Chapter 2
Decided to go ahead and post another chapter. Wanted to make sure there was enough interest in this fic before continuing.
Please note, this chapter does talk about past sexual abuse, but it's nothing graphic. Also, in this fic Harry didn't find out the Snape was in love with his mom during his occlumency lessons.
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***HP
Moaning, Harry brought his hand up and rubbed at his head, wincing when he put pressure on the large knot on his forehead. It took a few seconds for his brain to process what he was feeling, but when he did, the memories from the previous night at the bar slammed into him like a freight train.
Eyes snapping open, he bolted out of the bed despite his head spinning and looked frantically around. "I have to get out of here!" He knew it was stupid, and he knew it wouldn't work, but he rushed to the door grabbing and pulling at the handle anyway. With a loud cry, he wrenched his hand back when the door handle gave him a rather harsh shock.
"The window won't work either, Master Poty. I would listen to Mintzy because she is knowing that Master Voldy cursed it and she is not wanting to see you get hurt before Master Voldy kills you tonight."
"Any chance that you will help me escape?" Harry asked hopefully.
Shuffling awkwardly, Mintzy looked sadly down at her feet. "Mintzy is not allowed to help the boy with the bad bumpy escape. Mintzy doesn't want to make Master Voldy mad. Did you know that Master Voldy is the Dark Lord?"
"Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere." Harry said dejectedly. Walking back to the bed, he sat back down and hung his head in defeat. So this was it? After all these years of fighting for his life Voldemort was finally going to win. He had hoped to at least go out fighting or protecting someone that he loved. He didn't even have his wand on him thanks to Dumbledore.
"Mintzy is so sorry." Mintzy said softly, taking the young boy's hand. "Mintzy can't help you escape, but Mintzy can make you your favorite last breakfast. What can Mintzy get you?"
Despite being scared, Harry was feeling pretty hungry since it had been days since he had last eaten anything. "Instead of breakfast, can I have lasagna please? It's been ages since I last had lasagna and it's my absolute favorite."
Mintzy patted the boy on his hand. "Mintzy will make you your last lasagna, but she will also bring you some breakfast food." With a smile, she popped out of the room.
Left alone, Harry finally got to take a good look at the room he was in. He was shocked to find that he wasn't in a prison cell, but in an extremely lavish bedroom with a king size bed, matching dresser, desk, plush carpet, couch, and bathroom. The room itself was almost bigger then the bottom floor of the Dursley's house. This wasn't' exactly the room he would expect Voldemort to keep a prisoner in.
Speaking of Voldemort, Harry wondered where the crazed snake man was? Snake man? Harry blushed when he remembered how fucking hot Voldemort looked last night. If it hadn't been for his red eyes and his magic, he may not have even known it had been Voldemort. To think, he could have ended up back here last night and in the Dark Lord's bed and he never would have been the wiser.
He couldn't believe that he had been totally crushing on his parents murderer. Hell, even now, thinking back to how Voldemort looked and how his magic tingled around him, had him feeling a bit flustered...and in a very pleasurable way.
Harry's pleasurable thoughts were interrupted, thank Merlin, when he heard a thump and a soft hissing. Looking to the door, his eyes about bulged out their sockets when a large snake slithered through the door as if the wood was made of mist. There must have been spell on the door so the sake could go right through it.
"Hatchling must be washing his skin." Nagini hissed, rising up so she could look in her prey's eyes. "Nagini does not like eating dirty food and you reek of filthy muggle. Wash the nasty muggle from your skin so you do not make Nagini sick while I'm digesting you."
Feeling feint and sick to his stomach, Harry scooted to the middle of his bed so he was out of the giant snake's reach. "You don't want to eat me, I'm all skin and bones." He said, hoping to change the snake's mind. It was bad enough that he was about to be killed, he didn't want to end up Nagini's dinner too.
Nagini reeled back in shock. "You are a speaker! I thought my master was the only speaker? Snakes aren't allowed to eat speakers."
Sighing, Nagini slithered onto the bed. "Not fair, I really wanted to eat you."
"Well I really didn't want to be eaten!" Harry cried. "How would you like it if someone wanted to eat you?"
Nagini bobbed her giant head as she thought. "I don't think eating Nagini would be very smart, I'm extremely poisonous. But if someone wanted to eat me, I would just have to eat them first."
Harry couldn't believe that he was sitting here having a conversation with Voldemort's snake...a snake that was literally pouting because she couldn't eat him. "How about we make a deal, I won't eat you, if you don't eat me?"
"Nagini doesn't understand what you mean, silly hatchling, but if you promise to wash the muggle off of you, then I'll promise to not eat you or bite you. Just smelling you is making me sick. Why do you reek of muggle?"
"I was at a muggle bar last night dancing and hoping to hookup with one." Harry confessed unashamedly .
Nagini visibly shuddered in disgust. "You willingly let a muggle touch you. Is there something wrong with you, hatchling? What does hookup mean?"
Blushing, Harry scratched at the back of his neck. "Hooking up means that I wanted to go back to his place and sleep with him."
Nagini tilted her head to the side as she tried to work through the hatchling's words. She had been with her master ever since he was a hatchling himself, but there were still words that she didn't understand. Eyes going wide, she flinched back so violently that she almost slid off the bed.
"You wanted to mate with a muggle!" Nagini screeched in disgust. "Are you sick? Is there something wrong with your nose and head ? Muggles stink and carry diseases...and parasites! Do you want parasites?"
Harry didn't want to offend the giant snake, but it was just too much. With tears in his eyes, he bent over and started laughing. First sexy Voldemort, and now his snake lecturing him on muggle parasites...it was either cry or laugh. He chose laughing.
Nagini shook her head at the hatchling. "I think you are a very sick, sick hatchling. Maybe Master can heal you. I know, you can mate with master!" She cried excitedly. "Master needs a mate to breed, I'm always telling him that he wouldn't be so grumpy if he was able to breed. Now Nagini must warn you, he doesn't have two penisis like a normal snake, but the one he does have is huge!"
"NAGINI!" Voldemort roared furiously, making Harry jump and scurry off the bed.
Still red faced and choking on his laughter from what Nagini had just said, Harry looked down at his feet and tried to compose himself. He was literally looking at death in the eye right now, he had to stop laughing. He also had to stop thinking about Voldemort having a huge cock.
"What?" Nagini huffed unrepentantly. "Nagini wasn't lying to the hatchling, you do only have one penis. I don't understand that, but at least the one you do have is bigger than two combined. I'm sure your mate will like your one big penis very much."
Harry covered his face as he continued to laugh harder. He was going to die anyway, so why hold back. Listening to Voldemort's snake talk to him about his penis was the funniest damn thing ever.
"Crucio!" Voldemort snarled, pointing his wand at Potter.
Harry's laughter turned into pain filled screams, but almost as soon as it started, it ended.
Panting, Voldemort lifted the curse after only a second. Why the hell did the boy's screams not give him pleasure. "You're a parselmouth?" He asked in disbelief.
Unable to talk due to his throat hurting from his few seconds of screaming, Harry weakly nodded his head. Maybe laughing at Voldemort hadn't been a good idea after all. He didn't want to be tortured before being killed.
Glaring at his familiar, Voldemort pointed at the door. "Get out!" He hissed.
Shaking her head, Nagini slithered off the bed. "See, hatchling, this is what I'm talking about. If master released his seed more often, he would be less grumpy."
Harry bit down hard on his tongue to keep from laughing again. He may have only been held under the pain curse for a few seconds, but it had been bad enough to help keep him from laughing at Voldemort again.
Voldemort clenched his wand tightly as he tried to gain control of his anger. He had woken this morning with every intention of being civil to Potter in order to get the information that he wanted before killing the boy. Walking in on his familiar talking to the teen about his penis, and the boy understanding her, had shattered what control he had into a million pieces.
Voldemort waited a full ten minutes after his familiar left before addressing the boy. "Why were you at a muggle bar last night?"
Muscles still spasming, Harry sat up and looked to Voldemort, mouth going dry when he saw that he still looked hot as hell. He had thought that maybe he had imagined his appearance last night, but no, Voldemort still looked deliciously yummy. "What were you doing in a muggle bar last night?" He shot back bravely.
"Would you like me to curse you again?" Voldemort sneered.
"Not really." Harry answered as he got unsteadily to his feet. "That hurt like a bitch."
"You're very stupid for talking back to the wizard who is going to kill you in just a few hours. If you keep up with the smart mouth, I'm going to take great pleasure in torturing you before killing you."
Grimacing, Harry wiped the blood from his chin. He must have bitten through his tongue when Voldemort cursed him. "You're going to kill me anyway, and probably torture me in front of your minions, what do I have to lose?"
Voldemort smirked at the use of the word minions. That was what he secretly called his pathetic Death Eaters. "I'll make a wizards oath to you, if you answer my questions, I won't torture you before killing you."
"I want an AK to the chest." Harry demanded. "I want to die instantly and painlessly."
Voldemort wouldn't admit it, but the boy talking so casually about his upcoming death greatly disturbed him. "Deal.'
Harry tried to straighten his torn shirt when he noticed that Voldemort's eyes kept dropping down to his exposed nipple. He didn't remember his shirt getting torn in the bathroom last night, but the knock to the head had caused him to black out for a few minutes.
Forehead scrunching as he just remembered something important, Harry looked back up at the Dark Lord in horror. "You killed him didn't you? The muggle?" He just now remembered seeing a green light race over his head and hit the man he had been dancing with.
"Of course I killed that piece of trash. Voldemort snapped. "He was going to rape you."
Stumbling to the bed, Harry collapsed onto it and started rocking back and forth. "Oh my god, I can't believe you killed someone because of me. This is all my fault."
"Agreed." Voldemort growled. "This is all your fault. What the hell did you think was going to happen dressing like that and looking like you wanted to get fucked? You were all over those muggles."
"That's exactly what I was thinking was going to happen." Harry moaned in mortification. "It was cold and raining and I really didn't want to spend the night sleeping outside in that."
"So you were whoring yourself out for a dry place to spend the nice."
"I'm not a whore!" Harry screamed, his emerald green eyes glowing dangerously. "Is it so wrong to want a safe place to sleep and human companionship?"
Voldemort's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Is there something wrong with your muggle home?" He asked, honestly curious.
"Home!" Harry snorted in disgust. "That was never my home. I don't have a home. I have been homeless ever since I finished my second year at Hogwarts."
Voldemort couldn't believe what he was hearing. Potter had to be lying to him in hopes of gaining his sympathy. Dumbledore wouldn't allow his golden boy to wander the streets unprotected. "I thought you were living with your loving muggle relatives? Severus tells me you're quite the spoiled, little prince."
"Yeah, well Snape's is a nasty git who can't see past that big hooked nose of his."
Chuckling, Voldemort walked farther into the room and took a seat on the couch. "Alright, prove Snape wrong."
Harry really didn't want to tell Voldemort his life history, but it would be good to get it all off his chest and prove to everyone that he wasn't the pampered prince that Dumbledore told everyone that he was. He wasn't blind or stupid, he knew that Dumbledore was a manipulative, old bastard.
"I'll tell you my life story, if you allow me to write a goodbye letter to my godfather." Harry bargained, his voice choking up a bit. He had come so close to losing Sirius during the battle at the Ministry and it was killing him knowing that he was going to be leaving him without saying goodbye to him. He may have not known Sirius for long, but he had begun to see the man as a father figure. He had begged and begged Dumbledore to allow him to stay this summer with his godfather, but of course the bastard refused.
Voldemort slowly nodded his head. "I can agree to that, and I'll have Snape personally deliver the letter to Black since I know he's such a big fan of his."
"Right!" Harry snorted. "Maybe your snake is on to something. Maybe Snape would be less of a bastard if he got himself laid."
It wasn't often that Voldemort found himself honestly laughing, but that he found funny. "Between you and I, I think Snape's virgin. Did you know that he was in love with your mother, and still is after all these years?"
"What!" Harry cried in shock. "You're fucking with me?"
"I'm not?" Voldemort snickered. He couldn't help but find it strange that he was having a decent conversation with Potter and actually enjoying himself. "He knew your mother before Hogwarts, they lived in the same neighborhood. She's the only woman he has ever loved, but your father stole her from him."
"That explains so much." Harry said, feeling like he was having an out of body experience. "Ew, you don't think my mother and Snape ever..."
"Don't go there." Voldemort grimaced.
"Not gonna!" Harry said, feeling sick to his stomach.
"Back to the story." Voldemort said, wanting to change the topic off of Snape. "From what I know, after that Halloween night you were sent to live with your muggle aunt and uncle. You were supposed to be safe behind powerful blood wards, so I find it concerning that you haven't been for a few years now and Dumbledore doesn't know about it. He doesn't know that you are living on the streets sleeping with strangers, does he?"
"And run the risk of you getting your hands on his weapon." Harry laughed drily. "He would have drug me back kicking and screaming had he known that I ran away.
"So you are saying that you haven't returned to your relatives since you were twelve?"
"Nope!" Harry answered. "I got off the Hogwarts Express after my second year and slipped into muggle London. Dumbledore even has people watching outside my relatives house to make sure you don't find me, and he still doesn't know I'm not there."
Voldemort shook his head. "Then there are no blood wards."
"Never was." Harry admitted. "I did research on blood wards after I confessed to Dumbledore what my home life was like and begged him to not send me back, but he said I had to because of the blood wards. I learned that the person that the wards are protecting has to consider the place their home in order from them to work, well, I never considered the Dursley's my home."
"Not even when you were little?"
Pursing his lips, Harry shook his head no. "I was never wanted so I never considered it my home." He hated that even after all these years it hurt to admit that he wasn't wanted by his only blood family.
"So what did they do to you that was so bad that you would rather live on the dangerous streets of London than in a safe home?"
Biting his bottom lip, Harry reluctantly stood up. "I can't believe that I'm showing you, the man that has been trying kill me for years, one of my greatest kept secrets." With trembling hands, he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped his glamours.
"Son of a..." Voldemort lunged to his feet, damn near dropping his wand.
Harry flinched at Voldemort's outburst. "See now why I ran away?"
Voldemort couldn't believe what he was seeing. Last night, when Harry entered the bar, his eyes had been instantly drawn to the boy's perfectly pale skin on his shoulder, chest, and part of his back, but now here he stood topless, his back, arms and chest covered in ugly raised welts. His back was the worst, the welts, years worth, crisscrossed his entire back. There was hardly a section of skin that wasn't scarred.
"At first my uncle used a belt." Harry said when Voldemort didn't answer him. He was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable with the way he was looking at him. There was so much anger and disgust in his red eyes. "When I was eight he switched to whips, he was tired of having to replace his broken belts. See, my uncle is a very, very large man, and belts large enough to fit him cost considerably more."
Voldemort didn't know how the boy could joke about something like this. He was an evil bastard, he knew that and was proud of it, but even he wouldn't beat someone to such a degree to leave them so horrifically disfigured for life. Despite what people thought, he wasn't big on torturing. Yes, he loved to use the Cruciatus Curse, mostly on his own minions, but he never left someone under the curse long enough to lose their minds. He preferred a quick Avada Kedavra and be done with it.
Harry wrapped his arms around his middle self-consciously when Voldemort continued to just stare at him. He had never shown anyone his scars before, not even Sirius. "Uhm, could you please reapply my glamours? I can take them down without a wand, but I can't put them back up."
Blood boiling, Voldemort did as Potter requested. He didn't do it for the teen, he did it to keep himself from hunting down Potter's relatives and painfully killing them. For now anyway, he had every intention of killing them for daring to hurt a magical child.
"Thanks." Harry said shyly. Taking a deep breath, he returned to the bed and took a seat. "So, as you can see, I wasn't exactly raised the spoiled prince Snape swears I am. My relatives didn't just hate me, they despised me. They beat me, starved me, locked me in the cupboard under the stairs, and forced me to work like a house elf. I knew it was only a matter of time before my uncle killed me, so after an exceptionally bad summer after my first year at Hogwarts, I swore that I would never return there again."
Voldemort still hadn't come down from the shock at seeing Potter's mutilated body. What could possibly be worse than that? Clearing his throat, he too retook his seat. "Continue." He ordered stiffly.
Harry started to nervously fidget. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them, making himself look even smaller and younger. "That was the summer one of Lucius Malfoy's house elves showed up at the Dursleys and tried to convince me to not return to Hogwarts. When I refused, he used his magic to get me in trouble and I got blamed by the Ministry for using underage magic, and for using magic in front of muggles. My uncle was so furious that he kicked me out of the house during a rainstorm and ordered me not to return until morning. See, he had guests over at the time the incident happened so he couldn't beat me right away."
"Not having anywhere to go, I walked down to the park in the pouring rain and just sat on the swings like a dumb ass. I guess I could have found somewhere somewhat dry to take cover, but it was an unusually cold night out and my frozen brain wasn't working very well."
"I had been sitting on the swing in the pouring rain for about two hours when a neighbor driving by spotted me and offered to take me back to his place. Mr. Craftman was one of the only neighbors who had ever been nice to me, so immediately accepted his offer."
Gripping at his knees, Harry stopped talking while he tried to calm down his racing heart. He couldn't believe that he was talking about this Voldemort. He had tried his hardest to forget that it even happened.
With the way Potter was acting, Voldemort wasn't sure if he wanted the boy to continue. How could what happened be so bad that it still affected him so drastically four years later?
Not wanting to see Voldemort's face, Harry closed his eyes as he continued his story. As much as he didn't want to talk about this, he wanted someone to know what happened to him before he died. It was like he needed to cleanse his soul. "I was practically frozen by the time we got back to his place, even my lips were blue. Worried about me, he picked me up and carried me upstairs to his room where he proceeded to help me out of my cold, wet clothes. I didn't think anything of it at first, I was so frozen that I couldn't feel his fingers on me, it wasn't until he kissed me that I noticed that his hand was touching me between the legs."
Voldemort's heart stopped beating in his chest and it refused to restart. He had a very sick feeling where this leading and he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear more.
"I cried out and told him no, that it was wrong, and immediately he stood up and apologized. He told me that I could have his bed and that he would leave me alone. I was tired and cold so I stupidly believed him. It didn't take me long to fall asleep under the warm blanket, but I woke up a short time later with Mr. Craftman under the blanket with me, naked."
Harry brought a trembling hand up and rubbed at his cheek. "He had his arms around me spooning me from behind and I can still feel his breath on my face as he panted in my ear. One of his arms was wrapped tight around my arms while his other hand was massaging my cock. At first I tried to fight him, I knew that it was wrong and I didn't like what he was doing, but at the same time I had never been held like that or touched so tenderly."
Harry opened his eyes when he felt his tears running down his cheeks. "He was saying things to me that no one had ever said to me before. He said that I was beautiful, that I was a good boy, and that he just wanted to love me."
"Love!" Harry laughed humorlessly. "Most kids at school wanted new bikes or racing brooms, computers or video games, but all I ever wanted was to be loved. So even though I didn't want it, I let Mr. Craftsman touch me. I closed my eyes and focused on his words, hearing for the first time in my life that someone loved me."
"What a stupid shit I was." Harry spat in disgust. "I lost my virginity that night at the age of eleven, almost twelve, to a sick man who took advantage of a boy that he knew was being abused. It hurt and I cried, but I let him do it because he said that he loved me. After he finished he held me as I cried myself to sleep."
Harry finally looked Voldemort in the eyes. "How sad is it that the first person to ever hold and comfort me and tell me that they loved me was the person who molested me?"
Stomach churning, Voldemort could feel his bile burning the back of his throat. He was regretting now wanting Potter's life story. He wished that he could say that the boy was lying, but he could feel it in his magic that every word that the boy spoke was true.
"When I returned to the Dursleys the following morning, my uncle beat me until I passed out then locked me in my room where I remained until Fred, George and Ron Weasley rescued me a month later. That was the last time I ever saw my relatives."
Voldemort didn't know what to say. What was he supposed to say after a story like that? He thought he had a bad childhood at the orphanage, but what Potter suffered through was a hundred times worse.
"Do you want to hear more?" Harry asked in a small voice.
Numbly, Voldemort inclined his head.
Nodding his head, Harry took a few minutes to compose himself. That had been the first time he ever talked about Mr. Craftman. Even though it happened when he was eleven, and he was now a month shy of turning sixteen, he could still feel the pain as his neighbor took his innocence, and he could still feel and smell the man's breath as he panted harshly in his face. He knew that it was something he would never forget for as long as he lived... which apparently wouldn't be much longer.
"I don't know what I was thinking when I ran away. I had no food, no money, no place to stay, and I knew absolutely no one in the city. Hell, I had never even really been in the city before I ran away to it. All I knew was that I couldn't go back...not to the Dursley's, and not to Mr. Craftman. It was sick, but as much as I hated what that man did to me, a part of me wanted him to hold me and tell me that he loved me again."
"I-I would have allowed him to molest me again." Harry admitted shamefully. "That's how badly I wanted to be loved. I wanted him to hold me in his arms while he praised me for being a good boy for allowing him to fuck me and to tell me that he loved me."
"I'm not normal." Harry cried brokenly. "I crave touch, affection, and praise like a dying man craves oxygen. It starts out as an itch under my skin, this need for affection, and it slowly gets worse as I ignore it, until it finally becomes too painful."
"I lasted a couple weeks on the street until my hunger and loneliness finally brought me out of the shadows. I don't know what was greater, my hunger for food, or my hunger for human touch. I was too young to get a job, and stealing was wrong, so I did what I had to do in order to survive."
"I'm not a prostitute or a whore. I'm not!" Harry said fiercely. "Never once have a taken money. I find lonely men, mostly in the muggle bar from last night, and I go back home with them for the night. I don't much care for the sex part, but by giving myself to them, I get a safe place to sleep, food in the morning, but most importantly, I get loved."
"That's not love!" Voldemort hissed in disgust. He wasn't disgusted with what Potter had to do in order to survive, the kid had to do what he to do, he was disgusted in the sick men who took advantage of him. It wasn't like Harry was a kid who could pass for older than what he was. Not like him. When he was twelve, he could have easily pass for fifteen or sixteen. Harry was fifteen now, almost sixteen, yet he didn't look a day over thirteen.
"I know it's not real love." Harry said in a small voice. "But it's the only love I have ever known. Like I said before, I'm not normal. This need for touch, for human affection, it's like a drug, and I literally suffer withdraw symptoms if I go too long without it."
"It's hard to explain, but it's like I'm feeding from them. Every touch and kiss is like oxygen to me. It's not about sex, to be honest with you, I have never had an orgasm while having sex, but the feeling I get being held lovingly in someones arms, it's a million times better than an orgasm."
Voldemort stared unblinkingly at the young man in front of him. "You're right, that's not normal. It's one thing to be touch starved and to crave it, but what you're describing is something completely different. I'll have to research the Potter line more, but I have a feeling that you're going to come into a creature inheritance on your sixteenth birthday. There are some creatures that feed from humans during sexual intercourse, such as an incubus or a succubus, but since you don't reach completion during these encounters, I doubt you'll be one of those."
"Though." Voldemort added thoughtfully. "It could be because you are underage. You were forced into having sex your first time and denied human affection your entire life, it could have triggered your hunger for touch earlier."
"I wasn't forced into having sex with Mr. Craftman." Harry denied weakly. "I let him do those things to me."
"You were forced!" Voldemort snarled angrily. "You were eleven years old and him a grown man, even if you danced naked around him, he should have never touched you."
Harry felt like someone was painfully squeezing his chest. All of a sudden breathing became impossible and he felt like he was going to pass out. He could hear a loud whining sound ringing in his ears, but it took him a few minutes to realize that is was him sobbing.
He wasn't just crying over what happened. He was sobbing loud and hard. He hadn't really cried over what happened since that night, he had tried his hardest to forget about it, but now here he was balling his eyes out in front of the man that was going to kill him.
Voldemort didn't know what he was feeling right now. No, that wasn't true. He was feeling too damn much right now? What was worse, he was feeling feelings that he never wanted to feel...especially towards the damn Boy-Who-Lived. One thing he did know for sure, was that by by the time he retired for the night, he would have three muggles rotting in his dungeon. The boy's aunt and uncle and Mr. Craftman were going to pay for what they did to Potter.