Graveyard Revisited

Dedicated to my dear Lady Evans Potter, enjoy!

"Now untie him, Wormtail."
With a flick of the little rats wand Harry slumped forwards, crashing to the ground, knees weak, body shivering. This was bad, this was really, bad, every alarm that had ever been instilled in Harry was blaring inside his head, panic raving through his body as bile rose in his throat.

“What have we here, hmm?” Hissed the Dark Lord, his voice mocking and cold. Defenseless Harry crept back against the gravestone that had been his prison moments ago. Harry would have preferred being tied up, the terror that this mock freedom brought with it was too much for the boy to handle. “Scared are we?” Voldemort reached out to touch Harry, the boy flinching away as if burned. A cold cackle filled the air as the Dark Lord grabbed Harry by the tufts of his unruly hair and pulled him to his feat and flung him over a crypt, ass in the air, and legs dangling off to the side. That cold cackle made a horrifying duet with Harry’s scream of pain.
“Everyone but Malfoy, Snape and Mrs. Lestrange, leave us! Pick up your wands and be useful to me, raid Hogsmeade! Voldemort is back, show it to the world!” Voldemort commanded his forces with as much respect as he had before Harry had become bane to his body, and several cracks of disapparation followed. The most prominent members of the Death Eaters crowded closer to Voldemort, and by position Harry, who was still recovering from being slammed onto hard marble.
“My lord?” Asked Bellatrix, her voice tinged with a childish glee that contrasted badly with the menacing smile plastered across her too pretty face.

“Oh, my Bella, how I missed you.” The Dark Lord extended his hand to his female servant and she twirled into his embrace. “I want to see you play, darling” He said to her, his fingers stroking her delicate jawbone as Bellatrix stared into the blood-red eyes of her master. Glittering jewels of insanity were an apt description of Mrs. Lestrange’s eyes, and Voldemort enjoyed her pretty, pretty mind far too much at far too many occasions. She had a knack for torture, magical and otherwise.
Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy watched their master welcome his pet with satisfaction, eyes shining with hope. This war was theirs.

“My loyal Snakes, how have you fared” Voldemort hissed to his two followers, as he continued to pet Bellatrix with a bony white finger, her skin turning pink, rubbed raw by his scaly skin. Lucius Malfoy, prim and proper in the eyes of society, never bothered with charades with his one and only master:
“Horrible my lord, horrible until now!” He said, a genuine happiness shining trough that very few had seen.
“That old coot will get what’s coming to him now, master.” Severus Snape added, bowing low, his greasy hair covering the hollowed face that had most students at Hogwarts pissing their pants.
“Such kind comments, my sweet- ah, now Harry, where are we going?” Voldemort saw a movement out of his eye; apparently the Potter boy had managed to gather his bearings and was attempting to escape. With a flick of a wand, Harry’s wand no less, Voldemort flung Harry back onto the stone slab that made up the lid of the crypt the boy had been tossed onto earlier. The sickening crunch of ribs breaking delighted Voldemort as Bellatrix started cackling madly.

“Is ickle Potty in pain?” She asked, laughing all the while as the boy fought between withering in pain and not moving at all because it just hurt too god damned much. “Poor ickle Potty boy,” Bella continued as she nuzzled into the robes of her master “Milord will have you in so much pain, ickle baby boy, that this will seem like heaven!” She shrieked out a laugh.
“Milord, not to question you Milord, but why are the others sent away?” Lucius asked, bowing lower than low, expecting the cruciatus curse or worse!
“Ah, but my dear Lucius,” The Dark Lord purred “Religion is opium to the masses, or, in this case, blood and torture.” A murderous glint settled in Voldemort’s eye. “And we will have some fun of our own, with a very, very special boy.” Identical smirks spread over the faces of the three males as Bellatrix set the tune for the evening of fun with a bone chilling witches cackle.

“What are you going to do to me?” Harry Potter, the boy-who-wouldn’t-fucking-stay-dead managed to wheeze out. It felt like the broken ribs had torn into his lungs. It smarted, oh god it smarted, and moving was so not in the picture right now. A solid cough or two later, and the savior of the wizarding world spat blood on white marble. Harry tried to crawl into a better position as the death eaters watched, laughing along with their master.

“Does it hurt, Potter?” The snakelike qualities of Voldemort’s voice never faltered in making Harry’s skin trying to crawl right off his body. “Imagine having your physical being ripped from you, Potter, do you know the pain that causes?” Enquired the Dark Lord, softly, and very gently. A quick wand movement turned Harry’s wand against its owner. Harry Potter screamed into the night air as his body convulsed, jostling the broken ribs, tearing his lungs further, a thousand knives tearing through his flesh, molten oil pouring from the wounds. It didn’t look like much, there were no marks, the cruciatus did that, made it look insanely fun, a person screaming from nothing, howling for nothing to stop, screaming for nothing to end. Voldemort never understood how the ministry banned such a fun curse as he watched his young nemesis wither.

“He looks pretty like that, Milord” Whispered Bellatrix in his ear, or what was left of it, she licked the skin of Voldemort’s cheek, her tongue rasped up by the harsher skin. Voldemort ended the curse, watched how the pathetic boy that had ended his corporeal life all those years ago shook uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face, and it felt good, it felt so good. The satisfaction flowed through the Dark Lords veins like a dark drug that no one would ever take from him again. Broken sobs sounded like music to Voldemort’s mangled ears, and the sadistic grins on his three most trusted Death Eaters filled the Dark Lord with a morbid joy, his little family was back together again, at last, and now he, and his elected children, would get their revenge.

Another wand movement, a hissed spell in parsletongue, and bounds erupted from the crypt upon which a certain boy lay incapacitated. The bindings grabbed the wrists and ankles of Harry Potter, flipped the lithe form over, slammed him back down and the scream, the guttural, broken, blood choked scream that tried to gurgle its way out from the boys throat sent shivers down Voldemort’s back and all the way down to his toes.
Voldemort’s hearing was human, but a flick of the Dark Lord’s inhuman tongue sensed the rapid vibrations emitting from the dancing heart of one Harry Potter. The boy was afraid, and rightly so.

“I think, my sweet Bella, that you get to heal the boy, make a masterpiece, my love, but leave him alive.” Voldemort ushered his beautiful, insanely beautiful, servant out of his loving, masterly embrace. Bellatrix he was a savant in torture, and torture she would. The wild curls sprouting dangerously from Mrs. Lestrange’s head danced as she twirled her way to rest at Harry Potter’s side.
“You are so pretty, your eyes are so pretty, ickle little baby boy.” She said to him, whispered sweetly, as she stroked his face as a concerned mother would. She petted the boy “Oh poor little Harry, so alone” she said, her voice breaking. The boy tried to move away, tried to buck against the hold the restraints had on him, despite the screeching protests his body made, his blood clogged air ways and lungs making the most racket. Harry’s vision was getting faint.
“Diagnose es somes” flowed from Bellatrix’ lips as she flicked her wand at Harry’s chest. A list of the boys injuries slowly materialized in glowing writing, it was in Latin, but Bellatrix understood every word, as did everyone else but Harry, as most pureblood used Latin as their main language at home, English was for interaction with commoners. “Adificio Liqour” was whispered again, as Bellatrix pointed her wand at Harry’s chest and focused intently on his lungs. A concentrated blob of blood and mucus suddenly erupted from the boys mouth, and the onlookers watched, enraptured, as Bellatrix flicked her wand and flung the blob away, splattering mucus filled blood nicely on the marble angel that had originally served as Harry’s prison. Redefining art with red had always been a Lestrange specialty.

“Proprie locus bones quod restituo lemma” The sweet, childish voice of Bellatrix Lestrange took on an ethereal, sexy, dangerous quality when she spoke Latin, which was what had drawn Rudolphus to her in the first place. Harry’s bones snapped back in place, as the boy screamed, the sounds of his pain unhindered, as his bones grew together again, knitting together painfully. Every snap of renewed bone connections felt like a blow to the chest, a vice around the heart, painful and clenching.

With a final whisper of Restituo viscus punctum, healing the lung puncture itself, Bellatrix smiled to her lord, her fellow Death Eaters.
“Ladies, meaning me” she cackled her voice made to seem lighter “Gentlemen, and Milord, the boy is healed. Now, watch, as the splendid and beautiful Bellatrix performs the poetic arts she is so famed for!” Harry, his health recovered, struggled against the bonds, tried to get away, but the bonds held, and Bellatrix Lestrange moved closer than he ever wanted her.
Moving to straddle the famed boy-who-lived, Bellatrix pointed her wand at him once more: Divest tela was whispered, and the ratty, bloody shirt that had covered the boy’s torso vanished. Bellatrix held no interest in the boy’s body, not in the way her companions did, but she did however put great stock in making the boy bleed in a pretty fashion and scream up a symphony. Having earned the name of ‘crazily artistic beautiful bitch’ from her loving husband one night when she tortured a little girl he brought home for her as an anniversary present, she discovered that yes, she wanted to be just that, a crazily artistic beautiful bitch. The name was no insult, and amongst her peers in the ranks of her loving lord, when they talked of Bellatrix, they rarely used her name.

“Ladies, gentlemen, Milord” the crazed woman said again, her voice low and seductive as she rocked down on the boys pelvis. “I give you, the instruments!” A quick flick of her wand and a table appeared, plain wood, large, right beside the crypt where the boy who lived lay silent, his voice cut off by fear alone. Reaching into a pouch attached to her robes, Bellatrix fished out a small leather parcel of something, then she enlargened it, removed the weight reducing spell, and it turned out, surprise, surprise, to be a collection of knives, pokers, saws, tongs and other such necessities.

“W-what are you planning on doing to me?” Fear still gripped Harry Potter by the heart roots, but he had to ask, that cliché question had to tumble from his lips like a bad apple falls from the tree and tumbles downhill. Harry knew what was she was planning, Harry Potter knew what he was in for, the glinting metal implements alone enough to scare the piss out of Harry, literally.
A twisted snarl graced Bellatrix’ features, but even that couldn’t take away from her rare beauty. She rose up, a rancid smell rising with her, as a pool of yellow liquid gathered on the marble crypt.

“Disgusting ickle Potter boy, pissing himself for the smallest things,” she snarled “Didn’t mommy potty train the little Potty?” the snarl twisted into a smile “You don’t have a mommy, but Harry, today is your lucky day, I want to be your mommy, and it will all be ok!” She smiled as the pool of piss spread across the white marble, touching the sole of her shoes as she stared down at the soiled boy hero, who was sputtering insults and going on about how his mom was a sacred saint Mary with a halo and sunshine sprouting out her ass. The usual.
“I am so glad I’m a proper witch and not a filthy mudblood!” Bellatrix roared, silencing the boy hero as she flicked her wand, removing every trace of the piss. “And since I am your new mommy, not a filthy mudblood like the last one I want to teach you a lesson.” Bellatrix said gently, before she lifted her foot and stomped down on Harry Potter’s private bits like she would a cockroach, reveling in the howl torn from the boy and the cringes of her male companion, even her lord. Watching how the boy would try to curl in on himself was amusing, especially since those beautiful bonds the Dark Lord had created prevented that poor, poor boy from moving an inch. “And I want to make sure you never piss on me again, you filthy little maggot.” She whispered, voice laced with malice and dangerous intent.

Intorqueo urethra was the last thing Harry Potter heard, before the pain in his groin flared up like a thousand suns once more, it was so horrible, it felt like his bits were being twisted inside out. Screaming his pain to the heavens, his voice taking a light rasp from overuse, Harry Potter unwillingly played the symphony his spectators and torturer had waited a long time for. Twitching in his bonds, muscles pushing and pulling, Harry Potter looked like pain personified, and according to the smirk Bellatrix was wearing, she was certain the boy wonder was just that.
“Did it feel good to have your urethra knot itself up, my dear son?” Bellatrix asked, her foot releasing the pressure on the abused scrotum of the boy-who-lived as the Dark Lord twitched and Lucius and Severus moved to discreetly protect themselves. Bellatrix kicked Harry’s head “Ickle Potty boy, I am now your mum and you will answer me!” The boy stayed silent, the pain of his fucking knotted urethra, so damn unbelievable, helped Harry focus on being stupidly, Gryffindorishly bull headed.

“Oh my husband will be so sad if I can’t raise our new son right,” Bellatrix mock despaired “Aren’t you glad you have a mom now, ickle Potter?” She knelt down beside the bound boy-who-lived, as them men watched the scene unfold on top of the crypt. Bellatrix Lestrange bent down and embraced Harry James Potter, nemesis of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and whispered audibly “Mommy loves you Harry, mommy wants to take care of her boy, Harry, mommy loves you,” She kept stroking the boy comfortingly, as the confusion built in her two fellow Death Eaters and rage built in Voldemort. The careful touches, the sweet nothings muttered in the boys ears, continued.

A choked sob made everyone stand at attention, Bellatrix leaned back, and out from under her, a crying Harry Potter could be seen, his chest heaving with the pained cries. Bellatrix had done it, Bellatrix had done the most beautiful thing; she had broken the mind of Harry Potter.
“Shhh Harry, be quiet, be quiet my beautiful boy, mommy’s here” Bellatrix’ smile, that truly insane one that promised blood and pain, bloomed across her face.
Bloody beautiful, that was Bellatrix, in more ways than one. She picked up a scalpel from her portable toy rack, as her ‘son’ kept sobbing, whimpering. Bellatrix had always known what buttons to push, and now she finally had a chance.
“Mommy wants to do something to you, son” Bellatrix said sweetly, stroking the forehead of Harry Potter like a concerned mother would do to a sick child. “And mommy wants you to thank her for doing it, got that my son?” Swifter than the eye could see, Bellatrix had placed the scalpel against the skin of Harry’s torso.

At the first cut Harry’s sobbing merely increased, his blubbering growing more annoying, the second cut had no further reaction than extra twitches, but Bellatrix lived through it, knew that beautiful ‘thank you’ from her beautiful son would come soon. The Dark Lord and the two other men watched with interest as cut after cut was made, in some sort of shape, but it was undistinguishable. Blood welled out where the scalpel dug in, and rivers of red followed the emaciated contours of a broken teenager’s body.
“Soon love, soon, mommy is finished soon” Bellatrix reached a bloodstained hand up to stroke away the tears that ran down the boy wonder’s cheeks in rivers leaving behind a smear of blood that contrasted beautifully with those weeping emerald eyes, that reminded the woman so much of death itself. The last little batch of cuts was the most precise, carefully placed to complete the masterpiece. Human skin, Bellatrix thought, is the best media for art, as it was always so alive. She snickered at her own joke, not sharing her delightful humor with anyone as the real tricky process of his art piece began.

Long nails started picking at the cuts, lifting the skin up so a scalpel could slip beneath and sever the skin from its fastenings. The washing crescendo of a ‘thank you’ Bellatrix had wanted from her newly adopted son started to build, as more and more skin was quickly severed, the initial cuts helping the shape along as Harry’s sobs turned to screams and the blubbering turned to pleading. The boy was calling for his mother, wondering why she was doing this, and while Bellatrix was removing sheet after sheet of skin, Voldemort laughed loudly, loving how his Bella managed to surprise even him. Her mind play had just reached new heights. Lucius and Severus stood there gaping, Severus with a small twinge in his heart, regretting that his beloved Lilly was the mother of this boy.

Soon Bellatrix Lestrange, with all the grace of a pureblood wife and the bloodied hands of a Death Eater, stood back up, her White dress splotched in red, hands colored the same and sticky, hair wild and expression insane.
“We have art, gentlemen!” She shouted, grabbing her wand and firing off a cauterization spell at her masterpiece before clearing away the blood around the charred flesh. A shape could be seen. Voldemort, Malfoy and Snape stepped closer, morbid curiosity fitting well with the melancholy blubbering symphony Harry Potter created when he tried to reach out for his mother, tried to speak to his mother, tried to get to Bellatrix. On Harry Potters chest there was a perfect replica of the Dark Mark, just as detailed as the original Tom Riddle had drawn on paper long ago. Voldemort had gifted that drawing to Bellatrix before he died; she made good use of it now. Voldemort reveled in the smell of burnt human flesh, of burnt Harry Potter.

“Bellatrix, my dear Bella, you have outdone yourself, you have completely outdone yourself!” cooed Voldemort as he drew the bloodied form of Bellatrix into an embrace, his tongue darting out to lick at a smidgeon of blood that dared to occupy the beautiful face of Bellatrix Lestrange. Voldemort listened as Harry Potter pined for his left hand woman, heard as he called her all sorts of mothers, and he filed each word away, with a morbid interest. If he’d known that a few gentle pushes to the boys psyche was all it took, maybe Dumbledore would have lost his weapon sooner rather than later.

“Now boys, for the next act” ever the ringleader Bellatrix addressed Severus and Lucius as she nuzzled the robes of her lord, “I need you two to help me out.” The woman moved over to her victim again, and the constant stream of comfort flowed from her lips in a voice so sweet it made Voldemort shudder. Harry Potter relaxed, talked to his mummy, as his mummy motioned for Severus and Lucius to come closer.

“Undress” Bellatrix barked, before she went back to cooing at Harry, his adoring emerald eyes meeting her black pits of despair. Eyes are a mirror of the soul. Confused at the order the two men looked at their lord, who looked back unflinchingly.
“Do as the woman says.” He was too pleased with Bellatrix to deny her anything right now.
Carefully, with paranoid movements, the two proud men got undressed swiftly, folding their clothes, and placing the piles on some wide gravestones nearby. Naked as the day they were born Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, stood with their heads held high. Their Lord did not tolerate anything else. Malfoy, fit body, beautiful skin, and hair spun of the moon, was disgustingly beautiful, while Severus, tall, lanky, sallow skinned and unproportioned, hair of the oily sort, was beautifully disgusting. They had an appeal, both of them, extremes from a far end of the scales each. Bellatrix looked the naked men over appraisingly. Then she whipped out her wand and cast the same curse twice, in rapid succession. Male fio cito per nolens.

A sharp sensation pooled in the groins of the two naked men, still standing proudly in front of their lord and his mistress. As the cold air surrounded them and made their flesh crawl with chill, they still, slowly but surely, became unwillingly aroused. Soon two proud cocks curved against two taut stomachs as Bellatrix watched the handiwork of her spell. That spell needed an unwilling victim to wear off, unfortunately for Harry.
“Now boys, wait just a second,” Bellatrix lifted Harry Potter’s head, so he could see the naked and aroused Malfoy senior along with the naked aroused Potions professor that had made his life hell. “Harry, love, it’s mum” Bellatrix coed “Harry, listen!” she whispered urgently “Those two men are bad, those two men, you see them, they are really bad!” the faked tinge in Bellatrix’ voice was deceptive “mommy will never love you if they touch you Harry, mommy will never love you.” Bellatrix gently let Harry’s head rest against the marble before she spelled off the rest of the boys clothing and danced over to Lucius and Severus and whispered “Malfoy, you fuck his mouth, Snape, that ass is all yours.” Before she cried out “Oh no, don’t hurt my baby!” Harry’s head snapping to attention, looking for Bellatrix as Voldemort embraced her again, in Harry’s mind holding her captive.

As Snape and Malfoy advanced on the boy, he started thrashing. His mommy wouldn’t love him if they touched him! Severus shared a smirk with his old friend, “Pleasure working with you again, Malfoy” Lucius chuckled and shook his head. Severus always had the most inappropriate appropriate humor, if such a thing existed. The closer they got to the thrashing boy, the wilder he became, and the slow movements of the two men were painfully deliberate, as the desperation in Potters eyes was a better aphrodisiac than any spell could ever hope to be. Even bruised, bloody and emaciated that boy was quite beautiful.

As Lucius straddled the Potter boy, the savior of the wizarding world still muttering about being hated by his mommy, Severus saw his chance:“Milord, would you mind?” Severus humbly bowed as he gestured to the bound feet of the boy. With a flick of Voldemort’s wrist the boy’s legs were in the air, ankles held up by tendrils emitting from the same place as the wrist ties.
Lucius whispered servo orifice patefacio, and with a sickening pop Harry Potters mouth, despite his ramblings for his dear mother, the laughing Bellatrix, was now wide open, unable to close, just the way Lucius Malfoy liked his boys. Lucius looked at Bellatrix, who nodded her confirmation, as Voldemort watched two of his favorites performing as lead stars in his favorite type of show.

His dick was aching; something quite unbecoming of a Malfoy, but his bratty sister in law had placed that wonderful spell on him, at his Lords allowance no less. Lucius Malfoy groaned as his own hand wrapped around his straining member, guiding it towards that forced-open-mouth, which was no easy task as the boy kept moving his head. A simple spell took care of that, and moments later, Lucius Malfoy rammed his cock down the boy-who-lived’s throat, groaning at the pleasure of it. He felt the boy try to resist the spell he placed to keep that brat still, but the intense focus Lucius Malfoy had on getting his pleasure from this boy kept the spell going strong. Stroke after stroke down that fighting throat, as the boy gagged, screamed and coughed around the elder Malfoy’s dick, creating that little extra that no willing partner could ever give him. Lucius Malfoy found Heaven in Harry Potter’s mouth.

Severus hopped onto the crypt, when he saw that Lucius had gotten comfortable. The blonde had started muttering the standard spell for forced oral sex, as no Death Eater wanted their equipment bit off. God that little ass looked good, Severus thought, as he heard another spell being muttered and a groan he recognized as Lucius in the throes of passion. He felt the eyes of Bellatrix and their Lord on them, but he didn’t care. Not even Lilly’s ass had looked this hot that one time he tapped it before James Fucking Potter got his hands on her. For a mudblood she fucked half decent. If only James could see his son now. The boy had started twitching as Lucius fucked his throat like a madman. Severus felt the press of the spell at the base of his erect cock, so he slathered up his hand with saliva, stroked twice, to spread it out, and positioned himself at that delectable ass. The moment of truth had come. And as that unprepared ass opened unwillingly around his forcible cock, Severus’ last thought was that Lilly had never been this tight. Fuck this was good, fucking hell this was good, the Potter boy had finally found his use, the no-brained little shit was a perfect fuck, and Potters ass ate cock like a seasoned whore. Harry’s body welcomed Severus inside that intense heat again and again, sphincter dragging against the Severus’ shaft, refusing to let go, but Harry’s mind was another story, another story completely.

Bellatrix looked at her masterpiece, looked at her two beautiful boys and how they had the savior of the wizarding world brutally defiled. She left her lords embrace and walked closer to her art piece and looked at the details. Potter’s groin had tuned an ugly shade of purple, and Severus’ dick was smeared with blood as the man worked in and out. She knew the potions master was a big one, but in contrast with that tiny ass, it looked like an iron girder. Beautiful and sensual Lucius Malfoy, wild with abandon, forced his cock down the wonder boy’s throat repeatedly, his pleasured groans not entirely unaffecting. Bellatrix leaned down beside Harry’s stilled head, watched as that slender cock disappeared between those pink lips, entranced, as she started to whisper in Harry’s ear “Mommy doesn’t love you, you let the bad men touch you, and mommy doesn’t love you” her mantra continued as Harry started sobbing harder, as Lucius moaned louder. Having a sobbing victim was apparently quite pleasurable when one was fucking their throat.

A desperation brought on by the spell seized both men, as their rough treatment of Harry was upped considerably as the boy sobbed his miserable tears. His mommy didn’t love him. And while Potter’s heart was breaking, his throat was stuffed with cum, bitter, slimy cum, before Lucius pulled out and spurted the rest all over the savior’s face. The Malfoy slumped over, embarrassed over his stamina, he hadn’t come that fast since a Hufflepuff had blown him behind the Quidditch shed at Hogwarts!
“The spell works perfectly,” purred Bellatrix, who had a close-up to the Malfoy’s beautiful completion. Soon after Harry felt his bowels painfully expand as his greasy potions professor emptied his considerable load inside. The come stung horribly because of all the internal tears, but Harry cared little, his mommy didn’t love him, and that made all the difference.

Voldemort unleashed Harry from his bindings, the boy’s limbs flopping lifelessly down, slapping against the cold marble crypt, his mouth and ass leaking pink tinted come. Voldemort thought that boy painted a pretty, pretty picture, but now it was time for the final thing that would break the boy completely. Voldemort watched his Death Eaters put themselves back to rights after their carnal display, no shame visible on either man’s face. It was a beautiful thing to have such loyal followers.
“My sweet ones,” he addressed the three before him “Join the others in the carnage and tell them that their lord will be with them soon, understood?” They looked at him with puzzled expressions, but one by one they bent down and kissed the hem of his cape before disapparating. Voldemort was finally alone with a broken and battered Harry Potter.

With three flicks of his wand, Voldemort had cleaned and healed Harry Potter, straightened out his urethra, but he left Bellatrix’ masterpiece, he couldn’t bare destroy such a lovingly devoted piece of art, he just couldn’t. Harry Potter still didn’t move. Bellatrix was good at screwing people over mentally, she knew moods and mindsets just by looking at people, and she had broken Harry completely, she had taken all his stress and panic and used it against the boy savior himself, creating a big structural mental collapse. Harry was for all intents and purposes nothing more than a puppet; and that would just not do! Voldemort used the connection that had been forged with Harry, that fateful night all those years ago, to enter Harry’s unguarded mind, and while he repaired all the damage Bellatrix had done, he sifted out all the important information he would ever need. What was this about a secret passage from Honeydukes? The dark lord was very careful when he restored Harry’s memory of the last hours; very careful indeed, the boy wouldn’t be allowed to forget a thing! Soon Voldemort pulled out of Harry Potters freshly restored mind, and waited for the results.

“No… no… no…” The boy child had started whispering, his hands coming up to touch the throat that Lucius had so recently abused, a hand reached down between parted legs to feel the destruction wrought there. Even if Harry was healed he knew the boy felt exactly what had been done to him. Voldemort watched as sobs wracked the now sentient boy, tears fell, this time not for the loss of a mother, but for the loss of everything sacred. The dark lord had made especially sure that the boy remembered who he called mommy. That memory would haunt that little shit till the day he died, the time he betrayed his own mother to the person that helped kill her! It was time to set the last piece in motion.

Concentrating fiercely on his appearance, the Dark Lord slowly but surely felt his skin begin to shift, appendages grew out, hair too! Soon Voldemort could conjure a mirror and look a handsome man with beautiful face in the eyes. This was how a 70 year old Tom Marvolo Riddle would look. Thankfully wizards kept better than humans. He looked barely a day over 40, a gracefully aging man graying at the temples. The boy, in his anguish, hadn’t noticed anything; he had started clawing at his own skin, angry red welts appearing where smooth flesh was preferable.

“My boy, what happened?” Tom’s voice had changed as well, it was a deep baritone that invited trust and confidence. Harry didn’t answer “I came upon you like this and healed you!” Voldemort continued, trying to hide his smile. Harry Potter didn’t move though. Disguised as the pleasant older man, Tom ran over to the boy and embraced him. “Shhh, child, what happened.”
“T-they tainted me!” Sobbed the boy, his voice raspy after certain events.
“Who tainted you, what did they do?” Oh this was too much fun, too much fun for one person!
“Take it away!” Cried Harry, curling into Voldemort’s embrace as the Dark Lord smiled evilly, unseen by the boy. This was too easy. The boy was so broken up he wasn’t even suspicious!
“Did they take you forcefully?” He asked, gently. The bare nod Harry gave. “You want the taint gone?” Oh, the broken pieces of this boy, even when fixed up properly enough, left enough loop holes to where Voldemort could really outdo himself here. Harry nodded, he wanted the taint gone.

“What is your name, boy?” Voldemort asked, almost laughing.
“Harry…” that delectable little thing in his lap whispered.
“Well Harry, I can remove the taint they put on you.” Voldemort said, his voice calm and reassuring. The boy looked up, hope in the previously despairing pools of green.
“You can?”
“I can.” Voldemort smiled.
Taking the boy by the chin he tilted Harry’s head back and gently kissed the boy. Oh how long it had been since he had been gentle with anyone.
“I will touch you where they tainted you.” Voldemort said as he proceeded to deeply kiss Harry, stealing the youths breath as Harry tried to respond.
“Thank you.” Harry whispered breathlessly, his eyes dimming. Voldemort gently laid the boy back down on the stone slab.
“Are you ok?” He asked Harry,
“N-no…” the boy answered quietly “but I will be, after you remove the taint.” Voldemort smiled as he gently caressed the naked body before him, devouring that lithe form with his eyes as if it were a feast.
His lips started a trail from the boys neck, down to those pert nipples, which had nipped up because of the cold night air. There was a slight moan from the boy, that was good, but the boy was still a ragdoll, very passive. Giving each nipple a good round with his tongue, gouging the boys reactions, Voldemort continued lower to the newly healed groin area. To the Dark Lord’s surprise he found a half hard cock waiting. He took the boy in his mouth, the small member was easily swallowed, and soon brought to full attention as the boy began thrashing, whimpering. Now that’s more like it, thought Voldemort. This, more than anything, was going to be Harry’s downfall.

“Please…” it was almost like a whisper on the wind, but Tom heard it, and he redoubled his efforts, and it soon paid off, the emotional scarring of Harry Potter seemed to heal just a bit as he came down the throat of a conveniently placed stranger. Voldemort was very glad the boy wasn’t in a state where he could use logic to realize just who the hell was pleasuring him.
“Come my boy, we still have a place to remove taint from. I have kissed it away everywhere else, but this area, is more delicate.” Voldemort almost laughed at the hogswallop he’d just sprouted, but his gentle touch to the newly healed nether regions of Harry Potter for some reason convinced the boy. Voldemort guessed the little boy had been broken by Bella more thoroughly than he first thought.

“We can’t…” Voldemort started, an idea forming in his head.
“You promised you could remove the taint!” The boy yelled desperately, tears in his eyes.
“But we have nothing to…” Voldemort paused for effect “ease the way…”
“Please, kind man, remove the taint, please…” Harry Potter pleaded, unknowingly to his worst enemy. Voldemort tried to hide the evil smile, and managed to morph the expression into something cutesy that lulled the boy further into his web.
“On your knees.” Voldemort said, having trouble enough keeping an erection going. This nice and easy shit died out so many years ago, hard and fast was the way to go. Voldemort opened the black robes Wormtail had given him. A quick spit in his hands plus a few strokes, waiting a lubrication charm on Potter made him cringe, and his cock was slicked.
“We’ll remove the taint… together, Harry.” Voldemort lined himself up and pushed forwards. Watching that ass swallow his dick, feeling those muscles clench, he most certainly understood what his potions master was going on about! He moved back out, angled his hips in search of that special spot. Voldemort always knew Potters were easy, special spot found on first try. Harry bucked beneath the Dark Lord, keening, it was a beautiful sight, and Voldemort resisted the urge to fuck the boy dead.

It must have been the emotional toll, Voldemort concluded, as Harry came screeching, his come splattering the white marble. Oh what the hell, thought Voldemort, and let himself go quietly.
“The taint is removed…” Harry whispered blissfully. Whoever had raised that boy didn’t do a good job of it; they must have done something to make this boy so unbelievably trusting. Stupidly trusting. It was probably why Dumbledore found such good use for the boy, outside sexual favors, which, Voldemort was guessing, was beneath the light side. Voldemort gradually shifted back into his true form.

“The taint isn’t removed Harry” Voldemort hissed. That snakelike quality back I his voice. The Potter boy screamed while he tried to move away, but the Dark Lord grabbed the youth and held him close, his softened cock still lodged deeply inside Harry’s come drenched ass. The rough, snakelike skin was rubbing Harry’s soft and pliant skin raw, the red tint giving the skin a healthy glow it never had before. “The taint isn’t gone, boy, not by a long shot” and that night, in the graveyard, Harry Potter broke down and cried in the Dark Lords arms.
“Shhh, Harry…” Hissed Voldemort quietly, his snakelike tongue darting out to flick at Harry’s ear, making the boy flinch “Be silent, you’re my tainted little boy now.” Harry cried harder, because his mom, his real mom this time, would never love him after this.

FIN

Edit: Fer cryin' out loud, does it physically hurt to rate and review?