I'm A Slave For You-Chp65

I'M A SLAVE FOR YOU

Harry slowly woke as he heard the sound of chirping outside the window and felt the sun coming in. He winced a little as he felt the slight ache on his ass and remembered that he had yet to heal, even though it had been a few days since it happened. Suddenly the thought of it sent a surge of rage into his system and he grabbed the nearest breakable thing he could find and threw it against the wall, venting out his anger.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, boy."

Harry almost jumped as he saw Wormtail grinning beside the bed, putting the tray of bread and water on his bedside table, while behind him levitated the medication and ice for his still throbbing butt. He scowled at him, annoyed. This ratty man seemed to be able to pop up around the area when he least expected it, and all that without even making a single sound.

"What are you, a jinn or something?" Harry scolded, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

"No, I just learn to be quiet because sometimes Master Riddle would be sleeping when I come in," Wormtail grinned, his ratty buck teeth showing. "And being a Rat Animagus gives you many advantages on being a silent stalker. Guess my training paid off."

"Well I don't like it. Someone could come in here and kill me and I would never know."

"Don't worry. No one is going to kill you. Not yet, anyway."

"Is that bastard back yet?" Harry grumbled as he watched Wormtail fixing the thing he threw with the Repairing spell.

"He'll be home in an hour or so," Wormtail said as he gestured Harry to lay on his stomach and show his buttocks. As the boy grudgingly did so, Wormtail scooped a generous amount of salve and lathered on the bruises, which were more or less in the healing process. "You know, you must try to get along with Master Riddle. He's only doing this for your own good."

"Like I care. Nothing he does is good for anybody."

"You and your mouth will really be the death of you, you know that? Good luck trying to appease him the next time you cross the line. He won't be so forgiving, oh no, he won't," Wormtail said as he finished lathering the salve until they disappeared. He then took the towel and put ice on it before wrapping it up into a bundle and slowly pressed it against the bruised butt-cheeks, earning a yelp from Harry.

"Hey, that hurts, you know."

"I know that, but you're gonna have to bear with it if you want to be able to sit down."

Harry put his head back on the pillow, allowing Wormtail to continue rubbing the cold, wet towel of ice on his bruises. A long silence ensued between them before Wormtail decided to break the ice.

"So is it true you're knocked up?"

"What's it to you?" Harry looked at him warily.

"Oh, nothing. Just curious," Wormtail shrugged. "I mean you must love Snivellus so much to keep his child."

"Snivellus?" Harry turned to face him. "O…Only Sirius called him that. How did you…?"

"Oh, you didn't know? We go way back even before you were born. It was such fun to be in a nice group along with your parents and Sirius, and it was fun to play along pulling pranks at people, Snivellus especially. Then Sirius had to break up the group because he couldn't make your mother love him."

"You…You knew my parents?"

"Everybody knows your parents, dear boy, not only I. Though I much more than others. We were never the same after we disbanded, no, we weren't."

"How…How were they like…?"

"Oh, they were wonderful people. Always there for a helping hand, but not averse to having a little naughty fun. A role model to both the school and the society. A regular Mr. and Mrs. Smith, so would the Muggles put it. Your father was the one who gave me the nickname, you know, because despite being a Rat Animagus, I could never get my tail right, and it always shaped like a worm. It was from that nickname that spawned our little group The Marauders: Me as Wormtail, James as Prongs, Lily as Moony and Sirius as Padfoot. Ah, such good times…even the Muggle-borns call us like some kind of justice league or something, whatever that Muggle term means…If Sirius wasn't so infatuated with your mother, we would've still been together…"

"Why didn't you try to regroup? Why join Voldemort instead if you loved that life better?"

Wormtail stopped reminiscing for a split second, realizing what he was doing and shook his head off his reverie, wrapping the towel of ice around Harry's ass.

"No, no, must not talk about past," Wormtail muttered as he closed the jar of salve. "Past no longer exist, yes, I'm no longer their little sidekick, yes…"

Harry watched in confusion as Wormtail quickly gathered himself and left with the empty ice basin and the medication, muttering incoherently to himself as he walked quickly out of the room, locking it with a charm as he went. It was like looking at Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. One moment he was all chatty and nice, then all of a sudden a withdrawn, babbling fool. What exactly had Voldemort done to him to break him so? He was almost glad that he was getting bread and water for the moment. The morning sickness still lingered and even when he was fed decent meals, he couldn't swallow down much anyway, and probably Wormtail was inexperienced to know what to prepare for a pregnant person. Lucius would know, since his wife was pregnant with Draco, but then again, he probably couldn't care less about his welfare anyway. All he ever wanted was to fuck anything that moved.

Today's bread was with strawberry jam. At least Wormtail made an effort to let his bread taste better, and by the way he placed the bread, he knew he had done it in secret so that Voldemort would not know. At least that showed Wormtail still had a little bit of humanity left in him.

As he ate, he stole a look at his long hair. Looking up at the mirror of the repaired dressing table, he knew his friends were right when they said he was beautiful rather than handsome and could pass off as a girl anytime. He remembered the look Wolfen Blaine-Potter gave him when he said he was Harry and yet looked nothing like a person with the name Harry. He remembered the horrified look he had as he saw all the Aurors stationed outside his home totally mutilated by Voldemort without even trying. Voldemort had somehow managed to make a Patronus up in the air and within the clouds to scare the entire proximity of the Dementors with effortless precision and without alerting Wolfen of his presence and he remembered the look of disbelief as the man he had and his family tried to escape from was right there in front of his eyes, totally unscathed. He remembered the screams of horror as the rest of the family woke up from the commotion Voldemort made killing Wolfen, the cries of children, the metallic smell of blood…

With a vengeance, Harry grabbed a pair of scissors from inside the drawer and literally hacked off his long hair. Locks upon locks of ebony black slid down his shoulders and fell to the floor as he snipped away, getting rid of the look that made him and everyone Voldemort targeted so vulnerable. As he cut away, silent tears rolled down his face. He cried for his fate. He cried for his predicament. He cried for his parents that have died trying to protect him and doing what was right. He cried for the humiliation he was put in. He cried for his inadequacy to save himself from his plight. He cried for the people he had helped Voldemort kill. He cried for the friends he might never see again. He cried for the safety of his baby that hung in the balance.

Most importantly, he cried because he missed Severus so badly right now.

"Aww, you missed me?"

Harry spun round to see Voldemort coming in. When he came closer, he saw that he was wearing whitish Muggle attire, and they were literally stained in blood, and he was walking up to him with an equally bloody pillow case containing something that jingled and jangled as he moved. Wiping his tears hastily, Harry could see the unscathed look on Voldemort suggested that the blood was not his, but his jaw still fell open and there was fear in his eyes at what he had done to earn such a mortifying look. Voldemort smirked smugly at his reaction.

"If you're thinking about my wounds, I don't have it, so don't worry."

"No, why would I?" Harry frowned.

"What have you done with your hair?"

"Nothing."

"No lies, boy, or else," Voldemort looked at him solemnly in the eye.

"I'm not lying. You're just too full of yourself. And…it's none of your business," Harry looked away.

"It is my business when I see my slave cutting off the hair I personally elongated!" Voldemort snarled as he emptied the pillow case, revealing blood-stained jewelry. "To think I went through all the trouble to get you a present and this is what I come home to see!"

Harry looked at the jewelry that clattered onto the wooden floor before him. There was a silver ring, an emerald ring, a gold chain, a gold ring and five other pieces of jewelry that definitely belonged to people who were no longer alive. He swallowed nervously, realizing just how crazy Voldemort can really be.

"I go all out to get you something to make you feel better about your little pain in the butt and I come home to see this! Are we being naughty again?"

"I don't need your gifts. I don't need you to give me anything. I just want you to either let me go or kill me."

"Oh, you really are tempting fate, aren't you, Liat?"

Without warning, Voldemort took his hand and pulled him close before capturing his lips to a deep kiss. Harry struggled against the kiss and ended up biting his lip until it bled and forced Voldemort to let out a muffled yelp and let go.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Harry screamed as he pushed him away, backing up against the window to distance himself from him.

"Fuck! Liat, you little bitch!!" Voldemort groaned as he nursed the bleeding lip, his eyes glaring at him dangerously.

"I don't want you to touch me! I don't want to have your hands anywhere on me! You disgust me, you fucking murderous pervert!"

"You are being naughty again, Liat. What did I say about resisting?"

"And my name is Harry. Harry James Potter. Not fucking Liat!" Harry scowled, knowing that tone meant he was in for a punishment but stood his ground despite his skin crawling.

"You will be sorry for this."

With that, Voldemort stomped off, slamming the door out loud and locking it. Harry slid down against the window to the floor, curling his arms around his knees as it cradled his tiny baby bump gently. He already was starting to feel sorry, not for Voldemort, but for his baby. He feared that he may be pushing his luck and earn a punishment that might cause him to lose his child, and he scolded himself of his stubbornness and stupidity. He would take this punishment with his head held high, but he hoped that third remains a charm for him and the child, and that fate would be kind to him again this time.

Surprisingly, the punishment didn't come. In fact, as Wormtail took him out of the room for his daily walk out in the backyard, Voldemort had ignored him completely. He didn't want to talk to him, acknowledge him or even look at him. He went about his business as if Harry was not there. Harry knew it was not that simple, and kept his guard on just in case. Wormtail did his usual routine of tying the chain on the backyard lamp post that served as a marker between the mansion and the forest behind and left him there for that routine one and a half hour of fresh air. Harry waited until he left before he went down on the grass and lay on it, breathing in the scent of nature.

His mind wandered for a while to the days when he was still inarticulate, when he would be out in the gardens with Severus as he played around, plucking the petals out of flowers (earning an angered shout from the Head Gardener) and laughing with Neville as he told him the story of the day. His thoughts lingered at the peaceful smile of happiness Severus gave him as he sat at the backyard table, drinking his tea and watching his antics. As he rolled back onto his back looking at the clouds, they looked like it would rain. He would welcome the rain to wash away his heartache if it weren't the fact that being out in the rain would get him sick and harm the baby.

"Severus, I miss you."

Suddenly, he felt himself being picked up by the choker from behind and being blindfolded. He tried to fight but the other party was stronger. He knew it wasn't Wormtail because he knew from the way he was pulled up and by the strength of it that it did not fit Wormtail's physique, but he couldn't tell whether it was Voldemort or Lucius without being able to see the perpetrator. He then was released from the lamp post, pulled up on his feet and hauled over the person's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, carrying him what felt like the direction towards the house. Harry frowned. Was this the punishment Voldemort had promised? But if so, wouldn't he, the glory hog and egotistical bastard, announce it to be so?

Whoever it was refused to make a sound as he carried Harry into his bedroom. He was thrown onto the bed and the blindfold charmed so that he couldn't take it off before he heard the stranger going out of the room and presumably downstairs to get the thing he needed for the punishment.

"V…Voldemort…?" Harry voiced out. Where was he? Was this even him? Those were some of the thoughts that crossed his mind as he tried in vain to peel the blindfold off.

Soon the person returned. If he were not blindfolded, he would've been able to see that the person came back with a bundle of rope. Using a spell, he tied the rope onto the ceiling and fashioned a noose before picking Harry up and dragging him to the noose. He tightened the noose around both Harry's wrists and, with another spell, made Harry's nightie slip off his body, leaving him bare.

"Voldemort, if that's you, just say it and stop playing games!"

The person still did not say a word. Harry could hear him accio a hairbrush—probably the same one he used to spank so hard him a few days ago—and a belt. He felt cold fingers brushing past his little baby bump and along his ass, preparing him for what was about to come. It felt almost as cold as Severus' when he first touched him in a sensual manner, but this was nowhere near sensual. It was a biting cold that chilled him to the bone, making fear crawl up and down his spine. It was then that Harry confirmed who his perpetrator was.

"M…Milord…?"

"You know I'm doing this for your own good."

So saying, said Voldemort let one fly with the hairbrush, in which Harry bit his lip hard to not cry out. The boy did not give him the satisfaction to beg for mercy and forgiveness as Voldemort kept on going for about 15 minutes or so, not holding back on the spankings with the brush. By that time, Harry had lost count on how many times he had been spanked as he was sweating and probably going to have permanent teeth mark on his lips. His once healing butt went black and blue again, sporting a bit of purple here and there as the torrent of blows came down on him long and hard without discrimination before it finally came to a stop.

"Do you yield? Are you sorry for cutting your beautiful hair?"

"Shut…the fuck…up…" Harry breathed, his tears staining the blindfold.

"Then I am not going to let you off that easily."

Without warning, Voldemort picked up the belt and let one fly onto Harry's side, dangerously close to his baby bump. That was when Harry knew he was serious, that if he didn't yield his baby would die. Voldemort carried on whipping him, mostly on the butt but some stray whips onto Harry's side, all of them dangerously close to his child in him.

"No, no, stop! No! D…Don't hurt my baby!!"

Voldemort would have none of that. He whipped some more, moving towards the front as he let Harry's legs suffer the wrath next. No matter how Harry begged for Voldemort not to hit his baby, he just moved higher and higher, whipping the calves first before moving threateningly upwards to his thighs, getting closer and closer to his belly. Harry, fearful for the child, finally threw away his pride and begged in wailing agony.

"Please forgive me, milord!! I'm sorry!! I'm sorry I cut my hair!! I won't do it again, please~!!"

"Will you be good this time?" Voldemort asked as he let a warning whip fly near his side.

"Yes! Yes! I'll be good!" Harry screamed out desperately. "Milord, please!!"

"Good, and just you remember…"

Voldemort turned his attention to Harry's butt once more, whipping him hard until Harry's pleas became incoherent—more like a mix between babbling, crying and sobbing—before deciding he had enough punishment for one day. He threw away the belt and removed the charm off the blindfold before taking it off and cupping his cheeks harshly.

"Have you learnt your lesson?"

Harry nodded, still sobbing. He just wanted Voldemort to stop hurting his baby. He would do anything if he would just lay his hands off the child.

"Don't make me do this again, you hear me, Liat?"

With that, Voldemort released him from his binds and stomping off the room, ordering Wormtail again to nurse his wounds while leaving Harry to curl up in a fetal position sobbing his heart out.

--:--

Severus found himself dressed in white in vast space of colourless emptiness. The white on his clothes blended in so well with the surroundings that he felt as if he was wearing the Invisibility Cloak that only revealed his head, his hands and his black shoes. His footsteps echoed as he walked, unable to tell where the floor ended and where the wall or ceiling began. He tried to make out his surroundings and see if there were an end to this abyss but sadly there was none.

He found himself walking towards a black chair in the middle of nowhere. He looked around to see if the chair belonged to someone but there didn't seem to be anyone claiming it. He circled the chair once, twice, but there was no foul play. Tentatively, he took a seat on the chair, wondering what was going on.

As soon as his butt rested on the chair, the setting suddenly changed into the likes of a Victorian living room like a flowing motion, revealing himself sitting on a couch facing the fireplace. This time, he was not alone. Sitting beside him on an armchair was Kaleb Iason, his old flame, dressed in Victorian attire but with a small rug wrapped around one of his hand.

"K…Kaleb…?" Severus breathed. He had not seen him for a long time, and there he was, appearing out of the blue.

"Lemme guess, why am I here instead of your pretty little pet?" Kaleb grinned deviously. "Simple, because he doesn't want to see you."

"Wh…What are you talking about?"

"Need I spell it out for you? He – doesn't – want – to – see – you. Period. Don't blame him though, after what happened to your son."

"M…My son…?"

"Are you really as dumb as you look?" Kaleb rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Here's a visual aid for you."

Almost abruptly, Kaleb stood up and unveiled the rug on his hand, revealing a bloody fetus that had its umbilical cord still attached and was the size of a kidney bean. It took a few seconds for the sight to sink into Severus' head before he jumped and cowered away, only to find himself falling on his ass onto a concrete floor. The breeze that hit his face made him realize that he was sitting on a balcony of a Muggle building, with Kaleb sitting on the edge of the balcony with Harry on his lap.

"H…Harry?! Harry, what are you…You keep your hands off him, Kaleb!" Severus said as he got up. He tried to move forward but some sort of invisible force was holding him back.

"He won't hear you, Severus," Kaleb poked at Harry's cheek, in which Harry remained unresponsive as he stared blankly at nothing in particular. "He doesn't want to see you. He doesn't even want to look at you. You couldn't even protect him, let alone your son. You're better off without them."

Without warning, Kaleb leaned back, holding Harry tightly in his arms as he fell down possibly 50 feet below. Only then the invisible force holding Severus down was gone and Severus ran to grab Harry, but it was too late…

--:--

"Master! Master Snape, please wake up!"

Severus' eyes shot open at Neville's voice and shaking. He sat up abruptly to see both Neville and Colin looking at him worriedly. It took him a few minutes to get his bearings as he panted breathlessly to recover from his nightmare before he hastily wiped his tears away, although it wouldn't really matter since they already saw it.

"What time is it?" Severus asked, trying to sound normal as possible without giving away the choked tone.

"It's quarter past five, Master," Neville replied. "We were doing our usual chores when we heard…"

"Mr. Hugo just firecalled," Colin cut short Neville's words and shot him a glare before turning back to Severus. "He was wondering when you will be done with the Acne Potion because his prom is coming up soon."

"At least they have not barred me from doing this part-time job of mine," Severus muttered, hiding his eyes with his hand, pretending to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Thank Merlin for loyal customers. I'll get to it right away just as soon as I freshen up. Go change the roses on the bedside table. You know how Harry likes it fresh."

"Yes, Master," Neville said as he picked up the vase of slightly wilted red roses and took it to the kitchen. As Colin cleaned the vase, Neville went out to the gardens for a few minutes before returning with a fresh bouquet of roses—white ones, this time—to put in the vase, sighing as he said, "Master Snape's nightmares are getting worse every day."

"It's understandable, what with Harry's disappearance and all," Colin replied as he got started on making Severus' breakfast.

"I wonder if Harry will survive long enough until Master Snape and the Aurors find him and rescue him. So far, Mistress Granger and the Dumbledore's Army are not exactly making any progress, and the Daily Prophet has begun to show signs of this Voldemort character getting back on track with his murders on Harry's bloodline."

"He'll be alright," Colin said half confidently. "He has the heart of a lion and a spirit of a warrior. He'll pull through. I'm sure of it…I guess."

Neville nodded quietly and fingered one of the flowers in the vase. Suddenly the flower turned from its original white colour slowly into blood-red, then to black. Minutes later, it burst into flames and wilted into ashes in his hand. Neville gasped silently and quickly patted the ashes off his hand and the table as it scattered. Luckily, Colin was too engrossed in breakfast-making to notice.

Neville remembered his grandmother telling him about such occurrences.

It was a form of prediction. A sign.

He turned skywards to see the clouds moving rapidly by the sudden strong wind as the sun began to rise. He sighed uneasily as he walked back to Severus' room with the roses.

What will become of our dear friend?