Chapter Text
On the night of June 1st, 1995, Lord Voldemort awoke suddenly from a strange dream.
Had he been anyone but the Dark Lord Voldemort, the dream may have been mundane, almost unremarkable. Unbearably juvenile, yes, but ultimately not worth any further thought.
But he was Lord Voldemort, and the dream was wholly incongruous, particularly when slotted between the visions of conquest and utter domination over the unworthy that routinely occupied his mind as he slept. The dream was particularly strange in its sweet innocence – not once before in his life had the Dark Lord dreamt of chastely holding hands with a boy in the bloody Transfiguration Courtyard of Hogwarts. He had had dreams of forcing such boys to their knees to choke on his cock, of setting his minions to fuck them until they forgot their own names, of molding them into slavering pets, able to do nothing but beg for Death Eater cocks. Dreams of handholding? Hardly.
The dream was so bizarre, it was nearly suspicious. In fact, Lord Voldemort realized as the last remnants of sleep left him, it was suspicious. The boy who starred in it had been vaguely familiar, too – this was more than enough to warrant further investigation.
With practiced ease, Lord Voldemort slowed his breathing and plunged into his mindscape. He quickly located the remnants of the dream near the top of his consciousness. It had a strange quality around its edges that could not wholly be attributed to sleep, and which he resolved to explore in depth later. More importantly, as Lord Voldemort studied the memory, the identity of the boy rose to the surface, like a pearl left behind shifting sands.
Cedric Diggory.
The realization provoked more questions that it answered. This proved, at least, that the dream was not prophetic – the boy was quite dead, Wormtail had made sure of that. Further, if this was a vision of the past, it was not from the perspective of the Dark Lord.
The implications flooded Lord Voldemort’s mind in a torrent – the dream was not natural. Somehow, the sanctity of his mind had been compromised.
The spike of wrath that followed this realization was enough to wake Nagini through their Horcrux bond. Lord Voldemort could feel her confusion and rapidly growing defensiveness as she rose from slumber, ready to protect him from the threat. He sent a quelling sensation down the bond, and she shifted uneasily, coiling smoothy, but ultimately obeying the implicit order. This particular threat was not physical, and she could provide no help.
Lord Voldemort let his breathing cycles slow once more as he sank deeper into the recesses of his mind. This time, he scoured the space for foreign elements, anything with a magical signature different from his own. The horcruxes occupied a nebulous area deep beneath his conscious mind, and he was reassured to find all seven bonds intact, with Nagini’s bond more active than the others–
And yet, when he explored the seven-pointed structure that had formed when his glorious quest for immortality had finally reached its apex, he found in its place an eight-tiered structure. Worse, one of the bonds in the structure was not simply muted like many of the others – it appeared to be absent entirely, leaving behind an impression formed in shadow and dust.
As Lord Voldemort studied the new structure in growing dismay, his attention was drawn to the bond directly opposite Nagini’s. While it paled in comparison to Nagini’s brilliance, it still throbbed softly, as if alive.
Or rather, as if its vessel were alive.
Mind whirring, Lord Voldemort withdrew from his psyche more roughly than he had intended. On a mission, he rose, threw a set of robes over his sleepwear, and made for the library of Malfoy Manor to throw himself urgently into research.
ϟ
Four hours and twenty-three minutes later, after scouring dozens of books, several unpublished manuscripts, and a half-disintegrated scroll in ancient Sumerian, Lord Voldemort set down his reading, reviewed his notes, and began to laugh uproariously.
ϟ
(Later, when he visited a cave along the British coast and found nothing in it but a replica locket with a note signed R.A.B., the Dark Lord’s rage was incandescent – but for once, not all-consuming.
As he studied an Inferius with wavy black hair, distinctive grey eyes and sculpted Black Family features, he carefully detached himself from his fury. After all, the situation was contained. While the traitor (and didn’t that just gall him) had succeeded in destroying a shard of his soul, the turncoat had also died in the process decades ago. The bonds of the other Horcruxes were all intact. There was no reason to believe that any living soul had an inkling of the true extent of Lord Voldemort’s brilliance.
More importantly, the tide of the war had turned before the first battle had even properly begun. Thanks to that saccharine dream, Lord Voldemort’s victory was now assured – and he and his most loyal servants would take particular pleasure in ensuring it came to pass.
Of that, Lord Voldemort was certain.)
ϟ
“Lucius, attend me.”
“At once, my lord,” said Lucius Malfoy, lord of Malfoy Manor and newly active Death Eater. He approached the desk at which the Dark Lord was currently seated, surrounded by stacks of rare and valuable books. Lucius’s lips quirked when he spotted some of his own favourite titles: On the Keeping and Maintenance of Pets, Copulation Beyond Procreation for the Discerning Gentleman, and, of course, An Annal of Carnal Modifications (some ancient Malfoy ancestor had scratched out one of the “n”s in Annal, a feat which had titillated generations of teenage Malfoys ever since).
Of course, the Dark Lord had already proved himself intimately familiar with the contents of each of these books many times over. Their presence therefore did not offer Lucius any hint as to the reason that his Lord had spent hours upon hours shut inside the study over the past week. Since the resurrection ritual that had restored the Dark Lord to full power, Lucius had been wary of his Master, particularly after that rather embarrassing scene in the graveyard that had culminated in the escape of the Boy-Who-Lived. More recently, the Dark Lord’s time had been spent resting to restore his strength, as Lucius attended to the organization and upkeep of the suddenly reinstated Death Eaters with direction from his Lord.
“Walk with me,” the Dark Lord ordered as he rose, snapping Lucius out of his reverie. He swept out of the study in the direction of the east wing, and Lucius hurried to keep pace with the man’s long strides. His Lord’s resurrected body was imposing – lean and pale, stark and menacing, with almost translucent skin stretched over sculpted bone. Every movement of that body was measured and graceful, belying a physical control that impressed Lucius, given the length of time his Lord had been occupying it.
Truly, this wizard was a higher being, destined to establish his absolute, righteous authority over the unwashed masses of Wizarding Britain and beyond. Lucius counted himself fortunate that he was among those precious few to share in his Lord’s glorious plan. Lucius knew his place – and while it was subordinate to this living god, it also afforded him his own dominion over almost all others in the coming world order.
Exactly as it should be.
“Your hospitality is appreciated, Lucius,” the Dark Lord eventually said.
“It is an honour to have my Lord in my presence once again,” said Lucius, and it wasn't a lie. As he spent more time in close proximity, he could feel the Dark Lord’s magic rolling off of him in waves, intoxicating in its strength. Lucius’s own magic paled in comparison to the raw magnitude of a disturbance that the Dark Lord could create simply by existing in the same space. Lucius had forgotten the feeling of such strong, heady power surrounding him, encompassing him, as it always did after any extended time in the presence of his Master. It was intoxicating. His bones ached beautifully as they passed by the terrace overlooking the eastern gardens, which were resplendent in the early morning light, as always.
A Malfoy deserved nothing but the best, after all. That lesson had been taught to Lucius at his father’s knee, and he had taught it in turn to his son.
“And not one word of a lie,” The Dark Lord remarked, letting amusement creep into his voice. “Shall Lord Voldemort take your words at face value, for once?”
Lucius felt his shoulders tense. “My Lord knows that I would never seek to withhold information.”
“And yet that, my friend, was tinged with shades of mistruth,” said the Dark Lord, almost absent-mindedly, even as his magic thickened in the air. “But Lord Voldemort is a merciful master, and your actions have made great strides toward correcting your grievous errors during my… unplanned absence.” He paused in front of the double doors leading to the second-largest drawing room in the Manor and turned to face Lucius, who hesitated to meet his gaze. “You are not yet forgiven your lapses, Lucius. You have grown indolent on the profits and prestige of your family name, and with indolence comes complacency. I fear that you are no longer as hungry as you were for the spoils of our glorious undertaking. Tell me, Lucius, when we ascend, how may I be certain that you will be ready to assume your rightful place beside me?”
Lucius’s eyes widened, and he flushed despite himself. “My Lord knows that-”
“Calm yourself, Lucius.” The rebuke was edged with disappointment, and it succeeded in making Lucius feel like a petulant child. “I do not seek to enumerate your faults. On the night of my rebirth, I saw that many among my Death Eaters have forgotten the consequences of their actions.” Lucius suppressed a shudder. It had been weeks, Avery still could not entirely suppress the twitching of his muscles from the Cruciatus. “You, I think, are not among them. No, Lucius, I believe you have instead lost sight of what awaits us once the war is won.”
The curve of the Dark Lord’s bloodless lips was familiar, and suddenly Lucius found himself wondering-
The Dark Lord’s smile widened.
He swept the double doors open, and Lucius’s breath caught. There were few outside the Dark Lord’s service who understood to what extent the Dark Lord treasured his inner circle above all others. While much of the Dark Lord’s… behavioural correction toward his faithful was heavily punitive in nature, at times it took the form of reward, especially at the expense of the lesser beings over which they were to rule.
Within the drawing room was the most encouraging reward that Lucius had received in years.
On the floor, in the centre of the room, was a pet of around fifteen or sixteen. It was male, with sprawling, coltish legs, softly muscled shoulders, and a light dusting of public hair leading down to a graceful, respectably sized cock. It wore a thin black leather strip around its neck, adorned with a copper ring indicating its status as a Muggle. The pet was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and it produced soft whimpers and moans as it fucked itself enthusiastically on a black dildo as thick as Lucius’s fist, its cock flopping up and down with each vigorous motion.
When Lucius and the Dark Lord entered the room, the pet didn’t even have the presence of mind to stop moving, the obscene length of the fucktoy upon which it sat sliding smoothly in and out of its arse. The pet’s moans were nearly obscured by the wet slapping sound made by the pet’s sloppy arsehole as it violated itself with the dildo.
Lucius found his cock straining against his trousers. The pet’s eyes were blown out, its pupils so large that no colour could be distinguished around them. As Lucius studied it, the pet met his eyes, and its tongue lolled out of its mouth as it panted like a bitch. The volume of its whimpers increased now that it had an audience – clearly, Lucius thought, it was enjoying itself. As if to prove the truth of Lucius’s observation, the pet renewed its efforts, driving the massive dildo into its arsehole with violent rolling thrusts against the drawing room floor. Its cries rose into a fever pitch, and the gorgeous thing actually sobbed with need as it desperately chased its completion.
Despite the pet’s best efforts, its orgasm didn’t seem to be within reach – Lucius knew the effects of that particular testicle-binding spell well. He was therefore not surprised when, after a long bout of vigorous, deep, thrusts, the pet collapsed, exhausted and out of breath but still hard, a glowing band of magic tightening around its balls. Despite its obvious frustration, it still rocked back against the giant rubber cock up its arse, as if it couldn’t help itself, and reached for its own nipples, tweaking them roughly as it rutted against the floor.
Before Lucius knew it, he was striding across the drawing room, cock and balls out of his trousers, and grasping the pet sharply by its chin. Its skin was hot and humid, and its tongue darted out to taste Lucius’s thumb. Lucius plunged that thumb into the hot, wet crevice, and was delighted to find it silky-smooth as the pet sucked with abandon, its eyes drifting shut in bliss. Lucius studied its face – the flush adorning those cheekbones, the thin, almost feminine eyebrows, the already swollen lips – and felt a strong urge to paint it with his cum.
Swearing, Lucius palmed his thick, heavy cock and brought it to the pet’s mouth. The slut’s lips fastened around its head, giving a sharp suck to drain the pre-cum that had welled up in the slit, then immediately took Lucius deep, moaning in pleasure as it continued to hump the thick dildo.
Lucius was shocked to find himself already bottoming out down the slut’s throat, his heavy balls resting against the pet’s chin. He looked down, only to be met with the delicious sight of the pet’s watering eyes, and its nose pressed directly to Lucius’s pubis. Lucius watched in fascination as the pet slowly turned red around his cock, eyes fluttering but never closing, even as it choked around his member. When the pet was just on the edge of passing out, Lucius withdrew, slapping the pet’s face with his cock as it drew desperate hacking breaths through thick globs of spittle.
Lucius threaded his hands through the hairs at the back of the pet’s head before it could fully regain its breath and roughly shoved the pet’s face toward his balls. The pet took the hint and sucked Lucius’s left ball into his mouth, working the shaft with its hands. Lucius took the opportunity to press its nose hard against his ballsack, forcing the pet to breathe through the musk and sweat.
And still, the pet rocked against the massive toy cock up its arse. Lucius was in the perfect position to watch as the toy disappeared between the pet’s rounded cheeks, the hole stretched obscenely, nearly split open on the massive rubber dick. Lucius swore as the pet pulled away from his balls with a loud pop and ran its mouth up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, before taking the head in its mouth once again. Saliva covered the pet’s chin as it begged Lucius with whimpers and moans to fuck its face once again.
Lucius was happy to oblige it, taking the pet by the back of its head once again and roughly shoving his whole cock down that welcoming throat. He felt his orgasm building in his balls as his hips jutted forward of their own accord, roughly fucking down the pet’s gullet in loud, rapid thrusts. With a groan of triumph, Lucius shot his cum down the pet’s throat, withdrawing through his orgasm to paint the pet’s face white. The slut’s tongue followed his cock as he pulled out and did its utmost to savour the cum that had landed on its lips and in its mouth. Its eyelashes fluttered, and it let out a delightful sigh as it cleaned Lucius’s softening cock, licking and sucking the limp member until Lucius pushed it away and backed up a few paces, regaining his breath and savouring the picture.
The pet’s lips, which had been plump before, were now red and swollen, and its hair was dishevelled. Its cock was still throbbing and hard, jutting proudly outward, and its hips still rolled reflexively on the dildo. As Lucius, watched, the pet reached up again to tweak its nipples, but a sharp word from the Dark Lord stopped it before it could.
Lucius started; he had entirely forgotten his Lord was in the room. Tucking himself away with great dignity, he met his Lord’s eyes and was relieved to see approval there.
“You have done well, Lucius,” said the Dark Lord with great relish. “Lord Voldemort is not without faith, but I will admit to concerns that you had lost a taste for some of the sweeter harvests of our labours.” His gaze swept to the pet, which was humping the floor pathetically, its balls still caged with magic. “This one’s training is coming along – in fact, I would say that it deserves a reward. What say you, Lucius? Shall we allow this pet to earn the privilege of cumming? This is only its second week of training, but it is making remarkable strides for a filthy animal.”
Lucius looked deep into the pet’s desperate eyes, looking for some hint of intellect or sentience in those blown-out pupils. He was unsurprised when he found none. Muggles were a lesser species, not good for much more than menial labour beneath even a house-elf. Occasionally, a Muggle could make a halfway-decent pet, but they were too quick to fall apart for Lucius’s tastes. It appeared that this one was not much different from those he had broken in during the last war.
“I believe it has earned an opportunity to prove itself, my Lord,” said Lucius, after some consideration. “Of course, its future performance must dictate whether it has earned something as luxurious as release. One mustn’t overindulge one’s pets.”
“And do you have a test of this performance in mind, my friend?” The Dark Lord’s voice was light and curious. Lucius knew an opportunity when he saw one. He smiled.
“Tibby!”
With a pop, Lucius’s personal elf materialized. “Master?”
“Bring Brutus around.”
“At once, Master.” Just as quickly as it had appeared, the elf was gone. Lucius offered his Lord a seat in one of a pair of plush armchairs near the bookcase in the corner and poured him a generous measure of cognac from a nearby decanter. By the time the alcohol had warmed Lucius pleasantly, Tibby had returned, leading a massive hound on a lead. The dog’s muscles rippled and tensed through its skin – without the magic of the lead, the elf would easily have been bowled over. As it was, the dog strained against its restraints until Lucius ordered it to sit.
In the middle of the room, recognition bloomed in the fuckpet’s eyes, and for the first time, it looked uncertain, glancing between the massive animal and Lucius himself.
Placing his cognac on the table, Lucius stood, noticing the Dark Lord leaning forward with underplayed interest. Lucius approached the pet and snapped his fingers. Well-trained, the pet kneeled at attention despite the massive dildo in its arse, hands on the back of its head, cock thrust forward wantonly, head bowed.
“Look at me,” Lucius ordered it.
Slowly, the pet’s head rose until its eyes met Lucius’s.
“You are being afforded a rare opportunity today. If you please me, you will be permitted to cum.”
Despite itself, the pet’s hips jerked at this.
“At my signal, you will present, and you will push that dildo out without the help of your hands. Brutus will mount you, and you will take his cock like a good little whore for our entertainment. If you can take Brutus’s knot up your sloppy arsehole and let him breed you like a proper bitch, you may be permitted to come around his cock.”
The pet shivered, licking its lips. It couldn’t keep its gaze from darting nervously back to the massive dog, which was once again straining against its lead. Lucius snapped his fingers again, and the pet’s gaze darted back to his fingers.
“Complete this task, and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and not cumming will be the least of your punishment.” Lucius let a slow, sadistic smirk grace his lips. He turned briskly and retook his seat beside the Dark Lord, whose indulgent amusement at the scene was apparent. Lucius turned his head back to the pet. Its eyes were shut.
“Present,” Lucius ordered.
Shaking, the pet did as ordered. It leaned forward on its knees, chest to the floor and arse in the air, palms stretched in front of its head. The black dildo slid partway out of the pet’s slick channel with an indecent squelch, causing the pet to blush against the floor, even as blood flooded to its cock. It shifted nervously, awaiting Lucius’s next order.
“Good whore,” said Lucius, cherishing yet another deep red flush. “Now, push out that thick cock plugging your arse.”
The pet braced itself, then strained. The dildo shifted slightly in the right direction. The pet let out a whimper, then slowly began to rock back and forth, trying to dislodge the enormous toy with increasingly desperate thrusts backward into the air. After a few thrusts, it found a rhythm, and Lucius watched in fascination as the toy slid, slowly but surely, out of the pet’s channel. There was more of it than Lucius had thought – the pet was not large, and the thing must have reached deep. The thought was stimulating, and Lucius found himself flushing with warmth despite his recent orgasm.
Suddenly, with a loud, wet popping that was positively obscene, the rubber dildo broke free of the pet’s arse, bouncing once on the carpet, then rolling until it met the leg of a nearby table. The pet let out a gasp that immediately choked off, and the light around its balls flared, undoubtedly fighting its orgasm.
That was good. The pet hadn’t nearly earned it yet.
Lucius’s gaze slid to Brutus. There was tension in every line of the dog’s body, and it was fixated, nearly pointing at the pet. Brutus was no stranger to fucking pets – indeed, one of Lucius’s favourite indulgences was watching a hound mount one of his toys, though he hadn’t had the opportunity to witness it nearly often enough. It had been years since the last time Lucius had indulged this particular perversion – so he certainly wasn’t about to give up this opportunity.
“Brutus,” said Lucius, “Mount.”
Released from its restraint, the dog immediately bounded forward, its thick red shaft protruding from its furry sheath. The pet twitched again, tensing, but ultimately stayed in position as the dog circled around it, sniffed at its hole. The dog whuffed in approval and reared up to set its paws on the pet’s back, hips jerking forward as it sought the pet’s hole. The dildo had succeeded in opening the pet up, and so Brutus had no trouble locating the pet’s arsehole with its cockhead and plunging its thick length deep into the bitch.
The pet let out a truly delicious scream, which tapered into sobs as the dog rutted with short, deep thrusts. The dog was rough, brutal, and completely uncaring of its bitch’s comfort, drooling slobber all over the pet’s spine which dripped into its hair, claws driving deep rents into the soft skin of its back. The pet gasped with every thrust, desperate for air but never quite managing to catch its breath. Brutus’s furry ballsack slapped the pet from behind, even as those balls drew up tight while the dog approached its completion.
Tears were streaming down the pet’s face now, and Lucius couldn’t help himself from reaching into his trousers and freeing his half-hard, throbbing cock, stroking it in time to the hound’s thrusts. The dog panted onto the pet, driving its hips powerfully forward, jerking and stuttering, and the pet was actually driving its hips backward to meet the thrusts, moans escaping from between those bruised lips. The pet’s fingers curled desperately above its head, but it had been trained well, and even now, it did not reach for its cock. Lucius’s fingers gently rolled his balls as his thumb worked the thick vein under his shaft, fucking roughly into his fist. He made eye contact with the pet even as Brutus shoved forward more roughly still.
Suddenly, Brutus have a massive thrust. The pet’s eyes rolled up and it let out a drawn-out, mindless moan as Brutus shoved its knot deep into that greedy arsehole, hips still jerking as doggy cum coated the pet’s insides, flooding the abused channel. Pet and dog panted together, even as they rocked through the dog’s last few thrusts, the knot linking them together intimately. To his surprise, Lucius found himself coming apart again, spurting all over the upholstery of the armchair.
Brutus collapsed on top of the pet, which was almost crushed by the weight of the giant animal. Neck pushed at an unnatural angle, blush staining its cheeks, the pet forced itself to meet Lucius’s eyes, pleading and desperate, its request obvious.
Lucius raised an eyebrow, and turned to the Dark Lord, even as he put his cock away. “What say you, my Lord? Has the pet earned its release?”
The Dark Lord took a sip of cognac, a pleased smile on his lips. He savoured the mouthful, the silence in the room broken only by the dog’s pants and the pet’s nearly inaudible whimpers, deliciously lewd given the scene in front of them.
“The pet has performed sufficiently,” the Dark Lord finally said. “Let it earn its release in the completion of a final task.” The Dark Lord rose and strode over to the pet. “You have finally learned to appreciate your place in the natural order,” he said, and twitched his wand upward, forcing the pet’s chin up to meet his eyes. The pet did not dare jerk away. “Lord Voldemort is merciful, and you have performed well. You may cum, pet, but only as you milk another orgasm from the knot of the hound that has mounted you.”
The pet’s breath was coming in rapid, uneven spurts, even after the Dark Lord released its chin and made his way back to Lucius, back turned to the scene even as the pet began to roll its hips, clenching around the dog’s member in its arse. The Dark Lord resumed his seat and drained the last of the cognac from his glass. Lucius knew better than to interrupt his Lord in this mood.
After a few minutes of the pet’s increasingly enthusiastic rutting backwards into the dog, the Dark Lord spoke. “You have proven your drive to me this day, Lucius. Lord Voldemort will not forget this display. Indeed, you may have just proven yourself suitable for a particularly sensitive task that may well prove the critical assault of our present conflict.”
Lucius snapped to attention, even as the pet’s thrusting distracted him. “I would be honoured to assist my Lord with such an important task.”
“But?”
Lucius paused. “But, my Lord, I admit that I fail to see how the breaking in of a pet could possibly win us the war.”
“I cannot fault you that, Lucius. Your imagination, though plentiful in some areas,” as this, the Dark Lord gestured absently in the direction of the filthy tableau in the middle of the drawing room, “is sorely lacking in others. Consider this, my friend: who, among our enemies, has been a major player in both the previous war and the current one, presents a clear obstacle to my rightful ascendance to power, and is susceptible to this manner of tactic?”
Lucius pondered. The obvious major players were Dumbledore (who really bore no further consideration in matters of the flesh), Fudge (the less said, the better), and Amelia Bones (whom Lucius could not see succumbing to this type of reprogramming. The pet in front of him was desperately grinding itself against a filthy dog cock in an attempt to milk a second orgasm from it, and Lucius could not picture Amelia Bones in its place for a second). That only left one candidate.
Seeing the answer in Lucius’s eyes, the Dark Lord’s lips curled. “Just so, Lucius, just so. Harry Potter will be ours – and by the end, he will be begging for cock as surely as that filthy Muggle slut over there.”
It was at this point that the Dark Lord was interrupted by a loud moan, as the dog released yet another load of thick cum up the pet’s arse. The pet was too far gone to be coherent, drool dripping out of its open mouth and mingling with the dog’s.
Lucius’s Master raised his wand, an almost indulgent smile on his lips. “Lord Voldemort is a man of his word,” he said, and with a wave of his wand the glowing ropes around the pet’s bollocks dissolved. The pet screamed as it shot cum all over the carpet, arse clenching once again around the dog’s thick cock. “And I give my word, Lucius, that within the year, Harry Potter will be begging for Death Eater cock, of his own volition.”
At this, the Dark Lord stood, and motioned for Lucius to follow him. Lucius joined him at the door, sparing a glance for the pet. It was still sobbing, this time in pure bliss as Brutus, still locked inside it, jerked its hips, dislodging the knot and causing a spurt of thick dog cum to leak out of its arsehole. The pet, well-trained, immediately turned around and lapped up the mess, even as the dog tried to force its hardening cock into the pet’s mouth.
Lucius turned his back and strode out of the drawing room after his Lord. They had much to plan, and for such a substantial reward. Lucius could already picture the Potter boy begging sweetly for his cock. Once again, Lucius was grateful that his father had been wise enough to bring him into the fold. He strode onward, toward his Master’s impending victory and the new world order.