A Most Unlikely Story – Part 6
Disclaimer: All names and places belong to J.K. Rowling and I am in no way receiving any money for this story. This is for the sole amusement of slash fans. This is rated NC-17 and as such should not be taken lightly. You have been warned.
Warning: pain, lots and lots of pain . . . oh, and you have to wait for the next part.
A/N: Enjoy the second to last chapter! Will hopefully update on Monday! Keep your fingers crossed.
Harry didn't remember closing his eyes – didn't even remember being free from pain. All Harry could remember was burning. An ardent sensation that had crept through his entire body and snaked its way into his mind. The back of his head was a throbbing jumble of headiness and confusion.
But, nevertheless, he awoke, experiencing a sore ache in his muscles. His body was still suspended from the hooded statue and his legs and arms could barely take any more abuse. Hah! he thought, so much for that.He looked around and found one person staring back at him. It was Voldemort.
'Good morning, Harry,' Voldemort said, sarcasm and hate dripping from the words as thickly as blood. Harry was repulsed by the utter sight of Voldemort's red, bloodshot eyes as they burned into his own.
He wrenched his gaze away from the sadistic bastard who had ruined so many lives and settled for engaging in a staring contest with a single blade of grass. The grass had the faintest trace of blood spotting its thin, lithe form. The tip of it was browned, from deadness or dried blood, Harry wasn't sure.
'Now, now, Harry,' Voldemort chided. 'Let's not be rude; I said 'good morning.''
Harry took in as deep a breath as he could, trying to calm himself. 'Good morning.' With that, he steeled himself and looked directly into Voldemort's eyes with his own murderous gaze.
Voldemort was quickly shocked by Potter's abrupt defiance, but a part of him rejoiced in the knowledge that after so many years of dancing around the boy's life, he had finally been able to effect the boy. Now was the chance to persuade him to join his ranks. He could see that; so many times before he had attempted to do so, why even the previous night, but it was at this time that Voldemort was confident the boy would surrender.
Slowly walking up to the raven-haired youth so violently immobilised, Voldemort never broke the eye contact, even when Potter's loathing stare turned into a confused one. He took out his wand and trailed the tip of it alongside Potter's face and down his neck, curving it to draw an invisible line down the middle of his torso.
There was nothing Harry could do as the wand drifted lower and lower; he sucked in his breath as the tip brushed across his navel. When this happened, the cold touch of the wood lost contact with Harry's warm body.
Voldemort smiled evilly; he knew exactly how to break Potter. 'Join me, Harry.' His voice was a whisper as the words slipped effortlessly out of his mouth.
Harry could only shake his head negatively. Voldemort circled to Harry's right, dodging the scythe's blade and stepping onto the statue's base, closer to him. Voldemort's next words were spoken in his ear in a hiss. 'No one is around to save you, Harry. No one to see what I could do to you; no one to hear your whimpers and pleas for mercy. Just surrender to me. I will make you – one way or another.'
Harry had literally stopped breathing in and out as the seductive voice of Parseltongue washed through him. His eyes were open in shock; he trembled in trepidation as Voldemort's icy fingers stole the heat from Harry's bare waist as they ghosted up his side. Harry shivered away in disgust, twisting his body as far away from the man's reach as he possibly could while pinned helplessly . . .
Helpless. He was utterly fucking helpless against the man's vile advances. Voldemort circled back around to the front of him and undressed him fully with a few waves of his wand. The damp chill hit Harry with a sudden force and he was involuntarily shaking due to the wet coldness that seeped into his body. He watched as Voldemort smirked and stepped closer to him. He watched as Voldemort stretched his long fingers out to stroke his skin. He watched as Voldemort stepped up to him, mere centimetres away from his naked, shivering body.
He was so busy watching Voldemort that he failed to take notice of a lone figure approaching the snake-like man from behind.
***
Dumbledore called for an immediate gathering of Order members and Aurors. When everyone available had Floo-ed their way to his office, he disclosed the events to the alert wizards and witches.
'Harry Potter has been taken from within this very school by unknown means. However, we do know his exact location due to Miss Granger's ingenious, yet,' he paused to look into her eyes, 'mischievous, creation.'
'Well then, where is he?' Molly Weasley had spoken up, baffled that the man could remain calm while Harry was out-of-bounds and in danger of being kidnapped.
'He has been captured by Death Eaters and is currently in the presence of Lord Voldemort.' There were only a few gasps due to Dumbledore's sudden mention of You-Know-Who's name.
'Then why are we here? You could have just told us to Apparate on location. Where is he, old man? And no riddles!' Angry murmurs of assent accompanied Shacklebolt's outrage.
Dumbledore couldn't help but smile a little at the Auror's choice of words. 'Ah, but sadly, I can not make such a promise, as there must be at least one more riddle,' he said, his eyes twinkling in mirth.
'Dumbledore, please,' Tonks said, knowing the man was senile, but begging him to disclose Harry's whereabouts.
'Harry is being held at the graveyard near Riddle Manor' – there were groans of exasperation as they realised Dumbledore's meaning behind his previous statement – 'Young Mr. Malfoy has sent me a memory of the location for our travelling purposes.' He retrieved a vial from within the folds of his robes and walked toward the cupboard where he kept his Pensieve. 'We must decide on the correct method of attack. We can't just arrive and start firing curses.'
He tipped the contents of the tiny, glass jar into the large bowl and stood back while the image rose above the surface and panned out, allowing everyone to see the landscape. Once it had completed its circle the image dissipated and Dumbledore closed the cabinet doors.
'We must choose a spot closer to the forest, hiding among the trees, to avoid being noticed suddenly. It is likely that Harry could be in a precarious condition, so negotiations might have to be made. Everyone must remain calm and focus on the task at hand. Let us be off.'
With that said, Dumbledore Apparated himself to the surprisingly desolate graveyard. There was no one in sight and he faintly motioned for those directly behind him to be silent.
He walked closer to the statue, thinking people may be behind the foreboding structure. He listened carefully for any signs of breathing ahead of them and discovered two sets of respiration. But what scared him was that there were three sets of heartbeats. He sped up, but there was no way he could make it in time to block the curse. He stopped, frozen in his tracks, when he heard the two fateful words of imminent death and saw the bright flash of green light.