Lord Voldemort's Slave

Summary: Voldemort wins the battle of Hogwarts and Harry’s life changes immeasurably. And it’s not for the better.

Disclaimer: You all know the deal…..it all belongs to J.K. Rowling. My bank balance tells me that little fact.

Authors Note: This is my first time writing something like this and I’m not 100% sure that I’m convinced by my attempt. Therefore, any comments good or constructive criticism are welcome. Thanks as always to Walking Through Shadows for the wonderful beta. Belle

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Harry cringed as he was forced once more to crawl along the corridor after his master. Whenever Harry wasn’t flat on his back or riding his master’s cock in full view of all of his Death-Eaters he was forced to follow his master around on hands and knees with a collar and leash as if he were a dog. It had been this way since Voldemort had won the war almost three months ago. Harry had watched as all of his friends were ruthlessly murdered by that tell-tale flash of bright green light. The only two people other than Harry who had survived were Neville Longbottom who became a slave for the Lestrange family and Ginny Weasley who became a slave to the Malfoy family.

Harry was just thankful that Neville hadn’t had to undergo the same humiliation that Harry had. Fairly soon after Harry’s defeat and subsequent capture Voldemort had hit upon what he considered to be a wonderful way to subdue the Gryffindor. Harry had been the victim of an incredibly old and rare curse that to all intents and purposes had made him into a hermaphrodite. Whilst he still had a penis he had several additions that included fairly impressive C-cup breasts, a vagina and a fully working female reproductive system. To the Dark Lord’s mind, the fact that Harry could get pregnant and be forced to carry his children would completely humiliate the young man and force him to submit more easily.

He had to admit that to all intents and purposes it had worked. To all appearances, Harry was the perfect pet for Voldemort. He had lost the will to fight a long time ago. He had lost it around the same time as Ron and Hermione had been killed in front of him. He couldn’t decide what was worse – him being a whore to the Dark Lord and ruler of the Wizarding world or Neville being a pain slave to the Lestrange’s. Neville was used solely to be subjected to pain whether it came through the Cruciatus curse, knives, whips, branding irons and a whole variety of other curses. In contrast, Ginny Weasley was used as a brood mare for the Malfoy family. Ginny had been impregnated by either Lucius or Draco within days of Voldemort’s victory and both men had made it clear that as soon as she had given birth and it was safe for her to become pregnant again she would be. With Narcissa unable to bear any more children Ginny, despite coming from a family of blood-traitors was a pureblood and more than satisfactory for use as a brood-mare. Harry wished that he could do more to protect his two friends but knew that if he fought back too much Neville and Ginny would simply be killed.

Now aged 18, Harry was very simply, a whore for his master.

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Dumbledore had been killed early on in Harry’s seventh year in a raid on the Ministry of Magick led by Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. They had been aided from within by both Cornelius Fudge and, to their utmost surprise, Percy Weasley. The third eldest son of Arthur and Molly had joined Voldemort thinking that the dark mark would gain him more power and more confidence to stand up to his family. It had been Percy who passed information from Fudge to a contact within the Death-Eaters. With the Headmaster dead, Minerva McGonagall had taken over as Headmistress with Snape as her deputy. The Potions Master had been discovered as a traitor to Voldemort when he tried to rescue the Headmaster from the raid on the Ministry. He had barely made it back to Hogwarts alive and had been cooped up within the castle walls in an attempt to keep him safe.

At this point, wanting to feel useful towards the war effort, Snape had made his peace with Harry. He had agreed to teach and train the younger wizard and both had withdrawn from their normal school schedules. A Potions expert from the Ministry was brought in to teach and Snape retreated to the dungeons with Harry. There they ate, breathed, slept and lived defence and the dark arts. Severus taught his protégé all he knew including defence, the dark arts, potions, occlumency and legilimency. Anything he thought that could possibly be useful he taught the younger man and Harry soaked it up like a sponge.

At first, the training was given reluctantly. Neither man could stand the other. They simply worked together for necessities sake. Gradually, over the nine month period things changed. Their relationship moved from mutual hatred and loathing to respect and finally to friendship. Harry barely had any contact with the other students from his year, even his contact with Ron and Hermione was incredibly limited. Therefore, his former professor became his confidante. This simply made it harder for Harry when Severus was killed.

At the end of Harry’s seventh year, just as the recipient of both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup had been announced the wards of Hogwarts shuddered and fell; Voldemort had arrived at Hogwarts. To the professors horror, numerous students amongst all four houses stood and joined the Death-Eaters, disarming their fellow students and even torturing and killing them. As the Death-Eaters swarmed the Great Hall, Muggle-borns were the first to be killed.

Harry stared in horror as his friends were killed one by one. No child, muggle-born or half-blood, was spared. Those who were members of the DA fought bravely and instead of being killed outright were taken captive and bound instead. This made for an even crueller fate. As they were all close friends of Harry’s, he was forced to watch as each of them was subjected to the Cruciatus as well as a multitude of other curses before they were finally despatched with an almost nonchalant Avada Kedavra from Voldemort himself. In this manner, Harry watched the deaths of Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, the Creevey brothers, Cho Chang, Susan Bones and Molly and Arthur Weasley along with Bill, Charlie, Fred and George.

The final person to be killed before Harry’s eyes were the teaching staff with Severus Snape being saved until last. It was Severus Snape who suffered the most out of all the people tortured and killed at the Battle of Hogwarts. The first people to take their turn were the seventh year Slytherins. Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had all been marked as Death-Eaters at the end of their fifth year but had managed to slip underneath the radar of their Head of House. Still only in their teens they stayed away from the more vicious curses but the Cruciatus curse seemed to be the staple of their arsenal and Harry lost track of how many minutes his mentor writhed in agony under their wands. From there the Carrows moved in accompanied by the elder Crabbe and Goyle. Not as sophisticated as members of the Inner Circle they relied on their brute strength, kicking and beating the potions professor until Harry could hear the crack of bones. It was then the turn of the Inner Circle, primarily consisting of Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. Rather than brute strength, they relied on spellwork, most of it Dark Arts. To Harry’s horror, they even used spells of Severus’ own creation against him including Sectumsempra. Both Bellatrix and Narcissa had been raised as Black’s and there were some fairly twisted folk in those bloodlines. Over the years, under their husbands influence, they had only grown more twisted. Finally, after nearly four hours of torture, having been brought back from the brink of unconsciousness more than once, Severus was finally killed the same way that all of the others had been killed; a simple beam of green light from Voldemort’s wand.

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Harry, aged seventeen, was at the age where he was still experimenting with his sexuality. Unlike most of his peers he hadn’t had the opportunity due to fighting Voldemort. His choice was ultimately taken away from him when the Dark Lord disregarded the prophecy and, rather cruelly, enslaved Harry. Every day the teenager wished that he had died alongside his friends and family. At the same time though he was grateful that his adopted family, which consisted of the Weasley family and Remus and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, were spared the shame of seeing him in such a position.

He had never felt this more than he did at this point; huddled over the toilet in the rooms he lived in with Voldemort. His master had taken him four times the previous night, relying on charmed objects when his own body could no longer keep up. Making the situation even harder for Harry was the continuous voyeuristic presence of Voldemort’s familiar, Nagini, curled up in the corner of the room. He dreaded the possibility that Voldemort’s twisted psyche would involve the snake in an attempt to get some perverted pleasure. Even when he was granted the relative comfort of being taken in Voldemort’s bed, Harry still suffered the shame of being leashed like an animal. In fact, the Dark Lord became even more turned on by the sight of his pet tied to the bed.

Last night he had decided to whip Harry until his back was bloody and raw before flipping him onto his back and forcing a potion down his throat. A potion that Harry, even with all of the time he had spent with Snape, couldn’t recognise. He tried to spit the potion out but a ball-gag was forced into his mouth leaving him with no choice but to swallow the potion or choke. He screamed around the gag as Voldemort slammed into him without bothering to either prepare him or use any form of lubrication. By the fourth time, the only lubrication to be had was that of Harry’s blood.

He had woken that morning to discover that he was no longer tied to the bed but he was under no illusion that he would actually be able to leave the room without his master’s permission. He rolled onto his side, wincing first as the sheets stuck to his bloody back and then as his bruised and abused arse came into contact with the bed. He had just about managed to sit himself up without crying out in pain when a wave of nausea swept over him. He bolted for the bathroom, barely managing to make it before he was throwing up the little food that he had been eaten the day before. He had no idea how long he was retching for before he felt the presence of his master behind him.

“It looks as if things are progressing nicely. Do you know what that potion you ingested last night was my little lion? No? Well, it was fertility potion. You already have the necessary parts to carry a child; I just ensured that last night my family line was continued. You are carrying my heir, my little pet. How is that for sweet revenge? Dumbledore’s precious little child of the prophecy. My little Gryffindor whore is now pregnant with my child. The ultimate humiliation. It almost makes me wish that your precious friends were here to see it. Harry Potter, darling of the wizarding world pregnant with Lord Voldemort’s child.”

Harry, still hunched over the toilet bowl in abject misery, wished, not for the first time, that he had died alongside his friends. Not for the first time, he wished that he was able to kill himself, and that Voldemort hadn’t taken precautions against the possibility after Harry’s numerous attempts during the first few weeks of his incarceration.

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Nine months later, Harry lay curled up in a ball at the foot of Voldemort’s chair on a dais surrounded by the majority of his Death-Eaters. Or rather, Harry was as curled up as he could possibly manage. Nearing the end of his pregnancy, Harry’s stomach had been visibly distended since his fourth month. As soon as it was discovered that Harry was pregnant he was given the privilege of being allowed to wear more clothes. Prior to his pregnancy, if he was allowed to wear clothes at all, he wore what were essentially bikini pants. Sometimes he was allowed to wear a bra but at all times as much of his body was on show as possible. Now that he was pregnant he was allowed to wear what amounted to a see-through dress. Whilst it didn’t give him much coverage it was more than he was used to. He also knew the reasoning behind it. It was a power play. Voldemort wanted to show that he had The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, collared, leashed and pregnant. In a way, Harry almost wished that he belonged to the Malfoy’s like Ginny. She may have been a brood mare for the two blondes but they at least gave her clothing and whilst she was collared she wasn’t kept on a leash.

A searing pain perilously close to his cock brought him back from his musings and he realised with a start that the room was empty with the exception of Voldemort and himself. The searing pain had been the slash of a crop, designed to bring him back to where his mind should have been. He choked as there was a sharp tug on his leash and he stumbled as the leash was pulled on insistently dragging him up from the foot of Voldemort’s chair and onto the Dark Lord’s lap.

He whimpered as his dress was ripped off unceremoniously and he felt the familiar tingle of a lubrication charm wash over him. There was no further preparation and Harry knew that he was only given that courtesy because Voldemort didn’t want to harm his heir. There had been no such courtesy prior to his pregnancy. As he felt Voldemort’s cock slamming into him, accompanied by the now familiar sensation of pain and burning, Harry realised that this was his life now.

Voldemort hadn’t eased in his treatment of his pet during Harry’s pregnancy and it was this that had brought home the reality of his situation. Even pregnant, Voldemort didn’t care about Harry’s well-being. He simply cared about his own pleasure and the well-being of his heir. He had ensured that Harry was carrying a son. Harry was simply the vessel to carry Voldemort’s children.

He was nothing more than a whore. Voldemort’s Gryffindor whore. He was Lord Voldemort’s slave.