fic: harry potter, craaaack with voldemort, pg.
Somebody put crack in my morning tea, I swear. Um.
evil bedfellows
fandom: harry potter
rating: pg
pairing: voldemort/peter ..kind of
warnings: it's CRACK and ..fluffy.
disclaimer: Rowling owns.
word count: ~750
notes: Um. Yeah. Dedicated to my slithery friends? Heh.
Peter knows the Dark Lord has cold feet.
Literally, however. He knows this because due to the pure practicality of the arrangement, he and Voldemort share a bed.
This, Peter has noticed, has brought strange tones to their once so simple Dark Lord-follower relationship. Sometimes, when the Dark Lord is not within the range required to read his mind, Peter thinks fondly of Voldemort. It's almost as if they were married, he considers.
In bed, his Lord is no longer an evil overlord, but rather just a bloke trying to steal the covers.
“My Lord,” Peter says for the third time that evening, setting down his book “Darker Than Most - an Illustrated Guide to Being Evil” by Edgar Winston. This time Peter is getting annoyed.
The Dark Lord curses in Parseltongue and Nagini moves in the corner of the room. Peter looks at the snake and frowns.
“Don't bring her into this again,” he groans, frustrated and pulls at the blanket.
Voldemort hisses but gives up, moving an inch or two closer to Peter so they can both stay under the blanket. The nights can be chilly this time of the year.
The Dark Lord doesn't have nightmares or get hungry in the middle of the night but what he does get is cold. Could be the whole having-been-brought-back-from-the-dead-thing, Peter figures, but is mainly just worried. No amount of hotwater bottles or charms seem to help.
“I suppose we have no other options left, my Lord,” Peter says one night as they're preparing to go to bed after a busy day of convincing a fair amount of cave trolls to be on their side during the upcoming war.
Voldemort scrunches what is left of his nose and lets out a disapproving snort.
“Body heat,” Peter says and is very afraid of the Dark Lord's response, so he continues, “Yes, that's right. We'll just have to cuddle.”
Judging by the look on Voldemort's face, he really shouldn't have used that phrase. Peter knows the Dark Lord wouldn't kill him, though. He may just have to do something humiliating for this, or something dangerous, like flossing Nagini's teeth. He shivers at the thought of it but braces himself. This is just the Dark Lord. Just his good old friend Voldemort. Who's killed more people than fit on seventeen Quidditch stadiums. Yeah.
“I'm not happy with this arrangement, Wormtail,” the Dark Lord says as he walks to the bed. “I'm not comfortable with my disciples touching me. And when I do desire to be touched, I'd rather it be a female.”
“I considered that, yes, my Lord, but even if we got Bellatrix here, you wouldn't like it with her.” Peter looks at Voldemort under his brow. “Remember how she drooled on you that time? And did those movements with her hips against your leg..?”
Voldemort cringes. It doesn't look pretty.
“Basically, my Lord, she's a fangirl,” Peter continues, “and you can't sleep with a fangirl.”
The Dark Lord nods. “You are correct, Wormtail. Bellatrix just won't do.” He then mutters a complex-sounding spell and then looks at Peter. “Just to ensure you don't breathe a word about this in the future to anyone. Even me.”
Peter nods.
They get in bed. It's very weird and awkward but they both grind their teeth and bear it. In his head, Peter sings an old Death Eater chant, just in case Dark Lord tries to invade his mind. He can't be caught liking the situation. Ever.
Peter guesses he's supposed to put his arms around Voldemort but he's not really sure what to do. He never understood cuddling. Or the difference between cuddling and snuggling. And then there's spooning, of course, that one's a complete mystery to him. He hopes he's not spooning the Dark Lord right now. That would make him feel rather perverted.
“Warm now?” he asks, thinks of it as the most polite thing to do in the situation and Voldemort grunts an affirmative answer.
“Good,” Peter then says and ignores the fact Voldemort still feels cool against his pyjamas.
“Maybe I should,” he starts, but the Dark Lord interrupts him with a firm 'No'. Peter shuts up and tries to sleep.
Hours later, when he still hasn't fallen asleep, he feels Voldemort back further against him, the Dark Lord now soundly asleep. Peter can't help but smile.
Evil has never been so cute.
***
WTF SELF. WTF.
*watches the masses defriend me*
evil bedfellows
fandom: harry potter
rating: pg
pairing: voldemort/peter ..kind of
warnings: it's CRACK and ..fluffy.
disclaimer: Rowling owns.
word count: ~750
notes: Um. Yeah. Dedicated to my slithery friends? Heh.
Peter knows the Dark Lord has cold feet.
Literally, however. He knows this because due to the pure practicality of the arrangement, he and Voldemort share a bed.
This, Peter has noticed, has brought strange tones to their once so simple Dark Lord-follower relationship. Sometimes, when the Dark Lord is not within the range required to read his mind, Peter thinks fondly of Voldemort. It's almost as if they were married, he considers.
In bed, his Lord is no longer an evil overlord, but rather just a bloke trying to steal the covers.
“My Lord,” Peter says for the third time that evening, setting down his book “Darker Than Most - an Illustrated Guide to Being Evil” by Edgar Winston. This time Peter is getting annoyed.
The Dark Lord curses in Parseltongue and Nagini moves in the corner of the room. Peter looks at the snake and frowns.
“Don't bring her into this again,” he groans, frustrated and pulls at the blanket.
Voldemort hisses but gives up, moving an inch or two closer to Peter so they can both stay under the blanket. The nights can be chilly this time of the year.
The Dark Lord doesn't have nightmares or get hungry in the middle of the night but what he does get is cold. Could be the whole having-been-brought-back-from-the-dead-thing, Peter figures, but is mainly just worried. No amount of hotwater bottles or charms seem to help.
“I suppose we have no other options left, my Lord,” Peter says one night as they're preparing to go to bed after a busy day of convincing a fair amount of cave trolls to be on their side during the upcoming war.
Voldemort scrunches what is left of his nose and lets out a disapproving snort.
“Body heat,” Peter says and is very afraid of the Dark Lord's response, so he continues, “Yes, that's right. We'll just have to cuddle.”
Judging by the look on Voldemort's face, he really shouldn't have used that phrase. Peter knows the Dark Lord wouldn't kill him, though. He may just have to do something humiliating for this, or something dangerous, like flossing Nagini's teeth. He shivers at the thought of it but braces himself. This is just the Dark Lord. Just his good old friend Voldemort. Who's killed more people than fit on seventeen Quidditch stadiums. Yeah.
“I'm not happy with this arrangement, Wormtail,” the Dark Lord says as he walks to the bed. “I'm not comfortable with my disciples touching me. And when I do desire to be touched, I'd rather it be a female.”
“I considered that, yes, my Lord, but even if we got Bellatrix here, you wouldn't like it with her.” Peter looks at Voldemort under his brow. “Remember how she drooled on you that time? And did those movements with her hips against your leg..?”
Voldemort cringes. It doesn't look pretty.
“Basically, my Lord, she's a fangirl,” Peter continues, “and you can't sleep with a fangirl.”
The Dark Lord nods. “You are correct, Wormtail. Bellatrix just won't do.” He then mutters a complex-sounding spell and then looks at Peter. “Just to ensure you don't breathe a word about this in the future to anyone. Even me.”
Peter nods.
They get in bed. It's very weird and awkward but they both grind their teeth and bear it. In his head, Peter sings an old Death Eater chant, just in case Dark Lord tries to invade his mind. He can't be caught liking the situation. Ever.
Peter guesses he's supposed to put his arms around Voldemort but he's not really sure what to do. He never understood cuddling. Or the difference between cuddling and snuggling. And then there's spooning, of course, that one's a complete mystery to him. He hopes he's not spooning the Dark Lord right now. That would make him feel rather perverted.
“Warm now?” he asks, thinks of it as the most polite thing to do in the situation and Voldemort grunts an affirmative answer.
“Good,” Peter then says and ignores the fact Voldemort still feels cool against his pyjamas.
“Maybe I should,” he starts, but the Dark Lord interrupts him with a firm 'No'. Peter shuts up and tries to sleep.
Hours later, when he still hasn't fallen asleep, he feels Voldemort back further against him, the Dark Lord now soundly asleep. Peter can't help but smile.
Evil has never been so cute.
***
WTF SELF. WTF.
*watches the masses defriend me*