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Possession	By : uqui Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 85531 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 12
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Possession

Chapter XX - A Dark Lord's Mercy

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Heprah was somewhat confused. When you were condemned to Azkaban to
receive the Dementor's Kiss, you were taken to the forsaken island and left
there and then the Dementors came and wasted no time in stripping your soul
from you. If were to be imprisoned, you were taken to the island and chained in
a cell and the black guards knew that they could only feed from your emotion.
He'd thought that by now, twenty days into his imprisonment on Azkaban that
it would be over but while the Dementors were approaching him, none had even
attempted to take his soul. They'd greeted his arrival jubilantly and he
shivered as he remembered their cold hands pressed against him as they had
escorted him into the ruins. Then they'd secured him to the stone slab he was
currently lying on and after that they had done nothing more. Occasionally one
would come by with some bread and water but that was the limit of their care
and their punishment so he was confused.
As he stared at the ceiling he could hear them talking, whispering to each
other in voices that sounded like the wind. They had been doing that a lot
lately. It almost seemed as if they were arguing. "Heh! Probably fighting
over the taste of greatness..." His voice cracked and he ran a dry tongue
over his lips as he pulled his finest memories close.
The boy... The Wizarding Worlds saviour. He was so sweet. And he was so
skilled. Heprah laughed as he considered what his peers would think if they
knew the truth... Their precious saviour was nothing more than a skilled little
whore who would spread his legs for whoever had the strength to take what they
wanted. Oh yes... He'd fight but his fight just made the claiming sweeter. With
that pale skin, cheery red lips and emerald eyes he was easily the most
beautiful boy Heprah had experienced and with the depth of magical power, he
had easily been the strongest. "And he is mine..."
Heprah paused as a Dementor approached him. It was larger than the rest and
as with all Dementors he could see nothing of its face. Ah... So they had
decided to take his soul. He smiled... It would be over now and as he licked
chapped lips again he recalled his first time with Harry. He would go out
thinking good thoughts.
"Wizzzarrrd..." A skeletal hand reached out and came to rest on
his chest creating a patch of icy coldness that competed with the growing
warmth from his groin.
"Get it over with," He snarled as he remembered licking creamy
white thighs slicked with his cum.
"Noo..." the wind voice sighed as other Dementors released his
bonds and grasped his hands and feet.
Harry was so tight and it was so good to pump into him but best of all was
watching those cheery lips swallow him and to feel that little tongue
flickering against him. He could remember that forever.
Another skeletal hand emerged from the robes and came to rest on his groin,
rubbing his growing erection and killing all thoughts of passion.
"Pleasure is not yours to have," the larger Dementor whispered before
Heprah screamed as something reached out, grabbing his magical power and
ripping it away from him. There was a swirl of nothingness much like apparation
and he was brought back to himself as he fell to the ground.
It was stone... But it wasn't a single slab like he had been lying on
before. He could feel the fine joins between pieces and he knew they had
shifted locations. He wasn't being restrained anymore but he felt weak and he
was surrounded by the five Dementors still. The Dementors had used his energy
to shift their locations. He sat up slowly, ignoring the way the black guards
seemed to be bowing at something.
He was in a large room. The ceiling was vaulted and heavy timber beams
supported everything. Torches hung from iron hooks and illuminated everything
in a smoky light but they did nothing to heat the air. It was cold. As cold as
Azkaban and Heprah knew the chill he was feeling wasn't only due to the
Dementors touch.
The wind was whispering still and he could hear a murmur of response to it.
Slowly he turned around but the Dementors blocked his view. The larger one had
stepped forward and around it Heprah could see that it was talking with someone
who was dressed in crimson robes. At length the larger Dementor bowed deeply
again and then stepped aside.
It wasn't possible... Heprah's weak blue eyes opened wide as he saw the
figure the Dementor had been talking with. It wasn't possible. Rich crimson
robes, burning red eyes, ivory skin, thick black hair and an aura of power that
bore down on everything. The Dark Lord Voldemort.
But perhaps this was the chance he had been looking for. The Dark Lord had
been killed by Potter, driven into a spirit form while at the height of his
power so surely he would understand the exquisite torture the boy had
experienced. Surely the Dark Lord would appreciate it and want to know more.
Heprah almost smiled. So that was why the Dementors hadn't touched him. They
wanted to please their Master by delivering unto him the one man who had dared
to strike at the Wizarding World's saviour.
"My Lord Voldemort," he smiled with a florid bow bravado in the
presence making him say the name he would not otherwise dare speak. "How
may I serve you?"
"Heprah."
He shivered. The Dementors had said his name but never with such cold
anticipation and even when they touched him compared to the Dark Lord's voice
they seemed warm.
"My Lord?" He reminded himself that he had done nothing against
Voldemort and managed to force the words out against the rising sense of
unease.
"It is amusing, is it not, the complete ineptitude of the Ministry? I
have been keeping them busy but I didn't not think I had been keeping them so
busy that they have let their checks on Azkaban lapse, did you?"
"It is an unexpected boon, My Lord," Heprah responded, relaxing
slightly as he realised the Dark Lord was feeling out his loyalties. Well, with
everything that had happened to him, they had not changed. As always they were
not to the Ministry and were only to himself but he was willing to compromise
them for the Dark Lord, especially since it looked like it would lead to
survival.
"Very unexpected but much appreciated," Voldemort agreed. "I
understand you were imprisoned because of a rather special case?"
"Special in the way they don't wish to acknowledge that I exist."
"Ah... I understand. I'm sure that various Ministries across the world
would like to disavow my existence," Voldemort murmured easily. "Tell
me about the case."
Heprah suppressed a tight smile. This was his chance. By the time he was
finished the Dark Lord himself would be thanking him for so effectively
punishing his enemy and he would be rewarded beyond his wildest dreams. "I
was condemned for and I quote 'spell casting on a minor without their consent
with intent to pervert the course of justice, violation of the protective wards
and child abuse.' Heh! This is one case where our system is inferior to the
Muggles'," Heprah spoke calmly, his voice betraying the confidence that
was winning over his unease.
"Child abuse is what we call it, but I enjoyed it vastly more than
simply beating the lad. I'm sure you would appreciate that there is only so far
one can go with physical torture before it becomes unsatisfying."
Voldemort nodded but said nothing. The man was... interesting in his own way
and he had no idea just how doomed he was. The Dark Lord had been prepared to
let him suffer the Dementor's Kiss and leave it at that out of misplaced mercy
since Harry would know that a Dementor's Kiss for a Wizard was the worst
punishment possible but then the Dementors hadn't Kissed him. In fact they had
brought Heprah before him, using the wizard to reassure the Dark Lord of their
loyalty. A gift as it were. A single soul they would refrain from consuming to
allow him the greater pleasure of destruction.
"He was begging for it," Heprah continued. "With those eyes
and that hot little body he was just begging anyone for it so what was I to do?
His Muggle Uncle was just raking it in although I know he enjoyed a good workout
with the colt too. But with that wife and son... Anything would be more
appealing."
"Oh..?" Voldemort forced himself to sound interested and
unknowing. "Who was the frisky filly?"
"Ah... An excellent term, My Lord. He was frisky and he was so horny!
He was so sweet, I could just fuck him forever. Those lips, those eyes, that
body... it's to die for. If Gryffindor looked anything like his Heir he wasn't
the strongest of the Hogwarts Four, he just seduced the others into submission.
And that Harry..."
"Harry? Harry Potter?" It was almost impossible to control the
urge to curse the man where he stood but the Dark Lord harnessed his impulses
as he spoke the name in an almost reverent tone.
"Yeah," Heprah confirmed. "Harry Potter. The little whore was
so sweet, so tight and so hot. It was like fucking a virgin every time. Three,
four times a go and he still felt like a virgin. He was so good."
"Heprah," Voldemort interrupted the wizards reminiscing. The man
was actually getting excited just thinking about Harry and his aura was flaring
as he imagined fucking Harry again. "There are many people who come into
my service. Some bring wealth, some bring experience and some come to me
because they know I speak the truth. But no matter what they bring and why they
come they all seek my favour and my attention so you should be proud of
yourself, Heprah. You have my undivided attention."
"My Lord!"
The Dark Lord smiled, a chill smile that spoke volumes. "And you have
the full extent of my power directed towards you." With an idle flick of
his wand he summoned several beings to the room.
Heprah watched with wide eyes as several tortured Muggles appeared in the
room. He didn't understand. What did the Dark Lord want with Muggles and why
should he bring them here now? Unless Voldemort wanted him to kill them or
something..? A final test perhaps... "My Lord, I don't understand."
Crimson eyes bore into him. "Look closer," he instructed his voice
like ice.
It took a moment but Voldemort saw the exact instant recognition flooded
into the wizard but recognition was not followed by understanding. Heprah gave
a cry of revulsion and jumped back slightly, flinching away from the Muggles
that had shared his pleasure in Harry Potter. "I don't..." Heprah
coughed. "I don't understand."
Arrayed before him in various states of undress were three Muggles. They all
showed signs of torture in their thin hallowed looks and the blood and cuts
that covered their bodies. The first one he recognised was Vernon. The man
appeared almost emancipated and his skin sagged from his bones. The next was
thin man who was almost totally naked. Blood wept from his anus but he made no
moved to staunch the flow and Heprah gagged as he realised it was the Muggle
who had invited him to try young Harry. And finally there was a youngish Muggle
there, one he occasionally had shared Harry with when he'd felt that the boy
had required some extra discipline. All three had metal rings around their
balls and Heprah could see that the skin around each ring was blackened and
burnt. If the pain of constriction was not enough, fire had been added. He
winced despite himself as he noticed that both Vernon and young one were
twitching and beneath their largely intact trousers he could see the outline of
butt plugs.
"My Lord, what is this?"
"This," the Dark Lord began softly, "is a sample of what I do
to those who have dared to touch my mate."
"Your mate?" The Dark Lord shared his bed? This was news to Heprah.
"My mate," Voldemort said again. "The Heir of Gryffindor, one
Harry Potter."
Understanding was not instantaneous and the Dark Lord savoured the confusion
that lead slowly into panic. "My Lord?" Heprah managed to gasp as his
eyes flickered between the Muggles and the enthroned Lord.
With another lazy flick, Voldemort returned the Muggles to their cells and
focused his full attention on Heprah. "In some ways I have to thank you.
Harry has recovered from the traumas of his childhood very quickly because of
you. He has been able to disassociate himself with the memories and so has come
to terms with them. Your abuse has also allowed me to show him the truth, a
chance perhaps I would not have otherwise had if he'd have lead a normal life.
But the fact remains that you have touched what is mine. You were in a position
to save him Heprah but you chose personal gratification. Imagine the wealth you
could have acquired from the Wizarding World by being known as the one who
saved the Boy-Who-Lived. And such a gesture would have earnt my mercy. But you
have thrown away all those possibilities and now you will suffer the
consequences."
With glowing eyes Voldemort raised his wand and traced a simple pattern as
he murmured the words. Behind Heprah an object appeared. It was made of glass
and was almost six feet tall. It was bulbous and shaped roughly like a tear
drop except that it's point was turned back down on itself. It shimmered in the
torch light and with another twist of his wand the Dark Lord transported Heprah.
The wizard appeared in the centre of the glass sculpture and as he looked
around confused, the Dark Lord rose and walked up to the structure.
"What is this?" Heprah snarled, the Dark Lord's seeming mercy
making him bold.
"It is something I've wished to try for a while," Voldemort said
matter of factly. "But Muggles are too fragile to endure for long so I've
had to wait. You are trapped in there Heprah. The glass is unbreakable and
unless you are an animagus who transforms into something extremely small you
cannot escape through the funnel. Even if you were, I have placed containment
charms over this vessel. Air can get in and air can get out but that is all.
You will remain in there until the day you die. I wonder how long it will
take..?"
"What?" Heprah gasped as some implications dawned on him.
Voldemort smiled and licked his lips as he tapped at the glass. "My
only regret is that it's not summer. I would have enjoyed watching you broil
but to compensate, I will have you moved close to the fire during the daylight
hours. I wouldn't want my guests to be cold."
"No!" Heprah screamed, pounding on the glass. "No! Have
mercy!"
"Mercy?" The Dark Lord questioned as he turned away. "I am
being merciful, infinitely merciful. In time, you will die."
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Possession