Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1546874.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape, Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Harry_Potter/
      Voldemort, Lucius_Malfoy/Harry_Potter
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-04-30 Chapters: 19/19 Words: 39333
****** He Defines Me ******
by pissedoffeskimo
Summary
     Rather than kill him, Voldemort hid Harry's existence from the world
     and raised him as a pet. Fourteen years later, Harry's rescued.
     Be warned that there will be rape, child abuse, mentions of character
     death, so on and so forth. Continue at your own risk.
Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
     This is a dark fic. It does start out happy-ish and if you want to
     imagine a happy ending, I will let you know when to stop. Otherwise,
     you've been warned - although, the premise alone should have been
     enough.
Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
Death Eater for the Dark Lord, and spy for Albus Dumbledore had been waiting a
long time for this battle. He’d been waiting nearly fifteen years, in fact,
since the first day Voldemort had proclaimed Riddle House to be his
headquarters.
Before then, meetings had been held in various locations, for safety reasons,
which changed at the least monthly, sometimes weekly depending on how active
the light side was at the time.
Then, only days after the death of the Potter family, He had called them to a
meeting and announced that they needed a secure location for their
headquarters. Not that Severus didn’t agree, or that it didn’t make his job as
a spy suddenly much easier (it was hard to pinpoint a location for attack, when
it constantly changed), it was just strange.
What was stranger still was that when he saw the house he could have sworn the
Dark Lord had finally gone completely off. It was large for a muggle home, two
stories and quite expansive, but it was a muggle house, in a muggle village,
somewhere out in the middle of muggle nowhere.
‘The strange’ had not stopped there. Voldemort had insisted Narcissa Malfoy
help him decorate. Severus had been there discussing a particularly difficult
potion the Lord wanted when she’d arrived, carrying her tiny son, Draco, with
her. Apparently she was to start in his bed chambers, as he was having great
difficulty sleeping. Something about the Dark Lord losing sleep over the decor
of his suite was unsettling at best, the fact that it was becoming visibly
apparent, dark circles under his eyes and occasionally what looked like food on
his robes, was enough to convince Severus he had indeed gone insane.
She had decorated the house in a short time, but still spent hours of every day
in his private chamber. The Death Eater grape vine had it that Lucius approved
of whatever she was doing. The grape vine also had it that what she was doing
was teaching him to change, feed, hold, and rock Draco to sleep. The best any
of them could come up with was that it was some kind of stress relieving
therapy.
Within a few months things had calmed down and Narcissa’s visits slowed, then
stopped, and not a word was heard of it again. Voldemort appeared to be getting
his ‘beauty sleep’ again, though he had the occasional bout of crankiness, and
he spent a great deal of time in his room.
In the end, what had taken fifteen years to find the location was that, despite
the fact he was worn, tired, and spending a great deal of time with a woman
learning about babies, he had not neglected his wards and various obscuring
charms. It was impossible to tell where the place was unless you were
apparating, for which you needed a clear mental imagine of your destination, or
you were one of the chosen four or five in His inner circle, of which Severus
was not.
The damned war was getting tiring for everyone involved. It waxed and waned,
one moment the Dark Lord seemed sure to win, and next, the Light shoved him
back, and he hunkered down for a year or two planning. It was annoying to those
caught in the middle, who’s line of loyalty was hard to pin, damned frustrating
to those like Severus who were spies, and walking a thin rope just to keep
themselves from getting caught, and it scared the shit out of anyone who, like
the Potters, were willing to take an obvious stand against him no matter who
was currently winning.
The Potters death had not, as the Lord expected, taken a devastating toll on
the wizarding world, it had been just the opposite. The small family of three
had become martyrs. Shortly after their deaths was the first time Voldemort had
been forced to take a step back and regroup. It was the last thing anyone of
them, Severus included, had expected, and it was the beginning of the trend
that would plague them for so long.
He’d been sure, along with many of the Aurors, that this was surely the end.
That by attacking at his base of operations, his long standing headquarters,
that they would finally crush him. Better yet, Severus was counting on him
refusing to budge and getting killed.
The battle had lasted a stunning ten minutes. There were some very valid
reasons for retreat; they had been caught by surprise, they were tired and
worn, and He had been handing out punishments just before the Aurors attacked.
Severus had been far too grateful for their timing, there were only four others
between Him and His wand, and those four weren’t on the list ‘who could be a
spy.’
As soon as the fight had been initiated he’d found an Auror he knew to be a in
the Order and began flinging spells in her direction, though purposefully wide
of her actual person. She had seemed annoyed at first, until she’d realized it
was him. They had been at the game the majority of the time, hoping no one
noticed that only their sloppiest, most harmless spells were actually hitting.
He had just noticed that he, along with the other death eaters, had fallen back
nearly to the house and it was most definitely time to check on the situation.
Giving the girl an almost apologetic look, he threw a well aimed Stunning charm
and made a rush towards Lucius, who was helping the back line keep the wards up
around the house.
Seeing Severus rushing in his direction, Lucius looked back at Voldemort, "We
have to retreat!" Much to the spies disdain, the Dark Lord nodded, turning
around to head into the house. Trying desperately to maintain his concentration
and speak clearly at the same time, Lucius looked over his shoulder, "My Lord,
we can not afford the time, leave it."
His face darkened with rage, and Severus stepped back a pace, adding his own
weak influence to the wards while listening intently, "I will not leave it
behind, Malfoy."
"Then have someone else get it, you need to get out of here now. As my lord and
Master I will not see you get caught over some fool possession."
For a moment, Severus expected Him to curse Lucius into the netherworlds, but
he simply scowled instead, "You may be my right hand man, but do not speak to
me that way. Snape!" Turning his head, and dropping what little magic he was
maintaining, Severus turned to the Dark Lord and nodded, "Go to my room, get
what’s there and bring it to me. Do not fail."
Without waiting for a reply He walked away to announce their retreat. Lucius
looked over his shoulder, breath gasping, "The wards will hold for ten or so
minutes. When they drop, apparate to Malfoy Mansion, I’ll meet you there and
we’ll take it to the new headquarters."
Marching into Riddle House, Severus looked around the halls to ensure that they
were empty before removing his death eaters mask. Damn thing was stuffy, it
impaired vision, hindered breathing, and was an over all bad idea, but most of
His supporters preferred the anonymity is provided.
He’d half made it to the Dark Lords private room when it dawned on him that he
had no clue what ‘it’ was. He had some idea of what it might be, as he’d heard
occasional talk or gossip of a pet of some sorts, but he’d never seen it, and
did not know what kind of animal it was, or where it might be hiding as the
house was violently shaking.
He opened the door to the Dark Lord’s room, allowing himself a moment to take
in the surroundings. The bed was set against the left most wall, large and
imposing, but what caught his eye first was the large cage on the floor at the
foot of that bed. Whatever ‘it’ was, it was a decent size. Sweeping his eyes
around the surprisingly small room, he noted the bookshelf against the back
wall, a high back, overly large chair in one corner, a dark haired boy peering
around from behind that chair, and a amour against the right wall. There was a
door to the right as well, probably leading into... Wait, a boy?
Looking back at the chair he saw whoever it was duck behind, as though hoping
he hadn’t been seen, "Who’s there?"
"Are you a death eater?" The voice was small, but slightly deeper than he’d
expected, at half glance it had appeared to be no more than a young child. When
he got no response, the boy slowly began to stand up and turn around.
For nearly a full minute, Severus was stunned beyond breathing. It was a
teenager, perhaps around fifteen, he had varying lengths of dark brown hair,
the longest to his chin, and the shorter so disarrayed it was impossible to
tell the length. His skin was ivory pale, as though he had never been in the
sun, and completely unblemished, and there really wasn’t much that couldn’t be
seen. All the boy wore was a pair of loose fitting leather shorts, a thin
collar of some sort, thick leather wrist and ankle cuffs with metal hoops
attached, though none were shackled to anything at the moment, and what
appeared to be a... nipple ring? His eyes were a sparkling green, wide and
trusting, as he scanned Severus. "You are. What’s going on? I’ve never seen you
before."
Not sure how to reply, Severus stared a little longer, gathering his thoughts.
There really was no mistaking it, no matter how unlikely it seemed, this child
was the ‘it’, this was what he was suppose to deliver to Malfoy. The boy took a
slow step forward, "Mister, what’s wrong? Where’s Master? Is he hurt?"
Shaking his head to clear it, Severus asked the first thing that came to mind,
"Who are you?"
"Who am I?" The question rolled off the boy’s tongue as though it were
unfamiliar or tasted foul, "I’m Master’s pet. Who are you?"
It had an arrogant sound to it, and Severus was half tempted to say something
arrogant in return. However, he held back, trying to determine the best course
of action, "Do you have a name?"
"I don’t think so."
He sounded more shades of innocent than Severus had thought possibly. But there
was something familiar about him, something that just didn’t fit with the scant
clothing and collar. The house shook again and the boy gripped the chair,
crouching down, "What’s going on? The house never moved before."
Severus took a deep breath. He couldn’t take the child back to the Dark Lord,
it was a nonexistent option, but he would have to come with a very good excuse
soon. Voldemort would not be pleased at losing his pet. "All right, listen to
me. The house is being attacked, and I was sent to fetch you, so you’ll have to
trust me."
Shrugging, he came over and stood next to Severus, "Whatever you say."
As the wards crackled a final time and died completely, Severus felt the wash
of energy, and quickly performed the apparation, sending them tumbling to
ground outside Hogwarts. Tumbling because when he’s tried to place an arm on
the child, he’d been leached onto, gangly arms wrapped tightly around his
waist, head tucked against the man’s chest as though he were frightened.
Seeing no one in the immediate vicinity, Severus took his cloak off and draped
it around the boy, who looked at him as though he were insane, "What’s that
for?"
"Decency?" The look in the boy’s face told him he had no clue what Severus was
talking about, "Just walk, this is Hogwarts. You’ll be staying here."
 
____________________
 
Dumbledore and Severus stood on either side of the door to the Potion Master’s
living room watching the boy sitting cross legged on the floor contently
watching them back. He hadn’t moved in the ten minutes they’d been standing
there, just watched them, as though they were the most interesting thing he had
ever seen. When they’d first gotten to the room the child had immediately
relaxed, letting up his death grip on Severus and trying to remove the robe
until he was ordered to sit down and not touch anything.
Severus had expected a battle over that. Any normal fifteen year old would not
have been able to keep their hands off the various parchment and items laying
around the dungeon room, but this one just sat there, and stared back,
perfectly happy.
After the ten minute mark past, though, he lost his patience, much to both
men’s relief. Albus had been filled in on what Severus knew, and it was
haunting to know they were staring at someone who had been in close contact
with the Dark Lord for years, a child no less, it was horrifying to watch said
person act as though they hadn’t a care in the world.
Standing up, he stretched his arms over his head, the cloak falling back behind
his shoulders, revealing his bare chest and long legs. Rushing forward, Severus
pulled his arms down and began buttoning the robe while Albus adjusted from the
shock. An innocent little creature like this was wearing leather and a
piercing. Stopping at the fourth button down, Severus looked down to meet the
boy’s gaze, hoping he could find a way to explain what was and was not
appropriate, but instead found himself facing someone long dead.
With the black cloak buttoned at the neck line and hiding the shocking body
underneath it was much easier to concentrate on the face. That same face that
had haunted Severus for years. The face of James Potter.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
"It can’t be him, he’s dead."
Albus leaned forward in his desk, "I am not suggesting this is James, Severus.
I am telling you that it is his son, Harry. There is little other explanation,
no other way he could have James’ face and Lilly’s eyes, be the right age, and
there are other indicators, magical ones."
Trying desperately to come up with anything else, Severus put his head in his
hands, "But he has no memory of them. Besides, what magical indicators? I
didn’t even get magic off the boy. Perhaps it some fluke of genetics and he’s
just an unlucky muggle."
The elder man sighed deeply, "The collar is a magic prohibitor. Harry has told
me he’s worn it since he was five, it was a birthday present. Apparently
Voldemort must have realized how strong he was going to be and decided to cut
it off at the pass, so to speak. Severus, why is this so hard for you to
believe?"
"How could I not have known? Am I that blind? I owed James my life and I
couldn’t repay it, how could I fail to protect his son?"
Standing up, Albus stood next to the professor and placed a hand on his
shoulder, "It was no ones fault, Severus. Voldemort stopped trusting you the
moment he found out the Potters were expecting him. Now, stop this and go see
to the boy, he seems very curious."
 
____________________
 
Harry, that was what the old man had called him, was indeed curious, but seeing
as he was unlikely to get answers anytime soon, he’d settled on desperately
searching for something to read. He really wasn’t suppose to be able to read,
Master got very upset when he even opened a book to look at the pictures. He
was never hurt for it, just reprimanded about the outside world tainting him.
He had just found something that could be interesting when the door opened and
shut quietly. Shoving the book under the chair next to him, Harry crossed his
legs and pretended he’d been sitting there the entire time, a game he was very
good at.
Harry saw the man named Severus stop short as he came into view and remembered
he had taken the cloak off. It was itchy. Master wore thick clothes, but every
time Harry had tried them on he’d only found them to be restrictive and stuffy.
Instead of picking the cloak up, the man left the room and went through another
door that Harry had stared at for some time. He wanted to know where it led,
but didn’t really think he was suppose to go there, so he stayed in the room
with the fireplace and chairs. He’d noticed the absence of a bed, or his cage,
but assumed those were in the room he hadn’t gone in.
The man returned, throwing something white and fluffy at him. Unraveling it,
Harry eyed the long sleeved shirt with disdain before looking up at Severus,
trying to confirm that he was expected to put it on. When he received a curt
nod he pulled it over his head, doing his best to ignore the scratchy feeling
against his skin. "Why do I have to wear this?"
After a moment, the man sat in front of him looking as though he was waiting
for a reaction. Harry wasn’t sure what sort of reaction he was supposed to
give, so he simply waited. "Harry, wearing... well, nothing, is inappropriate."
"Inappropriate? Why?" Inappropriate was interrupting Master when someone was
talking, inappropriate was throwing a fit around guests, or forgetting his
table manners, it had nothing to do with uncomfortable clothing.
After a long pause, the man’s mouth twitched, "It just is, so keep that on.
We’ll find something that fits later. What I need you to understand is that
form now on you are staying here. You’re not my pet..."
"Of course not, I’m His pet." Silly man, did he think Harry was stupid?
"No, Harry, you’re not anyone’s ‘pet’ anymore. Do you know what Hogwarts is
Harry?"
"Of course, Master says it’s the place full of people that don’t like him, and
that I should never go there." Now he was looking as though he’d ate something
horrible. "That’s where we are, right? Because you said so when we were on the
outside."
Severus was having a hard time figuring Harry out. He’d expected one of two
reactions. Least likely was gratitude, if the child had been raised in
captivity he was more likely to be fiercely loyal and demand to be taken back.
This complacent acceptance as very nearly infuriating. "You do realize I
brought you here against His wishes?"
Harry scoffed slightly and shrugged, "It doesn’t matter. He’ll come get me
eventually, I am his pet, he takes care of me, so I’ll just stay here till he
does."
"He doesn’t know you’re here."
"He’ll find me."
"I’m a spy, a traitor to his cause."
"So?"
"You trust me to take care of you till he comes?"
"I have no reason not to."
"I took you away."
"But you haven’t hurt me. In fact, I think your very nice."
"Insufferable brat!" Harry didn’t flinch. Severs didn’t know what had com over
him. He was trying to get some kind of emotional reaction, anything, but even
yelling hadn’t done it. Looking at the relaxed face, he reached out and ruffled
the hair,
Tell you what? You can pretend he’s coming for two weeks. If he doesn’t come by
then, you accept that he won’t?"
Harry smiled and shrugged, "I know he’ll come, even if it takes years, I know
he’ll come. I’m his pet."
Closing his eyes, Severus decided the day had been far too long already,
besides, the boy was too stubborn to budge at the moment. It could take a while
before he started to see his new position, Severus would just have to watch for
signs that it was sinking in, "Off to bed then."
Standing up with youthful agility Harry bounded towards the bedroom but to stop
at the door. "Mister, where is my bed?"
Severus stood and walked up behind him, pushing him through the doorway,
"You’ll sleep on mine tonight, we’ll have a cot brought in later."
"But, mister, I always sleep at the foot of Master’s bed. Not in it."
Bugger. Severus had forgotten the cage. But if Harry’s behavior so far was
anything to go by, it would not be hard to get him to sleep in the bed, "Come
on, then, no sleeping at the foot of my bed, it would give me the creeps." True
to form, the boy got into the matress and allowed himself to be tucked in.
Harry, had other ideas. It wasn’t that he never slept on the bed, just never
alone. As soon as the man had turned the lights off and stepped out the door,
Harry crept to the crack and waited patiently for the lights in the other room
to go out. Then he listened till the breathing became heavy and even, a sure
sign that someone was sleep.
Slipping out the door he crept across the room and found the man asleep on a
large couch. Laying himself on the floor, Harry tried to shake the earlier
conversation from his head. Master would come, he was his pet after all.
 
____________________
 
Severus woke to the familiar burning sensation up his arm. Taking deep seething
breaths, he sat up, nearly stepping on the small body next to the sofa. As he
toes brushed against it, he looked down to find Harry, eyes opening groggily, a
frown painted on his face, as though something were bothering him, and his
voice heavy with sleep, "He’s calling."
Reaching for the boy’s right arm, he looked for any sign of the dark mark. Same
as the night before it was missing, "How would you know that? You aren’t
marked."
"Of course not. I would never have something that garish." Harry pulled the
buckle on the left wrist cuff, exposing the inside, and a strange glittering,
green and silver serpent tattoo, coiled around his wrists like a bracelet. "It
does much the same as yours. He can use to call you, or if he uses someone
else’s I’ll feel it. But it doesn’t hurt, just tingles funny, and I’m not
suppose to go when it does."
After a moment of staring, Severus nodded and stood, reaching for his cloak,
"You will stay here, in this room." Before the boy could ask where exactly
Severus expected him to go, the man stepped out and shut the door.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
Harry was bored, he’d rarely been so bored. Master always kept things around
for him to do, games, and magic things, and he always left any number of
interesting books laying around. Severus kept none of those. His room was far
more elaborate, much larger, but dark, and it smelled of damp stone, though
upon inspection, Harry found the walls were not wet at all, just cold.
The book he had shoved under the couch turned rapidly boring, there weren’t
even any good pictures for him to look at. He’d read some of it anyway, but
found that he didn’t understand the majority, like the mentions of virgin
sacrifices. Master had said a sacrifice was when you gave something up to get
something else. But what was a virgin?
Putting it down after an hour of trying to decipher the text, he began looking
around for something else to do. A desk in the far right hand corner caught his
eye and he scurried over, sitting on the floor, and rummaging through the
various scrolls piled around it. He opened one carefully, "The uses of
Wolfsbane."
He’d gotten only a few lines into it, before putting it away. It seemed to be
an essay of sorts, and it wasn’t very good; poorly written in fact. Grabbing
another one, he found it titled much the same. Strange, what would anyone want
with two essays on Wolfsbane, neither of which seemed very accurate from
Harry’s limited knowledge?
Flopping bonelessly on the couch, he stared at his finger nails absently,
enjoying the feel of cool leather on his abdomen; he’d abandoned the shirt the
moment he was alone. Master had insisted he keep his fingernails well trimmed
and manicured. Looking at them now, there was no denying they could use a file,
but he doubted the man kept anything like that around. In fact, the man kept
nothing around of entertainment. It was all boring instruction manuals of some
sort, and scrolls that made little sense.
There were some stopped vials in a heavily warded cupboard, but he’d learned
years ago not to drink anything that wasn’t clearly labeled or specifically
given to him. The last time that had happened Master had insisted he stay as a
girl until it wore itself off. It took weeks. The time before that he’d lost
his voice for two months. The time before that he’d done it on purpose; but he
was five, bored, and ‘pepper up,’ had sounded fun.
He was about to roll over and try to sleep when the doors flung open. The man
called Dumbledore came in followed by two women who seemed to be supporting
Severus. It wasn’t an uncommon site to him, Master had come back in such a
state more than once, but that did nothing to stave off Harry’s curiosity.
Jumping from the couch, he followed them to the bedroom doors and leaned
against the frame. Albus watched Minerva and Poppy lay Severus on the bed
before turned to face the child waiting in the doorway. His head was cocked to
one side, eyes furrowed together, as if he were doing something very difficult.
He motioned the boy over, putting a hand on his shoulder as he neared the bed.
After a moment of staring, Harry looked up at the old man, "What happened to
him?"
"I had a picnic." Severus voice was croaked and dry. Albus didn’t wonder if it
was from screaming.
Ignoring his spy’s sarcasm for what it was, an attempt not to break down in
front of the others, he turned his attention away, "He was punished, Harry."
"Why?"
For a moment Albus wondered if the boy was being insolent, or mouthing off, but
the curious expression and eager eyes showed neither. "Voldemort punished him
for not bringing you back."
Shrugging off the hand, Harry went up to the bed and crawled onto it, sitting
on his knees next to the injured man and staring intently, "Why didn’t you take
me back if he was going to punish you?" He sounded neither angry, nor annoyed,
he didn’t seem to care that he’d been taken away, just curious as to what he
had been thinking.
Severus eyed Harry for a moment, gauging what he should say, "Because, no
person should have to be a pet."
The little nose wrinkled, far more confused than when he’d come in, "But, I
already am."
Putting his arm around Harry’s shoulder, Albus eased him off the bed, and
guided him towards the living room, "Come along, Harry, he needs rest."
Once the doors were shut, he located the discarded shirt and handed it back to
Harry. For a moment, he did not think the child would take it, but, with what
seemed like great reluctance, he did, pulling it over his head, and trying to
stand still despite the strange feeling creeping across his skin. "Mister, why
didn’t he take me back to Master?"
Seating the boy on the sofa, Dumbledore sat beside him, carefully choosing his
words, "Let’s start with I am Professor Dumbledore, and I would like you to
call me that."
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore."
"Also, you’ll have to start calling Him Voldemort, not Master."
Harry looked at his feet, playing with the carpet between his toes, "But,
Master never lets me call him that. He forbid it."
Well, that was a small problem, "Are there any other names he forbid?" The
child shook his head, still staring downward. "Well, then, how about Tom?"
Harry’s head shot up in surprise, "Tom?"
Dumbledore nodded, smiling, "That’s his real name. Think it will work?"
Once again eyeing his feet, he nodded, "I think so. I’ll try, but, why does my
calling him Master bother everyone so much?"
"It’s complicated, Harry, and I doubt you’ll understand it yet. You see, what
Tom did to you was wrong. No person is meant to live as a pet. It makes others
upset to realize you did, and that they can’t take that away from you, Severus
especially. He owed your father a great deal, and feels as though he has
somehow let him down."
Harry turned around to face the older man, propping his feet on the sofa, and
clutching his legs to his chest, "I have a father?"
Realizing he had the child’s interest he nodded, turning himself as well, "Had
a father, he and your mother died trying to protect you from Voldemort. They
were both very good people, Harry, and they loved you very much."
He seemed to be contemplating this for a moment, his toes pressing into the
seat cushion, "What were their names?"
"James and Lilly Potter."
He was silent again for a moment, "So, I’m Harry Potter, then?" When the man
nodded, he sighed, putting his chin on his knees, "This is very confusing, you
know. You both keep saying that no one should be anyone’s pet, or that it was
wrong, but I don’t see how that matters, because he raised me, and he’s nice to
me, and he takes care of me. I’m never hungry, seldom bored, I get gifts of all
sorts, I am happy. So what does it matter that I’m his pet?"
Ruffling the boy’s hair, Albus stood from the sofa, and picked up the blanket
from the floor, "You’ll understand some day, Harry, right now, I think you need
sleep."
Laying down on his side, he allowed the man to cover him up and closed his
eyes. It was all so confusing, and he was tired.
 
____________________
 
Severus slowly crawled his way back to consciousness, ever thankful that it was
a weekend, and he would be allowed some peace and quite for the next two days.
He was going to need it, Voldemort had been less than happy that his pet had
gotten away. The only thing that had probably saved Severus life was that among
the Dark Lord’s minions, Severus was the only Potions Master, and he was always
in need of one.
Stretching out slightly, he found himself hindered by a weight on his chest and
a warmth against his side. Opening his eyes reluctantly, he found himself
staring down at a tangled mass of brown/black hair. Harry. The boy must have
curled up next to him some time during the night.
He dumped the boy onto the bed as he sat up, delighting in the exhausted groan
it achieved. What he was not so delighted by, however, was the look in the
young boy’s face as he lifted his head and suddenly flung his arms around the
Potion Master’s waist, "Morning, Mister!"
Shoving him off, Severus suddenly realized the shirt had disappeared again.
Come to think of it, the shirt wasn’t there last night when he’d gotten back.
"Go put the shirt on."
He pouted fetchingly, his head down, eyes upturned, "I don’t like the shirt, it
itches." When the man’s face remained impassive, however, he sighed resignedly
and half threw his upper body off the bed, groping for the clothing on the
floor.
Once the shirt was loosely fitted in place, Severus sighed, "We’ll have to get
you clothes, real clothes. But for now, a pair of pants will have to suffice. I
suppose I’ll have to find someone of your size, someone in Slytherin, someone
with clothes to spare... of course."
Harry watched Severus get out of the bed and pull on his thick robes, eyeing
him apprehensively "Don’t move, stay right where you are."
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
Draco Malfoy sat in his bed, leanings against the headboard, thoroughly
engrossed in a book his father had sent him. It was a common scene, Lucius
wanted his son to be well versed in the dark arts and he saw no reason for his
training to slack during the school year. What was uncommon, however, was when
someone, even one of his ‘friends’ decided to interrupt him.
Looking over the edge of the book, he surveyed Blaise Zambini who appeared
somewhat nervous, as though he wasn’t sure which was safer, to run up the
stairs to the common room, or past Malfoy to his bed. "Hey, Snape’s upstairs,
says he’s looking for you."
Shrugging, he put his eyes back into the book, "Then he can keep looking. It’s
the weekend, and I have to study."
Knowing that the stone walls would echo his voice into the common room, he
waited. Snape was apparently not pleased with his response, "Draco Malfoy, get
up here before I have to come down there!" What a juvenile threat. "And bring
some pants," pause, "and a silk shirt."
Pants and a silk shirt? Setting the book on his bedside, he decided this was
far more interesting. With one of his shirts and pair of tight cotton pants in
hand, Draco bolted up the stairs, "Why the hell do you need my shirt and..."
His arm was gripped firmly as Professor Snape began dragged him through the
door, "Hey! Where are we going?" Maybe... "I didn’t do anything wrong."
Snape looked back, raising an eyebrow, "I highly doubt that, Mr. Malfoy."
As they neared the Professor Snape’s door, Draco felt a funny feeling in his
stomach. What the hell had he needed a change of clothes for? He was thrust
through the first door and shoved into the bedroom chamber before he could
complain,"Well, Snape, I never knew you were so kinky."
"Shut up, brat." He spun his student around to face the bed and waited for him
to take in the visage. Harry really was an image to behold. He’d held the
position he’d been in before, on his knees, legs bent back, feet on either side
of his hips, and hands firmly placed against the bed and rumbled comforter.
His large eyes were taking in Draco, as well, curious though he said nothing.
Draco looked from Harry, his hair wild from the evening sleep and his bright
green eyes distinctly tired, to Snape, his robes slightly wrinkled, and
whistled, "Way to go, Professor! Looks like I lose the pool, though. Damn, I
was sure you were celibate."
For a moment, Severus stared at him as though he had lost his mind, after which
he promptly smacked him upside the head, "You will keep your opinions of my sex
life to yourself, and I did not sleep with him! Did you’re father teach you no
respect?"
"He taught me to respect those more powerful than me." That earned him another
smack. "Ow! Will you stop that? You’re going to mess up my hair."
Steering the blond towards the bed, he stopped next to it and pointed at the
lone occupant. After a moment, Draco shrugged, holding out his hand, "Hey, I’m
Draco."
"I’m Tom’s pet."
"You what?"
Draco stared open mouth while Severus tried to come up with an excuse, and
failed miserable, "This is Harry. And you, keep you’re mouth shut about that. I
called you here because he needs to be cleaned up and I refuse to be the one to
do it. Besides, none of my clothes would fit him."
"You want me to give him my clothes?"
Harry fell to the bed on his stomach, feet in the air, "I really don’t need
any, they itch."
Severus grabbed one end of the comforter and threw it over the boy, trying not
to smirk as he crawled out from under it, "I told you to keep quite. Yes,
Draco, I need you to loan him your clothes until he can get some of his own."
Scowling, Draco surveyed the further ruffled boy, his shirt now hanging off one
shoulder and sighed, "Fine, I’ll ‘clean him up.’"
"Good, I’ll be back in an hour."
As the main door shut, Draco began to look over the project in front of him,
trying to decide why exactly the boy was wearing cuffs and a collar. Harry had
returned to his position on his knees, staring at the other boy intently, "I
know who you remind me of." Crawling over, he put a finger on the other boy’s
nose, "You look like Mister Malfoy."
Draco stepped back, surprised at the sudden forwardness, "You know my father?"
Harry nodded, but said no more, so Draco decided to drop it, opting for bath
first, questions later. "Come on, into the bathroom.
Harry, who was very comfortable on the bed, and feeling rather at home frowned,
but followed the blond through to the room he had not been in yet. It was very
large, bigger than the bathroom at Riddle House. There was a bathtub large
enough for three, a standing shower with a seat, and a large vanity style sink.
He waited patiently while Draco drew the bath water, taking off everything
besides his collar and right arm band. Draco stared openly at the nipple ring
for nearly thirty seconds before dragging his eyes away. He’d seen them before,
but only in the nudie magazines he’d stolen from his father. As Harry stepped
into the water, he looked back to see Draco fully dressed and was perplexed
when he realized he wasn’t getting in with him. "What’s wrong?"
Draco dunked him under water, and grabbed the shampoo, "What do you mean?"
Harry cringed as the soap was worked into his hair, "Why aren’t you getting in?
Don’t you need a bath too?"
For a moment, Draco looked shocked, appalled, and even hurt at the suggestion,
but got over it by shoving the other boy under again, keeping him there until
he was sure the shampoo was out, "No, I do not need one, and even if I did, I
don’t take baths with other boys."
"Why not?"
He was far gentler as he put the conditioner in, mostly because he was too busy
thinking of an answer, and wondering exactly why he had to give one, "Well,
it’s inappropriate for one. And also because I kind of like boys, and it
wouldn’t be very good if I got excited, now would it?"
Harry looked over the rim of the tub, but Draco quickly shoved him away before
he could get a look at his pants, "Do I make you excited?"
Draco shoved him back under and handed him soap when he surfaced, "Scrub
yourself off."
Willing his excitement down, he took the time to locate certain bathroom
elements, a brush was a good thing, and although he hated to spread germs he
couldn’t find an extra toothbrush, so he preformed a basic sterilizing spell.
Looking over his shoulder, he caught another glimpse of a very naked Harry
reached for a towel. There was a discrete giggle from Harry as Draco turned
away, but the blond decided to ignore it for the sake of his dignity, and wait
for the blush to pass.
By the time he turned around Harry had put the leather cuffs back on his ankles
and other wrist and was looking for his shorts. "No, wrap the towel around
yourself, and sit down."
When he was seated and Draco had started brushing his hair he began questioning
him, "So, what’s with the domination get up?"
"Tom gave them to me."
"Someone gave you a collar?" He reached over to touch it, but stopped as he
noticed Harry getting uncomfortable.
"Yes, for my birthday. And these," he held up his wrists, "and those." and
pointed to his ankles.
"Aren’t they uncomfortable?"
"Not anymore." He fingered the wet one absently, "It feels odd when their not
on."
Having given up getting the hair to stay in place, Draco led him into the room
and stood him in the center, "Where are you’re underwear?" Harry shook his
head, and for a moment Draco shook back, confused, before the meaning settled
in. "You don’t have any." He nodded and Draco stood there, utterly perplexed.
Now what? He couldn’t very well leave a naked boy in the middle of Snape’s bed
chambers while he went off the get undies. Not only that, but he wasn’t
entirely sure he wanted someone running around in his. After a moment, he did
the only thing he found reasonable, despite the fact there was a good chance
Snape would kill him, he began rummaging through his Potions Professor’s
drawers hoping to find a pair of boxers.
After several minutes he came up from his project more or less triumphant. He’d
convinced Harry to take off the ankle cuffs, but the boy had refused to let
Draco touch his collar or wrists, so those had stayed. Even with those, he
might have looked somewhat regal if he’d stop fidgeting.
As they waited for Snape to return Draco lounged on the sofa, while Harry
insisted on sitting on the floor with his chin pressed into the cushions,
looking up childlike at the boy above him. He’d never been around someone his
own age. There had been a window in the bathroom at Riddle House, enchanted so
that it could not be seen from the outside, and on occasion Harry had watched
the death eater’s children playing in the yard below, but he’d never talked to
them.
He’d seen Draco before, always standing away from the other children, always
keeping to himself, or following behind his father. He’d looked self important
from afar, but now that Harry saw him up close he looked more bored. Mr. Malfoy
always looked as though he were thinking about something very important, Draco
looked as if he were trying to look like that. Like now, by all appearances he
looked as though he were reading the book, but Harry hadn’t seen his eyes move
the entire time.
"Draco, I’m bored."
He didn’t bother to look up, "Good for you."
Harry lifted his arm up to the couch and rested his head on it. Last night
something strange had happened, and he wanted to ask Draco about it, but wasn’t
sure how. "Draco, do you like Mister Severus."
The blond didn’t bother to look up, he’d probably found the same picture Harry
had the night before, and like Harry, he was probably trying to figure out
exactly what the ghouls were doing the witch they had tied down. "He’s all
right, annoying bastard, doesn’t give a rats ass what you’re doing if it serves
his purpose, but he can be nice, too."
That wasn’t what he’d meant. He’d meant ‘like’ as in when Draco had said he
‘liked’ boys. "Does he excite you?"
Draco’s fingers went nerveless and the book slid from them into the lap, pages
rustling and losing his place. "What? Are you kidding?" When Harry didn’t
answer, he gulped heavily, wondering what had brought this on, "No, he’s as old
as my father, not to mention, he isn’t exactly a looker."
"Looker?"
"Handsome, pretty even. He’s not bad, but not my type either."
"Oh." Harry put his head back down, turning slightly away.
Closing the book, Draco sat up, "What do you mean, ‘oh’? Where the hell did
that come from?"
Harry shrugged, and for a moment the other boy contemplated shaking some sense
into him, but the lock on the door clicked and he ended up grabbing the book
and pretending, once again, to be interested.
Severus stood at the door for moment, deciding why Malfoy was reading a book on
aphrodisiac potions written in ancient Gaelic. He didn’t think Malfoy could
read common Gaelic, let alone the older varieties. Then again, he probably
couldn’t. Severus couldn’t, but the pictures alone had been worth the purchase.
Just as he was about to mention that particular parts of that book were far too
mature for young Malfoy to be looking at, Harry sat up from his kneeling
position, looking at the page Draco was on. His eyes lit up and he smiled, as
though it were something brilliant, and put his finger on the page, "I’ve done
that one."
Both the rooms occupants looked at him for a moment, too stunned to react.
Draco was the first to move, shifting his face again to the book, his cheeks
reddening at whatever he saw. Before Severus could even begin to stride towards
them to see exactly what it was Harry had done, Draco slammed it shut and
tossed it over the back of the sofa, "Well, guess I’m done here!"
Severus wanted to stop him, his natural instinct would have been to reach out
and grab his arm to prevent the escape, but he was far too shocked at the
prospect that Harry had done anything depicted there to move until well after
Malfoy was out of the room.
Staring a few more moments at the boy still seated on floor, a look of
confusion and concentration plastered across his brow, Severus turned and
walked out the door, locking it firmly behind him. He had absolutely no idea
where to proceed from here, and he needed sage like advice. He needed Albus
Dumbledore.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
‘Talk to the boy, explain things.’
God damned sage like advice. If Albus thought it was so easy, he should give it
a try. ‘Well, Harry, you shouldn’t point those things out because it’s
inappropriate.
‘Inappropriate?’
‘Yes, it might make someone feel uncomfortable.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it just does. Not everyone goes around doing whatever it is you’ve
done that’s in that book. Where is that thing anyway?’
‘So, I should lie?’
‘No, not lie, just not talk about it.’
‘Isn’t that as good as lying?’
‘Well, it’s not the same. Sometimes it’s better to just not say something.’
‘Like when?’
‘Like when it might hurt their feelings.’
‘Hurt their feelings?’
‘Make them feel sad or guilty, or just upset them.’
‘Did I hurt Draco’s feelings?’
‘No, I don’t doubt you made his day.’
‘Then why should I have said nothing?’
It was like talking to a three year old, and Severus had never been good with
children. The conversation had gone on for nearly thirty minutes before Harry
had given up trying to understand what Severus meant and went to bed for a nap.
By the time dinner rolled around Severus’ stomach was growling angrily at him.
It was something he was used to, Death Eater meetings often left him with
little to no appetite for days after, but his own stomach’s anxiety forced him
to remember that if he had not eaten, Harry had not eaten, and as a growing
boy, he would most assuredly be hungry.
Setting aside the red ink and quill he’d been using, he glared at the five
essays left to grade. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered assigning them,
they were far more trouble for him than it was worth. Harry was curled like a
cat around a pillow in the middle of the bed, hair falling over his face, pale
legs gleaming in the dim candle lit against the black bed coverlet.
He had only the shirt on, half unbuttoned down the middle. Where the hell had
his pants gone? "Harry, get up, we’re going to dinner. Are you wearing anything
under there?"
Sitting up, Harry rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and looked down at
his legs, "Hmmm, yes, shorts."
"Well, put the pants on." Severus found them at the foot of the bed and stood
up to hand them to the boy when the ‘shorts’ caught his attention, "Those are
my boxers."
He looked down at the underwear disdainfully, "Yes, Draco told me to put them
on. They feel funny. Can I take them off?"
Blushing slightly, Severus hastily flung the pants at the boy, "No, it’s
inappropriate. Just, meet me in the other room when you’re dressed."
From the living room it took Severus nearly ten minutes to convince Harry to go
out the door, and another twenty to get him down the first hall. The boy kept
stopping to look behind him, or touch the moving painting, who didn’t seem to
be appreciating it very much. Severus tried to explain this, but it went about
as well as the previous conversation, "Harry, stop touching the paintings.
"Why?" He touched another one, getting a dirty look from the man inside.
Grabbing the boy’s hand, he shot the painting an apologetic sneer, "Because it
annoys them."
Harry reached out with his other hand to touch another as they past it, but
Severus managed to jerk him slightly, and he missed. "Their not alive are
they?"
"No."
"Does it hurt their feeling?"
"No."
"Then why does it matter?"
Shoving him in front as they reached the doors to the Great Hall, Severus tried
to reign in his temper, "It just does, Harry. You’ll eat with me at the head
table, so just walk to the front, and keep your mouth shut."
He gave the man a dissatisfied pout before pushing open the doors and stepping
through. His feet stopped of their own accord as his brain tried to register
the number of people in the room. There had to be hundreds of them, his age,
older, younger, all wearing similar black robes, sitting at four tables
stretching the length of a room the size of which Harry could never have
imagined. Not that he’d spent a great deal of time imaging rooms, he preferred
board games.
For a moment his eyes moved to the ceiling. It looked like fluffy clouds
swirling past night time stars. He loved the stars, sometimes when Master was
asleep he’d sneak into the bathing room and look at them. It was more of a
morbid curiosity than anything else, he’d often wished he could touch one. But
the people had begun to notice him, and the noise of the room was dying down.
As more eyes focused on him, his chest became tighter, and he felt his throat
restrict. In the back of his mind somewhere he noted Draco sitting to the far
right, he saw Professor Dumbledore, and he was fairly sure he recognized two of
the women as having been the ones in Severus’ room the other night. However,
that information was stuck behind the far more prominent notion that, besides
them, he knew no one. Not a single person.
He wanted to say something, anything, maybe that he liked the ceiling, but it
was far too silent, painfully silent. Holding his breath, Harry stepped back,
his mind focusing only on returning to the safety of Severus’ chambers. Not
that he was all that sure he could find his way back, but trying had to be
better than staying here with so many people. Within two steps he bumped into
Severus, and found himself turning around, gripping the man tightly around the
waist. The warmth crept into him, and he wanted nothing more than to breath in
the scent as he had the night before, to feel protected from the eyes
threatening to burn wholes in his back.
He felt hands grip his shoulder and try to pry him away, but he refused to let
go. Severus looked down at the messy black hair, and the arms so suddenly
wrapped around him making it hard to breath. Looking up at the headmaster he
shrugged, trying again to unsuccessfully dislodge the boy. "What’s wrong?" He
whisper was barely audible, but the silence in the Great Hall made it sound
more like a small explosion.
The boy shook his head desperately into the man’s shirt. Leaning down with some
difficulty Severus managed to pick up two words that Harry was repeating over
and over, "Too many. Too many."
Shooting Albus a piercing gaze that meant he’d speak with him later, Severus
put his hands on Harry’s shoulder and backed him out of the hall, waiting till
the door closed to let go. "Harry, I need you to look at me." Bright green eyes
the size of saucers reluctantly looked up, "We’re going back to my rooms, okay?
You’ll have to let go."
With great effort, Harry looked around the hall, relieved to see no one. He
nodded, his chest unpleasantly tight as he unwound his arms but took an instant
death grip on Severus’ hand.
 
____________________
 
It had taken him nearly an hour to calm Harry down. When they’d gotten to the
rooms, he’d reattached his arms around the man’s middle, only this time he had
refused to let go or so much as speak again. They had ended up on the bed,
Severus rocking Harry in his lap, rubbing his back in lazy circles, praying
that he would stop shaking and let go.
Eventually, he did let go, his grip slackened, breath evened, and Severus found
himself holding a sleeping child. He set Harry very carefully on the bed and
arranged the covers around the slight shoulders before slipping out to find
Albus waiting patiently on his couch, "Is he feeling better?"
Sitting down heavily next to the headmaster, Severus put his head in his hands,
"He’s asleep, if that’s better. I’m still not entirely sure what’s wrong with
him, though."
"I believe it may have been related to something muggles call agoraphobia, a
fear of being in public, or in crowds. I doubt it’s a true phobia. With time
Harry could become used to it, but I get the feeling he’s never been around a
great many people, and it must have been rather shocking to walk into the Great
Hall without knowing what to expect."
Severus sighed, trying to resist the urge to drink. It was against the rules to
do so during the school year, but as he was one of the year round tenants he
was permitted a small store for summer use. Right now seemed as good a time as
any to break the rules had Albus not been sitting right next to him. "You know
I can’t take care of him. I am not good with children, and he acts like he’s
five years old one minute, and says something that floors me the next. Besides
my own capability, he’ll get bored, I have nothing here for him to do, and I
can’t very well find a babysitter to keep him company."
Albus laughed softly and conjured tea, much the Severus distaste, herbs were no
substitute for stiff liquor, "I am sure you can come up with something for him
to do. However, I do have a favor to ask." He didn’t know why he was surprised,
tea always came with tense situations such as needing advice from the old fool
or being asked a favor. "I need you to get him used to people. Eventually I
want him to be taught magic, preferably as soon as we can convince him to take
he collar off, but it won’t do any good for him to go to classes as he was
today."
"And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?" Screw the old man, he needed a
drink. Standing up, Severus walked to his liquor cabinet in the far corner and
set about removing the locks. "Speaking of which how am I to teach my classes
with him here? I can’t trust him not to get into anything, and don’t think for
even a moment that I’ll take him with me. Tonight was bad enough, I’ll not have
him clinging to me while I’m trying to teach. Not to mention should he open his
mouth I would probably be mortified by whatever came out. He has no concept of
what’s appropriate, the first thing he said to Malfoy was that he was ‘Tom’s
pet.’ Thank god he said Tom and not Master, or Draco would have already told
his father where the boy is. I don’t want to die because he doesn’t know when
to keep his mouth shut."
"I’m... I’m sorry." Both men turned to see Harry standing in the half open
doorway to the bedroom, tears forming in his eyes, "I don’t mean to say things
like that... it’s just that I don’t understand, and... and I’m sorry." The
tears started to fall, and he slipped around the doorway, leaving a stunned
Severus staring at the empty spot he’d been standing.
The room was utterly silent. Severus was trying desperately to process the
information. It the twenty four hours since he’d taken Harry away from
Voldemort he’d gotten the impression that Harry didn’t get upset very easily.
He seemed more likely to be confused or curious, but not upset, in fact, the
way he acted the great majority of the time indicated that he had never been
truly angry or hurt.
Albus broke the silence, standing from his seat and placing a hand on Severus
shoulder, "I believe I shall go and have a talk with him."
Severus grunted his consent, and Albus walked tentatively through the door to
the bedroom. Harry was sitting just on the other side of the it, his knees
drawn up to his chest, shaking violently. With far less difficulty that one
might imagine for a man his age, Albus sat down next to the crying boy and
waited patiently for him to calm down.
It was a while before Harry stopped shaking enough to look up, his face tear
stained, eyes puffy, "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hang on to him like that, but
I’ve only ever known five people and they weren’t ever in the same room
together at the same time. There were too many of them, and he felt safe, and
warm, and I just wanted to be protected. And I don’t mean to say things like...
like that, I suppose, but I don’t know what I can and can’t say, and all I can
do is try and understand, but it’s so hard."
Putting his arm around the boy’s shoulder he let Harry lean against him,
"Harry, Severus did not mean what he said, he’s just has no patience, and he
doesn’t know when to keep his own mouth shut."
A snort came from the other room, "Just like some old fools I could name that
don’t know when to keep their nose out of other people’s business."
Winking at the confused boy, Albus smiled, "See what I mean?"
Giving a half smile, Harry sat up, "So he should have done what he told me to
do this morning?" At Albus questioning gaze, the boy seemed far more sure of
himself, "He said that sometimes it’s better not to say anything at all,
because you could hurt someone’s feelings."
Albus nodded and found himself ruffling Harry’s already messy hair, "Very good,
it looks like he’s not a total lose as a teacher after all."
Frowning, Harry leaned against the wall, "So, that means I got my feelings
hurt?" When Albus nodded the boy sighed, "I don’t think I liked it very much.
It made my chest feel all tight, and my stomach go funny. And I don’t remember
ever having cried like that before, but it just hurt so much."
Albus helped him to his feet, brushing the boy’s shirt straight, "Well, Harry,
that’s why sometimes we keep our mouths shut. Severus, I’ll be leaving for the
night, and I’ll have dinner sent up, I don’t doubt you two are ravenous."
Once Albus was gone, Harry stood in the dark room for a few minutes, deciding
if it was all right to leave. Part of him was afraid that Severus might not
want to see him, the other part was terrified of it. No one had ever been so
mad at him before, and it was disconcerting that it should be the man who made
him tingle and shiver every time they touched.
He was just about to forfeit and go to bed when a familiar popping sound caught
his ear, "Master Severus sir, Mimi is bringing you dinner."
Severus was just about to tell Mimi to put it on the desk when he was caught
completely off guard by Harry rushing from the room kneeling in front of the
elf, "You’re a house elf!"
Mimi blinked a few times, "Who be you, young master?"
Harry shook his head adamantly, "Not master, pet, I’m Tom’s pet. Do you know
Tibby?"
"We is not associating with Tibby, sir, she works for the Dark One."
Harry’s bright face downcast, but he seemed fairly determined, and Severus
gauged the encounter, both trying to judge what Harry was talking about and
whether he should break it up. "But could you, Mimi? Could you get word to
Tibby, because she’ll be worried about me."
Then it clicked. While Voldemort may have lived in a muggle house, and a muggle
town, but he had not lived the muggle way, and Severus knew of at least one
house elf in the Riddle House, though he had never heard her name mentioned. It
occurred to him at around the same time, that Voldemort could not have always
been there for a baby or a small child, there were battles that had lasted two
and three days, someone would have had to take care of Harry. Apparently that
someone was a house elf named Tibby.
Stepping in front of the two, he knelt down, "Harry, she can not tell Tibby,
Voldemort could find out where you are." He paused for a moment before adding,
"And that would be bad."
Harry pouted, "But she’ll be worried."
Severus shook his head, an idea forming in his mind, "Mimi, I’ll have to ask
you a favor."
"Yes, Master Severus sir, anything Mimi can do."
"Monday morning you will come here and keep Harry company until I return at
night."
Harry’s eyes lit up, he grabbed Severus around the waist, holding tightly even
as the man tried to shove him off. He bid Mimi goodnight and managed, with
great difficulty, to dislodge the boy. Some part of him realized it was going
to be a long week.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
Long week had turned out to be an understatement. Harry seemed to have an
affinity for breaking rules, and Albus did nothing more than shrug and smile,
saying that Harry was just testing his new boundaries. Testing was one thing,
but throwing a screaming fit at being told to sleep alone was another. It
hadn’t matter how many times Severus told him, or if he locked the door, Harry
always ended up on the floor next to the sofa, sans shirt or pants.
That was another issue Severus was having trouble dealing with. The boy
radiated sexuality, however innocent he came across. His moved fluidly, with
almost unnatural grace, and it was doubled the fewer clothes he wore. By Friday
Severus was beginning to understand why some men went bald. If Harry wasn’t
acting like a small child, he was doing something that could only be taken
sexually, like laying on his back on the floor pouring hot wax on his stomach.
He’d managed to start making a fairly intricate pattern by the time Severus
came out his hormone induced stupor and took it away, stammering over
explanations as to why candles weren’t made for that. If Severus had to hear
‘why,’ or will away another raging hard on one more time he was going to lock
the boy in a closet until Albus agreed to take him away.
Malfoy had been somewhat useful, although he seemed to find the situation far
too amusing. He’d so far spent Sunday afternoon and after school every day in
Severus’ chambers talking to Harry and trying to explain things to him, though
he seemed perplexed as to why the other boy did not understand some of the
things that came up. One particular afternoon Severus’ had the distinct
pleasure of listening in on one of their conversations. He had no doubt Malfoy
intended it, "So, do you like him?" Severus scowled, having no clue as to who
‘him’ might be.
"Maybe." How precious, the Potter brat was blushing, skirting glasses at the
professor as though he were worried they were being listened to.
Draco nudged Harry’s shoulder to get his attention, "How ‘maybe?’ Either you do
or not."
Shrugging, Harry picked at the carpet, "Well, I feel different around him."
"Different how?" Let it never be said Malfoys weren’t persistent.
"Well, I get all tingly and warm inside. With Tom, it was..." So that’s who
they were talking about.
Standing up, Severus glowered at the two boy’s, noting Harry’s smile with
distaste, "Go, now, it’s nearly dinner time, and I’m sure your house mates miss
you."
Huffing at his professor, Draco didn’t bother to move, "My house mates could
give a rat’s..."
"Now, Malfoy." He pointed firmly at the door, waiting until Draco had left to
sit back down at his desk, grading the last of the essays.
Harry looked rather annoyed at having his entertainment taken away, but said
nothing, filling the time by continuing to tracing something into the carpet.
Severus dreaded dinner. He had managed so far to skip any breakfast and lunch
affair, as he had classes to teach, but Mimi was needed in the kitchens for
dinner and so there was no escape. The entire meal was passed with Harry poking
at his food, taking only occasional bites and continuously asking questions
about what it was.
Apparently Voldemort had preferred his pet to be vegetarian as well as
deplorably innocent, although, come to think of it, Severus had never seen the
Dark Lord eat meat either. Harry seemed to particularly like chicken. He wasn’t
so sure at first, stabbed it a few time and chewed it as though it were
something gone horribly wrong, but after he’d become used to the texture he was
ravenous for it. Beef was another matter. Harry threw up the beef shortly after
swallowing it, and Severus had been forced to try and be paternal, ordering
some tomato soup up for the evening and rubbing Harry’s back until the nausea
passed.
For his part Harry had enjoyed the soothing touches. He’d never been cared for
when he was sick, not by Tom. Tibby had brought him towels afterward, or
cleaned up any messes he may have made, but he’d never been stroked, and never
given more food if he’d failed to keep what he’d been given down. It almost
made him want to eat more so that he could be sick again for the attention
Among other things, he knew the fits he threw at night annoyed the man to no
end, but he’d never been left in a bed alone at night. The times Tom had been
away he had slept in his cage or not at all. His cage was a comfort, small, but
that made it easier to sleep. Severus bed was large, too large, it felt like he
was swimming in it. It was much to his relief when Severus finally gave in
after three days and just laid down with him, complaining that it did no good
for both of them to suffer. Harry got the feeling he missed his bed.
The clothes were an issue. Draco had insisted Harry keep the ones he had given
him and even gave him another set, one that Severus did not like at all, though
for Harry they felt far more comfortable. The pants were leather, tight around
the hips, and loose at the waist. It hugged his thighs, and while he generally
hated any form of restriction he found the familiar feel of leather comforting.
The shirt was yet again silk, which Harry liked much more than the cotton, it
only itched at the seams, but it was lacking buttons. Not that Harry minded,
but Severus kept telling him to button it up.
The entire first evening he’d worn the outfit, Draco had followed him around,
just staring, until Severus kicked him out, mumbling something about a Master
Bation, though he’d refused to explain who that was, no matter how many times
Harry asked, and no matter how he begged. He’d even gotten on his knees in
front of the man and still no results. The nature of such a position was not
lost of Harry, he had been in it many times, and not for begging. Well,
sometimes Tom liked it when he begged, but not often.
On Saturday, Harry woke, stretching against Severus, purposefully laying his
hand against the man’s navel, and letting his finger nail brush against the
skin. He delighted in the shiver he managed to coax out and continued to trace
around the abdomen for several seconds until Severus pushed his hand away,
"What do you think your doing?"
Harry looked up and smiled in what he hoped was a wicked fashion, Tom said he
was never very good at those, "Nothing, why?" When he got no reply, he lay his
head down on Severus’ stomach, breathing in the strong masculine scent, "I like
how warm you are."
It was strange, Harry could never remember instigating sex with Tom, unless it
was obvious his master wanted him to. But then, he could never remember going a
week without Tom wanting sex. In all honesty, Harry had no idea why he was
trying to now, why he did things he knew would drive Severus mad with want, but
he did them anyway.
With obvious reluctance, Severus pushed the boy off him and stood, going to his
drawers and pulling out robes, "I’ll be in Hogsmead today, you need clothes
and... things. Draco should be down shortly until then touch nothing, take a
bath and get dressed, or just stay in bed, but don’t mess with anything."
Harry laid on the bed, head resting in the crook of his elbow until he was sure
Severus had left, then he bolted from the bed and began to run the shower. Tom
had not had a shower, and Harry found that he thoroughly enjoyed the water
beating off his skin. By the time he emerged from the steam Draco was seated on
the now made bed holding Harry’s leather shorts by one finger, "Put these on!"
Blushing violently, Harry grabbed them from the other boy’s hand, and set them
on the chair next to the amour. He pulled the leather pants on, and button up
shirt. He was beginning to realize that certain things made him feel nervous,
like when the blond followed him around and stared at him, or suggested his
wear more revealing clothing. Draco said he was developing a modicum of moral
decency. He also said it like it was some vile illness, but Severus thought it
was good, and Harry wanted to please him, so he didn’t bother to analyze it
further.
They arranged themselves on the floor, Draco sitting against the sofa with his
legs crossed, and Harry on his stomach, ankles crossed in the air. He tried to
concentrate on the game Draco was teaching him, exploding snap, but every time
he looked up the blonde seemed to be in deep thought, staring at him as though
he were working a difficult puzzle.
"You were His pet weren’t you?"
Harry looked up form the game, confusion written on his face. "Tom’s pet."
"Is Tom You Know Who?" When Harry continued to stare blankly, "Voldemort,
Harry, were you Voldemort’s pet?"
Harry nodded, looking at the floor, "Yeah."
"Oh." Draco looked back at the game, "I can’t go home for Christmas. Father
says He’ll be looking for a replacement and he’s afraid He’ll pick me."
Shaking his head, Harry took his turn languidly, "No, that’s not right, you
aren’t what he needs."
"What he thinks he needs is sex."
"No, it’s not."
Draco stood up, sitting on the sofa, "How would you know? You were his fuck
toy."
Harry sat up onto his knees, "I was not his... what’s a fuck toy?" Draco raised
an eyebrow and Harry sighed, crossing his legs and concentrating, "I heard him
talking to Mister Lestrange once. He believes in what he’s fighting for, he
couldn’t have kept it up so long if he didn’t, but all the death and pain is
wearing him out. He told Lestrange he keeps me so that he’ll have something
innocent to come home to, something pure, something that isn’t tainted with his
hate. That’s what he needs. You aren’t like that, you try too much to be like
your father."
They sat in silence for a while, until, without warning, Draco started
laughing. Harry looked up, both relieved at the break in tension, and curious
as to what was so funny. For a moment, the other boy said nothing, then he
leaned closer, dropping his voice, "Severus is practically celibate, and as
much as I hate to lose my share of the bets, you’ll need help. Do you want to
know how to get him?"
When Harry nodded, Draco leaned closer, putting his mouth next to his ear.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2005. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
Severus was going to kill someone very soon. In fact, when he thought about it,
it had been far too long since he had, so now would be a good time. When he’d
gone into Hogsmead he had not anticipated that teenage clothes came in so many
shapes and sizes. Not to mention that when you asked what you could get a
fifteen year old boy to keep him occupied you quite often got laughed at;
although, one man did suggest porn.
In the end he’d gotten a wizards chess set and a few books that he thought
would be far more appropriate than anything he had in the dungeons. He’d also
gotten parchment for Harry to write on, or draw on, or something that didn’t
involve bothering him while he graded papers.
The clothes he’d come up with weren’t much better. He was entirely unsure of
Harry’s size, so he’d guessed and gotten a few white button ups, and black
pants. Preferably he would have gotten silk, but he was not sure he could
convince Albus that silk was absolutely necessary. What he did think he could
write off as necessary was the book on charms that could be used to keep small
children from taking their clothes off. It was meant for two and three year
olds, but when it came to keeping his clothes on, Harry was not much older.
He slipped through the door to his chambers, the packages would be sent to
Hogwarts later that evening and the house elves would ensure they got to his
room. After locking the door tightly, not sure whether he was trying to keep
Harry in or other students out, he turned around and immediately noticed both a
lack of light and a lack of Harry. The boy generally tackled him when he came
back in the evening.
Severus shook his head in mild disgust. It wouldn’t do to get used to habits
after only a week, he might become attached. Figuring the boy was probably
asleep, he slipped quietly into the bedroom, only stopped in mid stride as his
brain tried to register what his lower portions had almost instantly responded
to.
Harry was sitting on the bed in his customary fashion, on his knees, legs best
back, wearing only the button up shirt, and collar. He’d even taken the wrist
cuffs off. The small tattoo on his right wrist glistened in pale candle light.
There were fewer candles than normal lit, and Severus would very much have
liked to attribute his sudden erection to lighting, but he knew that wasn’t
all. Harry had sat like that, in those clothes more often than once, but for
some reason it was sudenly, and unmistakably erotic.
Getting up onto his hands and knees, Harry smiled. He’d never smiled that like.
When he’d smiled before his face had lit up and Severus had found himself
trying hard not to smile back, now all he could do was gulp and take a step
back, trying not to imagine what kissing the sultry mouth would feel like.
Harry lowered himself onto his stomach, still smiling, and brushed a strand of
his disarrayed hair behind his ear, "Hi, Severus."
The man felt his cock twitch between his legs at the way his name spilled from
between the pouting lips. With far more restraint than he thought he had left,
Severus walked toward the bed and laid his cloak around Harry’s bare legs and
ass, "Stop right now."
The lip went from a sultry pout to quivering in only an instant, "Don’t you
like?" When Severus didn’t answer, he sat up, pulling the cloak around himself
protectively, "Don’t you want me?"
Stepping back cautiously, he lowered himself into a chair and stared at the bed
apprehensively, "It is not a matter of whether I want you, Harry, I can not see
how you could want me."
Straightening up hopefully, the boy tried the smile again, though it came out
as innocent as it had the past week, "But I do, I do want you."
He held up a hand before Harry got up and took a deep breath, "I’m sure you
think you do. How many people have you slept with, Harry?"
Harry held up two meek fingers, "Two, Tom and Mister Malfoy. Mister Pettigrew
wanted to, by Tom caught him, and I had to wait in the bathroom. There was a
lot a of screaming." Harry paused, "He didn’t seem very interested after that."
Indeed, little Peter would not have been. When Black had caught and killed the
death eater two years ago they had been surprised at the number of old wounds
on him, scars and marks in themselves were not unusual, but castration was, and
according to the post mortem examination it had happened some years before,
more than three. Thinking of Black helped him to will away his erection,
specifically thinking about Black’s reaction when he found out Harry was alive,
even better, thinking about exactly how disappointed the Aurora would be when
he found out what his former best friend had tried to do and that he had not
been allowed to perform the castration himself.
Sighing with relief as his penis fell back into it’s natural place, Severus
concentrated on Harry. There had to be a way out of this, a way to convince
Harry he did not actually want to sleep with someone more than twice his age.
"Harry, did you like sleeping with them?"
Harry shook his head absently, as though there was nothing wrong with the
declaration, "Not really. I suppose it wasn’t unpleasant, not after a while,
but I didn’t want them like I want you. I wanted to please Tom, and I wanted to
do as I was told, but I didn’t want them."
Standing up, Severus walked across the room and sat next to Harry, slipping an
arm around the boy’s shoulders and trying to sound paternal despite his stiff
posture, "Harry, before you decide you want someone older, maybe you should try
with someone your own age. Maybe a girl."
When Harry scrunched up his nose in distaste and Severus couldn’t help but
chuckle, though he said nothing. After several moments of silence, Harry looked
up, "Severus, how do girls... do it?"
 
____________________
 
Harry lay in bed, his head on Severus broad chest, thinking over when Severus
had said. Girls were weird. He wasn’t sure he at all liked the sound of them.
Shifting his leg to wrap around the older man’s, he cuddled into the warmth as
Severus’ arm unconsciously slipping around his shoulders.
He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of girls. It sounded... messy, and dangerous
if they were as emotional and hard to predict as Severus’ said. When he thought
back it made sense. Sometimes when they were playing in the lawn one of them
would start crying and he could never figure out why. They also wore strange
clothes, sometimes frilly or bulky, and sometimes there wasn’t much to them at
all.
Breathing deeply, Harry let himself melt into half sleep. No, the thought of a
girl made his stomach knot up. He’d have to find a boy, an attractive boy,
because if he was going to have sex with someone other than Severus’ they might
as well be a what had Draco said a looker.
He wasn’t about to go scout the entire campus and face all those people on the
off chance that one of them might want to have sex with him. Severus said most
boys preferred girls, and he wasn’t even at all sure how to approach someone
about having sex. No, he needed someone male, attractive, that he already knew
liked boys, and that he already knew liked him.
 
____________________
 
Voldemort lay in the bed of his new accommodations at Malfoy Manor. He’d been
there for a week, and it was far too quiet. Much to his own disappointment he
found that he deeply missed his pet. But then, why shouldn’t he? He’d raised it
since it was a baby. There had not been a time in fourteen year he had not come
home to it. Even when sleeping it made noise, little keening noises as though
it were having a nightmare, or sometimes it would purr and mewl, clutching at
whatever was nearest.
The past weeks sleep had been his worst since he’d first brought it home. As a
baby it had been annoying at first, and Voldemort had questioned his own wisdom
in taking it, but Narcissa had, if nothing else, taught him patience, and now
he did not understand how he had ever slept without it there.
Feeling the sheets beneath his fingers he tried to imagine it’s body heat next
to him and he breathed in the coconut scent it had left on the sheet. Lucius
had returned to Riddle House two days after the attack to salvage what he
could. The Aurors had taken his books, maps, copies of plans, anything that
might help them, but they’d left the more material things behind. His pets
large chair, the one it would spent all afternoon in, looking through books. It
didn’t think he knew it could read, and always tried to hide books under the
seat cushion as though it had been doing nothing. The bed sheets had been
recovered, but the bed was too large to transport without someone noticing.
Voldemort had ordered they not be washed, not just yet.
The only other thing he’d insisted Lucius return with was the cage. He could
sense that it was not dead, like reading vital signs through the mark on it’s
arm, but the mark he had put on his pet was far weaker than that he’d given his
true servants. He’d never suspected he would have to track it, so he’d never
given the glittering serpent that particular charm.
Just when He was beginning to fall into pleasant day dream, imagining it curled
up close at his side, laughing softly as it sometimes did right before sleep,
the door burst open. Tibby came tumbling in, her large ears bent down, shaking
slightly at the foot of the bed, avoiding her master’s gaze. Lucius marched in
after her, his proud head held high, cane in hand, "I am sorry to disturb you,
Master, but the little elf has let something slip, haven’t you, Tibby?"
Tibby shook harder, mumbling about being a bad elf and punishments she was
promising herself. Voldemort stood from the bed, both annoyed and curious,
"What is he speaking of, Tibby? What have you done?"
Lucius smiled evily down at the little creature, "Tibby was told something a
few days ago. Something she should have told you. Weren’t you, Tibby?"
The elf sobbed and covered her face with her hands, "Tibby is a bad elf,
Master, but Tibby swore."
Voldemort crouched next to the elf and waited for it to look up, "What were you
told?"
She sniffed, wiping her nose on her pillow case, "It’s about Masters Pet, it is
alive." He narrowed his eyes at her, waiting with patience that can only be
learned from raising a child, "Master’s Pet is at Hogwarts."
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2005. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
Draco lay in his bed, booked propped against a pillow, lazily scanning the
pages. Being a Hogsmead weekend the others had left early that morning. As much
as he had wanted to go he was far more interested in catching up with his
studies and going to see Harry. It wasn’t just that he found him attractive,
either, he was funny, and he listened readily. It was probably the closest
thing Draco had ever come to having a real friend.
He sighed heavily as he heard the door behind him creak open, "Go away." When
there was no immediate response, he slammed the book shut, whoever it was knew
better than to come in while he was studying, "Look, it’s not my fault if
you..." He had turned around while speaking and the annoyed drawl quickly
drained from his voice, "Harry, what are you doing here?"
Harry was standing at his door, breathing rather hard, as though he’d been
running, back pressed against the heavy wood, "We have to have sex."
Draco blinked, suddenly unable to move. He’d assumed it had to be important if
Harry had made his way through the dungeons to find the Slytherin dorm. Not
only that but to get into them. It wasn’t that it was difficult, he just knew
Harry hated leaving Severus’ chambers, in fact, he stayed five feet from the
door at all time. But, they had to have sex? "Harry, not that I’m complaining,
but what are you talking about?"
Pealing his eyes off his friend, he looked around the room hesitantly, making
sure no else was around, before walking over to the bed and crawling up on his
hands and knees, "We have to have sex. You know, sex."
Draco backed himself into the headboard, Harry following him the entire way,
keeping them nose to nose, "I know what sex is, but why?"
Harry sat back, looking defeated, "Severus said that I should have sex with
someone my own age before I decide for sure I want him, and I know you like me,
so I just thought..."
He should have been torn. Really, it was a horrible choice to have to make.
Having sex with Harry would be taking advantage of the fact that he did not
understand it. He might think he did, but all he really understood was the
function, not the emotion behind it. Then again, he was a Slytherin for a
reason.
Not giving himself time to further analyze the situation, Draco dove forward,
planting his lips onto the other boy and immediately diving his tongue into
Harry’s half open mouth. As his tongue clashed against Harry’s he tasted
something small, metal and round, and pulled back staring openly while his mind
turned the information, "You have a tongue ring?!"
Harry stared back, not in the least phased. He nodded and stuck out his tongue,
revealing a small bar with a ball on each end sticking through his tongue.
"Yup, I wanted the nipple ring, but Tom wanted the tongue ring. He says it
feels good."
After a moment, Draco shrugged to himself, and grabbed the back of Harry’s
head, pulling him forward into a rough, deep kiss. Almost immediately Harry
responded, moving his mouth against Draco and leaning towards him. The blonde
worked his fingers into the hair at the base of Harry’s neck, slipping his
tongue between unresisting lips and using his free arm to pull the boy into his
lap.
Once there Harry seemed to fall into place like a puzzle. Grinding his hips
downward he was rewarded with a slight gasp from the taller boy, and repeated
the action, feeling his own erection growing steadily larger. Draco removed his
lips from Harry, both needing breath and wanting to taste his skin. Latching
onto the soft neck below the collar, he nibbled softly and then harder.
With a gasp Harry stopped and pulled back, his eyes wide and confused, though
by no means pained, "What was that?"
Draco pulled him back down, licking the spot and felt the shiver run up Harry’s
spine, "Does it bother you?"
Gripping the bed sheets Harry found himself boneless as Draco ran his nails
lightly down Harry’s back, "No, just never... oh god!"
Draco smiled to himself, he’d found Harry’s spot, towards the back where his
shoulder and neck met, "No one’s ever done that?"
"God, no, just don’t stop."
Breathing on the moist skin, Draco pushed Harry onto his back and kissed him
thoroughly before pulling back to enjoy the view of the flushed boy beneath
him, "Don’t worry, I have no intentions of stopping."
Harry clenched his fists into the sheets as Draco continued to suck on his
neck, pressing their bodies together, and unbuttoning Harry’s shirt as quickly
as his shaking hands would allow. Slowly, he began to work his way lower,
stopping to playfully bite at each nipple before continuing down his abdomen.
At the pant line, he looked up and waited till Harry looked down at him,
seemingly more curious than frustrated, “Has anyone ever done this?”
Harry looked at Draco for a moment, as though deciding the best course of
action, before nodding reluctantly. He grabbed the zipper with his teeth and
slowly pulled it down, never taking his eyes off Harry’s, “Who?”
Harry moaned softly as Draco continued finished unzipping and began working his
pants and boxers down his thighs. “Mister Malfoy, once.”
Draco raised an eyebrow, stopping for a moment before grinning wickedly, “Well,
now, if there’s one thing I might be better at than my father...” Dropping his
head down onto Harry and easing his throat to take him all the way into the
back of his throat, he delighted in the high pitched squeak that quickly turned
into a low moan as Harry clenched his fists even tight into the blankets.
After a few quick bobs of his head, he realized Harry’s bony hips while
attractive were dangerous and likely to hurt him if he kept bucking up every
time his cock hit the back of Draco’s throat. Slipping his arms under Harry’s
legs, the blonde gripped his hips and increased the pace.
Slipping Harry out of his mouth long enough to wet a finger he nearly giggled
at the desperate sounds coming from the boy’s mouth. As he latched onto the
cock in front of him again, he swirled his tongue around the head and played
with the underside, slipping a finger down the cleft and slowly eased it into
the waiting whole.
At the entry it clenched tight around him, squeezing as he worked it in and out
and added a second. Draco looked up for a moment, but Harry’s face showed no
pain, in fact, it surprisingly showed nothing, it was blank, as though he were
eating something tasteless, or reading a textbook. Draco frowned but set to
work trying to change that, hooking his fingers slightly and moving them around
in search of...
“Oh my god!!” Harry’s eyes opened wide, bright green and fogged over slightly
at the sudden flashed of pleasure. “What the hell was that?”
Draco did it again, pumping his fingers slowly and angling them to hit the
spot. “That’s why men willingly have sex with each other.”
Harry’s head dropped back to the pillow, his eyes rolling back into his head,
“God, whatever, just keep doing it.”
Pulling the fingers out with one more thrust, Draco moved up, and kissed Harry
sloppily, running his tongue around the inside of the other boy’s mouth as he
positioned himself for entry, “You ready?”
Rather than answer, Harry bucked forward, sucking the head of Draco’s cock
inside of him. The blond let his forehead drop onto Harry’s shoulder, taking
deep breaths to stop himself from cumming at the sudden tightness clenched
around him. Looking back up he saw the mischievous twinkle in Harry’s open eyes
and smiled back, “Little mink.” He wasn’t sure why, but he liked calling him
that, maybe it was the way, Harry acted, like a cuddly animal rather than a
fifteen year old boy. “How can you take it so easily and still be so tight?”
Harry bucked again, taking Draco halfway in and smiling brightly, “Practice.”
Draco dropped his head again as the Harry clenched muscles Draco didn’t even
know existed, “Stop that, or this is gonna be over before it really begins,”
When he’d gotten control of himself, Draco began to slowly push himself the
rest of the way in, and leaned forward, capturing Harry’s lower lip and biting
softly before deepening into a kiss and starting a slow thrust.
As he thrust into the spot he’d found before, Harry’s eyes flew open and his
hands left the sheets, clenching onto Draco’s lower back for a moment before he
let go. Draco looked at his apologetic eyes and took Harry’s hand, placing back
where it was, “You can touch me, you know.”
Harry started to smile weakly, but it dropped as Draco once again thrust into
him, “I’ll touch anything you want if you keep moving.”
Setting a steady pace, Draco tried to keep it slow, worried that he would
somehow hurt Harry. Despite whatever experience the smaller boy might have, he
was still smaller, and incredible tight, almost too tight. After a few minutes
of the agonizingly slow fuck, Harry finally gave in to his better judgement,
“Faster! Harder! God, please!”
Draco decided he wasn’t that worried and lifted Harry’s leg onto his shoulder,
bracing his hands on either side of the boy’s head. Once he was sure of his
balance he began again, speeding up with each thrust. The faster he sped up,
the tighter Harry clenched his muscles. Dropping onto his elbows, he sped up
more, grinding his lips onto Harry’s and reaching between their bodied,
stroking Harry each time he hit the prostrate, delighting in the way he
responded, tightening in those impossible places, squirming and moaning, “Don’t
need it. Draco, I’m gonna come.”
He didn’t stop, speeding up again, fucking at a near bruising pace as his
orgasm hit. He felt the warm semen splash onto his hand and slowed down,
milking himself and egging Harry’s orgasm on until he was sure they were both
finished. Dropping on top of the smaller boy he breathed heavily, “That was
incredible.”
Harry shoved him over onto his back, cuddling up next to him and closing his
eyes, murmuring his agreement as Draco stroked his hair languidly.
 
____________________
 
It was like having a cat sleeping next to him. Harry kept purring and pressing
his head against Draco’s chest, he’d been doing that for over an hour. The sex
had been nothing short of wonderful. Harry could do things with his body Draco
had never even dreamed of, and he had some rather vivid fantasies. Moaning
slightly at the memory, Draco shook Harry softly, "Wake up."
Harry gave of a soft sound, something between a groan of reproach at having to
open his eyes and a moan of pleasure as Draco’s hands tugged on the nipple
ring. "Why?"
"Cause you make too much noise when you sleep."
Lifting his head up, Harry gave Draco a sour look, "I do not."
"Do to."
"Do not."
Cupping Harry’s face between his hands, Draco kissed him, soundly, "Snape must
take a drought of the living dead if you don’t keep him up." Harry put his head
back onto Draco’s chest, pouting slightly as he cuddled closer. Draco ran his
fingers through his own mussed up hair and sighed, "Harry?" Harry looked up
slightly, not taking his cheek off Draco’s breast, "Would you mind telling me
about Voldemort? I mean, there’s a good chance I’ll end up in his bed this
summer, and I’d kind of want to know what to expect."
Looking back down and closing his eyes, Harry thought about it, "He’s nice.
Well, to me. I have board games, and my cage is huge, I can lay flat both ways,
and it’s soft. If I wanted something, all I had to do was ask. But there were
rules. I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone other than him, unless he told me to,
and I couldn’t leave the room, and I wasn’t supposed to read."
"But you do?"
Harry nodded, and closed his eyes, "He cares for me. Even if he knew I think
he’d just take all the books away rather than punish me."
"How did he punish you?"
Hot breath blew against his chest as Harry laughed, "I got spanked a few times,
but it was laughable at best, closer to foreplay than pain, or he’d attach the
cuffs to the bed and leave me there alone all day. At worst, I had to sleep in
my cage that night, and he seemed to hate that as much as I did."
With some difficulty Draco managed to quell his nausea at the thought of anyone
having to sleep in a cage. "Did you ever have to sleep with anyone else?" Harry
nodded, but seemed uncharacteristically silent, and a stone settled in Draco’s
stomach as he remembered what Harry had said earlier, "It was Father, wasn’t
it?"
After a moment, Harry sat up, "Yes. Just Voldemort and your father, no one
else."
Draco took a deep breath and propped himself up on the headboard, "Harry, were
you ever allowed to say no?"
For the first time that week, Draco saw Harry look floored, as though a he’s
been hit in the stomach by a rather fast broom. "No?"
"To sex? Did you ever say you didn’t want to?"
Harry stared at Draco as though he had gone mad, "Why would I?"
Shrugging the blond felt the nausea returned, "I don’t know, if you felt sick,
or you just weren’t in the mood. Didn’t he ever ask?" When Harry shook his
head, Draco took a long breath. His summer was looking worse and worse. Maybe
he could convince Dumbledore to keep him here. "Does talking about it bother
you?"
"Should it?"
"Maybe" Draco put his arm around Harry and pulled his head down into his lap,
stroking his hair, "Did you like it? Having sex with Voldemort, I mean."
Harry shrugged, moaning under his breath, "I don’t know. It wasn’t like just
now. I’ve never felt like that before. It hurt when I was younger, but I got
used to it. Now it doesn’t really feel like anything. It’s comfortable, I
suppose, normal, it makes me feel like everything is okay. But I don’t miss
it."
Draco tried to imagine Harry not feeling anything during sex, but gave up. He
had been so responsive, "How old were you when you first did it?"
After what felt like a long time, Harry answered, "I was eight when we started
having sex for real. But I always knew we would. He’d do things to help prepare
me for when I was old enough, he’d tell me what it would be like. When I was
six he let me suck him, because I wanted to. I teased him for days, licking my
food rather than just eating it. I wanted to make him happy, and he seemed to
really want it."
With a soft chuckle Harry nuzzled Draco’s cock through the covers, playfully
nipping at it as Draco had his neck. The blonde moaned in response and his hips
thrust slightly, "That’s not fair."
Harry pulled the covers back with his teeth, running his tongue around the
hardening length, "Why not?"
"Because you had sleep, god, just like that."
Humming around the erection, Harry pulled his mouth off it, dragging the tongue
ring up the underside, and sat in Draco’s lap, pulling the boy’s fingers around
his back and down to his ass, coaxing them to prepare him. Draco felt around
inside for the prostate and was rewarded when Harry clutched his shoulders
hard, digging his nails involuntarily into the flesh and sucking hard against
the neck.
After a few minutes of watching the body above him thrash around, Draco pulled
his fingers out and positioned himself, only to have Harry put a staying hand
on him, sudenly looking him in the eyes, a mischievous twinkle behind the
green, "No."
With a growl of frustration, Draco pushed him onto his back and lay above him,
looking down with a mixture of disbelief and pain, "You little minx, you meant
to do that!" Harry nodded
and Draco fell against him, breathing in the candy scent of his skin and trying
to will away his erection, though he knew it was impossible.
Leaning into Harry’s ear, Draco licked it once, enjoying the shudder he felt
against him, "Harry, if you don’t want me to fuck you, why don’t you fuck me?"
Before Harry could respond Draco flipped him over so that he was on top,
looking as shocked as he had at the prospect of saying no, "You want me to...?"
Draco pulled him down into a kiss and nodded. A grin began to spread on the
smaller boys face as he began kissing Draco again, and the blonde had to marvel
that if Harry was even half as talented at top as he was on bottom it was
likely to be the best fuck of his life.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
At first, Severus had been confused when he could not find Harry Sunday
evening. Confusion had quickly given way to worry, and it was only a short step
from there to outright fear. He tried, at the first, to tell himself he was not
at all worried about Harry, not afraid he’d been hurt; no, he was terrified
that Voldemort had found the boy and taken him back, because if Voldemort had
then that meant Severus had a very short time left to live.
In fact, he’d worked himself into a such a state, that it came as quite a shock
when he opened his eyes to find bright green staring at him, "Severus, why are
you sleeping on the couch?"
It took a few moments for him to assess the situation. Apparently, he’d fallen
asleep reading. Harry was now straddling his lap, leaning over him with elbows
on either side of his head. Putting a hand on Harry’s chest he sat up and
looked around the room. He spotted Draco, standing next to the door with his
arms across his chest, "He refused to come back alone, too many people in the
commons room."
As the meaning of Draco’s words set in he looked back at Harry, who suddenly
seemed very proud of himself, "You were in the Slytherin dorms?" He nodded
enthusiastically, and Severus narrowed his eyes, "Why?"
The deep blush that crimsoned Harry’s cheeks told him he really did not want to
know. Looking up at his student, he noted Draco smirking back at him.
Definitely what he thought, no Malfoy went around with that many hairs out of
place if he hadn’t just gotten laid. In fact, even getting laid didn’t
subsequently lead to messed up hair and untucked shirts, it had to be a really
good lay.
Draco stretched, reaching his arms as far above his head as he could, "You two
have a wonderful evening." Winking at his professor, he turned around, stopping
before he shut the door behind him, "And professor, don’t get mad at him for
doing what you told him to."
Harry turned abruptly to Severus as the door closed, "You aren’t mad, are you?"
Severus sighed and stood up, helping Harry stand as he did so, "I did not mean
for you to go sleep with the first person that came to mind."
Harry felt the ache return to his chest, "But I don’t know anyone else my own
age."
Leading him into the bedroom, Severus pushed him towards the bed as gently as
possible considering his aggravate state, "I was hoping you would wait until
you got to know some."
He scrunched his nose up, and wiggled under the covers, watching Severus walk
into the bathroom, "But I..." However, he wasn’t sure how to explain it, so he
turned around, and pulled the covers up to his chin miserably. He had just
wanted Severus to be okay with it, wanted him to understand that it was what he
wanted, that it had nothing to do with his experience.
Willing away the tears he could feel pricking at his eyes, Harry closed them
and tried to get to sleep.
 
____________________
 
The next morning, Severus slipped from the bed and out of Harry’s intertwined
limbs as quickly and quietly as possible. He’d had enough time to think the
night before, and in the interest of fairness he could not be angry at Harry.
The boy had probably never been given an ultimatum his entire life, of course
he would not know how to handle it.
Besides, the night before he had been far more angry with Harry for leaving the
dungeons without telling him, than the fact he had slept with Malfoy. What he
needed now, was to talk to his promiscuous student and set a few things
straight.
Unfortunately potions for Slytherin did not come until the last class of the
day, and so he sat as patiently as possible through the incompetence of his
other classes. It was like watching an axe slowly fall towards a helpless
victim, every moment was longer than the last. When the fifth year Slytherin’s
finally piled into the room, along with the Gryfindors, Malfoy was still
wearing a slight smirk on his face that radiated ‘I just had brilliant sex.’
Severus tersely gave out the ingredient list, instructing them to follow the
instructions in the book and sat down at his desk to wait for the end of class.
When his figurative axe finally dropped, he was so pent up, he nearly forgot
himself and yelled for Malfoy to stay behind. He didn’t seem to have to,
though, because the smug brat just sat at his desk while he they filed out,
smirking and staring, as though daring him to say anything.
When the last student had left, shooting apprehensive looks at the two of them,
he threw a sound proof charm on the door and walked over to Malfoy, staring
down in an attempt to be intimidating, "What, may I ask, possessed you to have
sex with him?"
Shrugging, Malfoy smiled broadly, "I have no clue, but it was the best decision
of my life." When Snape’s scowl deepened, looking as though he were trying to
come up with a decent curse, Draco’s entire mood changed, as though he had
snapped and he seemed to glow defensively. "I did it because he asked, and he
asked because you told him to."
Before Severus could so much as open his mouth, the boy stood up, hands still
pressed against the desk, "Why did you tell him to do that anyway? You are the
first person he’s ever wanted in his entire life and the first thing you do is
tell him to go fuck someone else first? What did you think he would do, wait a
few months and get over it?"
Severus stared, taken aback by Malfoy’s tone. The boy had always been so
flippant, "I was trying to keep him from making a mistake."
Draco no longer cared that this was his teacher. Before dropping Harry off he’d
dragged nearly every detail of his childhood from him, and despite better
judgement he’d found himself becoming possessive. It wasn’t the normal
possessive either, he didn’t see Harry as a lover, he thought of him as a soul
mate, a companion. "You should be far more worried about your own mistakes."
He picked up his bag and started for the door, but Snape grabbed his arm, "What
exactly do you mean by that?"
Looking back defiantly, Draco stood up as straight as possible, inwardly hoping
that it looked intimidating, "Did you know he’s never been cared for? He thinks
he has, and in the matter of material goods, sure, but he never had anyone to
tell him he was doing good unless it was about sex, or told he’d be alright.
It’s much the same way my father treats me, only I don’t have to give sexual
favors, and I don’t sleep in a cage."
"Did you know he preformed oral sex when he was six? He wanted to, he begged
for it, because the only time You Know Who ever praised him was when he took a
finger up the ass without complaint, and he wanted to be praised. He wanted to
be good. He had sex when he was eight, and he cried, just the pain, not because
he was eight, and he was being forced to do something he thought he had to,
whether he wanted it or not. He cried because it hurt, and You Know Who told
him he was good, patted him on the head and went to sleep. He wasn’t held, his
tears weren’t wiped away, and he wasn’t comforted, just told he was good."
"He had never enjoyed sex until last night. But you know, that doesn’t mean he
wanted it? I thought it did, hoped even, but he didn’t." Draco felt his chest
tighten as he remembered the look on Harry’s face when he’d said ‘no,’ he had
gone from appearing to be in the throws of passion to childish, no trace of
lust. He had been able to turn himself off like a switch because while he was
enjoying himself, he had not wanted it. Draco somehow doubted Harry would be
able to turn himself off with Snape.
"He wants you, you can hurt him, and you can make him feel, really feel. In
fact, I envy you that, but I can’t help feeling sorry for Harry, because your
going to a break his heart before he even realizes he has one."
Malfoy took the advantage of having stunned his professor to make his exit in
the Malfoy fashion, dramatic with his back straight and his head held high,
slamming the door behind him. Not that Severus was paying attention, he was
busy turning the information over in his head, half wishing he hadn’t heard it,
half knowing Malfoy was right.
 
____________________
 
Draco stopped outside the door, breathing deep, dropping his imperial stance
for one of deflation. It had hurt to admit out loud that Harry didn’t want him,
hurt far more than just the realization or the thought. Pushing off the wall he
hadn’t realized he was leaning against, he made his way through the maze of
halls that were like a home to him.
He hadn’t been lying when he had said his father treated him that way. It had
been somewhat of a shock to find out that rather than call his son home and
hand him over with a bow around his neck Lucius was instead keeping him away
for as long as possible. Maybe somewhere very deep down his father was fond of
him.
Stopping at Snape’s door, he said the password softly and shut the door behind
him before anyone could see. Harry was sitting on the floor next to the house
elf, glumly playing wizards chess as though it were a sculpture of hippogryf
dung. Seeing Draco, his frown seemed to deepen, "He’s mad at me."
Draco put his bag down and sat next to Harry, wrapping an arm languidly around
his shoulders, "He’s not mad at you, he’s mad at me, he just took it out on
you."
Harry scrunched up his nose in distaste, having lost interest in the game, "You
can go now, Mimi, Draco’s here to watch me." Mimi gave Harry a worried look,
but popped off to the kitchens without saying anything. Once she was gone,
Harry put his head down against Draco, "I don’t understand. If he isn’t mad at
me, why would he act like it?"
Shrugging, Draco shoved himself up onto the couch, laying down and motioning
for Harry to lay on top of him, "People do that sometimes. He hadn’t had time
to think it through, and you were there, so he just decided to be angry with
you. Trust me, he had a few hours to think about it and he went straight for my
throat."
"Are you okay?" Harry got onto the sofa, straddling Draco’s lap, and looking at
his neck.
The blonde laughed and pulled him down, "No, not like that, figuratively. It
means he tried to yell at me. You shouldn’t feel bad about it, it wasn’t your
fault. If anything I shouldn’t have agreed." Draco cringed as he said the
words. Of course he should have, he was Slytherin, that was what he did. He
took advantage of people to make himself more comfortable. Hell, just being a
Malfoy dictated that much.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed, "Sometimes I wish Tom would just come get me.
At least everything makes sense when I’m with him, I don’t feel like I’m on the
outside looking in."
"No, of course not, you were on the inside looking out, weren’t you?" His head
snapped up at Draco’s sarcastic tone. "It’s no different here than it was
there, you just know it now. You’ll figure things out, it’s not that hard, give
it time."
Harry let himself sink into the other boy’s body, closing his eyes once again.
Draco smiled against Harry’s sweet smelling hair, "You know what?" He more felt
than heard the mumble against his chest, and chuckled, "I think you just need
to be persistent."
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2005. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
Had he not known better, he would have thought they were sleeping angels. Harry
lay on top of Malfoy in his leather pants and white shirt, the one with no
buttons. It had slinked up to his waist, and fallen off the shoulders,
revealing a tantalizing amount of pale skin. His head was nuzzled into Malfoy’s
chest, and his arms were tucked up against himself.
Malfoy had his face buried in Harry’s messy hair, one arm around his waist,
fingers languidly laid against the overly silk smooth skin, his other hand
seemed to have found it’s way into the back pocket of Harry’s pants, helping to
secure their tenuous position on the couch.
Severus closed the door as softly as possible, but at the slight clicking sound
Harry’s eyes flew open and he stared for a moment before breaking into a smile,
stumbling off the couch and across the room. "Mister Severus!"
Draco sat up, a slight jealous glint to his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as
it had appeared and he stretched out, "Good luck getting him to sleep,
Professor. Night, Harry."
As soon as the door had closed, Severus pushed Harry away from him and held him
at arms length, "Harry, you’ll have to stop jump me when I come in the door."
Harry shook his head, but didn’t attempt to come forward again as Severus let
go of his arms. Watching the boy carefully, he looked around the room for the
house elf. Malfoy had probably asked her to leave so he could be alone with
Harry. An uncharacteristic pang hit him in the stomach and he looked at Harry
again. Unlike the evening before, he was not flushed, or looking self assured,
he seemed every bit as much the child he was not.
It was hard, in face of such an innocent smile, to remember that Harry had
spent his entire life performing sexual favors, that it came second nature;
that everything Malfoy had said was true, because he had no delusions as to
what Voldemort would have done with such a beautiful pet. It was also much
harder not to notice how beautiful Harry was as he stood there, fully awake,
his arms behind his back, his shirt half falling off. He seemed more a creature
born for sex than a child.
Putting a hand back on Harry’s shoulder he led him into the bedroom. By the
lack of sexual pheromones coming from him, Harry must have taken a bath at some
point, so he helped the boy onto the bed and handed him one of the overly large
cotton night shirts he had bought in Hogsmead. He noted the predictably
disgusted look that Harry gave the offending material as Severus pulled his own
robes off and went into the bathroom to prepare for bed.
Part of him noticed that in such a short time simple things had become habit,
things they did without talking, without instruction. Walk Harry to the bed,
let him get dressed and lay down while Severus went to the bathroom because it
was inappropriate to change in front of the boy, come back, get under the
covers, give an annoyed grunt, that was as much uncontrollable as Harry’s
scrunched noses at the sight of cotton, when the small body curled around his.
In reality, in some portion of his mind, he knew he did not mind the contact,
he would be far more displeased had Harry turned away.
He was vividly reminded of how routine things had become as Harry reached down
under covers, lightly brushing against something that was far from normal.
Opening his half closed lids, Severus turned and saw Harry’s green eyes,
twinkling in delight, "Draco said I should be persistent."
Severus moved Harry’s hand, keeping eye contact, trying to convey that he was
serious, "The Malfoy brat is nothing short of insolent."
Harry hooked his leg around Severus’ hips and sat up. He’d not changed shirts,
leaving on his open front silk, but he had taken off his pants. "He said you’d
say that."
Shoving Harry onto the bed, Severus looked at him sternly, "Then he’ll have
told you I was serious."
"He did." Severus’ was caught off guard long enough for Harry to get his hand
under the covers again, despite protest, "He also said you would cave if I kept
it up long enough."
Much to Severus’ disappointment he felt his arousal growing and knew Malfoy was
once again right. He could only hold out for so long, the other night had just
about killed him. With a guttural growl he pulled Harry on top of him, holding
the boy’s wrists above the cuffs, "Harry, listen to me, you are fifteen, far
too young for me to be having sex with."
"Tom’s older than you. How can I be too young for you, but not for Tom?
Severus took several deep breaths as Harry shifted above him, inadvertently
rubbing his cock through his night shirt. A sudden smirk told him that not only
had that been his intention, but he had been spending far too much time with
young Malfoy. "He has no morals, I do."
"Morals?" Slipping off Severus’ lap, he crossed his legs, his entire demeanor
changing to one of interest, "What are morals?"
It should have been cute, endearing even, but in light of the situation,
Severus found it more annoying than either of those, "Morals are the inner part
of us that tell us what is wrong and what is right. Voldemort has none, he
feels right or wrong should not apply to him. I do, and I can not go against
everything I have ever believed."
Harry scrunched his nose up, working through the information, "I don’t
understand. If you’re a death eater, don’t you believe in the same things Tom
does?"
Severus stopped breathing for a moment, "Harry, I am a spy. I pretend to
believe in Voldemort so that I can tell Dumbledore what he’s planning."
"So you lie."
After a moment turning it around in his head, he gave up, "Yes, I lie. However,
I do it to save lives. I tried to save your parents, but I failed, and I regret
that. But there are hundreds of people I and other spies have saved, people who
would have otherwise died at His hands. Those people do not deserve to die,
just as you do not deserve to be treated as a pet."
Lifted his hand to Harry’s face, he touched it and watched the boy close his
eyes, leaning into the palm, "You deserve to be touched," He pulled him down
and ghosted his lips over Harry’s, "kissed, loved, comforted, you deserve to be
treated like a person."
Severus could hardly believe himself, his tone of voice was soft, affectionate,
his words were tender. He found himself feeling light headed, and out of
control, something he could safely say had never happened. In the face of
torture, he held his ground, with people dying around him, he had kept his
head, in sex and pain and anguish and guilt, he had never felt as though he
were falling and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
A small tear ran down Harry’s cheek, though the blissful expression had never
changed, "Severus, please love me. I want you to, I need you to. Show me what
it’s like, please."
Pulling the boy down onto the bed, he wrapped his arms around him from behind
and nuzzled his neck, unable to control the affection, "I’ll show you love,
Harry, but I will not simply have sex with you. Love is not about sex, it is
about caring. Trust me to show you that."
He kissed the boy’s neck and absently moved his free hand around to brush the
few tears from his faced, "You may be physically ready, but the act of making
love is very different from random sex, and I won’t take that from you until
I’m sure you are ready to experience it properly. When the time is right, we
will, when you understand it, when you are ready."
Sighing, Harry curling his fingers around the hand, "Promise you’ll tell me
when I’m ready?
Severus chuckled into the messy hair and kissed it affectionately, amazed at
his own tenderness, "Promise."
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
"Still??!!" Draco dropped the chess piece he’d been holding, his mouth slightly
open in shock. "It’s been three weeks! Have you ever gone three weeks?"
Harry frowned, "No, but it’s not so bad." He looked over to make sure Mimi was
out of ear shot.
Draco picked his knight up and moved it, sighing heavily, "The way he’s been
acting lately, especially today, I was sure." Giving Harry a dramatic look,
Draco leaned forward, as though saying something horrible, "The Gryfindor
Weasley blew his cauldron up, it was his fault and everything, and Snape only
took twenty points, didn’t even give him detention." His tone was the same one
he used when noting Harry’s modesty, "All the talk is that he either got laid
or killed someone. Knowing you, I put my money on laid."
Harry giggled and moved his queen, watching raptly as it slaughtered the
bishop. Shooting glances at Mimi, who was setting up their lunch, he leaned
forward and lowered his voice as Malfoy had, "Well, I’m not supposed to tell
you, but, we messed around."
Draco raised one eye brow, "Messed around how?" When Harry blushed, the blonde
quickly became interested, and leaned forward, "Come on, you have to tell me
about my teachers sex life so I have something to laugh about in class." Harry
shook his head again and Draco slit his eyes dangerously, "Harry, either you
tell me, or I will have to interrogate you."
The last time there had been an interrogation was the night after Severus and
him had the talk. It had consisted of ten minutes of brutal tickling, in which
Harry had given up and told because he couldn’t breath anymore. Gulping
heavily, he shot a glance at Mimi who was trying her best to appear as though
she weren’t paying attention, though he had no doubt she was. Tibby had always
appeared as though she weren’t paying attention, right before she stopped him
doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
Seeing the expectant smirk on Draco’s face he leaned forward and cupped his
hand around his mouth, whispering. Five seconds later Draco pulled back, eyes
wide with disbelief, "That’s all? Three weeks of celibacy and all he can do is
wank you off?"
Harry blushed deeper, shooting glances at Mimi who looked as though her eyes
may fall out of her head if she didn’t keel over from shock first. Looking at
the board, he tried not to be so embarrassed. A month ago it wouldn’t have
mattered, now it did, and he still wasn’t sure why. "It’s not so bad. I mean,
I’d like to, I can hardly wait, but he said he’d tell me, so..."
Draco rolled his eyes, "Really, Harry, you are so naive sometimes."
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
Draco made another move, only to see a triumphant smile on Harry’s face and
wish he could take it back, "It means that when I said persistent, I did not
mean give up after the first try." Harry leaned over the board, getting a good
look as the king gave up. "You really enjoy it when I lose, don’t you?"
Grinning childishly, Harry nodded, "It’s different than the set Tom gave me,
more violent. And besides, I like winning against a real person. And I have
tried to get him to do stuff since, he just won’t."
"Have you actually asked since then?"
Harry looked up, shock written on his face, "Ask?"
Getting up his hands and knees, Draco put his face as close to Harry’s as he
could, "Yes, Harry, ask. I’d imagine that if he’s confident enough to feel you
up he might be a little more open to the suggestion of having sex."
A small gasp sounded throughout the room, followed by a heavy thud, and the two
heads turned, nearly cheek to cheek, to see Mimi, passed out on the floor next
to their lunch.
 
____________________
 
Severus stood in the bathroom brushing his teeth, after having put Harry to
bed, "Harry, do you have any idea what was wrong with Mimi?"
Harry looked up from the book he’d been flipping through, his face far too
innocent, "No! We were playing chess, and I’d won, and she fainted."
Scowling at the boy, he watched Harry’s face carefully, but apparently his
glare had less effect on the boy than students and he gave up, sliding under
the covers instead. As they assumed what he had reluctantly consented to be
their usual sleeping arrangement, he could not help but notice how stiff Harry
was, laying against him as though he were preparing for something, "Severus?"
He looked down at Harry but the boys eyes were staring straight ahead,
desperately focused on Severus’ chest, "What’s wrong?" When he said nothing,
Severus tilted Harry’s face up to look in his eyes, "Do you want me to sleep on
the sofa tonight?"
Relief washed over him as he saw the horror on Harry’s face. As much as he
wanted him, he did not want to take advantage of the fact that Harry was overly
submissive and not likely to express discomfort no matter how bad things got.
He had slept in a cage for fourteen years and talked as though he missed it.
Harry snuggles closer, drawing shapes with a manicured finger nail on the
professor’s stomach, "Severus, do you think we could... you know, have sex?"
Looking down at the messed hair, he fruitlessly brushed a few strands into
place, "It wouldn’t be just sex, Harry, it would be making love, and there is a
difference. Sex is physical gratification, making love requires an emotional
element."
Harry sat up, swinging his leg around Severus’ body and straddling his hips in
a now familiar, spry move that denoted youthfulness. "I want that, I want you.
I want to understand what you mean when you say ‘make love,’ I want you to show
me he difference."
After a moment, Severus pulled him down into a kiss. It wasn’t like the chaste
kisses they’d shared before, even after Severus had, as Draco so eloquently put
it, ‘wanked him off’ they had never kissed like this. It sent little explosions
all over his body, instantly hardening him against the older man’s stomach.
When Severus’ pulled back Harry felt light headed, his lips bruised, his body
on fire, and all he could think was that he wanted more. Draco had been nice,
it had felt good, but it hadn’t felt like this, and that was just a kiss.
Staring down at Severus he saw the man studying his face, as though analyzing
the situation, and felt himself growing warmer, needing more. Leaning forward
he pressed their foreheads together, "More."
Without waiting for further instruction, Severus sat up, wrapping an arm around
Harry’s waist and kissing him again, using his free hand massage the back on
Harry’s neck around the collar. He pushed a finger under the buckle and played
his thumb over it a moment before pulling back, "Harry, can I take the collar
off?"
Looking at Harry’s eyes, bright with passion, he saw the understanding. Taking
off the collar was admitting Tom would not come for him, worse yet that he
didn’t need Tom. It meant giving up what he had always felt as control, knowing
that someone would take care of him. Simply putting on another one would have
been easy, outright taking it off and leaving him bare of ownership was much
harder.
For what felt like eternity they stared at each other, Harry turning over in
his mind whether he wanted Severus enough to give up his entire world and
everything he knew, or what was left of it, and Severus becoming quickly afraid
that he would not be willing to.
Very slowly, Harry reached behind his head, taking Severus’ hand off the
leather and unbuckling it himself, letting it fall to the bed and staring at
it. Tom wasn’t coming, he was not a pet. Harry looked at it a moment longer
before he started crying. It made sense. Everything everyone had said made
sense, and it was all wrong. Tom had cared for him, but now he wasn’t coming,
he hadn’t cared enough to come. He had fed him, given him things, made him
happy, but he had made him a pet, less than human, less than loved.
Severus wrapped his arms protectively around Harry, kissing him, working his
tongue around the boy’s mouth, tasting his tears, and breathlessness. Harry
gripped Severus’ hair fiercely with one hand, "Need you, want you, please,
don’t stop."
Severus shook his head, "Never, Harry."
He pulled the loose fitting nightshirt over the boy’s head, rubbing his hands
down Harry’s back, feeling the skin under his fingers shiver. Harry buried his
face in Severus’ neck, breathing in his hair. His body seemed to become hotter
with each brush of skin against skin. He needed more, more of Severus’ against
him.
Fumbling with the few buttons, he felt the older man’s chest move when he
chuckled and whimpered as Severus’ pushed him away slightly to discard of his
own clothes. Before he could even throw it over the bed Harry was on him again,
kissing his mouth, his neck, lower, pressing him into the bed, eager and hot
against him.
Severus’ let out a low moan as Harry licked the inside of his thigh. He slowly
ran his tongue up the underside of Severus’ cock, much as he had Draco’s three
weeks ago with one large exception. This felt like something. It wasn’t some
tasteless, necessary act to get something he wanted. He wanted Severus, he
wanted to taste him, to make him moan, to make him grab the back of his head
and loose control with passion just for him, for what he could do.
Taking the cock down to the back of his throat he relaxed his well trained
muscles and allowed it to slip past, massaging it with his tongue, pressing the
small ball into the sensitive flesh and rubbing it around. He felt fingers
working gently into his hair, not demanding, just needing. His own fingers had
found purchase on Severus’ hips, both holding him still and keeping himself
grounded.
Pulling up, he sat astride the man, looking down, “Please?”
Severus pulled Harry up for a moment before letting him sink down onto the
waiting erection. Harry closed his eyes, hands braced against Severus’ chest,
feeling like he might start crying again. It felt. It wasn’t just something, it
was Severus inside him, warm and pulsing, filling every inch of willing space.
When Severus was deeply seated in Harry, and the boy’s breathing had slowed
somewhat, he sat up halfway, leaning against the headboard and wrapping his
arms around Harry’s waist and shoulders. Kissing the boy, he ran his tongue
around the eager mouth, letting the boy take the lead and begin the slight
movements, both drinking the whimpers and moans that issued from the others
mouth.
As the passion built, Severus gripped the back of Harry’s neck and pushed him
onto his back, brushing dark hair from the bright, staring eyes, taking in
their beauty as he began thrust, slowly at first, and then in earnest, Harry’s
legs wrapped around his waist, fingers digging painfully into his back.
As he felt his orgasm stir, he reached between them, kissing Harry and stroking
him hard as he thrust, bringing them to climax, screaming each others name.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
Severus sat in first period, pretending to grade the papers in front of him
while trying very hard not to look too pleased with himself. If he wasn’t
careful the uncharacteristic, stupid grin he’d caught himself wearing first
woken would plaster itself on his face again, and the last thing he needed was
to give young Malfoy more betting ammo.
That morning, as he’d been getting ready, Harry had broken into fits of
laughter, curling himself around one of the larger pillow to muffle the sound.
He’d had the common decency to be reluctant when Severus asked him about it,
however, reluctant apparently meant he only had to be asked twice.
Since then Severus had been trying not to act as though he’d just had possible
the most brilliant sex in his entire life after a year of celibacy. He was also
trying to figure out who was taking the bets, and he already had his
suspicions. Sensing someone staring, he discreetly scanned the room out of the
corner of his eye and saw a first year girl looking back, chewing the end of
her quill. Great, the first years were probably in on it too.
Lifting his head he plastered what he hoped was an intimidating glare on his
face and stared back. He hadn’t wanted to make her cry, he was trying not to
smile at her because, besides ruining his reputation, Malfoy would know for
sure what had happened if he started grinning like a fool at first years.
Whether he was trying to or not, however, the young girls bottom lip began to
quiver as she shot out of her desk and through the door, loud sobs echoing down
the corridor. Now, that might just work.
Draco trudged down the hall towards Snape’s chambers as the bell to what should
have been his last class rang. Having heard that the number of girls his
potions professor had made cry that day was closer to twenty, he was beyond
baffled. The man had broken his own personal record, set back when he first
started teaching, before Dumbledore had pulled him aside and told him that
wasn’t exactly the most prudent way to go about it.
Quickly glancing up and down the passage way to ensure he was alone, he
whispered the password and slid in, looking around the room. Usually Harry was
wide awake by now, anxiously trying to keep himself busy until Draco showed up.
A sudden murmur from the couch caught his attention, and he saw Harry, curled
up, wet hair hanging in his face, mouth slightly open, squeezing his fists up
against his face. Draco walked over to the sofa and sat down, chin on the
cushion next to Harry’s head, and watched him. His friend’s eyes were puffy,
cheeks and nose blotchy with red, and he kept sniffing. It was almost as though
he’d been crying. Shaking the other boy’s shoulder gently, he waited for Harry
to open his perfect emerald eyes, questioning gaze immediately replaced with
one of surprise, "Draco, what are you doing here? Mimi said she’d wake me when
classes were over. Did something happen to her?"
Draco shook his head an pushed a stray strand of black hair behind Harry’s ear,
"Harry, were you crying?"
Harry looked, for a moment, as though he wasn’t sure what Draco was talking
about, but then understanding crept into his face and he nodded, "Oh? Oh, yeah,
I did. Is that wrong?"
"What happened?"
Harry’s body seemed to go entirely limp as he drew his knees against his chest
and wrapped his arms around them, blushing vividly against his pale skin, "We
made love."
For a moment Draco could only think Harry had somehow been getting into the
trash romance novels. Then it hit him. They had sex. They had sex and Harry
cried, and Snape was possible in the worst mood he had ever been throughout his
entire teaching career, "Harry, did he hurt you?"
Shaking his head vigorously, Harry smiled blissfully, "No, it was wonderful."
"Then why were you crying?" Harry lifted a his hand up to his throat, perfect
finger nails brushing against the bare, smooth skin. "Oh, the collar’s gone."
Harry nodded, his face downcast for the moment as he held out his wrist,
showing Draco the loose fitting leather cuff still wrapped around it, "I don’t
want to take this off just yet, because of the tattoo, but Severus says he’ll
get me something smaller and less... less demeaning."
It all clicked. Trust Snape to find a way to break fourteen years of training
that lead to mind shattering sex. Draco refused to believe anything other than
mind shattering could make a self respecting male call it ‘making love.’
Another thought struck him as well, and he clenched his fist, slapping it into
an open palm in frustration. Who was to say Snape wasn’t having the time of his
life? Who was to say that his way of showing how happy he was led to crying
first years? Dammit, he could just see the look on the Weasley twin’s faces
when they collected in the morning.
Harry scrunched his nose up and leaned forward, "What’s wrong?"
Sitting back on his feet, Draco shrugged, "Lost another bet."
"Severus says you gamble too much."
The blonde’s head snapped up, and he found that no matter how many times he
opened and closed his mouth, it didn’t seem to work. Closing it altogether, he
took a few deep breaths, "You told him?" Harry nodded slowly, his eyes a little
wider as he began to expect retribution. "Did you tell him what we were betting
on?"
Harry didn’t even have to nod, the apologetic glance was more than enough
answer. They stared at each other for a few minutes until an evil glint sparked
in Draco’s grey eyes. Harry stopped smiling shyly, realizing exactly what it
was the other boy was thinking. He gave a rather undignified squeak and began
scrambling over the back of the sofa in a vain attempt to get away from Draco’s
cruel revenge tactics.
Within moments he found himself behind the couch, on his back with the blond
above him. Draco straddled Harry’s bucking hips, effectively pinning him as he
tickled, "You are going to have to learn that there are some things you do not
tell my potions professor."
Harry kicked his feet against the floor, twisting and trying to protect his
sides from attack, "Draco, please, I can’t breath!"
The two boy’s, laughing and writhing on the floor, were so caught up their game
that neither heard the door open.
 
____________________
 
Voldemort had been watching it for a while now, and until Malfoy’s brat had
come in, he’d been feeling much more relaxed and in control than he had for a
month. In fact, that very morning he’d been telling himself he might have to
torture the young prisoner Malfoy had caught to relive his pent up stress.
The past three weeks had been trying at best, closer to hell. Lucius had
suffered hours of various torture convincing the Dark Lord that assembling all
death eaters and storming Hogwarts was not the best course of action,
especially considering that they were on the decline and Malfoy Manor would not
serve well as a base of operations.
Lucius could be an intelligent man when his life or fortune was on the line,
and he knew that unless he came up with a working plan in a relatively short
time he would probably be looking at the wrong end of Avada Kedavra. So, he’d
spent the last weeks neglecting his work at the ministry and plotting the best
way to get inside Hogwarts and retrieve his master’s pet.
The plan, when it was finished, was brilliant. Only three spells were needed,
one of which was not even cast on him. The first left him little more than a
specter, an invisible ghost, unable to touch or smell, but it also gave him
ability to walk through walls. The second spell was of a cloaking nature.
Hogwarts defenses were highly sensitized, and a cloaking spell in itself would
do nothing, but when combined with the other it was impossible to detect
whether a person had entered the facility until they were taken off.
The third spell had been so simple Voldemort had found it humorous. A timed
portkey. It had been so obvious that it had taken Lucius until two days ago to
realize it. Hogwarts was warded against apparition, and it just had not
occurred to any of them that a simple little portkey could work.
So at eight a.m that morning, as the students were settling into first period
and there were only a few stragglers left in the hall, Voldemort had made his
way down the familiar corridors to Snape’s chambers. Passing through door into
the rooms usually occupied by the head of house, he had, at first, been
anxious, however, according to Lucius the few objects he passed through the
less chance something would go wrong with the spell, so he had remained
standing by the fireplace, waiting for it to make an appearance.
Not ten minutes later, he’d felt all the pent up anxiety from the month spill
out of him as it entered the room, hair dripping wet around it’s pale, delicate
features, sniffing childishly as it lay on the couch and curled into a ball,
hands held protectively at it’s face.
He wanted to sit next to it and brush the wet strands away from the eyes, get a
clear look at it’s face, breath in the intoxicating scent, but that could wait.
All of that could wait until the portkey shook in his pocket letting him know
it was time to take the spells off, minutes from time to leave.
Part of him was cursing Malfoy for having set the damn thing to take so long -
the timing on the portkey had been debatable, but there was chance it was not
in Snape’s chambers, and if that were the case the extra time would be needed -
another part was reminding him that his rage had been so great he would most
likely never have gotten inside the walls.
Occasionally it had shifted, or twisted, making it’s precious little noises. It
was having a nightmare, and he could not help but smile to himself. He’d missed
those sounds. When the door had first opened he’d half expected to see Severus
standing there. Much to his own amusement, it appeared to be Malfoy’s brat.
He’d never seen Draco without heavy cloaks covering him head to toe, but the
resemblance was remarkable. Watching the boy walk over to it, he took in the
silken blonde hair, stormy grey eyes, and smooth skin. The boy was beautiful,
and as he knelt next to the pet he was even more so. The two were like
celestial beings, one fallen, one on high, so contrasting it was breath taking.
Voldemort watched them, thinking it might be fun to take the other boy for one
night, maybe more, if for no other reason than to punish Lucius for not finding
a way for him to get to Snape as well.
Licking his lips, he watched it wake up, sparkling eyes almost instantly alert,
bright and aware, "Draco, what are you doing here? Mimi said she’d wake me when
classes were over. Did something happen to her?"
Mimi sounded very much like a house elf’s name, and waking someone would be a
house elf’s job. Besides, there was at least one of those little creatures who
knew it was here, the one who had slipped the information to Tibby. He winced
slightly at the thought, too bad about Tibby, he really should have kept a
reign on his temper. Finding a new elf would not be easy.
He watched the platinum blond brush dark hair behind its’ ears, staring deeply
into the green pools, too deeply to make Voldemort comfortable, "Harry, were
you crying?"
So, they knew what it had been. He’d wondered, but then it was inevitable. It
looked so much like its father and the old fool Dumbledore seemed to have an
almost photographic memory. He watched it stare, as if unsure for the moment,
before the confusion lifted, "Oh? Oh, yeah, I did. Is that wrong?"
So innocent, so perfect, so afraid that everything it did was wrong. Draco
appeared to be used to this and did not allow it to phase him, neither
confirming nor rejecting the thought, "What happened?"
A look crossed its’ face, one Voldemort had never seen before, not even the
first time he’d given it something it asked for, not even the first time he’d
been unable to punish it. I seemed so blissful, pulling into itself in its own
pleasure, "We made love."
"Did he hurt you?"
‘Of course not, you daft child, its practically glowing.’
And it was, it was smiling sweetly, innocent and perfect, but not for its
master. It was smiling for some traitorous fool who was now going to die very
slowly as well as painfully "No, it was wonderful."
Draco sat back almost imperceptibly in confusion, "Then why were crying?" As it
lifted its manicured fingernail (thank god it had kept up with those perfect
little shell like hands) the blond suddenly showed far too much understanding,
"Oh, the collar’s gone."
Truly worthy to inherit the Malfoy estate. The boy was as bad as his father,
stating the obvious to make himself sound insightful. He saw it hold out it’s
wrist and was slightly pleased to see that at least one cuff was still in
place, "I don’t want to take this off just yet, because of the tattoo, but
Severus says he’ll get me something smaller and less... less demeaning."
Ruined. It was ruined. How was in possible to ruin fourteen years of work in
one month? Voldemort saw red, but clenched his fist against the rage. He
couldn’t take the spells off yet, or he’d be discovered before he could get
away. It would have to be punished, really punished, painfully punished, not
just left on a bed for the day to be bored.
His thoughts were disrupted as he heard a familiar squeak followed by a crash,
and he looking up just in time to see the two boys tumble over the back of the
sofa. Walking around to get a better look, he felt the anger ebb out. This was
better than muggle porn. It was writhing under the pint sized Malfoy, bucking
and laughing, perfectly unaware of exactly how erotic the scene looked.
Draco swept his fingers over the its sides, attempting to get them deeper under
its arms, "You are going to have to learn that there are some things you do not
tell my potions professor."
It pulled its arms closer, trying to protect itself and attack back at the same
time, "Draco, please, I can’t breath!" The boy’s lack of mercy was a turn on in
itself, and Voldemort was tempted to jack off to them right then, besides, he
was rather curious as to whether his cum would be invisible as well.
Before he could act on the urge, a clicking noise caught his attention and he
looked up, all thoughts of sexual pleasure fleeing his mind as he saw Severus
Snape in the doorway.
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
     This is where what little happy there was, stops. Things take a very
     dark turn from here. Be warned that there will be rape, child abuse,
     mentions of character death, so on and so forth. Continue at your own
     risk.
Severus could hear them laughing from the end of the corridor and nearly bit
his tongue to keep from smiling. It was easy enough to pick out Harry’s higher,
far more desperate voice, and despite the fact that Severus knew it was
probably wrong of him to delight in hearing his young lover sound so much like
the child he was, knowing Harry had never truly been a child somehow made it
all right.
He quietly opened the door, not wanted to disturb them yet, and followed the
laughter to the back of the couch to stare down at them in amusement. "Really,
Malfoy, what did he do to deserve this?"
Harry’s eyes opened wide and as Draco’s fingers stilled in shocked at the
sudden voice behind him Harry sat up, knocking the blonde onto his ass on the
ground. Severus took a steadying step back as the boy barreled into him,
burying his face in the older man’s robes, "Severus!"
Draco stared at them for a moment, sour faced, before standing up and rubbing
his tail bone, which he was sure was bruised, "Really, Harry, you could have
asked me to let you up."
The other boy turned his head out of Severus’ robes, "You wouldn’t have."
He shrugged and Harry stuck his tongue out as Severus’ chuckled, "I think he’s
hung around you long enough to know that asking is not the way to get what he
wants."
Smirking smugly, Draco put his hands innocently behind his back, "It’s worked
before."
With an indignant noise, Harry grabbed a nearby pillow and launched himself at
Draco, clipping the top of his head in defense of his tattered dignity. "Hey,
watch the hair!" In response, Harry pelted him again, mimicking his friend's
trademark smirk. Draco narrowed his eyes and went to grab another pillow,
"That’s it!"
As he started to pull up, pillow slightly raised, he heard a hissing sound from
directly behind him and stopped, standing perfectly still. Harry had become
deathly pale. For a moment he’d looked scared, right before his face went gone
blank as though he wasn’t there. Harry’s fingers uncurled from the pillow and
it landed on the floor with an insignificant bounce.
Draco tore his eyes away from his friend. Feeling the foreboding building up
inside himself, he looked towards Snape, hoping his teacher would be come
reassurance, but he was standing rigid, eyes wide, skin a slight shade of
yellow like he was about to be sick.
He felt an unknown hand run through his hair and started to step away, afraid
that whatever had stunned the two was now touching him, but the fingers
tightened around his platinum strands, jerking him to a stop. He stayed still,
even when the grip loosened, and allowed whoever it was to continue the
ministrations, until the hand was removed. Diving forward Draco got behind
Harry, clutching his friend’s limp shoulders for support.
The man in front of him was not entirely unattractive, he wasn’t wearing a
cloak, and it was obvious that while thin and tall, his was by no means lanky,
Draco could make out the slight definition of muscle through the tight cotton
slacks. His skin was pale, though not so much as Harry, and his hair was jet
black streaked with contrasting white grey. What made Draco shiver and clutch
his friend tighter was the man’s eyes, tinted red over light hazel from years
of doing the darkest of magic.
What gave away who it was had nothing to do Harry’s sudden submissive posture
or Snape looking as though he might drop any moment, it was the possessiveness
in those frightening eyes as he stared at Harry. This was Lord Voldemort, You
Know Who, the Dark Lord, Tom, Master.
Draco tried to shrink farther behind Harry as the man held out a hand towards
them, "Pet."
Harry stepped forward, moving his feet in precise steps as though in a trance,
and came to stop less than a foot away from his former master. Voldemort
reached a hand down, placing it on the top of Harry’s head and running it over
the left side of his face and onto his bare neck, fingering the uniformly pale
skin, "Your collar is gone."
When Harry said nothing he did not appear angry, only tilted the boy’s face up
to see into the clouded green eyes a moment before lowering his own face to
rest less than inches above the boy’s. Draco thought they were going to kiss,
and hoped he could keep his stomach from doing the cartwheels it was already
threatening, however, Voldemort moved his thumb across Harry’s lower lip,
opening the boy’s mouth and hissed into the open cavity.
Almost immediately, Harry’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he went
limp. An arm snaked around Harry’s waist, holding his sagging form against the
Dark Lord protectively. Draco saw Snape take a step forward, fear and worry
reflected in his halted movement. He stopped, however, as Voldemort looked up,
all traces of humanity fading quickly, leaving them glowing red in pure anger.
Draco wanted to move away but his feet felt rooted to the spot. Severus paled
further, if anymore blood drained from his face he really was going to pass
out. Moving a finger around Harry’s cheek, Voldemort snarled at the death
eater, "It isn’t dead, Severus, just asleep. You are a very lucky man, I don’t
have the time to deal with you now. But I’ll have the time soon enough, and it
will last for days." His gaze shifted for a moment, looking down at the boy in
his arms, "Perhaps it can watch."
With Him looking away Draco decided to make his move, forcefully uprooting his
feet and taking a step back. Voldemort’s eyes sudenly focused on him and he
gulped heavily. Okay, moving hadn’t been the best idea. "You must be young
Draco Malfoy, pity your father kept you hidden for so long." Draco flinched,
unsuccessfully trying to hide fear. "You will return home for the holidays
unless you wish to inherit the estate for Christmas."
Voldemort smiled slightly, a menacing, lustful smile, and Draco finally managed
to stumble back, stopping beside Snape and watching as Voldemort sudenly
blinked out of existence, taking Harry with him.
 
____________________
 
The first thing Harry felt was someone prying his fists open. He tried to pull
them away, but the fingers working their away into his were persistent. He’d
never been able to sleep with his hands open. In fact, Master used to wake him
up this way. The left one was opened and a nail began to play over the palm. He
laughed at the ticklish sensation, pleased that his lover was in such a playful
mood, "Severus, tickles."
The finger stopped moving and Harry whimpered softly, burying his face into the
clothes he felt against his cheek. It didn’t smell like Severus. It smelled
like Tom. It was Tom. Looking up sudenly, he flinched at the anger gleaming
across Tom’s face.
That wasn’t right, it wasn’t Tom, it was Master. Master had come to get him. He
looked around the room quickly, taking in the new surroundings. He had not
honestly expected to be in the old room, Master would not be stupid enough to
take him back there if it had been attacked. This room was much larger and
mostly barren, with a bay window, and a large window seat. He could see the
stars outside, and allowed himself to stare longingly at them. There had been
no windows in Severus' chambers. His chair was there, and a few of the books
he’d liked the most were stacked in a corner as there was no book shelf.
He almost didn’t notice it at first, but on his second scan around the room he
spotted his cage on the floor and felt a deep ache in his chest. He looked at
it a moment longer before tearing his gaze away, half wondering why it made him
feel so strange, so uncomfortable.
Master was sitting very still, looking down at him, his gaze never wavering.
Harry sat up, trying to control his breathing as it was suddenly very
difficult. It reminded him of when Severus had taken him to the Great Hall and
he had seen all those people, it reminded him of fear, "Master?"
Master scowled deeply, suddenly gripping Harry’s chin hard between his fingers,
"You’ve been a bad pet."
Harry wanted to move away, wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. Master had
said thing like that before, but never with that much anger.
"You’ve been playing with other people." Master let go of his chin, running he
fingers down to his neck and squeezing hard, cutting off his breath, "And you
took off your collar."
Just when Harry thought he would have to either struggle or let himself pass
out Master let go, allowing him to sink to the bed clutching the sheets and
taking large gulps of air, "Master, please, I..."
He heard the sound of flesh smacking against flesh before he felt it. His lip
was split. Master had hit him. He put his hand up to his face, touching it
tenderly before pulling it away. Blood. Master reached behind him and grabbed
his hair, pulling Harry around to lay on his back, head against one of the many
pillows, "You do not speak, unless spoken to."
Harry held back choked sobs, but he felt the tears running down his cheek
despite his best effort. Master let go of his hair, and began stroking his
cheek, brushing the tears as though they weren’t there, in a mockery of what he
used to do early in the morning, "What else have you forgotten, pet?"
Moving the hand down and over Harry’s collar bone, he began methodically
unbuttoning the shirt. Harry closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the pain
in his lip, on anything other than the fact that he finally understood what
Draco meant by not wanting it, by not being in the mood.
Almost as soon as his eyes had closed the hand lashed across his face again,
causing Harry to cry out, "Have you ever closed your eyes before?" Mutely,
Harry shook his head and Voldemort smiled, it would have been soothing, if
Harry could not still see the anger in his eyes and feel it on his stinging
cheek, "Then don’t do it now."
The farther Master got down on the shirt, the slower he went, and Harry had to
hold his breath to keep from begging. He didn’t want to be touched like this,
like a pet. He wanted Severus, wanted his kind hands, and sweet words.
As though guessing what Harry was thinking, Master looked up, staring into his
eyes, reading them. The anger wavered for a moment, and Harry hoped, prayed
that he was rethinking it. Instead, he felt the hand that had so deftly
unbuttoned his shirt latch onto his wrist and slam it above his head, against
the metal framework of the headboard.
A sharp hiss issued from Master’s mouth, one Harry knew very well, and he felt
the loop of his cuff open and close around the sturdy, slim post. Despite
better judgement, despite knowing he would be in trouble, Harry tugged at it
desperately. Master only used them for punishment, to leave him chained to the
bed all day to teach him not to talk out, or touch things he was not supposed
to. This felt different, the look in Master’s eyes was different.
Still, he hoped. When Master stood and walked to the door he hoped it was the
same, hoped he was just being left to learn his lesson, even if he knew it
couldn’t be true. "Master?"
Master looked back sharply and turned to something on the other side of the
door, "Get in here."
When Lucius came around the corner, curiosity and evil glinting in his pale
grey eyes, Harry felt himself clawing at the cuff, instinctively knowing what
was coming, "Please, Master, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry."
Master looked at him, a very calculated gaze, before turning back to Lucius,
"Punish him however you like, but leave no mark you can not heal before I see
him in the morning."
As the smile on Lucius face spread, Harry kicked at the bed, desperately trying
to dislodge the cuff, "No! Master, please! I won’t do it again!"
Voldemort looked back at it as Lucius began walk towards the bed. It was full
out crying, sobs rending violently from its throat, "Please!? God, please, I
am, I’m sorry, Master. Please."
Stealing himself against the cries and screams he turned around and closed the
door behind him.
From experience Harry knew that the buckle was locked in place, but he pried at
it anyway, trying not to see Lucius undress and sit next to him. Master had
left him there to be punished, raped. Draco had told him about rape, although
he had not understood at the time. He had barely understood the meaning of
wanting sex, let alone avidly not wanting it.
He understood now though, understood completely as Lucius gripped his hips and
forced him to stay still. He straddled him, ignoring Harry’s desperate sobs,
and half hearted attempts to get the cuff off, "I can’t believe Severus saw fit
to put you in such hindersome clothing, and cotton even. How have you managed?"
The pants tightened around his waist for a moment before he heard a snapping
sound. He looked down to see that Lucius had ripped through the three buttons
holding the them up. When he began tugging the pants down, Harry became
desperate, futilely bucking up to dislodge the man, "Master, please!?"
Lucius leaned down, chuckling in his ears as he working them past his feet,
"Master isn’t here, pet. Master is probably in the kitchens by now having
dinner. What did you say to make him so angry? He’s always told me to be
gentle, to make sure I didn’t treat you rough." To emphasis his point he raked
his long finger nails down Harry’s chest, drawing blood in their wake.
Harry screamed at the sensation and went limp, "I... I played with Severus." He
forced himself to use the terms he’d been taught before, the ones he had
associated with sex. He didn’t want to imagine what Lucius would do if he heard
Harry say they’d made love.
Lucius snickered in his ear, stroking his abdomen, smearing the thick red over
the pale skin, "My, but that is naughty, isn’t it? He leaves you alone for one
month, and you let someone else screw you?"
Harry felt the hand reach down between his legs and squeeze roughly. He found
himself struggling weakly, shifting to one side only to have the hand tighten
further, "Please, don’t, please..."
"But you’ve been bad." Lucius slid two fingers under him and shoved them in,
pulling out the moment Harry began forcing his muscles to relax around the
digits. He gave a small cry of pain as Lucius backhanded him across the face.
More tears worked down his cheek, coming faster. "Stay tense! It’s not a
punishment if it doesn’t hurt."
Concentrating on keeping the muscles rigid, he turned his head away as Lucius
gripped the back of his knee and forced his leg to fold against his chest. A
hand stroked his cheek as the man positioned himself, though he did not enter
immediately, waiting until Harry turning a questioning gaze before slam in,
past the now fervently resisting muscles.
Harry arched his back, trying to get away, trying to relax, trying to do
anything to lessen the pain. Lucius gripped his face hard, leaning in and
kissing him roughly, "Did Severus feel good, pet? Did you like having him
inside you?" Pulling out slowly, he slammed back in hard and fast, stopping to
savor the pained noises and whimpers working from the back of Harry’s throat,
"Did he suck you off?"
A spark of defiance gleamed in Harry’s eyes and he sneered up at Lucius,
knowing it would only hurt more, but somehow he didn’t care, "No, but your son
did."
Lucius stopped moving, his face reflected horror at the thought of his son
having touched his master’s pet without permission. Horror at the kind of
punishment that would entail. Harry took the opportunity, the moment of
distraction, and brought his free hand up like a claw across Lucius face and
heaving up at the same time, trying to dislodge himself. It wouldn’t do any
good, it would only be a moment of respite before he was brought back to bay,
but he savored it. Lucius pulled back, holding his face and staring at the boy
on the bed in utter shock.
He had never fought back. Harry had always been pliant. Of course, he’d never
been outright raped before, he’d never cried so violently during sex. Harry had
backed himself against the head board, knees drawn to his chest, free arm
wrapped protectively around them.
Scowling at him, Lucius snaked an arm out and grabbed his ankle. Harry kicked
once, but his other foot was caught as well, and he was pulled back into
position, "No! Let go!"
Lifting both the boy’s legs onto his shoulders this time, Lucius forced himself
back in, slowly, waiting for the cries and choking sobs to slow before leaning
down, and putting his mouth next to Harry’s, "You won’t tell Voldemort, or next
time I get a turn with you, I’ll use an engorgement charm that’ll make you feel
like your eight years old again, only this time I won’t hold back." He waited
patiently for Harry to nod and began fucking him hard and fast, holding his
free hand to the bed in a vice like grip to ensure no more slip ups.
When he spilled the last of his seed inside Harry, he fell limp against the
boy, breathing in his sweat for a few moments before picking himself up. Harry
watched Lucius leave the room and turned over onto his side, curling into a
ball and choking down his tears.
There had been times before, when Master promised to punish him, or hurt him,
but he’d always stopped it before it got bad. Sometimes he’d wait outside the
door after he cuffed Harry to the bed, leaving him for only a few minutes
before letting him go. He’d wanted to believe, while Malfoy fucked him, that at
any moment Master would burst in and tell him to stop, that he would wrap Harry
up under the blankets and tell him to go to sleep, that he’d learned his
lesson.
But Master hadn’t come, and he realized he didn’t want him to. He couldn’t want
the man that had let that happen to come. The thought of seeing Master again
made him shake. He didn’t want Master, he wanted Severus. Fresh tears rolled
down his cheek and curled up tighter, closing his eyes. He wanted Severus.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Summary
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
Lucius stared at himself in the mirror, fingering the tiny white scars marring
his otherwise perfect reflection. He’d already tried five healing spells and a
concealment charm but they refused to go away. Thank god it had been wandless
magic or they might not have healed at all. When Voldemort had first shown the
boy to him, a tiny baby resting peacefully in the arms of the man who killed
his parents, the Lord had said there was great power there. Lucius had never
been so bold as to outright not believe him, but Voldemort had made damn sure
that power never so much as made an appearance.
Turning to look at the boy on the bed, he shrugged his cloak on. Voldemort was
blind when it came to that child, treating ‘it’ like a pet, pretending ‘it’ was
nothing more than a rather large cat he could fuck. Lucius had fallen into the
same trap for a while, less than a year, right up until ‘it’ started talking.
The first time the little child had seen him come into the room and pointed
proudly, yelling "Mister Malfoy!" and sounding so much like his own tiny son,
the death eater had lost his delusion.
Lucius walked from the doorway to the bed, staring at the boy’s back as he lay
among the comforters, shaking almost imperceptibly. He cast a lazy cleaning
charm, sliding his wand over the skin and watching the matted cum and sweat
dissolve. It was such perfect skin. He moved around to the other side, staring
at the emotionless face in distaste.
It had been the never ending supply of optimism that had made it so easy for
Lucius to forget it was a child, not just any child, Potter’s child. He’d never
acted like a Potter. The few times Lucius had been left in charge he’d found
that no matter what happened he would smile. He’d been starved for three days,
had no contact of any kind for two weeks, fucked senseless every night for most
of his life, never allowed to leave the tight confines of one small room, never
even permitted to open a window, and yet he smiled; he smiled and laughed like
a happy kitten that quickly forgot its master’s transgressions.
Something in him was angry at the boy. He supposed that it was due partially to
the fact that his face would never be the same, but the scars weren’t too bad,
in fact, he might decide he liked them eventually. He was mad because when the
child had fought back, bared the claws he had kept hidden, he had been so
human, so normal, like any other child being raped and abused.
Lucius wanted that again. He wasn’t sure why, but staring at the boy’s passive
expression, blank, though slightly pained, he just wanted him to fight back, to
do or say anything. Flipping the boy onto his stomach he probed him roughly
with the wand, healing the inner wounds.
Harry was vaguely aware that Lucius was hurting him, but he wasn’t sure that it
mattered anymore. He wasn’t sure that anything mattered. Master had ordered it
and what Harry wanted did not matter, could not matter. He was returned to his
back and the scratches on his chest were violently rubbed with a quick healing
salve. Master cared for him, Master fed him, Master made sure he was never cold
or dirty, Master bought him toys to keep him occupied. Master cared. He had to.
 
____________________
 
Voldemort picked at the steamed vegetables on his plate. He’d been staring at
them for half an hour now and his stomach still refused him. Oh well, it wasn’t
like he’d managed to get a full meal down in the past month anyway.
Pushing it away he listened to the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway.
So, Lucius was finished already. Anger welled up in the Dark Lord’s chest, but
he forced it down. He had ordered the man to punish his pet, so why was he so
upset now that it was done. Why had knowing what Lucius was doing made eating
so difficult?
There was a reason the death eater was his right hand man, maybe Lucius was
correct and the pet was a weakness. It had been the other man’s idea to use the
hypnosis spell when taking the pet from Hogwarts. Voldemort had gone along with
the plan, more to placate Lucius, seeing as he had spent so long working on it.
But the moment he saw its face, that first glimpse of fear before the trance
had taken hold, he had known Lucius was correct. As he set his fork down and
watched the other man sit at the table across from him, he decided it hardly
mattered. In fact, knowing Lucius was right only made it worse.
Intending to ask how everything went, despite the fact he wasn’t sure he wanted
to know, he turned to Lucius and stopped. Four pale white, thick lines marked
his left cheek, running across the prominent cheek bone. Voldemort was almost
positive he’d never seen so much as a scratch on the death eater. Even through
the four day battle right after the Potter’s death that had ended in a very
physical struggle when all magical resources had been expended Lucius had not
been so much as bruised. "What happened to your face?"
Rested his head on his chin, the death eater looked at his lord sarcastically,
"Your little pet has claws." Lucius stroked the slightly upraised skinned with
one finger, "You were right about the collar, it was necessary. The scars are
permanent and they can’t be obscured. It’s a damn good thing he didn’t know
what he was doing."
Well, that was interesting, he’d have to clip its nails before playing with it
again. He’d also have to look into another collar, one that it couldn’t take
off, but there was time for that later.
A plate of food appeared in front of Lucius, but the man seemed as reluctant as
Voldemort had been to actually eat it. He did, however, pick up the fork and
poke at the rare steak, watching the blood move around the plate. It was rather
disturbing, they looked like quiet the depressing pair. He could not remember a
time, not even after their first major defeat, that the two of them had been
such a sad sight. Well, better anger and revenge than morose and melancholy.
Standing up, Voldemort started to walk out, stopping at the doorway, and well
out of immediate reach, "Lucius?"
Malfoy raised his head slowly. He didn’t like the sound of his Lord’s voice, it
was the voice he always used when he was amusing himself with others' misery.
"Were your aware of your son’s relationship with the traitor?"
Voldemort could literally see Lucius stiffen, "No more than any other student,
my Lord."
"Hmm, then I’m to assume every student has leave to enter their teacher’s
private chambers during school hours? I think not, Lucius. Your son not only
had the password, but he knew the pet was there. He was very familiar with it.
He had come to see it." Voldemort watched what little color there was in the
Malfoy face drain quickly, leaving him almost dead in appearance. "Now tell me,
my faithful death eater, either your son knew it was there and did not tell
you, or he told you and you did not tell me."
After long minutes, Lucius’ mouth twitched as though he might be sick, "I had
no idea, my lord."
Shrugging, Voldemort started to turn away, casually looking over his shoulder,
"Draco will be coming home for the holidays. My pet has become so used to his
company, it’s only fair he continues to provide the service. Don’t you agree?"
Without waiting for an answer he swept out the room, however, he did not miss
what sounded disturbing close to a sob coming from Lucius throat.
 
____________________
 
Harry heard the door open, he heard the heavy breathing he instinctively knew
as Master’s. He sat up, scooting towards the headboard for support, "Hello,
Master."
Master knelt on the bed in front of Harry, trailing a finger over his perfect
cheek, over the place where the four scars now rested on Malfoy’s flesh,
"Malfoy says you were bad." Harry felt tears trying to well up in his eyes, and
Master leaned down, kissing him full on the mouth, running his tongue over the
pliant lips, "No fear, pet, I won’t punish you for it."
Harry threw his free arm around Master, burying his head in the man’s robes and
forcing the dry sobs back, "Thank you, I’m sorry, I was just so scared, and it
hurt so much."
Running long fingers through Harry’s hair, Master worked a hand onto his cheek
and lifted his head up, "I know, pet, but I’ll have to cut your nails."
Nodding, Harry held out his hand, part of him loathing the thought. He’d spent
so long taking care of them, as far back as he could remember they had been at
some state of length - once, when he’d been really bored, he’d grown them out
till they started curling. Watching with detached horror, he saw each little
nail fall onto the bed, leaving his fingers flat and... and like Draco’s,
masculine almost. Before everything, before Severus, before Lucius had raped
him, he would have cried for his beautiful fingers, but it just felt so
unimportant.
Master kissed the tips of each finger, sucking on the last one for a moment
before pulling away, "You’ll be getting company soon. I know you’d be lonely
without your friend." Harry stared numbly for a moment as the meaning sank in
and his stomach began to feel nauseous. He didn’t want to think about it.
‘Would Master want to play with Draco? Would Master want to watch? Would he
tell them what to do? Would he make Lucius...?’
Stopping the train of thought, Harry bite his lip to keep last nights dinner
from escaping. He tilted his head down, hiding his revulsion, until he felt
Master’s hand lifting his chin and gently forcing eye contact, "What Lucius did
was punishment for not knowing it was me who held you, for taking off your
gifts, your collar. But for allowing the traitor to play with you," a finger
ran over Harry’s cheek just under his eye where the tears had dried, "you can
watch him die."
He heard the hiss of Master releasing the cuff at the same time he realized his
stomach was heaving violently. Pressing a hand over his mouth, he stumbled
painfully into the bathroom and fell, knees cracking against the hard tile as
he vomited.
After nearly a minute, he managed to settle back against his heels, breathing
heavily. He reached up and flushed toilet with some difficulty, his strength
having left with the last traces of food in his stomach. Keeping a hand on the
small silver handle, he stared at it for a moment, confused. Something was
wrong, not right, it almost felt like something was missing.
Tibby. That’s what was wrong, Tibby usually flushed the toilet after he was
sick and then she’d fetch a warm rag to wash his face with and help quell the
remaining nausea. He could feel Master watching him, and he waited for the
water to finish its cycle before looking up, "Master, where’s Tibby?"
Harry watched Master kneel down at his side, "Tibby knew where you were for a
week and did not tell me. She had to be punished."
The hard knot was again forming in his stomach, threatening to come up and
Harry quickly leaned over the toilet, letting the acid taste rise up his
throat, burning in his mouth. Tibby was dead. She would have come otherwise,
she always came, no matter how hurt, she always came. He’d wanted to see her.
He’d begged Mimi to tell her and now she was dead for it.
It wasn’t long before he had nothing left, and Harry doubled over, resting his
forehead on the cool tiles and heaving dry sobs. He wanted to cry, really cry,
Tibby was more important than his rape, Tibby was more important than any of
them, but he’d already run out, and it made him feel dirty to know he couldn’t.
Master just waited. It wasn’t like him to be so patient, but Harry was glad,
grateful.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, but when he finally looked up, it was
into Master’s red eyes, clouded with lust and need. A hand grabbed his arm and
he let it, standing and stumbling into the bedroom, onto the bed, laying on his
stomach.
It should have felt like something, anything. He should have been revolted by
it, sickened at the least. But he wasn’t. It was so familiar it was almost
comforting. It wasn’t pain, or pleasure, or betrayal, or rape, it was just
Master on top of him, spreading his legs with ease, licking his thighs and
back, up his spine, sucking on his neck as he entered him. He was more aware of
the uneven breathing and cool drops of sweat dripping onto his back than of the
organ moving slowly inside of him.
He thanked various deities he’d read about when reflex took over, his body
clenching and his throat making expected noises. It lasted forever, five
minutes, less than usual. Master usually went much longer much harder. It was
almost as if he were trying to make up for the Lucius’ brutality and the vomit
Harry could still taste in his mouth.
When it was finally over, Harry felt Master fall onto his back, the cold skin
clammy against him. Sticky. He choked down another sob as he remembered what
Draco had said, knowing, without wanting to, that he was right.
‘How would you know? You were his fuck toy.’
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
     This is where what little happy there was, stops. Things take a very
     dark turn from here. Be warned that there will be rape, child abuse,
     mentions of character death, so on and so forth. Continue at your own
     risk.
Harry sat on the floor next to bed. It had been so cold in Master’s arms, and
the moonlight coming through the window had made it hard for him to fall
asleep. No, that was wrong. It hadn’t been the moon, it wasn’t the moons fault
he couldn’t shut off his own inner voice.
It was right though, that little annoying voice was right. Tibby was dead, and
Severus was going to die, the only person who ever loved him was going to die,
and it was all his fault. If he just hadn’t forgotten what he’d always known,
Master would come for him. Even if it had taken years Master still would have
come, he should never have let himself think otherwise. Tibby was dead, Severus
would die, and Draco would wish he was dead.
Harry couldn’t, didn’t want to imagine what Master would do to Draco, make him
do. Would he have to sleep in the cage? Would he be allowed to go back to
school? He tried to stop the train of thought, it was making him feel ill
again. Not that anything else coming to mind was making him feel better. He
kept remembering how Mister Pettigrew had screamed, and imagining Severus’
silky voice begging, apologizing, sounding like parts of him were being ripped
out.
Clutching his head between his hands he bit his own lip. It wasn’t right, none
of it was right, he had to do something. His feet shifted slightly farther
apart, bare toes brushing against something heavy and cotton on the floor. For
a moment, he thought it was the remnants of the clothes Severus had bought him
but those had never been that... hard. That wasn’t right, cotton wasn’t hard.
It could be stiff and scratchy and heavy, but never hard.
Dropping his hand to touch it he immediately knew the material. It was Master’s
cloak. He usually hung it up, but he must have been in a hurry, or perhaps he’d
forgotten. Running his fingers lightly over the place his foot had hit, he felt
a stiff bulge. Oh, the dagger. It was hidden in a secret pocket that Harry had
found when he was ten. Not that Master knew, he’d have gotten in trouble for
playing with the robe.
The idea did not come to him immediately, nor did he sit there thinking about
the weapon, or its significance. But after several minutes he found himself
starting at the place it was concealed in wonder. It could work, would work, he
just had to be quiet, and he was very good at that.
Slipping his hand inside, he cringed at the loud shuffling sound the material
made as it brushed against itself, but continued searching until he had wrapped
his fingers around the cold metal and pulled it out. It was so pretty, strange
that he would have forgotten about it. Then again, he hadn’t so much forgotten
as he had no reason to remember until now.
The handle was green colored pearl, innumerous serpents intertwining around the
six inch handle. He stared at them for a moment before closing his fists around
it, tightening his grip desperately. The lengthy blade stared at him,
glittering silver and sharp, another small serpent was carved into the base,
this one enchanted to move and hiss without making a sound. Harry looked at it
a moment longer, his brow furrowing. It hadn’t done that before, or maybe he
just hadn’t been looking closely enough.
Harry’s body seemed to move of its own volition, and with great difficulty. He
stood, clutching the side of the bed as waves of dizziness passed over him,
leaving him light headed and airy. Slowly, he heaved himself up onto the
feathery silken bed and crawled his way over, never taking his hands from the
dagger.
As he sat there, staring down at Master, Harry slowly brought the knife to lay
on the cushion of air above the steadily beating heart. It would be so easy, so
definite. Severus wouldn’t die, Draco couldn’t be hurt, everything would be
alright. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He could hear his own heart in
his ears, erratic and heavy, unsure. Maybe there was another way. He could put
it back, Master never had to know. He could try and distract him, he could lie;
not that he’d ever lied before, and he would probably fail miserably, but he
could try.
Slowly opening his eyes, staring at the dagger still poised to strike, he held
his breath. Maybe, just maybe. Leaning forward, he held his face inches above
Masters, hands shaking slightly as he felt the end of the handle press against
his chest.
Harry really wasn’t sure how it happened at first. He was most prominently
aware of his body sinking down, of the almost inaudible popping sound of the
knife sliding through flesh and the sickening slurp of the blood working it’s
way around the silver intruder. He saw his Master’s eyes open, staring forward
in shock, not looking at him as they quickly glazed over and dulled.
It wasn’t until after the warm blood had leaked over his own chest and abdomen,
rolling off Master’s sides and onto his elbows, that he felt the hand on his
back, clutching his shoulder, refusing to slacken and let go, even in death.
Sometimes, on the rare occasions that he got up before Master, Harry would wake
him up with kissing. Sometimes, in a playful nature, Master would pretend to be
asleep, waiting until the very moment when his pet’s breath brushed against his
lips, to grab him, pulling Harry down into a passionate embrace, chest to
chest, far from the chaste good morning Harry had intended. Sometimes it made
Harry laugh, sometimes it led to sex.
There was no kissing now.
Harry stared, unable to move. The red in Master’s eyes had drained entirely,
leaving only the cool light hazel, dull and unseeing. Pushing himself up
slightly, and preying his own fingers forcefully from the knife, Harry gripped
Master’s shoulders, "Master?"
He couldn’t be dead, it was impossible. A little voice in the back of Harry’s
head seemed to scream that it was very much possible, he’d just stuck at eight
inch dagger straight through the man’s heart and, Master or not, he was still a
man. Slowly backing away, Harry watched Master for any sign of movement,
flinching as the hand slipped off his shoulder and landed useless against the
bed.
He hadn’t meant to. No, that wasn’t right, he had thought about it, he was
going to, but he’d changed his mind. Can’t be dead, can’t be dead, ‘because if
he is I don’t what to do.’ He slipped of the edge and onto the floor, wrapping
his arms protectively around himself, ‘Who do I belong to if Master is gone.’
Shaking his head, he held himself tighter, ‘Not gone, Master is never gone.
Master will always come for me, he has to come for me. I forgot that once, I
let myself forget, but he did come. Always. Always and only; I’m Master’s pet,
Master’s pet, Master’s Pet.’
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
      
     The last few chapters are going to contain a small child in sexual
     situations. You heard me. Small child. Sexual situations. These
     chapters are not intended to be sexually gratifying to the adult
     reading them. They are a look into the psyche of an abused child and
     the abuse he suffered. They illustrate why and how Harry is so
     dependent on Voldemort and how that's changed as he looks back at
     certain events in his life. This particular chapter is safe, but
     going forward, you are reading at your own risk.
Master says I have a memory like a video recorder, of course, he then refuses
to tell me what a video recorder is. I think it means I remember things well.
My absolute earliest memories are of the Singing Lady. The aren’t clear, I
don’t even know what she looks like, but I remember her.
I also remember Lady Narcissa. I have an image of her from when I was really
small and she was holding me with this utter look of contempt on her face. I
suppose that’s why I don’t like her very much. In truth, I hide when I hear her
coming down the hall.
Then there’s Mister Malfoy, he’s just confusing. I can never tell what he’s
thinking. Most of the time he ignores me, unless I draw attention to myself,
the rest of the time he seems to be evaluating me. It’s unnerving to have
someone sizing you up every time you see them, but I suppose I’m used to it.
Although, I still wonder sometimes what he’s comparing me to.
Mister Pettigrew was a constant in my life until thirteen. I wonder what
happened to him. He was nice to me even if he seemed perpetually nervous. The
man was afraid of his own shadow. I would hide and wait for him to pass by so
that I could jump out at him. It looked like he was having a heart attack and I
really don’t know why I found that so amusing.
Mister Lestrange came on rare occasions, but I’ve never liked him. He unnerves
me, stares at me. I don’t run from him like I do from Lady Narcissa, but only
because he’ll find me and make me stand out in the open until he leaves. He
doesn’t like things to be hidden while he’s around. My fear of him is
irrational and I know it, he would never hurt me, Master would never allow it.
It’s just... he smells like blood.
And of course, there’s Master. Master is everything comforting and familiar.
He’s always there, always holding me. He never lets me feel truly lonely. When
I’m scared, when I’ve had a nightmare, or I’m hurt I just want to curl up in
his lap and listen to him breath into my hair. It doesn’t even matter that he’s
cold because he’s all I’ve ever wanted, all I had ever known to want.
The Singing Lady is different from them all. There’s no face to go with the
voice, just a soft, melodic tone that I never remember after waking up. I can’t
even describe how she makes me feel, it isn’t just comfort, it’s more. It’s
something I don’t think I had even come close to feeling until Severus, but it
isn’t the way I feel for him, it’s so... different. Sometimes, when I haven’t
heard her voice in a while, I like to hope that I’ll dream about her when I
sleep. I think I miss her.
In my earliest clear memories I am three years old. The room was much larger to
me then, it was like a palace. The carpets were a deep green that looked black
at night, the walls were pinstriped in the same green and a shining silver, and
the bed was fitted with silk black sheets, and a thick silk, goose feather
comforter of, again, the same green. Master had an obsession with green; I had
heard Mister Malfoy say so, and though I don’t remember exactly what happened,
I do vaguely recall the distraught look on his face as I clapped my hands,
repeating ‘obseson’ over and over as loud as I could.
The room looked so different then. There was no amour, as it wouldn’t be bought
until I was six. Instead, that wall was occupied by a changing table, dresser,
and an out of place plastic toy chest. The toy chest was the bane of my
existence as I could never figure the latch out. Eventually, after several
minutes of attempting to open it I would resort to making loud, annoying noises
until either Master or Tibby did it for me. I strongly suspect it was charmed
to keep me out.
There were few books and no bookcase at the time, only a small stack of old
volumes next to a drafting table in the right hand corner that the large plush
chair would later monopolize. The only things that never changed in the room
were the large four poster bed and my cage. They sat together as they always
would.
I never felt animosity towards my cage, never before. Looking back at the
memory it seems to glare at me, taunt me. It’s hard to tell if the emotions are
brought on by what Severus has taught me or if they were always there and I
just never noticed. Maybe I always hated the cage, maybe I just didn’t
understand what hate was.
The bedroom was in stark contrast to the bathroom which had been strictly under
the control of Lady Narcissa. The tiles were stark white, the walls painted a
bright, gleaming yellow. The large bay window had been fitted with a bench seat
that opened to store towels and sheet, and enchanted so that it could not be
seen from the outside. Due to the fact that Master hated sunlight it was
usually covered by the stiff flower curtains he had insisted she put up; well,
the flowers had not been his decision. The bathroom was divided into two parts.
The first was a smaller room with a wide sink, wall sized mirror, and the
window. The second part was slightly larger as the giant tub had to be fit
comfortably inside of it with room for the toilet. There was little else, only
a rack to hold two towels for when Master or I finished bathing.
One particular day stands out in my mind from back then. Through the bathroom
window I could tell it was bright. Master had left the curtains partially open
as I became distressed when he shut them. I don’t think I so much wanted to see
the sun as I wanted him to pay attention to me.
Tibby had been minding me for some hours. Master had been at the drafting
table, and while I didn’t know what he was doing at the time, hindsight allows
me to surmise he was planning some attack or another. I was mostly bothered by
the fact he had ignored me the better part of the day, waking me up and feeding
me for only a few moments before passing me off to the house elf and he hadn’t
looked up since.
Tibby had bathed and dressed me, and was trying fruitlessly to get me to build
something with the giant blocks laying at my feet, but I just stared at Master,
hoping he would notice and come pick me up. I could sit quietly on his lap and
even fall asleep if it pleased him, I just hated being ignored.
For all this, I made no noise, just stared. It had been my experience, however
miniscule, that if I cried Master was less likely to pay me mind. I was just
beginning to give up and set about the task of systematically knocking down the
towers Tibby had erected when I heard the clap of boots on the hall floor.
By then I had become familiar with the variant sounds of people walking down
the hall. Lady Narcissa’s shoes clicked, quick and precise. Mister Pettigrew
shuffled as though he were nervous. Master never wore his shoes inside of the
house, making soft thuds as he marched through the halls. Mister Malfoy always
wore his boots. In retrospect I have only seen him take them off when he plays
with me, and he’s always sure to put them back on afterward.
I stopped the destruction of the building blocks to look up as the door opened.
Until then I had never had the inclination to walk. Master woke up in the
morning and carried me around till Tibby had breakfast set up, at which time he
would feed me, and hand me over to be bathed. Most days I spent sitting in his
lap, and should he leave the room he would always pick me up upon returning. I
didn’t need to walk.
Mister Malfoy was different. He always regarded me with an air of detached
curiosity, especially at that age. As I got older he would touch my cheek or
ruffle my hair, most especially when he began ‘playing’ with me, but as a small
child he seemed reluctant for physical contact. I, however, wanted the
attention rather badly, that day in particular. So, as he closed the door
behind him, blond hair hanging around his shoulders, standing perfectly
straight to report whatever it was he had come to report, I decided that if he
would not come to me, I would go to him.
Pressing my hands firmly against the floor I pushed myself up, rocking on the
balls of my feet as I sought to steady myself. Both men were far too wrapped up
in conversation to notice my awkward steps towards the tall blond until I had
thrown arms tightly around his leg.
Hearing that the voices had stopped I looked up and into Mister Malfoy’s face,
to see it wrought with the strange mix of curiosity and confusion that I had
come to identify with him. Smiling broadly, I couldn’t help laughing as he
became even more perplexed, "Mister Malfoy!"
His expression wavered for a moment, but I had no time to think on it as
Master’s voice came from behind me, catching my attention, "Pet."
I looked back and saw him hunched over in his chair, arms extended in my
direction. Letting go of Mister Malfoy I made my way slowly through the room,
falling only once before reaching the safe and sought after arms of Master. He
picked me up and sat me on his lap, staring down at me with neither pride for
my having accomplished the task nor frustration that it had taken me so long,
just mild relief and disinterest as I sat there, content to now have his
attention.
He sighed and almost seemed to smile, though not quite, "Finally."
It didn’t occur to me then that he should have been proud, that he should have
smiled, I was just so relieved that he was holding me. Perhaps I was as
relieved as he was.
***** Chapter 17 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
      
     The last few chapters are going to contain a small child in sexual
     situations. You heard me. Small child. Sexual situations. These
     chapters are not intended to be sexually gratifying to the adult
     reading them. They are a look into the psyche of an abused child and
     the abuse he suffered. They illustrate why and how Harry is so
     dependent on Voldemort and how that's changed as he looks back at
     certain events in his life. This particular chapter is safe, but
     going forward, you are reading at your own risk.
Two years had not done much to change the room. The changing table and toy box
were gone, leaving the wall bare save a small dresser. Master had thrown away
most of my toys, wanting me to play more sophisticated games which were now
stored in a bin under the bed that was easier for me to access without
assistance.
The drafting table still sat in the corner of the room, covered in papers and
random stick it notes with scribblings written on them that I couldn’t
understand. There were more books now, they were piled on either side of the
bed and made a great shelf when I wanted to put my glass of water somewhere for
later use. Master had said that annoyed him, it could fall over and ruin one or
more of the volumes, but he never got angry or actually told me not to.
The window to the outside was open that afternoon, and I could see the bright
colors of the setting sun, purples and pinks were splayed across the sky from
behind the trees. Master had been not come home the night before, and I had
slept in my cage, cuddling one of the pillows from the bed that smelled like
him.
I don’t think I minded being left alone during the day if it weren’t so boring,
but I absolutely hated it at night. The cage was a comfort, at least, I
remember thinking it was, now I just remember cold bars and moving shadows.
During the day I could open the window and watch people outside for hours. The
death eaters, that’s what Master called the ones like Lucius who wore the long
black cloaks, sometimes brought their children to the house for meetings, and
would leave them outside to play. I’m not sure if Master approved.
The girls seemed rather mean, even if I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
They’re faces were always nose in the air, and they detached themselves from
even each other, sitting in separate areas of the yard either playing with
dolls, or waiting impatiently for their parents to come get them. But they
seemed to get along better than they had the year before.
The boys weren’t much better. More than once I’d seen the little blond in heavy
cloaks pull the pigtails on one girl. In fact, he seemed to pick on her an
awful lot. I wondered if they knew each other. There was a part of me that
wished I could play with them, or open the window and at least talk, but it was
overshadowed by the part that knew I didn’t really want to. They were so
strange. I saw one girl yell at her father. I could never yell at Master. I
could cry or grab onto his shirt and drag myself half across the room begging
for what I wanted, but I could never yell.
That afternoon had been uneventful. The yard was mostly empty, only a few
children, and they didn’t seem to feel like associating with each other, so I
had sat in the center of the room trying to think of something to do.
Eventually I settled on something Master had called chess. He’d given my a set,
but had yet to show me how to play.
It was to that end that I was stretched out in the middle of the now spotless
room with my feet in the air, staring at the chess board blankly. Master had
enchanted it to make a rather loud, obnoxious noise when I made an illegal
move, and as I had no clue what was and was not legal it was becoming far too
frustrating far too fast.
The loud buzzing sound filled the room again, and I held back the urge to throw
the pawn across the room, instead setting it back where it had been and staring
at the board in confusion. It had let me move a pawn two spaces forward last
time.
I was just about to give up and put the board away in favor of checkers, which
I knew very well how to play, when the door opened. Looking back I gave an
excited squeal. It wasn’t often that someone managed to surprise me, but it
hardly bothered me as the person was Master, and I jumped to my feet, throwing
my skinny arms around his waist in excitement. He ruffled my hair
affectionately, smiling down at my overjoyed face.
Burying my nose in his robes I breathed in his musky scent deeply, "What
happened, Master? Where were you last night?"
Turning me around, he motioned me towards the bathroom and I followed,
immediately understanding his needs. It was obvious by his over prominent,
though by no means unpleasant, odor that he had not been able to bathe while
out and wished to do so now. Leaning back against the door I kicked my heal
against the cool tile while he drew the water, needing nothing more than to sit
in the scented bubbles, and probably not wanting to listen to an excitable
house elf. Tibby’s main job was to take care of me, she rarely did things for
Master that he could do for himself unless it was requested.
As he slipped in, I sat myself beside the tub, goose bumps rising on my bare
legs as they rested against the floor. "Master?" He had laid his head back
against the rim and now lifted it to look at me questioningly, "What happened?
You said you would be back last night."
Lifted a hand from the water he ruffled my hair again, laughing at my obviously
annoyed face as water dripped in my eyes, "We went to scout out a town we
wanted to attack and found someone waiting for us. It was only token
resistance, but we had to make sure they were utterly defeated before leaving."
I nodded, pretending to understand him, and sat quietly on the floor as he
bathed. Some ten minutes later, he motioned for me to fetch the towel which
hung behind me against the wall. As he dried himself and adorned his sleeping
robes, I made sure to stay some respectable distance behind him, chaffing at
the quite in the room.
I wanted to hear what had happened, I wanted details, I suppose, like any
overactive five year old, I wanted an adventurous bedtime story and did not
take into account that whatever he told me involved real people. Master and
Mister Malfoy, Lady Narcissa and Mister Pettigrew were the only real people in
my world.
Master noticed my twitchy feet making circles in the carpet, something Tibby
had taught me to do rather than make noise, or ask annoying questions I did not
need to know the answers to. He stopped to stare down at me, his arms crossed
over his chest, "Well?"
My feet stopped of their own accord and I tried my most winning smile, "What?"
When he scowled, more out of annoyance at my attempt to feign ignorance than
out of any real anger, my smile dropped. "I was bored all day."
His scowl lifted and he picked me up with a strained grunt, setting himself on
the chair, my little legs straddling his lap, "You can’t have been that bored,
my little pet, you were playing chess."
I pouted and wrapped my arms around his chest, trying to catch his scent
through the pungent smell of bleach, "I was trying, but I’m not very good."
His hand played with the hair at the nape of my neck, "And what of Tibby?
Wasn’t she here?"
"She had to clean, Master, I’ve been alone since early this morning." He
chuckled and I sighed contentedly into the vibrations of his chest. "Tell me
what happened?"
His hand tightened in my hair, though not painfully, and I looked up into his
stern eyes, "You do not need to know what happened. Only that things did not go
as we planned."
To my discontent, he lifted me up and placed me back on the floor, "Take off
your shorts and kneel over by the chess board."
It wasn’t an uncommon command, not entirely. Although, since we had begun my
new training some months ago he had insisted it be on the bed or the chair.
This was the first time he had shown interest in the floor. Moving as quickly
as my small body would allow I pulled the small leather shorts off and took my
place next to the black and white marble set.
Setting himself behind me he leaned over and pulled the board so that it was
directly in front of me and pushed me gently over onto my elbows. "Play."
I blinked for a moment, uncertain, but willing. As I reached forward and picked
up the pawn his finger slowly penetrated me, pushing in until it was to his
knuckle. This I had become used to. It no longer hurt, though it did feel a
little uncomfortable for the first few moments.
Master began moving it around, pulling out and in, allowing me to adjust around
it. After a moment, he stopped, "I told you to play."
I started at the command, having been far too caught up in making sure I did
not tense to move the pawn I held in my hand. I put in down and was rewarded
with a loud buzz, indicating it was wrong, and picked it back up.
The finger had started moving again, but it was easily ignored. Master leaned
over me as he worked, watching me put the piece down again, my movements very
obviously unsure but this time there was no offensive noise, and I sighed with
relief, my muscles contracting and relaxing in the movement.
Master made a rather appreciative noise, "Do that again." After a few moment, I
succeeded, and he ran his free hand down my back in reward, "You’re getting
better. Now, I need you to relax as much as you can." He waited a moment, till
he felt my muscles unwinding, "More. Good. I’m going to put in another finger.
Keep playing."
I randomly grabbed a piece that looked like some kind of deformed head with an
elongated nose and put it down two spaces forward, only to have the buzzer once
again take me by surprise. Master chuckled, and I gave him a sour look behind
my shoulder, "I told you I wasn’t very good."
"You just don’t know what you’re doing. I’ll have Malfoy teach you." As I
turned my head to look back down I felt the other finger beginning to force its
way inside next to the first one. My hands involuntarily clenched, and I bit
the side of my mouth to keep from crying out. It stopped after entry, barely
inside and I felt Master running his hand down my spine, "Why aren’t you
playing?"
Taking a large gulp of the saliva that had poured into my mouth I tried not to
sound strained, "Hurts, Master."
He continued stroking me and his voice softened, "Breath pet." I took a shaky
little breath, and felt him push it in a little farther before stopping, "Large
deep breath, pet." I complied and the finger slipped the rest of the way in. I
held my breath then, finding it impossible to entirely ignore the painfully
sharp feel of him stretching me.
Master leaned over me again, his cool breath against the back of my neck, "Keep
breathing." As I dragged the air through my lungs, my body began to comply to
Master’s wishes, relaxing around his fingers. He slowly moved them back and
forth, his hand playing at the base of my spine to help focus my attentions
elsewhere.
Within minutes it had become easier, and if not entirely painless it was at
least bearable. When he finally pulled out all together I twisted my body
around and threw myself into the disheveled night clothes. He tilted my head up
and kissed my mouth tenderly, his tongue working it’s way patiently around the
interior and tasted the saltiness of the few inadvertent tears that had fallen.
"You did very good, pet."
***** Chapter 18 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
      
     The last few chapters are going to contain a small child in sexual
     situations. You heard me. Small child. Sexual situations. These
     chapters are not intended to be sexually gratifying to the adult
     reading them. They are a look into the psyche of an abused child and
     the abuse he suffered. They illustrate why and how Harry is so
     dependent on Voldemort and how that's changed as he looks back at
     certain events in his life. This particular chapter is safe, but
     going forward, you are reading at your own risk.
Master said I had hit a growth spurt. It must have been a very small one, I
always imagined that a growth spurt would entail more than a few inches. I
thought I would be as tall as Master, or at least nearly. Instead, I was barely
taller than his waist. If I stood really straight my forehead reached his belly
button, and if I stood on tip toes, I could lick his stomach. He hated when I
did that, but that was why I did it, to get his attention when he was talking
to Mister Malfoy and ignoring me.
I wasn’t a very good pet, not most of the time, and most especially not when
Mister Malfoy was around because he was always around and he and Master were
always talking and leaving me alone. I suppose I was a little jealous when I
think back to it. Mister Malfoy and Master were talking about important things
that I didn’t understand, places I didn’t know. Usually I could sit still for
the first few minutes, but then I’d get jittery, I’d start swinging my legs and
humming and doing anything annoying that I could think of without actually
interrupting. If they ignored that I’d eventually crawl over the Master’s feet,
or sit in his lap, sulking, while they talked.
Not that I was that way about everyone. When Mister Pettigrew came over I liked
to sit at Masters feet and stick my tongue out at the little man when I didn’t
think anyone was looking. One time Mister Malfoy caught me. He told me it
wasn’t polite, and most definitly not becoming of Master’s pet. It probably
wasn’t, but Mister Pettigrew looked so funny. He kept shooting glances between
me and Master as though he were afraid he was seeing things.
If Lady Narcissa came by I just hid behind the bed until she left. Master knew
I didn’t like her, and he often said I should give her a chance, especially
since she had done such a nice job cutting my hair. My hair was actually the
most recent grievance I was attributing to her. It had nearly grown to my
shoulders in some places and I was very pleased with the progress, however,
Master said it was getting tangled in the back of the collar when I slept and
it had to be shorter. Chin length was as far as it got before it simply stopped
getting shorter.
I still didn’t like Mister Lestrange, but I suppose I was on my best behavior
when he was around. I sat on the bed, cross legged, staring at the wall on the
other side of the room until he left. I never said anything, I never moved. If
I moved, he looked at me.
There had been so many visitors that night. Mister Malfoy and Mister Lestrange
had come for two hours. Two hours of sitting on the bed saying nothing, doing
nothing. Afterward, Mister Malfoy said he’d never seen so well behaved and had
fulled my hair despite protest. Master scowled at me for the dirty look I gave
his loyal follower, but he wasn’t mad, not really. Annoyed, not mad.
Master left with Mister Malfoy, but only for a while. When he came back he had
Mister Pettigrew take me into the bathroom and watch over me while he talked to
some people I didn’t know. It wasn’t often I saw more than one person in a day,
and it had been quite a while since Mister Pettigrew had been by.
It was late at night now, heavy curtains had been pulled over the window in the
bathroom leaving only candle light to illuminate the room. In what had become
our nightly ritual over the last year and a half I was lying on my stomach on
the bed, my legs spread wide enough to allow Master access, and he sat next to
me, one hand on the small of my back, the other deftly moving two fingers
inside of me.
Master had told me that some day this would allow me to give him pleasure, that
we would play. I wondered what he meant by that, but he told me nothing other
than I was too young yet to understand. That was probably the most frustrating
response I ever got out of him. ‘You’re too young.’ I was six years old, when
would I be old enough?
Looking back from the parchment I was drawing on, I watched the intent look on
his face as he set about his task. He seemed to be concentrating awfully hard.
I was fairly sure we’d been at it for some time by now, my picture of the
dragon was nearly finished. It wasn’t very good, but then it was hard to draw
between instructions to relax or tense, or flex certain muscles.
Sighing heavily, I laid my head down on my arms and saw him smile out of the
corner of me eye, "Are you that disinterested?" I shrugged and he chuckled,
pulling his fingers out, "My poor pet, tell your Master what’s bothering you."
I sat up, and crawled into his lap, carefully looking for any signs that he was
annoyed or otherwise wanting me to get off. There were none, so I settled
against his knees. "I want to know what you mean by playing. When will I be old
enough?"
Master sighed heavily, and put a hand on mine, drawing it from his shoulder and
down his chest and into his lap. I gazed questioningly at him, and he simply
pressed my fingers into his crotch where I felt something stiff and large. It
didn’t occur to me to pull away; I just looked down and sat back slightly.
Pressing my palm over the hardness, I heard Master gasp, and looked up at his
suddenly very controlled and yet anxious face, "Is something wrong?"
He shook his head, "No, pet, nothing’s wrong. That is why I stretch you. When
you are old enough, I will put that inside of you, but I have no desire to do
irreparable damage, so I am preparing you."
I wrapped my fingers around it and looked back down, marveling at its size,
"It’s like mine, only different. Is it always this big?" It seemed to me that I
would have noticed something that large and hard. It couldn’t have been easy to
hide.
Master groaned slightly at my subtle hand movements, "No. It’s only like that
when I’ve been playing with you."
"Oh." I moved my hand over it, tightening my fingers around it, "Does it hurt?"
I think he tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a quieted moan.
"Sometimes. Pet, move your hand over it, up and down."
Curiosity got the better of my, and I smiled mischievously, "Can I take it
out?"
It twitched in my hand, and I tried, unsuccessfully, not to giggle as Master
reached down between our bodies and unzipped his pants, pulling it out quickly
before settling back on his elbows, "Take it in your hand." I did as
instructed, feeling the hot flesh burning slightly in my palm. It was silky
smooth, and pale, but colored oddly from the rest of his body, there was almost
a purple blue tinge.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, "Pump it. Gently. Move with the skin, not
over it. Like that."
There was a strange sense of power, but not overwhelmingly so, and after a
moment I watched his face. He looked like he did when he was taking an
extremely hot bath after an arduous day. I moved a little faster, and he tensed
as a warm fluid poured over my hand. It was opaque and thick, running over my
fingers and onto his lap.
I lifted my hand to my face and sniffed it. Master still had his eyes closed,
looking far more relaxed than he had a moment ago. Very tentatively I stuck my
tongue out and tasted it. It was bitter, but not bad, just different. Licking
it again to get a better taste I looked up from my hand to see Master staring
at me, his eye brows raised, "Do you like it?"
"What is it?"
He sighed, and pulled me onto him. My hand fell to the bed and smearing it
against the comforter. "That is what happens when an adult plays. When you get
older it will happen to you as well."
Laying against him, I tried to imagine what it must have felt like. It looked
enjoyable. Part of me wondered what else I could do to make him feel good like
that. I would have done anything, I would spread my legs and let him take me
the way I knew he so desperately wanted if I thought he would enjoy it.
Maybe he wouldn’t have. I was so small as a child, it might have hurt him.
Looking back on things is so strange now. It’s not a fond memory anymore, it’s
making me feel dirty, and I don’t want to feel dirty. I want to remember the
stars. That’s why I thought of that night.
Much later, when he was asleep, I climbed out of the bed. I didn’t do it very
often, just sometimes. I was always so quite. Mister Malfoy said it was
unnatural. He said his own off spring sounded like a small elephant. Of course,
he then refused to tell me what an elephant was.
The curtains hardly made a rustle as I slipped through them, seating myself on
the inside ledge of the window. It was never open. The stars were so bright
that night, and I sat there touching the window, my hand pressed against the
cool glass as if I could reach them. Impossible, but I wanted it.
Parts of me, even then, wondered what it would be like to be those other
children I sometimes saw playing in the front yard. They looked so happy. But
then I had to remind myself. I was happy. Why wouldn’t I be? I had no reason to
want, I had Master. Master made me happy. Now that I think about it, I suppose
it was strange. I suppose I shouldn’t have had to remind myself.
***** Chapter 19 *****
Chapter Notes
     Originally posted in 2002. I have not extensively edited since then.
     I apologize.
      
     The last few chapters are going to contain a small child in sexual
     situations. You heard me. Small child. Sexual situations. These
     chapters are not intended to be sexually gratifying to the adult
     reading them. They are a look into the psyche of an abused child and
     the abuse he suffered. They illustrate why and how Harry is so
     dependent on Voldemort and how that's changed as he looks back at
     certain events in his life. This particular chapter is safe, but
     going forward, you are reading at your own risk.
I leeched onto Master’s leg, burying my face in the billowing robes he only
wore when going out, and cried. At the time I hardly cared that I was ten years
old or that my behavior was inappropriate. It didn’t matter that Mister Malfoy
was standing in the doorway. I’m not sure that would have ever had an impact,
he’s always been there and I’ve never question his presence, no matter what
might be going on. Surprisingly, though, I cared even less that Mister
Lestrange was there; he was all but forgotten at the sudden realization that
Master was leaving.
He wasn’t leaving me forever, but at the time, in my childlike mind, he might
as well have been. The war was turning slowly in our favor and over the past
week Master had spent all his time at the drafting table that was now covered
in scratch marks and ink. I think I remember it being very clean less than a
few years ago. He’d collected stack after stack of books on obscure spells,
rituals, and tactics, all piled along the wall in no particular order, some
strewn open on the floor around his chair.
It was around this time that I had begun to teach myself to read whenever I was
sure he wasn’t looking. Master had, the other day, caught me looking in one of
he bloodier volumes on what I think was sacrifices (I never saw the book again
afterward, so I can’t be sure what it said) and had declared it was time he
move certain items out of the room and out of my reach.
Not that I understood what he meant when he said that, but I sure as hell got
the idea when his two faithful death eaters showed up and began removing books.
I behaved myself at first, hoping it was just the books, hoping that he meant
only to remove the ones he didn’t need, that were getting in the way of
research and cluttering the floor.
I didn’t understand that I was the thing getting in the way. To be fair it
wasn’t entirely my fault. I was bored, and ten year olds in general do not
handle boredom well. In fact, as far as ten year olds went I thought I was
doing quite well; I occasionally sang to myself, I only pestered him for
attention every few hours, and I rarely, once or twice an hour, asked what he
was reading. So, maybe I was annoying. I wanted his attention. He was my world,
and suddenly we were apart even when we were in the same room. It was
frustrating to me as well as him, and I didn’t understand why he had to leave
when all it would take was a few hours a day to shut me up.
I remained quietly seated on the bed, anxiously changing positions every so
often, until they grabbed the desk. As they started man-handling it out the
door I gaped like a fish. Mister Lestrange seemed curious as to what I was
doing, or going to do, he’d never seen me move so much, but I’m fairly sure
that Mister Malfoy knew. Mister Malfoy had to have known. He stopped right
outside the door, put his hand in the way to keep it from closing, and watched.
Moments passed as I stared at the now empty corner, mouth hanging open,
"Master, what are you doing?"
I knew what he was doing, I just didn’t want to believe it. He no longer
intended to study in the bedroom, and that meant my time with him would be even
less than it already was. Would he still study all night if that meant I would
be alone?
He looked nervously at Mister Malfoy, a gesture I put no thought to at the
time. It was a rather imploring look, as though he were asking for help. I
suppose Draco must have thrown tons of fits, in fact I’m sure of it, and if
Mister Malfoy’s amused face was anything to go by he knew I was about to throw
my first real one. It didn’t mean he’d give advice, but I suppose it confirmed
Master’s suspicions.
Stumbling off the high bed, I threw myself onto the floor at Master’s feet,
taking my usual submissive posture, "What’s going on? Why are they taking the
desk?"
Then again maybe I didn’t know. It’s so hard to differentiate between now and
then. It’s hard to even imagine how naïve I was, how innocent. Is it really
possible for someone to be that innocent or did I just pretend? I don’t think I
was pretending; I can’t remember ever having to pretend.
Master looked down, a rather annoyed furrow in his brow, "I need peace and
quite to plan my war, little pet, so I’m moving the desk and the books into the
study downstairs."
Looking up at him, I tilted forward, purposefully getting closer to him in
anticipation of the next answer, "Can I come downstairs too, then?"
After a moment he shook his head and my worst fears were realized. I would
never see him, never. He’d be in the study all day and all night, and he would
probably even eat in there as well. Wrapping my arms around his leg, I was
determined not to let go. If he wanted to go downstairs so bad he’d have to
take me with him.
So that was how I found myself in absolute tears, knees firmly planted on the
ground, face in his robes, half to catch his soothing scent and half so that I
would not have to see the anger in his eyes. He pulled at the leg, but I simply
held on tighter, "Please, don’t go! I’ll be good, I’ll be quiet, I won’t make a
sound. I promise."
Master tried to pull away again, and when he failed I no longer needed to look
in his eyes, I could hear the anger in his voice, "Let go." I gripped my own
arms as well in an attempt to make the hold more firm. My finger nails were
digging into the pale flesh, leaving little red half moons, "Let go this
instant."
"No!" The word left my mouth before I could stop it. My eyes widened against
his leg, and out of the corner of my eye I could Mister Malfoy’s mouth drop. It
got very still. Master wasn’t moving but I could feel the absolute rage coming
off him now, and while it didn’t terrify my the way I suppose it should have it
did make me desperate to right myself, "Please don’t leave, please?"
"Lucius, detach it this instant." I cried and bawled, but it wasn’t long before
I was deposited on the bed and the three of them were gone, leaving me to think
about what Master would do to me for that outburst. Had it just been Mister
Malfoy, had I not said ‘no,’ then it wouldn’t have mattered; but Mister
Lestrange was there too, and I had said ‘no,’ I had refused to do as he asked.
Eventually I cried myself to sleep, it didn’t take very long, and when I woke
up I realized that Tibby had not roused me for dinner. The little meal of
steamed vegetables and bread was laid by the door and I ate half of it
miserably, picking at the rest till I lost interest in even trying.
I was left alone for three days. My mood became despondent at the isolation.
The fear that he might not return was over powering; if he didn’t it would be
all my fault. By the time I finally heard the soft thuds of Master’s feet on
the hallway, I was desperate. I had been sitting in the window with the
curtains drawn back to allow light into the room, as there was no one to be
annoyed by it and now sat
Sitting up I watched the door until the knob turned and then ran to the center
of the room, falling to my knees and waited anxiously for him to enter. Part of
me was glad to see him looking as haggard as I was sure I looked, there were
bags under his eyes and he seemed slightly paler. It was satisfying to know
that without me he faltered, even if I would never point it out. That knowledge
was what made later isolation so unnaturally bearable; he was suffering, too,
he was looking forward to his return as much as I was, if not more.
Sitting still, I watched the floor as he approached and knelt before me, "Sweet
little pet." My eyes closed and I leaned into his touch as he placed his hand
against the side of my face, "You’ve been very bad, and I’ve been wondering
why. But perhaps it was obvious."
I tilted my face slightly upward, unwilling to break contact with him so soon,
"Master?"
"What made you assume you could tell me no?" I wasn’t afraid he would hurt me.
He had never hurt me. It won’t ever be like that again, I’ll never forget the
look in his eyes when he struck me, I’ll always be looking for it, afraid to
find it.
Closing my eyes again I breathing him in despite our distance and cuddled his
hand slightly, "I’ve no idea, Master, but I am sorry. I’m so sorry."
He moved his fingers to my hair and ruffled it affectionately, "I know you are,
pet, but I can’t have it happen again. You’ve been watching the children
outside too often." I looked at him questioningly. "I never thought much of it
before, but the past few days I’ve watched them myself and they are rather
insolent. You’ve been getting ideas from them."
I didn’t think I had, but couldn’t deny it. He had to be correct. He was
Master, never wrong, always right. Laying my head against his chest awkwardly,
I muttered more apologies, but he didn’t seem to want that anymore. His fingers
twined with my black strands, without hurting me he tilted my face up towards
him. He looked at me meaningfully, "You are not a child you are a pet, and if
you forget that again the window will be boarded."
It didn’t hurt then. None of this hurt then, so why does it hurt now? Why when
I think of those words does my chest tighten and I feel like my heart could
burst? God, it hurts. And I don’t want to remember what happened next, I don’t
want to remember that, but then I haven’t wanted to remember any of this. I
used to live in the present, the past was nothing to me. I thought of it with
neither fondness nor sorrow, in fact, I never thought of it at all.
Why now? Why won’t it stop? Why can I feel his hand on me, caressing me as
though he loved me, or even cared? I want to think he cared. I wish he did,
perhaps he could have, but never the way I wanted. I want Severus; I want to
remember that and only that. It’s all overlapping. Master setting me on the
bed, his hands running down my arm and shushing me as though I were a skittish
animal. Severus drawing me into his lap, whispering words of love and
understanding. Master pulling me forward to take him into my mouth tonelessly,
tastelessly. The bitter sweet taste of Severus as he slid past my wanting lips.
Master positioning me on my hands and knees, Severus pulling me into his lap;
cold hands, warm hands; emotions of love, need, and apathy; of nothing and
everything, all mixed up and confused in my head.
I can’t want him, I can’t want Severus, I can’t want that anymore because he’s
going to die. Master will kill him, and then I’ll die as well. I’ll mourn to
death if I keep remembering his promises, and his eyes, and his moans, and the
way I felt.
Always remember Master will come, he’ll always come for me. It could take
forever and he’d be at the end, waiting for me. He needs me and I have to need
him back. I have to wait. Never forget. I can forget some things; I can forget
that I did forget, forget that Tibby died for it, I just can’t forget that he
will come.
I have to remember what I am. I knew it when Severus first found me. When he
was just some stranger standing in his thick black robes, holding the death
eater mask that marked him as trust worthy, and I had to know where Master was
because that was the only thing that was important. "Mister, what’s wrong?
Where’s Master? Is he hurt?"
Please say he isn’t. I need to know he’s okay. I’m nothing without him, he’s
who I am, he defines me. He shook his head and I thought it meant everything
was okay. Maybe it didn’t, but I needed that reassurance and so I took it. Then
he opened his mouth, that perfect, sweet mouth, and asked the question that had
never been asked of me before that moment. "Who are you?"
I should never have forgotten, "Who am I? I’m Masters Pet."
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