Disclaimer: I do not own.

//This is Parseltongue.//

Paraselenic

Anathema // a person or thing accursed or consigned to damnation or destruction.

They appeared on the corner of Wisteria Walk and Privet Drive with little fuss, the small group unnoticed in the dark night on the suburban muggle street. Even as out of place as they were -- Voldemort's snake-like face and crimson robes, Harry's glowing eyes and waist-length hair, Severus and Lucius's black cloaks and masks -- they drew no attention on the moonless night.

Voldemort jerked his hand in a signal for the men to follow him down the block, heading down the street towards Number 4. Harry sighed internally at his friend's bad mood, sidling up to Severus. "You will be listening to me tonight, you know. I lead here."

The man glowered behind his mask, Harry could tell, but he said nothing but for a muttered affirmative and jerky nod. Harry wasn't in the mood to argue with him over this. Snape was only coming because Voldemort wanted him to be able to report the activities of the night back to the Order of the Phoenix. Harry was not pleased with this, but Voldemort's attitude was already foul that night, and Harry didn't want to have to deal with the reptilian man getting any worse.

"My lord, what of the wards?" Severus asked in a low tone, breaking Harry's reverie. The question, though, had been directed to Voldemort.

"The resurrection ritual imbued me with the boy's blood. The Blood Wards will not stop me."

"And the rest of us, my lord?" Lucius put in hesitantly. "Surely the vampire… "

Harry snorted in amusement. "Don't worry yourself about me, Pretty," he purred gliding closer to the blond and letting their sides brush together. "I'll be fine."

Lucius growled under his breath, his words coming out strained. "I was not worried about you, Lord Mylläkkä. I simply do not wish to be caught and carted off to Azkaban again because of the wards around the Potter brat's domicile alerting the Aurors."

Harry snickered quietly. "No worries, Pretty. You'll see." Harry turned away and waved his hand at Voldemort, signaling the house they were approaching as the right one. "Here we are."

The wizards cringed at the disgustingly muggle home, identical in nearly every way to those around it with its perfectly manicured lawn and hedges, flowers blooming along the walk even with the chilling season. Harry ignored their responses and made his way up to the door confidently, though pausing on the stoop. He really didn't know how they were going to go about this. "Eh, Tom? Are we going for stealth or what?"

Voldemort finally met his eyes, crimson calmed significantly from an hour prior. "Stealth. I wish to have plenty of time to play with the muggles."

Harry's eyes lit up. "I have to agree."

"Finally ready to stop being a sentimental brat, then?"

Ignoring the looks from the other two men, Harry glared. "That wasn't the point, Tom. I was angry because you refused to acknowledge my opinion in the matter and then proceeded to play your stupid little 'I'm a Dark Lord and therefore have no emotion - blah blah blah' game."

Voldemort smirked darkly. "Glad to see this outing will be fun for you."

"The tortured screams of the obtuse ringing in my ears? What better form of entertainment is there?"

"Well, I'm hard-pressed not to agree with you, really, but you're forgetting sex."

Harry merely chuckled, grinning slyly over his shoulder at the trio. He flicked his Blackthorn wand and the door eased open. "Shall we, friends?"

Harry again ignored the growls from both Death Eaters, walking casually into the house he had seen only months before. Nothing had changed whatsoever barring perhaps a few new pictures of Dudley's rotund visage, making Harry's gag reflex act up. How he hated these people.

"Good Merlin," Lucius drawled. "What a disgusting example of a muggle. Who is this whale?"

Harry snickered. "Dudley Dursley, age sixteen. Spoilt rotten brat and all around tyrant-in-training. Besides eating, his favorite hobbies include heckling girls in front of the grocery mart, beating up small children, and seeing how many followers he can amass with brainpower as low as his. Think of Goyle… except without a wand to back up his nonsense."

Gray eyes cut towards him. "How do you know?"

An amused smile was all the answer he got before Harry walked away, gliding through the living room to the stairs. Voldemort, who had followed closely behind suddenly froze in place, making Harry turn to him. The Dark Lord was staring furiously, a hand pointing forward. Harry followed his eyes and cringed. His cupboard. Harry nodded to the unspoken question.

"Surely you jest?" Voldemort hissed, crimson eyes nearly as bright as Harry's own.

"It wasn't so bad, you know. I was a small child to begin with, and the stairs are steep enough to create quite a bit of room. It could have been worse."

"Could have been worse?!" Voldemort spat, directing his anger on Harry and advancing, the other two men in the room totally forgotten. "These muggle filth locked a magical child into a small space with no light. They neglected a wizard without food for days, only allowing him freedom when they needed a House Elf. You dare to stand up for these pigs?!"

"Stop spouting off my damned life story as if I don't know, Tom. I am not standing up for them. I just know it could have been worse for me. I could have been sent to an orphanage like you, or left on the damned streets. They could have decided ignoring the little freak wasn't enough and that they needed to beat the magic out of me. My childhood might have been shit, but I damned well know it could've been worse."

Voldemort was seething, eyes narrowed to slits. Harry stepped closer, leaning forward until he was sure the pair's subordinates would not overhear him. "Don't get pissed at me again Tom, but I have to point out that for someone who denies giving a damn about the rest of humanity, you seem very upset."

Harry leaned away in case of retaliation, but was surprised when a skeletal hand just raised up and rubbed irritably over a bald head. "You're going to be the death of me, Potter."

"No no, Tom my dear, that's so last year."

Voldemort scoffed and cut his eyes toward the two Death Eaters. Severus's stance was unchanged, though his form was stiff as he took in the truths of Harry's upbringing and saw the painful similarities with his own childhood. Lucius, on the other hand, seemed to have stopped all mental functions beyond the connection of Mylläkkä being Potter.

Voldemort hissed to get their attention, breaking the moment and commanding their attention. "Go fetch the muggles down. I've already placed silencing spells around the premises."

Harry raised an eyebrow, casually twirling his wand between his fingers while he watched them bow and go to the stairs. No one would hear the Dursley's final moments save those in the house. Harry gave a shark-like grin, anticipation thrumming through his veins. For years he had imagined what his revenge would be like, and finally it was upon him. In his younger years he had pushed away the darker ideas of revenge, but he had always thought he would do something once he was of legal age. Perhaps turn them into the pig, horse, and walrus that they resembled? Or maybe a charm to make everything Dudley and Vernon ate taste, literally, like shit. That would have been entertaining.

But this… this was much better.

He heard the moment his relations awoke, Vernon's bellowing voice melding with Petunia's screeches. Dudley's whining, half-asleep complaints followed soon after. It was not long after that Lucius and Severus made their way back down the stairs, the three residents of the house bobbing along behind them like grotesque balloons.

Once Lucius and Severus had maneuvered them in, Harry signaled for them to be released from the spell in front of his old cupboard. They crumbled to the floor in a heap of moans and curses. "Hullo there."

Vernon was the fastest to recover, Petunia and Dudley shrinking back while the head of the household drew himself up in anger. "Freaks! What do you want here? We've got nothing to do with you lot while the filthy brat is away at your freak school!"

Voldemort growled under his breath and took control of the situation, striding forward with a menacing air. Voldemort was chilling in a cold temper, and Harry was temped to watch him more than the show his relatives were making. A slow cock of Voldemort's head was all it took to call attention to himself, and Petunia gurgled in fear. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Vernon had paled significantly at the sight of the snake-like man. "A-A f-freak, that's who!"

"No, Vernon!" Petunia choked out, shaking her head in denial. "Not him, h-he's the one… the one who…"

"Who will be the cause of your death?"

Petunia shook her head rapidly.

"Sorry, flower…" Voldemort gave a leering grin. "But denial will get you nowhere."

Dudley had been whimpering since he'd been let down. At Voldemort's words the unmistakable scent of urine filled the air, and the whimpering ceased tellingly.

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Oh Dudders, that's disgusting. The torture hasn't even started yet and you're already pissing yourself?"

"And who are you, freak?!" Vernon bellowed, unable to understand the situation he found himself in. "How dare you address my Dudley?"

"Oh, Uncle, don't you recognize me?"

Now all three of them had paled to an ugly bleached white, trying to melt into the wall at their backs without success. "Y-You!!"

"M-M-Me?" Harry stuttered mockingly, baring his teeth at Vernon and relishing in the loss of blood to the fat man's face. "Why yes, it is. Come now, Vernon… you had to know I'd grow up one day and be back."

"You should have died as a child!" Petunia spat, her nature overwhelming her fear. Harry almost had to give her credit for tenacity, if nothing else. "You had no right living when my sister died. She might have deserved it for the crowd she took up with, but your filthy hide deserved it more!"

Harry felt his body temperature drop, amused smirk melting from his face and leaving a mask of impassive apathy in its place. "Deserved it, did she?" he said in a low voice. "I'd say that's the wrong answer, Auntie."

Petunia's skin was mottled red and white, her face twisted into something like fear, but more like resignation. She tilted her chin at him in defiance. Eyes he'd never noticed happened to be a dark shade of green and were narrowed in spite. "She was a stupid girl. Ran around with those freaks, thinking she was Queen of the World. She was nothing, she never did a damn thing to earn the praise she got. She--"

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light seemed to envelope the room, colliding with Petunia's forehead and draining the life from her. Harry watched with cold eyes as she crumpled to the ground, murky green eyes staring. Dudley was keening now in a low voice, staring at the corpse of his mother as he rocked back and forth. Harry only curled his lip.

"P-Petunia! Boy! What did you do to her? You ungrateful little wretch! Your worthless, idiot parents wouldn't have done half the things we did for you! Now, you set her right this instant!"

Rage surged through him. He had thought he had let all this go years prior, he had thought he didn't care about retribution. But the anger boiled under his skin, clawing at his veins and fighting to tear through him. These people were supposed to be his family. They had looked at a toddler and seen a fiend. They had turned him into a servant, the perfect scapegoat for their beck and call. They had poisoned the mind of their weak-willed child, and turned a second innocent mind into a monster of their own creation. They believed they had the right to put him down? To insult his long-deceased mother?

Harry snarled as he raised his wand again toward Vernon, intent on ending this. No longer would their filthy mouths have the ability to put down their betters. Never again would he have to hear the mindless drivel pour from their mouths, infecting him with its mindless rot. He would put them down for the sake of the bloody world.

A hand on his shoulder made Harry pause, the first syllable of the Killing Curse on his lips. Voldemort pulled him away. //You're losing control. Go into the other room for a moment and cool down before you manage to kill them. I didn't come all the way out here for you to steal all the fun.//

Harry stared at Voldemort, eyes blazing and heart hammering in his chest. He felt the anger seep away as the moment ended. Crimson eyes stayed trained on him, head cocked to the side as he watched Harry take calming breaths. //Fine,// Harry said once he felt in control. //But I'm taking Lucius.//

//If it will help…// Voldemort smirked, and Harry was amused to feel the heart rates in the room pick up speed in terror.

Harry turned to Lucius and crooked a finger, signaling the masked blond to follow him out of the living room. When it looked as if the blond might protest, Harry merely leveled his wand on him and raised an eyebrow, challenging Lucius to defy him with his gaze. The blond obeyed after a long moment of silent glaring and trailed after him.

Severus wiped his palms on his Death Eater's robes, attempting to stave the trickle of blood he could still feel coming from self-inflicted wounds. His mind was drawn deeply into blankness, a habit borne of years of spying and deceit. It was the only way he could cope at times, and it served him well.

"Crucio!"

The scream that followed would have severely agitated Severus, had he not been so far within his mind. As it was, it produced a mild displeasure to break his apathy. The boy under the Dark Lord's wand writhed, pudgy fingers scrabbling at the hardwood floor in a desperate attempt to find purchase. But Severus knew he would not find it. When one was lost, they could never be found again.

The dead eyes of Petunia Evans were staring at him. He couldn't stop the occasional glance in her direction, even though every glance abraded his self control. He rubbed his hands again, his blood itching against his palms.

He remembered a gangly girl, pug-nosed with a permanent scowl. He remembered snotty remarks and knobby knees, the antithesis of appealing with her looks of disdain and screeching voice. As he looked down now at glassy eyes, he wondered as he had in the past just how this woman could possibly have been related to Lily. Beautiful Lily.

"She was nothing, she never did a damn thing to earn the praise she got."

Wrong. So wrong. Severus forced himself deeper into oblivion, unwilling to face such thoughts. Not here. Not with Potter nigh ten feet away with Lucius Malfoy, not with the Dark Lord practicing a Skin Peeling curse on the fat lump of a man Petunia Evans had married. Not ever, if he could help it. Seeing Lily's sister was like ripping open an old wound, even after the years that had passed. The words passing through her lips had been like poison, infecting Severus's mind.

He'd wanted to shout at her, remind her how much her sister had loved her. He'd wanted to kick her teeth in as she had spoken ill of Lily, make her choke on her own words.

But he'd done nothing. It wasn't his business, Lily wasn't his business. She hadn't been since he was fifteen years old, if she had ever been at all.

But the pain had dulled to nothing more than an ache over the years, his denial, his impotent rage smoothing out. Even with Potter's arrival as his student, it had merely kicked up old memories, soon to be settled and boxed away in the farthest reaches of his mind. He had mourned years ago, and though he would never -- could never -- repair the hole left by his loss, he could function just fine.

And he would again, once this night was done. He would file these moments away in the farthest reaches of his mind, only to be thought of if he needed to summon a consuming rage. There was no need for them otherwise. They were superfluous to his existence. So by morning, they would be gone.

If they weren't, he didn't know what he would destroy to make them go.

The dining room door had hardly swung shut before Harry had Lucius against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips. "Have you missed me these last weeks, Pretty? I've hardly had time to play with you…"

Lucius bucked outward, trying to wrench himself from Harry's grip. "Potter, get your filthy half-blood hands off of me!"

Harry hummed, pulling the blond's mask off and ignoring spiteful protests. "You didn't fight nearly as much when still you only thought of me as Mylläkkä, Lucius."

"And I feel infinitely dirty for ever allowing your hands on me in light of the revelation. Now let go this instant."

Harry did, stepping away with a calculating grin. His wand pushed into the taller man's chest, the smile not leaving his face. "Produxitur tormentus."

Harry felt he understood Lucius rather well at this point in time, two months of chance meetings fueling him. He was always mildly impressed by the blond's endless sense of pride that caused him to attempt to hold his reaction to the Cruciatus. Then again, be was also terribly amused that Lucius would actually prolong torture sessions in order to preserve his overinflated ego. This, however, was not about breaking the blond.

A sharp hiss left Lucius's lips, his head falling back against the wall as the curse coursed through him. The steady stream of mild pain caused his fists to clench and unclench, an expected reaction to the sensations. Harry watched the expressions that crossed Lucius's face with pleasure, relishing in the knowledge of what he was doing.

The Prolonged Agony curse had been created by a reclusive witch in the late 1200s, before the Unforgivable Curses and before many of the favored torture curses of the modern day. In comparison to Crucio it was seen as weak; it took many long minutes to build up to the Cruciatus's level of anguish and was discarded for this. However, when one's victim enjoyed pain… Harry licked his lips as Lucius shuddered and slid slowly down the wall. Produxitur tormentus was perfect for him.

Harry dropped down, his knees on either side of the glassy-eyed blond, his hands braced on the wall to either side of Lucius's head. "You don't want my hands on you, Pretty?" he cooed, lips grazing Lucius's ear. "Then whatever shall I do?"

Silvery gray eyes rolled back as the spell's staccato beat increased in tempo, back arching away from the wall. Harry backed away to avoid being pressed into with the movement.

Dipping his head, Harry let an elongated fang trace Lucius's jaw line. He moved at an excruciatingly slow pace, watching in fascination as the pale skin swelled and darkened in its wake. "There are many things that do not require hands, you know," he murmured, flicking out his tongue against the blond's earlobe. "What would you like, Lucius?"

A muffled noise between a whimper and a groan was his response, though Harry knew that Lucius would never admit that either sound could be produced by a Malfoy. He let his tongue drag teasingly down the pale throat, pausing to lave across the bobbing Adam's apple, continuing down towards a collarbone. The echoing screams of torture from the living room completed Harry's ecstasy and drove him forward.

Lucius shuddered and arched towards him, but again Harry backed away as he tried to press into him. "Tsk tsk, Pretty. None of that now. Or… have you forgotten that I am the one in control?" Harry asserted this point by pushing forward roughly with his mouth, letting his fangs sink into the tender flesh partway. Lucius groaned freely this time, and Harry grinned as his tongue slowly ran over the blood that surfaced. "I am your master, Pretty. You would do well to remember that. My identity is none of your business and never will be. You will obey me nonetheless."

Harry pulled away and Lucius whimpered, a gasp escaping him as the spell again increased in intensity. Harry watched with sadistic enjoyment as Lucius writhed as he struggled to maintain his composure, seeking to acclimate to the new intensity of pain. Harry chuckled under his breath. "Do you want something, Lucius?"

He let his body tilt toward the blond, close enough for their clothing to brush. His breath fanned across Lucius's lips as glazed eyes locked on his own. Harry was pleased with his subordinates rumpled appearance, feeling inordinately content with the number of pegs he was bringing the blond down. He could feel Lucius's muscles twinging rapidly as an effect of the spell, could smell blood where the blond was biting his tongue. It was times like this that he wished he could stand the Malfoy, because he was certainly addicting to his senses. Pale lips fell apart and Lucius began panting, lips moving silently in an effort to speak.

Harry flicked out his tongue to capture a fleck of blood from Lucius's lips. "What's that?"

"T-To… " Lucius moaned again, his head snapping back into the wall and cutting off whatever he had meant to say.

Harry let out a groan of his own and leaned forward, tracing the pale lips with his tongue teasingly. "What do you want me to do, Pretty?" he breathed out, pressing slightly closer to the sitting form he still straddled.

"T-Touch me now, you infuriating fool!" Lucius gripped Harry by the hair, pressing himself upward.

Harry couldn't resist the urge to grind back, hissing as their erections pressed together. He pulled away before he could lose himself in the delicious friction, forcing on a grin and trying to calm his breathing. "You didn't say please, Lucius."

"F-Fuck you, Potter!"

Harry allowed another slow grind. //Such a dirty mouth, Luciusss.// Harry drew out the last syllable of Lucius's name and watching as the lust in his eyes intensified. //There are much better things a dirty mouth like yours could be doing.//

Lucius moaned, eyes rolling back and the spasms of his muscles escalating. Harry knew he wasn't going to last much longer under the curse; even though the severity was dulled, Lucius had already been under it for ten minutes. Harry closed his eyes and gave up on the slow torture after a short consideration, realizing that he needed the release just as much.

"Scream for me, Pretty," Harry breathed out, rolling his hips tantalizingly again and again. He could feel climax approaching already, the drawn out torture stimulating his sadistic side and driving him nearly insane.

The increased agony coupled with the sexual stimuli broke the blond easily, and his head made a loud cracking noise against the wall and he threw it back, screaming out in mingled pain and pleasure. Harry pressed down frenziedly, quickly following as he watched the perfectly delectable sight of Lucius coming. Panting, Harry somehow managed to grab up his wand again, swishing it in a jerky motion and muttering the incantation to end the curse.

Harry stayed straddling the blond's hips, on his knees on the floor of 4 Privet Drive, a bit shocked at himself for having taken it that far. While he was far from innocent, he had only had three partners in his decade's tenure in Sceaduwe. One had been a breathtaking Nymph who had thoroughly ruined him for any woman ever again - she had been far too perfect and beautiful for another female to ever compare. She had also been the most vain and vapid bitch Harry had ever met, and that included both Cho Chang and Fleur Delacour. Then he and Valerian had taken up together, beginning a several year long off and on affair. The only other had been a one night stand with a Veela man after consuming too much Firewhiskey, and Harry couldn't honestly remember the man's name if his life was in danger.

But here he was, satiated and collapsed in the lap of Lucius Malfoy of all people. It had been meant only as a way to enjoy the blond's torment; it had been far too entertaining to work the blond into angry, pained, or pleasured fits. But Harry had not been able to stop when it had come down to it. He was glad of their current surroundings, for Harry was rather sure it would have degenerated even farther had there been any privacy. Though a bit shocked, Harry really couldn't say that he cared much. It would make for even more entertainment to see the blond be uncomfortable around him.

Harry leaned away from the still-dazed blond, smirking to himself at the effect he had on him. A whispered Tergeo and Harry was no longer so uncomfortable in his clothing, standing and chuckling down at the blond. "You'd better come back to yourself soon, Pretty, or we might leave you here in muggle suburbia."

This seemed to rouse Lucius somewhat, as his eyes met with Harry's and a scowl began overtaking his features. Harry laughed again and winked. "Well, I'm going to go have some fun with Tom and Severus, join us when you're presentable."

Leaving a slowly more aware and fuming Lucius, Harry strolled back into the living room, grinning as he looked at the broken, bloody forms of his cousin and uncle. They were alive, shown by the ragged rise and fall of their chests and the pained groans, but they were very much out of it.

Voldemort smirked at him. "Did you have fun, Potter?"

Harry grinned, "Why yes, Tom. Thank you ever-so for the suggestion."

"Lucius drowned out the screams of the muggles. What did you do to him? I'd rather you not do too much damage to my Death Eaters."

Harry chuckled. "Nothing he didn't enjoy, I assure you," he winked at Voldemort and laughed at the disgust Severus was radiating. "But enough about that. I don't even feel the need to play with these two now. What's done is done. There are better ways of gaining relief."

Voldemort snorted, and eyed Harry with a hungry look. "One of these days, Potter… "

"Get a nose, Riddle."

"You're such a vain little child."

"And you weren't at my age? Sorry if I'm picky… "

Voldemort chuckled, ignoring the way Severus was slowly backing away. "Of course. I was Tom bloody Riddle, for Merlin's sake. Vanity was my modus vivendi."

Harry grinned, feeling and odd warmth seeping into him. He was at Privet Drive, the source of near torturous years of slavery, childish nightmares and murdered dreams… but he wasn't bound to the Durselys' neglect anymore. He would never have to come back to this hellhole again. His grin faded to a genuine smile at the Dark Lord. "I didn't even realize that I needed it."

Voldemort didn't reply but for a nod, turning and firing off two Killing Curses at the unconscious Dursleys. Harry breathed in deeply and closed his eyes as he relished his first moments of true freedom from his childhood, and only hoped that Voldemort understood the 'thank you' that Harry couldn't bring himself to give.

Special thanks to Ammene for the Latin help, as I am a dunce and she is everything good in the world. Give her love.

Produxitur tormentus is made up, meaning 'prolong torment'. Nice, ne? Haha. Again, thanks to Ammene for this.

Tergeo is the spell Hermione uses in HBP to siphon the blood from Harry's face. I don't think a simple cleaning charm would really do the trick as it does in so many fanfictions… or else, why wouldn't they do it more often, ne?

Revised: 3/18/09