I Don't Think You're a Waste of Space

BY : Unicorn Tickles
Category: Harry Potter > General > General
Dragon prints: 6040
Disclaimer: Fictional story based on fictional characters. I own nothing of Harry Potter, and make no money.


    He lay awake for a long time, terrified of where this all would lead. What lengths his uncle would force him to before the man would tire of him, like Harry was hoping. At some point the filthy git rolled off him, snoring towards the window instead, and Harry took in his own air, not the recycled swill he'd been choking on for far too long, and in time, fell asleep. 

    He opened his eyes and saw the two men from the ministry who'd been at the Dursleys' that morning. They were shaking and tripping over each other in their incompetence, kneeling before him on the stone floor of Professor Dumbledore's office. 
    "Dark Lord, he knew nothing. We had his muggle owner order him to tell the truth. He told us all he knew." The other one nodded fervently.
    "You perhaps didn't know the proper questions to ask." They started to shake their heads and sweat. "He must know more than he told you."
    Harry pulled out and knew the Dark Lord was coming. 
    "Uncle Vernon! Please, wake up!"
    "Hmm?" He blinked stupidly, and stretched, wasting moments. 
    "Please, tell me I can run, tell me I can go outside!"
    "He's coming! I can't do anything here. Tell me I can go outside, and I'll -"
    "You think I'm stupid?" He was awake now. "You're trying to trick me or something? I thought you were coming around, Harry." He sat up and turned to him.
    "Please, I'll come back. Or order me to come back. But he's coming right now, please!"
    "Yeah? Just going to nip out to some bush to hide in, and come straight back in the morning? This is what you and your friend thought up this morning, yeah? See? I'm not so stupid as you think I am." But he was. Frighteningly stupid. 
    "Be quiet!"
    "Yes, Master" he whispered, growing desperate and hopeless, a familiar feeling.
    "Stop this, right now."
    "Yes, Master." He stayed still and quiet so his uncle would lay back down, which he did, and closed his eyes. Harry's head screamed at him as he saw one of the Ministry men hit the stone floor of Riddle's new home, unseeing eyes staring. The other was begging mindlessly for his meaningless ineffectual little life, and Harry hoped he would buy him some time. He was shaking, and his scar was pounding, but he could hear through all that, his uncle's steady breathing. He just needed the man to fall asleep. But he didn't have the time. "I'm sorry I woke you, Master. It wasn't a good trick, and I'm sorry I tried it. May I go and use the loo?"
    "I suppose. But come back when you're done. Be back here, in this bed before ten minutes are up."
    "Yes, Master." That covered a lot of ground. Uncle Vernon was getting the hang of this rubbish. "Thank you." He could work with it. He could do something which was a lot better than waiting here, beside the man who would transform any moment. 
    He left his glasses but grabbed his baggy trousers and shirt and ran out and downstairs, looking about as he pulled the clothes on. If he used his old room, Riddle would know he was there. He was reacting without thinking, and he needed to slow down. Riddle knew about the cupboard, but he wouldn't know about his recent change of residence. 
    Harry turned, overcome with sudden genius, and went for a knife from the kitchen, wondering if the bond would even allow such a thing. A tremor in his wrist let him know, and he couldn't close his fingers about it. He tried to tell himself that he would be using it on Riddle, not his uncle, but he knew he was just wasting time here. All he could do was hide.
    The bedroom upstairs really was better. Harry crept back up the steps, feeling a little foolish for all his covered ground for nothing, and slipped into the bathroom up there. He didn't use it, just hid.
    Rising anger made it all more possible, and he slipped back to Riddle's eyes with too much ease.
    "Avada Kadavra," he said, almost in a bored fashion, still giving enough intent, but it was second nature by now. Then he took hold of the warm body and apparated into his bedroom, and dropped it on the floor there. Nagini uncoiled from her place near the fire and came over before he could even tell her it was hers. So eager. Like she was starved or something. He laid down on the bed and opened his eyes again on a different bed, as Harry Potter's Master.
    Harry pulled back out and stayed still. He heard his uncle get up and leave the room, then go down the stairs. He crept as quietly as he could back to his room. Then to bed, because that was his last order. He sat and waited, watching through Riddle's, or rather his uncle's eyes, just as Riddle opened the door to his little cupboard. 
    "Harry, if you're in here, come out." There was no movement. Where was he, then? He looked about the downstairs, in case the boy was somewhere else here, then went up the stairs, growing angry at the familiarity of all this. 
    With all the idiotic desperation of a frightened child Harry hid under the bed, knowing it was nothing. Would the closet be better?    
    Riddle went to the room he knew was the master bedroom, sparing a glance for the strange one where he'd first come to. He went on and woke up the woman. "Where is he now?"
    "Vernon? Lord knows. Wherever you left him. His room, I suppose? You know how I feel about all this. Do you need to wake me for your little games? Just rubbing it in, I suppose? Where do you think he is? Maybe he's had enough of you. Maybe he's downstairs."
    "I looked downstairs." The rage was too much this time, and Harry gripped at his hair, hardly noticing he was ripping some out, as he grabbed his aunt by her throat and leaned weight on it. She gripped his hand and clawed; her eyes were wide and frightened. There was something to be said about non magical violence. 
    Out of nowhere a weight hit him from behind, throwing him a little off for being a surprise, but it was only the woman in the bed who paid. Harry knew from under his bed it was Dudley, and this monster was going to kill his family soon. 
    He came out, nearly blinded by what was more than a pounding migraine, and shouted, loud enough for Riddle to hear, "I'm here. Stop!" Dudley was on top of him, beating him and trying to break his grip, but his head turned at the sound of Harry's voice. His hand let go of the woman's throat, but the boy was still going at him. 
    "Dudley stop!" Harry shouted, and winced against the increased throbbing. Everything had happened so fast, and went beyond. Dudley did stop; he heard him. Harry came to the room, and Riddle smiled, like he did. He was facing away from Harry, but he could still feel it. Harry stood apart from the door and didn't move further, waiting for his instructions. "Please, go back to bed, Dudley. Please."
    "He was killing her, Harry. He was -" Dudley stopped, probably seeing it again in his mind. It must have been something for him. 
    "I know. It's not your dad, and he won't do it again." Harry didn't look at the man for confirmation, just hoped what he was saying was true. Mainly he didn't want Dudley to see what would follow. Dudley came to his mother and put a hand on her arm as she choked and gasped. It didn't look as though he was going anywhere. It killed Harry to do so, but he looked towards the man, close to his direction, and said, "I have a room, now. A", he swallowed, "a bed," and waited.
    Voldemort laughed thinly. "As do I, Harry. Go downstairs, to the fireplace."
    "Yes, Master." He shook inside, wishing for what he'd just offered so reluctantly. The fireplace? Where was he taking him? Where was he taking his uncle? That was a tinier thought, but still there. Harry went down the stairs and was followed by his possessed uncle, and stared at the front door longingly as he passed it.
    "I've been ordered to never leave."
    "I give you permission to leave the home, then." Harry could take no time to enjoy it, but he could feel the world open to him like a massive door that swung open for him. He, however, was at the never used fireplace. A fat hand reached up for a handful of powder, in a little box on the mantle, and he laughed at Harry's greedy eyes on it. "You are never to touch or go near this box, Harry."
    "Yes, Master." Go near it? Could he use a stick to knock it off? And if it spilled?
    "You will do everything Lord Voldemort commands you to."
    "Yes, Master." Like dark clouds sucking away his air with heavy updrafts.
    "You will obey his commands and say 'Yes Master', like you do for me, Harry."
    "Yes, Master." So, Uncle Vernon wouldn't be taking any trips tonight. 
    "The Dark Lord's home," was said imperiously, and a handful of dust was thrown in. "Go."
    "Yes, Master," as he stepped in, not truly knowing, but strongly suspecting, and ended up in the headmaster's office.  
    It didn't look nearly the same, and Harry looked up quick to the portraits. Phineas cocked an eyebrow at him, dripping with disapproval.  
    "What was I supposed to do? He didn't tell me anything!" Harry clutched his clothes to him to hold them in place and looked around for Professor Dumbledore's portrait and found it missing. 
    "You never used all the tools at your disposal, though, did you?"
    "Harry." Voldemort. The real one. Harry turned to see where he'd come from, but there was no door or way he could have come. "How good of you to visit me here. Welcome to my home." The thing came at him, long cloak trailing, red eyes devouring him as he approached, and Harry shrank beck, but the fireplace was right behind him. "Stand still." 
    "Yes, Master!" He cried it out, like it was a plea. 
    "Give me your hand."
    "Yes, Master," and did so, swallowed the groan as fire seemed to grasp him, and he was apparated out, to what was a bedroom, the one where Riddle had dumped a body minutes before. Harry fell, and was released. He wasn't going to survive this. Was it stronger than when the demon was in his uncle? Harry couldn't measure and compare the pain, not when it had him in its hold. 
    He became aware of another one in the room, and looked for it. Nagini, as she slithered over. Harry recoiled from her as she asked, Dinner?
    No. You must never eat this one. I know they all look the same to you, but taste him a little. So you know. The snake came to Harry, quicker than he could back away, and slithered over his legs and to his face, then licked him. You have already eaten tonight. Will you ever be full? The words were fond, as fond as this thing could manage. She slithered back to her corner, close to the fire, lugging her swollen belly along. 
    "Come here, Harry."
    "Yes, Master," and Harry got up.
    "No, on your knees."
    "Yes, Master." He crawled to him, and heard laughter. 
    "How could anyone think you were a match for me?"
    "I don't know," Harry answered honestly, even though the question had been rhetorical. 
    "I'm sure you don't. Open your mouth now, and you will not bite, Harry."
    "Yes, Master." The robes in front of him were pulled open, and pale flesh was revealed. An even paler cock, long and thin. 
    Harry stared, transfixed, mouth hanging dumbly open, in place, then a hand grabbed his hair and he pulled from it before he could stop himself. The dick was thrust into his face and he garbled a moan around it, trying to pull away and tuck his tongue to the side, not touch it with anything inside his mouth, but it was impossible to avoid it. He was eating fire. Another hand grabbed his head, and he was held in place for the face fucking. 
    Everything in him called for him to bite down, and he would have if not for the direct order to not do so. He shook hid head violently against it all, but that seemed to give Riddle more pleasure than anything else. 
    Finally he pulled out, and Harry choked and sucked in air. "It's good, Harry," in a voice weakened, "but not as good as everything else you have to offer me. Stand up, Harry."
    "Yes, Master." He was shaking, but when was he not? He felt as though that had been the first prick he'd ever seen from another man; he'd never looked at Uncle Vernon, to be sure, never wanted to see anything. It was a sure purpose the man's gut served, that Harry hardly even had opportunity to see it. 
    Then his clothes, the wonderful covering Dudley had given him, burst into flames. Harry cried out, and tried to hold them in place as they turned to ash. Couldn't the man have just ordered him to strip?
    "You're too modest, Harry," he said full of indulgence. "You look just fine to me. Turn around."
    "Yes, Master." He looked at the rest of the room as he felt the man come close. "Stand still, now."
    "Yes, Master."
    "I don't need you trying to move about." Hands returned, and Harry jumped, hating the scorching that trailed his arse, then hating more the finger that pressed at his passage. But he had to stay in place as it pushed inside, and he felt no need to hold back his cries then. They were nearly alone, but for the snake, and he howled.
    "Good job, Harry. You're doing very well." Harry screamed louder so he wouldn't have to hear the man congratulate him at taking orders. Another finger was worked into him, and he could do nothing but shake. He was pulled backwards and followed the arm, knowing a command would follow if he failed to. When the fingers returned they were wet, and they went in easily, but it did nothing to ease the pain. That was soul deep. 
    "Very good, Harry," when the man was satisfied with Harry's greasy hole, which ended with three fingers. "Now, lie down."
    "Yes, Master." Harry sank to the bed face down and covered his head with his arms like it would help. Riddle covered him with his cold pale body that burned on contact, and Harry yelled into the bedding but he knew it would get worse. The man pushed his cock at him, and shoved it inside slowly, gasping loudly as he did it, and Harry screamed again. Arms wrapped around him and he was pulled back. Voldemort rolled onto his back, holding Harry tight in place as he did so, until Harry was lying on top of him, breached and sobbing. He tried to push up and away from it, but his legs couldn't take much weight. They were revolting as violently as any other part of his body. 
    Once more, Riddle hardly moved inside him, but the rest of his body snaked around, soaking in every other bit of pleasure he could that wouldn't end it all in a thrust. A tiny little grinding, and Harry's limbs turned to lead and his vision was darkening. This was almost nice.
    "What are you doing?" He hardly heard it, like it was from the other room. And in his own head, as he leaned back into the mind that was already enveloping him from every angle. It took less than effort - it would have taken effort not to. And he was immersed in mind numbing pleasure. How could the Dark Lord even think, let alone speak while this was what he was feeling? Everywhere it was wonderful, except his prick. There it was too much. Especially when he pushed inside - just a little - and his hood was pulled back. That was painful. So much pleasure that it hurt, and caused his hips to twitch. No wonder he hardly moved. If he could widen the channel somehow, it might not hurt like it did. 
    "Harry, move."
    "Y - yes, Master." He blinked, and moved his limbs, and some life returned, and the agony crashed back around him. 
    "Taking some liberties?"
    "I," it took too much breath to speak.
    "Harry. This is almost too much pleasure for me. I can only imagine what that means for you."
    Paler than death hands roamed over him, leaching what they took and leaving trails of flame in their wake. He was sure he would die here. Like this. Any more thoughts than that were too much. 
    Movement increased, just a hair, and the monster came, and Harry's arse felt like it was being eaten from the inside out. Every moment just brought more pain. Then he smelled it rather than felt it - the reek of ammonia. He'd pissed himself. He was weakly crying, too empty for anything more, and the darkness that had been waiting at the edges came back. He opened himself to it and passed out.  

    He woke on top of him still, but the cock was out of his arse. Harry panted, still feeling the burning inside, like it wouldn't leave even though the man had, but it wasn't as bad, either way. It was a little less, but he wondered why he didn't smell his flesh cooking from it.
    "Are you back, Harry?" 
    He grunted his answer and rolled off him, then moaned at the relief that started to spread through him. 
    It is too loud, Master. You should let me eat it.
    Nagini, this is your little brother. We do not eat family.
    I have been alive a long time. I may have eaten brothers before.
The bed shook as the monster laughed indulgently. Harry wondered if he would be killed by digestive juices or suffocation first. Suffocation didn't sound so bad. That was almost normal.
    Then you must not eat this little brother. I would be very angry with you. They were both insane, their none sense clattering about like mismatched puzzle pieces, and Harry lost focus as the beast behind him came close and wrapped its arms and legs about him. Harry moaned weakly and tried to pull away.    
    "Are you hungry?"
    "Stay where you are until I give you permission to move, then."
    "Yes, Master," he spat out, and closed his eyes. That had sounded like he would be given a break. The monster rose and left him, Harry heard him disapparate. 
    Harry woke to the same sound, and groaned at where he found himself. He was still weak but it didn't take him long to remember.
    "Did you have a pleasant sleep?" He was being mocked; the voice was loaded with it. He kept still and closed his eyes again. "I don't mind a quiet guest, so I will allow this. If you would like something to eat, ask." That would never happen. How could he want to prolong a life like this? "Harry." The bed dipped with weight. "There will come a day when you are so well trained you will beg me for food. And you will be a perfect little pet, like her." Harry imagined he was referring to Nagini. "Someday, once I've taken the world, and I don't need to do what's expected of me, and I have some impenetrable fortress of a home, I'll take you then, and keep you safe. Where no one can ever get near you. Forever. With all my other things."
    "I'm not a thing." But very bad at taking obvious bait. 
    "But you are. A thing I made. You are one of mine, and part of a collection. You just don't know it."
    "You can't own people."
    Laughter rumbled through the body behind. "Can anyone beat a Gryffindor at denial?"
    "How long -" He couldn't finish it.
    "Until I've had my fill." He'd understood the question, and Harry didn't want the answer anymore. 
    "I'll die here."
    "I don't know if you can die." His voice changed as he turned away from Harry, looking at the room or something in it, Harry didn't know. "Best not to take chances, though, and I may someday take measures to ensure you can't, in either case. I can ... honestly" as though the word were in another language and he was testing its feel in his mouth, "tell you though, without a doubt, that Dumbledore would have had you die, Harry." 
    He shook his head, not really needing to put words to this. Riddle was terrible at manipulation. Of all the people in the world, all the adults who'd let Harry fall through the cracks in one way or another, Dumbledore had been the one to not. 
    "You don't believe me." It wasn't a question.
    "Whatever. It doesn't matter what I think, right? I mean, I'm just some thing?"
    "Yes. My thing, Harry. Many of my things can think, in their own way. You don't know how many games that old man was playing. I didn't, either. But I discovered, thankfully, that he wanted me to kill you. And it would have set back my aims to do so. I imagine he would have struck then, from the shadows and waiting, as he always did, like a spider in his many webs, and he probably thought he would have triumphed that way. That last bit was conjecture, I admit, but the rest was fact, Harry. He never deserved the well of unending loyalty you or anyone else had for him. I don't expect you to understand. But it's true nonetheless. Defeated and defenceless as you are, I wouldn't lie to you. Why would I?" 
    Harry didn't know the answer to that, but he knew it was a good one. Just out of his reach at the moment.         
    "You may believe or disbelieve, I need neither from you. But now, look at me."
    "Yes, Master." He rolled over, using a body that protested all of it.
    "Tell me the truth, and all of it."
    "Yes, Master." His hackles rose. He hoped he could withhold some small things, but what did he have of value?
    "Did McGonagall come with anyone else?"
    "And when did she say she was coming back?"
    "When she could find a way to help me."
    "Where did she go?"
    "I don't know. She didn't tell me."  He thought it might be smart to say it, "I sent her away before she could tell me anything that you would find useful." It might shut down more of these questions.
    The murderous red eyes narrowed at him. "You think you're clever, do you?" He stared a while, thinking his evil thoughts. "I command you to find out everything you can when you see anyone. Find out anything you think I might want to know. Everything."
    "Yes, Master." That was pretty extensive. 
    "Without letting anyone know you're doing it. Never mention this order to anyone. Even indirectly."
    Shit. "Yes, Master." He couldn't even beg Uncle Vernon to undo it. "In fact, I order you to tell me anything you think I might want to know, right now."
    "Yes, Master." He took a shaky breath. "She has Hermione with her." He'd been hoping to to keep that bit back, just in case it had been worth anything.
    "Yes, I thought so. They -" He frowned over his thoughts, little thunderclouds rolling in, not that Harry could make it out clearly, but rather he felt it. "They destroyed one of my favourite werewolves when they pulled that stunt."
    "He's dead?"
    "Tell me something else."
    "Yes, Master." He made a split decision, and hoped he'd chosen right. He didn't want to alert him to Minerva's aim to free Ginny. That was too expensive. "I was hunting horcruxes." The room grew heavy with stillness. He could taste the unease.
    "Of course. He knew enough, didn't he?" It was one of those questions asked, but not to Harry. Riddle had this in common with his uncle - Harry wasn't really a ... a person - there, in the room with them. He was furniture. A houseplant again. 
    Harry could feel that he wanted the number. "Seven."
    "Did you find any?"
    "Just the locket."
    "Did you destroy it?"
    "What did you use?"
    "The Sword of Gryffindor." In a dead voice. Was there anything left to hide?
    "Yes, Master. I thought we destroyed it, I may be wrong, Master." Yep. That was the right thing to say. 
    "You most likely are. I would like the locket very much."
    "I last saw it in the woods. Before we were taken." That was skirting it widely. He could feel the unease, and it built up, steadily, until it was pain, like on his seventh day of abstinence, but much quicker. "Malfoy's," he gasped, just as his shoulders and hips started throbbing, then everything eased instantly, leaving a pulsing anger in its wake.
    "Was that some last vestige of your spirit, Harry?"
    "No, Master." Dry laughter rippled from Riddle at him, and Harry stuffed his rage down deep. It couldn't be more useless.
    "That's too bad, Harry. I wouldn't mind having a bit left to play with. If you save just a tiny piece for me, I may even let you keep some. See Nagini? I have allowed her plenty of spirit. You could find less generous masters, Harry, I promise. But now, I have to leave again. I will be back as soon as I can." 
    Nagini, you know what I am going to say to you?
    I do not. I don't know Master's thoughts.
    You do. You're playing with me.
    Don't eat it?
    Very good. 
    I might.
    Should I take you with me? I want you to like this one. Tolerate, if you can't like.

    Her silence was taken for assent, and Riddle left them. Harry peeked and saw he was going to Malfoy Manor. Would he retrieve the sword as well? And if he stored it here? Maybe Harry would have a chance, in the future - and it hurt to know that if he survived this, he would be back here someday - the sword might be here, and perhaps he could use it on Nagini. Nothing less would kill her. There were basilisk fangs in this very building, but they couldn't be further away. Not that it mattered once something wasn't here, in this very room with no doors. It could be on the other side of the wall and it might as well be in the Chamber of Secrets for all Harry could do about it.

    He sat up slowly, and looked about for her, but everything that far was a blur. Then she moved and he could see her. She was much closer than he'd thought -  the floor by the bed. Staring at him. You'll eat me the moment you choose to.
    I may.
    Do it. Quickly before he gets back.
    It's a trick?Humans always think they are smarter than us. Than me.
    It's not a trick. I'd really rather not be alive when he comes back. That's all.
 And if he survived this, if he got back home, back with the Dursleys who looked like Heaven right then, he would have to try. He would have to work up the courage to do it himself. He could. He would have to, or it would just be more of this. 
    Yes, he says we are of a brood, but he treats you much differently than he does me. He's never made me scream. She was perhaps proud, perhaps pensive about it. Snakes were hard to read. Harry decided against the fireplace. It would have taken effort, and he had none. He laid back down and closed his eyes to see a much better kept Lucius Malfoy on his knees, apologising for not offering up the seemingly worthless locket earlier. Riddle was seeing that it was in fact destroyed. Would Harry be punished?
    He pulled back out and found her still staring at him. What was it with this one? He rolled over and tried to sleep. Hours later he gave up and counted the blurred stones in the wall.

    He woke, and was still left alone with the snake. He could have looked into the Dark Lord's mind, but he hesitated to remind him that he existed. If he could just be forgotten here forever, surely there were worse ways to go? She'd eat him then. She wanted to. She spent a great deal of time staring at him. He could feel it, from across the room, her intent when she focused it on him. 
    Many hours after that Riddle came back, sword and locket in hand. "You think you're clever, don't you? Perhaps you didn't destroy it? What did you say, Harry? That you may not have?"
    "What do I know, I'm just some kid. Let me die already."
    Harry's eyes fell to the sword. A bolt of shiny in the black mass punctuated by unearthly red eyes that was the Dark Lord. Could he summon that to him, right then? Or had he been a play thing and a coward too long, and less than "worthy"? 
    "I would very much like to know how you came to have this sword, Harry."
    "Me, too."
    "Tell me."
    "Yes, Master. It just appeared under the ice one day. That's it. It comes to," he couldn't say worthy, especially not when referring to himself, "Gryffindors". Not anymore. 
    "Appeared under the ice?"
    "Lucius thought it was fake, but this locket says otherwise." He stared at him, for so long that Harry turned away. Nagini had gone back to the fire. "Good thing I have a replacement."
    Harry said nothing, stared intently into the flames across the room. And then, the shifting of the bed. He hunched in on himself, instinct alive for self protection, but the bits that would be harmed were already facing the monster. 
    "I brought something for both of us, this time. It has some mild numbing agents in it, Slughorn assured me." Harry heard a bottle uncorked, and hoped Riddle hadn't told Professor Slughorn anything else. But it was a mild thought against the much more sudden threat. "You were right, you need to be widened more. You might not enjoy this part, Harry. But be patient."
    "Yes, Master," he mumbled into the mattress, and flinched from the touch. He gathered up some bedding in his mouth and bit down, just as a couple of fingers pushed inside him, into the still burning passage. Riddle's first leaving was still there, seeping and burning, but he didn't seem to mind. He worked with it, and Harry could feel some of the slightly analgesic properties in the potion he was using. Not much. Not nearly enough. There was no drug that would have killed this pain. 
    "You're still quite loose, aren't you?" A third finger was added, and Harry moaned, ground fabric between his teeth and clenched his useless fists. "I hope for your sake that this hurts less than you're putting on." He worked at Harry's passage, stretching and spreading his fingers and sending jolts of electric pain through him. He tried to stay still, tried to keep quiet, then a fourth finger, stretching everything. Harry howled and tried to pull away. "I will allow you some movement, but stay beneath me, Harry."
    "Yes, Master," but it was garbled about the sheets that were getting caught between teeth. It was too much. He thrashed in place, hating the command for all it allowed, and dug his toes into whatever they could find. Anything his parts could do on their own would remind him that his body was more than the concentrated agony. Riddle worked his fingers in him, until he pulled out and shoved them back in, and Harry could tell, from the depth, as he just kept pushing onwards, that he was using his whole hand. 
    "Stop! God, just stop, please!" It came out largely intelligible, but those were the words he was going for. He would choke on the sheets soon. He would die from this pain. People died of pain, right? 
    "Easy, Harry. I'm almost done." 
    But he wasn't. Harry didn't know much then, but he knew that. Harry pushed up from the the bad, dislodging the mouthful he had, and pulled away from the hand, but it wasn't going anywhere. Niether could he. He could move as much as he wanted, but he needed to stay ... beneath him. "I can't!"
    "You can." His hand was pistoning him, drilling him open, and he felt he might go insane from this. 
    "I can't! No more, please stop!"
    "Here, I can do this for you." He stopped moving, and Harry felt something cool enter him, the potion. He was pouring it into him. Like he was gaping open. But it did help. Just a little, but taking that tiny edge off was something Harry would take with both hands. It was better than nothing. 
    "Perhaps you're ready, now?" Harry nodded weakly. Anything to get his bloody hand out of him. In what world was this done to people? He fell back weakened, and stayed limp as Riddle lowered over him, and hardly flinched when he entered him. It was better than before. And better than the hand. 
    Riddle sighed richly as he filled Harry. "This was a good idea Harry. This is much better."" And he agreed, but only because he'd been in the very pit of hell moments before. This was only better by comparison. Riddle fell silent then and tried some actual movements, making squishing sounds from all the potion he'd used. Harry found he didn't mind the noise, considering what it had meant. Just a tiny bit of the pain removed was what it was. And when he was in it, it was worth anything.
    Riddle made some rattling high pitched sounds through his shortened nose, spread his body so his limbs snaked over and covered Harry's. If he had skin exposed, Riddle draped himself over it. His concentration came full force into it, and Harry retreated back into Riddle's mind, a welcome refuge even if it was nearly torn apart from the sensations of tearing him apart.
    He came back to himself once Riddle had fallen asleep. Or at least, his breathing was even and his mind seemed at rest. Harry was on top of him again, face up. He stared at the ceiling, hoping for death, but he was too much fun for the Dark Lord. There would be no death for him. Thoughts more complex than that wouldn't form, and he could do nothing but wait for more. If he didn't move, the man would sleep longer, but did he want that? 
    It was impossible to stay still. Pain was like that; if he moved his body it distracted, or refocused sensations, or whatever. He rolled his fingertips against each other, flexed his toes and ground his teeth, but tried to keep his body still enough to not wake Riddle. 
    He was a drenched sweaty mess when his temporary master woke with hands that went straight to touching and petting. Riddle ground himself against Harry until he hardened, and the hands grew in their intent. He was entered again. A hand travelled his front, making him writhe in place, and Voldemort groaned loudly from it all, only his groans were high pitched and so out of place. Voldemort's hand skimmed its way down, and Harry knew it was happening before before it did, tried to get away from it, worming against the man trying to escape the scalding cold hand that grasped his own prick. 
    Harry screamed some more, shouting desperate sounds that could never have been words. And just like that Voldemort came again inside him, with a spurt that Harry felt as it cooked its way through him. It warred with the furnace encasing his dick and he screamed again, but there was no pity in the creature under him. Just those papery thin moans and laughter in breathless huffs. 
    The arms released him, and he threw himself off, gasping and shaking. He didn't stop until the cold floor hit hi, and he shook in place, huddling and holding himself. When there was no contact his body could reach some relief, though his arse never cooled. Riddle had left some of himself in there, and Harry felt some parts might be permanently torn.
    "I'm afraid that you may think I'm a less than skilled lover, Harry. It's your fault, though, not mine. That's what your body does to me. I could find some potions that help me last longer. Would you like that?" Harry felt waves of dread. This was surely something the Dark Lord could achieve. "Are you sure you wouldn't like something to eat? You've been here for some time." He shook and stayed as close to silent as he could, but he was still making some incredibly shameful noises.
    "I will be back. Taking over the world is a lot of work." He rose and waved his wand over Harry, said a spell, and Harry was wrapped in darkness. 

    "I think it would be polite for me to say that having you here, right here, waiting for me to come home, has brightened my day." Harry opened his eyes, on the bed again. "These last few days, of having you here, have made life almost ... enjoyable for me. I don't think you know what that means. I think that I should just keep you here."
    Harry shook his head, blinking blearily. Days? He'd slept again. 
    "I don't know why I would ever have given you to ... muggles in the first place. No matter how harmless they may be, or good at keeping you alive. I want to keep you. I think I will."
    Harry broke down and cried like a baby.
    "Oh, come now. You want your uncle back?"
    Good god, did he? If so, it was just because the man was the lesser of two evils.
    "Harry. The sound of your cries make me feel young. Or whatever young feels like. It's possible I skipped a couple steps."
    I'm hungry, Master.
    You're always hungry. My answer is firm, pet. This one is off limits.
    You never let me have anything.
    I will have something brought up for you, but you're still swollen with that meal you had days ago.
He turned back to Harry, his voice rising with the direction. I could arrange a snack.
     Harry could feel the intent. Would he chop a limb off? He wanted this over, in any way he could get it. Just do it, Nagini. Swallow me already.
    You see, Master? It wants to be dinner.
    It does not! 
    I do -
coupled with It does.
    And even if it did, I do not want that. The two of you. Like a couple of spoiled children.
He sounded angry, but Harry could feel he wasn't. It was a strange sensation. Familial, as he'd said. Indulgent.
    He heard him move about behind him, then the bed dipped again, and Harry felt him lean close, flinched as he was touched, and his arm was brought back. He stayed as he was and held as still as he could. Pulling against the hold of this creature only solidified the pain. A searing slice travelled his arm, and it took Harry the feeling of wetness to realise it was the sting from an actual wound. Did he want to look? Did he want to know? 
    A wet tongue travelled his arm and he grunted and pulled against the grip. 
    You'll tease me with it, then?
    No, you may come and have a taste. But I don't want to hear any more from you about eating this one after this.

    Harry struggled, but he had so little left for it. Everything he did was just stressing an already stressed joint, and he could feel where the give would be - his shoulder, not the hand that had him. 
    The two snakes behind him lapped and helped themselves, and Harry found he really didn't want to be in Riddle's mind for this. 
    I have wanted to drink your blood since it revived me, Harry.
    It's not that good, Master. I've had better.
    Then perhaps you would prefer the fireplace?
    No. I will eat now. Who knows when you will feed me again?

    Riddle laughed out loud at that. My poor starved little pet.You would consume us all if you could. She didn't contest it, just let the silence speak for her, and Harry much preferred the tickle of her tongue. It didn't sear everything it touched. Then she latched on toothlessly and sucked at him, but that was still better. And it forced Riddle to take a back-seat.
    He tried very hard to put his mind anywhere else, but every time he did, Riddle's mind was like a flame, and he a moth, and he had to fight to not be drawn into it. That led to him struggling to anchor firmly in his own head, and he as left with no options.
    The raptures of Harry's blood led to more bed play, and Nagini left them to it, preferring her fireplace to the unnatural sounds and smells they made, as she put it. Harry agreed. He was fisted again, and used, like before, being held in place on top. Then more blackness, and he woke alone again. Alone with the snake, of course. 

    He was angry before he returned, and Harry felt it. It spread fear through him, and he wondered how this would translate physically. He needn't have, as when Riddle came back, he had little interest in Harry.
    "I suppose I'm done with you for the time." He grabbed Harry and apparated them back to the study, then took a handful of floo powder. Harry dropped inplace, legs turned to uselessness. "I will have to come for you another time. I will try to shorten it, but I have far too much to deal with these days. Dursley residence." And tossed the powder in. Harry was dimly aware of these things, but he was jerked back when that hateful body touched him again, picked him up and dropped him in. 

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