Title: Stronger

Title: Stronger

Author: Jane Delight

Warnings: Dubious-con, slash, age gap

Rating:

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise does not belong to me.

Summary: Dark one-shot. Disturbing. Dubious-con. Harry knows he needs to become stronger in order to defeat Voldemort. The headmaster knows how to make him so.

A/N: Don't like, don't read. I'm telling you right now that it won't be everyone's cup of tea. No reviews telling me how sick I am, please ) (I know that already ;))

Stronger

Prologue

You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Yes, that is correct, Harry. Do sit down. Lemon Drop?"

"No thank you, Sir."

"Now, Harry. You are undoubtedly aware that Voldemort is gaining power and influence. I think it is time for you to receive extra training, as you are now aware of the prophecy and its content. I realise we've had our… differences in the past, but I don't believe anyone else has what it takes to be training you. Yes, yes, Professor Snape is indeed talented in many areas, however, I fear he might, perhaps, – just between you and me – get just slightly carried away with the task I had in mind. We need to increase your pain tolerance..."

StrongerStrongerStrongerStrongerStronger

Whoever invented Lemon Drops should receive some kind of award. Their sweet, fruity flavour. Simply invigorating. And invigoration is what an old man needs. Invigoration. Stimulation - mentally, psychologically and physically. And this little assignment has covered all of those areas.

Soon he'll come again. He was always on time these days. It had taken quite some time and effort to get the boy disciplined, but what Albus wants, Albus gets. That was a rule he had decided on very early in his life.

He prided himself in being rather intelligent – more intelligent than anyone else he knew, dare he say it. It made everything so much easier. Manipulating people was such fun - watching them wiggle and squirm against their invisible bonds placed upon them by him. Watching them walk straight into his traps. Keeping them dancing for him like puppets on strings. That was invigorating.

However, he had to say it, his most recent plan – it was barely a year old – was the best he had ever thought of – and that was saying a lot.

Young Harry had swallowed his ploy marvellously – just as expected. His Gryffindor qualities could be counted on when it came to 'protecting his friends' and 'saving the world'. That being said, the prophecy was a very close second on his list of 'Greatest Ever Plans'.

At first, the boy had been difficult to mould. He had to be very careful – one false move and the tentative bond between the two could have been irrevocably damaged. However, all had gone well. And now… now the boy was his. His ultimate puppet. Everything he thought, did, liked and disliked – it was all determined by the esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And no one knew. No one noticed. Not even the boy himself. Everything he asked of the boy, he did. This was, as he had told the boy, crucial to his plan. Because if he did not trust the headmaster to do what was best for him, then they could never work together to defeat Voldemort, could they?

A soft rapping at the door sounded. Albus smiled. It was time for the final test.

"Come in Harry, my boy." He didn't hide the smile in his voice.

The door opened and the boy stepped into the room. Albus rose from his chair.

"Come here, my boy."

The boy obliged and when he was but a few steps away, he bowed low before his master.

Albus stroked the boy's cheek. He did not flinch or react in any other way. This was good.

"Now, as I announced last time, today will be the final test of your loyalty to me. It is vital I know whether you trust me fully before we face Voldemort. Are you ready?"

Another bow.

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Now strip."

This was nothing new to the boy. It had been introduced some months ago and he should now be perfectly comfortable naked in the presence of the headmaster.

Another part of their training was pain tolerance. Trust was important, yes, but pain tolerance even more so. The scars and bruises on the boy's back and behind were evidence of their training.

"Good boy. Now bend over the desk."

This too wasn't new. What would come next was though.

Albus removed his clothes quickly and at the sight of the boy's bare behind bend over his desk, he felt his cock harden.

He moved closer to the boy and grabbed his firm buttocks and pushed them apart. If this part of his plan went wrong, then all would be lost. He was, however, confident it would not.

Without any forewarning, he shoved his cock into the boy's opening. He felt how the boy suppressed a scream, like he had been taught. This was good. He roughly shoved himself deeper into the boy – over and over again. The boy didn't move. Didn't fight. Didn't scream. It was perfect.

His speed increased and once he had come he pulled himself out of the boy.

"Turn around and face me."

Straightening, the boy did as he was told. Glassy eyes stared at Albus, not really seeing him.

"Did it hurt?"

"No." The voice was monotonous.

"Did you enjoy it as I enjoyed it?"

"Yes."

"Would you be glad to repeat the experience?"

"Yes Sir."

Albus smiled. Repeat it, they would.