Voldemort shifted in his throne-like chair, pressing his legs against his pet's small back. His pet turned on the stone floor and leaned onto the leg, resting his raven haired head on the Dark Lord's knees and hugging the leg to his bare chest. His light, open robe slipped from his shoulder, revealing to the on looking Death Eaters a glimpse of pale shoulder.
The Dark Lord ran his fingers through the ebony strands that never lay flat, reveling in the soft texture of the fine strands. His pet was soft everywhere. His hair was silky, he spoke in whispers, and his skin was creamy under his hands. His pet's emerald eyes showed up at him with complete love and absolute devotion. His pet was precious to him and he delighted in the fact that he had become precious to his pet.
Right now they were in the middle of a meeting, his white masked followers gathered and kneeling. They had brought him very good news, something that was becoming more and more frequent. With the loss of their weapon, Harry Potter, the Light was crumbling under his forces.
Yaxley kneeled before him, head bowed and eyes respectfully locked on the dusty floor of Riddle Manor. He had pleased the Dark Lord greatly. He reported of his successful placement as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Voldemort hissed in pleasure, eliciting a purr from his pet in response. He was now in control of the most important branch of British Ministry of Magic. It encompassed the Auror corps and all law enforcement, the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects, as well as the Wizengamot Administration Services. It was only time before the Ministry would fall completely.
One of his most trusted, Lucius Malfoy, assured him of his victory. He and few lesser Death Eaters under his command were working on the political front. He had Fudge wrapped around his little finger. The bumbling idiot would soon find he had very literally and willingly handed the Ministry over to Voldemort in his utter incompetence.
It was all thanks to his little pet. True his own power was formidable, but his pet had been the key. His presence had turned the tide of the war in his favor. He rubbed at the nape of his pet's neck as his Death Eaters ushered in a family of Muggles and traitors to torture. His pet had come to him months ago on bended knee begging for death.
The Dark Lord's glowing red eyes had widened in surprise the day one of his Death Eaters had dragged the infamous Harry Potter before him. He was half starved and appeared to be recovering from a serious beating; his face had been bruised badly and his body had showed the welts and cuts that evidenced having been whipped with a belt. The Death Eater reported that, while on his shift watching the neighborhood that they had pin-pointed as the summer home of Potter, the boy had run from his magically hidden home and begged them-they had no idea how he knew that they were there- to take him to see Voldemort.
Voldemort had Eneverated the boy and immediately bound him.
"Why, Mr. Potter, what a pleasant surprise," Voldemort's lip-less face twisted into a semblance of a smirked.
The boy's head bowed, not in subservience, the Dark Lord noted, but in defeat and exhaustion.
"Please. I surrender. I give myself up willingly," He spoke quietly.
Voldemort was taken aback. The child who had defeated him time after time had given up? Surly he knew that his surrender meant his death. Perhaps this was just another of Dumbledore's plans. He always sent the boy in alone through his machinations to fight against seemingly insurmountable odds.
"I am supposed to believe that Harry Potter, the hope of the Light has just deserted his friends and family and given up?" he sneered.
The boy locked soulful green eyes with him, sadness radiating from his very bones. His eyes begged for release. "I am tired, sir."
Without a second thought, Voldemort cast Legilimens. He surged through the myriad of memories swirling in the boy's mind. He saw the red headed boy that always followed him; Ron, his very first and best friend. Potter knew that he had befriended him because he was the Boy Who Lived. His jealousy and resentment was growing with each day. He would not even write to him anymore.
Another memory popped up. It was Dumbledore. The old man twinkled at him as he told the boy of the prophesy foretelling what was sure to be his demise, telling him that he should have tried harder in his Occlumency lessons.
The memories shifted and his heart shattered as the only person who truly cared about him died. As if in slow motion, he watched as his godfather fell behind the Veil, the cackles of Bellatrix Lestrange sounding around him and reverberating in his mind, haunting his dreams.
Again, the memories zoomed past. Now he was smaller, a young child of four or five. A purple faced walrus of a man backhanded him, flinging him into a wall. Others appeared of a slightly older Harry being beaten fiercely with a belt, being thrown into a dark and stifling cupboard, being thrown down the stairs, being left, forgotten, outside for the night in the rain.
Voldemort cut the spell, hurling himself from Potter's mind. Panting, he stared at the boy. This boy had had an even worse life at the hands of Muggles than he had experienced being cast away in an orphanage. This was the child that was supposed to fight for them? Dumbledore had miscalculated tremendously.
Voldemort, however, looked into Potter's eyes and saw the truth. What the boy had wanted above all was to be possessed, owned, loved completely, but he had had it literally beaten into him since before he was two years old to never ask for what he knew he could not have. So instead he had offered up his death.
It had intrigued the Dark Lord. He did not have to kill the boy. He was a beautiful child, despite his ill health at the moment. He could possess the boy, he could own him completely. In return he was willing to offer this child his love. It would be easy, now that he saw who the boy truly was.
Harry Potter became the Dark Lord's pet.
And he was happy.
The movement of his pet brought him out of his remembrances. The boy bounded from the stone platform that held the Dark Lord's throne and raced over to where the Death Eaters had commenced torturing the newest group of pathetic muggles, worthless muggleborns, and blood traitors they had captured. His pet dived in front of a spell, covering one of the people who were being tortured. His pet screamed in pain as the Crucio hit him instead of its intended victim.
The Death Eater lifted the spell quickly, knowing that anyone who dared to hurt the Dark Lord's pet met with a gruesome death. The boy panted as he recovered, draped over the body of another boy.
/What do you think you are doing, pet?/ Voldemort hissed angrily.
/Master, please spare this one! I know him. He is a good person! He has done nothing to incite your anger!/ Harry pleaded hoarsely, the screaming having left his throat raw.
/Get up!/ Voldemort commanded.
His pet rose shakily to his feet and padded, bare foot, back to his master. Voldemort grabbed him and pulled him onto his lap, the boy straddling his legs within the arms of his throne.
"Put that boy back in the dungeons. We will deal with him later," Voldemort ordered his followers.
The boy in question was hauled from the floor roughly by his torn school robe. He had been rounded up after an attack at Hogsmeade earlier that day. He and the rest of the DA had fought the Death Eaters ferociously, but he had found himself cornered in one of the alley ways and was captured. He had trembled as he had been thrown in a heap before You-Know-Who himself and tried to welcome his fate with Gryffindor bravery. He only hoped he died before he descended into torture induced madness like his parents had.
On his way out of the room, being shoved from behind, he chanced a peak at Voldemort and his pet, his eyes growing wide and his mouth gaping in shock.
"Harry? Harry! It's me, Neville! Harry!" he called as he was led away.
His pet ignored the boy, instead gazing fearfully at the Dark Lord. /I apologize, master./
Voldemort grabbed his pet by the chin, making him meet his eyes.
/What have I said, pet? What have I told you about interfering? What have I told you about playing the little savior Dumbledore had trained you to be?/
/That I was not to. That "Harry Potter" no longer exists here. That I would be punished./
The remaining Death Eaters shifted in place, still in formation in the cavernous grand hall of Riddle Manor, unsure if they were supposed to continue their revelry or not.
"Leave us!" the Dark Lord snapped with an imperious wave of his hand. His minions shuffled off quickly, dragging or pushing their captives out with them.
/I'm sorry, master./ his pet whispered softly, burying his face in his master's shoulder.
Voldemort said nothing, only lifting his pet's flimsy robe to reveal his pale rounded ass.
His pet jerked in his lap as he brought his hand down in a firm spanking.
/You have been a bad pet/, he growled, landing another firm smack.
/Yes, master/, his pet moaned.
/You will not do that again, will you, my pet?/ smacks began to rain down on the reddening flesh.
/No, no, my master. My merciful master. My precious master!/
By now his pet was beginning to harden and arch into the spankings. Voldemort halted his smacks, rubbing his hands over the sensitized flesh and squeezing. His pet moaned wantonly as he traced his pet's cleft with his fingers and squeezed his hanging balls.
"Oh!" his pet intoned softly. He rocked his hips as the Dark Lord began to massage his pink puckered hole with his thumb and stroked his balls and the base of his cock with his fingers. With a flick of his wrist he wandlessly cast a lubricating spell. His pet became hot and wet, fluid slooshing from his hole
/Yes, my pet, my beautiful pet. You will obey me. You are mine!/ he punctuated his claim by swiping his fingers up and plunging two fingers inside.
His pet moaned and rolled his hips, arching up in pleasure. Voldemort watched the pleasured expressions pass on his pet's face as he fucked his pet furiously with his fingers. He moved his fingers in and out, scissoring and stretching his tight little hole, before adding a third finger.
/Oh, Master!/ his pet hissed in elation when he found the little bundle of nerves inside of him. /Oh, please, master! Fuck me, master, fuck me hard!/
Voldemort growled and withdrew his fingers. His pet whined in negation at the loss of them, feeling empty. He grasped his rock hard cock from inside his robes, opening them and hissing at the cool air hitting his hot and throbbing member. The Dark Lord stroked his erection a few times, lubricating it with his dribbling pre-cum, before gripping his pet's hips and jerking him down.
He immersed himself into his pet's hot silky hole in one thrust until his balls rested against his pet's reddened cheeks. His pet shrieked in pained pleasure, feeling so full of his master.
Voldemort began furiously thrusting up into him, not waiting for his pet to adjust to his considerable girth. He knew every inch of his precious pet and knew how to position them so that each thrust stroked his pet's prostate.
"Ha…ha…hah..uhn!" his pet panted, nearly senseless in pleasure. He arched atop his master, meeting each thrust as he pounded into him.
Voldemort jabbed into the smaller boy one last time before pulling out. He stood up, hurling the boy from his lap and depositing him in the chair. His pet faced and gripped the back of the chair, spreading his legs and displaying his gaping hole to his master. Voldemort sheathed himself again deep in his hot tunnel.
"Nghn! Oh, yeah!" his pet moaned. His master was able to go so much deeper now. He felt as if he could taste him in his throat, he was so deep.
Voldemort pounded into his pet, his balls slapping in rhythm against his creamy globes. He wrapped himself around his pet, stroking his little pink nipples and tonguing the sensitive spot at the nape of his neck.
"Master! Fuck! I'm gonna…uuuhn!"
He felt his pet's walls trembled as he neared his climax. His pet screamed in pleasure as he released, spraying his cum all over the back of the Dark Lord's throne. His inner walls clamped and contracted on his master, inside him, causing him to empty himself deep within his depths.
After a few last thrusts, milking every last drop of cum into his beautiful pet, the Dark Lord slumped onto the back of his pet, stroking every bit of soft pale skin he could reach.
/Good pet. My precious pet…/