Hello Everyone!

I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and I'm sorry for not updating sooner. I'm a bit stuck on all of my stories. I've been dealing with some…stuff. Old stuff, but still painful stuff. It seems the demons of my past decided to pay be a visit only to open up old, deep emotional scars. I had a harsh reminder of some stuff I thought I was over, and it turns out that's not the case. If you know the feeling I'm talking about I'm sorry that you do, and if you don't, may fate see to keep it that way. Anyway… FanfictionLover: violent as always. I love it. But you're kinda putting the cart ahead of the horse. I can't kill William, at least not yet, and I can't use your idea yet because they haven't actually done anything deserving of it. Rest assured that's where I was heading; I just have to get there. Ladytiarra: see about the forbidden love thing…just remember who the paring is… This chapter will be more on Harry and William, and then maybe an emotional scene between Harry and The Dark Lord.

I don't own Harry Potter!

Enjoy!

~Angelia Reader

Chapter Nine: Desire

Harry's POV

"Time," he called. The sand was warm under his bare feet as he moved between the two panting individuals. One was a woman named Reece, older than him by double; her hair was cut short, close to her head. She was small, but fast. The other was taller than anyone he had ever seen, only a few years older than him. His name was Grode and was built like a mountain. He was strong and surprisingly light on his feet. Both of them had a simple dagger in their grip. The weapons were warded so that they didn't cause unnecessary damage to one another. Grode sported a few shallow cuts, while Reece seemed remotely unharmed.

"Grode, what did you do wrong?" Harry asked looking first at the man, "You're bigger than she is, stronger too, why didn't you win?"

"I don't know Sir," he snapped, frustrated. He glared at him, his hands clenched at his sides.

Harry shook his head, "You got angry. Never when you're in a combat situation do you ever get angry. If you show any emotions than you're dead."

"But Sir-"

"No buts. If this was an actual fight you would have been killed. I can teach you how to swing a sword, but I can't teach you how to take down an enemy if you're not willing to take this seriously." Harry continued.

"But Sir, I am taking this seriously," he hissed, "I don't know what you're looking for."

Harry sighed deeply. They had been in training for two weeks, and while some like Reece and William who caught on at a surprising rate, others couldn't grasp that this wasn't an art. They weren't making art, they were making bodies, and you did what it took to survive. "I'm looking for you to keep your emotions in check even when you're losing. I'm looking for you to remain calm no matter what. If you get angry you are dead." He sighed again, "You're finished for today. You both are dismissed."

Without another word he continued on. The training area had been sectioned off, a clean divide between his students and Grey's. Harry had taken the liberty of dividing it farther into an area for workout, one for hand to hand combat, and one for long ranged weaponry. Moving dummies were set up for practice; a few attacked them empty handed, learning the basic moves before he pitted them against each other. Farther down, others were firing guns that he had begged the Dark Lord to provide him with. He made his way over to the later.

He paced behind the line, watching as they lined up their shot. He paused behind a familiar blonde head.

Fire.

Miss.

Fire.

Miss.

Fire.

"Damn it Pence," he snapped, tearing the weapon from his grasp. William had kept his distance for the most part since Harry had turned him down. For that he was grateful. He didn't feel like dying because of some kid. Even so he couldn't help but feel the familiar warmth spread through him. There was no denying that he was attracted to the blonde, but there wasn't much he could do about it. "Are you even fucking aiming?" he scolded. "All of you come here."

He waited until they had all gathered behind him before continuing, "This seems to be a common problem in all of you. You don't wait. You just fire at random and hope that you hit." He turned his back on them and pressed the butt of the rifle to his shoulder. He closed his eyes, finding his center. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes on the exhale.

He took his aim.

Wait.

Breath.

Wait.

The dummies danced just on the edge of his field of vision.

Turn.

Fire.

Move.

Fire.

Wait.

Fire.

Fire.

Stop.

They fell one by one.

He lowered the gun.

His ears rang.

"Any questions?" He asked.

He was hollow.

He had missed this.

The realization hit him suddenly. He had actually missed the feeling of a gun in his hands. He had missed the feeling of fighting, of killing. Even if they were only dummies, it felt right. How long had it been since he had been in combat? A year at least, he had been 'awake' for nearly two months on top of that. He had the unbearable urge to kill something. The thought should have worried him, but it was to be expected, he supposed. He had spent nearly every moment of five years fighting. It was only natural that he had side effects.

He handed the weapon back to William without looking, "Your turn." He waved his wand and more targets replaced the old ones.

He watched as the boy took his place. Harry shook his head and stepped up behind him, nudging his feet into a wider stance while guiding his hands into position. Standing this close he could smell the spicy sent of the soap he had used the morning. Harry ignored the heat that rose in him as he wrapped his hands firmly around William's.

"Like this," he murmured. "Aim."

William lifted his arms until it was pointed at the target.

"Now wait." Be it through natural talent or years of practice he knew exactly where the bullet would go without having looked down the sites. "Now." He pulled the trigger with him. A familiar crack filled the air and the dummy fell over. "Perfect." Harry breathed in his ear.

He dropped his hands. As he stepped back, William turned. His eyes were hot with desire, and he stepped closer. He leaned closer, his lips hovering only inches from Harry's. His heart pounded in his chest. It had been a long time since he had reacted like this towards anyone. It was almost like he was a teenager again without any kind of control. He was half tempted to let him kiss him. He likely would have, if he didn't feel the familiar prickle of power dance along his skin.

He stepped back, putting distance between them before turning, "My Lord," He bowed. He could feel his anger through the thin connection they had. His shoulders tightened in a mix of fear and the reminder of pain.

"Come," he said simply. His eyes were perfectly empty, giving away nothing. It would have been better if he had been angry, at least then Harry would have known what to expect.

He dismissed his men and followed without question. The Dark Lord was silent as he led him through the house. Everyone they passed bowed, and stepped to the side as they passed. Harry half feared that he was leading him back down to the basement, but when they mounted the stairs he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

The Dark Lord stepped into his office, leading Harry to the center of the room before turning to him. "Do tell me," he hissed, the first hints of anger creeping into his gaze, "What exactly you were thinking before I made myself known?"

"I don't know what you're talking about my Lord," he responded. He studied the floor as if it held the answers to the universe.

"The fool doesn't suit you. Let me try again," he jerked Harry's head up so that he was looking him in the eye. "Did I not make myself clear? You belong to me. Every part of you. From head to cock and everything in between you are mine," He gripped his chin harder, making Harry wince. "I don't like to share Harry, and I will kill to keep what is mine." His eyes burned with possession.

"Forgive me my Lord," Harry said softly, "If I may speak frankly. Please don't take this as anything but a simple observation. I am not yours, not exactly. There is no Mark on my wrist; the only thing that could even remotely resemble a mark that expresses me as yours is a scar that constructs your initial above my ass."

The Dark Lord's eyes harden, and rather than strike him as Harry was expecting, he simply nodded. "That is true. Lift your arm."

Harry did so automatically. Obedience was second nature when he was in the Dark Lord's presence. Again contrary to what he was thinking, the Dark Lord didn't press his wand to his wrist. Instead he snapped a large silver bracelet, more like a manacle than a piece of jewelry to his wrist. It fit snuggly, without impeding the movement of his wrist. He stared at it in confusion and the Dark Lord only smiled.

"Consider it a symbol," he hissed. "I can't officially Mark you without your consent, but this will serve its purpose. I doubt we'll have a problem with your…inability to control yourself."

"I don't understand my Lord," he said plainly. He examined the ruins that were etched on the surface of the mettle. He didn't recognize any of them, but there was the unmistakable press of the Dark Lord's magic on it.

"You will," he smirked. "Now leave me."

Harry nodded once, and turned to leave.

"One last thing Harry," he paused at the door, "Because I did not make myself clear before. If you so much as think about laying a hand on William Pence or anyone else for that matter. I will kill them, and leave you in such a state that you will never touch anything ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal my Lord," he responded softly.

Harry was restless. It was getting late, but he wasn't tired. From the bit of research he had done several years ago, when he was looking for the Horcruxes, it was a side effect of creating one. Not only would he be impossible to kill so long as the Horcrux remained intact, he needed less sleep, less food than someone who was mortal. He found himself wandering the near silent house, the bracelet heavy on his wrist.

Upon inspection, he had discovered that it had no opening. Every time he moved it, it tightened or loosened to accommodate that part of his wrist. He was sure that even if he crushed his own hand to get it off it would remain in place. He had decided that he didn't care. He had made a mistake, allowing William to get under his skin. He should consider himself lucky that a magical bracelet and a reprimand was all he was getting.

I disobeyed. I deserve much worse… The thought came on its own accord, almost startling him. He didn't believe that did he? Of course not. And yet… He is my Master now, and I've displease him. I should be punished for it. Harry bit his lip. If you had told him a year ago that he would be calling Lord Voldemort master, he would have laughed in your face, but here he was, accepting his punishment like a good little slave.

The night air was cool as he stepped outside. He took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of the ground under his bare feet. The light of the full moon illuminated the world, and he could clearly see a dark figure in the training grounds. From the looks of it, it was one of his men. They moved smoothly, graceful as they practiced with a sword. Harry drew closer, impressed. They were good, perhaps one of the best he had. As he neared, he realized who it was.

"Fuck," he said under his breath. William was practicing, the silvery moonlight highlighting the muscles on his bare chest. There was no denying that he was beautiful. "Walk away Harry," he murmured to himself. He should have turned his back, but there was something utterly captivating about the boy. It was almost worth the risk. He watched the boy finish out his set, landing smoothly on one knee, panting.

"Sir?" William asked, spotting him as he lifted his head to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Impressive," he said as nonchalantly as he could, acting as if he weren't affected by the young man before him. "If only you were that skilled with a gun, perhaps you'd have a chance at being a legendary warrior."

"Thank you Sir," he said, coming closer. "It seems like your instruction was a great benefit earlier. I'm only upset that we were interrupted." He stood close now, just inside that which was comfortable.

"I would watch your tongue Mister Pence. That is the Dark Lord you are speaking of." Despite his promise to his Master, he couldn't bring himself to step away as the young man stepped closer. He now stood as close as he had earlier. "You either have an unfulfilled death wish or you are very bold," Harry said softly, still not moving back.

"Perhaps I just know what I want?" he offered, lightly touching Harry's cheek as he had the night before. "Perhaps I don't like walking away from someone who wants me." He slid his fingers down his chest.

Harry sighed in frustration. He should push him away. He would get them both killed if he didn't, but he couldn't seem to think past the ache in his cock. Without warning, he pulled the other boy close, crushing William's lips to his own. There was one perfect second; long enough for Harry to realize that he was an amazing kisser, before the bracelet grew hot. Without warning he shoved William away, collapsing to the ground. His stomach rolled, and what little he had in it spewed out, coating the grass. He continued to puke until it was nothing but dry heaves. He understood now.

"Fuck," he hissed, shaking from the exertion. There were hands hold back his hair, and he immediately pushed them away. "Don't touch me William," he snapped, his hand coming down in the vomit as he scrambled away from him.

The other boy looked hurt, but said nothing. Harry looked down at the silver that encased his wrist. It was still glowing, the ruins clearly visible in the dark. He could almost hear the Dark Lord laughing, and without warning he stood, running towards the house and away from William. It was cowardice, but it was better than the alternative.

Never again… he vowed I will never touch him again… He knew it was a lie; that second of pure bliss was as addicting as any drug. I am so fucked…

Thank you for reading Everyone. Sorry, no emotional scene; that will come next chapter. In order to give credit where credit is due… I kinda took the idea for the bracelet from one of my favorite books "Beyond Shadows." It's one of the Night Angel Trilogy, and it involves something similar (the guy can't be with anyone but one woman because of compulsion magic on a wedding earring that he and another woman wears). I'm sorry Brent Weeks, I love your books! Anyway, what did you think? I hope you liked it. Please put in your two sense. You don't get to complain about the story if you don't tell me what you think. The next chapter, as I said will have an important scene with the Dark Lord and Harry, as well as some more William. With nothing but love:

~Angelia Reader