Summary: Desperate for revenge after everything Dumbledore put him through, Harry runs to his enemies.

General WARNINGS: there will be SLASH in future chapters! torture, gore, violence, murder, semi dark!Harry


As the young man approached the enormous house, the first thin blowing of summer rain met him. Harry pulled his cloak around him tighter, silently musing over the sound of his shoes hitting the stones. Hot, bubbling rage prickled his insides as he remembered the last few hours.

He had been left out of the Order meetings as usual. After a series of failed attempts, he eventually stopped trying to eavesdrop and stopped badgering Ron and Hermione for information. But this time he had intrigued. Perhaps it had been the fact that half of the Order members had not been in attendance. Or perhaps it had been the fact that the usual charms and wards had been absent, strangely enough, which had allowed him to hear every word that had been said. Perhaps, he thought to himself, it had been all intentional.

But Harry snorted, shaking this thought immediately from his head. Dumbledore would not have wanted his precious weapon to know about all of his schemes, now would he?

As it had been meeting night, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny typically went upstairs and talked until they nearly fell asleep. After Hermione and Ginny had left for their room, and Ron had climbed into his bed, Harry too had laid down with the intention to sleep. But after tossing and turning for what seemed like hours (but, in reality was only about one hour), Harry gave up and went out of the room. Illuminating his wand, he padded down slowly to the drawing room.

Surprised by the voices he could hear in the kitchen as he passed the door, he had curiously listened in on the meeting. He wasn't at all surprised to hear the meeting was about him and how "protecting" him was supposed to go about. But then he heard Ron's voice in there, telling the Order about his day to day activities. Hadn't he just left Ron upstairs, snoring as usual?

Then Mrs. Weasley gave her report on him. She went on about how he didn't eat enough and how the potions didn't seem to be having any effect.

Harry became confused. What potions?

Snape interrupted her to say that he might have developed an immunity to the potions, and that there was only a certain amount of potion that one could absorb in a lifetime. Though then he continued on, saying a snide remark about how he must feel too good to eat homemade food.

Remus then gave a muttered remark about it taking one to know one, right Severus?

Dumbledore interrupted the two men before they could fight. "And how are things going for you Remus?"

Remus gave another muttered response, this time too low for Harry to hear.

Dumbledore sighed. "I know it's hard for both of you, but perhaps you and Harry can help each other. Sirius cared about you both. He wouldn't want either of you suffering, now would he?"

Sirius. The very mention of his name had made Harry's chest constrict, and a fierce anger at Dumbledore made his heart pound just a bit quicker. The already stuffy air seemed to thicken, making it harder to breathe.

"I find it hard to believe that Black cared about anyone other than himself," said Snape. Harry hands formed into fists, his nails digging small crescents into his palms. Snape, that no-good, greasy—

"I imagine you have nothing new to report, Severus?"

"No Albus. Potter remains as pig-headed as ever."

(Stupid greasy git) thought Harry as he lashed his foot out at a pebble resentfully. He looked up, heavy raindrops splattering against his glasses. Malfoy Manor was close now. Swallowing thickly, Harry took the last few steps towards the large, imposing wrought iron gates and raised a hand to open them, but before his fingers could touch the metal, the gates came apart with an eerie creeeaaaak worthy of a horror film. Not that Harry had seen one, but he knew that Hogwarts' gates made a far different sound.

The gravel crunched underneath his feet as he walked up to the large manor. Snape had given him a Portkey to come here. He had said he could talk to the Dark Lord himself here.

He reached the front door, solid wood, with large silver knockers, easily twice his height. Rubbing at his prickling scar, he raised his hand to knock, but the door suddenly flew open and a wand tip was thrust into his face.

"Hands where I can see them, Potter," snapped the cold voice of Draco Malfoy. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for Potter to enter, wand not lowering. Harry stepped past him carefully, eyes never leaving his nemesis'. A whirlwind of emotions were flickering through those silver eyes, those that he recognized were hate and humiliation.

"Go," Malfoy growled, jabbing him in the chest with the wand. Harry turned silently, not comfortable with turning his back to Malfoy, but went forward as instructed. They started down the long corridor, eventually reaching a large sitting room. Almost immediately, all conversations stopped and all eyes flickered towards them.

One would be able to hear a pin drop in this silence. Harry felt cold sweat trickle down his neck as he was guided past several groups of Death Eaters. Despite his unease, he kept his head high and his gaze forward, not allowing himself to focus on the cruel smirks of the Death Eaters. His scar seemed to throb just a bit more with every step he took.

He was led near the fireplace, and the dull ache became a full blown headache.

Voldemort was sitting in a stiff, high-back chair in front of the fireplace, the orange light causing disturbing shadows on his slanted, snake-like face. His simple, dark robes flowed over the chair and pooled around his feet. Bellatrix sat on his left, her wild hair turned a dark brown by the flames. She was cooing over Voldemort, but he didn't seem to be paying her any attention. Lucius Malfoy was on his Lord's right, his cold, steel-colored eyes betraying nothing and watching Harry's every movement. His eyes flickered to his son's for a moment, then settled back on Harry's.

Draco cleared his throat, hesitation evident. "My Lord?"

Voldemort ruby red eyes turned onto them. He regarded them for a moment, and then he gave a wide, lipless smile.

"Ah, Harry," he said, arms spread in what could be considered a welcoming gesture. "Have you come to join your parents and godfather in death?" He chuckled darkly to himself and stroked his wand slowly. Bellatrix gave a high-pitched giggle and Harry was tempted to run over and strangle her, to choke the life out of her body so that she could join Sirius in death. But only the narrowing of his eyes was a sign of his interior struggle.

"He wishes to join the cause, my Lord," came the voice of Snape. Harry turned his head to see him approach. He was in loose robes (that still billowed out behind him, of course) with his greasy hair brushed back behind his ears. Harry glanced back towards Voldemort, whose brow had risen in surprised. Even Malfoy Senior looked surprised.

"Is that so Harry? Why ever so?" Voldemort asked, red eyes wide with curiosity, though power still swirled in his gaze.

Harry swallowed before answering. "I don't want to be on Dumbledore's side anymore." His voice trembled and he hated it.

Silence met his words. Draco was looking at him as if he had lost his mind. Lucius' eyes were wide. Snape was as unreadable as ever. Voldemort was blank. Bellatrix let out a mad bark of laughter that startled everyone back into motion.

"Mmm? Is that so Harry?" the Dark Lord repeated. "Why ever not?"

He thought about it for a moment.

"He's lied to me too many times. He's having my best friend spy on me, and he's lacing my food with potions, he won't let me into the Order, even though by now I think I've earned the right, and he thinks he can control my life!" he had started out quietly, but at the end his voice had risen to a shout, the reality of the last few days hitting him like an anvil, and with it came the rage.

He heard Malfoy snort very quietly next to him. He was abruptly aware of how much he had sounded like a petulant child, and flushed mildly.

"Your arrogance astounds me yet again, Potter. Dumbledore was giving you nutrition potions to try and counteract the years of abuse you sustained with those Muggles," Snape said, spitting the last word as if it were a disease. "They've been in your food for years, but there is a limit as to how much your body will use."

"So he knew how they were treating me, and yet insisted on me going back there every year?" Harry demanded quietly.

Snape seemed taken aback. Then he composed himself. "Yes, it appears so."

Harry had nothing to say to that (except perhaps "I told you so", but he didn't think that wise to say, especially since Snape might Crucio him), so he remained silent and turned his attention back to Voldemort, who had remained mysteriously silent.

Silence reigned as the two regarded each other. Not even Bellatrix dared to make a sound. Harry was careful not to look into those ruby eyes, not wanting to have his thoughts looked through.

"You know, Potter," Voldemort said carefully, neutrally. "You and I are not that different from each other." When Harry didn't say anything, he took that as an invitation to continue. "We were both raised unloved, our parents left us, and Dumbledore saw fit to ignore our needs and our pleas for help." He paused. "Do you not agree, Harry?"

"I do agree," Harry responded shortly. Voldemort seemed to be waiting for a more elaborated answer, but Harry would not take any initiatives.

"And what could you bring to our cause, Harry?"

Here he wasn't too sure what he could respond. And this uncertainty showed in his voice. "Information on Dumbledore?"

"Information on Dumbledore?" the Dark Lord repeated, unimpressed. "Is this a question?"

"No, it's not a question. I can bring you information on Dumbledore," Harry said, trying to put some more force into his words.

Snape, unlike Draco, did not even try to hide his contempt. "I doubt it, my Lord. Potter wears his heart on his sleeve, and would not be able to lie that dunderhead Longbottom , much less to Albus Dumbledore."

Harry felt an urge to defend Neville; he didn't deserve Snape's scorn. "Just because he's not so good in potions doesn't mean he's not intelligent."

"If he passes his classes, it is because of Granger."

"Hey, Neville—"

"Silence!" barked Voldemort. "If you have nothing useful to say, Severus, don't say it. Unless you wish to test my patience." His cold voice had become a low hiss.

Snape bowed stiffly. "I apologize, my Lord."

Voldemort settled back in his chair and touched his fingertips together. "Now that we've established that you can't spy for us, Potter, what else do you propose you do?"

He hesitated too long. "Potter, my patience is wearing thin."

"I'm not sure what else I could do," Harry confessed, his stomach twisting itself in knots.

Snape shifted slightly, and the elder Malfoy's brow was raised.

"So you decide to run away from Dumbledore in a tantrum, and you come here to waste my time?" the Dark Lord hissed dangerously. Harry's scar burned hotly, and the throbbing in his head became more insistent. Voldemort turned towards Snape, anger apparent. "And you led him here, Severus?"

Snape immediately kneeled. "I apologize, Master, I thought he would have been better prepared."

"Crucio," came the hissed spell, and seconds later, Snape was writhing on the floor, screaming out his agony. Harry was shocked seeing his normally proud, sneering Potions master like this. He swallowed back his discomfort and looked away.

After a few moments Voldemort lifted the spell. Snape was left on the floor, panting for breath. He shakily climbed back on his feet and hung his head.

The monster turned its attention back to Harry. "Has that given you any ideas, Harry?" Voldemort asked, a cruel smile on his lips.

"No. I think it actually made my ideas go out the window." Those red eyes narrowed.

"Then perhaps with the help of your schoolmate your ideas will come back? Crucio." This time it was directed towards Draco. The blond fell to the floor, he too screaming his pain. His screams were high-pitched, and tears streamed down his face.

Voldemort released the spell sooner than he had with Snape, yet Malfoy seemed to be in worse shape. His immaculate hair was now in disarray, and his dulled grey eyes shone with tears as he attempted to push himself up.

"And now, Harry?" demanded Voldemort.

Harry tried to think like Ron (even though he clenched his jaw every time he thought of the redhead), like a strategist.

"It will upset the Light side to see me with you," he said.

Voldemort appeared thoughtful. "True…"

"You could just keep him as your pet, my Lord," said Bellatrix, a wicked gleam in her eye.

He chuckled darkly. "I could, couldn't I?" he mused aloud.

Harry's eyes widened. Pet? What did they mean by that? He started panicking internally, afraid of what they might do if they saw his fear.

"Draco, take him to the dungeons."

"What?"

"Yes, my Lord."

The younger Malfoy caught his bicep in a surprisingly strong grip. "Don't even try, Potter," was his whispered warning. Harry ignored him and tried to throw him off.

"No, Malfoy!" he caught the blond with a fist to the stomach, but before he could hit him again, his other arm was seized by Snape.

"Desist, Potter," he sneered, wand poking into his neck. "Go, Draco," he said firmly. Malfoy smoothed his shirt down irritably, and jabbed his wand roughly into Harry's side.

"Forward, Potter," he snapped. Muttering darkly under his breath, Harry started walking. As they went through the sitting room, Harry tried looking around discretely for an exit. But at all the windows, there was at least one Death Eater near, and all of them were looking at him and Malfoy. There were only three doors, one that led to the hallway and two that led elsewhere. It would be foolish to take one of the latter.

Malfoy took him to one of the unknown doors, it was small and wooden.

"Open it," he commanded. His wand had surely made a hole in his robes with all the poking he had done.

Harry turned the iron handle and pulled the door outwards. Dampness invaded his nostrils. Darkness clouded his vision. It looked like some enormous creature's mouth.

Abruptly, Malfoy pushed him in. Not expecting it, Harry stumbled and fell, rolling a few feet away from the door. He tried to pick himself up, trying to get back to the door. Malfoy's sneering face was the last thing he saw before the door was pulled closed with a slam.

"No!"


A/N:

So what do you think? Should I continue this? And no, before you ask, Harry will not be a sex pet.