It had taken Voldemort almost two months to realize it.
He'd had Harry Potter in his dungeon for two months, having captured the boy near his home on Privet Drive. Two months that he went down daily to torture the boy. Oh, he could have killed the brat as soon as he got him, but this was much more fun.
Two months. Voldemort grinned sadistically as he remembered the day he found out Potter's secret.
He'd been using the whip that day, adding deep wounds to the already scarred flesh. He'd had the boy chained in the center of his cell, his arms bound and raised up to the bar the chain was latched to. He'd just walked around the front of the boy and laid the first lash to the thin chest when he saw it.
The boy had an erection.
Voldemort had raised his eyes to stare at the boy. Usually his face was pressed to the wall, or hidden behind his hair. It wasn't this time. And he could see the way the boy tried to keep the pleasure off his face, his cheeks flamed red.
After that he'd started to add sexual remarks to his torture before he decided to just plain add sex. He'd started it off slowly, jerking the boy while he hurt him, fingering him while he flogged his back.
Oh how he'd enjoyed when a month later Harry finally stopped pretending to hate what was happening. The first day he'd walked into the cell to find Harry naked and kneeling on the floor, willing to call him his lord and master was certainly a turning point. While Voldemort enjoyed what he did to the boy, he'd always waited to be back in his rooms before jerking himself to the thoughts of the screams and blood.
That day was the first time he cummed (not really the way to say it, but to say came was confusing.) in the cell, his cock choking the boy while green eyes stared up at him. It was only a couple days after that he'd started fucking the boy, enjoying the screams of pleasure and the ones of pain he caused.
He also remembered the first time he went down to the dungeons and didn't torture the boy, in anyway.
Harry had been curled up on the small cot he'd been given, wrapped in the blanket Voldemort had also given him. The boy had been weak and feverish, one of his wounds had been infected.
It wasn't long after that he'd moved Harry into the small bedroom connected to his own, though he kept him confined to that room for several weeks before expanding the boy's prison to his own room.
After several more weeks Voldemort realized that Harry wasn't his enemy anymore. They spent time talking and simply enjoying each other's presence. They even talked about the changes he was making in their world, and the boy surprisingly agreed with most of what he was doing and was willing to offer his own opinion.
He unlocked the bedroom then, allowing Harry free run of the manor, though the magic-suppressant band remained on his ankle.
Needless to say that his inner circle had been surprised when he'd told them of Harry and that he was not to be harmed. Except of course for Lucius, who'd already known. Voldemort himself had been surprised when the older wizards began to like and even respect the boy. It had taken six fights with Bella; five broken noses and three breaks of her wand hand for Bella and being cursed many-many times for Harry before the two finally got past their hate. For some reason after the worst fight, where they both had needed quite a bit of healing, they had been come friends.
He'd never seen Harry as happy as the day he removed the band and gave him his wand, giving him his trust. He'd also given permission for Harry to leave the manor as long as he went under a glamor and with an escort. Scarily enough, he'd gone shopping with Bella and Draco Malfoy the next day.
"Voldemort," Harry moaned, bring him out of his thoughts.
"Hmm," he hummed, staring down at the bloodied back under him. Harry was lying on his stomach on their bed, Voldemort sitting on the back of his legs, making thin cuts on the pale back with a knife.
"Please," he begged, wiggling a little under him.
"Be still, pet," Voldemort ordered, smacking one of the wounds with his bare had, earning a small gasp at the sting.
"Please, My Lord," he whined.
"Please, what?" Voldemort asked, running a hand up the boy's back, through the thin layer of blood.
"Please fuck me."
He grinned and waved his hand, releasing Harry's hands from the headboard. "Turn over," he said, moving so that the smaller man could do as told.
Harry turned onto his back, grimacing a little in pain, his lust-filled eyes on Voldemort's own.
Voldemort settled between Harry's thighs and leaned down to kiss and bite the boy's sweat lips.
"Please," Harry begged again, wrapping his arms around Voldemort's neck and legs around his waist.
Three hours later, after a much needed shower and breakfast, Voldemort sat on his thrown, Harry lounging on a large, soft cushion at his feet. He didn't insist Harry sit there, the boy just seemed to prefer it to the chair Voldemort offered to conjure. The Death Eaters didn't care where the young wizard sat, they still respected him as their second lord.
"Today is a special day," Voldemort said to the Death Eaters gathered in the large meeting hall. They no longer wore masks, no longer had to keep hidden. Voldemort controlled their world, ruling from the side, allowing his people to be the ones in public.
"We have the last of Dumbledore's Order," he continues as five prisoners were dragged into the room.
"Harry!" The Weasley matron cried out when she spotted the young wizard, causing the other three to look up in surprise.
"Ah, Albus," Voldemort said before anyone else could say anything. "I'm so glad you could join us."
"Tom," Albus scowled.
Voldemort sneered at the sound of his birth name, no one called him that.
"Let us go, you monster," one of the others yelled.
"Really, Tonks?" Harry asked, twisting so that he sat up on his cushion. "You really think that you might just be released?"
"Harry! We thought you were dead! Why are you sitting there?" A thin man with sandy blond hair said, the werewolf. "Help us!"
One of the Death Eaters snickered, even the corner of Voldemort s lip twitched up in amusement.
"Why would I?" Harry asked calmly. "You stand against us."
"You didn't join him, did you, my boy?" Dumbledore asked sadly.
"I am not yours!" Harry exclaimed, his wand suddenly in his hand and pointed at the old man. "You lost me four years ago when you sent me back, yet again, to those damned muggles! When you didn't even check the wards that were supposed to protect me! When your precious Order guard allowed me to be taken by Death Eaters!"
"We tried to save you, cub!" The werewolf cried out.
"Didn't work very well, did it?" Voldemort smirked, running his hand through Harry's long hair to calm him a little.
"Harry," the Weasley woman cried.
"Traitor!" Tonks screamed at Harry.
Bella was suddenly behind the woman and kicked her in the back, making her fall on her face. "You speak to our Lord with respect!"
Harry snickered.
"Lord?" Dumbledore asked softly, somewhere between surprised and horrified.
"That's right, show your respect," another Death Eater said.
"Can we just kill them now?" Harry asked, looking up at Voldemort. "They're pleading is annoying."
Voldemort had to chuckle a little at the gasps of horror and shock that comment earned from the prisoners.
"I'll silence them if you wish, pet," Voldemort said to his lover. "But I am going to have my fun, at least with the old man. You can kill the others if you want."
"Please do," Harry said calmly. "I hate when they beg for me to help them."
"Harry, how could you join him?" Dumbledore asked before he could be silenced.
"Because Lord Voldemort takes care of me," he told him. "Because he is My Lord and I love him." It was true, and he told the man a couple times before so it was no surprise.
"You know he can't love," Dumbledore said sadly.
Harry waved a hand to silence the man. "Perhaps not," he said calmly. "But he takes care of me, made me his equal, and gives me everything I need and want."
Voldemort ran his hands through the boy's hair again, smiling inwardly at the devotion and love in his voice. He may not be able to actually love the boy, but he did belong to him and he took very good care of what belonged to him.
"Severus," Harry said lightly and the man stepped forward. "Would you like to play with Lupin? I know how much you hate the wolf."
The Potion Master smirked. "I would, My Lord," he said bowing his head to the small wizard.
Harry waved a hand in dismissal and the man took the werewolf out of the room, two others following after Voldemort nodded his head in permission.
"You don't wish to play with any of them, pet?" Voldemort asked.
"No, My Lord," Harry said with a teasing grin, knowing how the man loved him calling him that.
"Do not be cheeky or I will have to punish you," Voldemort warned.
"Will you do it in the dungeon?" He asked, almost begging. "We haven't been there in a while."
Voldemort grabbed Harry's chin in a tight grip, forcing his head back farther. "I will chain you up and beat you until you can't scream anymore and your blood covers the floor," he promised huskily.
Harry moaned, not caring who heard him. The Death Eaters already knew of his perversion, several had walked in on Voldemort beating him or fucking him.
"Make them watch," Harry suggested with a twisted grin. "It would hurt them so much."
Voldemort chuckled darkly. He so enjoyed what Harry had become. All Voldemort had to do was discover Harry's secret pleasure and give it to him.
All he had to do was hurt Harry in the way he loved and the boy willingly joined him, became the perfect pet and consort he could ever want.