Better Than Cookies {COMPLETE}

A/N: Dear Anon- I am thrilled and excited by your ability to read a calendar. It has, indeed, been more than a week since I updated. I appreciate your reminder, even if the phrasing was a bit special. *smirk* Even so, here is the next chapter and keep me posted on anything I can do to make your reading experience more enjoyable. *sprinkles rose petals*

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Harry woke up feeling happy, which was a strange feeling for him. He was used to feeling afraid, in pain, or depressed, but he couldn’t remember ever waking up happy. Along with that, he felt like he was loved. Really loved. And someone was holding his hand. Harry immediately shot straight up and looked around frantically. An unmasked Deatheater sat just beside him, holding his hand. Nott. He snatched it back and scooted backwards. For some reason, he felt a distant pain in his chest. Almost like he was feeling someone else’s pain.

The odd fuzziness that had been holding him back was gone and his head was clear once again. He realized he had been drugged, so everything that had happened wasn’t really his fault. He heard whispers in his head. At least five separate voices told him he was wrong and that he hadn’t been drugged. He suddenly remembered about the potion as if someone was supplying the information for him. He leapt backwards off the bed and straight into the arms of someone else.

Rodolphus caught Harry before he fell to the floor. The boy instantly began to struggle. “Calm down, Harry.”

Harry froze. The voice from… He tipped his head back and met the brown eyes of Rodolphus Lestrange. “No! No, let me go!” He was released and stumbled in his hurry to retreat. He didn’t really do all that with a Lestrange did he? Harry looked past Rodolphus to the unmasked Deatheaters behind him. Greyback smiled at him with pointed teeth. The shiver Harry normally felt when confronted with the werewolf was absent. He frowned and looked over the rest of the faces. Malfoy was cool and collected as usual, only his sneer was replaced with a tiny smile. Harry glanced to the person beside him, the other Lestrange brother, Rabastan. He had the gall to offer a smile. Harry’s gaze hardened further. He felt someone behind him and turned directly into a kiss. His immediately eyes fluttered shut and he kissed them back. He remembered the soft lips and the warm hands that now rose to cradle his head. After letting out a content sigh, he pulled back with a smile still on his lips.

Bellatrix watched Harry’s face as his eyes opened. There was a moment of disbelief and then horror and pain took over.

“You! You killed Sirius!” He leapt away from her like she had an infectious disease. Fury darkened his features. He glanced down and remembered he was naked. “Where are my clothes?”

No one moved.

“Where do you plan to go?” Voldemort’s low, teasing purr drifted through the group followed by the man himself.

“Home. Give me my wand, Tom.” Voldemort paused, a smirk curving his lips.

“Now, why does that sentence sound so familiar?” He tapped his chin like he was thinking. “Perhaps, I’ve heard it before?”

Harry growled losing his patience. He stepped up to the Dark Lord and screamed in his face.
“Give me my fucking wand!”

Voldemort’s smile disappeared completely. “You are not going anywhere.”

Harry spun on his heel, running toward the prone figure still stunned on the ground. “Accio wand!” The thin piece of holly flew from Voldemort’s pocket and directly into Harry’s hand. He sent the Deatheaters a humorless smile. “I will leave and forget all about this.” With a pop, Harry disapparated with his unconscious godfather.

The moment the room stopped spinning Harry cast a levitation spell on Remus and floated the man behind him as he ran around the house packing. After shoving a handful of Remus’ clothes and a handful of his own, into a bag, he walked calmly toward the fireplace. In his mind, the voices yelled for him to return. He shook his head and, clenching his teeth, raised his wand to Remus’ head. “Obliviate.”

The voices got louder and more commanding. Harry screamed in frustration and clamped his hands over his ears. “No! I’m not going back.” He hurriedly grabbed and handful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. “Number thirteen Grimauld Place.” In a rush of color, both he and Remus swirled through the floo system to be deposited on the hardwood floor of the Black residence with a loud thump.

Harry looked around, searching the kitchen and entry hall, before returning to the sitting room to retrieve Remus. He floated his godfather up the stairs to the room he usually took and slide him under the covers of his bed. For long moments, he simply stood there staring at him. Love, anger and fear swirled in his mind. Finally he leaned down and placed a kiss of Remus’ cheek. “Good night, Remus.” He quietly closed the door behind him, shuffling up the hall to his own bedroom.

“I don’t know what you did to me, Voldemort, but hear this, I will die before I let you use me against the light.” Harry made sure to open his mind wide so the thought was projected through what he was beginning to believe was a bond with the Dark Lord and his Deatheaters. Before he could loose his nerve, he walked over to the bed and lay down on his back. “Protect the light,” he muttered to himself as he raised his wand. “Obliviate!”

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Flashback of the Ritual

The blackness suddenly receded and a room full of large caldrons came into view. “Wha?” Someone shoved something against his lips and pried open his mouth. The liquid was warm and comforting as it flowed down his throat to rest in his stomach. “Wha?” He tried again, half-heartedly, to find out where he was and what was going on.

“Mr. Potter.” The stern voice came from over his shoulder somewhere.

Harry tried to turn his head but found the muscles to be too loose to be of any use. His legs felt soft and useless too. Panic gripped him as he realized he was naked. “Nnnn!” He struggled weakly against the arms around his waist, his tongue refusing to make the correct sounds. Finally, he forced out, “Stop!” The arms lifted him up and he felt something cold touch against his leg. Moments later, he was completely submerged in warm liquid. It seemed to hug him, clinging to every surface of his body, and making all the blood rush to the surface of his skin.

The arms that pulled him from the large caldron, wet and moaning, made him writhe in their grasp and he struggled to get closer to the body he sensed inches away.

“Be still, boy.” The hands tightened on his waist, increasing the tingling pleasure.

“Please.” Harry tipped his head back and squinted at the face hovering at least a foot above him. Red eyes stared down at him blankly. Harry let out a pitiful whimper and rubbed himself against the hard body. One muscled thigh slide between his and he gasped, raising his eyes to meet his dominants. Even as Harry’s mind rebelled against the thought his body was completely in accord. “Yes,” he hissed in parslemouth, receiving a caress in return.

“My Lord.” Someone shouted from across the room. Hurried footsteps brought them closer and then an attractive blonde man stared hard at the red-eyed man. “My Lord, I know you are tempted but he cannot be allowed to have release with you until after the ritual is complete.” The moment the last word was uttered, the blonde raised his wand toward Harry and muttered something.

Harry’s disappointed moan was cut off as blackness once again overtook him.

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Harry stared up at the ceiling blankly, his mind unable to make sense of the plain white. “Wha?” He mumbled incoherently, rolling over to take in his surroundings. Grimauld Place. The first bedroom at the top of the stairs, to be exact. The tense muscles in his back instantly relaxed. “Wait…” He raised one pale hand to rub his forehead. There was something important in his head. Something he was supposed to know that wasn’t there. He scratched his head and yawned widely. Well whatever it was it couldn’t be too important.

The murky blue walls created strange shadows from the room’s furniture. Without any windows it was impossible to tell the time of day. Harry sat up slowly, wondering at the dull ache he felt in his lower back. More the ghost of a pain than the real thing, he dismissed it and placed his feet on the cold floor. The sickly yellow light of the hallway lamps leaked into the room from the crack under the door. Harry slide his bare feet into the sneakers he found beside the bed. They were his, he noted after squinting for a few seconds, but he had no recollection of leaving them there. In fact, he couldn’t even remember leaving Remus’ house on the outskirts of London. He pause mid-thought.

Something was wrong. Even as he quickly donned the trousers, jumper, and robes he found lying on a chair nearby his mind whirled. It was almost as if someone had removed a chunk of his memory. Like he’d forgotten something important. “Or been made to.” The moment the words left his mouth he knew they were true. “Obliviate. Someone obliviated me!” The words left his lips as an enraged snarl.

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Severus Snape growled low in his throat as his arm tinged at a particularly inopportune moment. With his head buried in his bond mate’s huge lap, one graceful hand held the base of Hagrid’s engorged manhood as his tongue licked the tip in long languid strokes. Against his better judgment, he ignored his master’s call until the tingle turned to a faint burn. With a muttered curse, he removed his lips from his mate’s hot flesh and leaned back on his heels. His mind filled with all the many horrible things he wished to do to some unsuspecting muggle before Hagrid’s hand touched his face lightly. Still afraid to touch him even though he was healed from his most recent adventure with the Headmaster, the large fingertips were like the fluttering of butterflies.

“Yer Master?” Hagrid stared down at him from his chair at the kitchen table, looking unconcerned even as his eyes shone with desire for his smaller mate.

Snape gave him a jerky nod, carefully avoiding looking at Hagrid’s tempting genitals.

“Off wit ye then.” Hagrid gave him a crooked grin and lifted him off the floor.

Severus couldn’t hold back his moan when he landed in Hagrid’s lap, the bulge in his pants rubbing against his mate’s larger one.

Hagrid gave him a teasing smile and rubbed his mouth whisper soft against Severus’ thin lips. “Hurry back now, love.” His fingers found their way to Snape’s hair, giving the end of one strand a light tug.

Severus’ lips met his with more pressure as the tug on his hair seemed to be directly linked to his crotch. “Mmm, Rubeus,” he growled before he could stop himself. His eyes popped open and he stared at his mate. “I must see what the Dark Lord finds so vexing.” He quickly moved from Hagrid’s lap before he could be drawn in again. He cast his bonded a critical look, taking in the picture he presented. His gaze moved toward the heavily draped windows of the cottage and he frowned for a moment before moving toward his mate again. “Can’t have you lazing about in such a debauched state. Someone might see,” he mumbled to himself, vaguely aware of Hagrid smiling fondly. After carefully tucking his mate back into his trousers and buttoning his shirt, he gave a quick nod. “I will floo if need be.” He waited until Hagrid nodded before striding from the cabin, his mate’s taste a comfort on his tongue.

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Lord Voldemort and his inner circle simply stared at the place where Harry had stood just seconds ago. Lucius was the first to recover, closing his open mouth and turning to his lord. “My Lord?”

Voldemort growled low in his throat and turned to the blonde. “Yes?” The gleam in his crimson eyes made it obvious any sarcasm would be dealt with painfully.

Lucius frowned at his lord and looked back at the spot Harry had stood. “I don’t feel him anymore.” His voice took on an edge of panic as his eyes flew back to Voldemort.

The Dark Lord too felt the moment the bond faded. It wasn’t completely gone but the sound of Harry’s voice was so soft it was nearly inaudible. Voldemort whipped around to face his Deatheaters. They stared back at him with dull eyes, Bellatrix even going so far as to cling to her husband’s arm for support. Seeing this, the Dark Lord reached for Lucius’ left arm impatiently.

Ten minutes later Severus Snape walked into the room, robes billowing. He paused and did a double take. Even in his annoyed state, the Dark Lord found it amusing enough to earn a smirk.

“My Lord?” The dark haired man frowned at the members of the inner circle taking in the pale skin and dark gazes. “What has happened? Was the bonding unsuccessful?” As he asked questions, he advanced on the group. Pausing in front of Voldemort, he raised his wand.

The Dark Lord raised one eyebrow and the potions master’s questions paused. “You may do a diagnostic but you will find we are in perfect health.” At Snape’s disbelieving look he continued, “Harry’s less than favorable reaction to our identities led to a rather unfortunate chain of events.” He turned from his follower’s inquiring look and began to pace. In his mind, the voices of his inner circle snapped and snarled at the loss of their submissive mate. “Harry is gone. His voice no longer speaks to us.” He heard Snape’s quickly indrawn breath and turned his head to see the potions master looking slightly ill.

“That is only possible if he is under extreme duress or…”

“Dead. Yes, I am aware of that.” Voldemort saw both Bella and Nott flinch at his callous tone. He ignored Bella’s mental anguish at the thought of their mate dead and continued to pace.

“You wish me to check on this, I presume.”

Voldemort turned in time to catch a flash of sympathy in Snape’s eyes before it was hidden. “Yes.”

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Dumbledore stood at the top of the astronomy tower gazing into the burgeoning light of morning. Mere moments ago a wealth of power had washed over the castle from the direction in which he now gazed. Even the creatures of the forest were silent, as if they too wondered over the odd occurrence. Albus didn’t wonder, he knew it was Voldemort. Probably another one of his plans to take over the ministry. The feel of Harry Potter’s aura was what alarmed him. If Harry turned dark…Albus scowled. Perhaps, it was time for certain measures to be taken. Obviously, the boy’s treatment thus far had been far too tame. Maybe, Vernon’s methods and plans on the day of his death should be followed through. Someone had to show Harry his place. Dumbledore’s eyes took on a mad gleam as he turned away from the window.

In hurried movements, he searched his desk for a fresh piece of parchment and a quill. Uncapping the ink, he tapped the feather against his chin. “To whom should I write?”

The phoenix perched nearby appeared to glare before it turned its back.

Seeing the action, the old man smiled brightly. “Ah, yes. I think he will do quite well. His size alone will insure fatal damage,” he paused and gave the disbelieving portraits around the room an exaggerated wink, “except for the daring actions of yours truly. I will rush in, after the act is done of course, and keep the boy from bleeding to death. If I am not mistaken, the trauma should insure our savior a bed at St. Mungos until he is needed.” He frowned critically at the neatly written missive before nodding and folding it three times. He scribbled a name on the back in his long loopy script and tossed it into the fireplace along with a handful of floo powder.
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