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Corruption	By : Beren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7521 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 1-Corruption
- 1
Corruption

Title: Corruption

Author: Beren (aka Didi)

Email: beren@dtwins.co.uk

Livejournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/beren_writes/

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and
owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury
Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money
is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warnings: This story is set post OOTP and therefore has SPOLIERS. Blood
play. Dubious consent.

Genre: Slash

Summary: Voldemort has captured Harry and for his own twisted reasons has
chosen not to kill him outright. Revenge in the Dark Lord's mind requires a
fate worse than death and Harry is about to find out what that is.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Soph for the beta. Don't ask me where this one
came from, it was just one of those bunnies that was born, refused to let me
sleep until it was written, and flowed on to the page over a matter of two days.

Harry opened his eyes slowly
and could not stifle the groan that made its way out of his tormented body as
the light in the room stabbed at his retinas. He hurt from head to toe; not
one part of his body was free from pain; even his teeth hurt. However, at least
this meant he was alive, which was something he had not expected at all.

"Potter?" a familiar,
yet rather worried voice made it into his consciousness.

"Malfoy?" he
replied in confusion.

His inter-house rival had
failed to return to school at the beginning of their seventh year three months
ago; Harry had not expected to come into contact with him again except on a
battle field. Of course as far as Harry knew, he'd been given over to Malfoy
to play with; it was the kind of thing the Death Eaters seemed to think was
funny.

"Good, you're still
your annoying self," Malfoy didn't sound so worried this time, "at
least for now."

Harry was very confused;
he was pretty sure he should be dead and yet he was somewhere having, what was
for them, a polite conversation with Draco Malfoy. He blinked a few times and
was rather surprised when his surroundings came into focus; there was definitely
something odd about that, but his tired brain could only cope with so many thoughts
and he was more interested in where he was and what was going on.

The last thing he remembered
clearly was coming out of Honeydukes: there had been an explosion and then everything
was a haze of images and sensations; most of them unpleasant. He'd been captured
by Death Eaters; that much he knew, and he'd been dragged before Voldemort,
but he had not been killed. It had shocked him at the time, he remembered that
much, and then he recalled some sort of ceremony, but they had made him drink
something and it caused any memories to be horribly distorted.

"Where am I?"
he asked as he realised that his surroundings were actually quite pleasant.

"My bedroom at home,"
Malfoy replied and suddenly came into Harry's field of vision.

His school rival had changed
somewhat; longer hair, less of an obvious attitude, and Malfoy was only wearing
a pair of trousers, which really should have sent unsettling thoughts through
Harry, but instead caused rather peculiar sensations to run the length of his
body.

"Before you ask,"
Malfoy said shortly, "your being here has nothing to do with me and I'm
as much of a prisoner as you are."

It was difficult to gain
any proper feel for his surrounding looking at everything sideways, so Harry
decided to try and sit up. It was not the wisest idea he had ever come up with.
Every cell in his body screamed at him and he only managed to move a few inches
before he fell back gasping.

"Lie still,"
the surprisingly gentle tone from Malfoy shocked him, but not as much as when
a cool cloth was placed on his forehead; "they've been working on you for
two days and you're in quite a state."

That he was not in perfect
health was quite obvious to Harry, but that fact brought with it the burning
question, which had been bothering him since he realised it, to the front of
his mind again.

"Why am I still alive?"
he asked with honest confusion.

Malfoy did not reply, but
Harry felt the blanket on top of him being gently rearranged. His companion
was avoiding his eyes and he reached out and took hold of Malfoy's wrist, demanding
attention. The expression in his rival's eyes as grey irises finally met his
gaze rather shocked him; he saw sympathy and anger.

"Because death is
too good for those who defy the Dark Lord," Malfoy said quietly; "he
wants you to suffer."

For a moment they remained
staring at each other as Harry let the reality sink in. This was not the Malfoy
he knew; the spiteful child was almost gone completely and Harry realised that
possibly the Slytherin had finally grown up.

"What did they do
to me?" he asked, knowing from the look in Malfoy's eyes that his companion
had a good idea of the truth.

Silence descended and for
a while Harry did not think Malfoy would answer, but eventually the Slytherin
moved. Harry did not try and stop his companion as Malfoy pulled the blanket
he had just so carefully arranged off of Harry's chest; the first thing he noticed
were dark shapes on his body.

"They have corrupted
you," Malfoy said with absolutely no emotion in his voice. Pointing as
the symbol on Harry's left shoulder the Slytherin spoke: "werewolf,"
then he pointed to just above Harry's heart; "vampire," his finger
moved again as Harry watched in horrified fascination; "incubus,"
another move; "banshee," a different spot; "Dementor," yet
another; "boggart."

Harry couldn't take any
more and he caught Malfoy's hand before he could move again.

"I don't understand,"
he said, unable to keep the fear from his voice.

"It's Voldemort's
idea of revenge," Malfoy said bluntly; "he had them force the essence
of everything dark they could into you. Over time the corruption will spread
and you will become a dark creature; something twisted and at war with itself;
if you are lucky the clash of magic will kill you."

Harry's mind reeled with
the horror as he instinctively felt for the magic moving through his body; it
made his mind shut down with the sheer terror the ideas caused in him, and he
slowly curled onto his side, regardless of how his body complained, pulling
the blanket up over the evidence of his doom.

He had no idea how long
he lay there, just staring straight ahead as thoughts swirled around his mind,
but Malfoy left him alone and for the first time in his life he found himself
wishing Voldemort had killed him. Eventually, however, the shock began to recede
and he could no longer ignore his surroundings. His mind did not want to come
back and face what was true, but he had been trained too well and he could not
hold his thoughts frozen for long.

"Why have they put
me here with you?" he found himself asking, desperate for something else
to think about.

When he looked over at
where Malfoy was sitting at an ornate desk, he finally saw an expression on
his rival's face that he recognised; Malfoy was sneering, although he appeared
to be doing so at himself rather than Harry.

"I think the Dark
Lord finally ran out of patience with me," the Slytherin said with a self-depreciating
laugh. "You're his revenge on me. Most of the things in you either eat
or otherwise consume human beings; I suspect I'm an experiment."

"He expects me to
eat you?" Harry was incredulous.

"Or otherwise consume,"
Malfoy replied as if he was speaking about the weather; "if he just wanted
me eaten he would have fed me to his pets by now. I suspect he hopes that you
will do all sorts of nasty things to me before you actually kill me."

It was all so horrible.

"What did you do?"
it was the only question that Harry could find which did not make his thoughts
spiral even further down.

"I refused him,"
Malfoy said plainly.

"You wouldn't take
the Dark Mark?" Harry did not quite understand.

"Oh no," his
companion said and held up his arm to demonstrate, "I took that like the
good little Slytherin I am. No, Potter, I refused him; I would not go to his
bed."

That rather shook Harry
out of his despair for a moment as he realised what Malfoy was telling him.

"Voldemort wanted
..." the mental image made his skin crawl, "that's disgusting; he's
vile."

"I noticed that,"
Malfoy replied with his usual sarcasm in place. "Something one can excuse
in a leader, but not in a lover. He wanted me as a toy, and there are many things
I may be, but I am no one's toy. I was quite surprised he didn't just compel
me to obey, but it seems that the Dark Lord likes his play things cowed and
willing. He shut me in here until I agree to crawl into his bed; I suppose he
must have found someone more pliable and my time has run out."

To his growing surprise
Harry found that he actually had respect for his companion as he realised that
Malfoy had a backbone. He had not imagined that the Slytherin would be brave
enough to defy Voldemort, even in something so distasteful. Harry had no problem
with men sleeping with men, but the idea of Voldemort with anyone made him shudder.
Some nasty ideas began to occur to him.

"Oh, Merlin,"
he said as some of the traits of the dark magic forced into him flowed through
his head, "he thinks that I'll ... before ... no ... that's ..."

The thoughts were so disturbing
that he could not voice them.

"And you probably
will," Malfoy said perfectly seriously, "but Malfoy honour will still
be intact."

Harry curled up again;
he just couldn't take this.

Food arrived at some point,
but it was only at Malfoy's insistence that Harry tried to eat anything. He
managed to keep it down for about ten minutes before he had to roll over and
hang over the side of the bed to be messily sick all over the floor. He noted
absently that there was dark blood in with the undigested food as Malfoy pulled
him back onto the bed before he could fall into his own waste, and a house elf
appeared to clear everything up. Shivering violently he allowed Malfoy to wrap
him back in his blanket.

"It's starting,"
his companion said matter-of-factly.

The shivering lasted for
about half an hour before the pain really began and Harry soon lost all sense
of his surroundings as he felt his body changing and dark magic warred with
dark magic to shape him in its image. He tried to fight it, desperately tried
to stop the corruption taking him over, but he was simply not strong enough.

At times he knew that Malfoy
was there, pouring liquid down his throat or placing cool cloths on his fevered
skin. He could not understand why his rival was helping him, but he welcomed
the glimpses of human kindness that, for just moments, broke him out of the
hell he was in. Time had no meaning and he had no idea how long it was before
the battle took all his strength and he finally slipped back into blissful blackness.

====

The next time Harry woke
it was like casting Lumos; he went from sleeping to waking in a heartbeat, and
as his eyes flicked open he took in everything with total clarity. The room
was dark except for the light from the fire, but he could see everything clearly,
and smells and sounds seemed incredibly sharp in the darkness as well. He could
also feel the life of a human being close by; the essence of another life that
sang to his soul the same way the human heartbeat chorused in his ears. The
presence so close by called to him and slowly he sat up and turned.

Malfoy was lying on the
other side of the bed and from the looks of him he had been asleep, but as Harry
swept his gaze over the relaxed form he came back to Malfoy's face to find grey
eyes looking at him.

"It's over then,"
the Slytherin said calmly as Harry found himself becoming intoxicated by the
sight of his companion.

Malfoy was lying under
a single sheet and the way the soft cotton moulded to his form, the Slytherin
was naked. It was almost as if Malfoy was a willing sacrifice as Harry took
in every detail and his companion did not even shift.

"I don't think you
are quite what the Dark Lord was expecting," Malfoy commented as Harry
just sat there; "you actually make quite a beautiful dark creature."

Desire and hunger flooded
through Harry like a single wave and he closed his eyes, drawing in the smell
and essence of the wizard before him. There was no hesitation in his movements
as he came back to himself and moved onto all fours, letting his blanket fall
off his naked frame. He placed himself above Malfoy, one arm either side of
his victim's chest, and looked down at the resigned and slightly afraid features
of the Slytherin.

In an abstract way he knew
who he was looking at; he even knew who he was, but it was all secondary to
the needs he felt coursing through his body.

"So are you going
to eat me or have sex with me?"

The quip came out without
a trace of a tremor, but Harry could feel the fear in the body below him and
it made him smile; part of him revelled in the reaction. Almost casually he
reached over and picked up the edge of the sheet, slowly drawing it back, millimetre
by millimetre to reveal pale, prefect flesh. He could see Malfoy's pulse beating
fast under the delicate curve of the Slytherin's throat, and, as his protection
was removed, Harry saw tension slipping into Malfoy's revealed muscles, but
his victim did not move to resist.

There was still a section
of his nature that allowed Harry to appreciate how much courage it must have
taken to just lie there, and as some of his baser instincts told him to hurt
this pale helpless creature they were quelled by the quiet surrender. No doubt
arose in Harry's mind to counter the notion that Malfoy was now his, but the
violence lurking just below the surface was not freed either.

He ran one talon tipped
finger down the centre of the hairless chest and paused just above the nest
of pale blond hair surrounding Malfoy's flaccid cock. Something in him was not
happy about this particular vision of surrender and he moved his hand down slowly,
letting his sharp nails slip through the silky hair until he curled them round
the unresponsive organ. The only reaction from Malfoy was a sharp intake of
air.

"I think," Harry
said quietly; his voice sounding strange even in his own ears, "that you
should be enjoying this more," and then he pushed magic down his arm and
through his occupied fingers.

Now Malfoy arched off the
bed into his touch with an unstoppable groan of arousal as Harry flooded his
victim with sensation, and lust overcame fear. It was not exactly a subtle seduction
even though he knew he could have made it such, but he had no patience for that
at the moment. Malfoy was becoming hard under his hand as the Slytherin sank
back towards the bed, breathing in short gasps and biting his lip. There was
resentment in the eyes that looked at him now; Malfoy had obviously not expected
to react like that, or possibly to even still be alive.

"You did not want
to be a toy," Harry said, running one nail over Malfoy's sensitive balls,
"but I could make you do anything."

The resentment flared into
open anger then, although Malfoy did not move; Harry smiled as he recognised
the fire of the rivalry he remembered from school. He was torn by enjoying the
subjugation of his victim and wanting that spark back; it seemed that different
aspects of whatever he was now did not agree.

"I will have you,"
he said, bringing his face to no more than an inch from Malfoy's, "and
I may be dark, but I do not have to be cruel."

The hunger was growing
as he held off on his instincts, both to feel this human writhe beneath him
and to taste his victim.

"Give yourself to
me," Harry said with a growl in his voice that he could not control, "participate,
and I promise it will not be play."

Malfoy appeared surprised
by that and unsure of how to react; the Slytherin had clearly believed this
was completely beyond his control and all he could do was let it happen, yet
Harry was offering him a role.

"You are not a passive
thing," Harry said, tightening his grip ever so slightly on his victim's
cock, "there is fight in you; there is passion: I can feel it," he
lowered his face even more so that their noses were almost touching, "I
can smell it."

Very tentatively a hand
came up to touch the side of his face and Harry released his hold to run his
fingers back up Malfoy's chest. As soon as he was free the Slytherin moved and
Harry found himself being pushed over on to his back. He could have stopped
the move quite easily, but it was the most life Malfoy had shown since Harry
woke, so he let his victim have his way and they came to a stop with the Slytherin
straddling him on the bed. Harry laughed as the torrent of emotion running though
Malfoy fed something deep inside him.

"Are you going to
kill me?" the white-blond haired vision of lust asked, leaning on his chest,
seemingly desperate for an answer.

"I don't know,"
Harry replied honestly; he really didn't know what he was going to do from one
moment to the next and although he had no desire to rend and destroy his victim
now, he had no idea if that instinct would rise to the surface eventually or
not, "but I can guarantee you will enjoy it if I do."

He sat up leisurely, Malfoy's
weight trying to pin him down being nothing to his changed body. The Slytherin
sat back on his legs and Harry ran his arms around Malfoy's sides and up over
his back, pulling his victim into his lap with a sudden tug that there was no
chance of resisting. Malfoy had no time to react as Harry pulled his head down
and crushed their mouths together in a fierce kiss. When he ran his tongue over
the Slytherin's closed lips there was no response and so he forced a little
power through his hands and, with a moan, Malfoy opened his mouth and accepted
Harry's probing tongue.

Resistance melted out of
his victim as the kiss progressed and when Harry moved his hand down to cup
one firm cheek of Malfoy's behind he needed no extra encouragement to move in
to the caress. When Harry moved on to nipping and sucking the Slytherin's neck
the young man put his head back and groaned his approval. Running his tongue
over the softly pulsing artery, Harry had the urge to bite, but instinct told
him that this would be over too quickly if he did that, and other primal urges
forced him away from his current prize. He moved on to Malfoy's chest, well
aware that he would not be able to resist long if he didn't. The noises coming
from his victim were very gratifying as he turned Malfoy's pale, unmarked chest
into a map of little pink lines and marks.

When he finally shifted
and began to move Malfoy back down onto the bed, the Slytherin did not resist;
with his fingers wrapped in Harry's hair and his eyes firmly closed, there was
not a lot Malfoy could have done anyway. As if was, as Harry continued his ministration
down his victim's body Malfoy sprawled on the bed and let him have anything
he wanted. This was the surrender Harry wanted; this was the sustenance he needed:
not a cold, weak, fear-based lack of resistance, but a passion filled total
inability to stop this.

"By all that has magic,"
Malfoy exclaimed as Harry descended on the Slytherin's cock with a mouth that
had been dying to taste his victim properly since he had woken.

The salty, earthy flavour
filled his senses and he swallowed Malfoy whole, wanting more. He felt his body
responding in ways he had never experienced before as parts of him came alive
that he had not known existed. His tongue swirled around the cock in his mouth
as he drew back slightly and then split either side of the turgid erection,
gripping and sliding up and down firmly. Malfoy thrust into his mouth, completely
at his mercy and Harry felt his whole body pulse with sensation, sending tingling
all over his torso, centring on his groin. Now he was moaning as well and he
was desperate to drive Malfoy over the edge.

He knew it would not take
long to bring the Slytherin to orgasm with nothing more than his adaptive tongue,
but it was too long for the part of him dominant at the moment. Laying his hands
flat on Malfoy's stomach he pushed the power rushing through his veins into
his lover and with something between a scream and a cry of ecstasy the Slytherin
thrust upwards and came hard into his mouth. Harry drank it all down, milking
Malfoy for everything he had, and by the time he drew back his victim was shuddering
beneath him in over sensitised delirium.

He felt powerful and renewed
as sexual energy surged through his nerves, but it wasn't quite enough and before
Malfoy had even begun to recover Harry found himself moving again. He flipped
the unresisting Slytherin on to his front and pushed Malfoy's legs apart. His
victim whimpered a Harry picked up a pillow and placed it under the Slytherin's
midriff, but Malfoy was too far gone to do anything to slow this down.

Harry might have lost control
and taken his victim there and then without preparing him at all, if it had
not been for one thing; he looked down at himself and realised that he had changed
more than he realised. The reason for the prickling over his torso became obvious
as he saw two rows of little spines running from each shoulder blade, down a
line around each nipple to finish just above his groin area. However, most of
his attention was caught by his very healthy erection, which was bigger than
he remembered before he had gone down on his victim and was also glistening
from root to tip. It appeared that he came equipped with lubrication even if
his partner didn't.

The base, primal part of
him wanted to thrust into Malfoy, damage be dammed, but there was also a percentage
of him that was still Harry and although he needed this he did not need to be
destructive in the process. Malfoy had surrendered and given in and something
in him wanted his victim to be writhing in ecstasy not pain.

Running his hand over his
own erection his coated his fingers and then spread the cheeks of his lover's
arse with his other hand. Malfoy moaned into the mattress as Harry caressed
his entrance and then slowly worked a finger inside. The talon like nails on
his hands withdrew when he caressed his lover and he worked to prepare Malfoy
for what had to come. The moans and small movements he drew out of the Slytherin
excited him and his need to take his lover almost overcame his desire not to
hurt him several times. Eventually, by the time he had slipped in three fingers,
it was too much and he moved himself in to position, needing to possess what
was his.

Pushing in slowly at first,
Malfoy grunted partially in pain and partially in arousal as Harry breached
him and the Slytherin pushed himself off the bed onto his elbows.

"Please," the
impaled young man begged breathlessly, "just a moment."

Harry managed to hold still
for a few seconds as he felt the tight ring begin to relax around him, but he
could not remain frozen for long. Now the need to possess was stronger than
anything else and he pushed in further, seating himself in Malfoy to his full
length. This time his victim did cry out and tried to pull away, but Harry held
him and forced more magic into the Slytherin, causing the cry to morph from
pain to delirium mid way through.

All coherent ability to
move seemed to have left Malfoy with the cry and he collapsed under Harry, completely
limp on the mattress. It also relaxed the muscles surrounding Harry that had
tensed up at the pain, and he found himself free to move. A continuous stream
of small sounds were coming from Malfoy's mouth as Harry thrust into him, slowly
at first, but building a momentum he could not stop. Slick and hard he drove
into his victim, his own grunts and growls growing with every movement as any
ability to think was overcome by the primal need in charge of his body.

He came with a roar that
reverberated around the room and he flooded Malfoy with power, unable to stop
himself, as his body surrendered to orgasm. The Slytherin cried out long and
loud in response, coming a second time, all over the pillow below him and if
anyone heard him they probably thought he was dying. The cry did not end until
Malfoy passed out, and it was some time after that when Harry regained enough
mental capacity to move off of his victim.

He fell on to the bed next
to the sprawled and unconscious Malfoy and dragged air into his lungs in gasps.
He had never experienced anything like it in his entire life and he felt sated
and content as he watched the slow breathing of his senseless companion. The
feeling lasted quite some time, but slowly it began to wear off. Now that the
sexual predator in him had been satisfied, other desires began to make themselves
known and his attention moved from the soft breathing to the steady pulse he
could see and hear.

His tongue had returned
to its usual size and shape and he ran it over his lips as he felt fangs slowly
descend in his mouth. Reaching out he pulled Malfoy on to his side so that the
unconscious Slytherin was leaning against him and with one hand he stroked the
hair from the fragile neck. Savouring the moment he lowered his head slowly
and opened his mouth; when he bit into the pulsing vein it was almost gentle.

Blood spurted onto his
tongue and he drank greedily as the warm liquid ignited entirely different passions
within him. As the flavour washed over him so did the essence of his lover and
he drank of him as deeply as of his blood. It forged a connection between them
and Harry became as intoxicated by the blood and energy of Malfoy as he had
been by the sex. He felt like he could drink forever and he wanted the moment
to last for eternity, but a sudden knowledge stopped him.

As his drank, his awareness
of Malfoy increased in a single moment and a slight flutter in his victim's
heartbeat made itself known. Instantly he knew that if he continued to drink
the Slytherin would die, but if he stopped Malfoy would recover. Part of him
wanted to continue and feel the exquisite moment when that heartbeat stopped
all together, but another part of him wanted revenge, and it was not against
Malfoy. Voldemort expected him to kill this helpless human and then become part
of his dark army; well Voldemort was in for a surprise.

Withdrawing his fangs he
placed his fingers on the wounds and let a little healing magic flow from them,
then he gently rolled Malfoy back on to his front and made him comfortable,
before climbing off the bed. It was difficult; a large part of him wanted to
kill and destroy, but he stumbled into the bathroom, out of sight of his victim
to gather his mind together. Shaking in his effort to curb his baser instincts
he ran cold water into the sink and splashed it all over himself. His skin felt
like it was on fire as he tried to deny the urges of his body and he stared
at himself in the mirror, trying to find the part of him that was still human.

The spines had faded back
to pale, almost iridescent skin and he could not help but recognise that Malfoy
had been right; there was something almost beautiful about him. His eyes were
still bright green, but now that almost glowed against his black eye lashes
and white flesh, contrasting sharply with his deep red lips. His hair was as
unruly as ever and yet now it seemed less what could be called messy and more
wild. Even to his eyes he appeared ethereal. The marks on his chest where he
had been branded with the power forced into his body were still there, but they
were faint memories on his skin rather than the black designs he had seen when
he had first awoken.

He had been taken and changed
into something he did not understand and could only feel, and it made him angry.
He let the fury build as he snarled at his own reflection and he curled his,
once again, talon tipped hands into tight fists. Voldemort was going to pay
and it would cost him his life.

Turning from the image
of himself that he no longer recognised, he growled low in his throat and embraced
yet another aspect of his darkness. While trotting towards the door he flowed
into the shape of a very large wolf and, snarling, he leapt at the barrier between
himself and the rest of the world. Reaching down into the dark magic that lived
within him now he found another talent and his body shimmered, passing straight
through the door as if it wasn't there and re-solidifying on the other side.

A Death Eater in a silver
mask and black cloak rounded on him as he landed, but the wizard never had a
chance as Harry launched himself straight at his throat. Strong, teeth-laden
jaws closed on soft, pliant skin and blood flowed as enamel won over sinew.
Shaking his head Harry ripped the crushed larynx from the dying man and a gurgle
was the only sound that made it into the corridor.

There was no doubt in Harry's
mind that Voldemort was still at the ancestral home of the Malfoys', waiting
to see his victory, and all Harry had to do was find him. His senses let him
feel the dark magic inherent in the walls of the manor and they also drew him
towards the concentration of evil he could feel below. Without any hesitation
he began to run towards his goal.

He was completely unchallenged
as he made his way down the main stairs until he came face to face with someone
he had never expected to see; Narcissa Malfoy was coming out of what Harry thought
was the library from the smell of books following the woman and she froze the
moment she saw him. Harry snarled at her and his hackles came up as his instincts
told him to attack and destroy the threat and the weak human. Hunching down,
ready to strike he growled.

"Did you kill him?"
Draco's mother suddenly spoke and Harry paused before he jumped. "Has my
little boy been sacrificed to this madness?"

That touched the part of
him which was still human and he looked into the woman's eyes, seeing suddenly
not a threat, but a mother in despair. Fighting his instincts and really not
caring what he looked like, he flowed back into the closest to human he could
be now. The fact that he was naked really didn't matter to him as he clawed
on to what was left of his humanity.

"No," he said,
his voice resonating with barely controlled power, "and the guard is dead.
Take him and leave; death walks here tonight."

Narcissa appeared totally
shocked, but Harry shifted back into his wolf form, the woman no longer important
to him. He wanted Voldemort and he cared about little else; nothing else existed
for him now, his enemy had seen to that.

Following his nose and
other senses he trotted through the hallways, completely sure of where he was
going. He moved through the kitchens towards an unremarkable door, which he
jumped at using the same ability he had used to leave the bedroom, passing through
it and onto the stairs beyond. The stone steps were worn and he could feel the
dark wards which hid this old place as he descended to a lower level of the
manor.

At the bottom was a small
chamber with two very large oak doors, and to his surprise they opened as he
approached. Magic whispered at him and he knew that the obstacle had been removed
with a powerful charm and he could sense Voldemort very close by.

"Come in, Harry,"
the familiar, rasping yet sibilant voice called to him from within, "we
have been waiting for you."

The fact that he was discovered
meant very little to Harry since he had had no plan of sneaking in, in the first
place, and, letting his supernatural senses seek around the large room beyond
the doors, he loped in casually. Voldemort was expecting a dark creature at
the mercy of his inestimable power, but Harry felt absolutely nothing towards
his enemy except hatred.

Inside was an almost empty
chamber that Harry vaguely remembered; this was where they had done this to
him and the rage stirred in his chest. His instincts told him to attack and
to kill, but he was not an animal and he had no intention of being prevented
from reaching Voldemort. The Dark Lord was sitting in a large throne like chair,
surrounded by his masked Death Eaters and Harry trotted across the stone floor,
his claws clicking on the hard surface. He turned his head to growl at one Death
Eater who dared to move as he approached and the mysterious man froze.

There were two figures
close to Voldemort; one female and one male and Harry had no doubt that one
was Bellatrix Lestrange and the other Lucius Malfoy, lately freed from Azkaban
by his master. Harry was sure both would defend their Lord, but he was also
confident he could kill before he was killed no matter what they were to throw
at him.

The whole room was full
of nervous tension and Harry knew that no one could fail to see the blood still
on his muzzle; what they would infer by that he really didn't care. Most of
his attention was on Voldemort and the others were only in his awareness for
any signs of danger.

"Welcome, Harry,"
his enemy greeted with a nasty smile, "I see you have eaten already."

A nervous titter of laughter
ran round the group at that pronouncement and Harry came to a halt in front
of Voldemort; he met the Dark Lord's red eyes calmly, brushing off the probing
thoughts Voldemort sent at him as if they did not exist. A Legilimens the Dark
Lord might be, but there was so much darkness in Harry's mind now that it was
like a blanket of night that Voldemort could not see through.

Caring little about anything
but the revenge that sang in his blood, Harry changed back to his humanoid form
and he saw Bellatrix shift in appreciation of what she saw. He could sense her
interest and he looked at her, letting a smile play at the corners of his mouth
as if he appreciated the attention.

"Twice," he said
as he turned his eyes back to Voldemort; "you should keep better control
of your dogs, the one upstairs tried to obstruct me."

He felt someone move behind
him and he twisted and snarled, letting his vampire fangs drop and allowing
everyone to know that even when he was not looking he was aware.

"Ah, Mulciber never
was particularly bright," Voldemort said without any sign of regret. "Did
you enjoy my little gift?"

Harry looked to the masked
man he was sure was Lucius Malfoy and smiled, pleased to see the wizard fidget
uncomfortably under his scrutiny; that a father would abandon his son to such
a fate sickened him even though dark magic flowed through him like a river.

"He screamed well,"
Harry said casually, biding his time and enjoying the anticipation.

"A very pretty young
man," Voldemort said and this time he did sound slightly remorseful, "a
shame he chose to defy me. Are you going to defy me, Harry?"

Harry just grinned at the
Dark Lord, tipping his head to the side rather coyly.

"What do you think,
Tom?" he asked noncommittally.

He did not want to outright
lie because it was likely Voldemort would sense that and he was enjoying the
game. Letting this end too soon did not appeal to the darkness curling around
Harry's soul.

"Harry," Voldemort
responded in a warning tone as if speaking to a child, "are you trying
to upset me?"

That drew a laugh from
the creature that had once been Harry Potter; he was enjoying this more than
he cared to admit. The rage was curling around his insides and the violence
in him waited just below the surface for him to let it go.

"Would I ever do that?"
he asked, moving just a little closer and letting his eyes flick over the wand
in Voldemort's hand. "If you don't mind me asking, what did you do with
my wand?"

"It is in a safe place,"
the Dark Lord replied. "Why, did you want it back?"

With a shrug, Harry glanced
around casually.

"I'm not sure if it
will suit me anymore," he said as if he did not really mean it.

Voldemort would never see
him as harmless, but Harry watched as his ruse worked; his enemy now thought
he believed that he needed his wand. That the Dark Lord would underestimate
him now was clear and Harry tried to appear annoyed, as if he had just realised
he had revealed too much; for good measure he hissed at Voldemort.

"Now, now, Harry,"
his enemy lightly chastised, "I will return it when I believe you are ready,
but you must learn patience. You are one of us now, and it will take time to
adjust. Wormtail!"

A cowering figure appeared
from behind the thone and Harry could not stop the snarl that escaped him as
he saw his parents' betrayer.

"Ah yes," Voldemort
said at his reaction, "I had forgotten the animosity between the pair of
you. I am sorry, Harry, but you cannot have him; I find him far too useful.
Wormtail, fetch a robe for our newest member."

At the sight of the man
who had caused him so much grief, Harry found that he was tiring of the game.
He shifted his weight to his toes as Wormtail scurried off to do his master's
bidding. It was time to end this; time to kill and be killed.

"You took my blood,"
Harry said slowly as if he was thinking something through, "and I find
that now I see that in an entirely different light."

He smiled at Voldemort
as if he was over his fit of pique; the wizard smiled back at him in his own
twisted way.

"I imagined you would,"
the Dark Lord said as if it was obvious to him.

Harry let the rage free,
and he sprang at Voldemort, shocking everyone in the room. He had timed his
attack perfectly and there was nothing anyone could do.

"I want it back,"
he snarled before sinking his fangs into the old wizard's neck.

The blood that hit his
throat tasted stale and bad, but it was full of power and it flared into and
out of Harry as if he was a conduit. He heard spells being fired off as Voldemort
struggled against him, but nothing hit him as power repelled power. The Dark
Lord was strong in his new body, but he had given Harry a far greater strength
in his attempt to make a weapon and Harry would not let go. Drinking deeply
he took Voldemort's strength and pulling back one hand he did what he had been
dreaming of in his darkest thoughts all night; he thrust his talons through
Voldemort's robes and into his chest, closing around the twisted creation's
shrivelled heart.

"Now you die,"
he hissed as he finally took his mouth away from the bloody neck, and then he
pulled, ripping Voldemort's heart from his chest.

As soon as he stopped drinking
his protection faltered, but he waited, watching the light die in the Dark Lord's
eyes. Two curses hit him, but he barely noticed, and only as he allowed Voldemort's
bloody corpse to fall to the ground did he turn to look at the rest of the room.
Some were fleeing, others were firing spells at him, but Harry caught one pair
of eyes in particular.

"Your turn,"
he said pointedly as Bellatrix Lestrange looked at him in horror.

The Death Eaters had created
a monster, and a monster he would be.

====

Everything melded into
one bloody haze; in the end Harry had no idea how many he killed or how many
spells hit home as they tried to get away, all he knew was that he came back
to himself hunched in the corner of the smaller outer chamber, covered in gore
with no idea how he ended up there. His hunger was sated in all ways and he
felt strangely empty inside.

For the second time in
as many days he found himself surprised to be alive and this time it filled
him with a kind of terror. He had thought of nothing beyond his revenge and
yet he was not dead and his vengeance was complete. Voldemort's inner circle
had not been able to destroy him and that thought scared him.

Unable to comprehend quite what this meant, he put his head on his knees and
he began to cry. A high keening sound issued from his mouth filled with his
despair and disgust; he was a monster with a human soul and he had survived.
His very existence was a crime against everything that was Light and yet whatever
power had created him had seen fit to make sure he had not crossed to where
he could find peace. He let out all the pain and anger this realisation brought
to him and he did not care who heard; he could not stop the sound of his grief.

He lost himself in his
desolation, letting go of what was real as his mind spiralled into the darkness
within. Why was the universe so cruel that it could not even let him die?

His cry had changed to
a shuddering sobbing when he felt the presence of a wizard close by; he knew
it was a magical person and he knew this interloper was male because he could
sense it, but he shied away from looking deeper. He fought his survival instincts
as he hoped that it was one of Voldemort's lackeys come back to try and finish
the job; just one quick Avada Kedavra when he had no defences up at all and
maybe it would be over.

However, instead of a green
flash of light, what touched him was something soft and warm. Not really sure
what was happening he lifted his head slightly to see a blanket being gently
wrapped around his shoulders by pale hands. He followed the nearest limb back
to its owner and found himself looking into the face of Draco Malfoy; for a
moment confusion replace despair.

"I don't understand,"
he said in little more than a whisper as his sobs died away.

"Neither do I,"
Malfoy replied with a stark honestly that surprised Harry; "we were halfway
to London when I made Mother turn back. I could not just leave you."

There was nothing Harry
could say to that, he did not know how to respond and he just sat there and
stared.

"Come on," Malfoy
coaxed, standing up and gently urging Harry to follow him, "the Aurors
will be here soon, and I don't think they should see you like this."

"Aurors?" Harry's
mind could not quite grasp what was happening.

He stood slowly, his body
strong even though his thoughts were anything but stable, and his companion
wrapped the blanket around him firmly as if dealing with a child incapable of
taking care of itself.

"When we came back
and found everyone dead or gone," Malfoy explained as the Slytherin slowly
steered Harry towards the stairs, "I contacted Dumbledore. He is contacting
the Ministry and then he is coming here."

That caused Harry to shy
away and back towards his corner shaking his head.

"No," he said
in desperation, "no, he'll bring the others and they'll see ... I can't
... I'm despicable ... I should be dead."

Surprisingly strong arms
wrapped around him firmly and stopped his backwards progress, bringing with
them an unexpected break in the panic that threatened to take away his mind
completely.

"Listen to me,"
Malfoy's very firm voice demanded attention, "you are not what Voldemort
tried to make. He tried to create a creature from everything that is dark, but
he forgot about you. He wanted a killing machine with no conscience that he
could bend to his will, but he did not expect the essence of Harry Potter to
survive."

Harry looked into his companion's
face then, terrified that he would see falsehoods and platitudes in the truth
of Malfoy's eyes, but he was startled from his fear as he realised that the
Slytherin meant every word.

"Potter," his
lifeline said resolutely, "there is darkness in you, but it is not all
that you are ... believe me I know first hand."

The offhand tone with which
the Slytherin finished made Harry blink at him; it seemed like such a bizarre
time for a joke and it bemused him. That Malfoy was showing him kindness after
what he had done to him was confusing, that his one time enemy was making light
of everything that had happened was just beyond his comprehension.

"You didn't kill me,"
Malfoy said pointedly as if explaining to a moron, "and you didn't toy
with me. If that had been anyone but your honourable, Gryffindor self I would
have been in pieces all over that room."

The Slytherin looked at
him as Harry stared back and he did not know how to react.

"You really don't
understand do you?" Malfoy said eventually as if amazed by this fact. "He
took everything that is dark and put it in to you; he leeched the power out
of things that kill and destroy for survival and pleasure and forced it into
your body; and what did you do with it?"

Harry gazed at his companion
blankly.

"You shagged me into
the mattress," the Slytherin said bluntly, "had a little taste and
then went and carried out the task the Light has been preparing you for since
you were eleven years old. You killed Voldemort, Potter; you took some of the
darkest powers known to wizards and instead of going on a random killing spree
you destroyed the Dark Lord. Does that not tell you something about yourself?"

"Revenge," Harry
whispered quietly, "all I wanted was revenge."

Malfoy growled in frustration
and began to lead him to the stairs again.

"If it was only revenge,"
his companion said in a tone that suggested he had given up trying to convince
Harry of anything, "then I would be dead a thousand times over and so would
my mother. Dark creatures do not curl into a corner and sob their remorse into
their hands, Potter, and neither do dark wizards."

Harry didn't really believe
it, he could feel the darkness shifting inside him, but he let himself be led
up the stairs and then onto the first floor. He let himself be bathed and clothed
and the hands that cared for him were a strange comfort. He even let those hands
put him to bed and when Malfoy told him to sleep he curled on his side and closed
his eyes; but he didn't really believe ... did he?

The End
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