Hope you all enjoy! Comments and constructive criticism welcome! Thank you to the person who pointed out that curse color mistake! It should be fixed now.
It was two days after their dinner together, and Voldemort was seated in a large wing backed chair watching as Harry again failed to cast a successful Cruciatus Curse. "Why can't I do it?" he heard Harry complained for the umpteenth time. "I am trying to put the intent into it, but it's just not working!"
Getting fed up with the boy's attitude, Voldemort stood. "Obviously you are not trying hard enough. Barty, go help Bellatrix with her task. I will finish today's lesson with Harry," he said, walking over to them.
"Yes, my Lord," Barty said. He gave a Harry a reassuring smile, one that Harry returned, and walked out in search of Bella.
Voldemort wanted to curse Barty when he saw him smile at his Harry, but refrained from doing so. He had spent the last two days watching Harry to see if he could spot the one he was attracted to. Harry had mentioned that it was someone that he was spending quite a bit of time with, which greatly helped limit the possible suspects. He had narrowed it down to: Barty, Rabastan, and two lower class Death Eaters who acted has Harry's guards during meetings. But now was not the time to be dwelling on that anymore. He had gotten rid of Barty, and now it was time to teach.
"You can see sparks when you try which means you are on the right track; you only need to put more emotion behind it. What are you thinking about when you cast the curse?" he says.
"Am I supposed to be thinking about something?" Harry asks, frustration clearly audible in his voice.
Voldemort wasn't fazed by the boy's apparent anger, and instead focused on teaching him the proper way to torture someone. He moved his arms around Harry, adjusting his posture and hold on his wand. He relished in the fact that Harry was blushing, moving his hand to rest on the boy's hip under the pretense of "fixing his stance".
"Like with the Imperius Curse," he said, going into teacher mode, "you need to want it. You need to desire to see them pain."
Harry grimaced, looking at the grimy man lying on the floor at the other end of the room. "But I don't want to cause them pain. How am I supposed to hurt someone if they haven't done anything?" he said, a small gasp leaving his lips when Voldemort's fingers tightened on his hip. Whether it was from pain or pleasure, he couldn't tell.
Voldemort felt his temper flair briefly before quickly stifling it out. He needed patience when dealing with Harry. He was raised by the light, and still held onto a lot of their supposed "ideals".
"Close your eyes," he demanded.
Harry shivered slightly as he felt Voldemort's breath caress his ear, but did as told, eye lids fluttering shut.
Voldemort reluctantly stepped away from the tempting body, moving across the training room floor. "Do not move, Harry." He demanded before apparating away.
Harry startled slightly when Voldemort popped back into the room. There was the sound of something falling to the floor and muffled screaming. Curiosity got the best of him and he opened his eyes. In front of him lay the last person he wanted to see, and wasn't that a surprise considering Voldemort's (the man he wanted to kill less than a month ago) arms had just returned to their previous position around his waist, causing him to shiver. Though, he wasn't sure if it was from the pleasure of having the man's arms around him or from fear of the man that lay in front of him.
"I captured him as a gift for you," he whispered into Harry's ear, smiling when he felt the small frame in his arms shiver, "I planned on torturing him myself for a while longer, but I think you deserve to have the pleasure of seeing someone you hate writhe in pain the first time you use the Cruciatus Curse properly."
Harry stared into the angry eyes of Uncle Vernon. He was confused. He thought he should feel compassion, maybe ask Voldemort to release him, but all he felt was satisfaction. His uncle was finally getting what was coming to him, and it would be delivered by his hand.
Harry nodded once to acknowledge that he'd heard, and accepted his gift. He took on the stance Voldemort had moved him into earlier. Aimed his wand at his purple faced uncle, he recalled all the times the man had beat, belittled and mocked him, "Crucio," he said, his voice quiet with suppressed rage.
The red light struck his uncle mid-chest; causing the man to writhe on the ground like a beached whale while his muffled screams to reach a new pitch.
The man the curse was originally meant for, curled up into a ball, completely unnoticed by either of the wizards, in the corner of the room, sobbing and thanking the lord that it wasn't him screaming in pain.
Voldemort moved the boy's arm after a full minute, breaking the curse's hold. Harry's eyes were aglow, and his form shaking with the adrenaline rush that the use of powerful magic caused. It took all of his will power for him to not pull Harry into a crushing kiss.
"That feeling, of finally getting vengeance, remember it, Harry," He said, moving away from the temptation that was known as the-boy-who-lived, and snapping his fingers for a house elf to take the still quivering body of Vernon Dursley back to the dungeons. He made his way to the door, but stopped briefly before he stepped out of the room, stating "I am proud of the progress you have made."
Harry felt like he was on cloud nine. Marvolo just praised him! He wandered out of the training room in a daze not caring where he ended up.
"Ow!" Harry exclaimed as he fell onto the floor.
"I apologize, Harry, I didn't see you there," Rabastan said, offering a hand to the fallen boy. "Though, you did appear to be lost in thought yourself."
Harry shook away the last dregs of his happy daze as he allowed Rabastan to help him to his feet. "It's alright, it was partially my fault for not paying attention to my surroundings," he said, giving the man a small smile. "Where were you headed off to?"
Rabastan returned the smile. It was almost impossible not to smile back at the boy, his smiles were infectious. "The library," he said, gesturing to the book that was held in his other hand, "I finished this one last night, and require a new one."
"Oh," Harry said, moving in the direction of the library, "What's it about?"
Rabastan smirked, falling in step with the younger man. Harry was an attractive boy, with a more feminine frame, who would only get more beautiful as he aged. Being the second son, who he married didn't matter as much, and Harry's half-blood status could easily be ignored. The interest his Lord payed the boy, his magical power levels, and him being the last heir to the Potter fortune made him an especially desirable partner for most of the unwed Death Eaters that knew of his existence among their ranks.
"It's a book on advanced Arithmancy." He chuckled at the grimace Harry made at the mention of the subject. "I admit it's a bit of a boring subject, but I'm good at it. Keep this between us, but I was a bit of a bookworm during my school years," he said in a conspiratorial tone, leaning close to him, and giving the boy a wink as he pulled away.
Harry laughed at his antics. "Well, you nerd, we'll have to go get you another book for you to read," he said jokingly, pushing open the library doors.
Rabastan stopped, confused. "What's a 'nerd'?"
Harry tilted his head at Rabastan's confused face before understanding why he didn't know the expression. "Sorry, it's a muggle term," he said, hoping Rabastan wouldn't be too angry at him for using a "horrid muggle expression" on him, "it basically just means you like to study."
Rabastan scowled at having a muggle term applied to him. "Damn muggles… Let's stick with 'Bookworm'," he said gruffly.
Harry's felt like there was a rock compressing his internal organs. Why did he have to ruin the mood? He was trying to come up with a good excuse to escape the oppressive atmosphere, when Rabastan interrupted his thoughts.
"Would you like to read with me?" he asked. "I'd enjoy the company. If you're unsure of what to read, I could recommend something for you?"
Harry smiled a little at that. He knew Rabastan was trying to let him know he wasn't too upset with him, and still wished for his company. "Alright, but fair warning, all school subjects aside from defense, charms, and dark arts bore me to death," he said, moving further into the room.
"I'll keep that in mind," Rabastan said, laughing lightly, dragging Harry over to the dark arts section of the expansive library.
vvvvvvv
Voldemort had been looking for Harry for over twenty minutes. The boy was supposed to meet him in the dining room for dinner, before rejoining to his chambers for a small glass of wine while they discussed his progress, but he'd never shown.
He'd checked all of Harry's usual haunts, finding nothing. Frustrated, he headed for the last place he would likely be, the library.
As he approached the door, Harry's melodious laughter reached his ears. Frowning, he cracked the door open slightly, and peered inside. He easily spotted Harry seated on one of the many arm chairs, bent over in laughter while Rabastan smiled at him.
"It's true!" Voldemort heard Rabastan say with mock indignation, causing Harry to laugh harder.
Possessive anger burned deep in Voldemort's chest as he watches one of his most trusted lieutenant's flirt shamelessly with his Harry. Luckily, it appeared that Harry had no idea he was being flirted with, otherwise he might have had to push his plans forward, and punish him for allowing himself to be seduced so easily.
Deciding he's seen more than he need, he shoved the double doors open with enough force that they banged loudly against the walls, causing Harry to jump and Rabastan to pull out his wand, ready to attack.
"My Lord," Rabastan said, swiftly putting his wand back into its holster, rising to his feet to bow.
Harry followed at a more sedate pace, wondering why Voldemort seemed so angry.
Voldemort glared at Rabastan. He desperately wanted to kill the man for his infraction, even though he knew Rabastan had no idea he was making a mistake by flirting with the boy, but knew he could not. Instead, he decided to give the man a hint, and if he didn't take it, well, then no one could blame him for punishing the man.
"I had no idea you two were so close," he said, deceptively calm, eyes glaring holes into Rabastan's own.
Rabastan paled. "We—," he stopped to clear his throat, "we just got to talking, my Lord. We haven't spent much time together outside of lessons before today."
"I see," was his response, voice still too calm sounding. "You are dismissed, Rabastan, I will speak to you in the morning. Be in my office by eight, and I suggest you keep our future discussion topic to yourself until then."
"Yes, My Lord," the man said, before making a hasty escape.
Harry looked on in confusion as Rabastan fled the room. Suddenly, his vision was filled with black robes. His head was harshly jerked upwards. Angry, red eyes glared into his own, making the confused boy afraid.
"Whom do you belong to, Harry?" he asked, voice deceptively calm, as he stroked his thumb along the boy's jaw that was clasped tightly within his hand.
"You, Marvolo," Harry whispered, after a few second of frantic thinking, too afraid to raise his voice any higher.
Voldemort nodded once in recognition, yet kept Harry's jaw captive.
"Is he the object of your affections?"
Harry stared up at Marvolo in bewilderment. How did he come to that conclusion? Sure, he and Rabastan had been sharing a couch and talking, but none of that meant that he liked him! Rabastan was nice, good-looking, and funny, but he had nothing on the man who was currently bruising his jaw. Now that he thought about it, was it sane to have a crush on the guy who killed your parents, and who was currently trying to dislocate his face? Before he could contemplate that further, said man's voice cut through his train of thought.
"Shall I take your silence as confirmation?"
"What? No! I don't like Rabastan like that!" Harry said, hurriedly, shaking his head as much as he could.
Voldemort released Harry's jaw, and took a step back. Feeling a small jab of… something, in his chest, when he noticed a bruise forming along his jawline, but decided to worry about that later.
Harry desperately wanted to reach up to rub his jaw, but was afraid that, if he moved, he'd set the man off again. So, he stood still, watching the thoughtful looking dark lord in front of him.
"You swear that he holds none of your affections?" Voldemort asked again, needing the confirmation.
Harry quickly nodded his head. Then, realizing that could be misinterpreted, said, "I honestly don't like him in that way."
Voldemort contemplated this for a moment, before nodding, and walking out of the room. Leaving a confused, bruised Harry behind.
Now sure when I'll be updating this work next, but it will not be abandoned!