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Sweet Addiction

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Narrator's POV

Harry looked around the meadow he was trapped in, having just run into the wards and hurt his head, he was trapped.

He knew Voldemort was behind this but he didn't know why, why he was in a beautiful meadow with a large cottage, a small gentle stream, and a Qudditch Pitch and  the best broom on the market.

Harry sighed as he couldn't escape and went inside the cottage, wanting to drink some water so he got a glass and drank some, seeing the cupboards full of all the ingredients that made his favorite foods.

His favorite snacks were in their as well and the ice box was full of his favorite drinks and more ingredients.

So, he was being well fed and given plenty to do, so what was the catch?

While the sixteen year old thought, he explored the cottage, seeing that it held the kitchen, a small living room, a bathroom and a bedroom as well as one empty room.

In the center of the empty room was a letter that read:

“Dear Harry,
This cottage is yours for eternity. This room in particular will become whatever you desire. My only request if you is your continued happiness.”

The letter wasn't signed, but Harry recognized the handwriting as Tom Riddle's.

Harry groaned and imagined the room as a library and lied down on the couch wondering why all the bad things happened to him.

***

Lord Voldemort was frustrated, it had been a week since he put Harry into the warded cottage and he hadn't even gotten a drop of happiness, not an ounce of the pure joy.

What was he doing wrong? He had provided all the things he had seen that Harry enjoyed, from the Qudditch Pitch all the way down to the Treacle Tarts.

What he didn't understand that Harry was not only lonely but that captivity didn't make Harry happy at all.

So, he decided that he was going to make a little visit to the cottage and find out for himself.

***

Harry was in the Qudditch Pitch, not on the amazing broom he'd been given but simply lying on the grass, looking at the sky on boredom.

When he heard the pop of apparation, he looked up hoping he was being rescued but wasn't surprised when he saw Voldemort walking towards him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, looking back at the sky

"Why aren't you happy?" Voldemort asked, ignoring what the teen asked

"Why are you so concerned with my happiness last thing I knew you wanted to kill me." Harry asked, asking the question that had been burning in his head

"Yes, I did. But it seems we are extremely connected and whenever you are extremely happy I get the same rush of emotion you do." Voldemort answered

"So that's why I see when you're angry." Harry muttered

"So why aren't you happy when I have given you everything you like?" Voldemort repeated, his foot tapping impatiently

"I'm lonely." Harry replied, "That 'everything' you gave me I enjoy doing with my friends."

Voldemort rolled his eyes, that was idiotic, that's what was keeping him from that sweet rush of happiness, "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah, you fucking kidnapped me!" Harry yelled, "That's not making me happy at all."

***

A month later, Harry was still miserable, the only clothes he had were skirts, blouses and dresses with a few pairs of booty shorts.

And, to make it worse, Voldemort had visited everyday to 'combat the loneliness without actually letting him see anyone'.

But, at least Hedwig had been brought to him, he wasn't sure how, but Voldemort had brought her left to stay on one visit.

So, Harry was lying on his bed and stroked her feathers, he was depressed and lonely but at least he had her.

The should-be Sixth Year groaned when he heard the familiar pop of apparation.

He didn't bother to get up and made Voldemort come to him if he wanted to see him.

Harry sighed as Voldemort walked in, watching the ceiling.

The Dark Lord was frustrated, he still hadn't felt any of that addictive happiness.

He started to think, Harry was a teenager, one full of hormones, would a relationship make him happy?

He started to think of all suitable matches but jealously decided that Harry was his and would be in every way.

***

Two years later, Harry giggled as he leaned was being cuddled in bed, his hubby of three months tickling him.

"Tom, stop!" Harry laughed, wiggling around

Tom didn't, kissing his gently, "Why?"

Harry had no reply, giggling as his most ticklish spot was tickled.

Eventually, his husband stopped and kissed the baby bump on Harry's small belly.

Everything was perfect, Harry was very happy all the time, and so was the Dark Lord, he had conquered England and had his husband all to himself where no one could find or see him as well as an heir on the way.