Hello Everyone!

With the exception of one *cough* Fanfiction Lover *cough cough* it seems last chapter went well. Fanfiction Lover: *Holds up hands* calm down. There is a reason for what happened, I assure you. raven1493: I'm taking that as a compliment, because that is exactly what I'm going for. SYLv: the chapter length is by design. I will either go frequent short chapters or longer chapters at a slower rate. It's up to my readers which one I do. So I ask you all: Which would you prefer? This chapter will be what solidifies the Dark Lord's control over Harry as well as another, more interesting meeting with the Order.

Key: "This means Parceltongue"

This is thoughts.

This is memories.

I don't own Harry Potter!

Enjoy!

~Angelia Reader

Chapter Six: Submission

Harry's POV

He was swimming through the darkness, a spirit without a body.

I should be in pain…

The thought lit the darkness for one brief moment. He could see the way out. He pushed towards the surface.

"If he dies Severus-"

"I know my Lord, you'll kill me."

The sound of talking drew him towards the surface. Panic fluttered in his stomach. He couldn't move.

"You would do well to remember who you are speaking to."

Fear. His heart picked up speed.

"Forgive me my Lord."

Something cool against his chest.

"My Lord? If I may speak freely?"

Silence.

"Thank you my Lord. We've known each other for many years now. I've been your loyal servant for-."

"You were never loyal Severus. You went with whoever held the power."

"I have been your servant for most of my life. I've never seen you lose control like that."

He was sinking again back into the darkness.

"Who says I lost control? You should not have pulled me off of him. I could kill you for that."

"My Lord if you believe that then you would have done so already."

The darkness closed over him and…

"I don't know if you can hear me Harry."

His voice hissed in his ear.

"I'm sorry for what I had to do. She told me it was the only way."

A laugh.

"She told me that if you were taken there would be peace. Lily would skin me if she knew. I'm so sorry. You know how persuasive she can be…"

Darkness again.

"How long until he wakes?"

"I don't know my Lord. I'm keeping him under in order to let him heal. You nearly beat him to death my Lord."

A cry of pain.

"I've warned you time and time again Severus to hold your tongue. You seem to be forgetting who is master here."

"Never my Lord."

Silence.

"My Lord, about the boy's defiance…"

"Careful Severus."

"My Lord, I have a theory. Before he died, Dumbledore told me something important about him. He cannot submit to you- No please, hear me out. He is in almost every way your equal."

"And how does that pertain to his unwillingness to submit?"

"He does no fear you my Lord. He fears pain, yes, but he cannot fear you, so he cannot submit to you. As I said, I have a theory about how to get around that…"

Darkness again.

This time when he emerged from the dark recesses of unconsciousness he found that he was able to open his eyes. He hissed when the bright sunlight hit his eyes. He opened them slowly. He was lying in his bed, his room on the third floor of the mansion. His body was stiff, as if he had been lying there for a long time. He sat up slowly, expecting to pain. There was none. He knew he should be in agony, but he felt better than he had since before his capture.

He ran his fingers though his hair, and glanced at the door just as it opened.

"Good, you're awake." Severus made his way over to him, lightly tracking his wand over his ribs. "It seems you've healed remarkably well."

Harry said nothing.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you," he handed him a bundle of clothes, "Get dressed."

Harry rose slowly, still expecting his newly healed bones to protest. He moved smoothly, however. After he had dressed in the "traditional" uniform of a Death Eater, he was led to his Lord's office. His stomach churned. He wanted to ask him what the Dark Lord's mood was. He had been out of line and there was nothing he wouldn't do to make up for his defiance.

The moment he entered the office, he collapsed to his knees. The Dark Lord said nothing, he simply continued his work.

"It seems you've recovered," he said finally, setting aside the papers.

"Yes my Lord," he whispered. He was shaking as he approached him.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you." He hissed. The anger in his tone was sharp, making Harry whimper in anticipation of the pain to come.

"Because I can be of use to you my Lord."

"How is that when you defy me as you do?"

"Please my Lord," he risked raising his gaze to Voldemort's, "I don't know what came over me. I am loyal to you my Lord. What must I do to rectify my mistakes? I would do anything my Lord."

"Anything you say?" the Dark Lord circled him slowly.

"Yes my Lord."

"Severus has a theory about your…outburst. Severus."

Harry could sense the other man step forward.

"There's a part of you that is unable to submit to our lord. A part of your soul that cannot bow to someone you've fought so hard against."

"I don't understand? Does that mean that will continue to happen?" Harry bit his lip. He wanted nothing more than to submit to the Dark Lord. It was the only way to spare him an eternity of pain. The events of the past year were still fresh in his mind. He would not go back to that. Even if it took begging for death he could not handle it.

"Yes. You are Harry Potter. The only person to survive a killing curse not once, but twice. There is no one on earth that you can effectively submit to," Harry's heart sank, "There's a way around that however."

"What is it?" he asked immediately. Whatever it is, I will do it…

Tom's POV

"You would have to extract the part of you that permits this." Voldemort said. If Harry agreed to this, there would be no more fire in him, no emotion, or at least so few that it would not matter.

"How." The boy was determined; he seemed truly sincere in his words. He wanted to serve him. Fear was such a powerful motivator.

He stopped behind him, leaning down to hiss in his ear, "You would have to create a Horcrux that contained that part of your soul."

Harry was silent, "A Horcurx my Lord?"

"Yes. If you refuse this offer, I will find other ways to make you submit. I have all the time in the world to break you."

He was silent. His eyes closed and a look of the upmost agony crossed his features. It was a shot in the dark to offer this. He had no idea how willing his enemy was to preforming the darkest magic known to man. The silence stretched between them, and just when he was sure he would have to resort to torture, the boy spoke.

"I'll do it," he whispered.

He knelt behind the boy, his hands lightly on his shoulders. The ritual was almost completed. Blood stained them both, the traitor that was serving as sacrifice lay crumpled in the corner. He watched in mild fascination as Harry painted the last of the ancient symbols. He knew this ritual by heart, the memory of his first Horcrux was still fresh in his mind. He had slaughtered a Mudblood student after opening the Chamber of Secrets. The book he had propped on the sink as he painted the tile with her blood. He could feel the tension in Harry's back, the same tension he had possessed, fear mixed with anticipation. In the center sat the small gold chain and ring Harry had been wearing around his neck. The ritual always went better if the item was personal. For him it had been his diary, for Harry it was what he assumed to be a wedding ring.

He pressed himself closer to Harry's back, "Are you ready?" he asked softly. This was always the most delicate part. He had to have someone rip the piece of soul from his body. If it wasn't done right he would destroy him. It could be done alone, as he had done it, but this way was easier.

Harry nodded; he was trembling against the Dark Lord's chest. The stench of fear clung to him. Voldemort trailed his fingers down the back of his neck, stopping just below his shoulder blades. "Open for me," he hissed in Parseltougue, making Harry shiver. He gasped as the Dark Lord's fingers passed through his back. This was not the hard part, this didn't hurt. He smiled slightly as his fingers found the pulsing thing that resided in every living thing. This one was so much like his own it could have been his twin. It was dark, he realized with a small shock, there were hints of light in him, but it was as if harboring his soul had tainted him. It explained so much.

Almost suddenly he took hold of that core, and pulled. Harry screamed, struggling harder than he had even in the mist of the most brutal of torture. The Dark Lord wrapped his arm around his chest, holding him still as he tore him apart from the inside. His lips formed the chant in Parseltougue, and Harry slumped forward as it came free.

Voldemort smiled triumphantly as he gazed down at the small ball of light that sat in his palm. It glowed darkly in his hand, giving off the unmistakable energy of Harry Potter. He leaned over the half conscious man, pressing it into his hand, "Finish it." he hissed.

Weakly Harry pressed the ball to the chain, chanting the Parceltongue Voldemort hissed in his ear. The gold glowed softly, and Dark Magic exploded outward. When it was done, Harry lay collapsed in the circle of blood, his fingers wrapped around the Dark Artifact. The chain warmed when it touched him.

So much power… he thought, tucking it in his pocket.

Harry's POV

He felt… nothing. There was nothing left in him, only a hole where his soul should have been. The stone was cool and wet beneath his cheek. He opened his eyes. All he could see was blood. He knew the thought should have disturbed him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. In the shadows he could see the crumpled form of a woman. A traitor. He had killed her. He had felt bad about it before, but now… He could understand why the Dark Lord had done this. It was liberating.

He moved as if through water, pushing himself to his feet. Arms wrapped around him from behind, "My Lord." Serine.

"How do you feel?" The Dark Lord murmured against his ear.

"I don't my Lord." He smiled. For the first time in his life, he had no cares. Had he known that losing his soul would do this to him he would have done it years ago.

"Perfect." The Dark Lord's hands trailed down his chest, "Bring him in," he called.

The door creaked open, reveling a hooded man supported by two Death Eaters. The Dark Lord stood, pulling Harry with him.

He paced around the kneeling figure. The Dark Lord stopped behind him, smiling as he looked into Harry's eyes. He rested his hand on top of the man's head, ripping the hood off with a flourish.

Seamus Finnigan.

"Harry?" Seamus cried. Last Harry had seen of him had been acting as commander in one of their- The Order's he reminded himself sharply- camps in France. He had fought beside Harry in one of the many battles there. They had saved each other's lives in the heat of battle. Seamus turned out to be an excellent warrior. But now, he looked withered, as if he had been here a while. The camp must have been taken some time ago.

Harry said nothing. His face expression was perfectly blank. I should care but…I can't…

Voldemort passed Harry a small jeweled dagger, "Kill him," he said simply.

Harry didn't hesitate, he plunged the dagger deep into his chest before he even had a chance to register what was being said. Only an hour before he would have defied his Lord. He would have taken whatever punishment he would have been given, rather than kill a friend. But now, he was empty of defiance, empty of pride, and he could remember the pain he had gone through. He feared it, and there was no reason for him to defy Lord Voldemort.

"Yes," the Dark Lord hissed, "You are ready."

Tom's POV

He sat at one end of the long table, directly across from the Order's head. He remembered her from the Battle for Hogwarts. A very powerful witch and formidable foe. Stretched along the rest of the table was her "Council" as they called themselves. The two friends of Harry's, another redhead, a soft looking pureblood witch, the scared boy-now-man that had openly defied him during the first battle, and a slim blonde witch who sat staring into space. They looked like nothing, but he had learned never to underestimate his enemies. Every one of them had lived this long, so they had to be powerful.

He had only brought Harry to this "negotiation." It was all he needed. The boy knelt submissively at his feet, his hands in his lap, his head respectively down. He was clothed this time in a rich shirt of silk and soft cotton pants. His feet were bare, per request, and he had donned every weapon he had come to him with: two guns, a total of five blades, and a wand. He looked out of place amongst the shabby state of Order's meeting room. Everything was rundown, worn by over use.

Voldemort absently reached down to stroke the boy's hair. He got no reaction, not that he was expecting one. He made note at the immediate rise in tension among the Order. The redhead younger redhead was all but restrained by the pretty Mudblood. There was hardness in them. It was as if his careless words had sparked something in them.

He would not be the first to speak. They had called this meeting, so it would be they that named the purpose. He continued to stroke his hair, wrapping the long coil of braid around his fist. It was softer than he thought possible. The boy whimpered softly, closing his eyes.

The head cleared her throat, "Sir," she paused, unsure if that was the right way to address him, "We have discussed your demand that we lay down our arms and surrender in great lengths. There has been much opposition to your request."

"It is not a request. It is a demand. You will disband your rebellion, or you will be destroyed."

"Never!" this came from the elder redhead. His face was pulled into a mask of pure hatred, "We will never bow down to you."

Voldemort laughed softly, "Even if your hero has?"

"He hasn't!" The defiant one shouted, "He told us not to give in!"

"Did he? Harry? Is there anything you'd like to say to that?" The boy flinched, letting out a small whimper.

"Yes my Lord," he lifted his head to look at them all. "I was wrong," he knew the boy didn't believe this, not truly. The fear in his eyes was a charade. He had been commanded to act as if afraid. "You should give in. He…he will kill you if you don't," his voice trembled on cue. "My Lord please…"

"What did you do to him," this was the younger redhead again.

"Ronald," the head hissed.

"No damn it. He's making him say that. This isn't Harry, it can't be. Harry would never side with the man who killed his parents. He would ide first."

"That's where you're wrong," the Dark Lord, "He has decided that it would be less… painful to side with me… He has yet to ask me to kill him. He screamed and fought, but he never begged to die. In fact he seemed to like it when I fucked him."

The redhead moved suddenly. He drew his wand, launching across the table at the Dark Lord. Harry's strike was that of a snake. He tackled him onto the table. He straddled his waist, a knife pressed to his throat with one hand and the other holding his head to the side by his hair. Harry's eyes were empty of all emotion, letting the "Council" see that he could and would kill his former friend and feel nothing.

"Kill him," Voldemort said offhandedly. He wasn't watching his pet, but instead watched the head. Her eyes widened as Harry started to draw the blade across his throat. "Stop." Harry stopped immediately. "Return." Again he obeyed without question. "I think I've made my point." He smiled triumphantly. They saw the control he had over their Golden Boy. He was he perfectly little pet. He stood, motioning for Harry to rise with him, "You refuse my mercy, very well. I gave you a chance to redeem yourselves. For every man and woman that falls in the coming battles, know that it is your head that their blood stains."

Before they could react, he grabbed Harry's arm. In a demonstration of his power, he dropped the wards around the room, apparating back to the manor. He turned to his pet the moment his feet touched the ground, "You did well," he praised. "You played your part perfectly."

He bowed, "Thank you my Lord."

"We've shaken them, but they are far from breaking. You are dismissed, return to me in the morning and we will discuss your future here."

He bowed once more and left.

Everything was going perfectly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring on its chain. Inside contained all of the defiant emotions in his pet, anything that would cause him to refuse his Master. Without this part of him, he would be the perfect Death Eater. Emotion had always held him back, preventing him from reaching his full potential, today had proven that. Dumbledore had fed that emotion, keeping him a slave to his humanity. Without it, he could be truly Voldemort's equal.

Thank you for reading Everyone! I hope you liked this. I'm sorry for the wait; I was taking a few days for myself. Please be kind and CONSTRUCTIVE on your reviews, anything other than that is just being a douche. The next chapter is yet to be decided, I haven't a clue where I want to take it. I'll get you a chapter as soon as I can. I love most of you!

~Angelia Reader

PS: S. W. Jr: because I don't feel like adding this into my beginning author's note, I'll answer you here. I hardly spoiled anything, I stated previously that there would be actual romance between them, I figured that was self-explanatory. I can understand what you mean by dull… It goes hand in hand with the short chapters; it would take an eternity to progress the story if I took the time to describe everything I saw in my head. Disturbing, scary, and full of misery is what I was going for, so thank you for noticing. If you have anything constructive to say, please review again. If you don't, then please say nothing. If you do not like this story do not read it. Thank you!

~Angelia Reader