Pairings: HP/DM HP/TR
Voldemort walked quietly to his dining area and sat down at his dining table. He touched his hair, loving the feeling of it flowing through his fingers.
A house elf appeared next to him and he looked down, sneering at it for interrupting him. The elf looked up at his master, gasping at his appearance. "Master is wanting his lunch now?" he asked, pulling himself together quickly. Voldemort nodded and the house elf disappeared.
He shifted his thoughts to Harry. How small he was, even at 16. He was so thin, and not much taller than he was when they last met in the Riddle graveyard. Draco, on the other hand, had grown considerably, reaching almost 6'3, with a slim, muscular build. He was certain they were practically the same size before the tournament.
The house elf returned promptly and placed a plate in front of Voldemort, along with a goblet of red wine next to the plate. Voldemort waved him away and began to eat. His thoughts kept returning to Harry's sadness, and how he and some muggles had caused The-Boy-Who-Lived to break so effectively. Maybe he could have handled one of them. Maybe they treated him like that since he was brought to them, at the age of one.
He thought of himself, trapped in that filthy orphanage, and all the horrid things that had happened to him there. It nearly broke him, but in some way, made him stronger, much stronger than he ever thought to become. Of course, he didn't have his own personal Voldemort trying to kill him. He had made the difference after all.
As he chewed on his steamed vegetables, his thoughts went back to himself. How handsome he had become again, and how much he missed the mirror in his chambers. He was eagerly waiting to see his own body without clothing now. He wondered if he could have sex again. it had been impossible in his older
form, it simply would not work. He reached down to his crotch, kneading the material over it. Yes, he could have sex again, this was going to be a very good day.
Harry ran the warm water, filling the tub, as he began to remove his clothes. The back of his shirt seemed to fuse with the blood that had seeped from his wounds. He yelped as it peeled his scabs from his back. Sighing, he looked out into his room, seeing Wormtail finishing the bedding.
Peter looked up at Harry and narrowed his eyes. "Get in the bath, boy!" he shouted.
Harry swallowed his hate and anger, and calmed himself before he spoke. "I can't get my shirt off." he said softly.
Wormtail bit his lip and looked from Harry to his silver hand, then back to Harry. "Why can't you get your shirt off? it's a simple thing, really." he mentally clapped himself on the back for the funny retort.
Harry rolled his eyes and narrowed his brow. "I can't get it off, it's stuck to my back. Could you please just help me get it off?"
Wormtail fidgeted a bit, before making up his mind to help the boy. He supposed his master wouldn't mind if he'd helped him, he said he couldn't see him after today, but it was still today.
When he looked into Harry's eyes, he hardly noticed James any longer, the resemblance to his father now only showing up in the unruly hair, and high cheekbones. Without his glasses, his face looked softer, feminine. "You look like Lily. So much like her." he said without thinking.
Harry fumed. "Don't you ever talk about my mother. You fucking traitor, I hate you!" He launched himself at Wormtail with whatever strength he had reserved and tackled the rat to the ground.
Wormtail panicked but easily subdued his attacker. He gathered Harry's wrists up in his silver hand, and pulled them both up off the floor.
Harry was livid, shouting insults and threats at the rat. Peter clamped his hand over Harry's mouth and dragged him into the lavatory. He slammed the door behind him with his foot and begged Harry to silence himself. "Be quiet, boy! You need to be quiet! Do you want the death eaters at the door to hear you?
Harry struggled against the strong grip with everything he had. Peter tipped Harry's head back onto his shoulder and whispered into his ear. "Keep it down, and I'll let you go. I promise I won't hurt you."
Harry closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting on Sirius. How badly he wanted to kill the rat and that he had stopped him. If only he had allowed him to kill Peter, Voldemort would never be in his new form.
Peter took the sudden relaxed posture of his captive as an agreement and released his hands from the boy.
Harry pulled away immediately and swung around, facing the man who betrayed his parents. "I don't need your help, you filthy bastard, get out of here now!"
Wormtail, betrayed by the boy's shouting, scowled and lunged forward, slapping the boy so hard, he fell back into the tub of water.
Harry fell back, his head connecting with the bathtub, feeling his skull bounce off the side and his body fall into the water. His body slipped fully into the tub as the blood from his new head wound began to turn the water red. Wormtail panicked once again, and ran to the tub, pulling the boy up out of the water. Harry's head lolled around as his eyes tried to focus on the shape in front of him.
Voldemort sipped his wine and smiled. Suddenly, one of the guards at Harry's door rushed in and told him there was a disturbance in the room. "Why didn't you see what was happening, you fool?" he shouted, getting out of his chair. He rushed down to the dungeon as fast as he could. 'If Harry was trying to escape, or hurt himself, or if...' His thoughts traveled to Wormtail. The man who betrayed Harry's parents. He ran faster.
Wormtail lifted Harry up into a sitting position in the tub, and began to remove his shirt. He saw the scabs and bruises covering his back and groaned. He saw the unmarked chest, in soft, pale tissue, covering slight muscles. He licked his lips at the sight. The boy was simply gorgeous, he couldn't deny it.
He tipped his head up to look at him again. "So pretty, you are." he said as he lowered his own face to the boy's.
Harry struggled as best he could away from the rat, but the knock to the head has left him feeling like he was made of lead. Wormtail pulled in close running his thick tongue over the boy‘s lips.
He clenched his teeth and hissed back at the man, praying it would stop. He screamed, kicking the water with his legs, but it was no use.
"Open the door, fool!" Voldemort shouted as he got to the door. The death eater bowed, thrusting the door open for him. He scanned the room. The door of the restroom was closed, and no signs of Wormtail or Harry. He ran to the lavatory and quietly opened the door.
Seeing Wormtail hunched over Harry, holding him against the bath wall, licking the boy's face as the boy struggled in his grasp infuriated him. "Wormtail!" He shouted, causing the rat to jump up, dropping his hold on the boy. Harry's head fell back into the water and he couldn't find the strength to pull himself up.
Wormtail cowered in his master's presence, begging for forgiveness. Harry struggled to grasp the sides of the bathtub, but his grip was too slippery. He flailed his arms as best he could, holding his breath, feeling his lungs burning for oxygen. The bathtub was so large, even lifting his head up, he couldn't surface.
Voldemort saw the tiny hands desperately trying to grasp at anything to pull himself out of the water. He reached over and pulled the boy up, seeing the tub filling with blood.
He turned back to Wormtail, who was now on his knees, pleading for his pathetic life. "How dare you touch what is mine. I told you to stay away from him, but you couldn't help yourself, could you?"
Voldemort looked at the guards, now standing at the restroom door. "Take him to a cell, I'll deal with him later. And contact Severus, tell him to bring healing potions."
The guards nodded and pulled Peter to his feet. He struggled in their arms as he screamed for mercy. "Master please! Master I didn't mean it! The boy attacked me first!" He turned his attention to the boy, gasping for air, coughing out the tub water.
Voldemort looked down at Harry. He was struggling with consciousness and mumbling incoherently now. He lifted the boy out of the tub and noticed even soaking wet, the boy weighed almost nothing in his arms. He laid the boy on the floor and began removing the remainder of the wet clothing. He pulled off Harry's shoes and socks, rubbing the small feet in his hands. His skin was so soft and pale, yet wet and cold, and He shivered from the touch.
Voldemort reached for the belt holding the boy’s pants up, and Harry gasped loudly. Voldemort swatted the small hands trying to protect himself and chuckled. "I'm not going to hurt you, boy! You're freezing in these clothes. I'm going to have a house elf run you another bath. Can't very well bathe in your giant pants, now can you?"
Harry bit his lip and put his hands down to his sides on the floor, sighing softly and closing his eyes. The man undressed him slowly, warming the skin under his fingertips as he worked. He paused his hand over the boy’s abdomen then, feeling the light muscled stomach with his palm. It was soothing and warm, relaxing them both.
He glanced up at Voldemort under his eyelashes as the man rubbed small circles over his abdomen.
"What?" asked The Dark Lord.
"No one's ever done that to me before, that's all." Harry replied. Voldemort nodded. No one had ever rubbed his belly before, either.
The house elf walked up to Voldemort and bowed his head low. "Master, the bath is ready for the boy."
Voldemort pulled Harry up and carried him to the tub. "Gilly, you may leave, but I would like you to inform Severus to come to this room when he arrives."
The house elf bowed again. "Yes, master, me is telling Mr. Severus as soon as he gets here." and disappeared.