Okay, believe it or not, this is the last chapter. So I hope you've all enjoyed the story thus far and will enjoy this chapter as well.
Harry knew he was in for it when his prank went wrong, especially since he'd really wanted to piss Bellatrix off. Voldemort had grabbed him by his hair, dismissed his followers and then pulled him down the hall by his hair. He raved in Parsel tongue, man handling Harry in his anger until he threw the boy through a pair of double doors that led to his person rooms. He slammed the doors angrily before he turned on the boy, "Are you going to fight me after giving in for so long?"
There was silence and all Harry did was glare at him, his eyes a deep emerald green almost putting the green of Avada Kedavra from Voldemort's mind.
"I'm going to show you something, and Ill bask in your shame when you realize you actually want what you're fighting so hard to rid yourself of."
"There's nothing you could do to change me back to the disgusting being I was." Harry snarled, thrashing against the bindings Voldemort had on his hands and legs now that he'd let go of his hair.
"I indulge far too often when Gryffindors put up challenges like that. Imperio!"
Harry's body took on a tranquil state and he could feel Voldemort's mind slide across his own like snakes on skin.
"You've broken this once before, Harry, let us see where your will really lies."
Harry stood in the trance, his mind screaming for escape.
"I can do this, it's just Imperio, and I've done it before."
"Come here," Voldemort sat back on a lavish forest green, almost black, couch. "Come on to my lap."
Harry tried to grit his teeth as he felt his body begin to move towards the other man.
"Aw, tell me how you really feel, Harry."
"I need you." Harry heard. The mortification took over and he was sure he was blushing with those words. Voldemort looked just as shocked as him though, so he felt a small flare of trump at putting the man off center.
"Indeed," Voldemort murmured, pleasure flaring on his countenance before his face closed off. Harry knew the man too well now though. He could see the almost giddy pleasure that had Voldemort anxious.
Harry decided that he needed to focus elsewhere as he sat on the man's lap.
They were in the man's study, or something. Book cases lined the walls. There were huge windows that lit up the room beautifully; the top of them had stained glass of different Slytherin emblems. It was very lavish...Very personal. Harry felt odd, he'd never been here. It also inspired dread in him. He was in trouble, yet he was being rewarded, sort of.
The warmth beneath him sparked a fire in his blood as he followed the command he was given.
"Look at me."
Harry did, unwilling but automatically.
"Why did you release them, Harry?"
Harry grimaced, it was like veritaserum but worse, he couldn't break the imperio; on some level, he wanted to tell the man.
"He was my friend...you had no right...I can't keep choosing between people I..." Love.
He broke the Imperio with the absolute refusal to admit that he loved the man. That he was...loving the man, let alone letting him know, who had been cruel to him.
He sagged against the older man as it broke, his energy gone with his will.
"Please, don't." he almost begged, his face buried in the man's shoulder.
Harry froze though, his body going stiff, as arms enfolded him.
"What do you want?"
Harry would late hope that it had been remnants of imperio that made him confess what he did, but as he answered, he knew it was an unfounded hope.
"For you to need me, as badly as I need you." Harry felt the arms tighten around him, and as he felt his consciousness slip, he knew that it had been a dream and that soon he'd wake up in a horrible reality.
Harry woke up in bed and knew that his dream had ended. He knew that he would have to deal with the struggle again and the hate. He wished he could keep his eyes closed forever; ignore the hand trailing across his back as Voldemort walked by. He wished he could pretend to be asleep and for Voldemort to actually believe it.
The first thing that he realized was it wasn't his bed. The second that it wasn't his room. The third being that Voldemort was in baggy silver silk pants and a matching robe that looked flimsy compared to normal everyday robes; the man was in his pajamas.
As many times as they'd…done things together, Harry couldn't remember a time when the man looked so bare and basic...quite literally. The man had a toned physique. He didn't look like a fighter, he looked sinister. He looked like a man who would take what he wanted without remorse, and Harry supposed that's how he was anyway. Voldemort looked like a grown man who'd been pushed to his limits in order to succeed. Harry looked like a boy, an adolescent. He felt dread in his stomach but looked at the man; nonetheless, he felt the heat in his face.
The older man tilted his head and stretched his arms far above his head. "What shall we do today, Harry?"
The young man froze for a minute. It was odd. So very odd to hear his name from the man's lips and not the usual horrible emotion and tone that came with it.
"Sleep…I don't ever want to wake up from this dream."