Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

I Don't Think You're a Waste of Space	By : SparklySprinkles Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Dudley/Harry Views: 10089 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Fictional story based on fictional characters. I own nothing of Harry Potter, and make no money.

Chapter List
- 1-chapter one
- 2-Chapter Two
- 3-Chapter Three
- 4-four
- 5-five
- 6-six
- 7-seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-nine
- 10-ten
- 11-eleven
- 12-twelve
- 13-thirteen
- 14-fourteen
- 15-fifteen
- 16-sixteen
- 17-seventeen
- 18-eighteen
- 19-nineteen
- 20-twenty
- 21-twenny one
- 22-twenny two
- 23-twenty three
- 24-twenty four
- 25-one more to go!
- 26-the end (26)
- 11
- 12
- 13
They flooed back to the Dursley's, and Harry stood still in the living room, nearly shaking as Uncle Vernon gathered up his wife and son and very haltingly tried to explain a night away to them, while ushering them ever closer to the fireplace. Dudley stared at Harry as he was guided through the room, and knew something was up.
   "What's he gonna do to him?"
   "What?"
   "What's going on Dad? What're you gonna do to Harry?
   "Harry is my business, not yours. Go."
   LeStrange sidled in, and smiling, said, "it's nothing terrible, I can assure you. Your father simply wants your home redone but more fitting with the times. All magical appliances and furniture. And you'll see what I mean the moment you step through, and see my home. He wants your mother to take some inspiration from the set up there, and come back with ideas for here. And how to enlarge any of the rooms she may want to. You'll see. It's all quite regular business."
   "Oh. Well, that sounds lovely, Dudders, doesn't it?" She didn't so much sound convinced, as she sounded like a woman with more forbearance than her husband deserved. She would play along, mostly, it seemed, to get Dudley the hell away from there. Which was fine with Harry. He could make up a million lies about this tomorrow, when he would need to.
   She pulled him, but he was still looking at Harry, who looked up finally and nodded. Dudley scowled and was pulled through, as LeStrange said the words, and they disappeared.
   Harry was left alone with his master, and he knew it was his last chance. He got on his knees in front of the man, desperate. "Please," he whispered. "Please, don't do this. I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want, I swear. I'll change, Uncle Vernon. I can do what you want. Don't let this happen."
   "Be quiet, boy. I won't let him hurt you." And Harry had never thought he would.
   "Yes, Master," he whispered. A hand stroked his face, and he didn't pull away, just to show how good he could be. He even turned his face into the hand thinking he could do a little more.
   Uncle Vernon hummed appreciatively. "Very good, boy. You like being good for me, don't you?"
   Harry nodded feverishly.
   "Well, none of your sappy business for this fellow. Don't go making him think I've been mean to you either. Because I haven't."
   "Yes, Master."
LeStrange came back, smiling widely.
   "Mmm. Very nice. They're quite well taken care of. House elves to see to their needs, and I gave them a lovely room for the night." Vernon nodded as though he'd never thought of them sleeping there. Hadn't thought of anything really, beyond what the man had promised. "So, I've brought some wine. Very good stuff. You have glasses?"
   Vernon nodded. "I'll get them. Stay here."
   Like the man would have done otherwise. "Stand up, Harry." He shook his head and stayed there. He didn't enjoy the thought of being on his knees here, before this man, but if he wanted Harry standing, then this had to be the better option. Options. Stupid. Uncle Vernon came back with three glasses, and Harry was handed one when it was filled.
   "Drink, Harry, it'll help, I promise." Harry shook his head.
   "Drink, Boy."
   "Yes, Master." He emptied the glass and stayed there, on the rug, clutching it.
   "Don't want the man thinking we're ungracious, do we?" Harry shook his head, more at the absurdity of trying to keep up appearances in such an unreal situation.
   LeStrange looked about the room and said to Uncle Vernon, "I do hope you'll excuse me," and transfigured the sofa into a bed. Harry jumped up and backed away.
   Uncle Vernon squawked indignantly. "What the blasted hell have you done to my furniture?"
   "It was presumptuous of me, but I felt that-"
   "You're damned right it was presumptuous! He has a bed. Just so you know. So you can go and fix my god damned sofa right now."
   Harry stared at his uncle, and wished he could tell him what he was dealing with, because the man had no idea. LeStrange didn't miss a beat, though, and smiled apologetically. "Of course, Mr. Dursley." He fixed it, and waited to be led. "For an evening with the illustrious Harry Potter, I'd do just about anything. If he had been for the taking, and I hope you don't mind my saying so, but I would have put my hand up." He shook his head at life's random mischances. "And now I've found myself in the unfortunate circumstance of being left with my little woman at home. Don't really know what to even do with such a dainty thing." He smiled richly at Harry as he said it, and Harry kept his eyes down.
   "Upstairs, boy."
   "Yes, Master."
   Harry lingered at the doorway of his room, keeping a foot in the hall, because he wasn't allowed clothing in his room, and he didn't want to just walk in his room and strip for this bloody bastard. And he would have to. From his almost distance he scanned his room, seeing, like he rarely did, because there was someone strange entering it. It was disgusting. His bed was a quiltwork of stains. The lube, at his side table. The nearly complete lack of clothing anywhere. The ragged blanket bunched up at the foot. Everything. There was an odour, as well. Stale sweat and shame and other excretions.
   "Ah good, you have some lubricant already. I didn't want to be indelicate about any of this. But one never knows." Uncle Vernon grunted. He was terribly curious about all this, but not so much interested in LeStrange, as a man, a member of the human race. LeStrange looked around the room, taking in everything. "Doesn't look very lived in. May I make a few small, very small changes?" Uncle Vernon frowned at him, like he would start painting the walls pink or something, and gave a short begrudging nod. "Wonderful. I just need somethings I can transfigure." He looked about and rested his eyes on Harry's shirt in a rumpled mess on the floor, and he went for it.
   Harry jumped on it before he could touch it. "It's mine!" And nearly all he had. He couldn't lose it. He clutched it and backed up for the doorway again. LeStrange watched him with an unmoving face, then shrugged.
   "Would you be so kind, then, as to find me some things, worthless enough," his eyes flicked down to the shirt in Harry's hands, "that I can turn into other things?"
   Harry shook his head. "Go, boy. Be quick."
   "Yes, Master." And Harry left the room, and ran down the stairs, breathing easier for being out of the room. He paused at the bottom, right in front of the front door.
   Did he dare? It would be his one shot, and then what? He would be a sickened mess in a week without his uncle. He needed the man, much as it killed him. But what was happening upstairs was too much for him. He reached out and touched the knob. He could touch it.
   He swallowed and licked dry lips, then heard the creak of wood above. He turned and saw his uncle, watching with slitted eyes. "What are you doing?"
   "Just - I don't know."
   "Go, get him the rubbish he wants, and come right back."
   "Yes, Master."
   "Harry." He stopped and looked up at him. "Never touch that door."
   "Yes, Master." Harry ran to the kitchen and pulled some papers out of the rubbish before the man could rethink his wording. Harry didn't stop to look at anything else, and threw his precious shirt in the cupboard on his way back upstairs. He could have lost it all then. But he hadn't. He still had the option. Riddle had said he could leave the house, and Harry didn't need the front door to do that.
   He came into the room and handed the stuff to LeStrange without looking at him, and stood by the door, foot still just outside. Their guest then went about, and turned one into a large lounging chair right beside the bed, and made a table. He stood back and gestured to it like he might be the host here. Vernon stared, then sat in it, still suspicious as though it might bite him. But he was warming up to this.
   Then a large mirror was made, and fixed to the ceiling. Harry stared at that, feeling it in his gut. It earned a grunt from the man in the chair, but that could have meant anything. Another table was made, and LeStrange pulled out a tiny suitcase from his pocket, brought it to normal size, and set it down. Opened it, and displayed an assortment of potions and other things Harry tried not to look at too closely.
   LeStrange shook his head then and laughed. "I apologize if I'm making too much of this, but I have quite the dry spell ahead of me. Not that I am a stranger to such." His voice had darkened for that, but lifted back up again. "You don't know how much this means to me, really Dursley. I'm deeply in your debt." Uncle Vernon nodded. But he was eyeing the case like it might warrant watching. "I assure you, these are all just toys." Harry didn't know what kind of assurance that was supposed to be. It wasn't much. "I'm afraid that I have to ask for one more thing, though. Some obedience from Harry. You can limit it with time if you'd like, to be more comfortable with it, that is."
   "Of course. Boy, you do whatever he says for the next half hour."
   "Yes, Master."
   Lestrange laughed like it was funny. "That's more than generous. Thank you." He looked at Harry, who was by the door, still as stone, then came up to him. He ran a finger along the green roses at the top of Harry's ... clothes. "I've been wanting to undress you all night. You think these matched your eyes by mistake?" He pulled Harry into the room and spoke low in his ear, grating soft flesh with his coarse beard. "Turn around for me, please." The please didn't diminish the compulsion, and Harry faced the hallway.
   LeStrange unfastened it with deft fingers, and stroked down his shoulders and lower to make it all drop at Harry's feet. Much as he didn't want to be wearing that ridiculous thing, he certainly didn't want to be naked. And especially in this room with these cannibals. "Come, Harry. Lay down." Harry felt the pull and followed it, and put himself face down in the bed, trying to cling to one small thing he might be able to dictate. LeStrange pulled him about, facing upwards, facing the absurd mirror, and knelt over him.
   "I hope I may call you Harry, as I've been doing it most of the evening. Let's have that ... half hour, shall we?" He smiled and draped himself over Harry and ran his hands over his body, almost reverently. Harry turned turned away, not enjoying the mirror above, and looked at his uncle. The man seemed rapt, but what he was feeling, Harry couldn't tell. It was a noisy storm. At any point the man could start screaming about sissies. Harry was expecting him to, in fact. A guy could hope.
   This man, this devoted death eater, ran his face over Harry's chest and sucked a nipple into his mouth, sucked and squeezed it between his lips and gnawed lightly a bit, then laved over it. Harry had to look away from his uncle, done with what he thought. Just half an hour; he could ignore this. As much as possible. The man went on to the other nipple, leaving the first to cool in the air and stroked Harry's thighs lightly as he went. He mouthed his way to Harry's navel, painstakingly slowly, running his teeth along places and leaving pebbling skin in his wake.
   He worked lower, breathed over Harry's cock, then just as Harry had tensed for it, he passed over it, to Harry's thighs. He kissed flesh and sucked on it, settled in like this had been his destination, and Harry watched in the mirror. This man was playing with him. He snuck a look at Uncle Vernon, who had a faint look of disgust painted on his face, but it was painted. Harry could feel it. His uncle was incredulous, perhaps that this was how a man would spend his time, Harry didn't know.
   When a hand trailed back up and cupped his balls Harry jumped, then stilled himself again. LeStrange laughed over his dampened flesh, but he was more than gentle, rolling the sack with intent, and more of that reverence that he'd shown before. Harry could feel his prick enter the scene, gathering blood it had no right to.
   Then he lowered his mouth about his dick and Harry dove his ass back into the bed, but LeStrange followed, leaving him with nowhere to go but down his hot throat. Harry felt him swallow along his length, and more blood left him for the scene between his legs. The man gave a few fervent bobs, taking all of him every time, and moaned around him. Harry kept his eyes on the ceiling, breathing deep through his nose and keeping his mouth shut.
   LeStrange tightened his hold of Harry's thigh and slowed down, lifting his face off him. He rose up and reached for the lube, and Harry felt relief that perhaps it would end soon if the man was ... getting to business. He sat back upon his heels between Harry's legs and placed a finger on the outside of Harry's back entrance, but didn't shove it in. He played, instead, circling and taking his time again. Then, slowly, almost carefully, he slid a bit inside.
   Harry almost relaxed when he saw there wouldn't be the shock of invasion, but he remembered what this was. What LeStrange was intending. "Well, you're not as tight as I thought you would be. Well used, it would appear." He sounded delighted and pulled his finger out to put two inside him. Harry stayed still, impatient for the end. The fingers worked their way in, invading and tunneling where fingers shouldn't be, prodding as they went, until they found what Uncle Vernon had grazed a scant few times. Harry froze in place, hoping the man would pass it and keep doing whatever the hell he was doing, but the fingers stayed there, poking, rubbing, until the muscles in his thighs were twitching against LeStrange's grip there.
   LeStrange hummed and kept working that spot, and Harry swallowed a small panic as he started tapping his fingers against it. Harry was growing desperate, and he met the man's eyes. LeStrange was smiling at him, like he knew just what he was doing. Not some accidental blundering, like his uncle. Harry evened his breathing, and moved himself about to avoid it.
   "Dursley, come here, please." Said Dursley rose from his seat and edged over. "Get closer, man. You'll love this. I wouldn't steer you wrong. Get between his legs, and get your fingers inside him. About this far." He showed him on his own, the depth, like a doctor, with the fingers he'd just pulled out of Harry's arse.
   "My fingers?"
   "Yes, of course your fingers." His other hand never left Harry's thigh. Harry watched, horrified. His uncle didn't need this kind of help. "About this far in, you'll feel a little bunched up bit. Go on."
   Harry flinched slightly as fingers came at him again. "Please, just stop this."
   His uncle looked at him quickly, but followed the orders no matter his thoughts, and bluntly shoved them up him. The fingers were inside, looking about. Harry closed his eyes, and very determinedly tried not to give any signs when the his uncle found it. But the muscles in his thighs were enough for LeStrange.
   "There. You found it. Go on and give it everything you have."
   His uncle grunted in answer, and Harry kept his eyes shut as his uncle prodded like he was trying to discover the very nature of something, trying to dig out Harry's secrets, as he abused the spot over and over. "What do I do with it?"
   "What ever you want. There are no wrong answers; you own him. You could poke it, circle your finger, tap on it, pardon me," he leaned over Uncle Vernon, who pulled away a bit. Another man, touching him in such a moment? That might have been too much to ask. LeStrange touched Uncle Vernon's elbow, and immediately a shock flew from Uncle Vernon's finger into Harry, and he yelped, and threw his hips up and away. He sent another one, through Harry's uncle, and Harry writhed on the bed. He shouted for the third. "Whatever you think of. You know, he could cum just from that alone?"
   "You don't say," in a breathy way that Harry was uncomfortably accustomed to. Harry could feel the man's rat eyes glowing as LeStrange gave him a little distance and his fingers went back to stroking. And he could also feel that what LeStrange had said was true, as well. He could cum from this. Could have cum from the other, too.
   He panted as he tried to control himself. "Why? Isn't what you do already bad enough? Why would you need to make me do things, too?"
   "Easy, boy. Just go with it for once."
   "Yes, Master." But he did, every time, already. How could his uncle be demanding more? He stopped trying to avoid the fingers inside, telling himself that it had been pretty pointless.
   "I approve of the way you handle him, Dursley. You run a tight ship."
   His uncle grunted noncommittally, but Harry could feel he was happy to hear the words. It was vindication for him. For Uncle Vernon it had been a good night, all in all.
   Harry yelped when he felt a mouth, a tongue lick him from root to tip, and he writhed away from the next, opening his eyes and unable to look away. LeStrange was lapping at him, then a hand went back to play with one of Harry's nipples, squeezing in time with his licks.
   He looked up at his uncle in a panic, but Uncle Vernon was staring back at him, then at his fingers inside him. Harry knew that look. The man was enjoying himself. "Please." He could feel it, building in his gut, his arse and his dick. He would embarrass himself if it went on for much longer. Then LeStrange pulled off him, letting cool air surround his member, but his uncle was still going at that spot, and Harry was nearly blinded by it all. His thighs squeezed his uncle's arm, and he was doing everything he could to not use that hold to ride it. And then just before he hit the cliff, LeStrange's voice crashed over it all. "Stop, now." His voice was different that time, not diffident at all, but commanding, arresting.
   Uncle Vernon looked up like he was also being called back to the present, and stopped, pulled his fingers out. Harry breathed and felt his pulse slow from roaring to an angry heavy thud. LeStrange went to his wine and took a long pull, then refilled glasses that might have been depleted. He brought Harry his, and Harry knocked it back. This was going to be a long night. LeStrange watched Harry take it without a complaint, and laughed softly to himself.
   "You think you know what's coming, Harry?"
   Harry wisely said nothing. If that was a challenge, Harry wasn't going to give anything.
   "I wouldn't be averse, and this is just 'putting it out there' so to speak, Harry, but I wouldn't say no to you having a go at me tonight, if you wanted." Harry stared at him. He was mad. "If you wanted to get some back, you know?" Harry didn't know. He looked away. "I'm sure you have plenty of anger to exercise. In the end, it's what won over my Ronald, I think." He didn't want to hear this. "I gave him some freedom, the opportunity to get back at me, and he did. He was ... merciless." The word came out like it had been the gates to heaven.
   He came back to Harry then and took his glass, "I was limping the next day," set it on the table and got on the bed. "But then, so was he. Get on your knees, Harry, right in front of your master." He gave it enough of an inflection that if Harry was desperate enough he could tell himself that it had been a question, but his body obeyed. His half hour wasn't up yet. He needed a clock in this room.
   He knelt on the bed, and tried not to look at his uncle. LeStrange followed, and got behind him, caressed his arse and put his fingers back inside, taking his time and spreading his attention everywhere. He chewed on Harry's ear and neck, wiry hair tickling, as his fingers took on a life of their own and made Harry jump at times.
   LeStrange pulled his fingers out finally, and replaced them with his dick, sliding in slowly, and nothing hurt, it wasn't even uncomfortable. It was almost nice, until a beard and a deep sigh came at his ear. A hand went back around Harry to his thigh, like it was LeStrange's little telegraph, and he kept it there, holding or taking his pulse, Harry didn't know. But the man's wrist was brushing his cock every stroke, breaking Harry's concentration on not being here for this. He clamped his eyes shut, partly to go away and partly so he wouldn't look at Uncle Vernon by accident.
   Then, when LeStrange was fully seated in him, he gave some deep slow thrusts that each ended by grinding into that same spot, until Harry was breathing hard. Then he stopped moving. He stroked Harry's back and pulled him back against him. "Harry. Now. Make yourself cum on me." Harry reached for his dick, trying to not think, and LeStrange grabbed his hand. "No. Just using my cock, make yourself cum." Harry moaned, not for the reasons they probably thought, and moved quick. He had to obey, and he needed it over. He could make it over.
   He had to find the angle himself, but he knew where it was; he'd done enough of avoiding it, and he had the reminders of moments ago, if he'd forgotten, and he plunged back onto the man behind him, until each one had him seeing flashes. He was gasping and making worse noises, but nothing too loud. Nothing he couldn't live with, he hoped. And if he twisted his hips right he could get a little friction on the man's wrist, so he used that a bit. "Look at your master." Harry shook his head, feeling that the half hour was up, and slowing.
   "Look at me, boy."
   "Yes, Master!" His uncle was staring, hungry and nearly drooling. He was stroking himself in his robes.
   "I fear I may need just a hair more than a half hour, Dursley."
   "Yeah. Right. Boy, you do whatever he says tonight."
   "Yes, Master." So much for that little hope.
   "Keep going, Harry." And Harry kept working himself on him, until he felt the tightness build up, and kept his eyes on his uncle. LeStrange growled behind him and gripped his hair, shoved him so he had to plant his hands on his uncle's thighs to not fall on him. "Beg your master to let you cum."
   Uncle Vernon's fist sped up, and Harry hoped he would finish himself off before he came at Harry for any of it. "Please, Master, may I cum?"
   His uncle grabbed Harry's face with his free hand. "Of course. Always, Harry. Cum."
   "Yes, Master," and he followed the order, but because he'd been on the verge. And still LeStrange pounded, wringing it out of him, getting every drop that came out and landed on Uncle Vernon's feet and the floor. The pounding slowed, and Harry hoped it was over, as he stilled and his blood slowly followed.
   "Very good, Harry."
   "I wish you'd call me Potter."
   LeStrange laughed at him, and held him close, but barely moved inside, with hands grasping Harry's hips, then they wrapped about his waist tight. "Whatever you wish, of course, Potter." He moved, lifted his legs off the bed, and Uncle Vernon shifted himself so they wouldn't touch. LeStrange worked with it, until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, with Harry on his lap, still stuffed. He gasped as he was pulled in again, and edged about a bit to change to the angle as much as he could. It was a lot closer this way.
   "Just move a little, Ha- Potter, please. Just enough to keep me hard for now." Harry moved, little bits that were enough to say he was obeying. "Look at the case there," and pointed further up by the bed, where he'd set the case open. "I would like you to look at the potions, Harry, and choose one for your uncle to use on you."
   "On him?"
   Harry was already looking them over. "What do they do?" He sounded hopeless.
   "They all have different purposes. That one, the pink one, gives the drinker a bigger prick. The yellow one beside it makes it vibrate. The light blue one will make it huge. And the dark blue will make it twist about inside."
   "I don't think I like the idea of changing myself like that."
   "Well, perhaps if I did something that would change your mind?" Harry wondered if LeStrange was threatening to use the imperius curse on his uncle. "When's the last time you actually saw your cock go inside something, Dursley?"
   The man didn't answer, and LeStrange continued. "I could make your gut disappear, for an hour, or longer if you clear your schedule for tomorrow, but I get the feeling you would prefer something temporary. And you could watch this lovely mouth of his wrap itself around you. His arse swallow you. It's truly the most beautiful sight in the world, and no man should be deprived of it."
   His hands got distracted on Harry's body, and he closed Harry's legs together with an arm as he thrust into him, slow and deep, and Harry was pulling up, trying to get him more shallow. It was an unfortunate angle that hit deeper. LeStrange seemed to lose himself for a couple moments of pets and deliberate thrusts then he brought himself back. "Just an hour, then, Dursley?"
   The man nodded, staring. At him. Like it was his fault. Harry was still fairly distracted with LeStrange's hands and prick, but he still watched Uncle Vernon getting sucked into himself, like the bulk was being stored inside somewhere, in compact form. And then, with some uncomfortable sounding grunts, Uncle Vernon was possibly ten stone thinner, in a moment, and staring down at his prick, still jutting out from his tent of dress robes. Harry wondered when he'd seen it last, but it was a weak thought. Uncle Vernon was playing along far too well tonight. He rose and stood over Harry, who still stared up, just too taken off guard by his uncle so far. This man was supposed to have a script. And he'd veered away from it.
   "I think you should suck on your master's cock, Potter." He didn't have a command to do it, but he knew he was supposed to, either way. Why else would Uncle Vernon have stood? He leaned forward and sucked it in, brought up a hand to hold him, and bobbed his head.
   "I want you to look at me, Harry." He looked up, quick to obey, and felt his uncle's eyes on him like never before. His hands were clutching at his head, torn between pulling on him, and just petting him, and he switched quickly between the two.
   "Beautiful." Harry swallowed his cringe, but he didn't think Uncle Vernon was actually calling him beautiful - just the act. Hopefully.
   LeStrange leaned over, keeping an arm about Harry, and took one of the potions and drank it. A second later his dick began to vibrate inside Harry's arse. Harry choked out a thick moan over his uncle's dick, diving back on the cock, pressing himself into LeStrange before he could stop himself. His thighs shook in the man's lap, and he ground his legs together, and shot up from how that changed everything, moaning again. His teeth were shaking from it, and his eyes rolled back.
   "Ask your master if you may touch yourself."
   He pulled his face off his uncle's dick. He hadn't been doing much for it, besides drool slack jawed for thrusts, and let it drip spit over his hand as he asked if he could touch himself. Uncle Vernon nodded, still holding his face. Harry grabbed himself and pulled, nearly frantic that he wanted some release and that it could happen, but it shouldn't be. The cock was shoved back in his mouth, and he sucked on it while he fisted himself and was cuming before either of them, shaking on LeStrange's vibrating dick, and shouting around his uncle's.
   Uncle Vernon blew then, holding his head tight, thrusting into him, crying out. And Harry swallowed his uncle's mess and groaned tiredly about everything until LeStrange muttered a spell to end the rumbling coming from his prick. Harry sank back on it in relief, not really caring that it was brought deeper from that move, just that it no longer tumbled his innards.
   "Well. I was about to say don't spend it all in one place, but I brought something for that, too."
   "Hmm?" His uncle looked away from Harry and slowed with a foggy head. "Right. What?"     "I brought potions in case you ... run out of steam. Harry pick one."
   Harry turned back to the case, looked them over again. "What does the black one do?" It looked rather mean, and he hoped it might just kill them all.
   "Oh, you probably don't want that one. It ... It's very strong, Ha- I mean, Potter. It would turn you into an absolute slut."
   "What?" Uncle Vernon reentered the conversation from his seat on the chair, and Harry's shoulders rose.
   "Don't feel limited to just one, either. I would recommend the vibrating and enlarging ones, myself. They've never let me down before, and I think Harry would thank you for it."
   "What kind of slut?"
   "The best kind, of course."
   "And which one lets me go again?"
   LeStrange chuckled into Harry's ear. "The yellowish green one. Just knock it back." Uncle Vernon came over to it, out of habit leaning over bulk that didn't exist right then, and picked it out. Harry watched, silent. How was this happening?
   "And he just drinks the black one, yeah?"
   "Yes."
   "Please, Uncle Vernon. You're drinking potion. Having me drink potions! Stop, please. It's not natural! It could do something to you!"
   The man looked at him like he had a point, and Harry waited, hoping. Then he shook his head. He looked over the little bottles again, and pulled out two, handing the black one to Harry. LeStrange reached for it, and uncorked it as Uncle Vernon watched every move with eyes that seemed afraid to miss anything. Harry wished he'd never asked about it, but it had looked promisingly sinister. And it was, just in the wrong way.
   LeStrange moved a hand up Harry's front, to his neck and held him, tilted his chin back and brought it to his lips, then poured. It tasted deceivingly sweet. "Swallow it all, Potter."
   But he hadn't thought it would be possible not to, either way. As soon as his uncle had heard the word slut, it had been over.
   It attacked him like the Imperius Curse, and Harry fought it. It was a little stronger, but he could keep it back, and he heard voices behind and in front of him. He couldn't make it out until his Master said "Stop fighting it, boy," and it cut through everything, the terror, the shame and the fight, leaving nothing but the command.
   "Yes, Master," he heard and felt himself say, and let the fog wash over him. In the last moment of it, the terror melted away, and was consumed by a comforting greyness that was everything and as inobtrusive as room temperature.
   "I think I'm done with you for a while, Potter. Go see your master."
   Harry crawled from one lap to the other, feeling empty the instant he lost one cock, but his Master was hard, watching him and stroking himself. Harry put his hand on the man, knowing he would never be turned down. This man would give him everything in any way he asked. All he had to do was ask. And he was rewarded with a happy groan and hips bucking up into his grip. Arms pulled him in, where he was always welcome, and he planted his legs about his thighs, already grinding against him.
    His Master groaned again and picked him up and carried him to the bed, a step away, and laid him down. Harry wrapped his legs around him, so he wouldn't lose him.
   He fucked him like that, pounding furiously, and Harry ran his hands along his body, until he found the man's hips and pulled him in and pushed him away, to help the thrusts, and lost himself in the pleasure of being filled, being absolutely slammed by his Master. And the man's pleasure, his happiness from it all wrapped Harry in a warm blanket that he never wanted to lose.
   He gave up his hold on his uncle's thighs and grabbed his shoulders, so he had a hold he could use to rock into the man, until Uncle Vernon pulled up and out. "Suck me off again, boy."
   "Yes, Master," and he dove on him, sticking his arse in the air, just so his Master wouldn't forget it was there. And it worked, as a hand stroked him, dipped between his cheeks and fingers sank inside. Harry moaned about the cock, and he was directed by the fingers as he fucked them, too. He gripped his Master's cock by the base and jerked as he sucked, spreading his licks all about the head and the rim. And when he couldn't take it anymore he pulled his face off and looked up. "Please, Master, I need you inside again. Please."
   "Oh god, Harry. Anything," and he pulled his fingers out. "Turn around."
   "Yes, Master," he almost sang, and stayed on his knees, but spun about. The fingers had been nice, but they weren't a cock. His Master shoved inside so quick he nearly lost his balance and had to lean on the bed, thrusting harsh over him.
   "Like this, Harry?"
   "Yes, Master, thank you!"
   A moan and a slower thrust that reached deeper inside, took its time and filled him better, and Harry was grinding back onto him, relishing in the plunge fully. His uncle grabbed Harry's arms and used them to pull him back on him, thrusting almost brutally, but it was only wonderful, and Harry was meeting every one as much as he could.
   "Please, may I touch myself?"
   "Of course, Harry." He grunted as he pounded him, and let go. Harry's face hit the mattress, and he reached down to grab his painfully hard dick with urgency as he kept his arse in the air for his Master. "You gonna cum?" Harry nodded. "You gonna cum with me fucking you like this?" Harry nodded again, fisting himself frantically. How could it feel this good and not end? He kept trying, until he had to slow, just out of energy.
   He was grabbed and pulled back, and up, until he was leaning back on his Master. He laid his head back on the shoulder, spent before he could even cum and looked up, where he got a top view of his uncle fucking him frantically. "You want me to do it for you?"
   Harry groaned and almost came right there. He nodded weakly into his Master's neck. "Uh huh." His uncle grabbed him and fisted him just as quickly as Harry had been doing, and it wasn't more than a few strokes before he was cuming, shouting into his Master and clenching everything. Not much could have come out, but he wasn't worried about it. It felt amazing, better than the other ones, better than any orgasm he'd ever had in his life, and all strength left him while he was still spasming through it. The hand kept going, helping him ride every bit of pleasure; he went limp against his uncle, and the man slowed a bit, holding him softly again, stroking lightly. "God, Harry. Are you liking this?"
   "I love this."
   His uncle whimpered and laid him down, fucked into him slowly. "You love this?"
   "Yes, more," he mumbled into the bedding, wishing he could move for it, show how much he wanted it.
   "You love it?"
   "I do."
   "I want you to say it."
   "I love it."
   "I love you, Harry."
   "I love you, too, Uncle Vernon."
   "Really?"
   "I always loved you." For such simple words, they hurt to say, but Harry blinked it away. It didn't matter right then. All that mattered was that the man not pull out of him. Uncle Vernon gripped his hair and pulled his head back so he could cover his mouth with his own, moaning as he tried to get ever deeper.
   He mouthed every bit of Harry he could cover, and stroked his face where his mouth couldn't reach. Then he pulled himself out, and Harry cried out, tried to follow with his arse to get it back, but he was flipped onto his back. He understood then, and lifted his legs, grasped them by his head so he might get every inch his uncle was going to give him. The man grabbed his ankles and spread his legs further as he lowered himself, and smothered Harry's face some more with his mouth and Harry hungrily sucked at him when he shoved his tongue inside. Harry gripped his face so he wouldn't pull it away, and Uncle Vernon moaned some more.
   It was nearly impossible to breathe like this, but he didn't need much air, his uncle was doing all the work. All Harry had to do was accept this bliss. And it grew, built until Uncle Vernon was pounding and shouting, and filling him with heat and happiness.
   His uncle rolled off and collapsed beside him, breathless. "Harry, come here."
   "Yes, Master."
   Arms opened and he crawled up close to the man, and he was pulled in tight, held still. "Why can't you be like that all the time?"
   Harry shook his head. "I don't know." But he wished he could be, too. No thought, no fights, just pleasure. And pets afterwards. "I'm sorry." He knew how he could show that, and threw a leg over his uncle and started to rut against him. Put his hand on his uncle's spent prick and kissed his shoulder, the closest bit of flesh to his mouth and was rewarded with another wonderful groan.
   "What, you want me to take another of those potions?"
   "Oh, yes, please." He ground against him fiercer, so the man would know he needed it. He was hard again, himself, though he couldn't have anything left in his balls.
   "You're going to kill me."
   "How about you give your master a break, Harry? And come over here. I have some cock for you." Harry's head lifted at that, and he came over, crawling and eager, to the edge of the bed where the man stood. "Where would you like it?"
   "Anywhere."
   "Good. I would like to see you lick me a bit." Harry nodded and went for it. He felt Uncle Vernon behind shift a bit, but kept at this prick, since it had more life in it for him. "Just licks, though." Harry nodded. He could do that. He licked long strokes from the base to the tip, and curled his tongue about it as he did so, and did it over and over, until he looked up and saw a gentle face with kind eyes watching him.
   A hand on his arse let him know Uncle Vernon was still watching, and approved of him. He wiggled it about for him, but kept applying himself to this prick, until he was stopped. "Good, but that's enough. Here, have another drink." Harry emptied the glass again and handed it back and gave a few more licks. "I want you to ride me. Well." Harry nodded, grazing his cheek along the dick at his mouth, and backed off, and waited for this man to lie down so he could, then he was on him, and impaling himself in seconds, moaning already for the sweet sore feeling of being filled again, and finally. He'd been empty for so long. He rolled his hips and moved in circles, anything to get it everywhere inside him.
   Hands roamed his chest and played with his nipples, squeezing and pinching lightly in time to thrusts, and everything thrummed in a rhythm that echoed in his prick sliding against this lovely body beneath him.
   He built up speed until he was nothing but the pounding, and the reception of it, and his dick that reverberated everything, every sheet of light that blinded him, until he came, shouting, shaking and clenching everything, as every body part was in this. Everything turned from blinding white to heavy black, and he collapsed.
   He woke, on top of a warm body, under hands alive over him. Soft strokes and a dick still in his arse, still hard. And he remembered everything being wonderful. Happy that something was still inside him, he clenched his arse about it, so it would know he was there, and willing, if it could just wait until he could start moving again. He made some weak little sounds and moved until he had the strength to lift himself a little, still grinding on this body. Hands gripped his face and tilted him upwards, and he followed, looking up. Lips came at him, and for some unknown reason, one hiding behind a wall of thick fog, he ducked them, hid his face in the neck right there. And if he suckled at the hairy flesh there, perhaps he would be forgiven a small crime. And he was, as the man beneath moaned and held him there.
   The hands on him petted and stroked and he forgot his infraction, completely taken again in the pleasures he was swimming in. He was aware of moaning loud and desperately, but it was fine. If it wasn't, the pets would surely have stopped.
   The body started to buck up into him, hitting him just right again, and he worked with it until his poor prick stiffened again like a hero. He arched in closer, and their bodies joined to form a place he could thrust into, giving him delicious almost burning friction where he could chase an orgasm that seemed like it just wouldn't come. But it still felt good to try.
   "Turn around, Harry. I want to watch your lovely arse for a while."
   He nodded. There were no bad ideas so long as he could get back on this prick. And he was quick about it, with help from the hands, sinking again nearly desperate for it, and ground when he sank again. Rolled about there, just to let his innards know they had it back. The toes at the end of the bed were curling - from the things he was doing to their body, and he grabbed the thighs for balance to get more of the reaction, speedup and give long plunges, as the hands had grabbed his arse and were directing more, spreading the cheeks.
   Harry arched back and looked up above and saw this man, rapt, moaning and watching his arse, meeting him. "Play with my balls, Harry." He reached down and touched them lightly, cupped them when another moan let him know to go on, and he played with them, rolling them and stroking. Squeezing where it was alright to do so. More curling of the toes, and the thighs beneath him began to twitch. Everything about this was different from this angle. Especially how this dick reaming inside him hit differently.
   The body rose, a pair of arms closed about his chest and stomach and pulled him back, and he went with it. This body was giving him nothing but goodness, and he laid back, splayed and loose. A hand closing about his cock and a deep thrust up into him had the sudden sensation of ice cold water shocking him, spiked with glowing hot knives stabbing him, and he screamed something, he didn't know, but he struggled against the hold suddenly. It was pain, all pain that stabbed on the inside, seared him, and he needed the space he'd always been trying futilely to put between him and it.
   But this was different; there was no cold laughter, the arms let him go, and he threw himself from the body, from the bed and hit the floor, gasping and panting. His fingers dug into the wood until he saw it was wood, not cold stone. This was his floor. His room. He looked up and saw faces, and knew who they were. His uncle of course. And Rabastan LeStrange. And everything had been so nice moments ago. But he was shaking by then, and couldn't stop it.
   "Harry?"
   He ran, and was in the hall by the time his uncle shouted to stop. Harry hit his knees and breathed out a tiny "Yes, Master," probably too quiet for them to hear.
   His uncle came out of his room and stood over Harry. "What the hell was that?" Harry huddled and covered his head. He didn't know what that was, all he knew was terror and the anticipation of the worst pain. "Did the potion wear off?" He didn't really know. "You go about shouting like that and the neighbours'll hear something."
   But the neighbours were dead.
   LeStrange came out. "Petrificus Totalus." Harry didn't understand why he could still move, until he saw his uncle was the one frozen. Harry looked up at LeStrange, as the man stooped over him, and picked him up. Then he was carried back into the bedroom, and stiffened everything. What would LeStrange do to him without his uncle, meager protection that the man had been?
   He was set down on the bed, and LeStrange followed, lying next to him. He tensed, pushing away from him. "Stay still, Harry. It's alright, I promise you. Don't look so terrified. You'd think I've been beating you all night." Harry's struggles stilled, as he'd been given orders. His face smoothed on its own, but it did nothing for the fear inside.
   "I - I think I would like some more of that potion."
   "I'm afraid I only brought the one. If taken too much it can cause serious lasting brain damage."
   Harry nodded. "Brain damage." Didn't seem so bad, really. He lived with plenty - he could live with that.
   "Was I hurting you?"
   "No." He looked away, towards the window. The chair where his uncle had been. A hand ran along his face softly, not intruding, just there.
   "What happened?"
   "I don't know. I think it was the position."
   "That's it? The position?" He sounded as though he didn't believe him, but Harry nodded. He could think a bit better, now. It had reminded him of Riddle, and how it had seemed like he'd been held like that, on top, forever, as he laughed at him. "Has he been hurting you?"
    Harry nodded, but kept his face away. LeStrange was silent, but stroking his face, almost comfortingly. It was very close to it. "It lasted for days."
   "That's terrible. I'll never understand how men can hurt the things they make love to." Harry looked at him, a quick thing that checked if this man was telling the truth. And what truth it might be, because it had the feel of one of the keys to everything, if he could just unravel it. "But I think that now he may be better? May appreciate the fact that you have a dick?" Harry nodded, more for the kind face than anything, then frowned. Was that right?
   "No. No, Uncle Vernon's not that bad." Not really. There were worse things than his uncle.
   "No, I didn't think he was a mean man when I met him. Just ungrateful. And a little stupid. Perhaps you'd prefer to have me, though?" Harry chewed on those words. In that moment, he would have taken it. And he wanted to reward the kindness he was being shown when he felt so frayed. He gave the ghost of a nod. LeStrange smiled broadly. "I would be so good to you, Harry. And you would be so appreciated." He stroked him some more. "And you would be with Ronald."
   "Ron?" Right. How could he have forgotten?
   "Ron. Yes." He came closer and ran his teeth along Harry's chin. "You could be together all the time. Just the thought of you two, playing like a couple of puppies in my bed, Harry," he rolled on him, still stroking, still mouthing his face in places.
   Harry shook his head. He didn't want that. A hand travelled down to his chest and played with a nipple, thumbing lightly, and LeStrange rutted against Harry like he was getting interested again. Harry was just so tired. How could this man not be? How long had he been at it for? But he'd shown kindness, or compassion, and before Harry could stop himself he choked the words out, "please, no more. Please, stop." He regretted the words on the instant, and swallowed what would have been more.
   The death eater stopped, pulled his face away and looked at him, studied his features like he might record them somewhere later. "Alright, Harry. I'll stop." Harry didn't believe that, and stared, waiting for more. "But I hope to be back. Soon. This whole night I've been doing more for your uncle, just to keep the door open. I think it is." He was serious. "I'm going to bring him back in here, and unfreeze him, after erasing just a few minutes for him. Give me a kiss, and I'll leave."
   Harry could do that. If it was a promise of departure, he could do it. He looked down at LeStrange's lips just before they closed the space and saw a tiny smile play along them. Then he was on him, soft and just a little moist, not the sloppy snogging of his uncle, but more delicate, more deliberate. His tongue darted out and licked along Harry's lower lip, and he sucked it into his mouth, chewing lightly and licking at it. Then it was over with another lick at Harry's lips; he raised up and off him.
   He brought Uncle Vernon back in and fixed him up, then went for his clothes, casual and fairly carefree for a man who hadn't gotten off.
   "Dursley, Potter, that was wonderful. I would love to come again some time. And perhaps, when mine is back up to snuff, I'll even bring him over. I still have another ..." He lifted his fingers and held a few up, counting. "Six months to go." He sighed heavily, as though he were truly put upon to have a knocked up slave man-child trapped in a girl's body. "Perhaps I'll have him lick you off me when I get home?"
   Harry sat up, terrified. "Please, don't do that. Please don't tell him. Please."
   "I'll think about it. You beg very prettily, harry."
   "You have a boy at home, and he's pregnant?
   "Yes." Harry could feel disgust warring with curiosity in his uncle, and only worried.
   "How's that?"
   "I have him temporarily female."
   "You can do that?"
   "Yes." The man paused and looked at Harry.
   "And they could make him," with a head jab at Harry, "a girl?" Then he was looking at Harry, thinking. "Why didn't they do that in the beginning, then?"
   "With Harry?"
   "Yeah. Of course."
   "Harry Potter?"
   "Yes, man. Of course with him. Why would they think I'd want a ... a boy?"
   "Because he's Harry Potter." He looked at said 'boy' with a disbelieving look. "Does he know nothing? Really?" He turned back to Uncle Vernon. "You really don't know what you have here? He's a one-of-a-kind. The Harry Potter. The second most famous person alive. Surely he's been mentioned on even your news?"
   "Right." Uncle Vernon went mute for a blessed time, and LeStrange took his leave, and promised Uncle Vernon his family back in the morning, when they woke.
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