Disclaimer: I own nothing, I'm using Jo Rowling's characters without permission. Shameful shameful.
Warnings: Slash, Mature content, beta-less writer (BADLY NEED ONE, I KNOW I'M DOING SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE TENSES!)
The Dark Lord sighed as he cast the spell that will bring Harry Potter out of unconsciousness. The fifteen year old boy's eyes snapped open and immediately took in his surroundings. His eyes zeroed in on the form of Lord Voldemort, casually lounging in a comfortable dark red sofa, assessing him as he lay on the rug, his four limbs magically bound and his whole body naked except for the leather collar on his neck. He was gaping like a fish.
Voldemort sneered. This was supposed to be the boy who would be responsible for his demise. Him! Did the fates think so little of the Dark Wizard that they sent such a pathetic creature to go against him? No matter. Voldemort cleared his expression and stood up to browse the books on the shelves lined up on the wall. He hummed in pleasure as he noted the titles. There were too much books for a room that's not meant as a library but it's not nearly enough to be a proper library. He decided that he liked the fact that he wouldn't need to browse too much when he'd wish to read for the sake of reading. He could merely grab a book and soak it in without going through the trouble of filtering the materials. He loved a Reader's Collection.
"What do you want from me?" Potter asked as he tried to cover himself. With nothing to grab or hide in, he tried to angle his body such that the shadows would cover him in the most convenient way possible at his current state, thanking that the only light in the room was the fireplace. The man by the bookshelves checked his mental clock and it told him that the boy took approximately five minutes to ask that question. Pathetic. He didn't deem Potter worthy enough to get a swift reply.
"Well, answer me!" the boy cried desperately, yet boldly: considering that he was talking to the ruler of Wizarding Britain. At best he isn't completely a coward. At worst, he's incredibly stupid. Gryffindor. "I want you to by my servant's plaything." Once in a while, he tries to look at it in an optimistic light and judge people at their "maybe best" therefore he answered the boy as a reward for not being a complete coward.
The boy thrashed on the floor, trying to loosen up the bonds that held him, shouting his protests. He went back to raiding his servant's collection as he tuned the insignificant creature out. It was a good while later when the two occupants heard the crack of apparition from the arrival of the rightful owner of the place, the wards hummed as it welcomed its master.
"So nice of you to join us Severusss. I brought you a present." He gave his favourite servant an indulgent smile – one that Severus imagined a cat would have when it presented a dead rat to its person – as he motioned to the boy on the floor. The long haired man scowled, no doubt irritated that his Lord broke in his private home. His dark gaze flicked to the 'present' and marginally widened.
"My Lord." He bowed with an ungrateful expression on his face. Voldemort chuckled. Severus has a way of conveying his message while acting contrary to it. It was sincere while keeping up with formalities and it was quite adorable. Voldemort inwardly cackled at that thought.
His smile widened "The squad responsible for capturing rogues from the opposition recently acquired some kids. One of them was this boy." He started his explanation "He's not his mother but I thought you might want him. Fuck him, do experiments on him, or just lock him up… I don't really mind what you do so long as he stays put." He continued to pluck some books that he fancied "Oh and before I forget," he pulled out an old tattered book from his robes and handed it to Severus "This was found on the boy's belongings among other things, thought you might want it back." Severus heard a small gasp from the boy as he reclaimed his old book. That solves the mystery of who snuck into Hogwarts, the least defended place of information at the time of the takeover transition, and stole books and supplies a few months ago, Severus thought.
One of the smaller strategies was to withhold knowledge from the opposition to lessen the chance of them training their young to continue the battle. If there wasn't a good mentor around, there's less of a chance for them to fight back when they don't even have clear instructions that books could usually provide. Sources of knowledge such as books and teachers were rounded up and are currently monopolized by Lord Voldemort and his followers.
At this point, the Dark Lord was so pleased with himself to notice Severus' right eye twitching as he held the old potions book. There was no need for further familiarities or explanations. He does what he wants. With that, he grabbed the pile of books that he took from the shelf and disapparated, leaving Severus and the boy alone.
"I-" Potter choked, shaking himself out of his shock when he noticed that his binds were gone "I don't want to be your slave!" that what happens to captured rogues. They became slaves up for auction or they get distributed to favoured followers of the Dark Lord.
Without his superior in the room, Severus gathered himself and moodily stared at James Potter's spawn. "What makes you think you're in the position to make demands?" he asked coolly, telling himself that this boy was just like his father: entitled, arrogant, selfish. Oh and he can glare childishly.
Without warning, Potter stood up bolted away from him, determined to look for the exit. He didn't get very far as Severus whipped out his own wand and activated the magic on the collar that binds the one wearing it, the object on the boy's neck took and memorized the signature of its new owner. Potter did, however, manage to knock over his possessions in his attempt.
It seems so easy to feel anger for the boy who bears some resemblance to his father. Severus approached the heap on the floor and tugged at Potter's collar and yanked his hair up. The boy hissed in pain and glared up at him awkwardly while lying on his stomach. This close, he reconfirms that yes, indeed he got Lily's eyes. He lost her in the war… her smiles, her affections. He didn't want James Potter's son but he decided that he would have Lily's eyes even if they stared at him accusingly.
He eyes raked the brat's form, noting the lean figure, if a bit short. He observed the pale limbs, toned but not bulky, narrow waist and his skin unmarked by the war. Severus felt bitterness at the state of his body. It would seem that James and Lily secluded their son from the world; the brat would know nothing of the tortures and terrors that plagued good men and women during war time. James' spawn doesn't deserve to be in such a blissfully oblivious state. The older man leaned down and sank his teeth on the flesh between the boy's neck and shoulders.
The body beneath him stilled for a moment then renewed its struggles immediately. "Ow…stop." The protest fell on deaf ears as he flipped the boy to face him. His eyes were huge with panic and unshed tears. Small hands got in his way and he decided to place them over the boy's head and spelled the pair to stay there. Harry was a different kind of beauty. Severus was grateful to note that he inherited few of his father's expressions. Features were only that: features. Without expressions, it's hard to recognize the same face. He looked inviting with his huge eyes and slightly parted lips.
It was a bizarre night. Later, Severus wouldn't be able to properly explain why he did the things that he did.
It was like something came over him as he growled and crushed the boy's lips unto his. His hands roamed up and down on the bare chest, a contrast as he was still fully clothed. Briefly, he wondered why the Potter hasn't bitten him yet. He trailed his hands lower, groped the sides of the boy's stomach and went even lower. He forcefully spread Harry's legs open and settled himself in between.
Green eyes snapped to his face in terror. "Please," a tear started to fall "not like this."
That caught Severus' attention. He smirked cruelly. "My, are you a virgin, Potter?" the boy's cheeks instantly went from pale to red. He didn't know why but the way it spread the colour was one of the most obscene things Severus had witnessed –and he was no innocent, he wasn't above paying prostitutes to pass the evenings and had he witnessed quite a lot.
Suddenly, he thought that he understood why some of the Death Eaters prefer to target and rape virgin women, though he never participated in that act. He preferred his lovers to be experienced but this… he dipped his hands on the boy's member, effectively stroking it – the boy gasped… this sent a thrill down the older man's spine.
Harry closed his eyes and held his breath, willing the humiliating experience to simply be not real. Instead, he focused on the wood on his back and the chill on his skin. Pull yourself together! Think, play dead for now and escape when you see the chance.
"Now," Severus whispered "you're behaving."
With an act of pure will, he pulled away from the warm body beneath him. Harry almost sobbed in relief but remained silent just in case. "Stand." The older man said quietly. Harry obeyed, his knees shaking in anxiousness and, to his embarrassment, arousal.
Severus dragged him by his still-bound wrists out of what appeared to be a sitting room. The older man paused to reach up some rope on the ceiling and dragged down what appeared to be movable stairs that led to a small attic. He urged Harry to go up ahead of him and the boy silently obeyed. Upon arriving, Severus unbound the boy and summoned an extra cushion that's big enough to sleep on, a blanket, and an old shirt. He promptly tossed the items to his new slave.
Severus cast some wards that will prevent Harry from escaping and transfigured a bed pan as an afterthought. "Stay." He ordered unnecessarily and left the boy alone in his attic. He needed to think about what he would do with this new development.
Severus gritted his teeth as he thought about the new game his Lord is playing at. He took a deep calming breath and reached for the cabinet that hid his firewhiskey. What now? He asked, unsure of what he wanted from the boy he only briefly knew from his various spying missions. The potions master decided that he needed to know the boy inside out before he even begins to feel comfortable having another presence in his home.
A/N: This is my first Snarry and I'm still working out a lot of things between them. I know I need to work on my grammar but I haven't written any story in years and for the life of me, I can't seem to proofread anything. That said, if there are any Beta Readers there who find the story interesting enough, please PM me and help me out :D (this is embarrassing). Also walk me through the Beta Reader thing on how that works... ehem, noob here.