It was Christmas Eve day and Harry had been in Voldemort's 'clutches' for twelve days. In truth he supposed it could have been worse, he was being wooed by his mortal enemy – which was down right squicky to the teen – and Voldy was doing his darndest to convince Harry that William was a bloodthirsty animal that was just going to kill him the first time Harry pissed him off. And of course, didn't we all know that Harry Potter had an innate talent for pissing people off.
The young Gryffindor had gotten a good laugh out of that.
It was actually kind of creepy how charming the Dark Lord could be. Harry had been provided a comfy chaise to lounge on; this after the third day when he'd unexpectedly entered the 'narcoleptic' stage of the pregnancy and had nearly fallen out of his chair. He slept, ate and lived in the same bare stone room he'd arrived in, although Voldemort had kindly added a plush black rug that ran from the chaise to the door of the adjacent bathroom. There had been a fireplace that Harry had missed the first day there and it, combined with the liberal use of warming charms kept the teen from freezing his arse off.
So really, Harry was being treated better by the most evil Wizard alive than by his own relatives. However it was blindingly evident that Voldemort had no idea what it meant that Harry was a claimed Vampire mate, there was no choice involved anymore. Harry and William were mystically tied together, they were a part of each other; there could be no William without Harry and no Harry without William.
And Harry was beginning to feel the strain of being separated from his mate.
Everything was annoying him; everything was either too hot or too cold, too hard or too soft, too loud or too quiet. So far he'd managed to hold his temper and Voldemort had apparently chalked up his occasional snappishness to pregnancy hormones but it was becoming more and more difficult to keep quiet.
It didn't help that Voldemort was with him every waking moment, incessantly talking and cajoling and waxing poetic about ruling the world. Harry was contemplating taking the Dark Mark just to make the man SHUT UP!
William had best get his sexy arse here – wherever here was – and rescue him before midnight because there was no way in HELL he was spending his first married Christmas in this... this hole!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lord Voldemort stood over the sleeping Bearer seething. The boy was driving him to distraction and Potter wasn't actually doing anything; the brunette was being imminently polite – after that first day, anyway – and noncommittal. Of course it didn't help Voldemort's plans that every time Harry seemed ready to concede a point or agree with anything that was said, the pregnant boy would fall asleep.
It was maddening.
The first time it had happened the Dark Lord had been shocked, but after an examination by his own personal Medi-Wizard it was determined that the portkey had done no harm and Harry had simply entered the second-to-last phase of the pregnancy – the one where he nodded off at the drop of a hat and drove his gracious host barmy!
Voldemort paced in front of the chaise where the boy slept and considered his prey, ignoring the nervous shifting of the eight Death Eaters on guard in the room.
He couldn't just take the boy – a queer fact about Bearers was that they could not be impregnated by rape; no one really knew why, but still the fact remained that it would not get him what he wanted. Besides which rape wasn't exactly a healthy option for himself as Potter wasn't a weak Wizard by any stretch of the imagination.
Killing him wasn't an option either no matter how much part of him yearned to finish what he'd started fifteen years ago. Then, too, was the second obnoxious fact about Bearers in that they were notoriously difficult to actually kill. Even if he did manage to off the boy, every Witch and Wizard in his ranks would summarily abandon him.
Potter's person was almost sacred in the Wizarding world and Voldemort was already treading on shaky ground by taking him. If the majority of his Death Eaters hadn't been appalled by the boy's current consort then Voldemort would never have been able to get within casting distance of the Gryffindor.
So now the Dark Lord was reduced to cajolery and bribery, plying the boy with logic, compliments and fine food. He knew about Potter's abusive childhood and catered to the insecurities and unspoken wants every traumatized child hid from the world.
It would take time but he would have the powerful sprite that was Harry James Potter by his side and in his bed.
Potter would crack.
It would just take time.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angel was beginning to fear for the continued existence of the British/Scottish Demonic Community. While many of the demons they'd questioned had been, if not helpful, then at least outraged over the theft of a breeding mate, several had been down right antagonistic either because the mate was a human or because Spike was a vampire. These non-helpful individuals discovered new levels of pain as the blonde spread their insides all over whatever locale they happened to be at right before their death. A majority of demons looked down on Vampires but they did not cross them – and for good reason.
Spike had even met with the three Vampire Order Heads still living in the U.K. – he'd had to shred a few fledges to get their attention but once he had a veritable flood of information had become available.
A vampire mating was a sacred union to a race that held very little important and a union capable of producing a true child of both body and blood... it must be blessed by the Blood God, itself.
The local Order Heads had even gone so far as to contact Heads on the continent who were, even now, sending their Childer and minions to fight.
William the Bloody now had at his disposal the largest vampiric army to be assembled in the last thousand years.
Angel had never been so proud. Spike was in reality his grandchilde, Angel's own insane childe Drusilla gifting the shorter man with the bite, but Angel had been the one to raise him, love him, and now watch him come into his power. Spike had loved Drusilla desperately, she was his Dark Princess, his Wicked Plum, but Angel had always been 'Sire' and a diminutive little Wizard had filled the cavern left in the blonde's heart since Drusilla had abandoned him.
The blonde had been eloquent in their meetings with the vampires and vicious enough to allay the suspicions caused by his soul. The Heads had felt Spike's power and followed his lead. If the vampire wished it, Angel thought it quite possible for Spike to rule this world's blood-drinking population, especially with Harry at his side.
But that was a thought for another day. Their allies had begun sniffing out the Death Eaters; Voldemort's mark left a potent stain on a person's scent, easily identifiable by a demon who knew what to look for. Marked Witches and Wizards were being collected in droves. Several of their captives had been in hiding from their former Lord since his return. All had been questioned and finally one had been found who knew Harry's whereabouts.
It was time for the Dark Lord to die.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks to Willow and Giles they used a Wiccan ritual to bypass Voldemort's wards and teleport in, or 'apparate' as the Wizards insisted on calling it. Snape came along, partly to help Harry but mostly to be able to say 'I told you so' when the spell didn't work.
The Potions Master didn't get his chance to gloat, however, as the spell did work and he, along with Spike, Angel, Willow, Buffy, Dumbledore and the Head of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones suddenly found themselves in a round stone chamber facing a startled Dark Lord, a sleeping Bearer and surrounded by Death Eaters.
They'd timed their arrival to coincide with the storming of the castle by their vampiric allies and the muffled 'boom' somewhere above them announced they were right on time.
One of the Death Eaters waved his wand revealing a stairwell that three of the Dark Wizards ran to wile the rest attacked.
Spike, however, only had eyes for Voldemort.
Harry jerked awake with a sharp gasp. Pain lanced through his body but as he instinctively wrapped his arms around his stomach he realized it wasn't his pain.
Hearing spells being shouted Harry looked up and found himself in a pink-tinged war zone. Everywhere were Death Eaters and vampires, fighting, all kept a good distance away from him by his daughter's shield. He thought he saw Buffy but another blonde shock of hair caught his attention. Spike stumbled away from a triumphant looking Voldemort and Harry saw his mate clutching at the wooden chair leg piercing his stomach and out the other side, high on Spike's back.
Harry was on his feet in an instant, his bulk not hindering him in the least.
The shield around him had turned red but Harry didn't give it much thought.
Vampires and Death Eaters alike fell back, plastering themselves against the walls of the room as Harry approached his prey.
Voldemort straightened and slowly turned.
Harry was gratified to see the Dark Bastard's eyes widen and a tell-tale wet spot form on the front of his robes.
"Die you son-of-a-bitch!"