Title: Who Wants to Be the Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Die?
Author: Iskjif
Beta: None as of yet… I would love one though…
Pairings: Voldemort/Harry (eventually)
Warnings: This will eventually have slash my dears, as in yaoi, as in man-on-man action! If any of that strikes you as wrong, well then this fic is NOT FOR YOU! Flames will be laughed at, shown to my friends, and treated as prized possessions. The other warnings are: violence (possibly graphic but it depends on my mood ) and cursing (and I'm not talking about crucio…) … at least that's it for now…
Summary: Eventual HPLV. After the events of OotP Harry is apathetic and disillusioned. The Dursley's escalating abuse only serves to alienate him further. When Voldemort's followers come for him, the idea of torture isn't too unpleasant when it's at the hands of those who don't pretend to care.

Disclaimer: Now pay attention because I'm only gonna say this once. I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, Voldie would rule the world, Dumbles' only prestige would be his being Voldie personal scratching post, and Harry would be Voldie's willing sex slave… as it is none of that is part of cannon… and anyways if you did sue me, the most you could get would be 20 bucks and maybe my Sesshoumaru plushie…

A/N: I've wanted to write a Harry Potter fic for a long time now but I haven't ever had the inspiration… and without inspiration anything I would have written would have been disgustingly unoriginal… Lucky me, I got attacked by a rabid plot bunny and now it won't let me sleep! Hehe anyways… I hope you enjoy my ficcie! Please review… I have no self-esteem…


Voldemort was irritated.

He was beyond irritated.

The Dark Lord sat pensively in the Grand Audience Hall. Death Eaters were milling around discussing projects and socializing, but the gathering had a rather strained quality to it. The assembled were all on edge and many felt as they did when they had failed to perform their duties. Their Lord's displeasure brought a thick bitterness to the air.

Voldemort continued to brood as his followers scurried around, obviously wary of his foul mood. Had his irritation been less pressing, he probably would have found great amusement in the reactions of his Death Eaters. Most of them were likely thinking of every failure of the past month and praying that they had not been the one to arouse their Lord's ire. But to those of his Inner Circle, the cause of his irritation was very clear.

For weeks Voldemort had been kept up at night by that bloody Potter boy. It wasn't that the boy was happy, no far from it. That was the worst part. The boy was bloody miserable and it had been disrupting Voldemort's rest. He should have been overjoyed to know that his bitter foe was hopelessly miserable, but he wasn't.

Voldemort scratched angrily at his arm. It was damned- well it was- irritating!

Bloody living hell! He was so distressed that he was sputtering in his own thoughts! He had to find some way to end his torture but despite his discomfort, he was filled with indecision. Of course he could just go and kill the boy… but he had failed enough times in the past that he was reluctant to make another attempt. His ego was still too sore. He could always go and kill the rest of the boy's family, as they seemed to be causing most of Potter's problems. But no, that probably wouldn't work either. He speculated that the boy would most likely continue to angst about where he would live and given Potter's hero-complex he'd probably mourn his abusive relatives.

The Dark Lord's brooding was interrupted as one of his Death Eaters approached. Voldemort immediately identified him as Severus. The man always reeked of potions and Voldemort's sensitive nose could always smell the Potions Master from miles away.

"My Lord?" The man asked tentatively, concern coloring his words.

It was then that Voldemort realized that he had continued to scratch at his arm until this moment. He cursed as he began to rub the abused arm soothingly. The angry red marks stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. Several months ago he had had Severus brew a potion to give him back his youthful beauty. The only remnants of his resurrection were his scarlet eyes. Though he had at first thought that his years of being a spirit had killed it, his vanity had not allowed him to stay in the decrepit body that his resurrection had given him. He remembered the night that he had conducted his first meeting after he was restored very clearly. Every appreciative look had been like salve for his wounded ego.

Voldemort turned his attention back to Severus and smirked slightly, seeing the man fidget under his gaze. He watched the man's discomfort in amusement. It never ceased to amuse him that just his attention could cause this normally stoic man to become so uncomfortable. He randomly thought of how satisfying it would be to have Potter there in Severus' place, squirming under his scrutiny… he started in surprise… that was it! A plan began forming in his head.

"Severus," he purred, "Would Lucius happen to be here?" Severus nodded anxiously. There were a few anxious whispers and then Lucius rushed over in a strangely dignified way.

"Here my Lord" he whispered kneeling gracefully.

Voldemort allowed both men to stew for a few moments, thoroughly enjoying their obvious anxiety. After a few minutes he felt that his dramatic peak had been reached and spoke.

"I have a project for you two."

The Dark Lord grinned maliciously.


A/N: Yay! I finally finished the first chappie! Well I hope that it turned out all right… I'd feel better if I had a Beta… but oh well! Anyways please tell me what you think! I'd love some feedback and criticism would be great. Do you guys think I should continue this?