I do not own Harry Potter.
Yup, another fic. First 5 chapters are complete
Now onto the boring shit I have to post at the beginning of new fics because some idiots can't read the tags before clicking on the fic then bitching me out...
This is slash...you have been warned. This means no sending me pm's because you don't like slash, but we're stupid enough to click on it.
There is non-con...dubious consent...underage
This is not canon. If you want canon, read Harry Potter, not fanfics
Prob going to be Dumbledore bashing, still haven't decided
Friend me on FB Miste Potter
Harry felt his heart freeze in his chest as ice rushed through his veins. Eyes wide, he stared in disbelief and horror at the man in front of him. From a distance he had looked like an innocent enough man, someone just out relaxing at the bar, possibly looking for a good time. How could he have been so stupid?
Harry had been drawn to the man the second he entered the bar. He should have seen that for the warning sign that it was. Normally, he would dance some, make his way around the room, scout out the single men in the bar for an hour or two, before zeroing in on the man he wanted. Never, had he felt an instant attraction to someone before, especially to someone whose face he hadn't even seen yet.
There was just something about the man sitting at the bar with his back to him, something that had his magic tingling pleasantly under her skin. He couldn't see his face, all he could see was broad, muscular shoulders, a tight ass, and dark brown wavy hair that just brushed against his strong jaw bone. He was wearing a black suite that looked as though it had been made just for him as it hugged him in all the right and delicious places.
Not wanting to come off too bold, he decided to circle the room and dance with a few random men. Normally he would give the men he was dancing with his undivided attention, but the entire time he was dancing, his eyes kept wandering back to the stranger at the bar that had his magic making him feel sinful things. He had hoped that his provocative dancing would draw the stranger's attention, but so far the man hadn't even glanced at him once.
"Want to go to the bathroom with me?"
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Harry turned away from looking at the stranger and gave his attention to the man that he was dancing with...the man that was groping his ass and grinding his very hard, and very interested erection into his stomach. On a normal night he would be all over the man, he too was gorgeous with his blonde short cropped hair and dazzling blue eyes, but tonight all he wanted was the stranger at the bar.
"You're so fucking hot!" The blond grunted, thrusting his hips forward and grinding against the younger man in his arms. "I want to bend you over and fuck that tight little ass of yours."
Harry moaned, his cock almost stirring in interest. Normally he wouldn't turn down such an offer, especially on a cold rainy night like tonight, but he just couldn't get his mind off the stranger at the bar. He also wasn't one to fuck in the bathrooms, at least not if he could help it. He didn't like quick bathroom fucks, or fucks out in the dirty alley, he liked it when they took him home, had sex for an hour or two, then snuggled together for the rest of the night. He liked having the security of a safe place to sleep, human companionship, and food in the morning.
Not many knew it, just a few of the older Gryffindor boys, but he craved human touch like a lost man in the desert craved water. Kind words and a loving touch was something he was denied after his parents death. Hate, abuse and starvation was all he knew at the hands of his aunt and uncle. That was why he ran away the summer after his second year at Hogwarts. Living on the streets of London wasn't easy or fun, but it was a hell of a lot better than living with the Dursleys.
When he first disappeared onto the streets of London, he had kept himself hidden in alleys and abandoned buildings, terrified that Dumbledore would find him and drag him back to Privet Drive, but eventually his hunger and loneliness forced him out from the shadows. He tried getting a job, but finding a job at only twelve had been impossible. That's when he got desperate and delved into the darker side of street life.
He didn't consider himself a prostitute, not once had ever taken money from a man. All he asked for for his services was a bed for the night, a warm body to hold him throughout the night, and food in the morning before leaving. He wasn't asking for much, and since he wasn't asking for money, he didn't consider himself a whore, a slut, a prostitute, or any other disgusting names given to someone who enjoyed human companionship.
Harry was once again brought back to reality when the man dancing with him slipped his hand down the back of his pants and started rubbing the top of his crack. The man was big, easily over six feet tall, and not an ounce of fat on his muscular body. At just five foot three, his head barely reached the man's shoulders.
Grimacing, Harry reluctantly stepped out of the man's arm. "I'm interested, really, but just not right now." He wanted to see if he could get the man at the bar first before settling for the man in front of him.
"Fucking cock tease!" The man growled, reaching out grabbing the boy harshly by his bony shoulders. He wasn't fucking stupid, he knew that the tease that had been fucking around with him was just a minor, where the hell did he get off rejecting him? "You got it hard, now you're responsible for making it soft again."
Wincing, Harry struggled to get out of the man's bruising grip. "Let me go!" He pleaded softly, not wanting to make a scene and get kicked out. This was the only bar that allowed him in, everywhere else kicked him out for being too young.
"I'll let you go after you've finished what you started."
Heart pounding, Harry weakly nodded his head. He didn't want to have sex with the man now, but he also couldn't risk losing his only bar to find hookups. He still had over two months to go before his sixth year of Hogwarts started and that was a long time to be sleeping in a box in an alley with no food.
Harry didn't look around the room as the man led him to the bathroom. Trembling, he looked down at his feet and tried to make himself even smaller than what he was. He could feel anger pouring off the man and he was scared that he was going to hurt him. Hopefully the man was so wound up that he wouldn't last that long.
Harry flinched when the man towering over him yelled. Looking out from the curtain of his shoulder length, midnight black hair, he saw two men scurry out of the bathroom as fast as they could. Hearing the bathroom door slam, he gulped fearfully when the man locked the door.
"You going to be a good boy and do as told?"
Fighting back his tears, Harry nodded his head. "Yes, sir."
"How old are you kid? And don't you fucking lie to me."
"F-Fifteen." Harry stuttered fearfully. He didn't like how the man was looking at him, like he wanted nothing more than to make him hurt.
Groaning, the man started rubbing his cock through his tight jeans. "That's fucking hot, so young and so tight. Come here!"
Taking a deep breath in attempt to calm his racing heart, Harry reluctantly approached the man. He wanted to beg for him not to hurt him, but that never worked on his uncle when he was beating him so he didn't expect to work on this man. If anything, it would probably make it worse.
Tired of waiting for the kid, the man reached out and grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him to him. "First you're going to suck me until I blow a load in your mouth, then I'm going to fuck your ass raw against the sink. You wanted to hang out with the big boys, so I'm going to treat you like a big boy. Now drop to your fucking knees and get sucking!"
Harry cried out in both shock and pain when the man violently backhanded him. Up until now he had been very lucky, all his hookups had treated him kindly. Kindness and love was all he wanted...all he craved. That's the main reason why he went home with men from the bar, he just wanted to be loved. He honestly couldn't care about the sex part, it really did nothing for him, he just wanted to be held and loved.
The force of the hit sent Harry flying into one of the sinks head first. Stunned and disoriented, he slid to the ground right as a bright green light raced past him and slammed into the man. Placing his hand over his bleeding and throbbing forehead, he struggled to get back to his feet, but it was hard, his vision kept blacking out on him.
Gasping, he screamed when he was grabbed by the front of his shirt and slammed into the dirty, tiled wall. Vision clearing a bit, he felt his heart freeze in his chest as ice rushed though his veins. Eyes wide, he stared in disbelief and horror at the man pinning him back against the wall. It was the man from the bar whose magic had called to him despite never seeing his face, but this wasn't just an ordinary muggle though. The man staring down at him with blood red eyes filled with rage and hate, was none other than the Dark Lord Voldemort!
Voldemort felt the boy before he even entered the bar, wearing his too tight jeans, knee high dragon hide boots, and a white shirt that hung off one shoulder showing off a delicate collar bone and the hint of one nipple. His hair, which he was use to seeing short and stuck up in every direction, was brushed neatly and hung in soft waves to just below his shoulders. The boy had probably taken a potion to grow his hair out, it was much nicer than his untamed short hair.
When had Potter gotten so damn sexy?
More importantly, what the hell was fifteen year old Harry Potter doing in a muggle bar dressed like that?
Curious, Voldemort sipped at his muggle whisky while he watched as the bane of his existence fluttered around the dark room, flirting and dancing with men more than twice his age. He should just AK the little shit right now while he had the chance, but he wanted to see what the precious, little, light prince was up to.
Was the boy so ignorant and oblivious to his surroundings that he couldn't feel him, couldn't sense his dark magic? He wasn't even trying to mask his magic, Potter should have been able to taste it before he even entered the bar. Potter had felt his magic on numerous occasions, what the hell was Dumbledore teaching these kids if Potter was completely oblivious to the magic around him.
Sitting back and watching as Potter allowed muggles to fawn all over him and grope him was becoming increasingly more difficult for him. What the hell was the boy playing at? Was he honestly going to go home with an adult muggle man old enough to be his father and allow him to fuck him? Didn't he know that muggles were dirty and carried diseases? Where the hell were the boy's guardians and why the hell were they allowing him to whore himself out?
Controlling his rage was something Voldemort was never good at. Anger he could control, but when it crossed over to rage, that was when he lost it. So when he saw that muggle grab Potter hard enough to leave bruises, and felt the boy's fear through his magic, he knew right then and there that a muggle was going to die that night. And die by his wand!
By the time he set his drink down and stood up, the muggle had already drug Potter to the bathroom and locked the door behind them. The stupid boy was in way over his head and he could easily taste his fear. Was he honestly going to save Potter from his own foolishness? The boy had been asking for it what with the way he had been all over the muggle, even going as far as allowing the man to put his hand down the back of his pants.
Not needing his wand, he lazily flicked his hand and unlocked the door. He had heard what the filthy muggle had said about Potter sucking him and him fucking him, and that had pissed him off, but when he saw him strike the boy...that's when he snapped.
He may not like Harry Potter, he may loath his very existence, and he may have tried to kill him time and time again, but like hell was going to let a disgusting muggle get away with beating and raping him. He was the only one allowed to touch the boy.
It was over too fast as far as he was concerned. He had AK'd the muggle before Potter was even able to regain his footing after being backhanded. He didn't regret killing the filthy muggle, especially not after seeing the blood pouring down Potter's face, he just regretted not getting to torture him for a while for daring to touch what was his. He hated Potter, but Potter was his!
Turning to Potter, he grabbed the too small boy and slammed him against the wall. He was so angry that he could kill him and, despite being consumed with rage, even he could see the humor in that. He had been trying to kill Potter since before he was even born.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Voldemort raged in the trembling boy's bloody face.
Harry opened and closed his mouth, but he just couldn't get his voice to work. What the hell was Voldemort doing in a muggle bar? And oh Merlin! He had been totally crushing hard on the Dark Lord.
Where the hell was his scaly snake face? Where the hell had his nose come from? When the hell did he get so fucking hot?
This wasn't the Dark Lord who had just tried to kill him in the Ministry of Magic two weeks ago. That Dark Lord had been pasty white, covered in scales, no nose, bald, and had fingers that looked more like claws. That Dark Lord had been absolutely terrifying to look at.
The man glaring down at him with hate and disgust in his eyes, who didn't look a day over forty, was absolutely, mouthwatering gorgeous. His face looked as though a sculptor had chiseled it out of the finest materials on the planet to make the most perfect specimen of a man. His wavy, dark brown hair fell softly to his chin, with the right side covering one of his blood red eyes. He was tall, at least six foot three, with muscles that he could see even through the suit he was wearing.
How badly had he bumped his head? Was the man in front of him truly the Dark Lord Voldemort? Did he honestly just mentally call Lord Voldemort mouthwatering?
Growling, Voldemort shook the boy. "Answer me you dimwitted, little fool. What the hell do you think you are doing picking up grown men in a muggle bar?"
"I..." Harry croaked out, not sure what to say. "Are you wearing a glamour?" He blurted out, still not believing his eyes.
Cursing, Voldemort crushed the stupid boy to his chest then apparated them back to his manor. He was so pissed, he just wanted to hurt the reckless boy.
As soon as they appeared in his manor, Voldemort picked the boy up and carried him to the spare bedroom across the hall from his. Kicking the door open, he carelessly dropped Potter onto the bed then pulled out his wand. "Accio Potter's wand!"
Swallowing down the vomit that was burning its way up his throat, Harry allowed his head to fall limply onto the bed, his head spinning madly from his first experience at apparating. Apparating was worse than floo travel and portkeying, it was a hundred times worse. That had been the worst feeling ever, why the hell did Wizarding transportation always make him sick?
"Where the hell is your wand?" Voldemort spat angrily when the boy's wand didn't fly out of his pocket and into his hand.
Head pounding and still spinning, Harry sat up and tried to stand, but his legs gave out on him and he fell back onto the bed. Knowing that he was screwed, he gave up trying to get up and just looked fearfully up at the Dark Lord. "Dumbledore has it." He answered in a small voice.
"Why the hell does Dumbledore have your wand!" Voldemort raged. Why was he even bothering questioning the boy? He should just ring his stupid little neck and be done with him. He finally had the boy where he wanted him, why the hell was he still breathing? He had been fantasizing about killing the brat for years.
Harry was struggling with staying conscious, not only had he been hit in the face, but he had also smashed his head into a porcelain sink severe enough that he could see the blood dripping down face. "He didn't want me using magic. He doesn't trust me."
Voldemort threw his hands up in frustration. "I can't deal with this right now. I can't! I'm too angry, and right now I want nothing more than to kill you." Without looking back, he turned and stormed out of the room, magically locking the door behind him.
Unable to move and in too much pain, Harry gave in to the tears that had been threatening to fall ever since the man at the bar forced him into the bathroom. All he had wanted was love, and now he was Voldemort's prisoner. He would be lucky to see another sunrise.
"Wormtail!" Voldemort roared. Tearing at his coat, he ripped it off and threw it angrily across the room. He was so mad, he couldn't remember the last time he had been this mad. Not mad, furious.
"M-Master." Wormtail whimpered as he scurried into the throne room, bowing at his Lord's feet.
"Crucio!" Voldemort cried.
Wormtail hit the ground screaming and thrashing. He was no stranger to the cruciatus curse, his Lord put him under it at least once a week, but there was so much anger behind the curse this time that the pain was so great that he lost control of his bladder and bowels.
Closing his eyes, Voldemort tilted his head back and savored Wormtail's screams. This is what he wanted to do to Potter, hurt him until he pissed himself. What the hell had that boy been doing in a muggle bar dressed like that? Potter was only fifteen fucking years old, why had he been in a muggle bar looking for men to fuck him?
"May I eat the giant rat man after you're done torturing him?"
Scowling, Voldemort lifted the curse then looked down at his familiar. "Why, my precious Nagini, would you want to eat something so disgusting? Look at him, he's covered in snot, piss and shit."
"You would clean him for me first, yes?" Nagini asked hopefully.
"You can't eat him, Nagini, he'll make you sick. He makes me sick just looking at him" Sneering, Voldemort flicked his wand, wordlessly cleaning the sniveling man at his feet. "Get out of my sight, Wormtail."
"If I can't eat the rat man, then can I eat the hatchling sleeping in the den next to yours?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Voldemort gave his familiar's request some serious thought. That would be one way to dispose of the bane of his existence and make his familiar happy. "Maybe later." He hissed tiredly.
"Are you going to torture the hatchling with your magic stick first? That would make him more tender and juicy for me. I do so love when they're tender and juicy."
"No more talk of the boy." Voldemort growled. "If I decide to let you eat him, I'll make sure to tenderize him for you first. Now leave me, I need quiet."
Shaking her head, Nagini turned and slithered towards the door. "You wouldn't be so grumpy if you found a mate. You need to breed."
"Out!" Voldemort roared.
With a hissy giggle, Nagini shot out of the room, just missing the curse her master threw at her.
Harry scrunched up his face when something wet touched his cheek. Reluctantly opening his eyes, he let out a small squeak of surprise when he found a house else almost nose to nose with him.
"Mintzy thinks you should not be sleeping, no." The house elf squeaked in a high pitched voice. "You have a very bad bumpy on your head and blood all over your face. Mintzy is thinking it's bad to sleep with bad bumpy, you might not ever wake up again."
"At least when I'm sleeping I can't feel this killer migraine." Harry moaned pathetically. Carefully rolling onto his back, he squeezing his eyes shut as pain lanced through his skull. He didn't know how long he had been asleep for, but he wished that he could go back to sleep and never wake up again. He didn't know where Voldemort was, but he was sure that the torturing would start soon. He was probably waiting for all his Death Eaters to show up so he could make his torture and death some grand event.
"Mintzy thinks you is needing a pain potion, but Mintzy is not waking Master. No she is not."
"Don't worry, Mintzy, I have had worse." Harry groaned. His head was pounding so bad that he couldn't even open his eyes when the house elf resumed mopping the blood off his face. He knew that he should be trying to plan an escape, but right now he just didn't have the strength. Hell, he didn't even have the desire. He was ready for this to be over.
Ever since he entered the Wizarding World, his life had pretty much revolved around Voldemort and his attempts at killing him. He was done fighting, he just wanted it over. Voldemort could have the Wizarding World. He just wanted to sleep and never wake up again.
"This bumpy is very bad." Mintzy fretted as he she grabbed her large ears and started wringing them in her hands. "You is needing a healer."
"M'fine." Harry slurred sleepily. "Just need sleep."
"Oh, you is needing healing." Mintzy cried as he bounced on her feet. "Mintzy is not wanting to wake Master, but Mintzy is scared for boy with bad bumpy."
Harry could hear the elf saying something in his ear, but he didn't have the strength to fight the darkness approaching him. He knew that the darkness would bring sweet relief from his pain, so he welcomed it with open arms.
Voldemort glowered down at the cowering house elf as she handed him the requested potion vials. Why the hell was he losing precious sleep patching Potter up when he planned on killing him in a few short hours anyway? He had fantasized killing the brat for over fifteen years, yet here he was healing his split skull and concussion at four in the morning.
"Mintzy is sorry for waking you, Master Voldy, but Mintzy was scared that the boy was dying."
"Oh he will be dying." Voldemort grumbled as he spelled the pain potion into Potter. "I'm finally going to rid myself of the little pest who has made my life a living hell for the past fifteen years."
Mintzy looked sadly down at the small boy, her large brown eyes tearing up. "But boy with bad bumpy was so nice to Mintzy. I don't want to see him dead."
"Well if you like, I can kill both you and Potter. How does that sound?" Voldemort snapped angrily at his elf.
"Not good at all, master, Voldy." Mintzy cried. "Who will be looking after you if Mintzy is dead?"
"Maybe I'll just AK myself." Voldemort hissed under his breath. No more teenagers to worry about vanquishing him, no more smart mouth snakes that wanted him to get laid, no more incompetent minions, and no more mothering stupid house elves. Why again did he want to live forever? From where he was standing, death was looking pretty damn tempting.
Voldemort was just finishing up healing Potter's head and was anxious to get a few more hours of sleep in, when his eyes were drawn to the teen's exposed shoulder where he could just make out the top of what looked to be a nasty bruise on his upper arm. Snarling, he yanked the shirt down, tearing it at the neck.
"Fucking muggles!" Voldemort roared when he spotted two large and angry looking bruises on Potter's upper arms. "I'm going to kill them all."
"Poor boy with bad bumpy, Mintzy thinks those bruises will hurt him very bad when he wakes."
"I thought house elves weren't supposed to be seen or heard!" Voldemort spat, glaring at the small creature that only came to his knees. Mintzy was very tiny, even for a house elf. He didn't know what came over him the day he purchased her, there were plenty of house elves that looked stronger and more capable than her, but for some reason he had been drawn to her and felt sorry for her. She had been slowly dying for three years waiting for a master to claim her.
"But Mintzy likes to talk." Mintzy pouted. "And she likes her Master Voldy. Please don't hit yourself with bad green light."
Voldemort rolled his eyes. Maybe that's why he picked Mintzy that day, even though she was terrified of him, she still spoke her mind. Most wizards would punish her harshly for doing so, but he found it kind of refreshing...most of the times. Right now he was tired and angry and he didn't think Wormtail, his go to punching bag, could survive another curse.
"Watch the foolish boy, elf, but do not wake me unless he's dying." Voldemort barked.
"Master Voldy, are you still going to be killing him?"
"Oh yes, elf, and I'm going to take great pleasure in doing so. Prepare a feast for this evening for all my followers, tonight we will celebrate the death of Harry Potter."
Mintzy' large eyes filled with tears. "Mintzy will do as you say, Master Voldy, but Mintzy really doesn't want the boy to die."
"Well Master Voldy doesn't care what Mintzy, a stupid little house elf, wants." Voldemort mocked. He must really be tired if he was allowing his elf to not only talk back to him, but to also be talking back to her. He was arguing with a damn house elf! "Now go plan my celebration before I curse your damn ears off!"
"Mean Master Voldy!" Mintzy cried loudly before popping away.
"Of course I'm mean!" Voldemort bellowed to the empty air. "I'm the Dark Lord!"