Work Text:
The manor was entirely silent as the masked death eater walked the hostage to The Dark Lord’s private study. They tried to keep their breathing at bay, their heart felt like it was about to rise up their throat and fly out of their mouth. They had been forcefully taken from their ancestral home after word had gotten out of their rare gift.
True seers were extremely rare and their family had done everything they could to keep them a secret. They hadn’t even attended Hogwarts despite the defeat of Voldemort. Even by the time they finished private schooling at home, The Dark Lord still hadn’t risen to power for a few more years. So now that their parents' worst nightmare had come true, all the secrecy surrounding them had been in vain.
The death eater halted in front of the door and raised an arm to knock. A beat paused before a voice from inside acknowledged their presence. Once the death eater received confirmation from their lord, he opened the door and let them inside.
The captive was left alone with The Dark Lord and a shiver ran down their spine when they heard a lock click.
“I’ve been meaning to see you for some time now.” Voldemort's face held an impassive expression, yet it wasn’t difficult to imagine what it could possibly be hiding.
They gulped as Voldemort began to circle them. Their back went rigid but they tried to mask their face into a neutral expression. His red eyes had an unknown glint as he ran his gaze around them.
“Tell me, I heard a very interesting rumor and I wish to know if it holds true.”
“What do you wish to know?” Their throat felt dry as they spoke.
“Is it true that you are a seer? Is it true you have premonitions?”
They carefully placed their hands behind their back, so he couldn’t see them nervously fiddling with their hands. “Yes, my lord, although seeing the definite future is incredibly difficult due to the complexity of every aspect of someone's actions and their consequences.”
“How do these visions work?”
“They used to be involuntary but I have since gained some control over them. Touching something or someone can cause me to see something. They don’t always make complete sense and sometimes it can lack context.” The words left their lips in an almost robotic manner, they found themselves unable to hide their apprehension.
“Remarkable.” he strokes his chin in interest, “And to think you’re practically a child with the way you’ve been isolated from the world. No one around to properly mold you into a real person.”
They didn’t let themselves frown however the corners of their lips twitched in shame. Their parents might have had good intentions however, locking them away in their room, with only a select few of people being allowed to know of their existence, growing up they had no equals. Until death eaters broke into their home and kidnapped them, they’d never even met someone their own age.
“If this is true you would provide quite a service to me.” The Dark Lord came to a stop directly in front of their prey. “Reach out your arm.”
They tentatively held their arm out between them. The Dark Lord made no immediate move, for a moment it seemed like he doubted them. Voldemort then wrapped his large hand around their forearm.
The effect was instant. Their hands clenched and their head fell forward. It felt as though they’d trip but the fear of falling into The Dark Lord's arms kept them upright.
What they saw wasn’t reassuring. Instead of seeing a battle, a murder, a scene straight out of a horror novel or something more expected, they DID see themselves in Voldemort's arms, or rather between his legs. The dark robe covering his pale body was unfastened, it draped over his shoulders and down the sides of the table. His large hands were tangled in their hair as he guided them up and down his length. His red eyes still held an unrecognizable glint as he watched them work.
The wind felt as if it had been knocked out of them once they returned to the present. Not wanting to seem too discomposed in front of The Dark Lord, they took long calming breaths. Voldemort withdrew his grasp and simply waited for his captive to regain their breath.
“What did you see?”
Although they regained their composure, their heartbeat still pounded against their ribcage. “It’s not what you expected.”
Voldemort's straight faced mask cracked, his gaze sharpened, and his mouth grimaced. “Is it the boy! That blasted Harry Potter?”
“No my lord-“
“Then what.” His voice boomed.
“It wasn’t anything too far ahead in the future. It was most likely just a few minutes from now.”
“And? What happened?”
“You were standing in front of your desk and I was kneeling.”
Voldemort could interpret their words as anything, they found no reason to lie. The vision isn't guaranteed to come true and a multitude of other scenarios were possible.
“I see, you must have accepted to join my side.” His mouth formed a smile, though it looked odd on his snake-like face. “I must've been rewarding you with a dark mark.”
He walked over towards the desk and took out his wand. “I typically perform something a bit more ceremonial however the sooner I mark you the better.” He beckoned them over with a simple flick of his hand. “I wouldn’t want you falling into the wrong hands.”
They weren’t sure if they felt relieved or disappointed. On the one hand, they wouldn’t have to blow The Dark Lord but, on the other hand they would now bear the mark of the beast. They carefully dropped down to their knees in a bow to The Dark Lord before them.
“That is all you saw, correct?”
“Yes, my lord.” They kept their head deliberately bowed as they spoke. Their eyes were meticulously glued to the edges of his robe to distract themselves.
“Look at me.”
Their head raised warily and as their eyes met his, goosebumps spread across their body. Voldemort twisted his fingers in their hair, keeping them in place in a painful position. The fear mixed with the underlying arousal was too much for them. They couldn’t hide their thoughts from a master of legilimency. They felt something slither through their memories like a snake, surely checking to see what they were hiding. A cold sweat ran down their back as The Dark Lord violated their consciousness.
Whatever he thought of the vision wasn’t clear to them however, he looked amused as he stared down at them thoughtfully. They gulped again, whimpering.
“You’ve had an interesting fantasy.” An idea formed into his head “I have a wonderful proposition.”
Their mind reeled. What was happening?
“I will give you a shot at redemption. I saw what you were doing, go on and demonstrate it for me.”
They regard the world around them for a second. They know it’s wrong but the second the robe was opened, their morals flew out the window and they settled their hands onto his exposed hips. They leaned forward as they wrapped one hand around him and began pumping his hardening length. To their delight, Voldemort hardened quickly. Taking him into their mouth as far as they can, still stroking what they can’t reach with their mouth, they looked up at him. Releasing pleasant noises as they lapped at him, swirling their tongue over his slit.
Voldemort's jaw clenched while watching the show they were putting on for him. He closed his eyes to savor the feeling before he pulled out. His hand once again settles in the others hair. They felt wrong for hoping it would stay there. Their own hand resting behind his thigh, digging their fingers against his skin. The other hand went back to his hip.
“I enjoy watching a show. Yes, very good crumbling at my feet. It looks beautiful.”
They open their mouth, and Voldemort holds his cock at the base and brushes the tip against their swollen lips. They feel shameful as they become so agonizingly aroused as they moan when Voldemort pushes forward even more. They close their eyes and try to breathe through their nose. The scent and taste of their dark lord clouds their senses. They’d willingly stay there for hours, Voldemort resting warmly in their mouth.
Then he moves.
Voldemort places both hands on either side of his head and pulls out before roughly pushing back in. He starts at a slow and steady pace, the shame is still prevalent in their mind but they brush it off. They can feel him hitting the back of their throat. They’re being used. First for their gift, and now for their mouth and tongue. Used for the sake of Voldemort's pleasure. He is the only one in control. He’s setting the rhythm with his hips and they have no control over it.
They moan at the exhilaration.
They moan again when Voldemort cuts through his steady pace and makes a sharp snap with his hips. They run their tongue on the underside of his shaft, tasting and savoring the flavor. They wanted him to ruin them, to carve his being into them, to mold them into whatever he wanted. Something fragile, something unrecognizable, something no one else could save. They wanted him to own them.
Voldemort switches up the pace and thrusts into their mouth, agile, vigorous, and unrelenting. They feel themselves melting into his touch. Before they can reach down to relieve themselves, Voldemort pulls away from their mouth.
“I see a future for you.” Voldemort takes himself in hand.
He holds their head in place as he starts working himself the rest of the way to the edge. They close their eyes just in time as he finishes on their face. He paints their face in white. They breathe through their nose to conceal their panting.
“You’ve done well. Now, make me decent.” He generously rubbed their eyelids clean.
They lapped at the remnants from Voldemort's tip with their tongue. Although they didn’t get the chance to release, they felt refreshingly satisfied. Then they tucked him back into his robe and refashioned it for him. They do it carefully and methodically so as to not aggravate him, then sit back on their heels.
“What you’ve shown has pleased me. I could use your power to ensure I am always one step ahead.” Voldemort guides him back onto his feet.
He places a cold pale hand on their cheek and brushes his fingers along the hair by their temple. His expression looks content, but not particularly endearing. They leaned into the touch but didn’t allow themselves to fully let their guard down. The Dark Lords seemingly erratic act of intimacy could just be another form of intimidation. Although they found themselves not particularly concerned with that fact.
“I could’ve used someone like you in my early days.” The Dark Lord seemed to be reminiscing, “Yes, you would’ve proved quite useful.”
He moved his thumb to hook into their mouth and push down on their tongue as he seemed lost in thought. They enveloped it, lips plush against the base and their tongue swirling over the knuckle. Voldemort was pushing in and out in a slow rhythm.
“You’ll do what I ask of you.” He pulled back his thumb and ran it along their jaw.
“Yes, please, have me.” The slick trail came to a halt as he held onto their chin.
As his grip tightened they were once again thrust into another vision. This one however made even less sense. All they saw was a handsome young man with black hair as the vision swirled around multiple flashes of the mysterious stranger. They had no clue who he could possibly be or how he was connected to The Dark Lord until he looked into his eyes. Striking brown, almost red tinted eyes stood before them. It was as if drops of fresh blood had dripped into his irises. His hair was meticulously styled with one dark curl perfectly loose from the rest of his hair. None of Voldemort's unfortunate features could be made out in the man’s handsome visage but it was undoubtedly him.
One name was floating around their mind.
Tom Riddle.
Everything came to a startling halt once Voldemort released his grasp.
“If I may ask my lord, what do you plan to do with me?” Their brow furrowed in slight desperation.
The Dark Lord gave a chilling chuckle in response and patted their cheek. He squeezed their shoulders and then started walking past them. They quivered as they listened to his footsteps walk out the door and their knees shook when the door was locked from the outside.
All they could do was wait for him to return.