This is the second draft of this fic, but the first on FF. It doesn't follow canon past PoA, but I don't think anyone will blame me.
Warnings: This story includes scenes of torture, rape, hermaphrodite characters, semi-mpreg (see previous), slavery and homosexual content. If any of these disturb you or if you are under age, please read no further. If you do I hold no liability for what you may read.
I don't own Harry Potter nor hold any copyright to it.
Chapter one: Harry's New Master
Harry was curled in a small, naked ball in the corner of his cell; trembling from cold and pain. The Death Eaters who had been torturing him had tossed him into here after bouts of the Cruciatus, ensuring he was weak and vulnerable from the tremors running through his nerves. Normally Harry would relish the reprieve from pain, but now he would have preferred it. While in pain, he knew to expect more pain. Now he knew nothing of what to expect, and the remains of the cell's previous occupant still chained to the wall filled his mind with only the worst of possibilities. He would rather be facing the Dark Lord, or more torture, than this waiting and fear – which was probably why the Death Eaters did it. What better way to break a victim than through his own imagination?
His imagination, after a full day trapped; cold, hungry and in agony; had been given enough time to fully torment him. His fears of being left to the same fate as the man on the wall were little in comparison to his fears for his friends. He was certain that they had escaped the attack on the platform, but what if they had been caught once he had been stupefied? What if they were even now suffering in another area of this maze of a castle? His fears, pain-induced hallucinations of their screams and suffering, were enough to drive him to the brink of sanity as it was. Waiting for what would happen to him as well was threatening to tip him over the edge.
Finally, after leaving Harry alone long enough that dehydration and pain were battling between killing him or driving him insane, Voldemort descended on his cell, two of his Death Eaters looming in the near-darkness behind him, appearing more as the spectral Dementor guards than real men. His eyes glimmered in a face too pale to be natural, sweeping over Harry's body with a superior, vicious pleasure. He motioned silently to the guards behind him, sweeping to the side of the door – blending in if it weren't for his pale face and blood-eyes. The Death Eaters hauled him up from his armpits, more like a recalcitrant cat or small child, and carried him through the cells and up the stairs. He was finally deposited on the tiled floor of a bathroom, the Death Eaters moving out of his line of sight. He heard running water, tilting his head weakly to find the source of the glorious sound. He whimpered in pain as the movement jarred his nerves, and settled back on the floor, drifting through consciousness. Soon, gentle hands picked him up and laid him in a bathtub. His body sank weakly into the water, mouth opening as his dry throat cried out weakly for the water so close. A hand caught him under the chin and tugged him carefully back up. He struggled weakly and whined for the water, the unknown hand holding him in place. The press of cold glass to his lips soothed his writhing, and cool water flowed into his mouth. He swallowed eagerly, the hand holding back the flow often enough to prevent him choking. The water was pulled away before he was ready, but the little amount he'd received was enough for him.
The other Death Eater began washing his body as the one holding his chin set in on his hair. He was massaging the soap in gently, carefully avoiding pulling or hurting him, while the one washing his body smoothed over his legs. He felt a tingling sensation, almost painfully stinging him, and whimpered again. The hand in his hair stroked almost soothingly, and the one on his legs washed again, smoothing the tingles away. As the hand in his hair washed off the last of the bubbles and moved onto his chest, the ones on his legs moved higher, making him stiffen up in fear as they slid closer to intimate areas. The Death Eaters had gained a vicious reputation for rape, and the idea of being violated like this, here, turned his stomach. But neither man touched him in any way that would seem violating, even when they were washing tingling circles in his groin and around his anus, each touch was clinical.
When they finished with him, they both pulled away and swept silently out of the room, leaving him alone and vulnerable with Voldemort. He scanned Harry with the same twisted, superior look as before, smirking vindictively. "You have a short while to yourself, before my Death Eaters will return. Enjoy it; it will be your last."
He followed his Death Eaters out, cutting a far more striking figure with his snake-like body and shock-white head, and the threats rung in his wake far more than they should have. Harry sunk deeper in the bath, hiding his body from sight. He enjoyed the luxurious, soothing lap of water against his skin, gentling raw nerves and warming chilled skin. He was rubbing his arms, enjoying heating himself up, when he realised what had felt different. What the stinging tingles were before. His hair had been stripped away, every single hair on his arms and, on further exploration, his legs, groin, underarms and anus. He tightened in on himself as he wondered what this act of vanity may signal.
Before long, certainly before he had time to torture himself wondering what they were going to do to him next, the Death Eaters returned, each carrying a small bundle. One of them went to the vanity with his bundle, while the other began gently helping Harry out of the bath. Tense now with fear, Harry pulled angrily away from him, but clung on again as his tormented legs collapsed underneath him. The Death Eater gave a low chuckle and supported him the rest of the way, before setting about towelling him dry. The other Death Eater, meanwhile, had finished laying out Harry's clothes and had taken up a comb against his hair.
In an effort to distract himself from what they were doing to him and what they had planned next, he turned his gaze to the clothes on the vanity. He paled fearfully, wobbling faintly in their hold. There was just the one item, a dark green tunic. It looked about the same length as Dudley's cast-off shirts, the ones that barely reached Harry's knees, but unlike Dudley's clothes, this appeared to have been sized for Harry. The only thing that would hold it up was two silver ties, tenuous protection at best. With no underwear beneath, one need only slip the ties and Harry would be exposed for all to see.
Abandoning his hair, as most did, one of the Death Eaters moved to the silky tunic and picked it up. The one towelling him slid to his knees, towelling Harry's legs and feet – Harry's hands on his shoulders the only thing supporting him – while the tunic was dropped over his head and into place. The ties were knotted in a loose bow and both of then stepped away, leaving Harry swaying on the spot in only this limited covering.
A third Death Eater swept into the room, something strangely familiar about him, and handed a vial to Harry. Silently and swiftly he left again, looking at none of the men around him. Harry held the vial blankly in one hand until, with an impatient huff, one of the Death Eaters told him to drink it. Wary of the wands in their hands and the Death Eater's propensity to curse people who disobey them, he swallowed the contents of the vial. His fear of the potion's properties proved founded, and he collapsed to his knees in agony as cramps began in his abdomen and a tearing pain ripped through his lower half.
He was lifted by surprisingly gentle hands, the slightest shift in movement sending him convulsing in agony, and placed on a comfortable couch that had been transfigured from a dry towel. The Death Eaters remained with him until the seizures lessened and the pain eventually subsided, before he was lifted onto his feet. Steadying hands held him up as his body initially collapsed under the aftershocks of pain still coursing across his nerves. He was grateful none-the-less, as this time when he was lead out he was taken into a circle of Death Eaters. He was glad for the smallest of victories that being capable of walking into that circle under his own power gave him.
Harry studied the figures around him as Voldemort's speech commenced, looking for any weaknesses. A Wand would be useful, but the Death Eater robes must come with a hidden Wand compartment or the likes, because he couldn't even see the smallest sliver of wood on any in the circle. Neither could he see any sign of aid from these people; not even Snape, who he was now sure had been the one to give him the potion.
He returned his attention sharply to Voldemort when he called a Death Eater forward, introducing him to the Death Eaters as the newest recruit to the inner circle. He went unnamed, but they were all respectably wary. A new recruit immediately granted a position in the inner circle had either done something to prove himself – something very big – or he came from a powerful bloodline and background. Anyone else would have languished with most of them in the outer circle; Marked, but not trusted.
"Although he has taken his place with his Brothers in my inner circle, my newest faithful must prove himself and complete one task for me in order to remain there. Potter here has shown himself to be a most difficult adversary, capable of surviving a great deal; rather like a cockroach, don't you think my Pet?" He addressed the new Death Eater, who bowed his head with a soft chuckle and a murmured affirmative. "However, this has also proven that he has a great innate power. If only he had been tutored in our ways since his birth, he surely would have been worthy to be by my side. As it is, Mr Potter is, unfortunately, lost to us. Nevertheless, it would be a waste to kill him, and lose all that power. My new Pet's task therefore is a simple and likely enjoyable one. Mr Potter may not come to be by my side, but his talent could be passed to one who would come to me. Mr Potter has been given a powerful transformative draught, which has rapidly grown within his body a womb and a birth canal. He is now in all ways a hermaphrodite. Within the year, I would have from his body a child to be raised in our ways, so when he or she comes of age they will stand willingly by my side as my consort. If, within the year, I have this child, my new faithful will become a permanent member of my inner circle. If not, he will become a permanent occupant of his family's grave."
Harry felt the world tilt wildly under his feet as he swayed, close to passing out. His mind could barely comprehend what was being said, his emotions twisting violently between enraged, horrified, terrified and humiliated. The idea that this unknown Death Eater was being ordered to rape him, was being ordered to impregnate him; the idea of his child standing by Voldemort's side, in Voldemort's bed; the thought of the birth canal, the womb, and the implications of that; it all became too much for Harry to cope with, and he felt his mind thankfully go blank. He was still conscious, still aware as the Death Eater approached him and fastened a collar around his neck. He registered the tightening inside that indicated his magic had been dampened. He could see the Death Eaters surrounding him; some laughing, some obviously jealous. He knew it all, but he felt nothing except a strange apathy.
The apathy shattered like fragile glass as the Death Eater raised his Mask to seal the bargain. A single tear fell from Harry's eye, to be caught up in the kiss that Draco Malfoy pressed onto his lips.