Title: Anno Domini Voldemort
Author: Seguchi Touma
Warnings: Violence, spoilers, sexual situations and themes, adult language, yaoi/slash. The introduction to this is done in first person from multiple points of view. Following chapters will be third person.
For Kate, as all my Harry Potter stories are.

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Prologue – The World Ended
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Ron Weasley

I gaze up at the new calendar, staring blankly at the picture of the wizarding world's new lord and master. Perhaps he is of the entire world now. I don't know. The year is One ADV… Anno Domini Voldemort. The Year of Our Lord, Voldemort. In the daylight, I find it hard to believe that he defeated us, not to mention how he defeated us.

In the icy grip of the endless seeming nights, I cry in remembrance.

The picture upon the calendar of the new ruler sitting upon his throne with Nagini wrapped about it draws my eyes back even as they try to break away. It's without surprise but a sinking heart that I see that the picture is now smirking at me instead of its formerly cold and distant glare.

Rising from my chair, I take the calendar down, wondering idly who bought such a thing to bring in here, the last safehouse of the Order of the Phoenix. Probably not one of my brothers. They hate our new lord more than anyone on the face of the earth, I think. He did raid the Burrow and reduce our mother to screaming pillar of fire when a simple Avada Kedavra would have killed her painlessly. Her eyes cooked in their sockets before death took her. I should know. I heard them pop like the seal of an overstressed boiling pan of water. Our father survived, although in my heart, I think it would have been better if the Dark Lord had taken him that day too. The gods forgive me, whatever gods might hear our pathetic cries and prayers, but I do. He's lost without Mother.

Percy still lives, as does Fred, George, and Charlie. Bill was slaughtered along with the goblins when the Dark Lord and his forces stormed Gringotts. With Hogwarts falling, the wizard bank was considered by the survivors to be the most secure place to hide. Oddly enough, for all their twisted seeming, the goblins took in as many as they could before Voldemort attacked. They all died together.

So many gone… If a man lives with ghosts, I surely do.

The one ghost that never leaves my side is that of a young boy, perhaps fifteen. He was my best friend. With glasses perched on his nose and messy dark hair always refusing to be tamed, he still brings a small smile to my face whenever I catch glimpses of him in my memory. His emerald eyes are always alive then, sparkling with the victorious glee of winning a Quidditch match or getting some devilment past Snape.

Snape is in Azkaban. We don't know if he's alive or dead there. The Dark Lord never was forgiving to those who tried to betray him.

I miss that boy who haunts my memory, even as I gaze at the coldly imposing figure of our new Lord on the calendar, tracing the lightening shaped scar on the man's forehead.

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Hermione Granger

"Out of the way, you Mudblood cunt!"

I had sidestepped that Goyle waste before he was even close enough to shout his insult and take a swing at me. I think he likes doing that sort of thing anyways to try to embarrass me. Stupid git. Becoming one of the new Dark Lord's closest cronies hasn't given him anymore intelligence. Neither did seeing his former leader, Draco Malfoy, enlighten him on just how fleeting the favour of evil is.

This isn't where I expected to find myself at the tender age of eighteen. Then again, I don't think that any of us did. I had thought that I might be some famous researcher or even a teacher at Hogwarts, not a common tavern girl that wasn't even good enough for the wizards to sleep with. After the fall of the forces of good, so many things changed. The fact that I can't wear robes by law is a small one. I can't wear makeup or shop at certain places. I'd often heard of segregation, but experiencing it is a wholly different thing. I may be a bright witch, but because I'm not a pureblood, I'm not fit for most of these people I serve drinks to and bear the sly pinches of to wipe their feet on.

That's what the coming of the Dark Lord did for 'half-breeds' like myself. I fear to see what he'll do to the Muggle population if he ever gets into position or the urge to conquor them as well. I asked Parvati about what she thought would happen if he did. She only shook her head and said she rivers of Muggle blood if he did.

We weren't able to stand against him in the end. How could they.

Parvati is here with me too, only she's a prostitute. 'Spend the night with a Gryffindor woman' is what draws most of these dark ones from what I've seen. In that way, I pity her for being a pureblood. Her twin sister, Padma, is part of the Dark Lord's Court. A minor lady if I remember correctly. One sister lies in filth ridden sheets being used nightly by strange men while the other dances in splendor at the balls in what was once Hogwarts.

The lines between those who stood with the Dark Lord and those who stood against him are razor sharp.

I don't want to tell her or the other girls that Sirius Black has been captured finally and sent to Azkaban. He was our hope for a time. So many of us had hoped that the man who had been Harry Potter would show him some mercy. He didn't to the Dursleys when he had their house incinerated. Remus Lupin is still free, as are the Weasleys, Filch, Madame Maxine (although the Dark Lord had Beauxbatons burnt to the ground), Moody, Pince, Sprout…

Then rolls the list of dead or missing through my mind. Severus Snape, last known to be in Azkaban. Minerva McGonagall, burnt at the stake during the new Dark Lord's coronation. Albus Dumbledore, the first victim of the new Voldemort during the war. Bill Weasley, presumed dead in the fall of Gringotts. Molly Weasley, murdered in her own home by fire as Ron and I watched in horror. She tried to defend us from him, begging him to remember who he was. He ground his foot into the sweater she had been making him before setting her alight. Rubeus Hagrid, fate unknown. He went into the Forbidden Forest to help the centaurs hold back those of the darkness. He never came back, and Maxine is four months along with their child.

It's heartbreaking, but there are plenty of children without a mother, a father, or having lost both parents. Here in the gutters, few notice them. Nor do they notice me beyond someone to slap or grope when the mood strikes them. I bring them their liquor. That's all I exist for to them. Even then, they complain that they can taste the taint of Mudblood in their vile brews.

In the early morning hours after closing, I'll go and sit upon the roof, watching the sun rise as I send off my owl with the night's spying information off to Ron. Then, I'll try to choke down a worm-ridden crust of bread.

I wasn't there for the final battle or when Harry Potter declared himself to be the new Dark Lord.

I'm not sure I would have wanted to be. This way, I can remember the boy I loved a little and liked a lot. I don't have to see him as the man who has slaughtered so many with his laughter ringing like the shriek of harpies.

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Sirius Black

I'm not really surprised that the wizard's prison hasn't changed much. Only real change that I can see is that the good people are on the inside now rather than the outside. Well, that and time hasn't made the Dementors any prettier. Not that I can see all that well anyways. Amos Diggory blackened both of my eyes to being swollen nearly shut. The turncoat bastard. After the final battle when we lost Minerva McGonagall, we knew there was a spy in the Order. None of us expected it to be Diggory of all people. The Dark Lord had killed his only son! We were all wrong, again. Diggory betrayed us all and our location to Voldemort.

My only comfort in that is that Ron and Hermione had left early, avoiding capture by chance. Remus hadn't been able to make it in time. I was the only one left who had any real knowledge of things, besides Diggory. When they were dragging me before the Dark Lord's throne, I could hear Diggory shrieking far off down the corridor that Voldemort had double crossed him, something about promising to bring Cedric back from the dead if his father helped him. News came later to me in my rat strewn cell that they had executed Amos and that his head sat out on a pike on the road to Hogwarts.

I was able to meet those vicious dark green eyes of the thing that had been my godson, although I wish I hadn't. I hope with all that I am that somehow the Harry that I knew died before Voldemort joined with him. In the end, it doesn't matter. I would kill him anyways, and he knows that. It will kill me to do so, of that I'm quite sure, but I would do it. It would free the godson I only wanted to see live out his life in happiness from whatever twisted creature he is now. Better he be dead than this. I doubt anyone will ever remember him as the Boy Who Lived or as the one who risked his life against Voldemort for other's sake. The evil that men commit in life always outlives the good. I miss my Harry, and I am glad that James and Lily didn't live to see this.

A bone rattling shove and tumble pulls me out of my thoughts as I blink blearily in the bare pinpoint of light illuminating the cell in which I now find myself. Lemme tell you, that little bit of light sure did make Walden MacNair's already pug-ugly face all the more squished looking. You know, I'm willing to bet that me breaking his nose when I was captured didn't help his looks much, although I really doubt it hurt them. That man ran blindly through the ugly forest.

It's easier to ignore being spat upon than one would think. It's just liquid. It's not as bad as being pissed on. Trust me on that, especially to a canine's nose. I wipe it away and eye him. That child that was intentionally dropped on his head by his mother turns away, wishing me good luck with my roommate.

Roommate?

Feeling my way about the carved stone cell, I try to ignore the sounds of Akzaban around me. It's a horrible place. There's always someone crying, screaming, begging, or making some sort of sound that only a human in utter misery can. The Dementors silence them before long. I nearly jerk back as my hands encounter something marginally warm in one of the corners. In total darkness, it's hard to tell a face, but the lines of this one feel familiar beneath my fingers.

And then it hits me.

"Snape? Severus Snape?"

What my eyes can't confirm, my sharp sense of smell can. Pulling the emaciated male into my arms, I held him as if he were the last person on earth for no reason other than simply joy at a familiar presence. No, we still weren't the best of friends or even friends really. However, he was here and real when nothing else was. Beggar dogs like me can't be choosers. At the sound of my voice, he stirred sluggishly and croaked out my name.

Then the cold chill of a Dementor drawing out my joy descended upon the two of us like early winter.

The rest was darkness.

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Draco Malfoy

Today is Court Night. I despise these things. At least I'm clothed this time. Not that I mind in the least being naked in his presence. My Master would pluck the eyes of anyone daring to look on me covetously with a pair of white hot pincers. I simply prefer not to be buck naked before all the others trying to worm into his favour.

My place is beside the Dark Lord's throne on the floor, a fine warm blanket of unicorn pelts making a mattress of sorts for me. There's room for me to stretch out if I desire. For now, I do. An intricately woven blanket lays unused for now beside me. The heat of the day still warms the Great Hall of Hogwarts, leaving it unneeded.

Resting my head on the goose down pillow under my chin, a soft rattle of chain gains my annoyance. One end of it is attached to the collar bound around my throat, a collar that has no end and no beginning. The other end lies clasped about the wrist of the person who was Harry Potter, now the Dark Lord, Voldemort. Hardly seems fair, does it? Rolling my eyes, I ignore the petty whining wizard before us who is begging for help since the Death Eater razed his shoppe and all its contents. My Master evidentially isn't paying attention either since I feel his fingertips begin to slide through my hair absentmindedly. Lifting my head, I encircle a fingertip with my lips, a swirl of my tongue across the well manicured tip providing him with other thoughts of what we could be doing instead of listening to this puling weakling.

Sultry green eyes lower to my own of quicksilver. It's easy to becoming lost in his gaze for me. Then again, I've never had to meet his with fear of destruction or pain. They're endless corridors of green, more shades than the human tongue is capable of naming. When he's angry, taints of crimson line their edges, the pupil shifting from a circle to a slit. Gods, but I love being fucked by him when he's like that. I can feel the restrained power of the ages lashing through the body of the eighteen year old that it now inhabits, taste it on his skin like some exotic chocolate.

A hint of a twisted smile turns up his lips as his fingers draw away from my lips with an audible 'pop'. They slide once more through my hair and down to my back, drawing arcane shapes on the thin material as his eyes turn back to the pleader. I know the poor fool before us is lost. If he makes it out of the room alive, I'll be impressed. Weakness has no place among us.

Lowering my head back to the pillow with a purr at the feathery touches roaming across my spine, I pet Nagini slowly. Much to popular belief, snakes aren't cold and slimy. She's generally warm if she's laying around my bed like a barrier as she is now or a bit cool if she's been out hunting. Either way, she's rarely far from me and thus her Master since we're always together. She nuzzles my hair briefly in thanks before curling tighter about the unicorn skins I recline on. One foolish person tried to charge us, intent on either stabbing myself or the Dark Lord. Nagini crushed most of the life from him before swallowing him whole. I could still hear his whimpering cries from within her skin hours later, not to mention the rippling bulges he made in digestion.

I had never thought I would end my days with Harry Potter of all people or as the Prince Consort of the Wizarding World. Can't say it's a bad thing either. Most of those Gryffindors are dead, especially the Mudblood ones. I still want that Weasley bastard's head on a pike outside along with that Granger for his laughter when Moody transfigured me into a ferret. Yes, I know it was the real Moody, but still… it would make me feel better. He's promised them to me for my birthday next month. I can look out one of the windows to my left and see the fly blown remains of Dumbledore's next to that of McGonagall's. And now we have Sirius Black. It won't be long before they're all out there, a silent and dead guard.

Laughter bubbles up in my throat as I curl up against the soft pelts, closing my eyes for a short nap while my Master's rumbling voice proclaims doom to another.

(to be continued)