Chapter Text
Night shone through the grand window, moonlight casting an ethereal glow on similarly colored skin. It reflected off the mirror in which an aristocratic man was inspecting his body as if he’d never truly seen it before. In a way that was exactly the case.
Lord Voldemort looked at his reflection, taking in the thick coils of deep red runes that decorated his new form like a serpent’s embrace. He wasn’t sure why he’d never thought of this before, but having several convenient arrays ready for use at any time would sure prove profitable somewhere in the future. With these in place he wouldn't need to rely on his wand as heavily as he had until now. The runes enabled him to cast most common and dark spells without a wand and without the decrease in strength wandless magic was prone to suffer from.
The runes however, were not the only reason he was paying so much attention to his appearance.
Voldemort knew he would never look normal, but at least he didn’t stand out like a sore thumb anymore. He was still unhealthy pale and his eyes still red, but now he had a nose, and normal lips, and hair as thick and dark as he remembered it from his time at Hogwarts. His skin actually looked quite pleasant if you disregarded the color, and he’d lost the emaciated look.
It had taken a lot of effort to regain an acceptable resemblance to his teenage self, but he believed it to be a good investment. People would be looking for a man resembling a snake, not someone who could pass for a handsome vampire. It made his movements less traceable.
To be honest it had pained him a bit to part from his previous look, as it had been a testament to his dedication to his goals. But being reborn meant erasing old features, and Lord Voldemort had never shied away from change, especially if it was for the better.
It wasn't as if his appearance was the only thing he planned to change.
It was foolish really. Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. Yes, but what if one wasn’t surviving? He had researched young Harry quite thoroughly and thus knew that ‘surviving’ was actually an apt description. Both at home and at Hogwarts, always in danger, always struggling either against a present threat or the memories of a past one. And as Voldemort had proven himself, ‘to die’ did not necessarily meant staying dead.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord.
Which never said anything about a permanent vanquishing. As far as he was concerned, that part had been proven that disastrous Halloween. And never was it mentioned that power would be used again.
As luck would have it, Voldemort knew a way to ensure it never wouldbe.
A small vial stood on the bedside table, glowing eerily in the darkness. Pink normally wouldn’t look this foreboding, but knowing what it was meant to do, looking foreboding was perfectly appropriate. It was a delightful way for Lord Voldemort to neutralize his enemy.
~X~
Harry twiddled his quill, listlessly staring at the homework before him.
Cedric was dead.
Harry had seen him die.
Who could care about homework?
Heaving a sigh he let his head thunk upon his desk. Harry knew he had to finish it sooner or later, but he just couldn't muster the energy.
Might have something to do with the sleepless nights. Nightmares weren't what you'd call restful.
He glanced at his calendar. 30th of July.
He looked at his clock. It read 11:52 pm. Eight minutes left till midnight.
Harry didn't feel any enthusiasm for the proximity of his birthday. For a moment the considered just going to sleep. He knew the owls would wait for a convenient moment to deliver the mail; that is, assuming his friends had had the decency to sent something more than apologetic letters for his birthday.
… No, better not. Harry really didn't want to risk his uncle going on a rampage should the neighbors happen to notice the birds in the morning. Best just to let them in now.
Yawning, Harry rose from his desk and opened the window, the only thing not rickety in the entire room, with the exception of the door. It opened with only a tiny squeak, not nearly enough to wake the Dursleys.
Another look at the clock. Almost time. Harry prepared a few dishes of water and dug up the owl treats.
In the distance the church bells rang twelve. Harry turned just in time to watch several owls land on his bed, each carrying a package.
Despite everything, Harry smiled a little, especially when he spotted Hedwig with several packages. He gently stroked her snowy head. “Welcome back, girl,” Harry murmured.
And then he frowned, an icy feeling rising in his gut.
There was one owl too many.
Harry narrowed his eyes. He believed he recognized every owl in front of him. One was Errol, an other was Pigwidgeon, and he was pretty sure he recognized the majestic eagle owl as one of the public owls from Hogwarts.
The only one he didn't recognize was a nondescript barn owl with a letter and a medium-sized package tied to its legs.
Harry frowned. Who could have sent it?
Just to be on the safe side he put on his dragon-hide gloves before reaching for the letter. Harry had learned his lesson from Hermione's hate-mail after Skeeter's horrid article.
He paused, for a moment considering simply sending the owl straight to Dumbledore. But no, he didn't want to look like a paranoid idiot if it turned out to be from someone he should have remembered.
He perked up. Hey, maybe it was from Lupin. Lupin had been a friend of his father after all, so maybe his year he'd sent something! Fifteen might be an important magical number in the Wizarding World, so... maybe?
… Yeah, no. Who was he kidding? He laughed derisively at himself. He had to be really desperate to think a man he'd only known as a professor would send something.
Hope springs eternal.
Scowling, Harry shoved his disappointed feelings aside and leaned out of the window, arms outstretched as he opened the letter in case it spilled something hazardous.
It opened like any other letter.
Shaking his head at his own paranoia Harry relaxed, yelping as he almost let go of the piece of parchment.
Slowly he unfolded the letter, eyes skimming over the words. The last traces of tension left him. Harry almost laughed at himself, but refrained for the sake of not waking his family. So much hassle when it was just Hermione being too practical for her own good!
Smiling, he took off his gloves and started to read.
Dear Harry,
First of all: Happy Birthday! I hope the owl arrived on time. As I'm going to stay somewhere else for most of the summer and couldn't be sure I would be able to mail you, so I decided to send your present beforehand. The man at the Post Office in Diagon Alley assured me delayed mail was no problem, but I couldn't help but be concerned.
Please let me know if it worked? By now you should have figured out whether or not we can send owls to each other....
Hermione
PS. There's a stasis charm on the box that will break once it is no longer replenished. It only lasts a few hours, so take care to eat the most perishable snack soon. I hope you like it!
Curious, Harry opened the box. On top of several packs of sugar-free snacks sat a white box with 'me first!' written on top.
Harry raised the lid and blinked in surprise. It contained a small cake with lots of whipped cream and strawberries. Happy birthday, Harry! was scrawled over the top with chocolate. He ran a finger through the cream and stuck it in his mouth. It tasted perfect, at if it had just been made. Far better than the stuff the Dursleys deigned to allow him.
Idly Harry wondered how the pastry was still in one piece after the flight. Definitely some sort of spell. He made a mental note to ask. That should be a question she could safely answer over the mail.
Carefully placing the box on his desk he relieved the other owls from their loads. For a moment Harry reached for the next letter, but then he decided against it. He was a bit hungry and the cream had been very good. He knew pastries like those, having watched the Dursleys consume them by the dozen. Cream always tended to sag after a while, so they were best eaten as soon as possible.
The other presents could wait.
~X~
Harry didn't know what hit him. One moment he was simply enjoying his birthday cake, the next he couldn't tell up from down from the sudden maelstrom of emotions crashing through him. Most prominent was a yearning, no, a burning desire for someone he couldn't quite remember.
He shivered, running a hand over his face. What was happening? He wanted- He wanted... Gods, he didn't know, but he was almost desperate for it.
A whisper of wind made him turn around. Another owl had arrived, this one small and almost midnight black. Harry blinked, absentmindedly thinking the miniature bird would be almost impossible to see at night. Would probably look like one of those tiny bats from the neighborhood that Aunt Petunia sometimes complained about...
Gracefully it landed on his desk and held out its leg.
For some reason Harry's hands shook as he untied the dark envelope it carried. There was just something about it that niggled in the back of his head...
Dear Mr. Potter, it read.
Recently it has come to my attention that you are someone I would dearly get to know better. You are a fascinating young man that does not deserve the way life has treated you and I wish I could offer you more than mere sympathetic words.
Unfortunately I cannot approach you myself, so though I know it is very abrupt, I would like to invite you to visit me at your convenience. All you have to do is put on the ring (see envelope), step outside any wards that might hamper a portkey, and say 'I now depart'. The portkey will bring you straight to my home.
I pray to see you soon.
Your sincerely,
V.
The niggling feeling was gone, washed away in a rush of joy. He didn't know how, but he knew this V. was the one he was yearning for. He wanted to meet him, to see him, to have a face to go with the mysterious initial. For a second, just one second, he froze, wondering where the hell the feeling came from, and why on earth he even considered going. He should contact Dumbledore-
Harry shook his head, doubts abruptly vanishing as if they'd never existed in the first place. Instead, he only felt elation and hope, and a startling intense fervor he couldn't explain even if his life depended on it. What on earth was he thinking? Here was a perfect chance to escape the Dursleys, to finally have someone who cared.
Eagerly he turned the envelope upside down, grinning when a silver ring landed in his hand. It was a simple, unadorned band of polished metal. Nothing special.
It made Harry happier than anything else ever had.
Putting it on he admired it for a short moment before racing to his trunk, throwing it open without a care about noise. The Dursleys snored too loudly anyway.
Cloak, cloak, where was his invisibility cloak? Harry haphazardly threw everything out of his trunk, franticly searching for the telltale gleam of silvery fabric.
There!
Triumphantly he pulled the cloak out of the mess, barely stopping to throw it on before rushing out of the door. Halfway down the stairs the paused and bit his lip.
Hastily he rushed back to his room, smiling at a perplexed looking Hedwig.
“Sorry girl, but I can't take you with me. Go to Hermione, she'll take care of you until I get back, okay?” Harry told her, gently petting the soft feathers on her head.
For a long moment she stared at him. He smiled back. She gave a soft hoot that sounded oddly concerned.
“Don't worry, Hedwig, I'll be fine. I'm just going to visit someone,” he soothed.
Finally she gave him a reluctant nod. Harry smiled brightly at her. “Thank you Hedwig. I'll see you soon.”
Then he turned, rushing down the stairs. With a grin he aimed his wand at the cupboard. Even now Uncle Vernon insisted on having his broom under lock and key. Harry almost laughed. Didn't his Uncle realize how little locks meant in the face of magic?
The idea he might get in trouble for underage magic never occurred to him. He just needed to meet V. as soon as possible.
Mere seconds later he was outside, cloak wrapped tightly around him. Wouldn't do for the neighbors to see him. Even in the backyard there was a chance they would if they looked out of their window.
Just to be safe, Harry quickly mounted his broom. He saw an owl soar past and grinned wider than ever.
Then he kicked off, wind rushing past him with dazzling speed. Somewhere down below he heard a man shout.
Hehe... Oops? Sounds like I was seen after all.
~X~
A few minutes and many, many miles later Harry landed with a thud on a grassy lawn, head still spinning from the portkey. Luckily his broom hadn't broken from the fall. He shook his head, trying to get the world to stand still. Maybe he should have considered the possible consequences of activating a portkey in mid-air before he did it.
When his vision had settled, Harry got up took an eager look around. He had arrived in front of a beautiful old mansion, the kind you expected to belong to an ancient noble family, or in a movie with some of those gentleman special agents who always got the hot girls. V. had to be very rich, to call such a magnificent building his home.
Oddly bereft of any form of hesitance, Harry dusted himself off and ran to the door, or rather, double doors, entirely forgetting about the broom and cloak left behind in the grass. It was not as if he was planning to use them anyway.
The door were at the top of a short but broad staircase and turned out to be impressively large and decorative, made from thick, dark wood and elegantly wrought iron, with grand leadlight windows made from frosted, colored glass in the top halves of the doors. For a moment Harry paused, before shrugging off the intimidating air of the building and knocking.
He barely had time to get nervous before one of the doors opened and an agitated-looking house elf beckoned him inside. Harry followed the small creature eagerly, gasping at the magnificent decor of V.'s home. V. was clearly very well off.
When, after several minutes of being guided through lavish halls, he and the elf finally arrived at their destination. In that time Harry's nerves had had more than enough time to develop, and nothing Harry tried stopped the shaking of his hands.
He swallowed harshly as the elf opened big drawing room doors, the creature bowing deeply before ushering him inside. In vain Harry tried to calm his racing heart, that for some reason had jumped into his throat and seemed perfectly content to stay there, making it impossible for Harry to thank the elf.
Wiping his clammy hands on his pants, he stepped inside. The doors closed silently behind him.
~X~
Dumbledore sat with his head in his hands, despair like a leaden ball in his stomach. It hadn't been too difficult to pierce the sequence of events together that had led to Harry's disappearance, and never had their mistakes been more glaringly obvious.
They should have protected Harry's friends better. Somewhere between the start of the holidays and Miss Granger's arrival at Grimmauld Place someone had cast the Imperius Curse over her, forcing her to prepare a birthday gift and an accompanying letter – both which had been found in Harry's room, carrying traces of rare, subtle compulsion charms – and afterwards erased the entire event from her memory.
They should have placed more protective wards around the Dursleys' home, ensuring that no dangerous magical objects or substances could be smuggled in with the post. Then no one would have been able to sent Harry a portkey, or a cake laced with a will-influencing potion. Severus had examined it and concluded there were similarities between the unknown potion and Amortentia; a revelation that had filled everyone with horror and dread.
They should have kept a closer watch on Harry, maybe even let him know he was being tailed so they could have been in the room with him. Maybe then they could have stopped the boy, kept him from falling for Voldemort's trap; and Dumbledore had no doubt it was Voldemort's, no one else would have adequate motives to forge such an ingenious, daring plan to lure Harry away.
They should have taken Harry's broom. Because they hadn't done that Harry had been able to get past the wards before his watcher – a role Mundungus had fulfilled that night – had been able to stop him.
They should have, they should have, they should have. Too many mistakes had been made. Too many regrets and things they should have done.
They hadn't, and now Harry was paying the price.
From his perch Fawkes cried his grief to the skies. Even the magnificent bird couldn't retrieve the Boy-Who-Lived from wherever Voldemort had hidden him. The Dark Lord had found a way to ward out phoenixes.
Lamenting his faults, a miserably despondent Dumbledore wondered whether they'd ever see the boy again.
~X~
Harry gasped when he finally laid eyes on his host. Pale, near white skin, like cream or fine porcelain. Dark hair falling in waves, framing an unbelievably handsome, aristocratic face. Eyes red as rubies, sending a shiver of unease down Harry's spine before they met his green ones and Harry forgot everything as he drowned in a sea of rich, blazing carmine.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
And then V. spoke. It was like music, only better. Soothing, and pleasant, and lighting a blaze of heat in Harry's stomach that made him shiver.
“Hello Harry.”
Harry couldn't answer, only stare as V. rose from his seat and smiled at him, coming to a stop right before him and reaching out with elegant hands to cradle his face. Absently, Harry realized he was probably blushing like mad, his body suddenly feeling fever warm. Electrifying heat radiated from where V.'s hands rested upon his face, crimson eyes studying him closely in a way that made Harry's insides squirm.
“H-hello,” Harry managed to croak past the lump in his throat. He fidgeted, wanting to reach out and touch V.'s face in return, but not sure how such an action would be received.
Then V. took his hand, pulling him towards the couch. Dazed, Harry let V. manhandle him in a seated position, eyes flying wide open when V. sat down next to him and pulled him close against his side, one hand resting inappropriately low on Harry's hip. The other hand turned Harry's face towards him, bringing him close enough for V. to rest his lips against Harry's ear.
“Do you know who I am, Harry?”
Harry shivered at the sensation of V.'s warm breath against his ear, the sultry tone sinking straight into his blood, making it rush southwards much to Harry's embarrassment.
“N-no...?”
Harry could feel V.'s smirk, and squeaked when something hot and wet traced the outer shell of his ear, followed by teeth nipping softly at his earlobe. He squirmed as V.'s hand slipped even lower, just beneath the waistband of his pants and uncomfortably close to the hard proof of the effect the man had on him.
“I am Lord Voldemort.”
Distantly, Harry was aware that the revelation should upset him. Even more distantly Harry was aware that it was really, really wrong that it didn't, especially because it meant that it was the murderer of his parents who was molesting him. For a moment fear and bewilderment fought to reach the forefront of his mind, but the sensation of lips sliding over his cheek distracted him and blew the interfering emotions away in a blaze of heat and guilty arousal.
“What, no reaction?” Voldemort murmured against Harry's skin, sounding inordinately pleased. “Don't you care, little Boy-Who-Lived? I've killed people precious to you and tortured you. Will you just let me do as I please?”
Harry shuddered in his grasp, breath hitching when Voldemort buried one hand in his hair and pulled his head back to expose his throat, the other hand sliding fully into his pants, gently touching the base of his sex before sliding to he back and lightly resting against his entrance. Harry moaned.
“Answer me, Harry,” Voldemort whispered in his ear.
“N-no.”
“No? You don't care?”
Harry whined, softly keening as Voldemort's finger pressed harder against his entrance and silken lips brushed against his, a slick tongue darting out to taste him.
“No,” the teen whispered.
Voldemort laughed, before brutally claiming Harry's mouth, sliding his too long tongue deep in into the teen's eager cavern, roughly plundering the sweet recesses. “Then submit and spread your legs, little pet.”
Harry trembled in his grasp, welcoming Voldemort's corrupting touch. He never noticed the glint of victory in the Dark Lord's red gaze.
He did notice when Voldemort forced him on his knees before him, placing Harry between his long legs and opening his pants to free his erect manhood. Harry's eyes widened in trepidation, but nonetheless allowed the Dark Lord to grab him by his hair and rub the leaking head of his hardness against his lips. Harry gasped, accidentally breathing in the musky scent, causing more heat to pool in his stomach.
Voldemort smirked and dragged Harry towards him, sliding his heated flesh into the teen's mouth.
“Suck,” he ordered.
Harry shivered, eyes glazed and lips trembling around the Dark Lord's manhood. Hesitantly, he obeyed, sucking and licking, shyly accepting the violation of his mouth for reasons he couldn't comprehend. Voldemort groaned, thrusting in and out, relishing in Harry's submissive obedience.
“Aren't you a good little pet,” he crooned, forcing Harry to take him deeper. “Already sucking my cock so eagerly, just begging to be abused.”
Harry moaned, knowing something was wrong with those words, but not in the slightest bit able to care. He looked up at cruel red eyes, mindlessly obeying Voldemort's directions, only weakly fighting his hold when the man pushed a bit too deep and threatened to make him choke.
Smirking, Voldemort plucked Harry's glasses off his nose, rendering the boy in his grasp half blind, only capable of discerning hazy shapes, forcing him to concentrate fully on the turgid flesh filling his mouth and the taste of his nemesis on his tongue. Involuntarily, Harry groaned, tongue and jaw starting to ache from the effort of bringing Voldemort to completion.
The Dark Lord let his head fall back, obviously affected by the sensation of Harry voicing his pleasure. Soon he commanded Harry to increase his efforts and Harry obeyed, arousal and embarrassment turning the teen's cheeks crimson from the lewd sounds he produced.
“Such a good pet,” Voldemort purred, before thrusting deep into Harry's mouth, almost making him gag. “Make sure to swallow everything.”
Harry did gag at the sudden explosion of viscous liquid in his mouth, a shudder running down his spine when he realized what he tasted was the Dark Lord's seed. Obeying Voldemort's command he swallowed thickly, trying to catch every drop. He didn't really succeed, instead making quite a mess of himself as the liquid splashed against his lips and face as he pulled back for air, dribbling down his chin and over his throat.
He shivered, panting from the exertion while Voldemort held his hair in a tight grasp.
“Clean yourself.”
Blinking, Harry tried to push past the haze in his head and think of a way to do so, absently licking his lips. Deciding on the easiest solution, he started wiping Voldemort's seed off his face, licking his hands clean to enjoy more of the slippery liquid. He barely noticed Voldemort's self-satisfied stare, only registering that the man was looking at him once he was done.
Harry blinked, unable to truly make out Voldemort's expression, but eagerly awaiting his next orders, squirming from his own unfulfilled desire.
“Come,” Voldemort commanded, rising from his seat after having brought his clothes back in order, and sweeping out of the room.
Harry followed on wobbly legs.
~X~
Voldemort was very pleased with himself, smiling as he heard the Boy-Who-Lived's unsteady gait behind him. Entering the bedroom he had the elves prepare in advance, he turned and waited for the boy to catch up.
Soon enough Harry did, stumbling into the room with wide eyes and arousal coloring his face. Voldemort was highly satisfied with the results of his potion.
“Do you want to please me, Harry?” he asked, just to be cruel. At the boy's almost frantic nod Voldemort smirked. “Then undress yourself and get on the bed.”
Harry blushed and his hands trembled from anxiety as he obeyed. Voldemort decided he liked the way the boy timidly lowered his gaze as he stripped himself.
The young wizard shivered at the loss of warmth when he let his clothes slide to the ground, timorously reveling in the feeling of those red eyes resting their heavy gaze upon him. He climbed on the bed, clearly noticing that the blankets were folded at the foot, leaving a lot of space for whatever activities the other wished to indulge in. The Dark Lord smirked at the resulting shiver.
Voldemort eyed the teen appreciatively, licking his lips at the sight of all that young flesh awaiting his touch. He glided over, his robes whispering around his bare feet. Gently he grabbed the boy’s chin, a soft caress all that was needed for Harry to give him unobstructed access to his body. He turned the face in his grasp from side to side, feigning thoughtfulness as his other hand trailed over a creamy inner thigh.
“Beautiful…” He whispered. “Although...-“ A wave with his hand and a thick black collar flew from one of the drawers. It was decorated with a silver ring that immediately brought a leash to mind, a visible proof of ownership. Harry smiled when Voldemort placed it around his throat, uncaring that the ends that fused upon meeting each other, making it impossible for him to take it off.
“There.” Voldemort smiled as he sat down and pulled the teen on his lap, running long fingers over smooth skin. Harry shivered when pale hands squeezed the globes of his ass and his archenemy stroked the sensitive ring of his entrance. A wandless spell elicited a gasp as slickness invaded his passage and Voldemort pushed one long digit deep inside. The boy whimpered in his grasp, squirming as the first finger was soon joined by two others, stretching and searching and heightening his arousal.
“Voldemort,-“ he moaned. The fingers within him stilled as Voldemort other hand grabbed his hair and roughly pulled his head back, exposing his throat.
“You will address me as Master, Harry. Am I clear?” Voldemort said calmly, letting an icy hint of threat leak into his voice.
“Y-yes, Master,” Harry gasped, blushing deep red from arousal and embarrassment in equal measures. Almost involuntarily, the teen rocked forward a little in an attempt to get some friction against his erect manhood. “Master, please…”
Voldemort eyed him thoughtfully, before removing his fingers from the boy’s insides, inwardly pleased at the whimper of protest.
With a few flicks of the Dark Lord's hand Harry was on his knees on the bed, wrists covered by soft, unyielding leather chained to the ceiling. The thin chain forced the teen to hang on his wrists as the chain was too short to actually sit. Another flick summoned several items, including two phallus-shaped objects.
One was a gag that rested almost uncomfortably close to the back of Harry’s throat, threatening to make him choke when Voldemort put it in place. A spark of wandless magic secured the gag behind the boy's head.
The other item was significantly longer, with ridges and bumps that made Harry feel every inch as his Master stretched him fare more than he was prepared for, pushing it deep into his clenching passage. Voldemort’s eyes devoured the sight, lust flickering in the red orbs as the boy visibly struggled to accept the toy inside. It wasn't as big as a real cock, but for the inexperienced boy it was almost more than he could bear to take.
Tilting his head, Voldemort slowly pulled the toy out, watching Harry sag as the pressure within receded, before cruelly slamming the toy phallus back in, incidentally hitting Harry's prostrate head on, drawing a truly delightful shriek out of the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry panted harshly around the gag, eyes wide and so dark with nervous anticipation it was almost fear. Voldemort lightly ran a finger over the boy's stretched lips, enjoying the way Harry squirmed and shifted, trying to get more of his touch while attempting to move the slightly too big toy from where it was pressing hard against his prostrate, sending wave upon wave of molten heat through the boy's body.
The Dark Lord relished in watching Harry shiver as he picked up the next item, a thin, flexible rod a little shorter than a hand, topped on one end with a round knob. Slowly Voldemort reached for Harry's erect flesh, grasping it gently yet firmly, making Harry let out a muffled moan. With sadistic delight the Dark Lord pressed the tip of the rod into Harry's slit, feeding the rod to the swollen organ and slowly filling the boy's shaft, using copious amounts of magic to ease the intrusion and keep it from harming the boy. Harry screamed and writhed, not able to stand the feeling of having such a sensitive organ invaded so intimately, sobbing at the pleasure the agonizingly slow increase of pressure inside his urethra wrought on him.
Finally the toy was in place, the knob pressed all the way against Harry's sensitive head. Harry was keening and whimpering around the gag, hanging limply from the ceiling, shaking from head to toe.
Voldemort smirked at the sight. He wasn't done yet.
Next was a black leather harness that fit snugly around Harry's form, broad bands looping across his tights and waist, running up over his chest to link to a pair of braces around his arms. Two bands crisscrossed over the boy's chest, straight over his nipples. Another band ran between the boy's legs, spreading his ass-cheeks a little and making it impossible for the plug filling his ass to slip out. A bead the size of a small walnut pressed against his perineum and snug pouches trapped both balls and cock in an intimate embrace of leather, pressing the rod just a bit deeper in Harry's already overly sensitive manhood. Every bit of leather was on the inside studded with beads that massaged every erogenous zone on the boy's body, just hard enough to make Harry squirm to escape the resulting sensations.
The Dark Lord took a step back to admire his handiwork. “There, pet, all set for the night.”
Voldemort smirked at the wide green eyes that suddenly looked so startled. A whispered activate caused the beads to start stimulating the boy's skin by massaging it to the point of blazing hypersensitivity, and the plug to vibrate and move back and forth inside the boy, creating a delicious stream of muffled screams and shrieks, making the sobbing boy mindlessly trash against his bonds in an attempt to escape the onslaught.
Almost as an afterthought Voldemort waved his hand, denying his new pet any chance at respite. Harry would not orgasm nor tire, only suffer hour upon hour until the pleasure itself became a form of torture, forever hovering on the edge of unbearable until the Dark Lord saw fit to release him. In the morning he wouldn't need magic to get Harry to agree to anything he wanted.
Voldemort turned and left Harry to the sexual torture.
~X~
Harry couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't see, drowning as he was in an ocean of crushing, ever encompassing pleasure.
The toys. Oh god, the toys.
Gag in his mouth, making his jaw ache and breath short and letting saliva leak past his lips and drip down his chin because it was just that bit too big. Spots danced before his eyes, the air he sucked in through his nose never seeming quite enough, the gag somehow an almost comforting weight on his tongue.
Beads pressing against all sensitive spots – like fingers, oh Merlin, like countless fingers pressing and pushing and rubbing and they just didn't stop – against his sides, on the inside of his thighs, over his nipples – and Harry had never believed those parts of him could feel both sore and ablaze, with electric sparks dancing across like lightning – and worst of all, between his legs. One pressing against an insane spot between his ass and balls that sent a wave of scalding pleasure crashing through him with every vibration, and countless smaller ones against his balls and cock, sending buzzing ripples down the rod that stuffed his manhood past what Harry had ever believed possible, driving him into a mindless frenzy.
The fake cock still stretched his insides, not letting up for even a moment, moving back and forth across that maddening spot inside and buzzing, and would have made him feel as if he was intensively massaged from the inside out if it hadn't also turned his bones into liquid lust.
And he still hadn't come.
By now Harry was just one big nerve, twitching and exposed and tingling in pure rapture, so far over the edge of desperation he couldn't even remember his own name.
Sense of self gone, consumed by the fires inside.
Harry would promise anything, do anything, to get release, even if it was his worst enemy offering it.
~X~
Voldemort regarded the scene before him, taking one long moment to etch it into his memory.
Harry, suspended and dripping sweat, limp in his bonds except for the shudders that wracked his slim frame, green eyes glazed and unseeing, and cock jutting out straight and begging; exactly the way Voldemort had intended when he left the boy the previous evening.
The Dark Lord couldn't suppress a shiver of anticipation, feeling himself harden in response.
Delicious.
Slowly he touched the boy's quivering stomach, delight lightening up his red eyes as Harry tried to jerk away with a whimpering moan.
Oh yes, the boy was ready.
Quickly the Dark Lord checked for traces of magic on the teen. The altered Amortentia had ceased working, its effects no longer necessary due to the almost incoherent state Harry was in, the only active piece of magic on the boy the toys and the endurance spells.
He would wait with removing those a little longer.
Within moments he had disconnected the cuffs on the boy's wrist from the chain, catching Harry with a levitation charm before he could topple.
Harry let out a low, drawn-out whine at the sudden change of position, squirming and twisting as Voldemort floated the boy through the halls to the room he had prepared.
Entering through the big double doors Voldemort placed his nemesis on a bed covered with white sheets and painstakingly drawn runic patterns. It was surrounded by a huge ritual circle, all ready and practically humming with the magic the Dark Lord would soon invoke.
With a flick of his wand another length of chain attached to the cuffs on Harry's wrists, locking them above the boy's head once more. This time Harry was on his back on the bed, legs stretched out before him and spread wantonly, writhing and moaning because Voldemort hadn't let the toys relent for even a second. The Dark Lord needed the Boy-Who-Lived as incoherent as possible without having to resort to magic that might interfere with the ritual, which included all magic except the most basic ones. Useless spells that would do nothing to make Harry succumb to his will.
“Soon, pet, soon,” he murmured, playing with the ring on Harry's collar.
Voldemort then petrified the boy. He couldn't allow his soon-to-be pet to move around while he made the last preparations.
With a vicious smile the Dark Lord placed the tip of his wand against the top of Harry's sternum, right in the middle of the manubrium, and cast a strong numbing spell on the area to ensure Harry wouldn't snap out of his daze. Slowly Voldemort burned the rune Tiwaz in the boy's skin, focusing his mind on the aspects of the rune he wanted to exploit so his intent would embed them deeply in the boy's mind.
Self-sacrifice.
Loyalty.
Faith.
A bit of his blood to coat the seared lines with his magical signature, binding the rune to him and him alone. Voldemort had worked hard to capture his prey and he refused to share his prize.
He leaned back to study his handiwork. And smiled. Perfect.
Without further fanfare he ended all spells on Harry, vanishing the strap between the boy's legs in one fluid move. Quickly he slipped a cock-ring over the boy's weeping manhood, aided by the slick pre-cum leaking liberally past the rod still lodged inside, and took care to check that the ring fitted snugly around the base of the swollen organ so the boy wouldn't come prematurely.
Voldemort flicked the knob of the rod, enjoying Harry's weak, muffled scream.
Spotting a spark of coherence in the boy's unfocused eyes the Dark Lord removed the gag, smirking when Harry's pleading noises suddenly became that much louder.
Harry swallowed hard, gaze fixated on the man he couldn't possibly see clearly without his glasses. Voldemort made a mental note to get the boy's eyes fixed later. Those vivid green eyes were far more beautiful without them. The boy's voice was hoarse and raw when he finally managed to speak. “Ma... ster... M-Master....”
“Hello, my pet,” Voldemort greeted pleasantly, somewhat curious to see how lucid Harry really was.
“P-please... please, Master... I-I can't....” The words trailed off in a sob.
The Dark Lord smirked. Lucid enough to speak, but not enough to wonder who he was pleading to. Absolutely perfect.
“Easy, pet, just a little longer,” he promised soothingly, grasping the knob of the rod. When he started to pull a hoarse scream was his reward. Voldemort slowed down to make the boy's torment last a little longer. The creeping extraction of the rod reduced the Boy-Who-Lived to a weeping, babbling mess, an endless string of pleas and cries falling from his trembling lips.
Seeing his nemesis reduced to this state was a huge turn-on for the Dark Lord, making his manhood stand proudly beneath his robes, eager to claim the boy completely.
Finally, the rod slipped free, immediately followed by a thick, steady dribble of pre-cum. Voldemort carelessly threw the tool into a corner.
With a final flourish he vanished his clothes. Placing his wand on a table just outside the rune circle Voldemort took one moment to drink in the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived in such a wanton, debauched state, crying and begging to be fucked by the murderer of his parents. It was better than anything else Voldemort could have done to the teen.
Sliding between the boy's trembling legs, Voldemort ran appreciative hands over Harry's sweat-slick skin, enjoying how the boy trembled under his fingers.
Grabbing the boy beneath his knees he guided the legs up, spreading them wide and exposing Harry's reddened entrance and the base of the toy that had fucked it open. Licking his lips, Voldemort grabbed the toy an cruelly yanked it out in one smooth move, making Harry cry out at the top of his lungs.
Before the boy could regain his breath Voldemort slammed himself inside, sheathing his hard cock inside the teen's passage with a groan of satisfaction. Harry threw his head back, mouth open in a soundless scream. Voldemort was quite a bit bigger than the toy, stretching Harry further and making him feel it every inch of his cock as it invaded his violated hole despite the night he'd had.
Voldemort stroked the boy's face almost lovingly. “You're going to confirm every claim I make and repeat it. Am I clear?”
Harry's head lolled to the side, leaning into the touch limp like a rag doll, soft whimpers and pants rushing from his parted lips.
“Am I clear?” Voldemort demanded, thrusting hard into Harry's pliant body.
“Ye- Yes...,” Harry gasped, weakly wriggling to adjust to the heat and pressure filling him to the brim.
“What are you going to do?” Voldemort asked softly, dangerously, as he pulled back for a moment, before roughly filling the boy again.
“C- Confirm every cla-claim and-... and repeat it...” Harry whimpered, glazed eyes wandering without seeing anything.
“Good boy,” Voldemort purred.
Muttering incantations under his breath the Dark Lord started the ritual, runes flaring up brightly around them, including the one on Harry's chest. Slowly he rolled his hips, making Harry moan weakly.
“I am your Master,” Voldemort declared, his tone brooking no argument.
For a moment Harry just stared, uncomprehending, before an particularly hard thrust snapped him out of it. “You- You are my M-Master,” he stuttered, whining long and low as Voldemort rewarded him with a few long strokes over his neglected manhood.
“I am your Owner.”
This time Harry caught on faster, repeating the phrase almost desperately. “You are my Owner.”
Again Voldemort pushed his hard cock into the Boy-Who-Lived, relishing in this almost effortless conquest of the child that had been his downfall. “You are mine, Heart, Body, and Soul.”
The last thrust had hit Harry's prostrate head on, and Harry only blinked confused as he tried to regain his breath.
Voldemort tightened his grip on Harry's hips, probably leaving bruises, and repeated the phrase.
“I-I am yo-yours, Heart, Body, and S-Soul.”
Voldemort smirked. “You belong to me for eternity.”
“I belong to you f-for eternity.”
“You are my property.”
Shuddering, Harry rasped, “I am your property.”
Red eyes trained on hazy green, Voldemort knew he was almost there. Within moments the Boy-Who-Lived would be no more, reincarnated as the Dark Lord's own personal human toy.
“You are MINE.”
Victory was so close he could taste it. Just one last step, one last response to seal the boy's fate....
“I am yours,” Harry repeated dutifully.
Blinding light flashed from all the runes in the room, and with a victorious shout Voldemort came within his nemesis, filling the boy with his essence and making the binding permanent. Riding out his high the Dark Lord kept fucking Harry's unresisting body as he watched the rune etch itself into the boy's flesh, a pitch black tattoo that proclaimed Voldemort's triumph and ownership for all the world to see.
The Boy-Who-Lived was dead. Exterminated. Utterly destroyed.
Voldemort had won.
Sobbing whimpers drew his attention. With a self-satisfied smile Voldemort gently petted the boy whose passage was still clenching around him like a vice.
“Such a good pet,” he murmured. “Let Master give you your reward.”
He removed the cock-ring and fisted Harry's hard manhood. The former Boy-Who-Lived wailed and came in seconds, passing out soon after.
Voldemort didn't care and simply ordered a House Elf to clean up everything. He had a victory to celebrate.