Hello Everyone.

It seems last chapter went over well so here's the next one. FanFiction Lover: First off, William does deserve to die, and the Dark Lord isn't going to let his disobedience go, trust me. I have a plan. In fact you'll see some of it come to boil in this chapter. Harry will get what's coming to him for his actions, just not in the way you think, and the same goes for William. Just wait, I'm sure you'll enjoy what's going to happen. Just remember that this is the Dark Lord we're talking about; there isn't much he doesn't know. Guava2: Kind as always. Thank you. Anyway this chapter will have an important scene between Harry and Voldemort. It will show a bit of the Dark Lord's humanity, as well as something pretty significant between Harry and William. I'm going to say up front: FanFiction Lover, you're going to want to kill them after this chapter, just relax and remember that they are going to suffer for this. That being said… WARNING: if you've made it this far than you know that there is sex in it. I mean really, do I have to tell you every time that there's going to be sex? Actually yes, yes I do. As always

I don't own Harry Potter (if I did I wouldn't have had to buy the books that are currently sitting on my shelf and Harry would have died at the end…)

Enjoy!

~AR

Chapter Ten: Disobedience

Harry's POV

It had been nearly a week since the kiss, and he had done all he could to avoid William. The Dark Lord gave no indication that he knew, though Harry was sure that he did. He seemed satisfied with knowing that Harry could not touch William or anyone else for that matter without vomiting. It did exactly what he had meant for it to do, humiliate him if he had even the slightest attraction to anyone but the Dark Lord.

Harry sighed deeply, and stared up at the ceiling of his room. He couldn't sleep. To top everything off, the Dark Lord, likely as a form of punishment, had refused to touch him. He had been "allowed" to pleasure the Dark Lord however he saw fit, but he himself was denied it. It was almost painful. He had gone three years without any kind of sexual contact and with no desire to seek it out, so now, after having the Dark Lord take him whenever the chance arose being denied release was torture. It wasn't the worse that he had been through, he could handle this… It wasn't as if he was enjoying the Dark Lord's company he was a prisoner… He would have left by now if he cared enough to…

He was lying on his stomach. The stone was cold, almost soothing against his aching skin. His wrists burned where he had cut them. If he had been only a few seconds faster, he wouldn't be here. He was weeping softly, his cheek pressed to the stone. He prayed that death take him, but he knew that wouldn't. The Dark Lord was monitoring him around the clock to ensure that his heart continued to beat.

There was a small sigh as the door hissed open. He was trembling now, a low, broken keen falling from his lips. There was only one set of footsteps. He tried to curl his body around itself, but he was having trouble making his limbs respond.

"You are a strong one," the Dark Lord hissed. His feet came into his view. They were bare, and more human looking than Harry though possible. Voldemort knelt, brushing his fingers along his forehead. At one point he would have screamed as his scar burned, but prolonged contact had desensitized him to it. All he did was whimper softly. His fingers slid lower, brushing the wetness from his cheeks. He was so gentle, a complete contrast to the cruelty he had inflicted before.

Harry relaxed slightly. His fingers stroking his cheek were the most comforting thing he had felt in so long. He couldn't help but relax against them…

Suddenly the Dark Lord was in his mind, flipping through his memories. Him standing on the edge of the forbidden forest gathering the nerve to go to his Death… Him sitting in their tent, cleaning his gun with Hermione leaning against his legs… Him sobbing over Ginny's body… His first day at Hogwarts… His first encounter with Voldemort… the pain that ripped through his body at the hands of his cousin… the hunger… Days without food… the stench of piss in his cupboard… they had forgotten about him again…

Harry jerked awake with a small whimper. He looked sleepily around his room, for a moment confused. Slowly he relaxed, releasing his death grip on the dagger he kept under his pillow. For all intents and purposes, he was safe. He had fallen asleep while thinking of his punishment and his mind had paid him back for it. Harry shook his head as if to rid himself of the dream. There was no way he was going to go back to sleep after that. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was just after two in the morning.

With a defeated sigh he untangled himself from his sheets and scooped up the sweatpants that lay crumpled on the floor. He didn't bother with a shirt; and he wouldn't have bothered with pants if he didn't think the Dark Lord would have skinned him alive for walking around naked. He had no shame left. There wasn't a person in the manor that hadn't seen him naked already. He hesitated, his fingers tracing over the pistol in its holster on his headboard. After a moment's deliberation he decided his didn't need it. Runcore would kill him if he found out he was relying on his weapons for everything. He smiled sadly at the thought of his old mentor. What would he say if he knew what I had become…?

Not wanting to follow that train of thought, Harry made his way to the kitchens. It had been a few days since he had eaten last. He wasn't hungry, but the lingering vestiges of his dream clung to the near starvation of his childhood. The house was still as he made his way through it. All were asleep, but he knew they would be up and ready at a moment's notice if an alarm was sounded. They were loyal, for the most part, more so than the Light's men. They would obey partly out of fear and partly out of respect. There are few that would even think of inaction if they were called. The Dark Lord treated them all the same. They were all "tested," as he called it, in the beginning. When he had them broken, he rebuilt them piece by piece, with such care that they couldn't help but love him.

The thought made him pause, his hand on the bannister to the staircase between the second and ground floors. He loved the Dark Lord. Not in the way he had loved his wife, but he doubted he could love anyone like that again. He would kill for the Dark Lord; he had killed for him. He would do what he asked without hesitation, not because he shared his views, but because he loved him. He trusted the Lord Voldemort knew what was right. Any punishment was due to his own disobedience, his own hesitation. How could the slave know more than the master? These thoughts would have been troubling a year ago, but as with most things, it didn't matter much. It was just the way things were. He could accept the truth because there was no way he could change it. The Dark Lord had proven it time and time again.

With that new revelation tucked away in the back of his mind, Harry continued to the kitchen. It was small for a house so large. Like most of the manor, it was modern, and shockingly muggle. Every appliance was top of the line, stainless-steel and "one-touch" operated. The cabinets were made of dark, cherry wood and the counters of black granite. Pots and pans of every kind were suspended over an island in front of the stove; beside it was a large refrigerator. It was that that caught his attention. He had never seen the person that was rummaging in it before. He was dressed in a dark green t-shirt with black pajama pants. They set off is snowy skin. His hair was short, perfectly straight, and so black it had almost a blue-ish sheen. His face was obscured by the door to the refrigerator, but Harry could see the muscles rippling in his back. There was something undeniably sexy about this stranger.

It's unfortunate he has to die… Harry thought. He moved forward slowly on the balls of his feet. He kept his eyes on the stranger as he pulled a kitchen knife from the block on the island. He moved achingly slow, sure that the man would turn around and see him. When that didn't happen, he continued forward, positioning himself perfectly to grab the man and press the knife to his throat.

His muscles tightened in preparation.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the man said. He straightened, and turned. The look in his red eyes was amused.

The knife slid immediately from his grasp, and he sank to his knees, "Forgive me my Lord," he stammered. He kept his gaze on the floor in front of him. He has almost attacked Lord Voldemort in his own kitchen. He waited for the pain to come, but all he heard was laughter.

"Stand up Harry," Voldemort laughed, offering his hand in assistance.

Harry took it. Surprised at how warm, how alive the hand felt. "I'm sorry my Lord, I-I didn't recognize you," he glanced at his face and then away. Had he thought William was attractive? The Dark Lord was breath-taking. His skin was perfectly flawless, molded into the image of a god. It was the face that greek sculptors had attempted in vain to capture in stone.

"I know," he said simply, turning back to the fridge. "You didn't think that what you're used to is how I actually look did you? You created a Horcrux and it didn't turn you into something horrific did it?"

"No, my Lord," he said simply.

"I picked a form that would strike fear into the hearts of any that looked upon me. Very few see me as I was when I made my first Horcurx. Had I known you would have been awake, I wouldn't have used it." Seemingly dissatisfied that he couldn't find whatever it was he was looking for, the Dark Lord closed the refrigerator with a snap.

"I'm…Sorry my Lord?" Harry offered. It was off-putting the casualness in which the Dark Lord spoke. It was completely different than what he was used to.

The Dark Lord laughed again, and went to one of the cabinets. Harry felt his mouth go dry as he watched him stretch to reach something on the top shelf. Surly he knew what he was doing to him. There was no way he could not know. He swallowed hard.

"You have no reason to apologize," he sighed in frustration and closed the cabinet empty handed.

"If you'd like my Lord, I know my way around a kitchen. I am more than capable of making whatever you'd like me to," he offered. "I learned to cook fairly young. From the time I could hold a spoon."

"I'd like that," Voldemort said, leaning against the counter to watch.

Feeling self-conscious he breezed through the kitchen, pausing first at the fridge to gather the ingredients for a beef soup and grilled cheese. He grabbed a pan from above the island, setting it on a burner and pouring in water with a few beef cubes. With that simmering, he turned back to the raw ingredients he had taken out. He scooped the knife that he had dropped, and started cutting with practiced ease. Soon the kitchen was filled with the scent of beef and fresh vegetables.

"Where did you learn to cook?" the Dark Lord asked after a moment of watching. Harry had been so focused on his cooking that he hadn't heard him come up beside him.

"Like I said, I was cooking by the time I could work a stove. I didn't so much learn as had it beaten into me. You figure out pretty quickly what to do when you get hit for burning the bacon when you'r no more than six." He struggled to keep his voice neutral. "Doubtless you already knew that. You did tear through my memories." He turned away from the Dark Lord to tip a cutting board full of onions into the pan.

"I saw what I could, but you had walls up that were…particularly difficult to breech. Were you really beaten for such a mistake?"

"Yes my Lord," he started on the peppers. "That and much worse. The muggles…my mother's family, they didn't like me much. I'm convinced that they were trying to kill me in hopes that they wouldn't be burdened with raising a wizard. Naturally they told me nothing. I didn't know I was different until I got my letters, and even then…" he shook his head, mechanically dicing the pepper as he spoke. "I didn't find out how different until I realized everyone knew my name and expected me to act like I was a hero." He added the last of the ingredients, adding a dash of spice. He leaned back against the counter while it simmered. He would start on the grilled cheese when the soup was finished.

"It must have been difficult for you. And these muggles? How did they react to your becoming?" The Dark Lord gazed at him with interest… and pity? brimming in his red eyes. He seemed to generally care about what Harry was saying.

"If anything they tried harder to kill me. They were afraid for a few months, but then things got worse." Harry ran a hand through his loose hair. He hadn't bothered to put it up so it hung, curling to the tops of his thighs. He knew he should cut it, it was more of an annoyance than anything, but his grieving mind had vowed to someone very important to him that he would not cut it as part of their bargain.

"I see," the Dark Lord cocked his head to the side, studying him. While in this form, Harry could almost believe that Voldemort was like any other human, and wouldn't kill him as quick as look at him.

"Forgive me my Lord. I must be boring you with my complaints of things long past." He turned away and buttered a piece of bread, tossing it in a pan and layering a slice of cheese and second slice of bread on top. He felt the pain of an ancient scar deep in his chest. He didn't like thinking of his time with the Dursly's, it was one of the few things left that could truly hurt him. The scars they had carved into him, while invisible, were the deepest he would ever receive. They ached in a way that would have had him falling on his own blade to end it if he were a different man.

"Look at me Harry," he murmured from just behind him. There was something unidentifiable in his voice.

Harry turned towards him to find that the elder man was standing so that he was nearly pressed to his chest. The look in his eye hinted that he had heard everything he had been thinking.

"I understand," he took Harry's chin in his hand forcing him to look him in the eye. "More thank you would think." His eyes burned with an emotion Harry didn't think he was capable of. Empathy.

He couldn't breathe, as he stared into his master's eyes. Lust and desperation pounded in his blood. He leaned forward, needing the physical contact, when the scent of burning filled his nose. "Fuck!" his jerked from the Dark Lord's grasp, grabbing blindly for the burning food. He barely registered the burning in his hand as he crossed the room and slammed the pan into the sink, throwing on the cold water. The pan hissed and sputtered as the water hit it. "Mother fuck," he hissed, cradling his hand to his chest.

The sent still hung in the air, bringing with it a sense of shame, and fear, "Forgive me my Lord. It was a mistake, I wasn't paying attention, and-" he was babbling, without turning towards his master. He couldn't help it. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, caused by his subconscious reaction to burning food.

"Harry?" a familiar voice came from the doorway to his left.

Not now… he thought miserably. He glanced at the Dark Lord to see that he had taken on his most common form. His eyes were cool, empty. "William," Harry said, never breaking eye contact with the Dark Lord.

"What happened?" he asked, he much like Harry was dressed in nothing but a pair of sweat pants.

Harry couldn't help it, his jaw dropped. He was even more attractive half naked. On the heels of that came the tell-tail nauseousness. He swallowed hard, and forced his desire in check. It was more difficult than it should have been. "Nothing, I burned myself," he said simply. Very deliberately he turned away from the tempting form in front of him. He went to finish the Dark Lord's meal as quickly as he could without looking at either of them. His hand burned as he moved. By the feel of it, it was at least a second degree burn.

"My Lord," William bowed in respect before going to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water chugging it in one go.

"William," the Dark Lord responded coolly. It was hard to believe that he was the same person that had comforted him before.

"It's finished, my Lord," Harry said after a moment. He poured the soup into a bowl and placed it on a plate beside the sandwich.

"Thank you Harry," the Dark Lord said, his gaze never left William. His fingers brushed Harry's as he took the food. Harry could feel it; he was angry, his hatred for the boy boiling just under the surface, daring either of them to make a move towards each other.

As if oblivious to it, William excused himself, leaving them alone.

"Leave me," the Dark Lord hissed. They fury was evident in his words. He was sure he had seen his initial reaction to William. Harry obeyed.

He made his way back towards his room, rounding the corner, and almost colliding with someone. "What are you doing out here?" Harry hissed softly, glaring at the boy who had obviously been waiting for him.

William took his burnt hand wordlessly and smoothed a cream over it. The burning immediately ceased. "How does that feel?" he asked, letting go of his hand.

"What do you want, William?" Harry asked. In his experience, no one did anything for you if they didn't want something, and he was in no mood to play games.

"I had to see you," William admitted, chewing on his lip. "I thought that maybe we could-"

"Could what? Fuck? Even if it wouldn't get us both killed," Harry held up his wrist, the bracelet shimmering in the moonlight, "We can't."

William stepped closer, laying his hand on Harry wrist. "I know," his breath fanned over his face, and Harry couldn't help but moan. It had been too long, and he was feeling vulnerable. "But I have a way around it."

Magic sparkled in the air, and when William withdrew his hand the bracelet lay open in it. He grinned triumphantly.

"How-" Before Harry could process what had happened, William crushed his mouth to his. Harry groaned low in the back of his throat, all thoughts of the consequences gone. Every ounce of self-preservation he had died under the press of William's lips. He would ask later how he had managed to do that, but for now he kissed the tempting boy in his arms. He slid his tongue into his mouth, and was rewarded with William pressing himself against him. When they came up for air, their eyes locked.

Gasping for breath, Harry grabbed his hand, half dragging him up the stairs. He didn't stop until he reached his room. He gently pushed him towards the bed, pausing only long enough to lock the door behind him. When they were alone, he kissed him again, William's hands roaming over his body as they did so. Harry moaned against his lips as his hand found his already hard cock.

He flipped the younger man over suddenly, pinning him to the bed as he tore off his clothes, without warning, he slid two fingers into him. William stiffened, letting out a small sound of pain, ending in a moan when Harry flexed his fingers, rubbing the bundle of nerves a few inches in. He continued until he was squirming under him, begging for Harry to take him.

He couldn't hold off any longer, it was as if all of the sexual tension from the past week came to a head in that moment. He took him quickly, hard and fast. William thrust with him, nearly screaming in pleasure when Harry grabbed his cock. Harry came hard, buried deep in William's ass. He could feel the other boy's seed coating his own hand.

As quickly as it had started it was over. They lay there spent, panting. If he could have moved he would have used a charm to clean them both, but exhaustion overtook them. Harry was dimly aware of William snuggled up to him just before a deep, dreamless sleep took him.

Thank you for reading Everyone! Sooo what did you think? Fanfiction Lover, please don't murder anyone. The next chapter will have another time skip, and if I told you what it was, I would be ruining the surprise! I love you all! Review, please review!

~Angelia Reader