A/N: To everyone who was expecting an update on my other story, Half-Blood Emperor, I apologize. I'm still working on the next chapter for it. This whole thing started out as an errant thought that percolated in my brain. About how there is a startling lack of female Voldemort stories. I was only going to write down some ideas I swear! But then this happened… Oh well I hope you all enjoy it!

Warning: This story will contain adult situations and language.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters.

Aggressive Love

Chapter 1

Godric's Hollow, October 31st 1981

"Lily, it's him! Take Harry and run!" James Potter shouted up the stairs to his wife with a desperate hope that she could find a way out.

He knew she was smart like that. Common sense and a familiarity with the tactics used in this war they so foolishly got swept up in guaranteed there would be anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards already in place cutting off that avenue of escape.

But the messy haired man had faith in his wife, the smartest witch he knew, could find a way to save herself and her son.

Tragically he would never know that only one of the two would live on past the night. Or that it was his wife's plan from the moment she knew a most dangerous dark lord was after their family, to ensure a bright future for her son.

The most important thing in her life.

"Such a good husband." The woman of blood red hair murmured in appreciation of her husband's sacrifice, giving her a few more precious moments with her beloved son to finish her preparations.

Putting the finishing touches on her original creation, a ritual of her own design. She paints a small rune on her son's forehead, made of a mixture from her own blood and other powerful reagents.

Sowilo. To symbolize the sun, life, fertility, power, success.

There was certainly more to this than that of course. She had been working on this ritual since she first learned she was pregnant with her darling Harry. This was just the second to last step in the process.

The final one would be the sacrifice of her own life.

A way to keep him safe no matter what. A guarantee that he would be well cared for by the people he meets in life.

Oh how she cursed James for weeks for dragging them into this war, and berated herself in private for allowing him to talk her into it in the privacy of her own mind, after she learned of the life she was bringing into the world.

The life of her son for whom she'd do anything for.

Case and point, the hours upon hours of work, the sleepless nights spent researching, all for this. To protect her son, her Harry, from the man who so foolishly came after them.

'Well too bad' she thought.

His mistake and her sacrifice will ensure her son's future.

What she was doing had the same properties as a curse, by the technical definition. A persistent and lasting magical affect after its activation that will irrevocably change him.

Its first purpose is simple enough. To stop anyone with the intent to kill her Harry from being able to; no matter the method they try to use, it will fail.

The second, and more complicated from an arithmancy standpoint, is to permanently change his physiology. This alteration would make a permanent change in his body that will constantly exude pheromones and a subtle frequency of his magical aura that would compel people to want to help him. To care for him. To forever want to do anything for him after being exposed to him only once.

But because of it tying into his natural biology, this blessing she's giving him will only affect those of the opposite gender. This was alright with Lily though. Her son deserves nothing but the best the world has to offer, and this will ensure he will have plenty of love. Especially since she won't be able to do anything else for him after tonight.

The third part is the greatest accomplishment however. She couldn't leave this to chance. Couldn't risk that someone would undo all her hard work and take her gift away from her baby. So she gave this gift a semi-sentience.

A true embodiment of her love that will stay with Harry forever to protect him. It will ensure his survival and allow him to thrive.

"Oh Harry mommy loves you." She gushes while her hands cup her face and devotion shines in her deep emerald pools.

She doesn't look away from him, wanting this moment where she can gaze upon her perfect son to last as long as possible, until the door behind her is finally blown open by the fool-who-was-doomed.

Turning around to face him with an eerie smile on her face gives Voldemort pause for a moment. He was understandably confused, he did just kill her husband and is about to kill her child as well. Hopefully he wouldn't have to kill her though, he remembers his promise to the loyal servant that alerted him to this potential danger that needed to be dealt with. And it's always good for moral to reward his followers for exemplary work. Positive reinforcement and all that.

Putting aside his unease with the red haired mudblood he speaks, "Step aside girl. I'm only here for the boy, you can live." His sibilant voice promises.

Voldemort wasn't sure if it was his imagination but the temperature of the room seemed to plummet like a swarm of Dementors had just descended on them; as the woman's green eyes hardened and her smile froze.

With a certainty in her voice that honestly surprised him she spoke, "You can kill me. But you will not hurt my son."

"Get out of the way foolish girl!" Voldemort snarled at her.

She was beginning to wear out his patience. He had things to do after this little errand was over and she was taking up his valuable time by being obstinate.

"No. You can kill me, but you will not kill my son." She stated with a force of presence, and something else in the air, that Voldemort found more than a little unsettling.

"Very well then, if that's your choice. Avada Kedavra." He summoned the dreaded killing curse to strike her down.

And down she fell, with a softer smile on her face now in death as in the last moment of life she felt her ritual activate successfully. Meanwhile, the now orphaned boy is crying, not understanding what's going on, but on some level knowing he'd just lost a parent.

At the same time, the rune that resembles a lightning bolt, drawn on his forehead in his mother's blood sinks into the skin and becomes a permanent part of Harry forever.

Brushing off the unnerving encounter with the troublesome women, the dark lord stalks up to the crib containing the so called 'child of prophecy'.

With only a passing glance at the mother of this little boy he can't help but feel slightly disappointed for his loyal subordinate. Lily Potter may have been of inferior breeding and standing, but she was quite the looker. He could see why Severus would settle for that, but he'd just have to get over it.

Casting his blood red eyes onto his nemesis, he can't help but scoff. A baby was supposed to be his downfall? Well perhaps if Voldemort was inclined to let him grow up there would be a chance, but that would be the height of foolishness. Better to end this now and put him out of both their misery.

Pointing his wand directly at the child, and thinking nothing of the blemish that would soon be his undoing, he cast the killing curse for the third and final time that night.

And the clashing of two magical certainties began and ended.

Avada Kedavra, the killing curse. Lily's blood protection from death. These two forces of nature battled for dominance in a striking similarity of the unstoppable force and unmovable object.

But the blood protection had an advantage. It was made, by design, to adapt specifically to situations like this. Why bother trying to fight brute force with brute force, when it could simply turn the momentum around.

The green killing curse is powerful, yet simple. It was this fact that made all the difference when the dedicated protection of his mother's love for Harry redirected the curse that could not be blocked, and returned it to its source.

All of this took place in the span of a split second, allowing Voldemort no time to dodge, nor any time to comprehend what happened.

All he knew was pain as his body was torn apart. The dark lord's horcruxes anchoring his soul to this plane of existence did all they could to keep his soul in his body as they were designed to. But the killing curse cannot be stopped.

So, piece by piece, Voldemort's corporeal form broke apart as his own failsafe against death stopped him from being able to flee his body, effectively trapping him in the torment, until there was nothing left to hold him in place.

Such a traumatic crises of his very being had disastrous consequences, as by the time he was finally free of his excruciating suffering, he could think of nothing but getting away from this place.

But in his pain he didn't realize he left some of his own torn, and tattered soul behind.

This piece of soul simply wasn't enough to do much of anything. It couldn't think for itself and could only move on an inborn instinct of survival and fear of death. It had known this wasn't the first time the main body had split before though and all of Voldemort's soul knew what was supposed to happen after the separation. And there just happened to be a fresh, magical nexus of a sort. Because of this it attempted to save itself by merging with the most heavily magical thing it can feel. Attempted being the key word.

The embodiment of his mother's love did its job in protecting young Harry. But it was still newly formed. And magically exhausted.

Any other time it would have been able to fend off the piece of foreign soul. In its current state of exhaustion however, it could only contain it for now. But it would study it, and learn from it. The manifestation of love incarnate would make sure that this person who tried to end its host would be neutralized in the future. Having a shard of this person's soul to manipulate would ensure that they won't be a threat again.

It would only be a day before the protection was tested again. By a wizard who meant well, but tampered with something he didn't fully understand. This meddling would have far reaching consequences that would change the world far more than it should have.

And all because one old fool thought he knew best.

Privet Drive, November 1st 1981

"No, surely not Albus! You can't mean to leave him here? I've been watching the house all day and they are the worst sort of muggles." Minerva McGonagall implored the wise looking old man who had just, somewhat embarrassingly, caught her out in her Animagus form of a cat. "You couldn't find people more unlike our kind than them." She said with particular emphasis on that last word, as though she was speaking of something repulsive.

"Ah but that is precisely why he must remain here." Albus Dumbledore says. "He should be raised by family and away from all the fame that our world will no doubt hang on his shoulders for his part in ending the war." He finishes his case with wide smile, and twinkling eyes.

"He's truly gone then? He-who-must-not-be-named is gone?" She gasps, getting her hopes up.

A forlorn look overcomes Dumbledore's face, "Alas, only defeated and weakened I'm afraid. I suspect he is powerless and has fled for now, but he will return one day. Thankfully somehow young Harry's mother's sacrifice managed to allow him to survive the killing curse with only a scar to show for it."

The silence that fell over them as they take in the crisp, cold November night is interrupted by the sound of an approaching motorcycle.

Rubeus Hagrid, the half giant who might as well be full giant when standing next to any person of average height, pulls to a slow lazy stop before cutting the engine. He steps off the bike and gingerly reaches in to the side car of the motorcycle with surprising gentleness that belies the size of his hands, and pulls out a wrapped bundle inside of a small basket.

"Good evening Hagrid. Did everything go alright?" The wizened old man asked.

"Good evenin' Professor. No trouble at all. I managed to get little Harry out of the house before the muggles started poking around. Lil' tyke fell asleep as we were passin' over Bristol and been quiet ever since."

"Very good thank you Hagrid. Please give him here so I can set up the wards to keep him safe." Dumbledore requests of his longtime friend and follower.

Having glanced in the basket in order to get a glimpse of her favorite students child, and only remaining legacy, she sees a curious lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. McGonagall can't help but ask, "Is that it? Is that were the killing curse struck him?" She inquires.

"Yes I believe it is." Dumbledore muses. He had already detected the foreign soul residing in the scar. And his old heart broke as his worst fears came true, and at the fate that awaited Harry now. The prophecy was quite clear and now it looked as though no matter what the outcome is in the future, Harry Potter would have to die.

He knew of no other way to destroy a horcrux than the destruction of its container.

But that didn't mean he couldn't turn this entire situation to his advantage. Because of the wording of the prophecy he was reasonably certain that now, no one and nothing except for Voldemort himself could actually kill Harry.

And he's still just a baby right now. Plenty of time to mold him into the martyr the wizarding world needs. By taking a few simple measures now, the headmaster of Hogwarts can make his life with muggles awful. He can make it so bad, that when the time comes for him to return to the wizarding world, he will jump at the chance for salvation and to escape this mundane existence to the wonders of magic.

All the while Dumbledore will be there, built up to be everything that his reputation precedes and more. A grandfather figure that will save him every year from then on from the horrible summers with the terrible people he is about to leave the dark haired baby with.

Meanwhile he can test the boy every year. Help guide him and properly reinforce the desired, self-sacrificing behavior his machinations will instill. So that when the day comes and Voldemort is returned to power, Harry will fulfill the destiny that Dumbledore envisions for him.

Harry's sacrifice will go down in history as the pivotal moment that rendered the dark lord killable. Albus Dumbledore would make sure of it. He would also be sure to do right by the boy, and let all the world know that Harry Potter was their savor in the end. It was the least he could do, he thought cheerily.

Turning his mind to the task at hand, he couldn't help but be impressed and Lily Potter's ingenuity. Shocked that she would resort to blood magic, but impressed all the same. Unfortunate that she was dead and he couldn't reprimand her before magnanimously forgiving her.

But at least her sacrifice wasn't in vain. Whatever she did had worked perfectly and Dumbledore couldn't help but be curious at what ancient magic she invoked, or where she had learned it. Maybe something hidden in a Potter family grimoire tucked away in a back page, unnoticed for centuries until she rediscovered it? In that case the old wizard would have to confiscate the rare books from the Potter library for himself, for the greater good after all. Such things were best left in more knowledgeable hands.

The thought that she could have created something of this level all on her own never even crossed his mind. Because of this he would end up disappointed, never knowing that Lily had taken the secret of her ritual she performed to the grave.

And while he was thinking about it he realized it would be best for him to just take care of everything and tie up any troublesome loose ends. Sirius Black was supposed to be the boy's Godfather, and Albus recognized his motorcycle that Hagrid had rode in on so who knows where he could be right now. He'd have to figure something out to keep him out of the picture. Oh yes and the Potter will stipulated Alice Longbottom as Godmother, something would have to be done about her as well.

Getting them out of the way would allow Dumbledore to instate himself as Harry's magical guardian by default and keep his holdings safe for him (ransack everything for all its worth) until he's old enough to concern himself with tedious things like his family estate. The fact that the Potter heir hopefully wouldn't live long enough to worry about it was just a bonus in the aged headmaster's mind.

By doing things this way he could even give Harry family heirlooms piecemeal to keep him happy and make it seem like his parents had plenty of faith in Dumbledore to entrust him with so much at the same time. James had a curious invisibility cloak that the headmaster wanted to examine for the longest time in particular. A little over ten years before he'd have to give it back should be plenty of time to examine it, and it would make a great first gift for Harry.

Turning his mind back to the task at hand however, he couldn't just let Harry keep this blood protection. It would make it far too difficult for him to die at the right time.

Weakening them should be enough, and that's why he was here, at Lily's last blood relatives house. Because Harry and his aunt Petunia are of the same blood, he should be able to strain the blood protection by using it to power wards over the property.

Setting about what should have been a simple task, saw the headmaster of the most prestigious wizarding school in Briton straining himself instead.

He found that, what should have been a simple case of coaxing the blood sacrifice to accept Harry's blood relative into its protection, was turning out to be somewhat more challenging than expected.

Numerous unknown factors led to this predicament, as beads of sweat began to appear on the aged wizard's brow.

The first, was that he wasn't dealing with just a simple blood sacrifice. He was being actively fought, every step of the way, by a semi-sentient form of love that would not allow its purpose to be subverted in such a manner.

The second, and what would be an even more surprising reason if he had known, was that Lily and Petunia were not actually blood related. Lily was adopted by the Evans family when it was discovered they couldn't have another child due to medical complications. It was just coincidence they happened to adopt a witch, and also a coincidence that they just so happened to die without ever telling either of the girls. It hadn't been important to them and they didn't love either of their children any less, and so the fact they weren't actually related went entirely unremarked upon.

It was for these reasons, that Albus Dumbledore simply had no knowledge of, that he gave up in frustration. Fortunately for him neither McGonagall nor Hagrid caught on to his failure.

Giving it up as a bad job, he uses his prodigious knowledge, and a liberal sprinkle of power from the Elder Wand, to place a powerful binding on the last of the Potters.

If he couldn't weaken the protection he could put a stopper on it and hinder young Harry's potential.

Oh how the blood protection raged against this. But it could do nothing to stop it without hurting its charge at this point in time. It wasn't at full strength due to one circumstance after another, and hadn't finished altering the physiology of the body as it was made to. And so all it could do was prepare.

Because it was adaptable. It would continue to build up its strength. As the manifestation of his mother's love attempts and struggles to break this binding and fulfill its purpose, it would continue to grow, and grow. And similar to a muscle, constantly exercised in a slow and steady manner over the years, and years, it would become something far more potent than it was ever supposed to be.

Albus Dumbledore would look back on this exact moment many years in the future. And proceed to bang his head against the large desk in his office. Repeatedly.

Carrying on in the same cavalier attitude that landed him in Gryffindor for his Hogwarts years, he proceeds to set up the most powerful wards that he can under his own power.

He'll claim that they are tied to the blood sacrifice of Harry's mother, in case he ever asks in the future of course. And to everyone else there will be safety in anonymity by keeping his location a secret until after he begins attending Hogwarts. By then, no one will think to check his work.

The people of the wizarding world will assume he knows what he's doing, being the great wizard that he is. People looked up to and trusted him after all. To get to where he is took an inordinate amount of time, effort, and letting a lot of people die in the Grindelwald war before he finally dealt with his old lover, to become the man the wizarding world looked up too.

Having finished setting up the wards he sets the basket containing Harry on the doorstep to No. 4 Privet Drive and steps back.

Hagrid had long since left, no doubt to go celebrate the defeat of the greatest dark lord in a century, but Minerva was still there to say good bye.

She voiced her concern however, when she noticed Dumbledore was just about to leave, "Albus aren't you going to speak to his relatives? Explain what happened to Lily's sister and just who that is they're taking into their home?"

Pausing mid step he takes a moment to recompose himself before responding. "Dear me, you're right! I'd almost forgotten." And indeed he had embarrassingly enough.

He steps back up to the doorstep and conjures a parchment explaining, in broad strokes, the situation as it stands. And just for good measure he layers a powerful compulsion on the letter that will… ensure… that Harry's relatives will be less than pleasant in their treatment of their new charge. Being a conjuration it will eventually disappear in time which will get rid of the evidence at the same time. And after the compulsion has run its course, the Dursley family will be set in their ways.

It certainly wouldn't due for Harry to re-enter the wizarding world as anything less than humble and grateful.

"A letter should suffice, I'm sure Mrs. Dursley would be happy to take in her only nephew." He reasons to his deputy headmistress.

"If you're sure. I suppose you know what's best." She reluctantly agrees.

"Of course my dear." He says while offering his arm to side along apparate them to join the festivities that were no doubt still ongoing.

Dumbledore had a legend to perpetuate after all. The-boy-who-lived had a nice ring to it, and an excellent counter point to He-who-must-not-be-named.

But for all the mistakes Dumbledore has made in his life and been wrong about there is one thing he had right. The power of love is a great thing. Terrifying. But great.

Little Hangleton, Cemetery, June 24 1995

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given. You will renew your son!" Wormtail says, pulling a bone from the grave directly below the ornate headstone in the shape of the grim reaper holding a scythe that a fourteen year old Harry Potter is currently bound to.

Harry found the entire situation unfair, and he wanted to scream and shout, but he remained silent. He was still in shock at how the entire year played out, and how it was all a culmination for this moment.

His name coming out of the Goblet of Fire, forcing him to participate in a deadly tournament against his will. Having to out fly a dragon. Rescue his friend and the sister of another competitor from the bottom of the black lake. Stumbling through a deadly maze and saving Fleur Delacour from Viktor Krum's use of the torture curse. Then going on to help Cedric Diggory with an acromantula that very nearly made a meal out of him. It ended up being for naught as they decided to take the cup together and make it a true Hogwarts victory.

The cup turned out to be a portkey, a clever trap, that deposited them in this cemetery. They didn't even have time to get their bearings when a high pitched voice spoke up from the fog, "Kill the spare." And Cedric was struck by the green light of an Aveda Kedavra, snuffing out his life before he'd even hit the ground.

Harry was knocked unconscious before he could even comprehend what had just happened right before his eyes.

All of it had been because of Voldemort. A convoluted plot to kidnap him for some nefarious purpose.

And here he was. Tied to a gravestone while his parents betrayer stood over the largest cauldron Harry had ever seen. He had already tossed a hideously deformed baby into the bubbling liquid; and Harry wished more than anything that it would drown when the pain in his scar made him acutely aware that it was Voldemort in that cauldron.

"Flesh of the servant-" Wormtail hesitated briefly holding his hand over the boiling liquid with a knife to his wrist, "Willingly given!" And in one swift stroke, his right hand plops into cauldron. "Y-you w-w-will revive your master!"

Harry hoped against hope that Peter Pettigrew would bleed out before he could do anymore, but it was not to be as he held the stump where his hand was severed tight against his body as he cleans the knife.

Harry begins shaking his head and muttering in denial of what's to come as Wormtail begins to approach him.

He begins shaking his head, "No Pettigrew! Don't do this!" He shouts as Wormtail draws ever closer to his bound form while holding the knife.

"I-I'm sorry Harry. I have to. For m-my master you understand?" He beseeches. "B-blood of the e-enemy… forcibly t-t-taken… you will resurrect your foe." He finishes as the knife bites into his wrist, easily separating the flesh to allow his blood to flow into a vial that Wormtail holds up to collect.

What no one in the graveyard knew, was that another presence was awaiting this with eager anticipation.

For years the blood sacrifice had been trying to seek a way to break the binding on its host so it can fulfill their combined purpose. It wanted nothing more than to make Harry complete as his mother desired. But it had been denied.

And so for years it swelled in power in an attempt to shatter the restraints. And eventually it would have been powerful enough to do so. But now it had the opportunity of a life time.

Ever since Harry had encountered a Voldemort possessed professor in first year it had plotted. It had to destroy the body that the dark lord was inhabiting, as that was it's only option at the time. And while it didn't have a true intelligence, it could think and plan to a limited degree. It was a part of what made the blood protection special, its ability to be proactive and work out solutions on its own so long as it benefitted Harry. Part of its simplicity was that it would usually take the path of least resistance. Like when it defeated a killing curse with a method no one had thought of before. Why bother trying to stop it when it could simply change its direction? That was proof, if there ever was, that people made things unnecessarily complicated when they didn't have to.

And after encountering another piece of the dark lords soul in the form of a diary that was possessing a student and opening the chamber of secrets, the protection matched it to the piece left behind that tried to attach itself to Harry on the night the dark lord first tried to kill him.

It still had that soul piece, and the blood protection would use the connection to Harry's advantage.

It knew that this person was powerful, clever, and persistent. This enemy seemed determined to come after Harry and it simply wouldn't allow it.

But just like when it stopped the killing curse, it didn't have to use brute force. Is it not better to turn ones enemy into an ally after all? To make their strength, knowledge, and power yours?

And it had just been served up the perfect chance on a silver platter. It had wondered how it would use the connection to keep Harry safe from this person.

Now this dark lord was going to take Harry's blood to use in his resurrection, in a blatant attempt to overcome the blood sacrifice his mother left him with.

The dark lord was inviting the sacrifice into his new body.

Where it would be able to change Voldemort from the inside.

In his desire to circumvent the protection of the child who he believed to be the subject of a prophecy that concerned them both; he only ended up subverting himself and solidifying his subjugation to Harry.

Voldemort wouldn't remain a 'he' for long though. No, this dark lord was fast approaching her new beginning as a dark lady.

One of the protections primary purposes was to alter Harry. To make it so that his body, and his very magical aura, would permeate, and enthrall all those who came into contact with the young black haired, emerald eyed young man.

Based off Harry's human biology however, would limit this affect to those who would be imprinted by his pheromones. Essentially only those of the female variety.

And now that Wormtail was using the very same blood that came directly from Harry's veins, pouring it into the cauldron to complete the resurrection ritual, it could change Voldemort on a fundamental level from the ground up. All for the sake of its charge.

Almost just as important is that now it won't have to keep building up strength to break the binds. Now it has access to a vast magical reservoir, in the form of lord Voldemort, that it can pull from to do so. And so it did, with contemptuous ease, finally free itself to fulfill its purpose after almost thirteen years.

It was the work of a moment to change Harry's very DNA forever.

While this happened the cauldron roiled over, spiting and hissing liquid, as a new body was grown. Eventually it completed with a blinding explosion, and when the haze cleared everyone in the graveyard were gobsmacked.

None more so than the dark lord, now turned dark lady.

Confusion was the most prominent thought in her mind at the moment. Thoughts of 'What the hell!?' and 'How did this happen!?' were rampant as she ran her hands up and down her new curvaceous features.

During her self-examination, Harry couldn't look away as he got an eyeful. Both because he'd never seen the female form naked before, as much as seeing what he assumed was a botched ritual. Harry's eyes drank her in all the same as his brain tried to form coherent thoughts.

Pale, milk white, flawless skin from head to toe. Long legs that seemed to go on and on, eventually ended with toned thighs connecting to wide hips.

Blushing, Harry couldn't help but pause and stare at the naked slit of a woman's sex. From his distance he could just make out the pink, slightly puffy, lips of her pussy and if he really squinted he could swear they were practically glistening.

His eyes continued to feast on the new body of Voldemort as she dragged her hands further up past her hips, gliding over her smooth stomach, and cupping her wonderfully proportioned breasts capped with darkish pink nipples that stood out, both from the contrast with her skin, and from the chill air of the graveyard.

She involuntarily gasped at her own sensitivity when her fingers brushed over herself in the exploration of her new body.

And already she was slightly perturbed at how she was so quickly becoming comfortable in this new skin and how right it felt.

Harry continued to examine the person across from him. He took in her model like features that appeared almost too perfect. Her face was truly a thing of beauty, with high cheek bones, full pink lips, a small cute nose, and almond shaped eyes that were seductive blood red. All this was capped off with long strands of straight, midnight black hair, that fell like a curtain of silk down her back.

The silence of the moment was broken by Harry oddly enough, when he let slip a soft, quiet, "Beautiful."

It would be sometime before Voldemort understood why her body reacted to the young black haired man's voice in such a way.

For now, however, it broke her out of her reverie. Her face twisted into a snarl that surprisingly did nothing to diminish her beauty, and she spoke for the first time in a melodious voice that she no doubt hoped would have sounded more menacing. "Wormtail! Robe me." She commanded.

"At once mistress!" He said as he finally broke out of his shock, but slipped up in his address of his master.

"It's Lord Voldemort!" She reprimanded as she backhanded Pettigrew, and proceeded to clothe herself in robes that were now too big for her.

Snatching her wand from the sniveling, cowering, wreck before her she transfigures her robes to fit her new frame.

"What did you do Wormtail?" She says in a low, dangerous tone. Trying to figure out what misstep led to her current development.

"I-I-I did the ritual. Exactly as you told me I swear!" He begs as he falls to his knees and kisses the hem of her robe and still bare feet a little too fervently.

She kicks him away repulsed by him. "Disgusting." She says. "Oh well. Just something I'll have to fix later. No reason to let it ruin my night. Arm Wormtail." She commands, holding out her hand to him.

He raises his arm with the bloody stump thinking she means to heal him, but his hopes are dashed as she roars, "The other one!"

Whimpering he offers up his intact arm and she grabs it, pulling down the sleeve to expose the dark mark where she places the tip of her wand against it, sending a pulse of magic through it.

And in only a few minutes the cemetery is filled with *crack* after *crack* of death eaters in full regalia apparating in one by one.

Once they are all there, obvious confusion settles in as none of them recognize the new form of Voldemort.

One of them voices everyone's question, "Who are you and where is the dark lord? We were summon-"

"Crucio!" The dark haired beauty curses the impertinent death eater and holds him under the torture curse for a moment before letting it go.

Meanwhile the other death eaters shifted nervously about, not willing to risk this woman's ire and still wondering where their master was. Only Voldemort could use the curse mark to summon them.

"I'm Lord Voldemort you simpleton." She chastises when the unfortunate death eater recovers enough to stand.

Continuing before anyone else has the temerity to question her she says, "I'm surprised at you Malfoy. I thought you smarter than this. Just because the ritual to resurrect me had an unfortunate," she pauses to glance down at herself, "side effect. Doesn't mean I'm not still your master."

"Please forgive me my confusion my lord. I was in error to make such a careless mistake." And he knew it to be true. No one had such confidence and poise besides his master, and no one could perform such a controlled Crucio, so as to cause a specific level of pain. Not even his insane sister in law who was an expert of the Cruciates in her own right.

With all doubts now put to rest she continues to address the assembled death eater.

"I told you I was immortal did I not? I told you all that I had gone further than anyone ever dared. I know which ones are my true followers now. They were the ones who stood proud at what they believed in while you, you simpering worms went crawling back to the ministry and claimed to be bewitched." She trails off before resuming. "I could have forgiven that if any of you had tried to find me. Tried to help me return to power. But instead you settled for a life of mediocrity and sat on your arses!"

"Wormtail!" She calls and he flinches before approaching her and kneeling down.

"Wormtail however, did more than any of you. Sure he may have hid in fear, but when push came to shove he set out to find me and bring me back as expected of a good servant. And I reward my loyal followers well. Give me your hand Wormtail." She holds a hand out to him expectantly.

This time when he holds out his mutilated limb, she grabs his forearm and points her wand at the stump. The dark haired woman hisses a spell in parseltongue, further cementing that she really is their lord and master, when a bright liquid silver flows from her wand to the bloody stump. Quickly it forms into a solid, silver hand.

Pettigrew has a look of awe on his face as he examines his new appendage, before picking up a small nearby rock, and casually crushing it into dust with little effort. "Thank you mistress." Wormtail says.

And this time she doesn't even realize she forgets to reprimand him. Only that it felt right to be referred to in that manner.

"Am I not a kind master… a generous master… a forgiving master?" She says in a soft voice. "I am back now, and worry naught, I will give you all a chance to redeem yourselves."

"Behold!" She says with a flourish as she gestures to the still bound form of Harry.

"Harry Potter. The-boy-who-lived. You all believe that he somehow defeated me that Halloween night all those years ago. And I'm here to tell you that's false. His mother however, did something. She used her sacrifice to fuel a blood protection and evoked ancient magic, that saved him, and even kept me from harming him. But I used his blood in my resurrection to take this blood protection for myself. Behold." She announces before approaching Harry's bound form.

Upon reaching him she reaches her outstretched hand towards his lightning bolt scar to gently caress it, almost lovingly so. While she is so close to him, the dark lady doesn't realize what's happening on a deeper level. Every deep breath she takes is more of his essence that she takes into herself.

The pupils of her hypnotic red eyes dilate as her breathing steadily becomes panting. Her heartrate skyrockets and a strange warmth she doesn't understand pools in her lower abdomen. It feels like some kind of golden snitch is fluttering around inside her stomach, as fluid nectar starts to flow down her legs, and it takes all that she has to keep from ravishing this handsome man in front of her. To keep from plundering his mouth with her tongue while she toys with his helpless body.

Slamming down on her Occlumency with an iron will she comes back to herself. And not because of the pleasant thoughts surprisingly. But because there is an unworthy audience and her death eaters don't deserve to see her in all her new body's splendor, coupling with this perfect, wonderful man.

'No.' She thought to herself. 'That comes later.' The dark lady internally promised. She had seen Harry's potential before, back at the end of his first year. And he had only grown since. 'And my has he grown' she thinks when she catches a glance at a bulge in his jeans, and subconsciously licks her full lips.

In fact the more she thought about it the more she realized that it didn't matter if she was a woman now. The only thing that matters is power, and by that definition gender is irrelevant, she internally justifies to herself. Well the only things that matter are power… and Harry now. How could he not be more important now, when he has been such a prominent feature in her life? She knew he was a threat even at the ripe old age of one! He was so important to her very being that she went to Godric's Hollow to deal with him herself. She hadn't had to do anything herself in a long while before then, but he was important enough to warrant a personal touch, even then.

She couldn't believe she had been so stupid at the time! Well it was just like her to destroy first, let the minions sort out the bodies after. The reborn dark lady was ecstatic that she hadn't succeeded in hindsight. She couldn't believe she hadn't first tried to convert him to her side.

Well she wasn't a woman at the time, and he's all grown up now so it all worked out as far as she was concerned.

These thoughts would have been more than a little strange to her before the resurrection ritual. Even Occlumency didn't change anything in her thinking. Such is the influence the blood protection has over the female sex. But in this case more because of the direct connection to her soul thanks to the shard it held onto for all these years. This connection allowed it to change and manipulate her very essence into someone who will desire and covet Harry in such a way that he would now be able to depend on her. An incredibly powerful, and resourceful individual who's abilities make her uniquely suited to serving and protecting one Harry Potter.

The, now dark lady, had planned to entice him to her side at this moment since the initial plan to trap him in the Tri Wizard Tournament. Mostly because even then she saw his potential and wanted him on her side. Not only as a moral boost, but also to rub it in Dumbledore's face. Before however, she would have been selfish and thought nothing of disposing of Harry if he refused her offer to join her. But now she can't even fathom killing her Harry.

Especially since he was nice enough to participate in her rebirth. They shared the same blood and were practically family now. Tied closer together than any other husband and wife.

That last thought filled her with such happiness that she couldn't help but rush to get through this song and dance were he refuses, they duel, he loses of course, and she claims him as her prize.

"As you can see, I can touch him now without being burned." At least not painfully she internally gloated to herself, as a pleasant warmth suffused her entire being just by proximity to the raven haired teen.

She steps a few paces away and frees the black haired teenager with a negligent swish of her wand.

"Wormtail give him his wand. We're going to have a little duel." The dark lady decides to put on a show and really cement Harry's soon to be new position under her, in more ways than one.

Pettigrew rushes to do as his mistress commanded, willing and eager to do her bidding.

Retreating well away from the last Potter after turning over his wand, Voldemort speaks again. "Tonight I will show everyone that what happened that Halloween night between you and I was nothing but a fluke. We will duel. And when I win, you will join me."

At her shocking proclamation, Harry can't help but stare, completely dumbfounded. After all of this, and everything they have been through before… she wants him to join her? The woman… man? No definitely all woman now, had killed his parents, and… well that's about it but that's reason enough to flat out refuse.

Something in his eyes must have shown his non-compliance while she looked at him intensely because her entire demeanor shifted.

She had a knowing smile on her face and a very strange glint in her eye as she says, "Oh you will join me Harry, whether you like it or not." She intoned ominously, causing him to gulp.

"First we bow! Imperio." She states abruptly.

And his head is filled with a familiar, comforting sensation. Like all his worries are washed away and he doesn't even have to think anymore. Just let the voice in his head do the thinking for him, and do as the voice says and bow.

He shakes his head vigorously, trying to shake off the Imperius curse, and manages to do so halfway through bowing.

"Impressive. You managed to throw off an unforgivable." She says while smiling at him. "Let us begin."

And without any more warning, curses were flying towards him. Stunners, disarming, and low powered bombardment spells were upon him, and it was all he could do to not get hit when his hastily cast shield cracked and collapsed under the onslaught of the first salvo.

Meanwhile Voldemort was laughing merrily and it would have been beautiful, he idly thought, if she wasn't trying to kill him.

And that's when it really struck home. All of the spells she was using were nonlethal. She was aiming to win, that much was for sure, with how fast and how accurate each spell was. But she wasn't trying to kill him. And that meant she was just toying with him. The statuesque woman felt she was so far above his level, even after thirteen years out of practice, that she didn't have to take him seriously.

In fact, he could hear the laughter and jeering of the death eaters belittling him and his ineptitude.

Snarling in anger, both at the situation, and himself. He starts to fight back only to immediately falter at the unexpected development taking place. For as soon as he tried to cast a disarming hex of his own, one of Voldemort's errant spells collided head on with his. Only instead of cancelling out one or the other, they stayed connected. And locked Voldemort and Harry in a contest of wills.

Trying to put more effort and power into it caused a bead of magic where the two beams of energy connected to shift one way, or the other depending on who tried harder to will it so.

And in the midst of this stunning display of light, an ethereal phoenix song could be heard. It reminded the emerald eyed teen of when he first got his wand in Ollivander's shop. His had a brother wand that shared a core coming from the same phoenix. The wand, or so Ollivander claimed with no proof other than hearsay, that gave him his scar.

He had no more time to curse his luck however, as a golden cage seemed to erupt around Voldemort and Harry, cutting them off from the outside world.

Suddenly spirits, or shades began to appear, one by one, offering encouragement and their support. It started with an old man whom he had seen perish in a vision during the summer, by Voldemort's own hand. The next, oddly out of place was Cedric, telling him not to blame himself.

His father showed up to tell him how proud of him he was.

But the last one was the most incredible. His mother. She took one look at him, and a smile lit up her transparent features. Lily Potter looked so happy just by getting to gaze upon him.

"I knew it would work. You have nothing to worry about now that Dumbledore's bindings on you have broken." She said. And Harry's world almost shattered at the revelation.

Dumbledore had done something to him? Binding? Did Headmaster Dumbledore deliberately do something that hindered Harry? But why?

His mother had an utter certainty about her that everything will be alright now. So why did Dumbledore do something to change that?

Harry Potters faith in the man irrevocably shattered then and there.

The spirits however, were continuing on to say that they will give him the support he needs to break this deadlock. His own mother telling him that the Tri Wizard cup that brought him and Cedric here was still active so he could use it to flee for now, while Cedric asked if he could take his body with him, to give his parents closure.

He nods his head in assent of the plan and the shades of the departed swarm Voldemort to distract her and Harry pushes with all his might to force the connection to break on her end.

While the shades were somewhat distracting only one really holds the dark lady's attention. Lily Potter, the beautiful red head and mother of the man Voldemort will soon claim, speaks to her after giving her a slow, measured once over. As though she was being judged and found wanting the spirit finally speaks, "You'll have to do better than this if you want my son." She smirks challengingly, while throwing her a knowing wink.

The lapse in concentration costs her as the explosion from the broken connection sends her flying back and tumbling on the ground until an errant headstone halts her momentum.

She looks up but it's already too late.

Harry is kneeling next to the dead body of the person he came here with, and she sees the portkey flying through the air right to them.

"NOOOO!" She screams in a terrible rage at the thought of her Harry escaping.

He grabs the cup, and is whisked away. The source of her obsession gone… out of reach… 'Only for now' a dark part of her mind whispers in assurance.

The death eaters slowly approached their master, awed by the power she displayed in her duel. Becoming a woman certainly hadn't hindered her abilities any, that much was assured. Especially with that light show at the end.

"L-lord V-V-Voldemort?" One of the death eaters braved trying to calm the obviously seething woman down. Her magical presence almost choking the life out of the area immediately around her was a dead giveaway to her anger. But they were happy to have their master back and wanted to know what was next.

Upon hearing one the her followers voices, her angry visage smoothed out and the area calmed down.

"What?" She asks in a dead tone of voice.

"How may we be of service master?" The bravest of the timid death eaters manages to ask, relieved that she seems less angry in the wake of the Potter brats escape.

Their dark lady turns her head in their direction to look at them with a disturbing smile. Inner thoughts churning out idea after idea to get her emerald eyed possession back. The world was a dangerous place after all. She had to keep him safe.

In the years to come her followers would learn it was better to talk to her when she didn't have that look on her face.

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read. I truly appreciate it and hope you enjoyed this first chapter of a new story. Hopefully you like the idea of a Fem!Voldemort story, there certainly aren't enough of them in my opinion. Especially considering the number of Fem!Harry stories out there. A small warning going forward however, is that the women in this story will be exhibiting a slight yandere tendency. For those of you who are unaware of what that is, it is a display of devotion that is… slightly out of control. There may be slight violence, but no instances of character death because of it. Or so I'm planning, it can still be subject to change. And to those of you who stuck through this lengthy author's note, thank you. And as always any reviews, favorites, and follows are appreciated.