"Avada...Ava....SHIT!" exclaimed Draco, his voice breaking, falling onto
his knees, the wand dropping with a clatter, rolling underneath the bed.
"I... I can't... I can't... I just can't, you fucking bastard!" he
screamed, head buried in his hands, tears leaking down his face.
Voldemort looked disgusted. "You weak fool," he whispered. He looked at Draco with contempt, as he grabbed the back of his robes, hoisting him to his feet.
Draco looked furious, as he trained his eyes on Harry's. Harry could see the pain, the suffering, the hatred, the fear, all swirling in the tragic beauty of the deep grey.
Voldemort pushed Draco forward, so the he stumbled onto the bed, knocking hard against Harry and his father. He tried to get off quickly, but Voldemorts' hands were pinning him down.
"Lucius," he hissed, "get off the bed." The other man complied, sliding out from the sheets, moving to stand across the room, shivering from his lack of clothing. Harry felt cold, from the loss of body heat, from the rage rolling off Draco, from the piercing stare of the man that killed his parents, killed his friends, killed at will.
"Now," Voldemort spat, "since young Master Malfoy seems so fond of our Mister Potter, let's give them a chance to catch up, shall we?" His strange red eyes seemed to glow in the semi-light of the room, seemed to flicker with hatred and evil and amusement. Draco looked at Harry in surprise.
"What do you mean?" he asked, voice wavering slightly. Voldemort smiled, a terrible, terrible sight. His lips curled upwards, exposing sharp canines, which glinted like knives.
"Why, Master Malfoy, I'm allowing you some time to have Harry, before I kill you both," he said softly, eyes dancing. Lucius made a sound from the corner, but the Dark Lord hushed him. "Come now, Lucius, see how weak and pathetic your son is? He can't even say the words properly, never mind have the strength to actually kill." Lucius' eyes glinted, but he stayed where he was.
"Now. Come on, have at it," Voldemort continued, a sick look of glee on his features. Harry looked at Draco. He felt sick, felt horrified, felt completely powerless to the situations around him. Draco gave a shudder, then pushed himself up on his elbows, glaring at Harry. It was too much. Harry could feel Draco's strong glare from next to him, Lucius' pointed stare from across the room, and Voldemort's sick, twisted eyes, trained on his nude form.
"Now!" Voldemort barked. Dracos' face drained of color. He twisted himself fully around, maneuvered himself onto Harry, eyes shutting tight. He lowered his head, pressed his lips against Harrys', tongue darting out to push past the barrier. Harry's head swam, as he felt Draco's body settle over his own, felt Lucius still staring, felt the fear course through his veins, making the blood pound in his ears. He felt like he was drowning, drowning with no one to grab hold of him. No one to save him.
A hiss of laughter escaped Voldemort's throat. "Hurry now, boys. We've not much time."
Draco whimpered against Harrys' mouth. Harry felt his hands move against their own will, to Draco's shirt, shaking, as they undid the buttons. He ran his hands over the familiar skin, feeling the warmth radiating off it, feeling it shake beneath his hands. Draco's own hands slipped downwards to tug his pants off, shivering as he succeeded, and pressed his body fully along Harry's.
Harry, much to his disgust, found himself unbearably aroused, felt his cheeks flushing with shame. He moved to grab Draco fully, hearing the small cry the other boy gave as he did so. He gave a few strokes, watching as Draco tossed his head back, felt as Draco's tears fell onto his own face.
His eyes went to Voldemorts', seeing the glee that was reflected in them. "Lucius," he hissed. "Go on now, have your share of fun."
Lucius looked slightly disgusted, although he moved towards the bed. He looked at the Dark Lord, a strange expression across his face. "Go on, Lucius. Don't make me angry."
Draco's eyes snapped open and widened, as he felt his father stroke his back, as he saw his fathers' other hand reach around to stroke Harry's face. He shook even harder, making Harry tremble beneath him.
Voldemort still watched, eyes trained directly upon the unfolding scene, fire burning in them.
Lucius moved behind Harry, pushing his back up. Harry, not ready for it, tumbled forward, reversing his position, landing atop Draco. Lucius kissed his shoulder, trailed his tongue along the ridge of his spine, nipped at his earlobe. Draco, still shaking, was grabbing at Harry, pumping now. Harry himself was on overload, unsure of what to do, unsure of if he could even do anything at all. Lucius moved a hand down Harry's back, fingers preparing him. Harry choked and turned his head away, only to meet the gaze of Voldemort.
He stood against the wall, staring, eyes flickering, fingers clenched at either side. In that moment he looked like Tom, the Tom that Harry had come face to face to. It sent a fresh wave of terror through Harry's system. He remembered being in the chamber, being terrified of dying, praying that the other boy wouldn't kill him. Riddle had only been a boy then, but he had been so far gone, even at that point, that it was enough to haunt you, to send fear driving through your heart, to make your blood run cold, to make your head spin. And now, as he was older, more evil, it was a hundred time worse, a thousand times worse. Those horrible eyes, the features that while still handsome, were etched with evil, etched with death and destruction, letting you know that death and defeat were unavoidable, that there was nothing that anyone could do to save you now.
Harry's thoughts went back to the situation at hand, as he felt Lucius push into him. He gave a low moan, hands grabbing Draco's shoulders, nails digging into soft flesh, making Draco moan as well. And then Harry was preparing Draco, was pushing in, was completing the twisted puzzle that Voldemort had concocted.
His senses were going haywire, all he could feel was pleasure laced with pain, as he moved his hips forward and backward, into the only men he had ever had feelings for. Draco was breathing heavily, hands clutching Harry, head thrown back on the bed. Lucius was steadily pumping, hips moving in a rhythmic pattern. His mouth left Harry's skin only to moan or sigh, and then was back again, biting, nipping, licking, sucking. The older man was holding Harry's hips, creating their own rhythm, as Harry pushed between him and his son. His movements were jerkier now, and he put a hand on his son's shoulder, in order to steady himself, and perhaps steady Draco as well.
And then Harry's vision exploded, as the most intense pleasure he had ever had tore through his body, making him shudder, causing a howl to be ripped from his throat. And Draco came too, screaming. And then Lucius came, clamping his teeth onto Harry's shoulder, moaning against his skin, body shaking.
All three collapsed onto the bed. Draco was crying, curling himself into a ball. Lucius pulled away, slumping to the ground. And Harry, Harry sat against the headboard, gasping for breath, terrified that he would die on the spot.
Voldemort laughed softly, maliciously. He pulled his own wand from his robes, twisted it between his fingers, spun it around and around. "How does it feel now," he asked, "to have a final taste of the forbidden? To know that that was the last time you'll get to feel that pleasure?" His eyes narrowed. "To know that to disobey me is to seal your own fate? That to go against power is to be killed by power? I failed once with you, Mister Potter, but that will not happen again." He stopped twirling his wand.
He snapped his fingers, and Harry felt his body get up. He struggled, but couldn't stop himself from moving to stand before Voldemort, who grinned wickedly. "And... how does it feel to be helpless? To be nothing? To be powerless?" he asked, and then bent down and captured Harry's mouth with his own. Nausea overcame him, as Voldemort kissed him, as his tongue danced with his own, as his long, spidery fingers grasped his skin, as pain shot through him, as terror burned. He choked but couldn't pull away, his knees buckled, his head spun, his heart pounded. Voldemort finally released him, letting him collapse upon the floor.
"How does it feel? Does it scare you? Does it terrify you?" He kicked Harry in the ribs, making him gasp in pain. He put his foot firmly on Harry, his boots digging into his flesh. "Does it, you horrible nuisance? Are you scared? Are you wishing for death?"
Harry gasped again. "I wish for nothing." Voldemort growled.
"You are a stupid boy! A very stupid boy, indeed. A meddling, disgusting, little worm, that has no place being alive!" he hissed, digging his heel further into Harry.
"Stop," said Lucius suddenly. The Dark Lord's eyes flew towards his follower.
"What, Lucius, did you just say to me? Did you dare to tell me to stop?" he asked, voice dripping with venom. Lucius paled but looked determined.
"I said stop it. You are too powerful and terrible to be torturing the poor boy like this," he said, his handsome features revealing nothing. Voldemort looked slightly confused, as though unsure of whether to listen to the other man, or simply kill him as well.
Voldemort laughed then, a high, cold laugh. "Why, Lucius," he said slowly, "I rather hope that you are not too attached to the boy. I sincerely do." He looked down at Harry. "For your sake and his." Then he kicked Harry once more, and the world turned black.
Voldemort looked disgusted. "You weak fool," he whispered. He looked at Draco with contempt, as he grabbed the back of his robes, hoisting him to his feet.
Draco looked furious, as he trained his eyes on Harry's. Harry could see the pain, the suffering, the hatred, the fear, all swirling in the tragic beauty of the deep grey.
Voldemort pushed Draco forward, so the he stumbled onto the bed, knocking hard against Harry and his father. He tried to get off quickly, but Voldemorts' hands were pinning him down.
"Lucius," he hissed, "get off the bed." The other man complied, sliding out from the sheets, moving to stand across the room, shivering from his lack of clothing. Harry felt cold, from the loss of body heat, from the rage rolling off Draco, from the piercing stare of the man that killed his parents, killed his friends, killed at will.
"Now," Voldemort spat, "since young Master Malfoy seems so fond of our Mister Potter, let's give them a chance to catch up, shall we?" His strange red eyes seemed to glow in the semi-light of the room, seemed to flicker with hatred and evil and amusement. Draco looked at Harry in surprise.
"What do you mean?" he asked, voice wavering slightly. Voldemort smiled, a terrible, terrible sight. His lips curled upwards, exposing sharp canines, which glinted like knives.
"Why, Master Malfoy, I'm allowing you some time to have Harry, before I kill you both," he said softly, eyes dancing. Lucius made a sound from the corner, but the Dark Lord hushed him. "Come now, Lucius, see how weak and pathetic your son is? He can't even say the words properly, never mind have the strength to actually kill." Lucius' eyes glinted, but he stayed where he was.
"Now. Come on, have at it," Voldemort continued, a sick look of glee on his features. Harry looked at Draco. He felt sick, felt horrified, felt completely powerless to the situations around him. Draco gave a shudder, then pushed himself up on his elbows, glaring at Harry. It was too much. Harry could feel Draco's strong glare from next to him, Lucius' pointed stare from across the room, and Voldemort's sick, twisted eyes, trained on his nude form.
"Now!" Voldemort barked. Dracos' face drained of color. He twisted himself fully around, maneuvered himself onto Harry, eyes shutting tight. He lowered his head, pressed his lips against Harrys', tongue darting out to push past the barrier. Harry's head swam, as he felt Draco's body settle over his own, felt Lucius still staring, felt the fear course through his veins, making the blood pound in his ears. He felt like he was drowning, drowning with no one to grab hold of him. No one to save him.
A hiss of laughter escaped Voldemort's throat. "Hurry now, boys. We've not much time."
Draco whimpered against Harrys' mouth. Harry felt his hands move against their own will, to Draco's shirt, shaking, as they undid the buttons. He ran his hands over the familiar skin, feeling the warmth radiating off it, feeling it shake beneath his hands. Draco's own hands slipped downwards to tug his pants off, shivering as he succeeded, and pressed his body fully along Harry's.
Harry, much to his disgust, found himself unbearably aroused, felt his cheeks flushing with shame. He moved to grab Draco fully, hearing the small cry the other boy gave as he did so. He gave a few strokes, watching as Draco tossed his head back, felt as Draco's tears fell onto his own face.
His eyes went to Voldemorts', seeing the glee that was reflected in them. "Lucius," he hissed. "Go on now, have your share of fun."
Lucius looked slightly disgusted, although he moved towards the bed. He looked at the Dark Lord, a strange expression across his face. "Go on, Lucius. Don't make me angry."
Draco's eyes snapped open and widened, as he felt his father stroke his back, as he saw his fathers' other hand reach around to stroke Harry's face. He shook even harder, making Harry tremble beneath him.
Voldemort still watched, eyes trained directly upon the unfolding scene, fire burning in them.
Lucius moved behind Harry, pushing his back up. Harry, not ready for it, tumbled forward, reversing his position, landing atop Draco. Lucius kissed his shoulder, trailed his tongue along the ridge of his spine, nipped at his earlobe. Draco, still shaking, was grabbing at Harry, pumping now. Harry himself was on overload, unsure of what to do, unsure of if he could even do anything at all. Lucius moved a hand down Harry's back, fingers preparing him. Harry choked and turned his head away, only to meet the gaze of Voldemort.
He stood against the wall, staring, eyes flickering, fingers clenched at either side. In that moment he looked like Tom, the Tom that Harry had come face to face to. It sent a fresh wave of terror through Harry's system. He remembered being in the chamber, being terrified of dying, praying that the other boy wouldn't kill him. Riddle had only been a boy then, but he had been so far gone, even at that point, that it was enough to haunt you, to send fear driving through your heart, to make your blood run cold, to make your head spin. And now, as he was older, more evil, it was a hundred time worse, a thousand times worse. Those horrible eyes, the features that while still handsome, were etched with evil, etched with death and destruction, letting you know that death and defeat were unavoidable, that there was nothing that anyone could do to save you now.
Harry's thoughts went back to the situation at hand, as he felt Lucius push into him. He gave a low moan, hands grabbing Draco's shoulders, nails digging into soft flesh, making Draco moan as well. And then Harry was preparing Draco, was pushing in, was completing the twisted puzzle that Voldemort had concocted.
His senses were going haywire, all he could feel was pleasure laced with pain, as he moved his hips forward and backward, into the only men he had ever had feelings for. Draco was breathing heavily, hands clutching Harry, head thrown back on the bed. Lucius was steadily pumping, hips moving in a rhythmic pattern. His mouth left Harry's skin only to moan or sigh, and then was back again, biting, nipping, licking, sucking. The older man was holding Harry's hips, creating their own rhythm, as Harry pushed between him and his son. His movements were jerkier now, and he put a hand on his son's shoulder, in order to steady himself, and perhaps steady Draco as well.
And then Harry's vision exploded, as the most intense pleasure he had ever had tore through his body, making him shudder, causing a howl to be ripped from his throat. And Draco came too, screaming. And then Lucius came, clamping his teeth onto Harry's shoulder, moaning against his skin, body shaking.
All three collapsed onto the bed. Draco was crying, curling himself into a ball. Lucius pulled away, slumping to the ground. And Harry, Harry sat against the headboard, gasping for breath, terrified that he would die on the spot.
Voldemort laughed softly, maliciously. He pulled his own wand from his robes, twisted it between his fingers, spun it around and around. "How does it feel now," he asked, "to have a final taste of the forbidden? To know that that was the last time you'll get to feel that pleasure?" His eyes narrowed. "To know that to disobey me is to seal your own fate? That to go against power is to be killed by power? I failed once with you, Mister Potter, but that will not happen again." He stopped twirling his wand.
He snapped his fingers, and Harry felt his body get up. He struggled, but couldn't stop himself from moving to stand before Voldemort, who grinned wickedly. "And... how does it feel to be helpless? To be nothing? To be powerless?" he asked, and then bent down and captured Harry's mouth with his own. Nausea overcame him, as Voldemort kissed him, as his tongue danced with his own, as his long, spidery fingers grasped his skin, as pain shot through him, as terror burned. He choked but couldn't pull away, his knees buckled, his head spun, his heart pounded. Voldemort finally released him, letting him collapse upon the floor.
"How does it feel? Does it scare you? Does it terrify you?" He kicked Harry in the ribs, making him gasp in pain. He put his foot firmly on Harry, his boots digging into his flesh. "Does it, you horrible nuisance? Are you scared? Are you wishing for death?"
Harry gasped again. "I wish for nothing." Voldemort growled.
"You are a stupid boy! A very stupid boy, indeed. A meddling, disgusting, little worm, that has no place being alive!" he hissed, digging his heel further into Harry.
"Stop," said Lucius suddenly. The Dark Lord's eyes flew towards his follower.
"What, Lucius, did you just say to me? Did you dare to tell me to stop?" he asked, voice dripping with venom. Lucius paled but looked determined.
"I said stop it. You are too powerful and terrible to be torturing the poor boy like this," he said, his handsome features revealing nothing. Voldemort looked slightly confused, as though unsure of whether to listen to the other man, or simply kill him as well.
Voldemort laughed then, a high, cold laugh. "Why, Lucius," he said slowly, "I rather hope that you are not too attached to the boy. I sincerely do." He looked down at Harry. "For your sake and his." Then he kicked Harry once more, and the world turned black.