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A/N: do i really have to? o.k. i'm still not and i don't own. y'all know the rest.
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Chapter 11
"Friend? Can you stop him from doing it to her?" it whispered, raising hopeful sapphire blue eyes that were brimming with tears at the painful confession.
"What do you mean by a 'pretty girl can see you'?" Harry sharply asked.
Tommy cringed and whimpered, "Don't be mad at me, Friend. I don't know how she did it, but the pretty girl saw me once before. It was right after I met you that first time. You know, when you told me to listen to that powerful wizard and then left."
Harry drew in a deep calming breath.
Scaring the shit out of the scrap of Voldemort's humanity wouldn't accomplish anything other than to cause it to not listen to him or to call on him any more. Trust was a word that this child had never learnt. Love was another.
So Harry slowly nodded his unruly dark head and managed a weak smile, to let the child know that he wasn't really angry; he probably felt that enough from Voldemort.
"Go on. You can tell me what you know about it, and I'll try to figure it out," Harry gently encouraged with a more firm 'fake' smile in place.
"Are you sure you're not mad at me?" Tommy whined again, desperately seeking his only friend's approval.
"Of course I'm not mad at you, Tommy," Harry finally managed to say the name, and was amazed that it had passed his lips without him bursting out-loud in laughter.
How the powerful and all-mighty Lord Voldemort would rage if he only knew that his humanity was named Tommy!
Harry's smile became genuine, and little Tommy relaxed and smiled back at his friend.
"W-ww-well, see . . . this pretty girl looked at me when he took her wand. That's when he decided to do the nasty thing to her. He made the strong wizard get her for him. Should I still listen to him? Is he bad now, too?" Tommy asked through quivering lips.
He looked for all the world like he was about to cry.
Harry sucked in a sharp breath.
Sweet Merlin, please don't let it be Hermione!
His heart thumped painfully in his chest in his fear. What this about the dark Potions Master?
Had Severus truly turned to the Dark Side?
How long had he been stuck in the Station before Tommy had summoned him again?
"I don't know," Harry replied to the boy's questions, covering them all with that truthful blanket answer. "But I intend to find out. Do you know the pretty girl's name?"
"Yes," he brightly answered. "He dreams of it often. It's Lucy, or Luneicy. Something pretty like that. It gets mixed up in here sometimes."
Harry felt a sharp pain within his chest as his heart clinched again.
Not Hermione then. But who . . . oh no!
"Could her name be Luna?" he softly asked.
Tommy vigorously bobbed his head in his childish agreement.
"Damn," Harry whispered.
That single whispered naughty word froze Tommy's blood.
He was so frightened now that he had to struggle to get his breath back. He knew that the nasty wicked thing must be a bad thing; whenever HE did it, it made him tingle uncomfortably and caused 'creepy-crawly' feelings down there. It was like pain, but not like pain.
Tommy didn't like the weird feeling because HE did like it. And He liked it a lot!
It had to be a bad thing. Tommy was truly terrified, and he clutched at Harry's hand as if it were a lifeline.
"Will you stay with me?" Tommy whispered back.
"Yes," Harry firmly answered. "I won't leave you until I know what is really going on."
"Good."
That was Tommy's only reply.
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Bellatrix led Luna up towards the former Headmaster's Chambers. Luna softly sighed when she realized just where their destination would be.
Dumbledore had always singled her out for kindness and candy. He'd told her that she reminded him of his sister when she'd been a young girl.
His door was always open to her.
He saw what none of all of her other teachers, even her Head of House, had ever seen; the other girls always mocking her, being cruel in stealing her things and calling it a friendly prank, and that horrid nickname 'Loony'.
Dumbledore had seen the secret pain she'd felt inside at being so bullied, so mistreated, so utterly friendless from her very first year at Hogwarts.
It was a soul-deep pain that she'd covered up with her nonchalant humming and skipping; exploring the Dark Forest all alone for hours to visit the unicorns and thestrals because they didn't judge her for not 'fitting in'.
That peaceful alone-time had allowed her the time and distance to push the agony deep down inside so that her tears never fell in public. Her silent tears only came at night, in the privacy of her curtained bed, high in Rowena Ravenclaw's tower.
When Dumbledore had first started comparing her loneliness to Harry's, in the privacy of shared sherbert lemons and his cozy fireside, Luna suddenly realized that the Headmaster wasn't speaking aloud the words that she was hearing inside of her mind.
That was the first time that Luna Lovegood had unconsciously performed Legilimency.
She slowly began to think of Harry as her secret friend as she watched him being singled out and bullied even worse than herself during the Tri-wizard Tournament.
As she trained under his tutelage in the Room of Requirement as a member of Dumbledore's Army, Luna couldn't help but fall in love with the awkwardly shy, but powerful, Harry Potter.
His feelings for her Ravenclaw sister, Cho, were plainly obvious. Luna settled for Harry's friendship; his destiny didn't lie with her anyway.
How bizarre that the only place she'd ever been comforted and felt sheltered while a student here at Hogwarts was now to be the place of her ultimate degredation; the surrender of her maidenhead to He-who-was-now-her-husband.
Fate is a cruel bitch and Destiny is her sister! If only it could be Harry coming to take me instead . . .
"Well here we are, my pretty! What can I get for you?" Bellatrix' voice broke into her reverie.
Luna blinked. She looked blankly around the chamber. It was totally different now; maybe she could do this after all.
"Did you hear me? I asked you what can I get you; and make it quick, girl. Your husband grows impatient for me," Bellatrix added with a knowing smirk, thinking the stupid little chit wouldn't catch the double entendre.
The stupid little chit caught it just fine; Bellatrix was her husband's lover.
"I don't suppose you'd get me my wand would you?" she said, staring Bellatrix directly in the eye. At the sudden dropping open of Bella's jaw, Luna continued, "No, I suppose not."
She didn't skip.
Luna gracefully glided over to an intricately carved, but dainty, rosewood chair near the roaring fireplace and sat down like a queen would assume her throne.
Bella swallowed hard. There was something about this girl that was different. How had she missed it? There was real power here; inside of this tiny young witch.
Of course the Master would want her.
Bellatrix LeStrange respectfully bowed her head to the girl enthroned before her.
She became the very first of the Inner Circle to address Luna by her now proper title, "My Lady, please forgive me. May I be of service to you? May I fetch anything for your comfort? What do you desire?"
Bella's questions quickly spilled, almost one atop the other, from her blood-red lips in her sudden anxiousness to please the new Dark Lady.
Luna smiled.
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Harry looked out of the ruby windows of Voldemort's eyes and scanned the situation.
What in the world had they done to the Great Hall? They'd dolled it up like some weird Grecian temple. Is Lucius Malfoy acting as some kind of priest?
Dear gods! It's a wedding; Voldemort's marrying . . . Luna!
Harry paused for a moment as he had an epiphany of sorts; this wasn't the wizarding world that he remembered anymore.
This was Voldemort's world now.
Whomever had managed to survive the war would continue to do so by any means that they had to. Who was he to judge them?
At least Voldemort was marrying her first before he took her.
He could have made her his whore, or worse; she could've been passed around amongst a gang of horny Death Eaters until they'd quite literally fucked her to death.
He'd convince Tommy to protect and care for Luna to the best of his young ability.
That part should be easy enough; the boy already seemed to like her, and he thought that she could see him.
Harry sadly smiled. Maybe she did see Tommy inside of here; Luna had that special way of seeing beauty where no-one else could.
But to have to endure Voldemort's having sex with her!
Harry froze; he slowly turned to look back at the scabby little blue-eyed boy who'd cringed back into his usual corner. It couldn't possibly be more than nine years old.
It'd be an unwilling, frightened, forced participant in the act; no wonder he was terrified.
No matter what it'd had to endure before whatever power had sent him to help it, Harry wasn't about to let a child suffer through that again if he could help it.
Harry himself hadn't begun to be attracted to girls, or even to tentatively imagine what to do with them, before he'd developed his all-powerful first crush on Cho during his Fourth Year.
If only there was some kind of way he could take Tommy's place for this abomination, he'd gladly do so.
As Harry turned back around to go try to comfort the suffering little scrap of cowering humanity, he suddenly felt something hard and cool in his pants pocket.
He felt a frisson of deja vu slide down his spine as he remembered how he'd retrieved the Philosopher's Stone, and the very first time that he'd ever met Voldemort face-to-face as an eleven year old boy.
He very carefully reached into his pocket. His fingers wrapped around a small, cool, glass vial of some sort. When he withdrew it, he instantly recognized it for what it was.
Sirius had provided him with enough of it during his Fifth Year, quite illegally of course, so that he could at least have a few peaceful night's sleep whenever he'd become too mentally exhausted to go on.
It'd been all that had helped him keep hold of his sanity while Voldemort had tortured his dreams and waking mind alike that year.
It was a tiny blue vial of Dreamless Sleep Draught; perhaps Tommy wouldn't have to be aware of what was to come after all.
Harry didn't dare question the where-for's or why-come's of where it had come from.
He simply accepted that it was real and that it was there, and silently thanked whatever or whomever had seen fit to be merciful to a child.
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Luna's Wedding Night
What Voldemort found upon entering his chambers after the awarding ceremony:
There was a small fire cozily burning in his fireplace; it smelt faintly of applewood and myrrh.
A blazingly white vision of pure beauty sat before it in the little carved rosewood chair that he'd personally selected for his new bride as a wedding gift.
He might be Lord Voldemort now, but he still had Tom Riddle's critical eye for spotting rare, beautiful, and valuable, antiques.
That chair had once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw herself. It was fitting that it now belonged to another Ravenclaw; his own Dark Lady, just as Salazar and Rowena had been lovers.
Voldemort felt it when the breath left his body; his heart hammering strangely within his chest.
He'd had more pussy in his long lifetime than a cat-horder. What was it about this young witch, and his eager anticipation of taking her into his bed, that made him actually sweat and tremble within his skin like a virgin school-boy?
Voldemort allowed his eyes to drift slowly over the girl before him.
Merlin's Balls! She's so beautiful; her pale hair nearly to her waist, I'll forbid her to ever cut it; the perfect alabaster complexion; and those dove-grey eyes that see so deeply inside of me, but still she does not flinch away in horror. The silk and lace of her lovely white gown covering, but revealing, just as a virgin's should be . . . and she's MINE . . .
"Would you care for some champagne, sir? It was a present from Minister Malfoy, and I think it must be a very expensive, very good year," Luna softly chattered away, suddenly terrified beyond what even she had expected, in an attempt to buy herself some more time.
Voldemort smiled at her; Luna swallowed hard. He decided to allow her a few more moments to compose herself.
"Of course, my dear. Shall I pour?" he softly said. This was fine; he could do this. It'd been nearly forty years since he'd had to do it, but he still remembered how to seduce a virgin.
It had also been years since he'd attempted to allow another person to have at least semi-equal standing in his presence; but as his wife, he'd try for her. As his Consort, he owed it to her.
At least in private; in public it would never do.
In public he'd always be Lord Voldemort, sole and final lord and lawgiver; liege lord to over twenty thousand Death Eaters. In private, he could relax himself with and for her; and he could make it so very good for her in return for her obedience and loyalty.
Best make that plain to the girl even before the honeymoon had begun.
Voldemort popped the cork of a nearly two hundred year-old bottle of Dom, and silently filled two delicate crystal flutes. He passed one to his bride; the other he carried to the tall-backed black leather wing chair facing her, and sat down.
"To Luna; whose beauty rivals the Moon herself," he toasted the girl. They both drank. He deeply, her delicately; her very first taste of champagne tickling her nose and clinging sweetly to her palate. This was to be a night of firsts all around for Luna.
Luna stared into the bubbles racing to the top of the wine in her flute for a moment. She really didn't know what to call her husband, and felt like anything she chose would be the wrong thing.
Her lip suddenly quivered in her nervousness. She took another small sip of her champagne.
Voldemort stared at her in consternation. Has this girl never received a compliment before? Instead of thanking him prettily, as most witches would have done, she instead appeared ready to cry.
More gently than he'd tempered himself to do in years, Voldemort tentatively touched the girl's mind with his own. She gasped, and her lovely grey eyes jerked up from her glass to meet his own ruby eyes. "Sssh," he soothed her. "Let me see what is troubling you, my child."
Perhaps this was the easier way; she nodded her head and gave him entry to her mind.
It was the first entrance of Voldemort into her person of the night; and she could feel that he was trying to be gentle.
Legilimency was always painful if done by someone who was not Eildarvitch. Perhaps he'd decided to be just as gentle with her physical body. She could only hope.
In addition to the beautiful negligee that Bellatrix had provided for her, she'd also provided her with a frank witch-to-witch sex-talk about some very intimate details of Voldemort's preferences, and the messy pain she could expect to have to endure this first time.
Luna hadn't demanded that Bellatrix never service her husband again; but by simply being herself, Luna had quite accidentally made a friend of Bella.
The mad witch had taken it upon herself to volunteer to act as her Lady in Waiting and Protectress.
No one could have been more shocked at that turn of events than Luna herself.
"Stop. Stop that," Voldemort sternly said as he abruptly withdrew from her mind.
Luna looked into his eyes, his revealing then concealing his self-disgust; her own honestly puzzeled. "Stop what, sir?"
"Stop thinking that if you do or say the slightest thing wrong, I shall hurt you," he softly answered. "I will not lie to you about that honest quirk of nature. Yes. You will hurt, and I will be the source of your pain. It is unavoidable and a fact of life. However, after the pain will come much pleasure; this I promise you. Much pleasure indeed."
Silently, he passed her a handkerchief and she wiped her moist eyes and the single little drip from one nostril. They both picked up their glasses again and sipped the cool, delicious wine.
Wine that had cost enough galleons that the single bottle would have paid the tuition of four students for a year at Hogwarts. But, damn! It was excellant.
Lucius just earned a point up in his Master's esteem. He wasn't out of the woods yet; but if Malfoy kept this up, he might get there eventually. Eventually being the primary time-frame.
After their second glass, the Dark Lord stood up and extended his hand towards Luna.
"Shall we retire, my dear?"
Luna's face went even whiter than her negligee, but she set down her wine glass and accepted Voldemort's hand without flinching and allowed him to lead her into their bedchamber.
to be continued
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A/A/N: okay. put down the rope and slowly back away. there will be no hanging from this tree today. simply a word-of-warning: the next chapter will contain MATURE ADULT CONTENT. Please skip it if you are not currently of legal age in your particular state/country; or have a dislike of lemons for any reason. signed, the author
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