Title: The 'L' Word
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Voldemort/Harry
Word Count: 790
Author's Notes: This is a very short ficlet, just slightly too big to be a drabble. *grin* This is dedicated to and blamed entirely on [insanejournal.com profile] furor_scribiend, who inspired me to write a new V/H and gave me the most perfect prompt to do so.

In case anyone is interested, here is a line that is cute but could just not be fitted into the fic:
Well. Potter was his husband. Voldemort was vaguely certain there was some unwritten Code out there dictating that spouses were allowed to do such things.
. . .but maybe it serves as a good description of the fic.

The hexes flew at him as if they were arrows shot from a bow, each one coming faster than the next. He'd been blocking them for two hours now---and he couldn't help but notice that the curses had slowly turned from light ones to the darkest from the blackest books. Didn't the brat ever get tired? And who the hell let Potter look at those books?

Voldemort stopped trying to retaliate after the first half hour passed. He didn't see much point, considering the shield of raw magic wrapped around Harry like a cocoon. He simply wished it to end. This was not how he'd envisioned spending the night.

"Look," Voldemort hollered---and who was this boy to reduce him to hollering?---above the noise of fizzling curses and unnatural winds. "I didn't mean to be busy all night, Potter. Harry. . . .dear?" His attempt to explain seemed to go unheard. And who the hell was this. . .this. . .Gryffindor to ignore him?

"What was I supposed to do? Tell my minions they can't go on the biggest raid of the year because I have a dinner date? Tell those helpless muggles and gibbering fools of Order members that, what the hell, they can get off scotch free because you want me home before the chicken gets cold?" Voldemort scowled. The more he thought about it the more irritated he became.

"I ended it early, you know. I had Big Plans for tonight. But, oh no, Potter, you just have to throw a snit and ruin what remained of our an---"

He didn't even notice the wind die down.

"What plans exactly?" A voice demanded from behind the overturned desk Voldemort was using as a shield.

Decades later he still wouldn't admit he'd jumped at the voice. He peered over the desk, giving his best death glare. "It hardly matters now."

"Oh, it matters." Harry responded softly, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "It matters to me."

"I see." Voldemort stood up slowly, not even attempting to tower over Potter despite his advantage in height, and instead remaining over-so-slightly hunched toward the floor. "I am not much in the mood to shower you with aff---affec---attention."

Harry snorted. "Still can't even say the bloody word, can you? Affection, Tom." He added under his breath, "never mind ever trying to use the 'L' word."

Voldemort glowered. "I don't have to say. Nowhere in our vows did it say I have to say it."

"Fine." Harry turned away, walking to the window. "You miss our anniversary---all of it, you bastard---because your work is clearly more important and you can't even tell me you love me, you sli---"


"What?" Harry snarled.

"Look up, idiot." Voldemort glared.

"I won't be. . .what?" Confusion slowly replaced Harry's scowl.

"Why don't you just try it instead of always bloody questioning me?" Voldemort smirked. If Voldemort had been in Harry's head at that moment he probably would've realized smirking was a very bad idea right now.

But Harry looked up out of the window anyway, and stared. His mouth fell open after a moment. "Oh."

"Oh?" The smug tone in his voice might have been unwise if Harry had been paying any attention to him whatsoever.

"How long's that been there?" Harry asked eventually.

"Since nightfall."

Harry finally looked at him. "You might've said. Left a note, or something at least."

Voldemort snorted. "Left a note? I would've caught shit for that. It would have been, "Really, Tom, you call that romance?" and "So, what, you just decided to tell me, finally, without actually being around?" Besides, I told you I'd planned to be here."

Harry gave him a funny look before moving over to him. "You let me yell at you all night."

"Not to mention all of the curses." Voldemort pointed out. "I think the entire house needs to be reconstructed."

Harry paused and after a bit said, "You're not getting points or guilt for making me rail at you."

". . .brat."

Harry kissed him. "But you get points for that." He waved vaguely behind him. "C'mon. I think the chicken is still warm."

"It should be with all of the fire curses you were throwing around." Voldemort said. Harry made a failed attempt to elbow him.

As they wandered down to the kitchen, once again in marital peace, the stars continued to twinkle in the sky. If anyone cared to look they would have seen the most unusual sight; an rather interesting, new constellation proclaiming love to the one and only "brat-who-lived."

Harry, I lo---lo. . .dammit, Lucius, can this thing be paused?! Bloody fuc---Brat, I love you. Are you happy now?


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dreaming memories

What you can do with your life has little to do with what's going on in the world and everything to do with what you see as possible.

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