FIC: The Decent Thing ~ Voldemort/Harry ~ Hard R/NC-17
I wrote this quite some time ago. It was for the spring edition of the_quaffle. Never heard anything back from them, but the "contract" of sorts that you "signed" by submitting stuff said that we couldn't post the work until August. It is now the end of August, I have just found the fic again, so I have decided to treat all my wonderful readers by posting it here at LJ. I'd post it at FFN, but I fear I'd have to cut so much out that it just wouldn't have the same impact.
As it stands, here is the fic:
Title: The Decent Thing
Author: batsutousai
Beta: magickmaker17
Pairings: Voldemort/Harry(with a mention of Remus/Sirius thrown in on the side)
Warnings/Kinks: Non-con, bondage, chan, violence, torture
Word Count: 5,037 words
Summary: Trapped in a world of his own making, Harry Potter remembers what led up to where he is now.
Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The quote is from Seamus Heaney so, no, don’t own that either.
-~*~-
“You lose more of yourself than you redeem
Doing the decent thing.”
~ Seamus Heaney
-~*~-
Mere curiosity. That was all it had taken for him to do another stupid thing. Harry would damn his Gryffindor genes to Hell - like that is anything new - but it feels too good. Some back part of his mind screams that it is bad, that he shouldn’t enjoy this so, but he merely tells it to sod off.
Hermione always had been the sensible one. Not Ron, not Neville, not even Ginny, and especially not him. Hermione. She’d had the brains, the sense. He missed her, but he knew she’d never forgive him now. None of them would. Better they thought him dead.
A smack draws Harry from his morbid thoughts and he gazes up into sharp red eyes dully, not speaking. He doesn’t have to speak, his partner sees it all in his eyes. Or, perhaps, he merely sees it in his mind. Probably. Bloody Slytherin.
“Harry,” comes that soothing hiss, “Harry, what are you thinking about?”
Harry shudders, but dares not look away as he speaks. “My friends, Lord.”
“They aren’t your friends.” A chilled smirk accompanies these words, tearing Harry’s heart further to shreds. “They don’t want you now. Used as you are, they’d never want you again. Isn’t that right, my Harry?”
Harry doesn’t speak, it isn’t wanted. He just opens his mouth, accepting the invading tongue submissively. Submission. It made the world so much easier. Why couldn’t they all submit? Then he could be with his friends aga-
'SMACK!’
Harry’s eyes go wide and he stares into furious scarlet orbs. “My Lord...?” He murmurs, licking at the blood trailing from his lower lip. He hadn’t even recognized the pain of his lip being bitten. Of course, with his mind on other things...
“You will forget them.” Comes those dangerously seductive words. Harry shudders, trying to follow the other’s form as it circles him. Chains rattle above and Harry winces as his movement causes the cuffs holding him up to bite into his wrists painfully. “You will forget them and know only me.” Rubies glint in the dancing torchlight unexpectedly, making Harry jump, chains rattling once again. Laughter fills the room.
“Lord, please. Lord, I’m sorry. I’ll never think on them again. I swear it.” Harry whispers, staring into the red orbs before him. When had he become so pitiful that he had to resort to begging? His Gryffindor side sneers at him even as his Slytherin side tries to hush it. Survival, the Slytherin whispers. Survival, he agrees. The Gryffindor is silent.
“How sorry are you, my Harry?” Whispers the serpent’s voice as fingers slither up his sides. Sensual, always so sensual.
Harry tries, desperately, to think. “So v-very sorry, Lor-Ah!” His head flies back, eyes widening, as the sweet pain blossoms through his back. He hears the whip snap again, but it never touches his back. He isn’t sure whether he is displeased or not.
Words, spoken in a language he’d once known, and the whip was in the hands of the scarlet-eyed one. He makes patterns with the end of the handle on Harry’s chest, dragging out a moan. Sweet torture. Sweet pain. He knows. He understands.
“..please...” A whisper from the darkness. Had Harry spoken? He can’t remember. He can never remember.
“Please what?” Teasing, testing, torturing. Which is it? Harry doesn’t know anymore.
“Please...need...”
“What do you need?” Amusement. Harry knows that one.
“You. Need....need you!” The Slytherin in him is sobbing. So pathetic. Why is he so pathetic? And the Gryffindor laughs. This is what you wanted?! Ha!
“Me?” The circling again, whip tracing over his skin, through already abused skin. Sweet torture. “And where do you need me, my Harry?”
A groan, filled with desperation. “I-in....please...”
Cold laughter, and those arms. Harry shudders as the cold arms circle him and cold breath ghosts across his cheek. Cold, always cold. Why is he cold? Why never warm? It’s not fair to never have warmth.
“My Harry. My poor, poor Harry.” Fingers trace downwards. Downwards. Downwards. Then they stop and-OhGodyes! Incoherent cries. Harry can’t care anymore.
A sharp jerk, pain blossoms. Harry cries out, but the sweetness follows. Painful sweetness. A chocolate covered dagger. Burrowing, deep within. Almost, almost, THERE! Yes! Lights flash. Heaven shines, even in Hell. In this Hell. In his Hell.
“My Harry. My poor, poor Harry.” And he’s gone. Hollowness.
Harry weeps.
-~*~-
It had started innocently enough. Ron had been at Grimmauld Place for a few days, Harry even longer. He’d minded, at first, but no longer. Remus had helped. Remus had told him of games and pranks, the good days. Harry hadn’t laughed at first, but Remus was gentle, and Harry’s smiles started, then chuckles. When he’d finally laughed, Remus had laughed with him. And, when his laughter turned to sobs, Remus sobbed with him. They’d both loved Sirius. Harry loved him as family, Remus as a lover. Harry understood that now. Not then, but he did now.
But that is neither here, nor there. The past is the past and it cannot be changed. Harry knew that now, too. Harry would never forget that....
Hermione was brought to Grimmauld Place by McGonagall. She’d smiled as she plopped herself down on the end of Ron’s bed. Ron had smiled back, nervous as a lion tamer. Harry rolled his eyes helplessly before flashing Hermione a brilliant smile.
Hermione paused to consider Harry a moment, then spoke, picking her words with care. “How have you been, Harry?”
“Much better.” Harry reassured her. “Remus and I spoke. He is a good story teller.”
“Then-“ Hermione looked him over once again, swallowing her words, and a smile blossomed. “Good.” She turned on Ron suddenly. “Is that summer work I see?!”
Ron hurried to hide the letter he’d been writing. “No. It’s a letter.”
“Is your summer work finished?!”
“...no...” Ron muttered lowly, as if hoping Hermione wouldn’t hear.
But Hermione’s ears were sharp as a bat’s and her eyes narrowed. “Ronald Weasley! Put that letter away and get to work this instant!”
Harry smiled and stood, stretching. “Have fun, you two.” He offered, heading for the door at an easy pace.
“Harry Potter!” Hermione’s voice stopped him and Harry rolled his eyes before looking back at her in mock annoyance. He was too amused to be angry. “Is your summer work done?”
“Yes. Remus helped me with it. Would you like to check it over for any errors? You’re so good at that.” Harry replied teasingly. He could see Ron’s shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter behind the indignant Hermione.
“Out!” Hermione insisted. “Let me torture Ron!”
Harry laughed outright at that and was awarded with two brilliant smiles in return. “Just don’t get any blood on the carpet.” Harry offered in response to Hermione’s statement. “I’ve heard it’s dreadfully difficult to get up without a spot of magic, and you’ll have to ask one of the adults for that.” Despite the seriousness of his tone, his eyes sparkled with mirth.
“Or you could ask Fred and George. They’d think it was a lovely joke.” Ron agreed, grinning widely.
“They’d probably help you, actually.” Harry nodded firmly. “I could ask them to come up and give you a hand, if you’d like.”
“Out!” Hermione shouted again, a smile tugging at her lips. “Leave, you pest!”
Harry winked at Ron before stepping from the room and closing the door behind him. As quietly as he could, he crept towards the twins’ room. This could be fun.
-~*~-
He’s back again. Haunting. Taunting. Does Harry want him here? He doesn’t know. He never knows.
He does know one thing, though. He doesn’t want to be alone.
“My Harry.” A chilled hand runs down his chest, gently. Still, dried blood flakes off, falling to the slick stones at their feet. Stone slick with the blood of so many.
Harry allows his chin to be lifted and meets the bloodstones wearily. Always a new stone. He spends his loneliness remembering the stones. Red stones for red eyes. If they’d been brown or orange he might call them tiger eyes. But they are red instead, so he calls them rubies and bloodstones...
“Why, my Harry, you’re shivering!” He sounds almost surprised. How silly. Of course Harry is shivering! It’s bloody cold down here!
Harry says nothing, merely stares into the scarlet orbs he knows so well now. His salvation is there.
A smile twists the terrifying face. The kindness seems out of place, but Harry won’t turn it away. “You’ve been such a good little boy. Perhaps you have learned your lesson?”
Harry nods vigorously, though he knows not what the lesson could have been. Just get me down and I’ll do anything!
His Gryffindor side screams for him to fight as he is freed, but he just slumps into those cold arms. Cold salvation. Is that an oxymoron? Harry doesn’t know anymore.
Harry doesn’t know anything anymore.
-~*~-
Hermione screamed at him when she finally found him in the small Black library. Harry looked around her at Remus, who smiled in return. Amusement danced in the tired eyes of the werewolf as he caught on to what Harry had done.
Once Hermione realized Harry wasn’t paying her a bit of mind, she gave a great huff, then stalked from the room. Harry grinned at her retreating form, laughter dancing in his eyes even as his lips stayed in a straight line.
“Perhaps setting Fred and George on them was a bit too much?” Remus suggested.
“Ron didn’t mind.” Harry pointed out in response, returning his gaze to the book in his lap. “If he had, he’d be down here too.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Unless he fainted from shock.”
“Naw.” Harry gave his second, not-so-legal godfather an amused look. “If he’d fainted, Hermione would have blamed me for that too.”
“Oh, so you were paying attention to her.”
“Of course. This way, when she claims I never listen to a word she says, I can repeat her words for her. It’s fun to shut her up that way.” Harry said easily.
“Is that what you’ve been doing with me?” Remus inquired with a large smile. Harry just winked in response.
Harry was more trouble than Sirius sometimes, if only because he actually cared to use his brains from time-to-time. Of course, the young man seemed to know this just made Remus’ life more difficult, so he continued doing so. Not that Remus was planning on complaining any time soon. Harry was a gift to him. His last hold on what his life had been before Voldemort. And, though he’d never admit it, Remus needed Harry there to keep his life steady. Without the kid, he’d be lost.
-~*~-
He is treated like a prized pet. He has all he could ever want, save his humanity.
But Harry could care less. He likes being able to sit next to the Master. He likes sleeping with the Master, even if he is always rough. He likes his life here. He likes not worrying about anything. It is good like that.
The Master stands to address his followers. Harry knows that, if he concentrates really hard, he can always understand the Master, even when he’s not speaking in hisses. Curious, Harry concentrates.
“My loyal servants, we have a gift tonight! A member of that pest of an Order has given himself to us. All he asks is a quick death. He is too weak to die alone.” Laughter fills the hall and Harry winces at the loud sound. The Master’s men are always so loud. And cruel. They like to kick Harry when the Master isn’t around to stop them.
“Bring him in!” The Master shouts. All eyes turn towards the giant doors of the hall. The doors open and Harry feels his heart stop as green locks with amber.
Remus Lupin has turned himself in.
-~*~-
The best cook in the whole world, as far as Harry was concerned, was Molly Weasley. She always made the eggs just right and the bacon was never burned. There was never too much jelly on the toast and the mashed potatoes were always silky smooth. If you didn’t want your sandwich that way, then she’d make it the way you wanted, and remember that for later. She served over half of the Order every night, plus a small group of hungry children. Like a mother bird, she took care of their needs.
Each morning, Mrs Weasley woke them up with just enough time to get dressed and eat breakfast before lessons. While the children learned from whichever teacher had been able to make it that day, Mrs Weasley made their lunches. During lunch, she stood over them and made sure they all ate every bite. And when they were all done, she sent them to the library to do their homework under the quiet rule of Remus while she found out how many people to expect and started making dinner.
Dinner was always a rowdy affair at Grimmauld Place, but that was to be expected, what with the kitchen overflowing. At least thirty mouths traded stories each night, being careful to use codes around the un-official members while Mrs Weasley was in hearing range. But, if the mother hen was on the other side of the room, heads would crouch together and the full story would unfold for all the curious ears.
After only a week, the students at Grimmauld Place knew every single Order code. There was no helping it, really. When you hear people trading tales using the same words every time, you pick a few things up. And, when you know as much about the war as those students did, you figure things out. Two and two starts to make four instead of five.
Desperate for some break in the drone that had become life at Grimmauld Place, the students approached Dumbledore on one of his visits. Well, more specifically, Harry approached Dumbledore while the others watched from a safe distance.
“Sir? A word?”
Dumbledore nodded to Harry. “What can I do for you, my dear boy?”
Harry cut to the chase without preamble, knowing his bluntness would tick off his friends. “Sir, my friends and I are bored. Or school work isn’t enough to keep us busy, and we feel like we’re only in the way. I understand that you’re keeping us here at Headquarters to keep us safe and out of the line of fire, but we all feel the need to help out in some way. Tell me there’s a way we can help?”
Dumbledore looked over the mass of young men and women who’d gathered, cautiously, behind Harry. “I don’t know if there is a way you can help...” He sighed regretfully.
“Sir,” Hermione spoke up immediately, as if waiting for her chance, “we all know your codes by now. Surely there are notes and letters to de-code. We can do that while others are out in the field.”
“Please.” Ginny agreed while Neville, next to her, turned pleading eyes on the Headmaster.
Dumbledore looked down at Harry, their small, quiet leader, and saw the same need to do something in the bright green eyes, though Harry had the pride to never beg anyone for anything. He made his choice, it really wasn’t a hard one to make. “I’ll draft a made-up report and drop it by tomorrow. You’ll have half-an-hour to de-code it. If you do it, then, yes, you will all be given the jobs of de-coders.” Cheers followed that statement and Dumbledore held up his hands to silence them. “If you don’t manage to de-code it all, but do get some of it, I’ll set you up to at least help our current de-coders at their task.”
“And if we can’t de-code any of it at all?” Harry slipped in before Dumbledore could bid them all good night.
“Then you’ll have to ask me again a few months from now.” Dumbledore sent the Boy-Who-Lived a wink before turning swiftly and walking out the front door and into a ferocious storm.
Two days later, the five children had taken over the job of being de-coders.
-~*~-
“Nonononononononono!!” Harry throws a lamp against a wall in anger, watches it shatter into a million pieces, watches the pieces tinkle to the ground.
Cold arms wrap around his abdomen firmly, holding his arms against his sides. Trapped, Harry finally fights back. Teeth sink into the arm holding him, but it doesn’t let go. Rather, it tightens painfully until it is Harry who must let go.
Breathless, Harry sinks to the ground when his support is gone, gulping in lungfuls of precious air.
“What was that about?” Silky smooth, the Master’s anger slides through his hisses like it belongs there.
Harry shudders and draws in on himself.
A cold hand pulls his head back viciously and he meets the glowing embers in fear. “M-m-m-mast-er...” He tries, wetting his lips with his tongue.
A mouth closes over his, possessive as it claims his tongue, his teeth, his mouth, his whole being. Harry feels as though his soul is being pulled away, and it’s not as painful as he had once thought it would be. Smothering, perfect. He wants more. Always more.
The Master pulls away, eyes alight with a look that spells danger for Harry. He whimpers pitifully, then cringes when the Master’s eyes harden. “Explain!” Is the single furious word spoken as the Master uses his hair to rattle his head sharply.
“Remus!” Harry cries, eyes wide as tears start tracks down the sides of his face. “RemusRemusRemusRemus...” He starts sobbing the name, not even noticing as his tongue starts forming the name of his second godfather in English instead of Parseltongue.
There is a thump, then a sob, as Harry is thrown into the wall. “Remus! Remus! What about the damned werewolf?!” The Master screams in English, fury radiating from his very being. “Why do you care about that creature?! Why do you think about him so much?!”
Harry crouches under a table, watching his Master fearfully, still whispering his godfather’s name to himself.
Please don’t let him hate me.
-~*~-
Harry was always the first to spot the truly important documents. He’d shift through the pile as soon as they all sat down around the small table in the study. With practised ease, he’d hand the most important to Hermione, and the second most important to Neville. Pleas for plans of attack went straight to Ron, who de-coded them, then saw what he could suggest before passing them on to Dumbledore. Ginny and Harry split the rest amongst themselves and then got to work slowly.
Hermione always finished first, then helped Neville. Once done with those, the two best de-coders would attempt to bear down on Harry and Ginny, but the two would hear none of it and made their friends take the documents they’d de-coded straight to Dumbledore. By the time Hermione and Neville had returned, Harry and Ginny would be done and ready for the next batch given to them from the Headmaster.
It was a never-ending cycle that the students begged for an ending to.
The ending came sometime in January. Hermione had just finished de-coding a document and was reading over it to see if it made sense. She froze for half a second, then started hyperventilating. “OhGodOhGodOhGod....”
“Hermione?” Ron frowned up at his girlfriend.
Harry’s eyes narrowed and he summoned the document over to where he and Ginny sat with a smooth motion. He read through it once, then jumped to his feet. “Gather everything in bags! Now!” He shouted. “Hermione, snap out of it! We have to move!”
As the other students grabbed all their documents, Harry flew down the stairs and onto the main floor. “Sonorus! ALL ORDER MEMBERS TO THE KITCHEN! WE NEED TO EVACUATE!” He shouted, then, muttering the counter spell, sped down to the kitchen himself with the de-coded letter. It was straight from Snape - he’d know that handwriting anywhere - and it told them that Voldemort knew of the location of Headquarters. He didn’t say how or when Voldemort had found out, only that he had.
With the letter as evidence, members started Flooing out. Harry seemed to be the only one who remembered his friends and, leaving the de-coded letter on the kitchen table, he ran back up to the study just as banging started on the door to the house.
Hermione was still frozen in shock. Harry, with his usual ability to think best on his feet, sent a spray of cold water from his wand into her face. The girl startled herself into reality. “Where-“
“No time! Run!” Harry hissed, pointing her towards the door. Ginny, Ron, and Neville had already made a break for it, leaving the situation for Harry to take control of. After all, he didn’t have the important documents that they’d need at the school.
Together, Harry and Hermione dashed down the staircases, aiming for the kitchen. However, by the time they’d gotten to the main floor, the Death Eaters were in.
Harry pulled Hermione back into the shadows. “When I say go, you run for it.” He hissed, green eyes flashing in the darkness. “The paper you de-coded should be on the kitchen table. Grab it before you go through the Floo, then close the Floo on the other end. Got it?”
“Harry, what about you?!” Hermione whispered, terrified.
Harry offered her a thin smile. “Either I’ll make it out alive, like I always do, or Voldemort’ll finally kill me. Either way, you have to keep the code out of their hands, got it?”
Hermione nodded, eyes still wide with fear. “Yes.”
Harry gave her a brief hug, then nodded. “I’ll cover.” He sat up, so he could easily see over her. “Go!” He hissed at the same time as he sent a spell at the closet door on the other side of the room.
As he’d hoped, all the Death Eaters turned to the closet, giving Hermione the time she’d needed to dash across the five steps to the stairwell down to the kitchen. Before the first spell was shot after his friend, Harry stepped into sight with a cold smile. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen. As your host today, I think I’ll enjoy hexing you all.” He offered cheerfully.
“Potter!” Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice called from one of the masked visitors.
Harry bowed slightly. “At your service, Mrs Lestrange. How are you this fine afternoon?”
“KILL HIM!!”
“No.” A silky voice murmured. Harry gasped as his forehead burst into pain so suddenly, it felt as if his head was being cut in half.
Voldemort stepped into sight, smiling down at his long-time enemy. “Harry Potter. We meet again.”
“Shove off, Voldemort.” Harry growled in response.
“I see no one ever taught you any manners, Harry. What a pity. I suppose I’ll just have to teach you myself.” The Dark Lord’s eyes hardened, sending another flare of pain through Harry’s head. “Take his wand and bind him. He will be my prize.”
Feeling as though his head would split apart at any moment, Harry didn’t even bother putting up a fight.
-~*~-
Harry pauses outside the cell Remus is being held in with a sad smile. The werewolf has been thrown against the wall and is curled up in a corner. Harry lets out a plaintive sound. When Remus stirs, he tries again.
Remus’ eyes snap open and he stares at Harry for a long moment before inching towards the bars. “Harry?” He whispers, disbelief colouring his voice.
Harry’s face breaks out into a smile. “Remus. You’re alive.”
Remus nods faintly. “I could say the same for you.” He takes in Harry’s clean clothing and spectacle-free face. “Are you happy here?”
Harry blinks a few times thoughtfully, then shrugs. “I don’t know. Define happy.”
Remus’ eyes mist up. “Oh, Harry... I’m so sorry...”
Harry blinks, confused. “For what?”
“For not protecting you like I should have. For not being a proper godfather...”
“So this is where you’ve run off to, you little monster.” The Master comes in to sight from the shadows he’d been hiding in.
“You’re the monster, Voldemort!” Remus shouts, standing suddenly to glare at the Dark Wizard furiously. “Let Harry alone!”
The Master just offers Remus a cold smile before glancing down at the frowning Harry Potter. “Do you still want him alive?” He inquires easily.
Harry glances up at the red eyes sadly. “Not in a cage. Don’t cage Remus.” And then he starts to cry.
The Master’s eyes widen and he quickly scoops Harry up into his arms. “Hush, my Harry, hush.” He murmurs. “We must cage him, my little one, or he’ll cause trouble.”
Remus looks on with horror-filled eyes as Harry cuddles up against the Dark Lord.
“Then let him go.” Is the response from Harry.
For one split second, all things stop. Everyone stops breathing and the dripping from farther down in the dungeon seems to silence. Remus’ eyes lock with Harry’s for that split second and, in those eyes, he sees the young man he’s come to love and adore looking back at him. That young man who gave his freedom to save a world. That young man who thought nothing of himself, only of others.
The moment ends, though, and Harry glances up at the man who holds him. “Please?”
The begging nearly un-does Remus entirely, though the small wizard being held by the Dark Lord seems to have an effect on the older man, for he relaxes minutely. “We’ll see.”
-~*~-
Harry stared at the Dark Lord defiantly. “You’ll never break me, Voldemort.”
“You’re wrong there, Potter.” Voldemort replied with a touch of amusement as he circled his chained ‘prize’. “I think you’ll be quite easy to break. And fun, too.”
Harry spat in the Dark Lord’s face with a smirk. “Try me.”
Voldemort wiped away the saliva with a smile. “But of course.” Before Harry could even think, he felt the Dark Lord’s hands on him *there*.
Eyes widened, Harry struggled to get away from the groping hand, only to find his bum pressing against a rather hard lump in the form behind him. Nonononononononono!! He screamed mentally while forcing himself to stay still.
The staying still turned out to be a bad choice, as the Dark Lord seemed to take it as Harry’s okay. The teen’s pants and boxers were gone with the flick of Voldemort’s wrist, and one hand slid up Harry’s thigh sensually to wrap around the teen’s half-hard member. “Just enjoy yourself, my pet.” Voldemort whispered in Harry’s ear as his free hand slid up under the boy’s shirt.
Harry whimpered in response, once again attempting to get away from the chilled hands. They were cold and they hurt and he didn’t want this!
“Want more already?” Voldemort hissed, licking along Harry’s earlobe. “You are the perfect little whore, aren’t you?”
“No!” Harry cried, then bit his lower lip to keep from crying out anything else. He had to be strong.
“No?” The Dark Lord laughed coldly, then gave Harry’s cock a sharp tug. “Yessssss.”
Harry let out a sob and closed his eyes. I’ll suffer through anything to keep them safe! Anything! He thought to himself sadly.
Voldemort let out a displeased hiss, eyes narrowed dangerously. He gave one of Harry’s nipples a vicious twist before tugging on his cock again. Each action pulled only a whimper from Harry. With a scowl, the Dark Lord forced Harry’s head around, then pressed his mouth the to boy’s.
Green eyes flew open wide in horror and Harry started struggling again. Pleased with the reaction, Voldemort continued stroking Harry’s now-weeping member. Oh, yes, Harry liked it rough. The Dark Lord laughed to himself. He’d break the little shit if it was the last thing he did.
-~*~-
“Here.” The Master lies something down next to Harry.
Harry blinks at the rolled up piece of parchment blankly for a minute before glancing up at his keeper curiously. “What is it?”
“It’s a letter. For you.”
Harry blinks again, this time his gaze holds confusion. “Who’d send me a letter?”
The Master’s eyes light up with amusement and he relaxes on the bed next to the young man. “Open it.”
Harry sighs and does as he’s told. When he sees who’s written him his letter, his eyes widen in shock for a moment. With a sudden laugh, he throws himself into the Master’s arms, hugging him tightly. “You let him go!”
“Yes, I did.” A faint smile, one that Harry has never seen before, one that reminds him of the human behind the ruby eyes, pulls at the Master’s mouth. Harry is speechless at the rare occurrence. “Well, read it, then.” The Master chuckles.
“Out loud?” Harry wonders.
“It’s your letter.”
Harry blinks up at the blood-red eyes. “Yes...” With a sudden smile, mind decided, he shifts himself so he’s sitting in the Master’s lap comfortably before reading the letter aloud. “ ‘Dear Harry’,” He starts, smile widening when he feels the Master’s arm encircle his waist gently. “ ‘How are things there? Well, I hope. Things are looking fine here. Severus promised to ferry letters between us until peace finally comes about. Hopefully, that will occur sooner, rather than later. Also, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville all say hello. They are glad to hear that you are well cared for, even if it is by old snake-face. Take care and write me back soon. Much love, your godfather, Remus’.”
Without comment, the Master wipes away Harry’s tears. When he speaks, it is gentle. “There’s more, isn’t there?” He nods to the postscript that Remus had scrawled across the bottom.
Harry nods and licks his lips before reading the last line, tears once again coming to his eyes. “ ‘And I thank you for my freedom, cub, I just hope it doesn’t cost you any more. You’ve already paid your debts.’ ”
The Master hums a soft agreement. “And so you have, my Harry. And so you have.”
Liked it? Hated it? Lemme know.
(And, no, I won't be continuing this, so hush.)
Ah! An, college is going well. Much fun. And the beds are soft. XD
~Bats ^.^x
As it stands, here is the fic:
Title: The Decent Thing
Author: batsutousai
Beta: magickmaker17
Pairings: Voldemort/Harry(with a mention of Remus/Sirius thrown in on the side)
Warnings/Kinks: Non-con, bondage, chan, violence, torture
Word Count: 5,037 words
Summary: Trapped in a world of his own making, Harry Potter remembers what led up to where he is now.
Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The quote is from Seamus Heaney so, no, don’t own that either.
-~*~-
“You lose more of yourself than you redeem
Doing the decent thing.”
~ Seamus Heaney
-~*~-
Mere curiosity. That was all it had taken for him to do another stupid thing. Harry would damn his Gryffindor genes to Hell - like that is anything new - but it feels too good. Some back part of his mind screams that it is bad, that he shouldn’t enjoy this so, but he merely tells it to sod off.
Hermione always had been the sensible one. Not Ron, not Neville, not even Ginny, and especially not him. Hermione. She’d had the brains, the sense. He missed her, but he knew she’d never forgive him now. None of them would. Better they thought him dead.
A smack draws Harry from his morbid thoughts and he gazes up into sharp red eyes dully, not speaking. He doesn’t have to speak, his partner sees it all in his eyes. Or, perhaps, he merely sees it in his mind. Probably. Bloody Slytherin.
“Harry,” comes that soothing hiss, “Harry, what are you thinking about?”
Harry shudders, but dares not look away as he speaks. “My friends, Lord.”
“They aren’t your friends.” A chilled smirk accompanies these words, tearing Harry’s heart further to shreds. “They don’t want you now. Used as you are, they’d never want you again. Isn’t that right, my Harry?”
Harry doesn’t speak, it isn’t wanted. He just opens his mouth, accepting the invading tongue submissively. Submission. It made the world so much easier. Why couldn’t they all submit? Then he could be with his friends aga-
'SMACK!’
Harry’s eyes go wide and he stares into furious scarlet orbs. “My Lord...?” He murmurs, licking at the blood trailing from his lower lip. He hadn’t even recognized the pain of his lip being bitten. Of course, with his mind on other things...
“You will forget them.” Comes those dangerously seductive words. Harry shudders, trying to follow the other’s form as it circles him. Chains rattle above and Harry winces as his movement causes the cuffs holding him up to bite into his wrists painfully. “You will forget them and know only me.” Rubies glint in the dancing torchlight unexpectedly, making Harry jump, chains rattling once again. Laughter fills the room.
“Lord, please. Lord, I’m sorry. I’ll never think on them again. I swear it.” Harry whispers, staring into the red orbs before him. When had he become so pitiful that he had to resort to begging? His Gryffindor side sneers at him even as his Slytherin side tries to hush it. Survival, the Slytherin whispers. Survival, he agrees. The Gryffindor is silent.
“How sorry are you, my Harry?” Whispers the serpent’s voice as fingers slither up his sides. Sensual, always so sensual.
Harry tries, desperately, to think. “So v-very sorry, Lor-Ah!” His head flies back, eyes widening, as the sweet pain blossoms through his back. He hears the whip snap again, but it never touches his back. He isn’t sure whether he is displeased or not.
Words, spoken in a language he’d once known, and the whip was in the hands of the scarlet-eyed one. He makes patterns with the end of the handle on Harry’s chest, dragging out a moan. Sweet torture. Sweet pain. He knows. He understands.
“..please...” A whisper from the darkness. Had Harry spoken? He can’t remember. He can never remember.
“Please what?” Teasing, testing, torturing. Which is it? Harry doesn’t know anymore.
“Please...need...”
“What do you need?” Amusement. Harry knows that one.
“You. Need....need you!” The Slytherin in him is sobbing. So pathetic. Why is he so pathetic? And the Gryffindor laughs. This is what you wanted?! Ha!
“Me?” The circling again, whip tracing over his skin, through already abused skin. Sweet torture. “And where do you need me, my Harry?”
A groan, filled with desperation. “I-in....please...”
Cold laughter, and those arms. Harry shudders as the cold arms circle him and cold breath ghosts across his cheek. Cold, always cold. Why is he cold? Why never warm? It’s not fair to never have warmth.
“My Harry. My poor, poor Harry.” Fingers trace downwards. Downwards. Downwards. Then they stop and-OhGodyes! Incoherent cries. Harry can’t care anymore.
A sharp jerk, pain blossoms. Harry cries out, but the sweetness follows. Painful sweetness. A chocolate covered dagger. Burrowing, deep within. Almost, almost, THERE! Yes! Lights flash. Heaven shines, even in Hell. In this Hell. In his Hell.
“My Harry. My poor, poor Harry.” And he’s gone. Hollowness.
Harry weeps.
-~*~-
It had started innocently enough. Ron had been at Grimmauld Place for a few days, Harry even longer. He’d minded, at first, but no longer. Remus had helped. Remus had told him of games and pranks, the good days. Harry hadn’t laughed at first, but Remus was gentle, and Harry’s smiles started, then chuckles. When he’d finally laughed, Remus had laughed with him. And, when his laughter turned to sobs, Remus sobbed with him. They’d both loved Sirius. Harry loved him as family, Remus as a lover. Harry understood that now. Not then, but he did now.
But that is neither here, nor there. The past is the past and it cannot be changed. Harry knew that now, too. Harry would never forget that....
Hermione was brought to Grimmauld Place by McGonagall. She’d smiled as she plopped herself down on the end of Ron’s bed. Ron had smiled back, nervous as a lion tamer. Harry rolled his eyes helplessly before flashing Hermione a brilliant smile.
Hermione paused to consider Harry a moment, then spoke, picking her words with care. “How have you been, Harry?”
“Much better.” Harry reassured her. “Remus and I spoke. He is a good story teller.”
“Then-“ Hermione looked him over once again, swallowing her words, and a smile blossomed. “Good.” She turned on Ron suddenly. “Is that summer work I see?!”
Ron hurried to hide the letter he’d been writing. “No. It’s a letter.”
“Is your summer work finished?!”
“...no...” Ron muttered lowly, as if hoping Hermione wouldn’t hear.
But Hermione’s ears were sharp as a bat’s and her eyes narrowed. “Ronald Weasley! Put that letter away and get to work this instant!”
Harry smiled and stood, stretching. “Have fun, you two.” He offered, heading for the door at an easy pace.
“Harry Potter!” Hermione’s voice stopped him and Harry rolled his eyes before looking back at her in mock annoyance. He was too amused to be angry. “Is your summer work done?”
“Yes. Remus helped me with it. Would you like to check it over for any errors? You’re so good at that.” Harry replied teasingly. He could see Ron’s shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter behind the indignant Hermione.
“Out!” Hermione insisted. “Let me torture Ron!”
Harry laughed outright at that and was awarded with two brilliant smiles in return. “Just don’t get any blood on the carpet.” Harry offered in response to Hermione’s statement. “I’ve heard it’s dreadfully difficult to get up without a spot of magic, and you’ll have to ask one of the adults for that.” Despite the seriousness of his tone, his eyes sparkled with mirth.
“Or you could ask Fred and George. They’d think it was a lovely joke.” Ron agreed, grinning widely.
“They’d probably help you, actually.” Harry nodded firmly. “I could ask them to come up and give you a hand, if you’d like.”
“Out!” Hermione shouted again, a smile tugging at her lips. “Leave, you pest!”
Harry winked at Ron before stepping from the room and closing the door behind him. As quietly as he could, he crept towards the twins’ room. This could be fun.
-~*~-
He’s back again. Haunting. Taunting. Does Harry want him here? He doesn’t know. He never knows.
He does know one thing, though. He doesn’t want to be alone.
“My Harry.” A chilled hand runs down his chest, gently. Still, dried blood flakes off, falling to the slick stones at their feet. Stone slick with the blood of so many.
Harry allows his chin to be lifted and meets the bloodstones wearily. Always a new stone. He spends his loneliness remembering the stones. Red stones for red eyes. If they’d been brown or orange he might call them tiger eyes. But they are red instead, so he calls them rubies and bloodstones...
“Why, my Harry, you’re shivering!” He sounds almost surprised. How silly. Of course Harry is shivering! It’s bloody cold down here!
Harry says nothing, merely stares into the scarlet orbs he knows so well now. His salvation is there.
A smile twists the terrifying face. The kindness seems out of place, but Harry won’t turn it away. “You’ve been such a good little boy. Perhaps you have learned your lesson?”
Harry nods vigorously, though he knows not what the lesson could have been. Just get me down and I’ll do anything!
His Gryffindor side screams for him to fight as he is freed, but he just slumps into those cold arms. Cold salvation. Is that an oxymoron? Harry doesn’t know anymore.
Harry doesn’t know anything anymore.
-~*~-
Hermione screamed at him when she finally found him in the small Black library. Harry looked around her at Remus, who smiled in return. Amusement danced in the tired eyes of the werewolf as he caught on to what Harry had done.
Once Hermione realized Harry wasn’t paying her a bit of mind, she gave a great huff, then stalked from the room. Harry grinned at her retreating form, laughter dancing in his eyes even as his lips stayed in a straight line.
“Perhaps setting Fred and George on them was a bit too much?” Remus suggested.
“Ron didn’t mind.” Harry pointed out in response, returning his gaze to the book in his lap. “If he had, he’d be down here too.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Unless he fainted from shock.”
“Naw.” Harry gave his second, not-so-legal godfather an amused look. “If he’d fainted, Hermione would have blamed me for that too.”
“Oh, so you were paying attention to her.”
“Of course. This way, when she claims I never listen to a word she says, I can repeat her words for her. It’s fun to shut her up that way.” Harry said easily.
“Is that what you’ve been doing with me?” Remus inquired with a large smile. Harry just winked in response.
Harry was more trouble than Sirius sometimes, if only because he actually cared to use his brains from time-to-time. Of course, the young man seemed to know this just made Remus’ life more difficult, so he continued doing so. Not that Remus was planning on complaining any time soon. Harry was a gift to him. His last hold on what his life had been before Voldemort. And, though he’d never admit it, Remus needed Harry there to keep his life steady. Without the kid, he’d be lost.
-~*~-
He is treated like a prized pet. He has all he could ever want, save his humanity.
But Harry could care less. He likes being able to sit next to the Master. He likes sleeping with the Master, even if he is always rough. He likes his life here. He likes not worrying about anything. It is good like that.
The Master stands to address his followers. Harry knows that, if he concentrates really hard, he can always understand the Master, even when he’s not speaking in hisses. Curious, Harry concentrates.
“My loyal servants, we have a gift tonight! A member of that pest of an Order has given himself to us. All he asks is a quick death. He is too weak to die alone.” Laughter fills the hall and Harry winces at the loud sound. The Master’s men are always so loud. And cruel. They like to kick Harry when the Master isn’t around to stop them.
“Bring him in!” The Master shouts. All eyes turn towards the giant doors of the hall. The doors open and Harry feels his heart stop as green locks with amber.
Remus Lupin has turned himself in.
-~*~-
The best cook in the whole world, as far as Harry was concerned, was Molly Weasley. She always made the eggs just right and the bacon was never burned. There was never too much jelly on the toast and the mashed potatoes were always silky smooth. If you didn’t want your sandwich that way, then she’d make it the way you wanted, and remember that for later. She served over half of the Order every night, plus a small group of hungry children. Like a mother bird, she took care of their needs.
Each morning, Mrs Weasley woke them up with just enough time to get dressed and eat breakfast before lessons. While the children learned from whichever teacher had been able to make it that day, Mrs Weasley made their lunches. During lunch, she stood over them and made sure they all ate every bite. And when they were all done, she sent them to the library to do their homework under the quiet rule of Remus while she found out how many people to expect and started making dinner.
Dinner was always a rowdy affair at Grimmauld Place, but that was to be expected, what with the kitchen overflowing. At least thirty mouths traded stories each night, being careful to use codes around the un-official members while Mrs Weasley was in hearing range. But, if the mother hen was on the other side of the room, heads would crouch together and the full story would unfold for all the curious ears.
After only a week, the students at Grimmauld Place knew every single Order code. There was no helping it, really. When you hear people trading tales using the same words every time, you pick a few things up. And, when you know as much about the war as those students did, you figure things out. Two and two starts to make four instead of five.
Desperate for some break in the drone that had become life at Grimmauld Place, the students approached Dumbledore on one of his visits. Well, more specifically, Harry approached Dumbledore while the others watched from a safe distance.
“Sir? A word?”
Dumbledore nodded to Harry. “What can I do for you, my dear boy?”
Harry cut to the chase without preamble, knowing his bluntness would tick off his friends. “Sir, my friends and I are bored. Or school work isn’t enough to keep us busy, and we feel like we’re only in the way. I understand that you’re keeping us here at Headquarters to keep us safe and out of the line of fire, but we all feel the need to help out in some way. Tell me there’s a way we can help?”
Dumbledore looked over the mass of young men and women who’d gathered, cautiously, behind Harry. “I don’t know if there is a way you can help...” He sighed regretfully.
“Sir,” Hermione spoke up immediately, as if waiting for her chance, “we all know your codes by now. Surely there are notes and letters to de-code. We can do that while others are out in the field.”
“Please.” Ginny agreed while Neville, next to her, turned pleading eyes on the Headmaster.
Dumbledore looked down at Harry, their small, quiet leader, and saw the same need to do something in the bright green eyes, though Harry had the pride to never beg anyone for anything. He made his choice, it really wasn’t a hard one to make. “I’ll draft a made-up report and drop it by tomorrow. You’ll have half-an-hour to de-code it. If you do it, then, yes, you will all be given the jobs of de-coders.” Cheers followed that statement and Dumbledore held up his hands to silence them. “If you don’t manage to de-code it all, but do get some of it, I’ll set you up to at least help our current de-coders at their task.”
“And if we can’t de-code any of it at all?” Harry slipped in before Dumbledore could bid them all good night.
“Then you’ll have to ask me again a few months from now.” Dumbledore sent the Boy-Who-Lived a wink before turning swiftly and walking out the front door and into a ferocious storm.
Two days later, the five children had taken over the job of being de-coders.
-~*~-
“Nonononononononono!!” Harry throws a lamp against a wall in anger, watches it shatter into a million pieces, watches the pieces tinkle to the ground.
Cold arms wrap around his abdomen firmly, holding his arms against his sides. Trapped, Harry finally fights back. Teeth sink into the arm holding him, but it doesn’t let go. Rather, it tightens painfully until it is Harry who must let go.
Breathless, Harry sinks to the ground when his support is gone, gulping in lungfuls of precious air.
“What was that about?” Silky smooth, the Master’s anger slides through his hisses like it belongs there.
Harry shudders and draws in on himself.
A cold hand pulls his head back viciously and he meets the glowing embers in fear. “M-m-m-mast-er...” He tries, wetting his lips with his tongue.
A mouth closes over his, possessive as it claims his tongue, his teeth, his mouth, his whole being. Harry feels as though his soul is being pulled away, and it’s not as painful as he had once thought it would be. Smothering, perfect. He wants more. Always more.
The Master pulls away, eyes alight with a look that spells danger for Harry. He whimpers pitifully, then cringes when the Master’s eyes harden. “Explain!” Is the single furious word spoken as the Master uses his hair to rattle his head sharply.
“Remus!” Harry cries, eyes wide as tears start tracks down the sides of his face. “RemusRemusRemusRemus...” He starts sobbing the name, not even noticing as his tongue starts forming the name of his second godfather in English instead of Parseltongue.
There is a thump, then a sob, as Harry is thrown into the wall. “Remus! Remus! What about the damned werewolf?!” The Master screams in English, fury radiating from his very being. “Why do you care about that creature?! Why do you think about him so much?!”
Harry crouches under a table, watching his Master fearfully, still whispering his godfather’s name to himself.
Please don’t let him hate me.
-~*~-
Harry was always the first to spot the truly important documents. He’d shift through the pile as soon as they all sat down around the small table in the study. With practised ease, he’d hand the most important to Hermione, and the second most important to Neville. Pleas for plans of attack went straight to Ron, who de-coded them, then saw what he could suggest before passing them on to Dumbledore. Ginny and Harry split the rest amongst themselves and then got to work slowly.
Hermione always finished first, then helped Neville. Once done with those, the two best de-coders would attempt to bear down on Harry and Ginny, but the two would hear none of it and made their friends take the documents they’d de-coded straight to Dumbledore. By the time Hermione and Neville had returned, Harry and Ginny would be done and ready for the next batch given to them from the Headmaster.
It was a never-ending cycle that the students begged for an ending to.
The ending came sometime in January. Hermione had just finished de-coding a document and was reading over it to see if it made sense. She froze for half a second, then started hyperventilating. “OhGodOhGodOhGod....”
“Hermione?” Ron frowned up at his girlfriend.
Harry’s eyes narrowed and he summoned the document over to where he and Ginny sat with a smooth motion. He read through it once, then jumped to his feet. “Gather everything in bags! Now!” He shouted. “Hermione, snap out of it! We have to move!”
As the other students grabbed all their documents, Harry flew down the stairs and onto the main floor. “Sonorus! ALL ORDER MEMBERS TO THE KITCHEN! WE NEED TO EVACUATE!” He shouted, then, muttering the counter spell, sped down to the kitchen himself with the de-coded letter. It was straight from Snape - he’d know that handwriting anywhere - and it told them that Voldemort knew of the location of Headquarters. He didn’t say how or when Voldemort had found out, only that he had.
With the letter as evidence, members started Flooing out. Harry seemed to be the only one who remembered his friends and, leaving the de-coded letter on the kitchen table, he ran back up to the study just as banging started on the door to the house.
Hermione was still frozen in shock. Harry, with his usual ability to think best on his feet, sent a spray of cold water from his wand into her face. The girl startled herself into reality. “Where-“
“No time! Run!” Harry hissed, pointing her towards the door. Ginny, Ron, and Neville had already made a break for it, leaving the situation for Harry to take control of. After all, he didn’t have the important documents that they’d need at the school.
Together, Harry and Hermione dashed down the staircases, aiming for the kitchen. However, by the time they’d gotten to the main floor, the Death Eaters were in.
Harry pulled Hermione back into the shadows. “When I say go, you run for it.” He hissed, green eyes flashing in the darkness. “The paper you de-coded should be on the kitchen table. Grab it before you go through the Floo, then close the Floo on the other end. Got it?”
“Harry, what about you?!” Hermione whispered, terrified.
Harry offered her a thin smile. “Either I’ll make it out alive, like I always do, or Voldemort’ll finally kill me. Either way, you have to keep the code out of their hands, got it?”
Hermione nodded, eyes still wide with fear. “Yes.”
Harry gave her a brief hug, then nodded. “I’ll cover.” He sat up, so he could easily see over her. “Go!” He hissed at the same time as he sent a spell at the closet door on the other side of the room.
As he’d hoped, all the Death Eaters turned to the closet, giving Hermione the time she’d needed to dash across the five steps to the stairwell down to the kitchen. Before the first spell was shot after his friend, Harry stepped into sight with a cold smile. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen. As your host today, I think I’ll enjoy hexing you all.” He offered cheerfully.
“Potter!” Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice called from one of the masked visitors.
Harry bowed slightly. “At your service, Mrs Lestrange. How are you this fine afternoon?”
“KILL HIM!!”
“No.” A silky voice murmured. Harry gasped as his forehead burst into pain so suddenly, it felt as if his head was being cut in half.
Voldemort stepped into sight, smiling down at his long-time enemy. “Harry Potter. We meet again.”
“Shove off, Voldemort.” Harry growled in response.
“I see no one ever taught you any manners, Harry. What a pity. I suppose I’ll just have to teach you myself.” The Dark Lord’s eyes hardened, sending another flare of pain through Harry’s head. “Take his wand and bind him. He will be my prize.”
Feeling as though his head would split apart at any moment, Harry didn’t even bother putting up a fight.
-~*~-
Harry pauses outside the cell Remus is being held in with a sad smile. The werewolf has been thrown against the wall and is curled up in a corner. Harry lets out a plaintive sound. When Remus stirs, he tries again.
Remus’ eyes snap open and he stares at Harry for a long moment before inching towards the bars. “Harry?” He whispers, disbelief colouring his voice.
Harry’s face breaks out into a smile. “Remus. You’re alive.”
Remus nods faintly. “I could say the same for you.” He takes in Harry’s clean clothing and spectacle-free face. “Are you happy here?”
Harry blinks a few times thoughtfully, then shrugs. “I don’t know. Define happy.”
Remus’ eyes mist up. “Oh, Harry... I’m so sorry...”
Harry blinks, confused. “For what?”
“For not protecting you like I should have. For not being a proper godfather...”
“So this is where you’ve run off to, you little monster.” The Master comes in to sight from the shadows he’d been hiding in.
“You’re the monster, Voldemort!” Remus shouts, standing suddenly to glare at the Dark Wizard furiously. “Let Harry alone!”
The Master just offers Remus a cold smile before glancing down at the frowning Harry Potter. “Do you still want him alive?” He inquires easily.
Harry glances up at the red eyes sadly. “Not in a cage. Don’t cage Remus.” And then he starts to cry.
The Master’s eyes widen and he quickly scoops Harry up into his arms. “Hush, my Harry, hush.” He murmurs. “We must cage him, my little one, or he’ll cause trouble.”
Remus looks on with horror-filled eyes as Harry cuddles up against the Dark Lord.
“Then let him go.” Is the response from Harry.
For one split second, all things stop. Everyone stops breathing and the dripping from farther down in the dungeon seems to silence. Remus’ eyes lock with Harry’s for that split second and, in those eyes, he sees the young man he’s come to love and adore looking back at him. That young man who gave his freedom to save a world. That young man who thought nothing of himself, only of others.
The moment ends, though, and Harry glances up at the man who holds him. “Please?”
The begging nearly un-does Remus entirely, though the small wizard being held by the Dark Lord seems to have an effect on the older man, for he relaxes minutely. “We’ll see.”
-~*~-
Harry stared at the Dark Lord defiantly. “You’ll never break me, Voldemort.”
“You’re wrong there, Potter.” Voldemort replied with a touch of amusement as he circled his chained ‘prize’. “I think you’ll be quite easy to break. And fun, too.”
Harry spat in the Dark Lord’s face with a smirk. “Try me.”
Voldemort wiped away the saliva with a smile. “But of course.” Before Harry could even think, he felt the Dark Lord’s hands on him *there*.
Eyes widened, Harry struggled to get away from the groping hand, only to find his bum pressing against a rather hard lump in the form behind him. Nonononononononono!! He screamed mentally while forcing himself to stay still.
The staying still turned out to be a bad choice, as the Dark Lord seemed to take it as Harry’s okay. The teen’s pants and boxers were gone with the flick of Voldemort’s wrist, and one hand slid up Harry’s thigh sensually to wrap around the teen’s half-hard member. “Just enjoy yourself, my pet.” Voldemort whispered in Harry’s ear as his free hand slid up under the boy’s shirt.
Harry whimpered in response, once again attempting to get away from the chilled hands. They were cold and they hurt and he didn’t want this!
“Want more already?” Voldemort hissed, licking along Harry’s earlobe. “You are the perfect little whore, aren’t you?”
“No!” Harry cried, then bit his lower lip to keep from crying out anything else. He had to be strong.
“No?” The Dark Lord laughed coldly, then gave Harry’s cock a sharp tug. “Yessssss.”
Harry let out a sob and closed his eyes. I’ll suffer through anything to keep them safe! Anything! He thought to himself sadly.
Voldemort let out a displeased hiss, eyes narrowed dangerously. He gave one of Harry’s nipples a vicious twist before tugging on his cock again. Each action pulled only a whimper from Harry. With a scowl, the Dark Lord forced Harry’s head around, then pressed his mouth the to boy’s.
Green eyes flew open wide in horror and Harry started struggling again. Pleased with the reaction, Voldemort continued stroking Harry’s now-weeping member. Oh, yes, Harry liked it rough. The Dark Lord laughed to himself. He’d break the little shit if it was the last thing he did.
-~*~-
“Here.” The Master lies something down next to Harry.
Harry blinks at the rolled up piece of parchment blankly for a minute before glancing up at his keeper curiously. “What is it?”
“It’s a letter. For you.”
Harry blinks again, this time his gaze holds confusion. “Who’d send me a letter?”
The Master’s eyes light up with amusement and he relaxes on the bed next to the young man. “Open it.”
Harry sighs and does as he’s told. When he sees who’s written him his letter, his eyes widen in shock for a moment. With a sudden laugh, he throws himself into the Master’s arms, hugging him tightly. “You let him go!”
“Yes, I did.” A faint smile, one that Harry has never seen before, one that reminds him of the human behind the ruby eyes, pulls at the Master’s mouth. Harry is speechless at the rare occurrence. “Well, read it, then.” The Master chuckles.
“Out loud?” Harry wonders.
“It’s your letter.”
Harry blinks up at the blood-red eyes. “Yes...” With a sudden smile, mind decided, he shifts himself so he’s sitting in the Master’s lap comfortably before reading the letter aloud. “ ‘Dear Harry’,” He starts, smile widening when he feels the Master’s arm encircle his waist gently. “ ‘How are things there? Well, I hope. Things are looking fine here. Severus promised to ferry letters between us until peace finally comes about. Hopefully, that will occur sooner, rather than later. Also, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville all say hello. They are glad to hear that you are well cared for, even if it is by old snake-face. Take care and write me back soon. Much love, your godfather, Remus’.”
Without comment, the Master wipes away Harry’s tears. When he speaks, it is gentle. “There’s more, isn’t there?” He nods to the postscript that Remus had scrawled across the bottom.
Harry nods and licks his lips before reading the last line, tears once again coming to his eyes. “ ‘And I thank you for my freedom, cub, I just hope it doesn’t cost you any more. You’ve already paid your debts.’ ”
The Master hums a soft agreement. “And so you have, my Harry. And so you have.”
Liked it? Hated it? Lemme know.
(And, no, I won't be continuing this, so hush.)
Ah! An, college is going well. Much fun. And the beds are soft. XD
~Bats ^.^x