Note: Unbeta'd since I have no beta yet. This chapter is a bit more... erotic, not at first, but Harry really find himself lost in the sensations of what happens. He's still OOC, because of how much he's really being influenced. You'll understand more as I write more. Oh, and this is the second chapter in as many days, I expect to see some good reviews!

Chapter 03
• Brannigan •

The walls were black, there was darkness all around, but it wasn't a dream, it was real, he was waking to a room he'd never been in. Cold sheets slid from him as he sat up, smooth, silky. His mind buzzed with a haze and uncertainty. He stood, but it was an odd feeling, as if he wasn't the one standing or making himself stand. He was though, he could feel it deep down, he was doing this and he wasn't.

His first glance wasn't towards the door, or the bed as he usually did when he woke, instead it was to a chest. He stared at it and then looked away, unsure why he'd looked in the first place. There was something wrong, something he didn't understand. He turned again, a swift look over the room. It was a Spartan style, lacking in any decoration whatsoever. Even the Hospital wing had some decoration, if it was only a few portraits hanging.

He moved quietly forward, slipping on a vest that seemed to appear in his hands with a thought. The door was unlocked and he walked through, finding a man standing directly across from the door. The black robes and white mask was a clear indication that the man was a Death Eater, and yet, he was not frightened. The man dropped immediately, bowing his head. "M'lord," he said calmly, not daring to look up.

Harry blinked calmly and turned away. He knew he wasn't Harry, he knew that he was Voldemort, and could do nothing about it. He moved, but fought himself, unsuccessfully, trying to find the will to stop. It took several minutes until his steps faltered, and he'd passed by at least eleven other Death Eaters, all of them wearing bone white masks.

It took a moment, and another faltered stop before he stopped altogether. Slowly he twisted around, looking over his shoulder at the dark hallway. Then, he took two more steps forward and opened a door, entering into an empty room. He stepped to a mirror and looked at himself, his thin, scarlet eyes staring back at himself. The face was the same, and yet different. It was white, still ashen white, whiter than bone, with a nose that was like a snake.

Once again he glanced down at his body, flexing his hands gently, looking at the blue outlines of blood that spidered down his hand. He reached out to the mirror, touching it softly, the cold feeling of it traveling down his arm and into his body. He laughed, one short burst of mirthless laughter.

Then, eerily he reached up, touching his face in the mirror as if were a different person. "Hello Harry Potter," he whispered into the mirror, his blazing red eyes staring at his reflection. "Welcome to my world."

Harry tried to pull away, to drop the hand that was touching the mirror and look away, but he couldn't.

"Do not fight it Harry," he said, touching a single finger to the mirror. "I was in your world, briefly at least, and now you are in mine. I do not plan on letting you go though, I want you to see, see what you destroy."

Then he swept away, leaving the mirror and the dark room. Harry walked down the hall, his gate a little longer, a little stronger. He swept into the meeting room, where several of his Death Eaters were eating breakfast. He grimaced, all of them were newer members. It was wrong to see them sitting at the same table, speaking with one another. They were not supposed to know one another, it was one of the rules, one of the things that kept the Death Eaters independent of on another.

"What is this?" he roared angry to see so many of them smiling. None of them had noticed for now, none except for the single Death Eater who was standing, masked at the other side of the room. He was happy, smug, and it angered Harry to know that the man had allowed for this to happen, knowing the results.

"You," Harry hissed, pointing him out. "You will punished first."

"But M'lord..." the new Death Eater said, his voice quivering. One of the younger members, one of the newer Death Eaters. He'd probably been out of school for less than two years, and he just didn't understand.

"You question me?" he hissed, his voice emotionless. He raised his wand, and Harry could feel the buildup behind the emotion, the thing that he'd never understood until now, the hate, the feeling that was placed into the curse.

Flicking his wrist he said the spell, not bothering to shout or exclaim it, it was meant as a warning for this child. "Crucio."

The little Death Eater screamed in agony, squirming on the ground like a helpless little puppy. Harry laughed, watching him squirm, suddenly discovering how good it felt to hold power over someone. The pleasure of such power was almost unparalleled. "Do not allow such a thing again," he hissed, turning on the others.

For twenty minutes his heart fluttered at the screams of others. When he was done he was once again calm, a feeling of tranquility as they all bowed before him.

Others had joined the proceedings, and as he looked upon those gathered, the wave of bone white masks, of his unblemished followers, he smiled wickedly. "It is time to show the world our true power."

His footfalls were followed by cheering, dozens of them knew what he was going to do, knew that the sniveling ministry was going to be bled, and that when it rose again it would be filled with those who had been enlightened to the cause.

"M'lord," a voice said, a female voice, a voice he knew.

"Bellatrix," he breathed, feeling warmth from inside. He had had an insatiable appetite for woman lately, and she'd been one to fulfill his needs, one of many, but his favorite. Her husband was dead, dying in one of the few battles that had happened over the past two years. So unfortunate, he knew she would have given herself over anyway, but her husband being dead had meant fewer things to deal with.

"My lord," she said, raising her eyes to meet his. He smiled, and nodded, knowing what it was.

Many of the things he'd been working on had been experimental, things he'd been trying on his Death Eaters to see how well they worked. Potions that helped bring life, mirroring the effects of the Philosophers Stone. However, they did more than that when first tested, they revitalized life, bringing youth to those who drank the potion. Bellatrix had been one of those fortunate enough to drink it before it was taken away, and more than just her youth had returned. The drives of her youth had returned as well.

At that time he had not wanted it, and she had explored some of the younger Death Eaters, taking whatever it was that their young, inexperienced bodies could give her. None of them sufficed, none were enough to keep her ache at bay and she had come to his room one night, not more than a month ago. Since then everything had changed, his appetite for woman had changed, and though the potions had not worked as effectively on him, somehow he to had gained the things that had driven him in his youth.

The petite Death Eater stood, moving away, down through the halls that led to his personal chambers.

Soon she was in his room, waiting silently. He knew she came for many reasons, and he didn't care that he didn't please her as well as she'd like, because she pleased him well. She wanted many things from him, other than pleasure, and by sharing his bed so willingly, she got them. She was favored, highest in his inner circle even though her resolve weakened occasionally.

He flicked his hand and she nodded, undressing slowly. The site was one to behold, her robes slipped away leaving inner robes that were held tightly to her body. She unbuttoned them slowly, and with difficulty, sliding them down and showing him her ample chest. They were like two ripe melons with tiny buttons upon them, perfect. Harry shuddered and with it, the body did as well. He blinked, surprised, and he saw that Bellatrix was looking at him, surprised.

"Shall I summon another, my lord?" she asked, staring at him with surprise.

Harry was startled at the request, unable to comprehend having two woman at his disposal. He knew that it had happened, and he could see memories of it happening, though he'd not had them until that moment. He didn't speak at first, trying to decide, but finally his head shook. "No, continue," he said in an eager voice.

Bellatrix stared at him, forgetting herself. He stepped forward, partially angry, and she remember herself again. She stood, keeping her head bowed, and made a motion to take his cloak. He nodded, and she took it, moving behind him, slipping it from his shoulders slowly. Her hands reached around the front, gently caressing him and causing the blood to pump through his body.

Closing his eyes, he let her do her work. He shuddered with pleasure as she writhed on top of him, and allowed himself to get lost in the feeling. It was so good that, for a moment, he forgot who he was, whose body he was in, and he didn't care who she was, just that the feeling was present and it was good.

He jerked forward, loosing his focus, finding release, and a blissful feeling. He bathed in the feeling, allowed it to wash over him and fill him with ecstasy.

When he opened his eyes she was on top of him, looking concerned. Harry felt angry, angry as he'd felt angry at Tonks, angry at Voldemort, angry at his friends for betraying him, angry at the world. He shoved her away, causing her to topple to the floor as he stood. She scampered to her feet and bowed at the edge of the bed, not daring to look up for several minutes. When she did look up her eyes were hesitant, and full of wonderment. The push hadn't put her off, it had made her more eager, he could tell. "M'lord?" she asked tentatively, not sure how to react to this new side of him.

Harry opened his mouth, knowing that he was not himself, and happy that he no longer had the same rules. "More," he growled, reaching out and catching her hair, yanking her to her feet so that she faced him. She had never faced him, he'd never wanted it before, he didn't enjoy looking upon their face, because it made him feel in less control. Now, now he wanted it every way imaginable.

"You never..." she started to say, and Harry lashed out at her, unable to stop himself. He was starting to lose control again, not even realizing how much control he'd gained for the moment. He stopped again, staring at his feet, focusing on the blissful feeling.

"More," he finally growled again, knowing, of all things, he wanted more. She nodded weakly, dropping her face as she stood in front of him, waiting for him to do whatever it was he wanted her to do. He gripped her arm, pulling her close and touching her like he'd never touched a woman in his life. For once in a long time, he was happy, knowing that when his rules returned he would be angry with himself, but enjoying the feeling while it lasted.

It was another hour when Bellatrix slipped from his bed, as she'd always done, allowing him to sleep. He grabbed her though, caught her arm and squeezed it tight..

"More," he said again.

When she turned to him her eyes were on fire, and he could tell that she knew something was wrong, but he didn't care, didn't care if anyone knew, he wanted more, he wanted it until he was too exhausted to think.

She bowed and he grabbed her neck, yanking her closer. She quivered from the touch, and he knew she wanted more than just sex, she wanted to be dominated. He pulled her up, then slapped her across the face, leaving a mark. "You're not good enough," he criticized, "I want more."

"Of course my..." she trailed off as he yanked her from the bow she'd started into.

"For your service, I'll grant you something, but I need more."

Bellatrix's eyes were suddenly hesitant, she looked up at him, staring at his eyes, watching his face. He waited to hear the request, but none came. "Woman," he growled, "what is it you want?"

"A mark," she finally revealed.

He paused, staring at her. "You have a mark," he snapped, irritated at such a foolish request.

"No," she said, dropping her eyes from view, and he grabbed her again, raising her face so he could look into her dark brown eyes. "Mark me with your mark."

More memories flashed, memories of lust, of power, of things that he'd seen done. Some of the Death Eaters needed powerful mates, mates that controlled them and asserted their dominance in another way. She wanted him to mark her in a sexual way, a dominate way.

Nodding, he pulled her close to him so that they faced each other as she slither across his slick flesh until they were together. He moved, taking the chain this time, doing what he wanted. At first it was slow, a slow rhythmic beat that made her moan. He buried his mouth in her neck, feeling the heat, smelling her sweet flesh. Another hand traveled around her, slipping to the top of her ass, holding her tightly as he increased his speed.

The moaning became a constant and he kissed her neck, until he felt the pulse pumping blood through her. Grinning maliciously he wrapped his mouth around the pulse, around the warmth it possessed. It was a sweat, salty flavor, something that his tongue enjoyed. Then, with no warning he bit down, his teeth sinking into her soft flesh. She screamed, but not in pain, and he thrust one last time into her, finding that the bite had taken him over the edge along with her. He held her tightly as he released again.

Several minutes later, after both had let the pleasure fade, she sat up and stared. "Thank you Master," she said, staring into his eyes. There was something significant about the way she said it, something that made it wrong, as if she were no longer addressing him. Harry looked away. "Bring another," he said, licking his lips and tasting the remnants of the blood that he'd caused to come from her wound, the mark he'd given her. She nodded and stood, finding a robe to place on her, covering the red mark where blood had begun to thicken.

More came. Many more, and by the time night fell, he was sated for a while.

• Edited 2004.12.16 •