Better Than Cookies {COMPLETE}

Warnings for the following: Godfather/Godson action, Drama, Sex...*grin*, and some other stuff. Anyway, enjoy.

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Harry smiled happily. The warm water flowed over his tired body, relaxing him even further. He let his head fall forward against the white, vinyl shower wall. After inhaling a few deep breaths of the moist air, he let the final one out in a loud whoosh. The dramatic sound made him smile, one of the few true smiles to cross his face in the past few months.

He turned off the shower and grabbed blindly for the towel rack. Remus had offered many times to use a spell to permanently correct his vision but he always refused, preferring the familiarity of his old glasses. Finally finding the white blur hanging on the rack beside the shower stall, he tucked the small towel around his waist and moved toward the door. He twisted the knob, stepped out into the room, and froze. His body instantly tensed as his instincts screamed that something was wrong. His limited vision scanned the room but could see nothing out of place with the familiar blurs. Suddenly, a blur moved toward him quickly.

“Hello, Potter. Fancy meeting you here.” The voice was impossible to mistake. Greyback’s growling, barely human voice greeted him from across the room.

Harry immediately began to backpedal. Panic fisted his lungs making it nearly impossible for him to draw a breath. “No…” the word left his mouth in a panicked moan.

A clawed hand lashed out to grab his upper arm. “Be still, Potter!”

The hand holding his towel rose to help fight off his attacker and he didn’t even notice his towel puddle on the floor around his feet.

Greyback, obviously tired of fooling with the struggling teen, pulled out his wand and stunned him, cutting off Harry’s yell for help. He caught the unconscious teen around the waist and tried to ignore his state of undress.

A few moments later, loud crashing echoed down the hall and Remus flew through the door, wand drawn. “Greyback!” He instantly zeroed in on Harry’s slumped form. “What have you done to him?” he demanded. “I swear if he has one scratch on him I’ll..”

“You’ll nothing,” Greyback cut him off with a sneer. The older werewolf grinned and, in a lightning fast movement, stunned him. With one arm still around Harry’s waist, Greyback reached his free hand over to grasp Remus’ arm and disapparated.

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Harry woke up slowly. He became aware of his cheek pressed against cold stone and his nudity at the same moment. Once those facts registered with his foggy mind, he jerked into a sitting position and looked around frantically. He had been kidnapped. There was something about a potion, Remus, and then more darkness. He pressed his hand to his forehead trying to make sense of things. It was then he realized where he was.

The large stone room was empty of furniture except for a massive throne and a bed in the center. He frowned. This was bad. At least he thought it was bad. Everything was a little muddled. He shook his head again, trying to clear the nearly tangible fog.

“Ah, he’s awake.”

Harry jerked his head toward the voice and his eyes widened. There stood a hooded figure, who by the red eyes could only be the Dark Lord himself, and a handful of fully masked Deatheaters. Harry scowled, feeling his dormant Gryffindor bravery rise to the surface. “What do you want Voldemort?” He mentally applauded himself when his voice came out strong and clear.

“Why, Mr. Potter, I’m surprised you don’t know. A smart boy like you with your brilliant powers of deduction.” His voice was obviously mocking and Harry growled in the back of his throat.

Harry’s mind raced trying to make sense of Voldemort’s comment. He stared hard at the floor, finally gritting his teeth when all the pieces fell into place. He was still alive, naked, and in a room with a bed. Torture. Of course. He mentally slapped himself for being so stupid. His gaze darted around the room for anything to use as a weapon. Nothing. Remus lay unconscious a few feet away. Casting a quick glance toward the silent group, Harry scuttled over to his godfather, always keeping one eye on the Dark Lord. He firmly grasped Remus’ shoulder and shook him. Minutes later, the man was still out cold. Harry growled quietly in frustration.

“He’s going to be out for a while now.” Voldemort’s voice drifted across the room to him again and Harry slowly turned to meet the Dark Lord’s gaze. What did they have planned? He thought he knew, but if that was the case he would choose death. He raised his chin.

“Would you?” The man looked genuinely curious as well as amused.

Harry cursed himself and tried to close his mind. It was no good. He had always been horrible at occlumency. He shook his head. The weird fuzziness was still there. This time making him feel relaxed, almost a forced calm. He fought against the feeling and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Once again, Voldemort read his mind. “You want to know what is wrong, correct?” He started across the room toward his throne, his masked death eaters following behind him. “You can thank your potions professor for that. It’s a potion, a little like veritaserum, except it makes it impossible for the person to act or speak in a way contrary to the truth. You’re confused.” It wasn’t a question.

Harry knew his face was probably a mix of horror and confusion.

“You’ll see what I mean. Which reminds me, we slipped your godfather a little aphrodisiac. It would be in your best interest to move away from him as I believe he is waking up.” Voldemort’s eyes flashed brighter with what appeared to be a dark glee.

Harry jerked his head around and saw Remus’ eyes opening slowly. “An aph…aphrodisiac? Why?” His words trailed off as the full horror of the situation hit him. “You can’t be serious,” he yelled in a voice made high by panic.

The man blinked a couple times before his gaze landed on the naked Harry. “Harry? Where are we? What’s going on? Why are you naked? Wait, why do I feel…” His words trailed off as his worried gaze darkened to something primative and predatory.

Harry scrambled backwards as the werewolf began to rise from the floor, his amber gaze never leaving his. “Remus?” Harry was disgusted with how weak his voice sounded, but continued to crawl backwards. The eyes stayed on him, as Remus’ crouched and prepared to pounce. “Remus!”

A man-sized weight landed on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. After a few breathless moments, Harry started to shove at his godfather. The inhumanly strong man was having none of it. Harry was roughly flipped over on to his stomach. He wriggled desperately even going so far as to send a pleading look at the group of death eaters. Strangely, one of them even made a move to step forward before Voldemort sent them a warning glance. Harry screamed in frustration. It was impossible to get his godfather, who was now scrambling for his wand, off him.

Harry squeaked in surprise as a thin wand tip pressed into him. The odd feeling quickly retreated and he was suddenly full of a slippery substance. A moment later, one long finger pressed into him. He yelped and began to fight in earnest, squirming and twisting in Remus’ firm grasp. His mind told him to be disgusted with the whole situation and to fight harder than just the wiggling and bucking he was doing, but his body arched into the contact. It’s not me. The thought repeated over and over in his head like a nearly silent mantra. He gasped as the finger hit his prostate. A second finger and then a third joined it while Harry made small mewling noises and pushed against the hand even as his mind screamed for him to pull away.

His face burned with embarrassment at the thought of the dark side watching him act like a Knockturn Alley whore. Even with his conflicting emotions, his body continued to move with the man fucking him with abandon. Remus’ blunt organ slammed into his prostate every few seconds, making Harry cry out shamelessly. He slammed his palms against the stone floor on either side of his face and shoved his ass backwards in a silent plea for more. His needy sounds rose in volume until they finally culminated in a loud cry as he came in spurts on the stone floor. He was vaguely aware of Remus’ reaching his own orgasm seconds later. The weight on his back, practically dead weight, threatened to press him face first onto the freezing stone. Harry’s arm shook with the effort to hold their combined weight. The heaviness was suddenly lifted from his back and he fell to his side, curling up in the fetal position.

The cold beneath him seeped into his body. The feeling of Remus’ cum sliding out of him to slick his thighs overwhelmed him. Harsh sobs racked his body. Somewhere deep inside, he felt a twinge of satifaction as if on some level he had wanted Remus to touch him like that. Never. No. He curled in upon himself, for a moment forgetting the Dark Lord waiting just across the room.

A few minutes later, said Dark Lord, spoke. “Put him on the bed.”

Harry pulled himself out of his self-pitying stupor at the sound of cloth rustling in his direction. He tipped his head back to see two Deatheater’s almost on top of him. He yelped and scrambled backwards until his back brushed Remus. With a flick of the approaching Deatheater’s wand, the werewolf was stunned again. Not that he would be much help in his current condition, Harry thought bitterly.

Two sets of arms grabbed at him and he lashed out, his nails scoring the back of a pale hand. There was a satisfying gasp from one of the figures before they were both dragging him toward the bed. He dug his bare feet into the ground, the rough stone scrapping painfully against his heels. As if they suddenly realized what he was doing, one of the cloaked figures picked up his struggling form and carried him the rest of the way to the bed. The moment he touched the soft bedspread, coils of rope appeared to lash him down.

“Now, Harry. You have something important that we need.” Voldemort’s arm swept the room, indicating himself and the Deatheater’s present. “So, Lucius, always one to make things interesting, came up with the idea to make it a contest.”

Harry felt his heart skip a beat. “What kind of contest?” His strong, fearless tone was replaced by a tremulous whisper.

Voldemort tipped his head toward one of the masked figures, who answered Harry’s question. “Whoever can make you scream the loudest wins.”

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Sorry to leave you hanging. *sheepish look* Don't kill me. I will get the next bit up as soon as possible. Scouts honor. Had I been in the scouts that may carry a bit more weight...