Chapter 36

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Harry watched the sun rise the next morning, his mind helplessly caught on a nightmare that he could not shake. He had woken up hardly touching Voldemort, but had since wound himself so tightly around him that it was a marvel that the Dark Lord had not noticed.

He rubbed his fingers over the silky-soft skin of the man's back and breathed in the comforting scent of his throat. Merlin, what was it about that long neck that consistently rolled his eyes back? He brought a hand up to lightly trace the protruding Adam's apple, amazed that his skin was still so perfect after all he'd been through.

All he'd been through.

Merlin. It haunted him.

He'd thought a long time this morning about Voldemort's panic attack last night. The man was still debilitatingly affected by what had happened to him, still plagued by flashbacks of abuses that he had endured. From the winning side— Harry's side. His friends.

Harry's nightmare had featured the entire Weasley clan lining up and viciously raping an immobile and collared Voldemort. Hitting him with curse after curse while Voldemort screamed for him. It had been horrific.

And it could have been reality.

He pressed his face against Voldemort's bare chest and willed his tears to dry before the Dark Lord awoke.

He had no idea who had… purchased Voldemort. Which of his friends had beat or raped or abused the man he loved. It was agony. He had tried not to let his thoughts stray there because he had been certain that Voldemort would never give him details, but after the vivid, gruesome nightmare he had to know.

The body he was embracing suddenly shifted and stretched in wakefulness. Harry stayed curled around him, refusing to let go. After a moment, Voldemort's arms came slowly to wrap around him more deliberately. One hand's fingers wound into his absurd hair and began to idly play with his locks.

They lay like that for ages and Harry tried to just enjoy the feel of the other man, his presence and safety, but his imagination would not rest.

"Voldemort," Harry began, and he felt the man tense slightly at his tone, his fingers halting their movement. "I need to ask you something."

"Harry."

And that was all he said, just the single word. It was almost a warning, an ominous acknowledgement.

Harry kept his face pressed tightly against that thin chest, savouring the steady heartbeat beneath his skin.

"Who," he breathed, his fingers clenching, but careful not to accidentally pinch. "Please. Who bought you."

Voldemort pulled in a quiet breath and held it. Harry waited, hating that he had to ask, hating that he'd brought Voldemort back there with this question, but he had to know.

"Please. I… had a nightmare."

Vivid flashes of it surged behind his retinas. George had placed a new invention, a spiked, metal dildo, into Voldemort and fucked him with it until his skin was in bloody ribbons. Percy had masturbated Voldemort the whole time, telling him about Fred and Ron, saying it was revenge for them, for the lives they could have had.

But Arthur had been even worse.

He closed his eyes.

"I need to know," Harry rasped. "These are my friends. My colleagues. My family. If they hurt you…"

"You will, what, Harry," Voldemort said coldly, pushing Harry back and away from him.

He watched the Dark Lord conjure clothing without a wand or incantation and then climb out of bed.

"You could not even summon the determination to avenge yourself against your own relatives. You will do nothing to those who…"

He trailed off, his expression clouding, and looked away. Harry sat up, pulling the blanket to cover his nakedness.

"I don't care about the Dursleys. But the thought of people I know and love touching you makes me… I want to kill them. I'm terrified of the violence I want to unleash. Please."

Harry shuffled forward and closed the distance between them, reaching up and actually getting to grasp Voldemort's hands.

"The Weasleys?" he asked. "Hermione? I know Neville…" bought you, bought you, "saw you, but who else? Please."

Voldemort's face was blank, but his eyes were shimmering with wild emotion. He looked trapped. Scared. It was jarring and Harry felt terrible for waking him up this way.

"It will not help," Voldemort said quietly.

Harry pressed his face against the cool fingers.

"You believe you want vengeance," he heard that treasured voice mutter. "That you will hurt those that hurt me."

Voldemort placed a finger under Harry's chin and guided him to meet that intense gaze.

"It is not your nature to do so, Harry. Nor is it your responsibility."

"But I need to know," he argued.

"Why? So you can torture yourself with information you cannot act upon? Would you slaughter your red-haired swarm if I told you they had touched me? Your Ginny?"

There was still deep bitterness in that tone when he said her name.

Harry closed his eyes and a tear escaped as he realized he never could avenge him. Harry was weak; his love meant nothing if it could not protect and Harry was unable to ensure Voldemort remained safe.

"Knowing will only hurt you," Voldemort said softly, walking away. "Leave the vengeance to me, Harry."

"Will you kill them?" he asked, not knowing how he'd feel if the Dark Lord said yes.

"Do not concern yourself."

Harry let out a frustrated groan.

"I hate this. You want to kill them, they want to kill you… there's no way out of it."

He looked up at the Dark Lord who was standing by the wall, watching him guardedly.

"Would you leave all this behind for me?" Harry asked timidly, the impossible idea suddenly coming into his desperate mind. "We could go anywhere, you and I, make anything we want of our lives."

The silence that followed was hell.

He scoured that tense face, watching for any sign of what the man was thinking.

"You are asking me to run away," Voldemort replied, voice measured but with a hint of disappointment.

Harry shook his head and then stood, completely naked. Ignoring his embarrassment, he quickly closed the distance between them.

"It's not running. It's choosing each other over vengeance. I love you more than my job and my friends and my desire to hurt the people who hurt you."

Voldemort's face was blank.

"And what of my plans, Harry? Would you ask me to abandon everything I have built, everything I deserve and have fought for?"

"You'd have me."

"I have you now."

Harry smirked, but it crumpled fast. He let out a long, defeated sigh.

"I'm not saying we should do it. I just… I'm just trying to figure out how we navigate this mess. I don't want you to hurt the people I care about and yet you're owed vengeance for what they did to you."

He shot Voldemort an apologetic glance and continued.

"But they only did it because you hurt them first, so—"

"Enough," Voldemort growled, and walked to the door. "I have something I must do. You will wait for me here."

"What?" Harry said, confused by the abrupt shift, and spun to face the retreating Dark Lord. "Where are you going?"

"It does not concern you."

"Voldemort," Harry said with such despair that the man halted and turned. "Please. Where are you going?"

The Dark Lord studied him for long moments.

"A walk," he whispered. "To think."

Harry searched his face for deception. Finding none, he nodded.

"Okay. Will you be back for breakfast?"

Voldemort inlined his head and then Disapparated.

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Breakfast was a quiet affair.

Harry's mind was filled with regret for upsetting Voldemort and worst of all, he hadn't even gotten any answers. He could have endured the stoney silence if it had been worth it, but all he had learned was that he was useless at protecting those he loved.

Which wasn't usually true. It was just that this particular fiasco pitted people he loved against each other and he had one foot planted in both camps.

He just needed them to stop fighting each other. Which was, of course, impossible considering who he was eating porridge with.

He looked over at Voldemort who was holding his spoon tightly as it rested against the bowl. His eyes were far away, but his eyelids lowered in annoyance when he clearly realized Harry was staring.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.

Voldemort glanced over at him.

"What are your plans for the day?" the man asked nonchalantly.

Harry blinked. He hadn't put any thought into it at all. He had just assumed he'd be staying for a while, but now that he considered that, it was really quite obnoxious to just invite himself over when the Dark Lord likely had other things going on.

"I can clear out after breakfast," Harry said, feeling his face heat. "Or now, if you have something to get to?"

Voldemort studied him.

"I am not throwing you out, Harry. It was merely a polite inquiry."

Harry felt a rush if gratitude and smiled at the Dark Lord.

"Oh. Okay."

He looked away, trying to figure out how to answer.

Unemployment left his days pretty much wide open. Hermione wanted him to bring Voldemort in, but that was never going to happen. He needed to pick up some groceries on the way home, grab some more Firewhisky, but he really didn't have anything worth mentioning.

"I don't have any plans," Harry replied, turning back to the other man.

Voldemort nodded, putting down his spoon and turning his attention fully onto Harry.

Merlin, the man's undivided attention was intoxicating. Terrifying.

"I have been thinking about my Horcrux under your arm." His eyes heated as he leaned forward. "I understand why you placed it there, but it is time I gave it a more permanent home."

Harry felt his hand clutch at his earlobe unconsciously. Voldemort's lips parted in a predatory smile at the action.

"That will no longer suffice."

Voldemort stood and came to Harry, lifting him out of his chair and placing him onto the tabletop. Harry's plate was digging into his arse uncomfortably, but then he felt a gust of magic and looked down to see their dishes cleared away.

He glanced up to comment, but got instantly caught in Voldemort's feral gaze. Long fingers slid from his armpits, where they had lingered after picking him up, to move slowly down to the front of his chest. Voldemort's eyes followed the movement of his own fingers.

"I find myself rather taken with the idea of marking you here," he said, suddenly grabbing hold of Harry's hardened nipple through his shirt and pinching it fiercely.

Harry squealed, almost hopping off the table, but Voldemort pressed him back, pushing him down under him to lay flat. His fingers continued to squeeze Harry's sensitized skin.

"What do you say? Will you let me pierce you here?"

Let him— let him— ha! Like he won't just do it anyways if I deny him.

Harry shifted his hips to cant against the man's hard body, closing his eyes. Fuck, he had not been allowed to come last night after all that teasing and his cock was eager to remind him of that fact.

Voldemort made a low, mocking sound in his throat.

"What a short memory you have, Potter."

Voldemort reached down and cupped Harry firmly through his trousers. Harry gasped and banged his head against the wood.

"I own your release," Voldemort whispered into his ear, and Harry struggled to pay attention to his words as all his focus was on that hand which was stroking him roughly. "My plan for the day is to keep you on the edge of orgasm and never let you claim it."

Jesus fuck.

Harry undulated his hips, chasing the pleasure Voldemort was giving him, hoping that this was more of the empty threats that Voldemort liked to use when they were intimate. He began to mouth Voldemort's neck, licking and sucking gently at the soft flesh, hoping to change his mind, if it was not.

"Did you hear me, Harry?"

Harry groaned releasing the delicious skin and falling onto his back.

"Yeah. You want to torture me," Harry groused. "I thought you'd said I was forgiven."

Voldemort blew out a breath that may have been a laugh. He ran a hand slowly through Harry's locks, tugging remorselessly when he encountered a tangle.

"I will never forgive you, Harry. You earned back your place in my bed, but it will take more than that to win your release."

"Fuck," Harry breathed, and closed his eyes. "Maybe I should just go home."

He didn't mean it and Voldemort wouldn't let him even if he did.

Swirls of Dark magic wound themselves around Harry's wrists again and he opened his eyes to see black bands holding him onto the table somehow. He slid his gaze to catch Voldemort smirking at him.

"You are not going anywhere."

Voldemort vanished his clothing and Harry's skin immediately erupted in goosebumps. He shivered, loving the way the Dark Lord's eyes perved his body, lingering at his groin.

"I am going to enjoy watching you suffer," Voldemort said, not even meeting his eyes.

Harry scoffed.

"You usually do."

The man's smirk grew wider, showing teeth.

"I do admit that watching you in distress pleases me. You give everything away, always shameless in your surrender."

Voldemort's fingers wrapped slowly around Harry's cock, his fingernails digging into the tender skin.

"You are mine, Harry Potter."

And then the Dark Lord Voldemort abruptly sank to his knees and swallowed his cock whole.

Harry bit into his lip, bashing his head against the table and plunging his nails into his palms as Voldemort worked him with his warm, wet mouth. He looked down to take in the view.

Merlin's hairy tits, he would never get used to this, to Lord fucking Voldemort kneeling before him and sucking him off. The man who had started two wars, killed hundreds of people— the sodding Minister for Magic! People feared to say his name and here he was— on his knees!— swallowing some scrawny, dorky unemployed man's cock. It was incomprehensible, impossible, and so much fucking sexier than anything else in existence and he was so close already, so close after being denied for so long and he wanted to come so badly, please let me come—

"Please," Harry moaned, his body tense and ready, but Voldemort ignored him and continued his task.

Harry almost sobbed, closing his eyes and trying to master the feeling of being right there, right on the edge, with Lord Voldemort's lips wrapped around his cock, his legs trembling and sweat beading on his skin, but each time he reached for his release it wasn't there, it just kept building and growing way past what he normally felt—

"Voldemort— Master. Please. Let me come!"

Nothing. That evil sodding bastard.

"I'm sorry," he tried, instead. "I won't do it again, he was nothing like you, nothing like this, I— ahh!"

Harry shouted in pain as Voldemort fisted his bollocks and squeezed. His breath caught and he held it, not daring to move.

The warm presence around his cock disappeared and Harry looked up to see Lord Voldemort leaning over him, a dangerous, possessed look in his eyes.

"You cannot imagine that I want to hear about that Muggle filth right now."

Harry took a deep breath, not daring to wiggle even an inch lest Voldemort yank his tender skin even more.

"I'm sorry," Harry panted.

Voldemort's expression remained dark, hard. Harry was desperate. Fuck, the firm pressure on his testicles was horrible, but his cock didn't get that message and instead pulsed with arousal at the sensation.

"Voldemort," Harry breathed. "I love you. Please. I'm sorry."

The fingers shifted and instantly sharp nails were piercing his bollocks and Harry screamed.

The mad prat tightened his grip.

"You—" Harry panted, tears leaking out of his eyes, "you were, fuck!" He took a shallow breath and tried to speak around the pain. "You were moving your Horcrux."

"I did not forget."

Harry groaned and forced himself to meet those blazing eyes.

"Fuck me while you do it," Harry rasped, and the fingers in his flesh twitched. Voldemort's eyes grew darker. "Do it. Fuck me while you mark me again. I'm yours, Voldemort. I'm only yours."

Voldemort stared at him, his red eyes shining in a dangerous, predatory way, but Harry held his gaze even as those fingers mercilessly clenched tighter.

"You do not give me orders."

"It's a plea!" Harry tried, damning the bastard and his stubborn pride.

"It is out of your control."

Harry thumped his head back against the table, his body going boneless in defeat. He closed his eyes, accepting the sharp tug on his ballsack, the tear he could feel from the man's nails. He had no power here, no voice or recourse.

"Fine," Harry whispered, feeling his body relax. "I give up."

Voldemort hummed lowly and then released him.

Harry gasped as the blood surged back into his testicles and they tingled maddeningly, his cock pulsing again, desperate to come. But that was no longer up to him.

He felt drugged. Empty. Servile.

It wasn't even the pain. As far as that went, this bollocks torture was fairly tame for his proclivities. Harry looked up and saw the calm confidence in that menacing, alien face and he revelled in passing the control over to someone who could take care of him. Who knew better. A man who would shoulder the responsibility for a while.

"Good boy," Voldemort commended softly, coming to lay on top of him, all his boney angles digging into his skin. "That is what I wanted."

Harry opened his eyes at the praise. Voldemort brought his own hand up and licked Harry's blood slowly off of his fingertips.

"Your surrender."

Harry moaned, watching that pink tongue circle provocatively around his digits, sucking the tips and removing the blood. His blood, on Voldemort's fingers.

Fuck, I am so hard.

"Accio Horcrux," Voldemort said in his ear and then pain erupted in his armpit as the metal ripped through his skin and landed in Voldemort's palm.

Harry shrieked, struggling to close his arms, to break free, but it was useless. Harry shivered, and with no other choice, accepted it.

"You will receive what I grant you when you submit to me, Potter," Harry distantly heard the Dark Lord mutter. "Your impertinence will win you nothing but distress."

Harry's eyes were watering again, but he took it all, letting Voldemort do what he would with him. He felt brittle, breathless.

"Yield. It is the only way."

Voldemort's magic sank into the skin of his left nipple, freezing him, his tiny bud tightening and hurting with the sensation. Through the discomfort, he was watching Voldemort watch him, the man's eyes intense, shifting to take in Harry's reactions, studying everything.

And then those long fingers reached out and pinched him, hard.

He shouted, the tiny nub a tight ball of sensitivity. Voldemort smiled then, but it wasn't a comforting one.

"You suffer so beautifully, my soul."

Harry's eyes flew wide, his heart bursting with joy at the name. Once before Voldemort had called him that and it was so impossible that Harry had begun to doubt whether he hadn't imagined it.

Harry hated pet names, usually. They were saccharine. Babyish. But this, from Voldemort, was on another level. It made him feel special. Cherished. Legitimate.

Voldemort continued, unaware of Harry's buoyancy.

"Escape is not an option."

Voldemort's fingers suddenly ignited with fire and his cold nipple seared with pain at the abrupt change in temperature. Harry looked down to see the flames, but realized it was just the man's magic, heating him until it burned.

"You will endure a bit more for me."

"It hurts," Harry moaned, wanting the pain to stop, but trusting Voldemort, needing the reassurance gifted with the sting.

"Mm, yes," Voldemort hummed. "I mean for it to."

Harry grimaced, sore, but his neglected cock was leaking with need.

He felt Voldemort shift and then lips engulfed his over-sensitized skin. He froze, muscles locked, fearful of what the Dark Lord would do with his mouth.

A rough tongue circled his abused nipple. Teeth lightly scraped his chest, gliding along his skin until they encountered the sore nub and caught on it, pulling it away until it was forced to graze roughly against the sharp teeth.

Harry was trembling, eyes streaming, his breath held, but so fucking turned on he would have come from this alone if he had been allowed. He felt worthless and vulnerable and terrified and all of the weak things his over-worked, guilt-ridden mind yearned to taste.

"Take this for me."

Harry closed his eyes.

The sharp pain of a needle pushing through his skin made his hips gyrate, made his head dizzy. He felt tears stream down into his hair, but they were not from pain.

He was owned, in that moment. He was claimed and sheltered. He was at the mercy of a man who wanted to demonstrate that he could handle Harry's pain and fear; that he was not afraid of the work it would take to put him back together.

The Horcrux threaded through his skin and it was done, but Harry suddenly couldn't catch his breath.

He was overwhelmed. Taking that mark again, placed there by his Master, it was too much. What it meant, what it would mean for their future, did they even have a future? How could they with who he was and who the Dark Lord fucking Voldemort was, how could Harry give him what the metal in his nipple promised if they were so different, so incompatible, how—

A sharp slap sent his face crashing against the wood of the table.

Harry was frozen, eyes wide, mouth open.

Obliterated.

"Look at me," that high, grounding voice commanded and Harry shifted so that he could obey.

"Let everything else go. I have you. You are mine."

Harry vaguely felt a hand wrap around his cock and pump him with firm, slow strokes. He keened, closing his eyes, but fingers cut into his chin to bring it back to face the other man.

"Open for me, Harry."

Harry let his eyes drift up and was met with Lord Voldemort's heavy, penetrating gaze. The man continued to stimulate him and Harry tried to focus on the sensation, but tears were welling up in his eyes and he was crying, silently, mortifyingly.

He tried to hide again, but Voldemort's magic brought him back, cradling and centring him.

"You are perfect like this."

Magic swept up and touched his skin, making it erupt in goosebumps and Harry was so close, he just wanted to come, wanted to reach that point where he could let it all go—

The wanking abruptly stopped.

After a few disbelieving seconds, Harry looked up, holding his breath, tensed and trembling. Voldemort hummed low in his throat.

"That will do for now."

The Dark Lord vanished the bands on Harry's wrists and he crumbled, flabbergasted and frustrated into Voldemort's arms.

He was lifted off the tabletop and when Voldemort sat back into a chair, Harry went with him, tucked up and shaking, onto his lap.

"Shh," Voldemort soothed, stroking Harry's back. "Let it pass."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to obey. His cock was pulsing with need, desperate to come, but he knew Voldemort was planing on following through with this threat, so there was nothing he could do. He had to just accept it. His bollocks tingled in an uncomfortable way, he felt shot through with adrenaline, his heart was pounding like he had just stepped off the pitch, but if this was what Voldemort demanded, then there wasn't much point complaining.

"You are doing so well, Harry," Voldemort murmured against his sweaty hair. "I can feel you relaxing, mastering your natural impulse to rebel."

Harry took in a deep breath, aware that that was exactly what he was doing. He was fighting his nature, because following the rules and surrendering to authority were both not comfortable for him.

Like Voldemort, he had never had adults he could trust or rely on fully. The Dursleys should have loved him, but they despised and neglected him. Teachers at Hogwarts he grew close to often turned out to be Death Eaters and even Dumbledore raised him to die and Sirius wanted a substitute James.

Yet he felt strangely safe with Voldemort.

As Harry pressed his wet face against Voldemort's clavicle, he huffed out an amused breath.

Sure, being with Voldemort wasn't healthy or sane. And yeah, they had a whole lot of unforgivable baggage between them. And maybe getting beaten and abused by a man who had spent most of Harry's life trying to kill him was a bit dangerous.

Absolutely fucking mental.

But there was no going back at this point. Voldemort was who he wanted. He was someone different now and although he was still bloody-minded and narcissistic, Harry would take full responsibility for his actions. He could influence him, and he would. Voldemort was worth it and Harry knew that there was someone there worth saving.

Harry had never been one to make decisions based on what he should do, anyway. He followed his heart and the man currently running his nails gently over his clammy skin, was who he wanted.