Rated M for violence and whatever else I put in here or the warning.
Warnings: Non-con HP/LV, and HP/DM references, violence. This may be considered OOC…I don't know…Lots of non-con so stop reading if you're offended. Or keep reading if you're offended. Whatever floats your boat.Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
"Parseltongue" in italics…if it shows up.
"An Intention of Making it Better"
"I thought I'd invite a guest to dinner." Lord Voldemort hissed to the nineteen-year old man on his right. Some would know him as the chosen one. Some would know him as the Boy-who-lived. Few would know him personally as Harry James Potter. "Would you like to know who is coming?"
There was silence, and at no response, the Dark Lord reached over and grasped the other mans chin in a brutal hold, so that Harry gave a harsh cry from the pain in his scar, "Answer me when I speak to you!"
Harry trembled, and at his move to speak, Lord Voldemort removed his hold.
"I would very much like to know who is coming…my Lord." Harry was indeed curious. He prayed it would not be Bellatrix Lestrange, or even any other Deatheater. Rarely did a guest dine with them for it was not unusual for Harry and Lord Voldemort to just eat alone at the long table, Voldemort always at the head, and Harry always to his right.
"Draco Malfoy will be joining us tonight. Since you have not been coming to any more meetings, you've missed quite a lot of what has been happening in the wizarding world on both the light and dark side of it. His father, I found, was less trustworthy than I thought, and now young Draco, is now my second in command, which is quite an honor." Voldemort finished with a tone that seemed to scorn the smaller man. Harry had once been offered that position. Lord Voldemort had announced it at a Deatheater meeting without Harry knowing in advance. Harry refused, some things got a bit rough, and Harry was not allowed at any more Deatheater meetings. Ever.
Harry looked down at his empty plate and nodded, not quite sure what to say to this. He had not seen Draco in almost two years. He had wanted nothing more than to see Draco, and now with Lord Voldemort being there, Harry did not want Draco to see him at all.
After a few minutes of silence, there was a knock on the door, and Harry tensed, filling up with anticipation and dread.
"Come in, Draco," Voldemort said in a high voice, and he gave a cruel smile to Harry as Draco walked into the room and gave a low bow
"My lord, thank you for calling me to dine with you," Draco said in a polite, submissive tone. At Voldemort's command, he straightened and went to sit at the Dark Lord's left. He was wearing Slytherin green robes, and to Harry, looked as handsome as ever.
"Harry, your manners," Voldemort hissed and Harry looked up to Draco, careful to make no eye contact, and said quietly, "Good evening, Draco."
"To you, as well," Draco replied. And the Dark Lord soon began in conversation with the youngest Malfoy.
"I believe Rookwood must have told you that…" Harry did not listen; he instead, stared moodily at his hands in his lap. Quite a while had passed before Harry realized that no food had yet arrived. He also realized that he was rather hungry. Finally he looked up.
Draco was not seated at the table; instead it was only Harry, and Voldemort, who had his long fingers carding through Harry's hair.
"Are you hungry, Harry?"
Harry nodded innocently, eyes wide like a child's.
Voldemort removed his hand from Harry's hair, and lifted up the silver lid to a platter before Harry.
Inside laid Draco Malfoy's bloody, severed head, mouth open in a silent scream. At the site, Harry gave a horrified scream.
"Eat up, Harry."
Harry awoke from his dream, screaming and thrashing, and fell from the bed, sheets twisted around him in an unnatural tangle.
He sat there for a moment, and instead of attempting to climb back into bed, curled up into a ball and broke into quiet sobs.
There was a creak on the bed, and Harry was picked up and placed back onto the bed into the hold of strong arms. He struggled, briefly.
"No, I don't- WANT!" He wailed and tried to break free. A hand began to rub soothing circles onto his bare back, and he began to settle, and soon slumped against a hard chest.
A trail of kisses on his ear led to his neck, and he closed his eyes, pretending he was not there. That he was at Hogwarts with his friends, and Draco, and that Lord Voldemort was dead.
"It is best not to pretend Harry, for one faces bitter disappointment when faced with reality." Came Lord Voldemort's cold voice in his ear, making Harry shudder.
"I don't mind fending off reality for a bit while longer," he whispered, "I know disappointment, I think I can take a bit more…"
The Dark Lord gave a short laugh, "Tell me, Harry, what did you dream of now? Draco? Your weak, dead little boyfriend?"
"He wasn't weak" Harry defended in a whimper.
"But he couldn't protect himself against you Harry, and your sharp claws and hungry savage mind. He couldn't protect himself when you first tore into him, and"-
"STOP IT! PLEASE!" Harry screamed, and the room almost seemed to shake. There was silence, and Harry sobbed, "I didn't want to. I didn't mean to! I couldn't help it!"
"You didn't?" Voldemort asked, as though he did not know the whole story, or anything that had happened.
"I didn't! I swear!" Harry said wanting, no needing to convince Voldemort that he did not want to kill Draco. His eyes were once again wide, and innocent, pleading for the cruel man to understand.
The Dark Lord pressed his guilt further, "But you looked so happy, Harry," he drawled, "You seemed so eager to divulge every bit of him. You did not save any remains but his bones." Harry winced. Draco's bones accompanied Hermione's in his cell in the dungeons.
"I'm SORRY!" He sobbed, and turned to bury his head into the man's chest. The man placed his arms around Harry, and drew him closer, and smiled cruelly at the male in his arms.
"Do you want me to make it better?" he asked slyly, waiting for Harry's naïve reaction. This happened plenty of times before, and each time, Harry believed him. Until Lord Voldemort actually began his act of 'making it better'.
The Green-eyed man look up with a hopeful face "Can you? Please? Let Draco know I'm sorry? Can you?"
"Of course Harry…I can do anything…" the Dark Lord waved his wand, and standing a few feet away from the bed was Draco Malfoy, dressed in dark blue robes, beckoning Harry to come near.
"May I?" Harry trembled, awaiting his answer. The Dark Lord nodded, and Harry gave a shout of joy, reaching up to kiss Voldemort on the cheek, for he knew Lord Voldemort liked when Harry did these things on his own accord.
Harry then leapt from the bed, uncaring he was naked from a night in bed with the crimson-eyed man, and ran towards Draco who held his arms wide for a warm hug. Harry ran into the embrace, and yelped, as he fell to the floor, bound in black ropes. Draco was gone, for he never really was there, and the Dark Lord stood towering over him.
Harry rolled around in the ropes in a futile attempt to escape. An utter look of terror crossed his face.
"NO!" he shrieked, as he was thrown brutally on to the bed, his head banging hard against the headboard. The ropes disappeared, and he made a move to flee, but was held down his back against the sheets that seemed wet from…blood?
Voldemort seemed to notice the blood surrounding them, "Hmm, Harry, you're injured, are you? Do you want me to make it better?" he gave a terrifying smirk, and Harry who had tears flooding down his face, sobbed.
"STOP IT!" Harry screamed, thrashing and bucking wildly. "PLEASE! You said you wouldn't! You said you'd stop after"-
He was interrupted with a kiss, and try as he might, he could not rip his head away from the forceful grip.
"No, Harry, I will not stop, I will not succumb to your plea's. I intend to keep, 'making it better' for a while longer yet." And he reached down for another kiss that Harry was unable to reject.
"It's better n-now. I'm f-fine now, I swear!" Harry tried, shivering by the Dark Lord's acts.
A twisted smile, and then, "I do not believe you, Harry," he said in a mocking tone, "I believe you are lying to me. Do you know what we do to the liars?" Lord Voldemort did not wait for an answer. "We punish them"
Harry cried, "NO MASTER! I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I did not intend- I did not mean"-
"It seems there are a lot of things you do without intending to, Harry."
"Please, I can't go there!" He was referring to the Dementor-filled room Lord Voldemort took him too. He had not gone for a little over seven months, and for that he was grateful. But the Dementors, Harry was sure, were plenty hungry for sorrow and sadness, and Harry had plenty of that.
"I'm afraid you've got to much of your spirit left not to take you. Come on." Lord Voldemort held out his arms for Harry to be carried down to the dungeons in.
Harry back away from the man, "No, I, I don't want"-
"Disobeying your master, I'm afraid means one more day then the original amount."
"No, I didn't mean to disobey, I can't go down there again! I can't! I"-
"Two more days then the original amount!"
"I…"
But when Lord Voldemort opened his mouth to speak, Harry gave another sob, and crawled forward into Voldemort's arms. He was adjusted with his arms around the man's neck, and his head over the man's shoulder.
"Seven days shouldn't be too bad, Harry," the Dark Lord whispered peacefully into Harry's ear. Harry nodded, eager to agree.
Seven days couldn't be too horrible.
Right?
-
-
-
So that was your sequel. I hope you liked it, because I really did.