Disclaimer: This story is mildly dark, by my standards. Involves some torture, NonCon, among other things. I do not own anything Harry Potter related, except a scarf my fourth grade teacher made me, because she's a BAMF.

The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was the darkness. There was absolutely no ambient light. It was complete, utter darkness. The second thing he noticed were the icy chains strapped around his ankles and wrists, and the cold cement under his back. The third, was his clothes. Or rather, lack thereof.

He laid his head back, and squeezed his eyes closed. He tried to remember how he came to be in this predicament. The last thing he remembered was Dumbledore dying, and running after Snape. He remembered dueling Snape and then... and then nothing. He gave a sharp tug on the chains, only to find that they provided no slack whatsoever. This is bad, he thought to himself, very, very bad.

"Oh Potter, you poor child. How much you will beg for death when I am through with you." He thought he recognized the voice. No, it can't be. Bellatrix sounds insanse. This voice.. this voice sounds passionate.. lustful. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he looked around, trying to see if he could see where the source of the voice was.

"Who are you? Let me go! You're going to be sorry when Dumble-" he stopped. Dumbledore was dead. He began to panic, yanking at his chains. "Help! Someone help me!" What good this will do me, he thought. These are magical people, of course they've used a silencing charm.

"Scream all you want, Potter. No one is coming for you. Dumbledore is dead, don't you remember? Severus took care of him like the good dog he is." Harry pulled harder on his chains, attempting to thrash, but not having enough slack to do so. Suddenly he felt a moist warmth encase his as of yet flacid member. He let out a gasp, once again squeezing his eyes shut.

"What are you doing, you crazy bint?" He tried to move his hips, in an attempt to remove her mouth from him, only to find the chains stretch tighter. He cursed his hormonal teenage body as he felt himself growing erect in her mouth. He let out a groan, although he didn't know if it was because of the pain in his joints from the chains, or from her ministrations on him.

The warmth left, and Harry didn't know if he was happy or upset. "Your mouth says one thing, Potter, but your body says another. I do believe I'm going to have fun with you." He saw a flash of indigo, and felt a slight tingling on his shaft.

"What was that? What did you do to me?"

"Oh just a little something to keep you ready. I want you to see what I am going to do you to, Potter." Suddenly, he could see. He realized that it wasn't due to darkness of the room, but rather a spell that had been placed on him. He glanced to his right, and saw Bellatrix Lestrange kneeling there, completely nude. He quickly glanced away from her. "You don't like what you see? I'm insulted." He noticed something glint in her hand. His eyes widened as he saw a gleaming, curved dagger. "I see you noticed my toy. Here, let me make an introduction." She raised the dagger to his chest, gliding it lightly over his skin. "This dagger is very special to me. It has taken the lives - and bits - of innumerable men. And women."

He hissed when the blade made contact with his nipple. "You liked that, didn't you Potter?" Harry shook his head vigorously. She leaned down, pressing her lips to, whispering softly, "Don't lie to me, Harry." He cried out as she took his nipple into her mouth, and bit down sharply. He clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth as she yanked her head back up, taking the nipple with it. He saw he close her eyes as she sucked on it, savoring the taste.

"You sick bitch!" He cried, wincing in pain.

"Oh dear boy.. this is only the beginning.. only the beginning."

*Eight months later*

Harry laid in a daze. The only thing he thought of was the horrible smell emanating from him. He had long since lost track of time. He could have been there for six minutes, or six years. He had not been allowed to move a single time. When he had to go to the bathroom, he just went. His captors, for he had learned very quickly that Bellatrix was not the only one, had made pitiful attempts at keeping him semi-clean and healthy. He was force-fed three potions a day. He assumed that was the only reason he was still alive. He had not had anything to eat besides bits of his own flesh on occasion, the entire time he had been in captivity. He guessed he had been completely drained of blood at least 3 times. He no longer had a right hand, and his left hand was missing the pinkie and thumb. Severus had come in early on and cut an eye out of his head. He wanted them both, but Bellatrix told him she wanted Harry to be able to see what she did to him. The last thing Harry heard from the greasy-haired man was a moan of "Lily.."

Out of nowhere, Harry heard shouts. He looked towards the door, blinking apathetically. The shouts grew louder, and louder still, until the door was blasted apart. First, in came Bellatrix and Wormtail, followed closely by members of the Order of the Phoenix. They were rapidly exchanging curses, until a bright orange curse struck the chain attached to Harry's left ankle. He looked down, not knowing what he should do. He looked back over to the fight to see Wormtail on the ground, bleeding profusely. He glanced up in time to see Bellatrix drop the floor, her eyes glassy.

He looked up from Bellatrix to a man with shoulder length, bright red hair. He tried to speak, but he couldn't remember his name. Who knew he should know the name of this person, but he couldn't for the life of him recall what it was. Instead, he said, "Kill me. I want to die."

Although Harry lived another hundred and thirteen years after this, those words were the last ones he ever spoke.

Fin

Dear reader,

If this seems rushed, that's because it is. I had a muse, I started writing, but then I lost my motivation. I may add onto this at some point in the future. When I do that, I will write out exactly what happens to Harry in that 8-month period. I hope you enjoyed it at least a little.

Yours, always, -Dax