Disclaimer: All rights go to who owns what. No profit made here! I'd also like to apologize to JR, to what I have done to her poor protagonist.

Rating: Mature! Smut! Angsty, but mostly smut. The rape and sub-dom-ness &etc. makes this well above: nc-17.

Pairings: Voldemort-Tom/Harry. Um, possibly some Harry/Other. I'm thinking, a bit of Lucius?

Summary: This can be seen as PWP, a lot of the plot has been conveniently laid out for the sort of pairing I wanted to create.. However, the story goes thus:

Chapter 1.

Harry had been a prisoner for two weeks already when Voldemort finally came to him. The billowing man strode towards the room he was being kept in, the ache in Harry's scar growing in harshness the closer the Dark Lord got. The pain was almost tangible in strength when finally the figure opened the heavy oak door and appeared in front of the, now dejected, golden boy.

Harry started slightly, shocked to see that Voldemort had returned his visage to his previous, younger and more human looks. Fear also bubbled inside him, this was it, his luck had finally run out and he was about to meet his end.

"My oh my Harry, your reputation is intact, if I do say myself. Not many would fare so well in isolation; especially in climates such as this.."

Starved from conversation Harry had almost answered the man, blurting out that he had never felt alone in his life thanks to Voldemort's threat.. And an odd secluded presence lurking in his mind thanks to his nightmares, it was well known that Voldemort has held him prisoner in his own mind, long before holding him in this jail.

The man reached forward and gripped Harry's jaw, the pain flooding inwards from the simple touch almost made Harry scream with agony. Voldemort bent his head with intrigued, allowing his thumb to graze over the boy's pinching lips, before raising his wand and murmuring a complex spell in Latin. He finished the spell by cutting his finger and tracing blood over Harry's mythical scar, abating the pain and allowing Harry to shiver in relief.

"Better, I'd assume?" Voldemort coyly, enjoying the look of exhaustion on the slighter brunette's face. Harry didn't respond, he didn't even look at the man.

"What's next.." Voldemort asked aloud, "Oh yes, to strip your magic". Harry glanced up with contempt in his eyes for the elder Wizard. "Oh Harry, this is the least I shall be doing to you.. There's no need getting so worked over it"

The ritual took hours, mostly due to the fact that it was not consented. Harry felt exhausted and numb by the end of it, as if 50% of what was integral to him had gone. Collapsed in the small bed in the hexagonal room, Harry was a sight for Voldemort to smile at. The boy's magical essence had been removed and destroyed, if it was enough for the prophecy; it was enough for him.

Assured the child prodigy was incapacitated, Voldemort took an unconventional decision to pick up the boy with his own arms and carry the limp body towards his personal quarters. Harry was too drained to struggle, and the steady steps and lethargic movements lulled the brunette into succumbing into feigned sleep. Being unconscious was just leaving too much open to the enemy.

Voldemort placed the now very unthreatening boy on the bed that dominated the bedroom in his living quarters. He allowed himself to take in Harry's lax form. Now the threat of the prophecy was gone, along with Harry's previously reputable power, the boy looked tiny. Only now to the dark lord notice that his opponent was incredibly slight, without noticeable height of broadness. A child practically.

The boy was pining slightly from exhaustion, small wheezes that accompanied his panting. Cold sweat sticking his unruly hair to his forehead. It was absurd that this boy was the cause of his repetitive downfall. This child was Dumbledore's secret weapon; Voldemort would have laughed if he didn't just reflect upon the sheer power that needed to be shed and destroyed merely minutes beforehand. Now though, Harry just stood for the petering resistance left in the wizarding world, a crestfallen boy at his mercy.

A small smile curled along Voldemort's lips, yes, Harry was all his to play with now. Stalking forward, the dark lord shed his outer robe, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt and kneeling onto the bed. Harry's eyes were closed, clamping shut as he felt Voldemort's presence on the bed, and the weight of two arms each side of his head. Heat radiated from the form above him, scorching his bare chest and licking at the wounds from the earlier ritual.

"Now Harry, it's not very fair to keep those pretty eyes from me. Specially seeing they're mine to behold.." The dark lord's breath danced across his lips as the words were spoken, and it was a tentative decision to open his eyes and meet the man that would soon end his life.

"Much better Harry" Murmured Voldemort, his own orbs darting between Harry's green ones. "Much, much better". Things proceeded quite quickly after that, Harry's lips being kissed and bitten at. Bigger, stronger hands taking hold of his own, and securing them above Harry's head: the pitiful struggles from an exhausted prisoner, easily taken care of. Voldemort had left his own chest fall to meet Harry's, and with a frightful ease the dark lord undid his own shirt and Harry's trousers.

Harry started begging them, murmurs of "Please don't" And.. "No! You can't" Consumed by the dark lord's lips, as he shed both of their clothing. Harry's heart was hammering, torturing he had expected, rape from another man was inconceivable. His body was limp, the ritual removing his ability to tense and struggle away. His legs were knocked apart with ease and slung around the dark lord's waist, as the man began to bite and nip down Harry's jaw.

"Please! Anything but this!" The chuckle that emanated from Voldemort's chest, rumbled Harry's own from contact. "What makes you think that I'm not going to do everything else afterwards?" When a slick hand found Harry's entrance he froze, no longer able to struggle or know what was to follow. A finger slipped inside him to the knuckle, it felt hard and foreign within him, but when Harry tried to push out against it, he just allowed it to slide in deeper. "NO!"

"Yes Harry, let this be easy... Wouldn't be any fun if I ruined you on the first go now, would it?" The brunette was trembling by now, squirming as another finger joined the first, shifting inside him and spreading the soft tissue. He was whimpering by now, a small liturgy of "No", Voldemort had began rocking against him, his thick cock smearing precome along the underside of Harry's thigh.. It was invigorating, this control and manipulation of his enemy.. His downfall. When he finally lined up his erection to the swollen entrance and pushed inside, it was pure bliss. Harry's flesh desperately rejecting and swallowing him all at once, it was only once fully seated that he heard the keening and whimpers. The boy was struggling against him, trying to edge up and away from his cock.

The dark lord moaned. "Sweet, sweet Harry.. If you keep wriggling I will be too tempted to rip you open right now" His words twisted around moans, as he grounded the base of his erection against the tight entrance holding him. Harry froze, unsure what would be worse, confused as to why Voldemort was giving him a moment to acclimatize before sawing into him.

The dark lord's teeth found Harry's supple flesh again, worrying the flesh of his collar bone; his tongue snaking its way up to the shell of Harry's ear. "I knew the Gryffindor prince would be a virgin, such a sweet little whore you make" Harry struggled away from the words, causing Voldemort to bypass his waiting in favour of thrusting into Harry; the boy screamed as the rigid erection drove into him deeper, only just failing to rip his tender insides. The pain was awful, a burn in a place he'd never even felt before, but Voldemort was merciless with his thrusts. Allowing one of his hands to capture both of Harry's and using the other to raise the boy's hips to meet him. It felt glorious, he wondered why he held off with most of his victims, but was quickly reminded by Harry's watered eyes. Only trophies were worthy of Voldemort's bed.

The rape seemed to last forever for Harry, the pain never subsiding but instead becoming slightly familiar. There was no pleasure in it though, and he clenched his body haplessly in an attempt to slow down the constant stream of thrusts. The dark lord felt his cock being gripped, increasing the friction and allowing him to tip into the bliss of climax. He let his teeth bite into Harry's cheek as he came, not deigning the act with vocal moans, Harry hardly noticed instead fixated on the sudden ease in pain as thick fluid softened the blows. Sweat was running down the dark lord's back, sitting by hips as he thrusted his completion, Harry was also covered in sweat. His chest panting wildly against Voldemort's own. It was beautiful, Harry was an Adonis to keep, and kept was what he would be.

A.N. Just did a bit of spell checking on this chapter before updating the whole story.