Hey everyone! Happy New Year! :)

I am super excited to finally post this story! :) It will have 15 chapters, it is not finished though, I am still working on chapter 13. The story will have spanking, cp, humiliation, fluff, angst, and a deaged Voldemort :D

I hope you like the beginning! :)

"Going somewhere, Black?"

The boy froze, his heart hammering hard against his chest. He had taken another staircase this time, hoping he would be able to prevent himself from running into them that way, but he had been outsmarted by his tormentors yet again.

Shit!

"I…uhm…just…"

"Eloquent as always, aren't you?", his nightmare stepped forward, flashing him a sardonic smile, "I know what you were trying to do- but you won't escape your punishment, Black."

Punishment for what?

"Wormtail, do you have everything ready for him?"

A chuckle, "yes, Mylord", Pettigrew sounded as smug as always, and he was grinning, exposing his rat-like yellowish teeth, "I have the potion right here", and he took a small vial out of his pocket, holding it in his dirty, wrinkled hand.

Sirius' stomach clenched. The last time he had been forced to drink one of their potions he had been vomiting his guts out, he had been lucky that his family had believed him the lie about being food poisoned by something he had eaten at Diagon Alley earlier that day.

"Please…I…don't do this to me", he was sweating now, staring at the potion in despair, "I…don't want this, I…", he was not able to finish his sentence because his tormentor grabbed him, spun him around and pressed him hard against the wall, "you don't want this, Black?", he hissed, his eyes dark red, "I am happy to force this down your brother's throat instead then- it's either you or him, remember?"

Sirius coughed, "you…are…choking…me", he was gasping, but the older boy did not bother to loosen his unforgiving grasp, "you better make your decision quickly then- who's it's going to be? You or your darling brother?"

Like that's an actual decision.

"M…e!", he was desperately trying to get air in his lungs, and finally, he let go off him, "smart kid", he was smiling at him again, and Sirius wondered for the millionth time how someone who was as good looking as Thomas- or Lord Voldemort as he was forced to call him- could be such a sadistic, cruel bastard.

The older boy certainly was attractive with his curly brown hair, his perfectly white teeth and his high cheekbones. He wasn't too tall for his eighteen years of age, but he had some muscles, and his expensive, tailored clothes just added to his overall appearance of handsomeness.

Sirius hated him, and he feared him- ever since his parents had made the decision to have both armies share the huge mansion close to Hogwarts to keep a better eye on Dumbledore and his shenanigans. And since the day they had moved in almost one months ago, Voldemort and Pettigrew had been torturing him. It had started fairly easy- some name calling, some harmless pranks- but quickly, it had escalated.

Pettigrew was too much of a coward to do anything on his own, but he gleefully supported Voldemort in making his life hell. Voldemort especially liked to beat him up and then magically reverse all of his injuries with a simple spell, and for whatever reason, he liked to play mind games with him- telling him that his brother had said something mean about him which turned out to be a lie, or making him spy on his parents, and they both enjoyed forcing him to drink all kinds of nasty potions.

Sirius knew why Pettigrew hated him- his parents had told the Ministry the truth about who really was responsible for betraying James and Lily, and even though the Ministry had not cared much for it, they had agreed to stop the Dementors from coming after him- but they were coming after Pettigrew now, who was consequently forced to live as a rat again- his Lord and Sirius were the only ones who knew that he was hiding at the mansion, everyone else thought he was on the run.

But he had no idea why Voldemort despised him so much. His hatred seemed much more personal in a way than Pettigrew's, which made no sense- he had known Peter for a long time after all, but not Voldemort. Hell, he had never even met the guy before they had moved in here.

Godric and Salazar had adopted him about six months ago, after they had deaged him to stop the Dementors from coming after him, and also because they had wanted him to have a second chance- to have a happy childhood, to have a family who loved him. He had been intrigued- and had agreed, which meant he was being nine years old again, he had actually just turned nine a couple weeks ago, on November third- and how different that birthday had been to the ones he remembered from his childhood, his Dad and Daddy and brother had gotten him presents, they had hugged and snuggled and kissed him all day long, loving on him, and they had played together, and he had gotten an enormous cake which he had been allowed to eat for breakfast…

Voldemort's cold voice interrupted his happy thoughts abruptly, "drink up then, brat", he got pushed against the wall again, and Voldemort held the foul smelling potion right under his nose which made him grimace.

Smells like rotten eggs.

He opened his mouth anyways, knowing that Voldemort did not make empty threats- he would make Aurelius drink this if he refused, and then he hastily swallowed the potion, knowing from experience that it was better to get it over with as quickly as possible.

He groaned, the taste was even worse than the smell, and he heard Pettigrew's sneering laughter in the background. God, he hated them so much.

"Do you want to know what this does, Black?", Voldemort asked him, a cruel smile on his lips, "or do you rather…be surprised?"

Pettigrew was howling with laughter now, but when Voldemort gave him a look, he instantly fell silent.

"Just…tell me", Sirius croaked, feeling miserable, and angry, and defeated all at once. He wished he could tell his family, tell someone- but he couldn't.

Not only would Voldemort go after Aurelius then, he would force them all to leave the mansion- and truth was, Dumbledore would probably show them all less mercy than Voldemort did. Sirius hated how much leverage the older boy had over them- his army was stronger than theirs, and Sirius knew that his parents had been trying to fight both Dumbledore and Voldemort for months, and at the end, they had almost gotten defeated because it had been impossible to fight two armies with one- even for two Founders.

Negotiating a truce with Voldemort had been their only option- since Dumbledore had flat out refused to even talk to them, he had made it clear that he wanted them all dead for having the audacity to try to stop his insane white-wizard-anti-black-magic-anti-everything-not-pure-and-white rampage.

"Ask me nicely then."

Sirius knew that it meant that he wanted him to beg- he could never get enough of him begging, and crying, and screaming.

But as terrified as he was about what the potion was going to do to him, he did have some pride left- so he bit his lips and stayed silent.

Big mistake.

Voldemort's face darkened, and now he did not look handsome anymore- now he just looked mean.

He pushed him against the wall again, more forcefully this time, and then Sirius felt a punch in his stomach which almost brought him to his knees, "you will do as I say, you worthless, spoiled, whiny little bastard!", he pulled his hair, making him scream out in pain, "beg me, Black- or I'll make you!"

Sirius was panting, desperately trying to stay on his feet, "pl…please", he whispered, hating Voldemort more than ever, "please…please tell me, I…I am begging you…"

Voldemort smiled at him, "see? That wasn't so hard, was it?", and he stepped back, which made Sirius stumble, but he caught himself just in time before he fell over.

"Now, the potion…what does it do again, Wormtail?"

Peter just grinned, enjoying the game, "I really cannot remember, Mylord. I truly am sorry", he sounded anything but sorry, and Sirius' terror grew. What the hell had they forced him to drink?

"Hmm…that's too bad, Wormtail. Such a shame", Voldemort replied, sounding…pleased, and he was still smiling, "I guess Daddy's little prince has to figure it out on his own then- such a shame, really."

Sirius was sobbing now, he could not help it, "please, I'm sorry…please, I'll do anything…"

And just like that, Voldemort's playful demeanor vanished, "stop the damn whining, Black! How old are you? Five? Grow the fuck up and stop bothering me! Get the fuck out of my sight now!"

The boy knew that whenever Voldemort was cursing like that, he was really losing it- and even though his stomach was hurting, he hastily left the staircase, running down the stairs and into the hallway as fast as possible. He made it into his room without being seen, and then he curled himself into a ball, crying silently into his pillow.

He hated living here, he hated all of this- he wanted to go back to Gryffindor Manor with his Dad and his Daddy and his older brother Aurelius, where he had been safe, and happy, and where no one had been hurting him.

And while Sirius was crying into his pillow, terrified about what was going to happen to him, the Lord and Pettigrew had excited the staircase as well- they were up in the owlery now, where no one bothered to go at this time. It had gotten cold, and it was snowing, which the owls did not mind of course.

They were silent for a couple of minutes, and even though his Lord seemed content staring off into space, Pettigrew grew bored fairly quickly. He did not have much of an imagination and he hated silence.

"Mylord?"

"What do you want, Wormtail?", he sounded annoyed.

"Uhm…the potion…what…was actually in it, Mylord?"

The Lord sighed, "nothing."

"Nothing?", Wormtail repeated, dumbfounded.

"It was a simple vitamin potion- it won't do shit to him."

Wormtail frowned, "but…why…"

"Why? So he can piss his pants for no reason", he smirked, "just a little mind fuck to remind him of his place."

"That's…brilliant, Mylord! Simply brilliant!", Peter said in awe, and his Lord shrugged, "still not good enough to get them to leave, probably."

"But…if they leave, we won't be able to play with Black anymore, Mylord", Pettigrew objected hesitantly.

"You are an idiot, Wormtail", he looked at him with a strange expression on his face, "the only reason we are torturing Black is to get him and his goddamn bunch out of here."

He was lying of course- it was not the only reason, but he knew Pettigrew would not understand him if he told him why he really treated Black like shit, hell, he hardly understood it himself sometimes.

"I…apologize, Mylord", Peter stammered, cowardly as always.

His Lord just waved his hand, obviously bored with him, "get lost- the Death Eaters are coming tonight, and I can't have you linger around then."

"Yes, Mylord", he whimpered, sounding more like a kicked dog than a rat, "always at your service, Mylord, I…"

"Get. Lost."

He turned around, not bothering to watch Wormtail obeying his order, and stared into the sky. It was still snowing, and he had always secretly loved snow- it was magical, and quiet, and…weirdly comforting. And damnit, he needed comfort.

Allowing Gryffindor and his pathetic little family to move into the mansion with their pathetic little army had turned out to be a huge mistake- but truth to be told, his army had suffered from the constant battles against Gryffindor on one side and Dumbledore on the other, and he had thought it would be smart to have them here, just like the old saying went: Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.

Huge mistake.

He watched one of the owls taking off into the sky, and for a second he just wished he could do the same- flying away from all this shitshow that was his life now, just…leaving it all behind.

"It's going to be okay", he muttered to no one in particular, "once they are gone everything will be how it used to be- and I'll be happy again."

Happy. Was that what he had been?

He kept staring into the sky until his face and hair were wet from the snow, and then he decided to get himself a drink. He had always liked to drink, not because he liked the taste of alcohol so much, but because he liked how it made him feel- and since there was no one who ever restricted his drinking, he had no problem emptying half a bottle of Firewhiskey for lunch, and having the other half for dinner.

He went back inside, shivering from the cold- he had not bothered to put a jacket on, thinking it would make him look immature and spoil his well-thought-out designer outfit. He much rather got cold.

No one bothered him when he went into his private quarters and poured himself a drink- he did have dozens of house elves for the job, but he did not feel like talking to anyone right now, not even a servant. He took the whiskey to his bedroom, sipping it and grimacing- he would never get used to the taste- and then he decided to take a nap. He knew that none of the Death Eaters would be suicidal enough to come knocking on his door and get him for the meeting, they would simply wait until he finally graced them with his presence, and the other day, he had made them wait for over two hours- not that anyone complained, obviously.

Let them wait- I don't feel like having a meeting today anyways.

That was the great thing about being Lord Voldemort- no one could tell him what to do. He was in charge. He smiled, taking another sip of his whiskey, and minutes later, he was fast asleep- only to be woken up an hour later by loud and constant banging on his door.

Cursing, he stumbled out of his bed, grabbing his wand. The lack of respect among his Death Eaters was really getting out of control if they really thought they could come here demanding shit from him!

Let's see who needs some Crucios- I bet it's that dumb fool Zabini!

He slammed the door open, wand raised, "what?", he snarled, ready to attack, when he realized that it wasn't a Death Eater standing in front of him, and it wasn't Pettigrew- it was Godric bloody Gryffindor.

The Founder just looked at him how he always looked at him- with a mix of contempt and annoyance, "we are having a meeting, Voldemort."

"It's Lord Voldemort- and what fucking meeting are you talking about? I know nothing about a meeting", he did not bother to lower his wand, furious at having his nap interrupted for bullshit like this, "if the Death Eaters complained to you…"

"They did not", Gryffindor interrupted him, "the meeting is to discuss Dumbledore's latest actions- and how we are going to respond to him."

He snorted, "like we could ever agree on a plan together- you want to negotiate, I don't. Meet with your little army for all I care- I'm going back to bed", he turned around, ready to slam the door in Gryffindor's face, but his voice stopped him, "some of Dumbledore's troops have been seen by our guards- he is coming closer."

"I thought you told him this estate is off limits, Gryffindor."

"I did."

He snorted again, it sounded amused this time, "looks like Dumbledore doesn't give a shit about what you say either- we should have attacked him weeks ago, ending him once and for all."

"That's why we should have a meeting, Voldemort."

He turned back around, facing the Founder who was looking as meticulous as always in his elegant dark blue robes, and he felt a wave of anger towards the older man, "fine, have your meeting", he spat out, "but this better be quick."

He meant to walk past Gryffindor, but the Founder stopped him again, "you should probably take a shower first- you smell like a bar."

His eyes turned dark red, and he was staring at Gryffindor in furious disbelief. What kind of fucking nerve did this guy have? First he banged on his door like some arrogant jackass, and now he was telling him what to do? He had never done that before, all of their conversations were about one thing, and one thing only- the war against Dumbledore.

And that's how he fucking liked it.

"Anything else? Should I maybe put some different clothes on? Or do something with my hair, Daddy?", he asked sarcastically.

To his surprise, the Founder just smiled, "brushing your teeth might be a good idea- your hair seems fine I believe", and then he actually reached out and very carefully raked through it with one hand, "a little tousled- but that's how you usually keep it, hmm?"

Tom was about to explode, and why the fuck did he like Gryffindor's hand in his hair?

Huge mistake. Fucking huge mistake letting them all live with him here!

"Get your fucking hand off me!", he hissed, his eyes sparkling with fury, "and for your information- I won't take a shower, I won't do shit- you better remember whose house you live in, Gryffindor- I am in charge here, not you!"

"Could have fooled me", the Founder was still smiling, but he had moved his hand back, thank God he had, "meeting starts in five minutes- I'll see you in the conference room, Voldemort", and then he turned around, and Tom could hear him humming something to himself like he had no fucking care in the world, and he slammed the door shut, fighting the urge to bang his head against it in rage.

Goddamn bloody Gryffindor!

He ended up brushing his teeth- but not because Gryffindor had told him to, of course not, but because he could not stand the sour taste in his mouth from all the whiskey he had drank.

He took his time, and when he finally decided to show up in the conference room, everyone was already there, waiting for him. All the Death Eaters sat on the right side of the table, and Gryffindor's sorry squad was on the left. They were all looking at him silently, no one daring to call him out about letting everyone wait- no one except Gryffindor, of course.

"I said five minutes, not fifteen", his voice was cold, "we've been waiting for you, Voldemort."

"You want me to go back to my room and let you wait some more, then?", he asked, casually strolling to his seat at the front of the table, "unless this meeting is about finally planning some kind of attack, you're wasting my time anyways."

"And that means you get to waste ours?"

They were both staring at each other now, and even though there were at least three dozen other people in the room, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"What the hell do you want from me, Gryffindor?", his irritation grew, "since when do you care about…shit like that?", damn it, he had almost said me, it was really time to get them the hell out of here, "I let you move in here under one condition- that I am in charge. You can call a fucking meeting all you like- but it's up to me if I want to attend it or not. Understand?", he knew he was walking on thin ice here, Gryffindor usually did not put up with even the slightest form of disrespect, not even from his own boys, but he was too irritated now to care, and if that would force Gryffindor to move out- even better.

He heard a few people gasp in shock at his rudeness, not that they were surprised- he was always rude, but he had tried to be at least halfway civil around Gryffindor- knowing that his magical powers were no match for the one's of a Founder.

Gryffindor's expression darkened, "I understand you perfectly well, Voldemort- you are in charge. Well, let's hear your plan then- how do you want us to respond to Dumbledore?"

Tom grinned triumphantly, he had won- he had taught that bloody bastard a lesson, and it felt so damn good, "we are going to attack, obviously", he replied arrogantly, "Dumbledore has been lying to us, he is basically mocking us at this point- it is about time he get's the answer he deserves. We are going to gather our troops, and in…three days we are going to storm Hogwarts."

There was some mumbling, most Death Eaters seemed more than happy with the idea of attacking and killing, but Gryffindor's group seemed hesitant.

"Hogwarts has its own army- which will be activated if we storm the school", the nerdy Mudblood announced, "Dumbledore has an advantage that way."

"Our combined troops are more powerful than any Hogwarts army", someone sneered back, and Tom realized it was Draco Malfoy. Why did he had the students allowed to join? These meetings always turned into a damn kindergarten thanks to them.

"I don't know if three days is enough time to get everyone ready", the werewolf now said, timid as always, "we have to…"

"How much time do you think you need, Lupin?", Snape shot right back, which he had expected, he never let the werewolf talk without interrupting him, "a week? A month? A year? This war has been going on for too long."

Lupin snorted, "I couldn't agree more", he hissed, glaring at Snape, but something in his voice told Tom he was not talking about the war against Dumbledore.

Minutes later, the meeting was in full force- arguing force. They usually ended up that way- with both sides shouting at each other, insulting each other and bringing up old grudges. There were no wands allowed at the meetings, something the Founders meticulously took care of, otherwise, every meeting would end in a blood bath.

And just like always, Gryffindor eventually casted a Silencio spell, effectively shutting everyone up.

"Our leader has spoken- and we will do as he says", he declared calmly, "we are going to gather our troops, and we will storm Hogwarts in exactly three days from now", he gave him a quick look, "since you are so eager to attack, I am assuming you want to be at the forefront?"

Tom grinned, "of course I do!", he sounded smug, ignoring the fact that the troops up front would be the first ones to die. He needed this victory, and he did not care how many of his Death Eaters were going to get killed, as long as he survived at the end.

First Dumbledore, then you, Gryffindor!

Gryffindor did not respond, he just looked at him, a thoughtful expression on his face, "meeting concluded", he eventually said, still looking at him, "let's go, Order."

His abject army got up, following him like the sheep they were, ignoring him like they always did- only the girl who always had her head in the clouds, Lovegood, shot him a quick, presumptuous glance.

Little bitch.

"Malfoy, get the word out about the attack- and Snape, go and check what Dumbledore is up to, and Goyle, Zabini, Crabbe- get me all the info about that Hogwarts army you can find. Parkinson, make sure we are stocked with healing potions", he rattled through, "we'll have another meeting tomorrow at six. Get out."

He did not wait for any questions or remarks because he did not care for them- instead, he just stormed off, looking more than ever like a defiant teenager, even though he was technically an adult being eighteen years of age.

He had gotten sick and tired of his snake persona, the deformed nose which did not let him breath, the thin lips that felt strange whenever he spoke, and the bald head which really made him feel cold all the time, especially since it was winter now. He had messed around with some potions, the plan had not been to look like a fucking teenager again, but an adult, but something had gone wrong- so now he was forced to walk around looking like he just graduated from Hogwarts. At first, it had been utterly mortifying, but by now, he had gotten used to it- and the one Death Eater who had dared to make a joke about his new appearance had gotten tortured to death by him, so there was that. Unfortunately, the potion had not only transformed him into an eighteen year old physically, but also mentally- and that part he still found humiliating.

He decided to go to bed early, and spent the night finishing the bottle of Firewhiskey and imagining how it would feel to be the one to kill Dumbledore. He got drunk enough to sleep most of the next day, barely awake for the meeting at six, and he only listened with one ear to what the Death Eaters had to report.

After the meeting, he felt the familiar urge to do something- something bad. Something…evil. Black was most likely in bed already, cuddling with his Daddy, but he was certain Wormtail would have an idea of what do to, even if it did not involve having some fun with Gryffindor's spoiled brat.

He went to Pettigrew's usual hiding spot, an empty room in the west wing of the third floor, and hissed to tell him he was here.

Seconds later, the ugly looking rat from the corner transformed back into Peter Pettigrew, looking just as ugly.

"M…mylord!", he bowed his head respectfully, "anything…you need?"

"I am bored", he told him, "I want to do something. Any ideas?"

Peter did not even blink at the tone of his Lord and Master, he had gotten used to strange requests like that one, "playing with Black?"

"He's asleep- it's almost ten", he informed him, knowing that Pettigrew had no sense of date and time since he spent most of his existence as a rat, "any other ideas?"

"We could…go up to the owlery and test some spells on them", Pettigrew suggested, an evil glint in his eyes. He hated the owls, knowing that they all would more than gladly have him for dinner when he was a rat, and since he was petty and could hold a grudge, he enjoyed tormenting the beautiful creatures.

"That's…boring", Tom lied, not wanting to tell Wormtail that he secretly liked the owls- he actually liked most animals, but he knew that it would go against his image to admit that.

"Let's go outside", he eventually said, "I need some fresh air."

It was snowing again, and he was not wearing a jacket again, while Pettigrew was bundled up, looking like he was about to travel to Antarctica. He hated the cold, and he was quite displeased with the fact that he had to go outside now, but he would never have dared to object.

No one saw them when they left the huge mansion through a side door, and minutes later, they were in the park surrounding the house. The snow was softly falling to the ground, and Tom had the sudden urge to play with it, to do something silly, to build a snowman, but he suppressed it. He always did.

"See the guards?", he pointed at two men by the fence, "I bet they are bored from standing there all day- let's do them a favor and entertain them a little."

Wormtail's haggard face lit up, "what do you have in mind, Mylord?", his voice sounded sly.

Tom just grinned, and then he bent down and formed a snowball, "watch me", and then he aimed the heavy snowball right at one of the guard's head- and threw.

They heard an angry sound, and then suddenly, all hell broke loose.

"Intruders!", someone shouted, "arrest them, they are over here!"

Shit!

yeah...that's it for now :D Tom will be in quite some trouble in the next chap lol.

I would really like some feedback from you! :)

xoxo,

Antonie :)