Death Eater and Dollies
He was standing in the Dark Lord's Throne Room, clutching his forearm. It burned and seared, as if he was being branded like cattle.
The Dark Mark.
"Now, you have permission to go. But remember, one wrong move..."
His wand was handed back to him.
He knew the consequences.
Harry was slowly creeping up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.
His stuff still was there.
Good.
He checked whether everything was there - Firebolt, cloak, Marauder's Map - after all, Ron might have borrowed something, Harry had told him once he could in such a situation - then he used the featherlight charm on his trunk.
He kept himself and the trunk disillusioned, slowly creeping down the stairs, noticing the faces of the pupils he met, the whispers about him, the hope he'd come back, the rumours he had joined.
He saw the look of his friends' faces at those rumours. They didn't believe, they defended him.
If only they knew. But he had to make sure Morgan was safe. He'd given her a middle name now. Morgan Elisabeth Potter, after the grandmother he never knew, his mother's mother.
She had declared it the best middle name in the world.
"So, Harry... time to prove your loyalty", the Dark Lord cackled, and Harry had a really, really bad feeling about what would happen. It was a weekend...
"We'll attack Hogsmeade today."
Hogsmeade weekend.
Harry was sitting in the sitting room, staring at his forearm, where the Dark Mark was burned.
He'd been publicly revealed earlier today.
The looks on his friends' faces, on Neville, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, it had almost been too much for him.
He'd shot a Cruciatus at Ginny.
She'd screamed, a scream that had been so similar to Morge's he'd just wanted to throw up.
He couldn't, though. He had to make sure Morge was safe. He didn't quite know why it was that important to him, but every second he spent with her made him grow even fonder of her.
Still, he hadn't wanted to betray his friends, and if he'd try to contact them, Grampa had some nice tortures in hope for his little experiment.
Grampa. She still called Voldemort that.
She probably had the most crazy family tree ever.
A weak grin stole itself onto his face, before disappearing again. All he could see was Ginny's form, as she lay writhing on the floor, under his own Cruciatus Curse.
He'd had a crush on her, before Morge came into his life and changed... well, everything. He was Morge's Dad now.
He didn't quite know when she'd become the most important thing in his life. It had probably been one time she had given him that infernal grin of hers, that was so innocent and yet so devious, like a mixture of his smile and the Dark Lord's smirk.
The smile just melted his heart away. She was his. His daughter, his child. And with that realization came the knowledge that he was responsible to her.
Of course, there was also the fact that even if he somehow managed to grab Morge and flee, Morge would get killed. By the Ministry, the Order, anyone. Stupid laws.
That law was the main reason he hadn't tried to run. If it wouldn't exist, he could take Morge with him. But he couldn't get her killed, and he couldn't leave her alone, so he was stuck in between.
Stuck being a damn servant to the Dark Tosser.
There was a knock on the door.
The worst part of living in so close a living space with Morge were the visits.
"GRAMPA!"
She ran, to Voldemort, stretching his arms up to him, and he picked her up, carefully. It was one of the strangest and yet most regular views of Harry's new life.
"Where's my little Dark Lady? Where's my little Dark Lady? There she is."
If anyone had ever told Harry that the Dark Lord would do baby talk, he'd had them admitted to St. Mungo's.
Though his version was decidedly creepy.
He thought of one of the times he'd asked Morge why she still liked the man. "Well, he's only doing it to get what he wants. He likes me, and so, I like him. I mean, letting feelings into the way of your plans would be just plain stupid."
It was a rather disturbing answer from a kid that wasn't even out of her nappies, though it was to be expected from one that thought Machiavelli an author for suitable bedtime stories.
This time, there were two other visitors. He hadn't even known they knew about Morge.
"Auntie Bella!" Okay, nothing weird here. In all likelyhood, Bellatrix had babysitted the tyke pretty often. Someone needed to, after all, and it definitely helped explain some of Morge's attitude.
The other person was Lucius Malfoy.
Tom introduced him.
"That's another Uncle, Morgan."
Harry decided to have a little fun.
"Yeah, that's a friend of your grandpa's, Uncle Lucy." He did his best to imitate Morge's most innocent smile.
If glares could kill, Lucius Malfoy would have been in trouble for murdering his Lord's new most favourite weapon.
"Uncle Lucy! Do you want to play with me?"
Malfoy senior opened his mouth, likely to tell her "Go away! I don't play with little brats!" in no uncertain terms, when Lord Voldemort glared at him.
"Good, then we'll go play dollies, Uncle Lucy!"
Harry looked at Voldemort, both of them barely surpressing their laughter, while Lestrange looked... jealous of the newly-dubbed Lucy?
"Auntie Bella!"
Bellatrix joined Lucy and Morge happily. Bellatrix Lestrange liked playing with dolls.
Both him and Voldemort couldn't hold their laughter anymore and nearly suffocated, until...
"GRAMPA! DAD! WE NEED YOU! Grandpa, someone has to play Mr. Twinkles!"
Both of them sighed, resigned to their fate.
Little girls, apparently, could make even a Dark Lord who had created them using a Dark Lady's bones and a Dark Ritual and only kept them around for blackmail purposes, make play with dollies. Even ones that remarkably resembled a certain headmaster and always, always ended up getting fried by the dragon, on their player's and Morge's insistance.
AN:
phoenixfyre2552: First two questions: No telling. Third one: He mainly tortured her for a second to demonstrate that he could and will torture her if Harry doesn't comply. Otherwise, Harry might have tried for a confrontation, and then Voldie would have to hold her under the Cruciatus even longer to demonstrate that, yes, there will be consequences. It's simply intimidation.