Word Count: 1496

Warnings: (M-Rated) Sex / Non-graphic mentions of both torture and murder

One Word

"She isn't as evil as people think."

As he watched Bellatrix cackling while she chased one of the younger men around the garden, Harry tilted his head. "Are you sure?" he asked, as she shot spells at the younger man's heels, making him yelp out in pain as he tried to hop away from them.

"Yes. She's more evil than people think," Tom replied, chuckling at the look on Harry's face. He played with the strands of Harry's dark hair, his hand tangling in the tousled locks. "I think it may be something to do with pureblood inbreeding."

Laughing, Harry leant back against Tom's legs, enjoying the sensation of slight tugging at his scalp. He loved having his hair played with; something he'd learned during his time with Tom.

He'd learned a lot about himself since he'd been with Tom.

He'd learned that he was a sensual person, that he loved to be touched, and held, and adored. His love language was certainly deep in affection of the physical kind.

He'd learned that he wasn't as 'good' as he'd always tried to be. That he could be selfish without second thought, when it meant that he was being treated well.

He'd learned that when he loved, he loved completely, without reserve. That he flourished when under the attention of someone who wanted him.

Never would he have thought that this would be his life. He'd never have believed that he could accept his own happiness over that of everyone else.

Harry had known, almost since entering the Wizarding World, that he would be expected to murder Lord Voldemort. He'd accepted his destiny.

He'd thought he had friends, people he could rely on, a support system on the light side that he wouldn't even be able to find anywhere else.

He'd been wrong. So, so wrong.

"I'm sorry, mate, but… my family, you know? You're going to get us all killed."

Ron had been the first to turn on him, but one by one, his friends had turned their backs. His godfather dead, the headmaster ignoring him, Harry had seen any point in fighting when he was captured by three Death Eaters on a train ride during the summer months when he was away from school and trying to avoid the Dursleys.

Just less than a year later, he was alive—and perhaps even more surprising—flourishing under the tender care of Tom. If someone had told him a year ago how happy he could be, he'd never have believed them.

Of course, without Harry, the light resistance had crumbled in months. Dumbledore was dead, the Ministry were under Tom's control, and for the most part, the Order of the Phoenix was finished.

They'd gone underground, but their feeble attempts at pulling back power were easily swatted away by the dark side, and one by one, they were being picked off.

Harry thought that he should feel worse about it then he did, but he reminded himself that they'd given up on him first. This was just the consequences of their actions.

"Little Lord, I have a surprise for you," Bellatrix called out, apparently finished with chasing the underling.

Harry, who had been absently stroking Nagini, Tom's snake, startled at her sing-song voice.

As Tom's fingers stilled in his hair, he looked up to meet her gaze. She gestured to two sacks that were being fetched over by two of the lower ranked Death Eaters. Harry didn't recognise them, but then, he didn't pay much attention to those outside of Tom's inner circle.

The sacks were dropped at Bella's feet.

"Are you quite sure now is the time for this, Bellatrix?" Tom asked, his voice harsh.

"Yes, My Lord. Quite sure." She nodded her head emphatically, her eyes practically begging him to allow her to continue. Harry tilted his head back when he felt the hand tighten in his hair.

Tom's jaw was set, but he nodded his head once, stiffly. Harry frowned, and turned back to Bella, just in time to see her vanish the sacks.

Bound—but not gagged—on the grass were Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

Harry arched his eyebrows slightly. Behind him, he could feel Tom practically vibrating with tension. He wondered why, for a moment, and then realised that Tom was worried that Harry was about to freak out and leave him.

It had been a consistent worry of Tom's for the first few months—he hadn't let Harry out of his sight for a second—but Harry had thought that lately, Tom had relaxed.

Clearly not.

Ron and Hermione were awakened with a spell, and Harry remained where he was, watching to see what was about to happen.

Ron was the first to catch his gaze.

"Harry," He gasped. "You're alive! We thought you were dead!"

Harry didn't reply. He glanced at Hermione, to find her watching him with a pained expression on her face. It wasn't judgement, surprisingly. She looked… he could see regret in her brown eyes, and guilt. She knew that Harry had been driven to this.

And, unlike Ron, who was still talking, asking Harry to free them, she didn't seem to be under any illusion that Harry would help them.

Bella was staring at Harry with an expectant look on her face, but Harry was only interested in Tom. He stood up—somewhat surprised when the grip on his hair was released without a fight—and turned his back on his former friend to meet Tom's eyes.

"Is this my last test, Tom?" he asked, his head tilting to the side slightly. He held his hand out, and Tom accepted it immediately, allowing Harry to pull him to his feet.

They walked, hand in hand, to where Bella stood. Harry moved closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"I'd prefer they don't suffer before you kill them," he asked, glancing down at the bound figures. Ron was shouting now, but Harry ignored him. "But thank you for knowing that this wouldn't change anything."

She smiled at him, a true smile that lit up her face and removed much of the influence Azkaban had had on her features.

Oddly enough, Bellatrix had been the first to take a shine to Harry when Tom had introduced him properly. The other Death Eaters had been quick to follow her lead when Tom had viciously tortured the first one who had dared to glare at Harry.

Tom was very protective.

"Quite welcome, Little Lord," she replied cheerfully, before she bowed to Tom. "My Lord."

"Do as Harry asked with them," Tom said quietly, before he let Harry lead him into the house.

They didn't speak as they walked to the bedroom they shared, but as soon as the door was shut and warded, Tom was on Harry, backing him up to the bed. Harry whimpered at the assault, gripping Tom's arms to support himself.

Tom laid Harry out on the bed, stripping him in a split second with a silent spell, his fingers already stimulating Harry's nipple.

Harry cried out in ecstasy, but it wasn't enough. He waved his hand, returning the favour of stripping his partner in less than a second, and pulled Tom down on top of him.

Tom licked at his neck, whispering, "You're so sweet, you taste so good," into his skin. His hand moved down to Harry's arse, playing with the plug he'd painstakingly worked in that morning.

"Can I have you, my love?" he asked, peppering Harry's face with kisses.

"I'm yours," Harry moaned, squirming beneath him as he pulled the plug out and threw it to the side. "Take me, Tom, now, please!"

Not needing to be asked twice, Tom entered Harry in one movement, slow but steady so that he didn't hurt his younger lover. While Harry had been held open for him with the plug, he was still tight. The last thing Tom wanted to do was hurt him and the slow slide in was delicious for both of them.

Harry blossomed under good attention, Tom had found, but he lashed out at bad. Tom had learnt early on that to keep his love by his side, positive reinforcement was most certainly the best way to do it.

Their orgasms built together, as murmured words of love and want and need passed between them. Harry was the first to fall victim to his climax, crying out and gripping Tom's shoulders, leaving indentations with his nails.

Tom followed him over the edge, riding out his pleasure before he fell to the side, tugging Harry with him.

When their breathing had evened out, Tom pulled Harry even closer, wrapping him up in his arms, Harry's head pillowed on Tom's chest.

"I feared today would be my last with you," he admitted quietly, almost too quietly for Harry to hear him.

Harry snuggled into his chest, shaking his head as his eyes drifted shut. "Never."

He didn't feel the need to say anything more than that. That one word was enough.