Grazhir :: Harry Potter :: Control Issues :: 11 :: Red

11 • Red

“Because some people should be a living reminder to all of the price of betrayal. . . .”

Lupin sat there for a few seconds, tears still streaming down his face, then suddenly looked up. He reached forward and picked up the yellow pill, then flung it violently through the bars before curling up on the floor to await his fate.

Harry turned his head back to Voldemort and said, “Aw, that’s so sweet. That showed quite a bit of courage on his part, sending off his only easy way to death. I think warping his mind won’t be so difficult after all. Still, I must wonder what would have happened if he’d taken that one instead. I mean, his reaction when he realized it didn’t do a damn thing might have been priceless. And then I could have indulged in a spot of physical torture. You know, they used my weakness against me as torture, that being sex, so it might have been a great deal of fun to use his against him and whip out a bunch of silver to play with.”

Voldemort chuckled. “You’re definitely not going soft on me.”

Harry managed to look offended. “I said I wasn’t. Listen, we’ve got about twenty minutes or so while that little drug cocktail works into his system and softens him up for my meddling.” He licked his lips and started tracing idle patterns on Voldemort’s chest, then said, “I would really, really like if you’d make love to me, Tom.”

Voldemort stifled a sigh. Harry was giving him that wide-eyed, hopeful look again that, if left long enough, would morph to include a pout, complete with artistically trembling lower lip and terribly sad eyes, and past that, fat crocodile tears and an expression better found on a five year old waif living on the streets of London and begging for a crust to fill their tummy—or so he supposed. After all, he had always caved to Harry’s requests before his mate had a chance to pull out the really big guns.

“Harry, my sweet, we are in a dungeon,” he said gently, not at all adverse to the idea of making his mate writhe beneath him in passion, but wanting to get a bit of his own back first for once.

“We’ve got fake walls and a nice enough spot,” Harry protested. “And I want you so badly.”

“I am not going to make love to you in a dungeon. Even I have limits, my sweet.” And then he slid a hand up under his mate’s shirt and just barely brushed his fingertips over the scales on his back.

Harry’s eyes instantly closed and he swayed forward dangerously, then suddenly sat up straight with a miffed expression. “That is so not fair. You can’t bloody tease me like that and not follow through, Tom.”

Voldemort gave his mate a satisfied smirk. “Oh, Harry. You can say all you like, my sweet, but perhaps that’s what happens when you start giving me ‘that look’ to cloud my mind and get your way.”

“Look? What look? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry protested, appearing quite confused.

Voldemort tipped his head down and to the side, then arched a brow. The corner of his mouth curled up slightly, completing a knowing look shot at his mate.

Harry had the grace to look embarrassed and shift uncomfortably on his lap before saying, “Oh. That look. We could . . . go up to your office?” The hopeful eyes were suddenly back.

Voldemort’s mouth twitched in amusement as he lifted his head. “All right, Harry. Let us go upstairs, then.”

He was further amused when once in his office his mate practically shredded his clothing in his efforts to get naked, then lowered himself onto the desk’s surface, his ass right up at the edge. At least Voldemort had had time to cast a cushioning charm first.

Round about twenty minutes later he was hauling a limp Harry up off the desk, feeling a bit wobbly himself. “Get dressed, my sweet. You have a prisoner to play with.”

Harry glanced at his clothing and snorted, then shook a wand into his hand and cast a few repair spells before dressing. After that he pressed a kiss to Voldemort’s lips and skipped back down the secret stairway.

Voldemort found Harry sitting on a stool in front of Lupin’s cell, so he settled himself back into his chair and resumed drinking wine. He found it mildly interesting that the werewolf was sniffing the air and licking his lips. Or at least, until Harry started in again. Perhaps he liked the scent of sex.

“Lupin,” he said, “can you hear me?”


“You’ve chosen to place yourself in my hands of your own free will for at least the next four years. So, given that, I’m going to start setting up some rules for you, the first of which is that your name is Moony from this point forward. You will not answer to Remus or Lupin any longer. Do you understand?”


“Very good. I’m sure you’re wondering just what exactly your service to me will be. You’re going to start paying me back by experiencing a bit of what my life was like for the past few years, however mild a version this may be, and you’re going to be my pet, Moony, my tame werewolf or dog.”

Lupin managed to look the teensiest bit alarmed by that, but his drugged state prevented him from caring enough to actually protest.

“To that end, you’ll be undergoing quite a bit of training and conditioning to make sure you can adequately perform your new role in life. You will obey my orders without question, Moony, and you will submit to me in all things. That will also be true for any other person I designate as a handler for you. Do you understand?”

Lupin hesitated, but said, “Yes.”

“Good boy, Moony. Keep this up and I might even give you a reward. Now, we’re going to start off with some interesting little toys to help you out.” Harry looked back over his shoulder and said, “Tom? Would you please help me for a bit?”

Voldemort set down his wine and stood, coming to stand next to his mate. “What do you need, Harry?”

“I don’t think he’s going to misbehave just this moment—I don’t think it’s possible in his condition—but I would like if you’d stand ready to knock him flat if he so much as twitches the wrong way while I get him set up.”

“Certainly.” Voldemort produced his wand again and stood slightly off to one side.

Harry stood up and summoned a large box, then opened it and rummaged around. “Okay. I’m going to open his cell.” Then he turned to Lupin and said, “You will not attempt to leave your cell, Moony. You will not struggle, or protest, or otherwise give me any trouble.” A quick spell unlocked the cell door, so Harry opened it and dragged the box in with him.

“Hold out your right hand, Moony,” Harry ordered, then nodded when the man obeyed. He reached into the box and removed a pair of what closely resembled fingerless gloves. However, the material did not allow for separation like normal gloves would, and essentially prevented the wearer from spreading their fingers apart, or even independently up and down. Though, while worn, they would allow for individual fingers to bend at the knuckle separately from each other.

After placing one on Lupin’s right hand he asked for the other and likewise dressed it. Both gloves were spell-locked to prevent removal by anyone other than Harry himself. The next thing Harry said was, “Get on your hands and knees, Moony, and remain still.”

He pulled a vaguely complicated harness out and proceeded to strap Lupin into it, which effectively prevented the man from ever standing upright, nor lay out flat. Lupin would be forced to crawl everywhere, and would have to take his rest on his back or side. That was also spell-locked into place.

The next thing from the box was a heavy collar, which Harry put around Lupin’s neck and locked, then ran straps from the harness to it and locked them into place as well.

Voldemort watched as his mate paused and seemed to be considering something, then reached back into the box for another harness of sorts and what looked like what had been used on Severus, minus the barbs. Harry fit the cylinder into the harness, then inserted it fully into Lupin’s ass and clipped the straps of the new harness to the first so that his new pet couldn’t remove it.

“Right. That should do for now,” Harry said, then pushed to his feet, exiting the cell a moment later. “Moony, follow me,” he ordered, then stepped through the false wall and into a much larger area.

Voldemort also followed, keeping a close eye on the crawling Lupin and a ready wand, then sat back down in his chair and had a sip of wine.

“Sit, Moony,” Harry said, then summoned the stool over and sat down. “You feel very good right now, don’t you, Moony?”


“That’s right, pet. And for so long as you obey like a good little dog, you usually will feel good. Now, all those nice things I just put on you—the gloves and the harnesses and the collar? I feel it’s only fair to warn you that all of them are internally threaded with silver, Moony. If you were to do something silly like try to break them or shred them, you’d end up in a severe amount of pain and give yourself silver poisoning. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Lupin nodded.

“And if that happened, I might well let you die a slow and agonizing death for being too stupid to live. I suggest you be a good little doggy and not mess with them. The pill you took has had the effect of more or less stripping you of any will to resist, but it won’t last forever. It will, however, make it very easy for you to obey me for the time being. Now, since I don’t particularly want to have to drug you on a regular basis, I have a little something different in mind.”

Voldemort watched as Harry proceeded to talk Lupin into some sort of deep trance—he assumed it was the hypnosis his mate had mentioned earlier—and reel off a list of rules for the werewolf to live by and obey. Harry then established a few phrases to cause Lupin to return to a trance when spoken—by him only—or wake back up to a more normal state of consciousness.

Interestingly, Harry did not attempt to force Lupin to obedience. Instead he used directives such as, “You feel a very strong desire to obey,” and, “You derive pleasure from obeying orders.” Voldemort thought that afforded all sorts of opportunities for mischief. Lupin could attempt to rebel, but over time his conditioning would get him to obey without hesitation, slowly warping his mind.

Harry finally stood up and stretched, then asked, “Do you like that sensation, Moony? Having a cock in your ass?”

Lupin nodded dreamily.

“And do you like to suck cock, Moony?”

Another dreamy nod.

“Excellent. Stay.” Then he wandered back over to the cell area and did a bit of rearrangement, making three of them join together to make one larger cell, a third of which was designated as a human-sized litter box. Harry softened the remainder of the floor so that Lupin wouldn’t bruise himself excessively moving about, then pulled a bowl out of the box and set it down, filling it with a kind of kibble a few moments later.

An odd little water tank was set up; the only way to get any water was to . . . suck the cock-shaped protrusion. Harry also affixed another sex toy to the wall at just the right height in case his new pet felt the urge to impale himself at any time for the duration that the cell was his home. The last thing he did was produce a overly large poofy cushion of sorts, presumably to serve as Lupin’s bed. Harry then called out, “Back in the cell, Moony.”

The extra harness set up was removed, the plug spelled clean, and hung on a hook on the wall. “By the way, Moony, you are forbidden to use your hands to give yourself pleasure. Dogs don’t have hands, remember? They have paws. So unless you’re flexible enough to suck your own cock. . . . I’m going to go away for a while, so you do whatever it is doggies do, Moony. I’ll be back later on to see how you’re doing, and see about a bit more in the way of conditioning. Once I’m sure you’ll behave yourself, I might take you out for a walk and give you a nicer place to call home.”

Harry backed out of the cell, dragging the box with him, then closed it and locked it. Lupin just sat there on his haunches, staring at him. Harry was at Voldemort’s side a moment later saying, “I think I’m ready for bed.”


The next day Harry went back to the dungeon, this time as Lord Thanatos. When he stepped up to the cell door it was to see Lupin curled up on his bed, though the man’s eyes opened quickly. “Hello, Moony. Do you recognize me?” Lupin looked confused by the question so Harry said, “Come a bit closer, pet. See if you can figure it out.”

Lupin slowly uncurled and got on all fours, then cautiously crawled closer, almost imperceptibly sniffing the air. Then he sat back on his haunches and aimed a puzzled look at him. “Harry?” he whispered.

“Correct,” Harry said. “In any case, you should get used to seeing me like this. It’s my new thing, being the co-ruler of the Death Eaters. They know me as Lord Thanatos, and by this guise. Now, the only people aware of that little fact are myself, Lord Voldemort, and you, so if word happens to get out, I’ll know to come find you and show you just exactly how creative I can be when I’m angry. Henceforth, you are forbidden to call me Harry. If you wish to use a title, Moony, refer to me as master. Are we clear on this?”


“Very good. Now, until I am satisfied that you’re going to be the very best pet you can be, this will be your home. I will visit you on a regular basis to make sure you have food and water and that your sandbox is cleaned. And during those times I will very probably subject you to training. After that point, I have a nice little spot planned for you where you can enjoy the grass, and sunshine, and probably a fair number of visitors who’ll want to play with you.”


Harry nodded. “Of course, Moony. Dogs like to play. They like to please humans, don’t they. But don’t worry, I won’t let anyone cause you harm. By the time we get to that point I or Lord Voldemort will have picked a few people to keep an eye on you so that everyone plays nicely together.”

Harry conjured up a stool and had a seat, then said, “Moony, grim reaper.” Lupin slipped into a trance, which made Harry smile broadly. He spent the next hour bringing him in and out of one, then woke him up and moved things along.

“And are you enjoying your water dispenser, Moony?” he asked maliciously.

Lupin flushed and dropped his head.

“You did tell me you liked to suck cock, pet, so I made sure you had at least one to play with. I can see, though, that unless you cleaned up after yourself with your tongue, you haven’t used the one on the wall. I’ll have to set up some sort of automated system whereby certain things down here will be spelled clean without human intervention, such as your sandbox and that lovely penis I stuck on the wall for you to use if you got bored.”

Harry didn’t bother to mention that the water supply was faintly laced with a little something; Lupin probably already realized that given his enhanced senses. “And speaking of which, if you do manage to get yourself off at some point, I do expect you to clean up, Moony. I don’t want to come down here and find you’ve left puddles of cum all over the floor. That would upset me, and then I’d have to punish you.”

He could see a fresh flush blossom on Lupin’s face. That either meant he had already managed it and licked away the evidence, or was starting to feel the effects of the aphrodisiac he was forced to ingest whenever he drank. Harry idly wondered just how well a battery operated device would function within the compound and made a mental note to try that out if he got the chance.

“I am going to give you a bit of a treat, though, so you have something to look at. After all, dogs don’t read, so I can’t very well give you any books.” Harry whipped out a wand and did a bit of work, eventually ending up with two fake windows along the back wall of the cell. One of them appeared to look out over the training field he used for his exercise while the other was focused on one of the training rings the squads used.

“Well, I have things I need to do, Moony, so I’ll just be on my way for now. Try to behave yourself while I’m gone, and I’ll be back later to check on you.” Harry got up, vanished the stool, and walked away, ending up in that same training field a short time later for a workout, and hopefully to firmly impress upon his pet just how dangerous his new master was.


Voldemort was headed toward the kitchen when he noticed that Mrs Black’s portrait was not empty, and promptly diverted into her room.

“My lord, I have some information for you.”

“Remain,” he ordered, then stepped back out and out of sight and nudged Harry’s mind with an image of her. He received back a sense of agreement, so waited, and several minutes later his mate arrived. Voldemort returned to the room and took a seat, Harry sitting down a second later. “Report.”

“My lords, Phineas Nigellus decided to speak to me. He has informed me that he did tell Dumbledore about the betrayal by Ron Weasley, then suggested I make that known to any interested parties.”

Voldemort arched a brow. “That does not confirm his allegiance.”

She shook her head. “He did not make that plain, my lord. And, it has been some time since that incident, so he’s waited quite a while before approaching me.”

“Have you noticed that members of the Order have been exceptionally quiet of late in the hall?” asked Harry.

She appeared to think about that, then said, “No, my lord. I have not noticed such a change. However, Dumbledore did spend a lot of time in the front hall today, spell casting. It was near the front door. I think he might have been setting a trap of some kind. Unfortunately, he was sure to keep his work quiet, possibly simply to avoid attracting my ire.”

Harry glanced over at Voldemort and arched a brow, the question in his look nearly as good as spoken. Voldemort said, “Continue to listen. Pay attention to any changes in their habits, such as refraining from all speech within your range. If possible, verify exactly who that spell work is intended for. It may well be that Nigellus has decided to assist us, but that will have to remain an assumption for the time being. You may return.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, then stepped out of the frame.

They both rose and exited the room, it being an unspoken agreement that they would not broach any delicate subjects within her range of hearing. Voldemort led the way to the kitchen, being hungry, and went to prepare a meal once they arrived, only to be pushed out of the way.

“Tom, you can barely cook breakfast, never mind anything complicated. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long to be honest,” Harry said with a touch of amusement in his voice. “Sit down and let me do it. You’ll eat something decent for once.”

Voldemort did so, feeling rather touched by the gesture, especially as Harry had been forced to learn to cook to begin with by his family. “You’re wondering if that possible trap is for Ron, you, or either?”

Harry looked over his shoulder and nodded, then yanked out any number of things out of the supply cabinet and tossed them on the counter. A couple of minutes later he slid a small salad onto the table along with a fork and a glass of juice. “Now eat. There’s more coming.” As he continued to work his arcane magic on food he said, “It’s possible that Dumblefuck set a trap for one or either of us. He might finally be getting suspicious given that I’ve not really turned up. I guess it’s possible that he thought I starved, or even that some enterprising soul found me and decided to keep me hidden away once they realized my weakness.”

Voldemort opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off immediately by a Harry who hadn’t even turned around. “Eat, not talk. I’ll be damned if I’m going to cook and have you not even taste it,” his mate admonished, then continued, “You know, I have to wonder about how his mind works. I can almost see him questioning at this point if maybe Ron found me. Like . . . a Ron who had already gone to the dark side tripped over me and decided that you might like me as a present, and then brought me to you. After all, I should think anyone capable of delivering Harry Potter to Voldemort would shoot right up on the appreciation scale.”

Harry shuffled sideways and did some more arcane things Voldemort could not see, then said, “It’s fairly easy, after all, to prevent people from finding you with spells. Well, unless you happen to have a good grounding in the Dark Arts and are willing to go that route. Maybe we’re talking about a Ron who didn’t feel appreciated. He wasn’t much more than a lackey as it was, and Hermione certainly did her best to do his thinking for him. Maybe that sort of Ron would consider such an action if he’d found me, thinking that you’d give him some actual power as a reward.”

Harry turned to face him with a plate in one hand. “Good, you’re done.” He stepped forward and slid the plate in front of him, then took a seat himself.

Voldemort looked down to see a perfectly grilled chicken breast accompanied by roast potatoes and broccoli. “How on earth did you manage to cook this so quickly?”

Harry shrugged. “Magic. I figured at some point I’d be living on my own and should probably know more than just the muggle way, so I taught myself. Dobby was always happy to provide me with supplies when I was at school. Now eat, damn it. Don’t let it get cold.”

Voldemort hastily picked up his fork again, then took a knife from the plate, and started in. There was no way he was going to waste such a thoughtful gesture from his mate. “Harry,” he said between bites, “this is wonderful.”

Harry positively beamed at him and nodded. “For the time being I don’t think I should try to go back into that house. I’m also starting to think I should place my other properties under the fidelius charm or something along those lines. I’m going to be really pissed off if I find out that Dumbledore has moved another one of his flaming ostriches into that house in London.”

Voldemort gave him a quizzical look.

Harry rolled his eyes before saying, “Well, all right. Flames for the whole phoenix bit. Ostrich? Half of them are quite happy to stick their heads in the sand and hope the bad men go away.” Then he paused, tapping his lower lip with one finger. “You know, a good clue as to what he’s thinking would be if he did something like re-cast that charm on headquarters, don’t you think? That is to say, if Ron were proven to be conclusively dead. Then we’d know he thinks I’m a danger, or the danger.

“Then again, I suppose I can’t see why he would unless that happened. He’d want to capture Ron, or me. And if it was only cast with Ron in mind, and I went back in, they’d know if his appearance was reported again that someone was faking, which means there really is a traitor in the Order, or I’m the one behind it.” Harry raised his brows at him.

Voldemort nodded, and still didn’t attempt to speak.

“If it was cast with me in mind, I don’t particularly feel like risking being caught. I can fight my way out of really nasty situations, but that doesn’t do me any good if I’m unconscious, and I should think, if the man has any brains at all, that he’d want his targets knocked out at first.”

Harry paused again, this time giving him a soulful look and pointing at his meal. “You really do like that? You’re not just trying to spare my feelings?”

Voldemort rolled his eyes. “Harry, this is exquisite. I am enjoying it immensely. I would be very appreciative any time you wished to cook for me.”

Harry beamed another smile at him. “Maybe I just will, then. And you did say I could take care of you, Tom. Honestly, if you were a muggle you’d be the type to eat only microwave dinners, sandwiches, and junk food, simply because none of it is difficult to do.”

Voldemort shrugged off that remark knowing that his mate was probably correct. And frankly, the idea of most people preparing food for him was a prospect sure to make any paranoiac giddy with suspicion. He realized the only person he did trust not to try to poison him was Harry himself. So he finished his meal as he listened to his mate continue to voice his thoughts, then set down his cutlery with a replete sigh and sat back.

“Do you want any kind of pudding? I noticed some raspberries in there.”

“No, I really am full, Harry. Thank you.”

“Well, at some point I’ll have to interrogate you on likes and dislikes, but not right now,” Harry said as he rose and nabbed all the dishes. Those went into the sink for the scrubber to attack, so his mate turned back to him and said, “So, what do you think?”

Voldemort paused for a split second, decided the question had nothing to do with that meal, and said, “I think you’re right. It’s too much of a risk for you to return to that house. And while I can understand wanting to protect your properties in some fashion, you can only hold one Secret, Harry. You can’t protect all three that way by yourself. There’s only two of us, and no one else I would trust to assist.

“Also, doing so would make certain things very clear to Dumbledore. He might believe you could have gone renegade, but if those properties disappear off the map, he’s going to suspect you first, and not believe you’re barely eking out an existence in the back alleys of London accosting random strangers for your meals.”

Harry furrowed his brow and nodded. “I can accept that.”

“So, let’s play pretend for a few minutes. Let’s suppose that Ron Weasley really did join the Dark Lord. Whether he was the one to deliver Harry Potter or not, he could have proved his loyalty by delivering Remus Lupin. You could, if you felt like some mischief, go out as Weasley, stir up a hornet’s nest or two on a vaguely plausible mission, and make sure that several wizards or witches saw your face, not to mention saw you casting the Dark Mark into the air before you left the area. That would do a great deal to convince Dumbledore that one of his people has turned on him and no longer gives a damn about hiding it.”

Harry’s eyes lit up as he said, “And oh, wouldn’t that just make Mrs Weasley feel like a complete failure. That’s torture right there without even having her in the same room.”

“That would be one side benefit, yes,” Voldemort agreed.

“But what sort of mission?”

“I know you don’t like the idea of killing people simply for the sake of creating terror, so. . . .” Voldemort considered for several minutes. “The first thing that comes to mind is a very public kidnapping of Neville Longbottom, though that assumes the young man has any sort of freedom. But, I can only see you doing that if you actually wanted to find out what’s been done to him, so you could decide whether or not to help him.

“The next idea would be to hit a target in Hogsmeade. I happen to own quite a bit of property there under various names. I shan’t mind sacrificing some of them to muddy the waters if you wished to play a pyromaniac, Harry, and make the residents believe you’re trying to burn the whole village down.” His mate gave him a sharp look, prompting him to add, “Empty properties. Though, you’d be surprised at the number of fine, upstanding wizarding folk who actually pay rents to me.”

Harry started laughing at that and shaking his head.

“Well, my sweet, one does need funding in order to keep an army of wizards going, and that’s one fairly simple way to generate some ready coin. Besides, I find it amusing that all those nice people supporting the Light are actually shelling out to pay for their own terror. It’s like purchasing a ticket to watch a horror film, and not realizing you might actually end up as one of the victims.”

Harry doubled over, resting his head on the table, and kept right on laughing.

“In any case,” he said once his mate’s amusement had settled somewhat, “I can send Lucius off to the Ministry to see if he can determine if Weasley is currently on the list for the aurors. We might also want to send off a note to Skeeter to see if she’s stumbled over any gossip about him.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, sitting up straight, “and before we bother planning anything out in detail. I might do both, but we’d have to talk about it beforehand, what to do with Neville depending on what we find once we’ve tiptoed through his tulips. If we kidnapped him and made it look like Ron did it, and it turns out Neville isn’t someone I’d want to kill, then. . . .”

“It would be a bit much for another one to escape, I agree. You take care of Skeeter, I’ll talk to Lucius.”

“Okay.” Harry checked the time and grimaced. “I’ve got to dash. Told my boys we’d be having a meeting and I’ll be late if I don’t get going.” He pushed back quickly and stood, then rounded the table to press a kiss to Voldemort’s lips before jogging off.


A few evenings later Voldemort was enjoying a late night snack while reading, not willing to go to bed before Harry returned from another session with the werewolf. He had just finished a chapter on what to expect if your incubus was expecting when the young man in question strode in and immediately started stripping off his clothes. He looked up from his book to appreciate the show and absently popped another strawberry in his mouth.

When Harry finally did sling himself into a chair Voldemort said casually, “I’ve brought you another present, my sweet.”

Harry’s feet hit the floor a second later as he swiveled around and sat up properly, his eyes shining with excitement. “Really?”

“Really. I could try to claim it’s because you’ve been feeding me so well lately, but that’s not the reason. I had rather a bit of good luck—I think yours has been rubbing off on me—and stumbled over Dolores Umbridge. Naturally, knowing how very much you’d like to talk to her, I extended her an invitation she simply couldn’t refuse.”

Harry bounced to his feet and glided over, settling himself on Voldemort’s lap and leaning in to give him a very appreciative kiss; the book tumbled to the floor as Voldemort brought his hands up to tangle in his mate’s hair. It wasn’t until several minutes later that they broke apart, at which point Harry said, “I think Moony will be ready soon for a bit of fracturing.”

Voldemort smiled and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Will you be wanting my help with that?”

“Yes, I think so. To double-check my work if nothing else. The best part is that werewolves have such good natural mental defenses, which means he’d have to struggle really, really hard to undo things. His own nature will work against him.”

“I’ll remember to stock up on more of those potions, Harry. Do you have any ideas for our new guest?”

Harry’s grin was wicked. “Why, yes, as a matter of fact I do, but I won’t decide for sure until after I have a poke around in her head. Anyway, that’s enough catching up for one evening. What say I go fling myself on the bed and let you have your wicked way with me?”

Voldemort was more than happy to acquiesce.

Associated Snapshot: The Pill Not Taken