meaning to bring comfort to the trio but only making everyone more aware of Harry’s dour fate.
I sense there’s something in the wind
That feels like tragedy’s at hand
Can’t shake this feeling that I have
The worst is just around the bend
‘
The wedding was a quick affair, with no one except the Headmaster, Minister Fudge and the priest to witness the conjoining.
Harry walked down the aisle in the wedding dress that Lord Voldemort had picked out for him, a modest dress with a thick veil that covered his face. And good that, so his future husband couldn’t see the tears streaming down his face.
Suddenly Harry was standing face to face with Voldemort. His red eyes gleaming with haughtiness over attaining what he wanted, in slowly extinguishing hope and happiness in another person’s life.
And how unfair wasn’t it all, that a monster like him could be so beautiful? His dark brown hair showing the slightest bit of silver at the front, his face built by the Gods themselves. His tall stature and muscular body only intimidated the young boy more.
Voldemort met his eyes and smiled, as if to comfort him. There was no comfort in this affair, in fact he felt even more scared.
The priest began to say, “Harry Potter, do you vow to submit and commit to your Lord and husband, attaining to his needs and keeping him happy?”
“I do.”
“Harry Potter, do you vow to stop all your fighting against your Lord and husband and follow him as the true ruler of Britain by taking his mark?”
The tears kept falling down his cheeks but he refused to let his voice waver of show any signs of fear.
“... I do.”
“Then, you may mark the bride and I pronounce you husband and wife.”
Voldemort lifted the veil off his face, reaching up with his hand and delicately wiping away the tears from his face. The Alpha retreated his hand and took out his wand. “It’ll all be okay, my dear, Lord Voldemort cares great for all of his possessions.”
And with those final words the Alpha marked the Omega, the strong needlessly dominating the weak.
And Harry screamed. Screamed until his lungs were sore, for it felt like a worse fate than death. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before, not even when his stomach was eating itself from days without food or water, or having his back slashed by knives by Vernon Dursley. They felt safe in dealing all their punishments for they knew that Harry’s magic would repair his skin without a single scar.
And oh, the pain. The pain of seeing his Headmaster look away from the situation he forcibly put him in, the pain of seeing Voldemort’s delighted face, the pain of the mark.
Death would be a kinder punishment.
‘
Voldemort had apparated them away from the wedding venue, but not after placing a wedding collar around his neck. It was elegant and thin and almost looked like a necklace. If it weren’t Voldemort who’d placed it on him he would be able to appreciate its beauty. For now, he got nauseous just looking at it.
They’d arrived at Voldemort’s manor which was a lot humbler than he had imagined. Sure, it was just about ten times the size of the Dursley’s house but it lacked white peacocks and servants standing outside of the manor greeting them at the door. Harry almost smiled thinking about Draco’s boasting of his ancestral home, until he looked down and saw the Dark Mark that now decorated his arm.
After standing outside of the manor just looking around the Alpha offered his arm to Harry and with a gesture asked “Shall we?”
Harry deigned to ignore the outstretched arm and walked right past it, Voldemort's eyes grew dangerously dark and he whisked Harry right back to his side, holding his arm so tight that it’ll be sure to bruise come tomorrow.
“Come.” He said and briskly walked inside with Harry still in his death grip.
The Alpha had proudly showed him around the manor, speaking of this or that and showing just about 10 rooms that in Harry’s mind had the same purpose as the previous. “And this, my dear, will be our room.”
It had never crossed Harry’s mind that his detainee would want to share a room with him, to some extent he understood his wifely duties but this specific thought wasn’t among them. He felt chills down to his core, and stared at his husband in horror.
Voldemort had let go of his arm some time ago but now he was offering it to him again and this time he was smart enough to take it. Say whatever you want about Harry, but he was always quick to adapt to survive. He showed both of them over to a little seating area near a bay window, the interior of the room tastefully decorated showing off his wealth but not showing it in your face, bright blues and whites painted the room in a soft light.
Voldemort was staring at him intensely from beside him, hard as he may to try to ignore it was hard to ignore anything about the man. With his scent that took up the whole room and made it hard to breathe and easily towering over most men… he was too much.
“That dress really does look ravishing on you, doesn’t it?” Voldemort started, his eyes darkening the more he spoke “How lucky aren’t I to attain the greatest prize of them all, the most beautiful Omega in all of Britain.”
He smiled but didn’t say anything, having had trouble speaking ever since he heard of his destiny.
But what would it matter even if he did speak, for who would even listen to him?