Title: Anno Domini Voldemort
Author: Seguchi Touma
C&C: admin@wasuremono.com
Spoilers: The whole series
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, just made him evil.
Warnings: Violence, spoilers, sexual situations and themes, adult language, yaoi/slash.
For Kate, as all my Harry Potter stories are.
To Ana for being my evil Harry Potter… and liking it.
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Akzaban – One ADV

Sirius came to slowly, his mind feeling as if some spider had crept within and wrapped layers of dusty silk around his thoughts. Dementor he reminded himself. What he wouldn't give for a wand to wipe out the lot of them. Not that he had possessed a wand for quite awhile anyways… Trying to stretch his muscles without rising since his legs couldn't yet be trusted, Sirius didn't fully notice the weight in his arms at first. Slowly, the needling sensation of numbness registered itself, spreading from his thighs to feet and shoulders to fingertips. He had before of having to pry fingers off something, but this was the first time he'd been forced to do it to himself. The cramp frozen muscles had refused any signals his brain sent to get them to unclench.

Sirius remembered hazily the coldness sweeping across his back, the deadness slithering across his mind that marked a Dementor's attack when he had discovered Severus Snape. Overall, he was surprised the former Potions Master was even alive. Most of Voldemort's enemies were on pikes, lining the road to Hogwarts.

"Severus?" he croaked, voice cracking on every other word. That's what one got for lingering in animal form for too long. Wouldn't have shocked him if it had all come out as a bark.

"If you… give me fleas… I am turning you into a toad."

"Get up on the wrong side of the coffin this morning?" Black asked as he forced himself into a standing position, still holding Snape in his arms. Dear Merlin! How much weight had Snape lost? He didn't seem to feel like more than a branch in his arms, the sharp angles of bones pressing ruthlessly against Sirius' arms. Falling more than sitting back on the hard slab of stone that passed as a bed in this Hell, he shifted Severus in his arms to get a good look at him.

Snape's eyes hadn't changed much, the cold light on mica look still inhabiting the onyx orbs. The rest of him was wasted nearly beyond mortal comprehension. The Potions Master's long black hair had never been particularly pretty to Sirius, but now it was ragged, patches of it having a chewed look to it. Nausea welled in his stomache as he thought that Snape might have done just that if their captors had decided not to feed him for a stretch. Wouldn't be the first time prisoners had done it here in Akazaban to survive. The sallowness was gone from Snape's skin as well, although Sirius couldn't say that he much liked the corpse white shade that had replaced it. Twelve years of experience told him that Severus Snape wouldn't survive much longer.

Forcing a wan smile onto his own bloodied face, Sirius leaned his head back against the cold stone wall. Water trickled down it in slow streams, adding to the dampness. Bloody mystery to him why more of the wizard prison's captives didn't die of pneumonia. "I think my fleas took off for better places when they saw where Voldemort was going to put me, old man. They would have preferred it if I had stayed in the Bahamas according to the last memo they sent me."

"Stop talking… Sirius. Give me a… headache," Severus wheezed out, coughing harshly as he finished. An ominous bubbling sound wound through his hacking, telling dark tales of the fluid gathering in the man's lungs. "And put… me down."

Black smirked faintly as he stretched the two of them out on the miserable stone bed instead, spooning himself against Snape's back. Heat was precious in this place, and neither of them could afford to waste it. They couldn't afford to waste words either, especially if it led to an argument. Another display of emotion would draw the Dementors back like carrion birds. "Go to sleep, Snape," he murmured against the man's ear, curling against him tightly. "Don't think. Don't hate. Sleep. It's about all one can do in here. Don't even dream if you can help it."

Severus Snape closed his eyes, lying silently against the bulk of Sirius Black. Out of all the ways to end his life, he hadn't foreseen doing so with this particular person. The offered advice of keeping himself blank had been useless, something that would have brought a smirk to his lips in earlier times. Gryffindors always assumed they knew something before the rest of the world did. What they usually failed to realize is that everyone else knew it long ago but didn't bother telling the dunderheads out of niceness or a desire to watch them fall on their collective prats. Any fool who knew anything about Dementors realized that bringing a wall between themselves and their emotions was the only way to survive. That is, if one termed this surviving.

*So why do I keep staving off death? * Severus wondered to himself as he began to slide down into a doze. *What is the use anymore? I think I want to see how it all turns out. Maybe to say that I was right when everyone else thought I was wrong. If they had only restrained Potter more instead of letting him do his own thing constantly, he never would have been stupid enough to charge Voldemort by himself. He had to go and be the Gryffindor, didn't he? He had to go jump into battle not knowing what faced him or how to even defend himself really. Granted, the boy was more than brilliant at what he did, but he had no idea what the Deatheaters were really capable of…*

A memory's voice whispered in his mind, the words of the creature that had been Harry Potter at one time. "I loved you, you know. I can save you still. All you have to do is call me Master and be mine."

He hadn't in the end, even if he had wanted to. Voldemort lurked behind those gemlike green eyes, the Voldemort that had enjoyed inflicted pain and known nothing of love that wasn't taken by force.

Guilt spiraled down into sleep with Severus Snape. Of course Potter hadn't really known the full extend of any Deatheater's treachery. There had always been something better to do than rake up the past and go through his own sordid history. There had never been time. There had never been the moments taken either to tell the boy… then a man… how he'd felt. Now there was no time at all.

There was nothing.

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Gringott's Pub – One ADV

There were many things that George Weasley would never forgive the thing that was now Harry Potter for. One of them was the building of a whorehouse on the ground where his brother and at least two hundred other wizards had died along with an unknown amount of goblins. To add injury to insult, the Dark Lord himself had suggested the name of 'Gringott's' for the place. Deatheaters now caroused and screwed where his brother had died. It was ground that should have been nearly holy. Instead, it had been desecrated with the semen of Deatheaters, their vomit when they drank too much, and their presence.

Somewhere beneath all the rubble that the pub/brothel had been built on laid the remains of Bill.

Forcing the bile back down his throat, George picked at the plate Hermione sat before him without any appetite. The door being thrown open by a breathless Neville Longbottom was the only thing that saved him from having to explain his mood from his friend.

"Tonight!" Neville whispered harshly, eyes darting about the room like a trapped rabbit's.

Both of them froze at the announcement, eyes wide. Hermione twisted her hands together, lowering her head in thought. "Ron is going with them?" she asked, fear betraying her calmness as she spoke.

Neville nodded quickly, opening the door and peeking out. Of all the people to be one of the Order of the Phoenix's greatest spies, Neville Longbottom was perfectly suited. No one ever really paid attention to him, and few bothered to learn the name of a heavyset, bumbling wizard with a dull moonface. People like Neville somehow slipped below the sightline of those who thought themselves to be society's best and brightest. Those ugly, fat, clumsy, stupid, and anything else they considered unworthy were overlooked and treated with indifference. That indifference gave Neville all the room he needed to work in. Since the fall of Hogwarts, he had become invaluable to the Order. He went into places none of them with their well-known faces and names could. He listened and listened well, reporting all that there was nearly exactly as it had been said. It was Neville that made the dangerous journeys from Order member to Order member, relaying information that owls couldn't and people would have been executed for. If they ever won this war, Hermione was sure that Neville would be up for Merlin, First Class.

Neville voice hadn't changed much since their Hogwarts days, the unsure and rabbity timbre still giving him the false front of being nothing more than a coward. How easily people forgot that he had been sorted into Gryffindor. The weight he had carried in school still hung on him. Out of all of them, he seemed to have been frozen in time as a sixteen year old while they grew up. "Ron is going with them, yes. I can't believe they're doing it. Charlie is leading the attack with the others bringing up the rear. They said to go ahead and do it, Hermione, and get yourselves out without delay."

Hermione nodded brusquely. It was only one thing. Parvati had been right when she had whispered earlier that tonight would be the night. Swallowing thickly, Hermione adjusted her clothing, the ragged dress revealing more than it covered. Just the way the Deatheaters swarming beyond these doors at the bar liked it. Right. Go on, Neville. I'm sure you have more to tell. George, are you going with him?"

George nodded as he rose, sweeping past her to exit down the corridor with Neville. Sliding the ribbon into her hair to pull back the tresses, Hermione sighed softly to herself. She remembered a time when a person couldn't have hexed the grin off George Weasley's face. He had always been laughing, playing some prank, or trying to see just how far he could push those in authority before they snapped. That had been before his twin was committed to Saint Mungo's, or rather the version of it that now existed in the Underground. Fred had been the victim of Har… Voldemort's cruel ways. Even in her mind, Hermione couldn't call the thing that walked around in her old friend's body by the name James and Lily Potter had given him. It was sacrilege.

Erasing the last traces of any of them being in the storeroom, Hermione headed for the main room of the pub. She had ale to spike with special honey. These particular bees had been fed a diet consisting entirely of oleander flowers. Regardless of how pretty the oleander plant looked, it was one of the most toxic in the world. Everything about it was poisonous. Smoke from a fire with the plants on it would kill, as would water that the blossoms had sat in for a time. On the downside, it had a slightly bitter taste to it. Professor Snape had been the one that had came up with the idea of raising bees on the plant, something that Professor Sprout had backed up as pure genius.

Ignoring the 'mudblood' chants and sly gropes, Hermione put on her best miserable looking smile as she began preparing the evening's drinks. It wouldn't do to look too happy with the fact that she was about to kill a pub full of drunken Deatheaters.

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Akzaban – One ADV

"Are you nervous?"

"Scared out of my bloody mind."

Charlie Weasley grinned at Percy, still amused beyond belief that his brother was seated on the dragon beside him. A bit saddened by that fact as well, if truth were to be told. Percy should have had a calm and unremarkable life in the Ministry devoting his time to issues such as cauldrons or regulations on wand cores. Where he shouldn't be was perched on a dragon's back, waiting for the signal with the rest of them. Pushing that melancholic desire for days long gone, Charlie's gaze returned once more to the fortress ahead of them as he urged his mount into a dive.

The first impact shook Akzaban to the foundations, sending webbings of cracks along solid walls and dust from the ceilings in clouds. Dragon roars shattered the deathly silence, nearly frightening more than a few prisoners into heart attacks, believing that the Dark Lord's fury had come for them at last.


"For Hogwarts!"

The battle cry of the attackers brought hope to those who believed for so long that there was none to be had. Dementors and wizards fought against each other, neither side refusing to give. There was little that even those magical creatures could do against a properly inspired dragon though. The top of the wizard's prison was ripped off, lifted by six of the reptilian beasts as easily as a child would open a dollhouse. The mad scramble began to rescue those they could before the Dark Lord's forces caught wind of what was happening.

"Sirius! Sirius Black!"

Someone had crept into his cell and put gum across his eyes. Sirius made a mental note to find out who it was, contract rabies, and promptly bite them. Returning to the land of the 'living'… as close as it came here… he blinked stupidly. Shock shut down the thinking parts of his mind.

"Sirius, we have to go. Now! Give Snape to Charlie."

Boneless feeling arms let go of Severus Snape as the Weasley male scooped up the Potions Master and fled into the corridor with him. Somehow, moonlight was streaming into the hall outside his cell door. That was impossible since Akzaban had no skylights, nor would any sort of light been encouraged to enter the place. Those guarding them certainly wouldn't have let Remus Lupin pay him a visit or the door to his cell be left hanging wide open. He'd gone crazy seemed to be the only logical explanation. Well, if he had done just that, chances were that Snape's tolerance for foolishness would run out quick, and the other man would slap him back to reality. Had he ever noticed before that Remus' eyes were a swirling spectrum of brown shades, highlighted in anger by hints of gold? Probably not. Strange the things one noticed when in the full grip of dementia. Come to think of it, if Severus woke him up from this fantasy, he would have to hurt him. With his cheeks flushed from battle, Remus was more than a bit desirable. While he wasn't the one to give into the siren call of wet dreams, Sirius didn't foresee anything else on his schedule while trapped here.

Remus rolled his eyes as he leaned forward and seized hold of Sirius' shoulders, shoving him to his feet. They had bare moments until the Deatheaters would begin to arrive and turn this raid into a bloodbath. There was no time for his lover to sit there like a lump. *Please Merlin don't let them have damaged his mind somehow* Remus thought wildly as he finally got Black up and moving. *Don't have let Harry have broken his mind. *

Five minutes later, chilling winds swept up around Sirius Black as the dragon took flight, convincing him slowly that this wasn't a dream. If it was, he still didn't want to wake up. Remus' arms felt secure around him, nullifying the bleakness that had taken hold upon discovering that he was being sent back to Akzaban. After surviving twelve long years, he'd sworn he wouldn't go back. He couldn't go back. Death was preferable in this fantasy that returning to the hard reality of hell. Tentative fingers stretched out to touch on the dragon's neck before them, confirming for himself their solidness. A childlike expression of the mad want to believe going to war with what he knew, or thought he knew, to be true. No one escaped from Akzaban. No one.

Remus' fingers threaded gently through Sirius' hair, guessing at the other's confused and disoriented state of mind. Right now, he couldn't afford to worry about that. The mission had been a success, one of the few they'd had since Dumbledore's death. Both Snape and Black were free, not to mention others they hadn't expected to find. Finding Gilderoy Lockheart there had been a surprise. Why bother to lock up a man who barely remembered who he was from week to week, much less what was going on around him? Colin Creevey had been picked up by Percy Weasley, the man looking more like the boy he had been when Lupin first saw him. Were they fed at all in there? Lee Jordan sat being Percy, someone that he hoped George would be happy to see.

Resting his head against Sirius', he sighed softly, "We're going home, love. Just stay with me until then."

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Hogwarts – One ADV

Draco Malfoy moaned as teeth attacked his shoulder, leaving red marks in their wake across his milk pale skin. Sweat cast a crystalline sheen across his skin, glinting in his hair like precious gems. Even as Harry drove into him again, he relished the power flowing between the two of them. The small pains of roughness didn't bother him in the least. If anything, they were a fine spice added to an already sumptuous dish.

"They escaped…"

Those two words hissed against his ear made even Draco's breath stutter before the next thrust knocked it back out of him. So there really had been a raid on the wizard's prison. Annoying as the modern day Marauders were, they were ballsy to say the least. Either that or suicidal. Either would get them dead. A scrape of nails across the small of his back jerked Draco out of his own thoughts and back to what he was doing. Not that he could ever really forget when he was riding Harry Potter.

Slim fingers bit cruel lines into the flesh of Draco's hips, the same hands that could turn a wand flawlessly in the intricate moves of a death curse. Nails raked his back again, leaving red stripes across the whirling and secret patterns of runes that the Dark Lord had ordered tattooed across the full expanse of Draco's skin. From his neck down to his ankles and wrists, every inch was covered with the sinuous twisting of the arcane symbols. The collar of silver as well as anklet and wrist cuffs were all that Draco ever wore inside of their own chambers. Well, except for the occasional times when the Dark Lord took a fancy to decorating his pet's skin with chains of silver or gems. While people on the street sometimes chewed on their own hands before dying of hunger, Draco Malfoy had a fortune that would have far surpassed even his father's in gemstones alone, most of them scattered haphazardly about the room in piles.

Who would have been stupid enough to attempt to steal from the Dark Lord?

White hot climax born of pleasure and pain winding together until they exploded caused Draco's body to arch like a bowstring. Shrieking his completion, he felt a lash of heated liquid plunge deep within him, flash fire burning its own path within his body. Faintness swept over him as the Dark Lord's arms brought him down to lay beside him, cold hands settling on either side of Malfoy's face. Crimson lightening flashed through the verdant fields of his Master's eyes, striking the now reptilian slit pupil, the eye of the hurricane.

A voice as cold as a long forgotten grave caressed his ears, the very sound making his erection that had been trying for a second round, go limp against his semen slick thigh.

"Draco," it purred, the rumblings of a rabid man-eating tiger, "you're going to help me with my newest project. How does that sound?"

(tbc)