WARNINGS: torture, Muggle killings, mild slash
Text like this is parseltongue. - this is also supposed to be underlined, but the site keeps it in italics only! grr
Previously: Harry runs to Voldemort because he is tired of Dumbledore's schemes. But once he's there and can't escape, he realizes his folly, only to be thrown in the dungeons. He is later claimed as Voldemort's "pet". He dreams about Sirius telling him to escape from Voldemort, who later gives him the tour of the Manor, which he remembers later to escape. He runs to a village near the Manor, and collapses on the porch of the nearest house.
Harry was dreaming.
It was dark again, this time the foreboding hit his cold body with as much force as a speeding train. Slowly, a dim light appeared in front of him. It grew bigger, as if something were pushing him towards it. He found himself back in the hallways of Malfoy Manor. He was continued being pushed forwards, without even moving his feet, which seemed to be glued together. In fact, his entire body was stiff; the only things he could move were his eyes.
The blonds glared down on him from their portraits, jeering. Death Eaters lined the walls, their eyeless masks all turned towards him. Harry swallowed. It was eerie. The masked men stood stoically, the only sign that they weren't statues was the turning of their heads to follow Harry's progress down the halls.
Harry looked towards the end of the hallway. Standing in front of the door he had used to escape was Lord Voldemort himself, crimson eyes fixed on Harry's form, face emotionless. In his right hand he held two wands, his own and Harry's, and in his left, a dog collar.
Harry's scar burned. A scream tried to tear itself from his throat, but his lips would not move to let it out, remaining stubbornly together as if they had been sewn shut. The imaginary white-hot poker continued to push itself onto his forehead, making the nerves all over his body light up, as if he was being electrocuted. His limbs trembled, his fingers shook. He wanted to scream.
"Where are you, my pet?" Voldemort asked, eyes wide, looking strangely confused. "Why would you leave?" The question echoed through the hall. The portraits were silent. The Death Eaters didn't even dare breathe.
Harry could not answer. He did not want to.
"Where are you…" Voldemort purred sadly, coming towards him and circling his now still form. He stopped in front of him and gripped his chin carefully, tilting his head up so their eyes would meet. Harry looked away, his mouth hanging partially open in a painful gasp that was caused by his searing scar.
"Look at me, pet," the Dark Lord commanded soothingly, but it did nothing for Harry. His eyes started to water. Voldemort's hand burned his jaw.
"No…o," the raspy sound somehow managed its way out of his throat. The burning in his scar intensified as Voldemort used his other hand to hold his head in place and force their eyes to meet.
Immediately the world started spinning. All he could see was crimson. Distantly he could hear screams, snarls, begs of different kinds. His escape from the Manor started appearing in flashes through the crimson swirls. How the corridors has seemed endless. How he had threatened the portrait. His joy at being able to escape. How he had ran down the road before collapsing onto—
An agonized moan tore itself from his throat as Voldemort gave an insane grin.
"Don't worry, pet, we're coming," he whispered in his ear, before letting him go. Harry fell, but instead of hitting the floor, he kept on falling, until he bolted upright, a shout making its way out of his mouth.
Panting, he looked around frantically. He was in some strange small room; the wallpaper was white, and the twin sized bed he was on creaked as he shifted. The door on the other side of the room was white, and the only window in the room was above the bed. There was a small light wood chair in the corner, and a lamp in another.
(Muggles) his mind supplied.
He looked down to find that he had been stripped down to his underwear, and that his feet were tied to the foot of the bed. His hands, forcefully balled into fists to prevent him from using his fingers, were tied together.
He froze up. (What is this?) He forced himself to swallow and pushed his glasses up further onto his nose. His fist touched something wet. He pulled his hand away and realized that there were tears. Frowning he wiped them away. So Voldemort had found him? A slight shiver ran through his body. If these people were Muggles…
The door suddenly creaked open. In stepped a man who Harry guessed was in his forties. It was a bit difficult to tell because of the angry sneer on the man's face. In his hands he held a double barreled shotgun. He walked in cautiously, eyes never leaving Harry's face. He stopped about three feet from the bedside.
"Who are you, boy?" the man demanded, his voice hard and low.
"I'm…Harry…Potter," Harry stuttered hoarsely, eyeing the gun warily.
"Where'd you come from?"
"The manor down the street." The gun immediately found its way between his eyes.
"I knew it," the man snarled. "Mary, go downstairs." A woman he hadn't seen before, hiding behind the man, immediately fled.
"No, no!" Harry protested. "Please, they were holding me prisoner. They tortured me…"
The gun was lowered a tiny fraction. "What did you say, boy?"
"They were holding me prisoner—"
The man's eyes narrowed. "Down over at that shady manor?"
"Yes."
The gun lowered further, until it was only pointing at his leg, and not at his face. "Those people…no, those monsters… they came over here a few weeks ago, waving these little sticks around and shooting lights out. Somehow managed to kill most of us, these freaky lights. Even when we ran…they just reappeared in front of us…"
The man stared at the floor, talking in low, nearly incomprehensible mutters. "They got Mary's sister, right in front of her… I saw them shoot down ol' Tod down the street…"
"How did you get away?" Harry whispered in horror.
"We hid under a car…Mary nearly gave us away…but they didn't even look over… Tried to get letters out to her parents, but electricity's been cut…no post…barely any water…they're too close, we can't leave…fuck, it woulda been better to have just died when they first came…" His crazed eyes lifted to meet Harry's. His voice retook the hard edge it had before. The gun was again lifted to his face. "That's why we won't take any chances."
"No! Honest, they were keeping me prisoner—"
"Shut it boy!" the deranged man roared, butting Harry's forehead sharply with the gun. "We want nothing to do with them! We didn't do nothing! Nothing boy—"
The man was abruptly cut off as there was a strange sudden green flash, matched by Harry's soft cry as his scar started burning. He looked out the window, eyes nearly popping out of his head. A vein in his forehead started throbbing dangerously. Harry was forcibly reminded of Uncle Vernon whenever he was about to explode.
"YOU CALLED THEM HERE, BOY?" he shouted. "MARY, TAKE COVER!" He then took aim at Harry's forehead, his finger shaking badly on the trigger. Mary screamed from downstairs. The man whipped around, torn between helping her and getting rid of the boy that brought those freaks back. But the sight of the figure in the doorway made him freeze, the gun slipping from his suddenly limp hands.
"You dare mistreat my pet this way?" Voldemort hissed, ruby eyes glinting in the green light of the Dark Mark. The man shuddered and tried to back away. "Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort only glanced at the figure on the floor before turning his gaze on Harry's body. A wide smirk split his face as he looked up and down.
Harry felt his face heat up. "Voldemort…" he started angrily.
The Dark Lord stepped on the dead man's body and muttered a spell to cut Harry's bindings. He then removed them with his hands, cold fingers lingering longer than necessary, "accidently" touching his stomach. "No one is allowed to mistreat you, pet." Those rubies gave a flash of sadistic humor. "Except for me, of course."
"I guess you don't know you're a bit late then," Harry bit out through the pain of the Dark Lord's proximity.
"It seemed we missed a few Muggles last time we were here," Voldemort said conversationally. The bindings now lay on the floor, covering the Muggle's face. Those cold fingers still lingered, tracing random patterns on Harry's skin. "But don't worry; we've gotten them all this time. There'll be no more running from you," Voldemort declared, suddenly cold. He suddenly swooped down, the pain in Harry's scar increasing a thousand times over. His fingers pinched and twisted his exposed nipples cruelly, sending electricity through his body and making him cry out.
"If you dare run from me again," Voldemort hissed quietly in parseltongue over Harry's soft cries. "I will hunt down every person you have ever cared about. I will torture them myself. In front of you. Only after they have begged a hundred times for death shall it be granted. And they will die the most painful way possible, do you hear me?"
Harry nodded frantically, trying feebly to push the much stronger monster off of him.
(Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes please please I'll do whatever you say just please please don't oh please)
Satisfied, Voldemort pushed himself up, fingers trailing down in their natural movement. His nails lightly raked Harry's sides. He pushed himself off the bed and stood, pocketing his wand.
"Come pet. We might catch an infection from staying here," he held his hand out. Having no other choice, Harry took it and was pulled to his feet. Voldemort led them out of the room, through the narrow hall, and down the stairs. As they went through the living room, he saw Mary, lying on top of a table and covered in blood, her shirt ripped open and breasts exposed. A large cut traveled from her collarbone to her hip, cutting her left breast in two. Harry gulped but Voldemort didn't even glance her way.
"What about my clothes?" Harry asked, voice shaking.
"What about them?" Voldemort asked coolly, continuing out of the house. The night was warm, but a shiver still ran through Harry's body.
"I'm cold, Voldemort," Harry snapped.
"You'll live," was his only response.
They approached the Death Eaters, who immediately bowed low to their master. Some, after straightening, leered at Harry, who glared back.
"Burn it all," Voldemort commanded. "Nott, Yaxley, walk my pet back to the Manor."
"Walk, my Lord?" came a confused voice, probably Nott's.
"Yes, Nott, walk. As in the action of putting one foot in front of the other? Surely you have done it before…"
"Yes, of course my Lord," Nott said, bowing again.
Voldemort turned to the shivering Harry. "Behave, pet," was the only thing he said before Disapparating away.
The rest of the Death Eaters grumbled and turned to the village, starting to cast fire spells at the various houses and cars. Yaxley and Nott took one of his arms each and started pulling him down the road. Small rocks dug into Harry's feet. The wind chilled him, but not nearly as much as the presence of the two Death Eaters at his sides. He tried twisting out of their grips, but they only tightened their hold.
"Don't struggle Potter, wouldn't want my hand to slip would you?" Yaxley whispered menacingly in his ear. Harry immediately froze up.
"You wouldn't…"
"No, he probably would," said Nott, smirking. "Yaxley has a thing for little boys, don't you?"
"I'm not little…" Harry protested.
"Doesn't really matter Potter, you've got a cock don't you?"
Harry flushed angrily. "I'll tell your Master all about this."
Yaxley shrugged. "My punishment won't be anything compared to yours, Potter."
Harry swallowed and focused on the road.
By the time they reached the Manor, Harry's arms and feet were aching. The throbbing burn in these areas contrasted with the chill of the rest of his body. Neither Nott nor Yaxley had offered clothes, not that Harry had actually expected them to, but it would have been nice.
Peter Pettigrew was waiting for them at the door, occasional shudders wracking through his body. Harry didn't bother to try and prevent his sneer.
"The Dark L-l-lord awaits his pet in his room," the sniveling rat stuttered, shrinking down at the look Yaxley was giving him. He gave a small grunt of disdain before turning away and hauling Harry up the stairs, Nott following.
The walk up to Harry's room was made in silence, and only augmented the trepidation wracking his body. Whatever Voldemort had planned…
After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived in front of the dark wood French doors. Nott and Yaxley, still keeping firm hold on Harry's arms, each took a door handle and swung them open. Harry struggled more as they forcefully dragged him inside. Voldemort was sitting at the desk, a knife resting on his thigh, stroking the barn owl's head gently. The bird shuddered as one of his nails went through its soft layer of feathers.
"Pet…"he purred, ruby eyes glinting with eagerness. "You're finally back."
Harry simply mustered the filthiest glare he could in response.
Voldemort rose. "Leave us," he dismissed the Death Eaters, eyes never leaving Harry's. They bowed and exited, closing the doors behind them.
Voldemort circled him slowly, much like he had in his dream. Harry tried to repress his shudder as he felt those eyes take in his form again. Voldemort raised a hand and pressed the knife against his shoulder. Harry let out a tiny flinch as he felt the sharp blade puncture his skin.
Voldemort leaned closer. Harry could feel him breathing on his neck. "If you were anyone else, I would have fed you alive to Nagini."
"You know I'm not anyone else," came Harry's simple reply.
"Which is exactly why I must punish you more…" The knife touched his wound. Harry flinched away. Abruptly, he was shoved on the bed, Voldemort's weight pinning him down.
"I love to hear you scream, did you know that?"
And scream was the only thing Harry did for the rest of the night.
So how was it? I had the most difficulty with the Muggle scene in the beginning. I hope the "mild slash" was overkilled either. It was simply meant to make Harry uncomfortable, to show Voldemort invading his space, not to seem too sexual. Please don't forget to review! I was so disappointed last chapter because I only got one review for it. :(
