Chapter Text
PART ONE: Alteration
Mulciber waited patiently for the fifth-year Ravenclaw to finish droning on about her anxiety about the upcoming O.W.L.S. It had been a long school year listening to these children's problems and pretending to give a fuck, but it would be worth it in the end.
It was already the beginning of May, and he'd yet to see Potter, but he wasn't giving up hope. It was widely known that the boy had such strong willpower that even the imperious charm couldn't penetrate his mind. Of course, it would take time for Mulciber to cause enough stress to bring him willingly to his door.
He'd been using the Dark Arts to send Harry horrible nightmares, and although it would have taken a lot less time if he was anyone else, he could see the boy finally beginning to suffer. His eyes were heavy and surrounded by the deep purple shadows of someone who'd been without sleep for far too long.
It would only be a matter of time before Harry decided to take advantage of the Mind Healer brought in to help the students process the trauma of the war. It was smart of Minerva, really–the thought was there–unfortunately, she didn't learn anything from Barty's impersonation of Mad-Eye.
It was so easy for him to slip into Healer Williams's identity. One quick curse and he was dead, and Mulciber had enough Polyjuice to last him until the end of next year. You can never be too safe.
He'd suggested, of course, meeting with Harry and his friends under the guise of helping with their PTSD from the war, but they didn't come, so now he was forced to bombard Harry with horrible dreams. He sent him pictures of his friends dying and made sure to highlight his shame over not being able to save them. That shame would come in handy later.
It would be difficult to manipulate Harry's mind, but it wasn't impossible. Even the strongest of wizards can be susceptible to mind magic–you just need to find their weakness.
***
Harry reluctantly found his way to the new Healer's office. He'd been avoiding coming here for weeks, but in the end, Hermione convinced him he couldn't go on this way. He'd thought his nightmares would stop after Voldemort died, and they had–for a bit anyway. Now they were back and worse than ever. He'd reached a point where he couldn't even bear to lie down and close his eyes.
After a few minutes of standing outside the door, he finally brought his hand up to knock.
"Come in," The smooth voice of Healer Williams called out. He and Harry had talked briefly a couple of times before, and he seemed like a nice enough man.
Once he entered the room, Healer Williams gestured for him to take a seat. "Let's get down to business, Mister Potter. Usually, I would have an introductory session, but I think that won't be necessary with you.
"No sir, I suppose not."
"So let's just dive into what's been bothering you, Harry. May I call you Harry?" Healer Williams said his name with such warmth that it was almost jarring.
"Yeah, that's fine. Um, I guess I'm here because I've been having nightmares."
"Alright. I'd say, based on what I know about your history, that would be expected. Have you been taking dreamless sleep?"
"I have, but it's not working as good lately. Madam Pomfrey thinks I may have built up a tolerance."
"Ah yes, that does tend to happen. Can you tell me a bit about the dreams?"
"Well...they are different every time."
"Right. And have you noticed something that the dreams tend to have in common? Is there a theme?"
Harry debated how much he would say but decided to be as honest as he could. "I dream about the war mostly. About the people who died and about my friends dying."
"That sounds horrible. How do you feel in the dreams?"
Harry looked up, surprised that Healer Williams would ask something so obvious. "I feel bad, sir."
"Of course you do." Healer Williams's eyes softened. "In what way do you feel bad? Are you scared? Sad?"
"I'm sad. And I feel guilty."
"Because you couldn't save everyone?"
"Yes. And because they died for me."
"Alright. Those feelings, although perfectly valid, may be a bit misplaced."
"What do you mean?"
"Nobody died for or because of you."
"My parents died for me. My mother could have lived if it wasn't for me."
Healer Williams didn't understand.
"No. Your mother died because Lord Voldemort killed her. Everyone died because Lord Voldemort wished it to be so. When darkness rises, there will always be those who seek to stop it. If it weren't you, it would have been someone else."
"I could have made better choices."
"How do you figure?"
"I was reckless."
Healer William smiled sadly. "You were a child."
"Sirius died because of me."
"Sirius was reckless."
"You know him?"
"I know him well. We grew up together."
"You knew my parents?"
"Yes. We can discuss them later if you'd like, but I'd like to focus on helping you get a good night's sleep right now." Healer Williams leaned back and crossed his ankle neatly on his left thigh. "I have a few techniques that might help, but I think the most effective for this case might be hypnotherapy."
"You want to hypnotize me?"
"With your consent, yes. I think it would be beneficial for you."
"What would that be like?"
"I would get you to relax, and I would try to connect with your subconscious."
"How would that help?" Harry asked uncertainly.
"Nightmares are your subconscious mind's attempt to process trauma. If I could communicate with your subconscious, I could help speed up the process."
"I don't know..."
We could try a session and see how it goes...if it's too much, we don't have to continue. Sound reasonable?"
"Yeah...I guess we can try."
"Excellent. Why don't you lean back and remove your glasses. Perfect, just set them aside." Healer Williams pulled out a pocket watch. "Now, I'd like you to focus on this as I move it back and forth. Can you do that for me?"
Harry nodded. He was so exhausted that his body was already starting to feel calmer. He was fighting the urge to close his eyes.
"Very good, Harry. Don't close your eyes just yet, but let them get heavier. I want you to focus on my watch and my voice. You are safe with me, and you can trust me to look after you. Don't be afraid to let yourself slip under further."
Harry found it harder to focus on what Healer Williams was saying the longer he droned on.
"I want you to let go of all your conscious thoughts and only pay attention to my voice. I'm going to count down from ten, and after every number, I want you to slip further under."
Harry's entire body was tingling, but he tried not to think about that.
"10...9...8.."
The voice sounded so nice.
"7...6...5..."
Everything was so warm. Where was he again?
"4...3...2... When I reach the last number, I want you to be completely under. You will listen only to the sound of my voice, and you will think only about what I ask you to."
Harry was waiting, but he didn't remember what for. The only thing that mattered was the warm, smooth voice.
"1."
***
Mulciber grinned at how susceptible the boy was. It was only their first session, and Harry was so relaxed he was drooling.
"You did such a great job."
Harry just stared up at him, dopily awaiting his next command. He couldn't mess with the boy's mind in any major way this soon. What he needed to do was find an old wound and use that to manipulate Harry's current feelings. The easiest way to influence someone with a strong mind is to revisit a time when their core beliefs were formed—when they were at their weakest.
"You told me that you were having nightmares lately. Is that correct?"
The boy opened his mouth to answer but didn't appear to be able to get anything out. Finally, after a couple of attempts, he was able to say a simple yes.
"Very good. I think you'll find that the more we talk, the easier it'll be for you to express yourself. You're just very relaxed right now. Now, you said the dreams made you feel guilty. Is that also correct?"
"Yes."
"And since the root of guilt is shame...is it safe to assume that the dreams also make you feel ashamed?"
"I…guess."
"A simple yes or no will be good."
"Yes."
"Alright. You're doing so good, Harry. I'm going to ask an important question now, and I'd like you to give it some thought before answering. Okay?"
"Yes."
"Can you think back to a time when you were younger, perhaps still a child, and remember a moment when you were ashamed?"
Harry's eyebrows crinkled in confusion, and he looked like he was thinking hard. After a few minutes, Mulciber prompted again. "Was there a moment in your childhood where you felt ashamed? Or someone that made you feel that way?"
Phrasing the question in a new way seemed to help. "My uncle," Harry answered.
"Your uncle made you feel ashamed?"
"Yes."
"And how did he do that?"
"He would…hit me and call me names. He told me I was stupid and useless."
Triumph washed over him. This was exactly what he needed. "Alright, that's perfect, Harry. I want you to focus on that feeling, and let it grow bigger and bigger."
Harry's face flinched, and he looked very uncomfortable.
"When your uncle would be mean to you, what did you wish for in that moment?"
"That he would stop." Harry's voice was flat when he spoke.
"Of course. And you also wished for his approval, didn't you?"
"I don't think so."
"I think you did. I want you to let the shame get bigger. Allow it to double in size. How does that feel?"
"It feels bad," Harry answered.
"Right. Do you want me to tell you how to make the shame feel better?"
"Yes. Please."
"The shame would feel better if you could please your uncle. He made you feel useless and unworthy, and his approval would make you feel better. It may sound hard to accept, but it makes perfect sense. Not having your uncle's acceptance took away your self-worth, and having it would help ease your shame. Does that sound correct?"
"It does."
"Very good. I know that's a hard thing to accept, but I have good news. Would you like to hear it?"
"Yes," Harry said.
"You can get that approval from any older man. It doesn't have to be your uncle."
"It doesn't?"
"No. That shame inside you will grow and grow, but approval and praise from any older man will fill that void your uncle left. Isn't that good?"
"Yes."
"You're doing wonderful, Harry." The boy's mouth turned up slightly at the corners, and Mulciber realized this wouldn't take nearly as long as he anticipated. "Did that make you feel good when I praised you?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. That means this is working. I'm going to wake you up shortly, and when I do, you won't remember any of this conversation, but it will remain in your subconscious."
"Okay,"
"I want you to feel the shame a lot stronger than normal."
"Okay."
"And your nightmares will still continue, but I want them also to feature your uncle this time."
"Okay."
"Excellent. Wake up, Harry."
***
Harry opened his eyes, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. "What happened?"
"Your first session was a success. It's normal not to remember as you were in a pretty deep trance.
"I was?"
"Yes. You did remarkable."
Harry's face warmed at Healer Williams's kind words.
"Now, I have to warn you that the first couple of days might be difficult. It's common for unfamiliar or uncomfortable feelings to surface after a session like this."
There was a heaviness in his chest. It was similar to the shame he felt when he was unable to save someone in his dreams, but now it felt somehow magnified.
"You're nightmares might also get worse in the beginning while your psyche is working through things. It's an unavoidable consequence, but I know you'll be able to handle it."
Healer Williams's confidence in him made his heart speed up, and for a brief moment, it felt true.
"Harry, I'll see you back in one week for another session. Sound good?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
Harry left, hoping he made a good impression on the man.
Chapter Text
Harry returned as expected the following week, and Mulciber had spent their time apart drafting up the best course of action to get Harry where he needed him to be by the end of the school year. He had six weeks to twist Harry enough to do his bidding–starting with getting Lucius out of prison. Being a Death Eater in hiding meant no access to any of their vaults, but if they had Lucius back, not only would they have endless funds but also the safety and protection of The Manor.
"Harry, it's so good to see you again. How about you begin by telling me about your dreams this past week? Have they improved any?"
Harry looked around nervously. "Um, I think they've gotten worse."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Why don't you tell me about them?"
"They start the same...with people I love dying and me being unable to stop it. Most of the time, I'm frozen...or my wand doesn't work. But afterwards, my uncle shows up and tells me it's all my fault."
"Hmm. Has your uncle shown up in your dreams before?"
"He used to when I was younger, but he hasn't in years."
"I see. And what was your relationship with your uncle like?"
"Bad. He was awful to me."
"Would you say he was abusive?"
Harry looked down, and it was clear he was very uncomfortable talking about it.
"I know it's a tough topic, but it would be really good for you to talk about this. It would please me greatly if you made an effort to tell me about it." Mulciber made a bit of a gamble by wording it like that. He didn't want to raise any red flags in Harry's mind so soon, but Harry's face softened, and his subconscious clearly jumped at the opportunity to make Healer Williams happy.
"Ya, he was abusive...he used to hit me and scream at me. He made me sleep in a cupboard for most of my life."
Mulciber did his best to smooth his face into something resembling sympathy. "Oh dear, that must have been horrible for you."
"It was."
"Thank you for being honest with me. It makes me feel good that you feel safe enough with me to open up like that."
A small smile appeared on Harry's face.
"Okay, let's start another session," He said, pulling out the pocket watch. It would become easier and easier to put Harry under as time went on. "I want you to focus on the watch...that's right...watch it go back and forth. I want you to feel more relaxed with every motion of the watch. I'm going to count backwards from one again, and I want you to go deeper and deeper with every number."
This time, he only had to get to eight before Harry was drooling again. By ten, he was utterly entranced.
"Very good. Are you feeling relaxed?"
"Yes," Harry responded serenely.
"Okay. I'd like to return to discussing your uncle. Why do you think he abused you?"
"Because he's a bad person."
"Hmm. Maybe, but that's only part of the truth. I think the important question is what drove him to be a bad person. Do you agree?"
"I guess."
Mulciber beamed. "Excellent. I love it when you see things my way. Do you know why your uncle acted the way he did?"
"No."
"Fear. Fear is the root of most evil. Do you know why your uncle was afraid?"
"He didn't like magic. He thought I was a freak. He was afraid of me."
"Great. I think you're right. Fear can turn people into their worst selves. Can you look back on your life and think of times bad people may have acted poorly out of fear?"
It was a more complicated question, and it took Harry longer to find the thoughts Mulciber was asking him to. "Malfoy," He said finally. "He let people into the school, and he tried to kill Professor Dumbledore."
"What do you think young Mister Malfoy was afraid of?"
After a pause, Harry said, "Being punished by Voldemort. Losing his family."
"Correct. And do you blame him?"
"No."
"That's a great example of how morality can be subjective. People are driven by fear to feel like they are doing the right thing in the moment. Mister Malfoy and your uncle were both scared and acting out to protect their families. Can you understand that?"
"Yes."
"Even the most vile evils can be explained by fear. Do you know what Voldemort was most afraid of?"
"Death?"
"Right. You're getting this. I'm so proud of you." Mulciber said, pleased. Harry's brain was beginning to think more quickly in his numbed-out state. "What did Voldemort do to protect himself from death?"
"I don't think I'm allowed to say."
"You're safe to say anything to me here, Harry. Nothing will ever leave this room."
"He made horcruxes."
"And do you think Voldemort was the same after slicing his soul apart?"
"No."
"Right. Of course, he wasn't. Voldemort didn't cut up his soul to become evil. In fact, in the beginning, I don't think he wanted to become what he was. He was a charismatic and driven boy who was driven by fear to mutilate the essence of who he was. And later, he and the rest of his followers were driven by fear of what muggles would do to the wizarding world if they discovered it. That is how they justified the slaughter of muggles. By fear. Are you following what I'm saying?"
Harry's eyes fluttered as he processed everything he'd just been told. "Yes."
"Voldemort lived through a muggle war. He'd heard of the witch trials of ancient days. Is it reasonable that he would be driven by fear to prevent history from repeating itself?"
"I guess so."
"And what do you think drove the muggles to war and the burning of witches?"
"Fear."
"Very good, Harry. So you understand that there is no true evil, only people doing what they believe is best at the time?
"Yes."
“And you see how the muggles acted just as harshly as the Voldemort's followers appeared to?”
“I guess.”
"I know this must be so difficult for you to accept. You're such a brave boy, and that's a big part of why you are so good. The less fear you have, the more clarity."
Harry's face reddened at the blatant praise.
"That's why Gryffindor's are known for being so righteous. That being said, would you say that it's wrong to be afraid? To be scared of harm befalling the people you love?"
"Of course not," Harry answered, slowly shaking his head.
"And so would you say morality is complicated and thus hard to judge? That perhaps the muggles and Voldemort's followers were equally as guilty and equally as innocent?"
"Yes."
"Can you think of someone you thought was a bad person but later on changed your mind?"
Harry paused, taking his time before he answered. "Professor Snape."
"Can you tell me why you thought Professor Snape was a bad person?"
"He was cruel to me when I first met him, and later on, I found out he was a Death Eater."
"But you changed your mind?" Mulciber prompted.
"Yes."
"Can you tell me why?"
"Because I found out later he was trying to help the good side.”
“Of course. And now, after everything we’ve discussed, can you accept that the “right side” might be subjective?”
Harry wrinkled his nose. “I guess?”
“Excellent.” Mulciber was satisfied with the doubts he’d embedded for now. “This was a great session today. Just as last time, I want you to forget everything we discussed, but I would like it to remain in your subconscious. I want you to continue to feel shame, and I would like you to feel it, especially when you think of someone as being wrong or evil. I want you to put yourself in their shoes and figure out what might have led them to act in such a way.”
“Okay.”
“You’re nightmares will continue, but instead of your friends dying, I want you to to imagine the muggles torturing and murdering your friends, and I want you to imagine wizards harming your family.” That would really help enforce the seeds Mulciber planted today.
“Okay.”
“Perfect. Wake up, Harry.”
Chapter Text
The week after Harry’s last therapy session went a lot smoother. Just like Healer Williams has said, he was feeling some heavier feelings, but he also realized he was getting some relief at the same time.
Before, his days were usually plagued by feelings of anger and hatred. He wasn’t the type to wallow in self-pity, but he couldn't help resenting how he'd spent his life. Losing his parents, being mistreated by his remaining family, and watching so many people he loved die in the war–it was hard not to be consumed by rage every day.
Lately, though, he’d felt a bit better about things. More at peace with it. He wasn’t sure how, but whatever Healer Williams was doing must have been working. Even his dreams had slightly improved. They were still violent, but it didn't incite the same hostility in Harry that it did before. He even found himself feeling bad for The Dursleys.
“Good Morning, Harry. How has your week been?” Healer Williams said warmly, ushering Harry into his office.
“Fine,” Harry answered.
“Have you been sleeping better?”
“A bit.”
“Good. Would you say the nature of your dreams has improved?”
“Not really. Maybe a little?” Harry couldn’t help but feel a pit in his stomach at disappointing Healer Williams. He didn’t want him to think that Harry wasn’t getting better.
“Alright. Well, 'a little’ is something, at least. Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright. Sit back.”
***
Harry went down even faster this time. Mulciber knew precisely where he needed this session to go.
“Hello, Harry. Do you remember everything we talked about in our last couple of visits?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Have you noticed any changes?”
“I’ve been less angry,” Harry answered, his gaze weightless.
“That’s very good. How about your shame?”
“It’s been the same.”
“Okay, why don’t we focus on that today? I want you to relax some more and think of a time in your youth when you felt ashamed.”
“Okay.”
Mulciber patiently waited for Harry's sluggish brain to come up with an example. “Have you thought of something?”
“Yes.”
“Good. And can you tell me about it?”
“I’m eleven years old, and I’ve just burnt breakfast," Harry said. His eyes were closed, and his head tipped back as if he was reliving the memory. "Uncle Vernon is so angry that he’s grabbed me by my arm, and he’s hitting me across my back.”
“Alright. And do you know why you felt so ashamed in that moment?”
“Because I was proving to him that all the horrible things he said about me were right.”
“Okay. And is it safe to say you also felt ashamed because you wanted your uncle's approval?”
“Yes.”
“I see. That’s perfectly normal. I think anyone in your position would crave validation from your uncle or any older man. Would you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what else is normal for someone in your shoes?" Mulciber continued. "It’s common for people who feel a great deal of shame to crave punishment. Do you think you crave to be punished, Harry?”
“I don’t think so?”
“I think a reason you feel so ashamed is because, deep down, you liked it when your uncle hit you.”
Harry frowned, and the confusion on his face was delectable. “I did?”
“Yes. I think that’s also the reason why you went to the forest the day you killed Voldemort. You felt like you deserved to die. Do you agree?”
“Maybe.”
In order for Mulciber to truly infiltrate Harry's mind, he needed to release Harry from the burden of shame. He needed Harry to be free from his demons and so relieved that his subconscious wouldn't even try to fight Mulciber's future conditioning.
“Sometimes people who have that attitude get caught in shame cycles. They feel so much shame that pain is the only way to make it feel better. And then they feel shame for enjoying the pain. Eventually, if this continues, they may even associate the shame with feeling good. Do you think that makes sense?”
“Yes.”
“Now, Harry,” Mulciber said, “I want you to think about times when your uncle has hit you from that perspective. I want you to imagine the relief each hit brings you. Are you doing that?”
“Yes.”
“How does it feel when your uncle hits you?”
“It feels good. I like it.”
“Very good, Harry. That must be a hard thing to realize about yourself.”
“Yes.” There was a grim twist to Harry's mouth despite the vacant look in his eyes.
“What does realizing that feel like?”
“Like maybe he’s right. Maybe I am a freak.”
“And what do you need now?”
“For Uncle Vernon to punish me. For him to accept me.”
“So would you agree that seeking approval from him and being punished by him are the two main things that help your guilt feel better?”
“Yes.”
“And would you agree that since it’s too late to get his approval and you’re much too old for him to punish you...that you would feel that same way about any older man?”
“I think so…yes.”
Mulciber smiled. “That makes sense. I think it’s so common for someone like yourself to transfer those feelings onto any man who shows you attention. Can you think of three older men from your past whose approval you craved?”
“Professor Dumbledore...Professor Lupin and...my godfather.”
“Excellent. And out of those three men, who do you feel the most shame about when you think about them?”
“My godfather, Sirius Black.”
“Perfect. Why do you think you feel shame when you think about him?”
“I blame myself for his death.”
“Alright. Is it also safe to say he is an uncle figure in your life? He was one of your father's closest friends.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you might also feel shame because you wanted him to hurt you?”
Harry's face flushed. “I...don't...know.”
“We’ve talked about how it’s normal for someone like you to want to be punished by older men in your life. Do you remember?”
“Yes.”
“So, is it safe to say you would have enjoyed it if your uncle caused you pain?”
“I guess so.”
“And I’m sure it would be confusing that pain feels so good to you. Do you remember how good it feels when your uncle hurts you?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think it would also feel nice if your godfather were to hit you?" Mulciber asked patiently. "To be spanked across your ass like most naughty children are?”
“Yes.”
“I bet those feelings are hard to come to terms with.”
“Yes.”
“That’s okay, Harry. I’m here to help you make sense of them. Do you remember your godfather's tattoos?”
“Yes.”
“How did you feel about them?”
“I liked them.”
“I bet you liked them a lot. You must have held your godfather in such high regard. I bet anybody with tattoos would make you feel an equal level of respect.”
“I don’t know."
“No worries," Mulciber said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's something to consider anyway. You might not even realize that you desperately crave punishment and approval from someone with tattoos. Just like you do your godfather.”
“Okay.”
“We are almost done here. I want you to continue to feel shame, but I also want it to start to feel good. I want you to lean into it. I also would like your dreams to remain violent, but I want the subjects of your dreams to enjoy the violence. I want you to understand how it feels to experience pain and derive pleasure from it. I also want you to dream about your uncle and your godfather hurting you.”
“Okay.”
“And, like always, you will remember nothing of this session. Wake up now, Harry.”
Chapter Text
Harry's dreams took an interesting—borderline perverted—turn recently. At first, he'd brushed it off as a fluke, but as the days passed, he was afraid that maybe Healer Williams had un-earthed some feelings Harry wished would remain hidden.
The violence that once disgusted him now made him feel something else entirely. He'd dreamed lately of the war, but when the familiar curses hit their targets, instead of crying out in pain, they would collapse to the ground in ecstasy. It was better, of course, than the screams of agony he was used to, but something about his reaction to it made him feel guilty.
It was almost like he enjoyed their suffering.
Harry knew for certain that he didn't want anyone to be tortured, but when he saw his friend's blissful reactions to pain, he understood. He was happy for them, and it was sick. Even sicker was how it felt when he was hurt in his dreams. In one specific dream, Sirius had thrown him over his lap and spanked him. Every single hit filled Harry with relief, and when he'd woken up, he was horrified to find himself hard in his pants.
"Hello, Mister Potter."
"Good morning, Healer Williams."
"How are you feeling this week? Any improvements?"
"Sort of. The dreams have gotten a bit better. Less violent." He wasn't able to tell Healer Williams any more details than that. It would be too humiliating.
"Good. You're looking like you've gotten more sleep. Are there any other effects from last week's session that you wish to discuss?"
"Not really." Harry thought briefly about bringing up his newfound masochism in case there was something Healer Williams might have done to cause it unintentionally, but he couldn't stand the thought of the man losing respect for him.
"Alright, that's great. Let's begin."
***
All Mulciber had to do was say "go under" this time, and Harry's eyes glazed over, and he collapsed in the chair like a puppet whose strings had just been cut.
"Are you relaxed, Harry?"
"Yes." Harry's voice was flat and emotionless.
"I'm going to ask you again, Are there any effects from last week's session that you might want to talk about?"
"Yes. My dreams."
"What about them?"
"People are getting hurt."
"Alright. You've mentioned before that it's common for you to have dreams like that. Is there something different about these ones?"
Harry looked like he was battling with himself. "People...like it when they get hurt."
"That's very interesting. How do you feel when you see others get hurt in your dreams?"
"I feel good. I like watching them get hurt, and I like when I get hurt."
"And how were you hurt in your dream?"
"My uncle hit me, and my godfather put me over his knee and spanked me."
"Hmmm. And how did that make you feel?"
"Really good."
Mulciber's pulse sped up. "Why did it make you feel good?"
"I deserved to be hurt for allowing myself to be tricked by Voldemort. For causing Sirius to fall into the veil."
Harry was talking more often in his trance state now, and it made his mind easier to manipulate. "Did Sirius hurting you in your dream give you relief from those feelings?"
"Yes."
"And how did you feel when you woke up?"
"Good until I realized that I got...excited by it."
"What do you mean when you say you 'got excited'?"
Harry's face flushed a little, and he didn't continue.
"It's okay...you can tell me anything. I'll never think less of you."
"You won't?"
"Of course not, Harry. You're safe with me. What happened when you got excited?"
"I got hard."
"You mean your godfather spanking you triggered an erection?" Mulciber asked, excited by Harry's progress.
"Yes."
"And that made you feel ashamed?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember last week when we talked about your need to receive pain and acceptance from your uncle and from older men?"
"Yes."
"And do you remember how we talked about it being normal for someone who's been through what you have to feel that way?"
"Yes."
"Good. It's okay to feel that way, Harry." Mulciber said. "Those things give you relief from your shame, and relief feels good."
"Okay."
"Wires sometimes get crossed in situations like that, and your body might be equating the good feelings to sexual pleasure. Do you agree that you felt sexually aroused when your godfather hurt you?"
"Yes."
"Do you think you would feel sexually aroused around any older man who caused you pain? Especially an older man with tattoos like your godfather?"
"I think so."
"And do you think you'd feel sexually aroused by any older man who showed you acceptance and praise?"
"I'm not sure..." Harry answered hesitantly.
"Think about how it would feel if your godfather complimented you. Would that feel nice?"
"Yes."
"Would it also feel good to be complimented by any older man?"
"Yes. I think so."
"Excellent. You're doing amazing. Do you remember when I talked about the shame and pleasure feedback loop?"
Harry's eyes half closed in rapture at the praise. "I think so."
"We talked about how sometimes when you're feeling a lot of shame, and you get sexually aroused during it...you can begin to equate shame with sexual arousal. In the future, every time you experience pain or humiliation in your dream, I want you to experience twice the pleasure. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Pain and humiliation will become your greatest escape from the guilt and shame you feel. Does that sound good?"
"Yes."
"Would you rather feel pleasure over pain?"
"Yes."
"And what gives you pleasure?" Mulciber prompted.
"Acceptance and pain from older men."
"Very good, Harry. I'm so proud of how well you're doing. What kind of older men do you most seek approval from?"
"Men like my uncle and my godfather. I also like men with tattoos."
"Excellent. And what men do you think are similar to your uncle?"
Harry's eyebrows knit together in uncertainty. Poor boy, it was hard to think when your head was so empty.
Mulciber tried again. "Do you think your uncle was a good man?"
"No."
"So, do you think you crave the attention of bad men?"
"I don't think so?"
"Remember when we talked about the differences between good and evil?"
"Yes."
"We learnt that morality was subjective. We learned that just because someone hurts another person, it doesn't make them evil.
"Right."
"And you like being hurt...don't you, Harry?"
"Yes," Harry said, more enthusiastically than usual.
"So maybe you crave the attention of people like your uncle? Men who want to hurt you?"
"Yes."
"And maybe that means you crave the attention of any mean men with tattoos who want to hurt you?"
"I guess so."
"Alright, Harry," Mulciber said, deciding they'd covered enough for today. "Thank you so much for being honest with me. This week, I want you to continue feeling shame, but I want you to crave it. I want you to get pleasure from it."
"Okay."
"I want you to keep having dreams, but instead of the Death Eaters hurting your friends, I want them to hurt you. I want you to feel so good when they hurt you that you become unbearably aroused and are unable to find relief until you bring yourself to orgasm. And, as always, you will remember nothing of this session, but your subconscious will retain and believe everything I've said so far. Does this sound good?"
"Yes."
"Good boy. Wake up, Harry."
Chapter 5
Notes:
And so begins the smut.
Chapter Text
Something was incredibly wrong. Harry had spent the entire week being tortured in his sleep, and he woke up every morning to a mess in his pants. He hadn't had wet dreams since puberty.
He knew he should be horrified, but it was like the worse he felt, the better he felt inside. It was a tug of war in his mind on whether he should tell Healer Williams. The thought of the man thinking he was disgusting somehow gave him butterflies, but the idea of being fixed was dreadful. He knew this was wrong, but he didn't want to go back to the old nightmares–the old feelings. Thinking about how sick he was to enjoy this somehow only added fuel to the fire.
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, Harry. How are you feeling this week?"
"Good sir."
"Wow, that's great to hear. Are your nightmares improving?"
"Yes, definitely."
Healer Williams smiled. "I'm so happy to hear that. Can you tell me in what way they've improved? Are they still violent?"
"Yes, but it's okay."
"It's okay that they are violent?"
"Yes, I enjoy it."
"Wow, that's incredible. Thank you for feeling safe enough in my company to let me know something like that."
Harry's mouth felt dry at the praise. He realized he hadn't shared much with Healer Williams about how he'd been feeling lately.
"I like it when you tell me how you feel, Harry. You know I'd never judge you or think you're a bad person."
"Because morality is subjective?"
Healer William's eyes lit up at his answer. "Yes! You are so smart. Do you have any idea why you're okay with your dreams being violent lately?"
Harry shrugged. "It just feels good."
"When people hurt you?"
"Yes."
"Who hurt you in your dreams this week?"
"Voldemort's followers mostly."
"That's very interesting, Harry. Go under."
***
Mulciber was delighted with the progress this week. It wouldn't be long before everything turned out exactly as he planned. Soon, the boy would return with him to Malfoy Manor, and with Harry Potter on their side, no one could stop them this time.
"Hello, Harry. You said to me that in your dreams this week, you enjoyed being tortured by Death Eaters?"
"Yes."
"Now, in these dreams, were you sexually aroused?"
"Yes."
"So you were sexually aroused by a group of Death Eaters? Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Wow. That's very interesting. What would your friends think if you told them that?"
Harry shuddered. "They would be disgusted."
"And how does that make you feel?"
"Really, good."
"Naughty boy. You like your friends being disgusted by you?"
"Yes."
"But you could never tell them. You couldn't tell anyone because they might try to fix you, and you don't want to be fixed. Do you, Harry?"
"No."
"Do you think Death Eaters are evil?"
"I think they are bad. They hurt people."
"But you like that, don't you, Harry?"
"I like when they hurt me."
"And you know that they aren't trying to be evil, right? They are trying to protect wizards from muggles. You don't think muggles are evil, do you?"
Harry's brows pinched together. "No."
"Right, and even though they hurt people... they are just trying to protect themselves from wizards."
"Yes."
"So you agree muggles are just as bad as Death Eaters?"
"Death Eaters...they like hurting people."
"And you like being hurt. What a perfect match. Do you think it's wrong that you feel this way?"
"Yes, but it feels so good."
"It makes you feel good that you crave being fucked by a Death Eater?"
"Yes."
"What would you do if one of Voldemort's followers were here right now?"
"I don't know."
"Would you lie down and let them have their way with you?"
Harry whimpered. "Maybe."
"Why don't we find out?" If he failed to drink from his flask in a few minutes, his Polyjuice potion would run out. Harry's corruption seemed to be so complete that it was time to take things a step further. "When your uncle locked you in the closet, did he ever deny you food and water?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember how it feels to be starving? The emptiness?"
"Yes."
"I want you to lean into those feelings. I want you to remember how it feels to be desperate for just a sip of water and how you would do anything to get it."
Harry was shaking slowly back and forth now in clear discomfort.
"Are you thirsty, Harry?"
"So thirsty...it hurts."
"I know. Poor boy. I want you to sit with that feeling for the next few minutes, let it grow and triple in size, and I want you to imagine that the only thing that could possibly quench your thirst is Death Eater cum. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes."
"I know it's hard. It will not be much longer. Just imagine how good it will feel. How much your survival depends on getting that cum."
Harry shut his eyes, probably so he could easier imagine how euphoric it would feel to be surrounded by Death Eater cocks. His eyes were flickering behind his eyelids, and he looked like he was quite enjoying the pain and desperation.
“Harry, still keeping your focus on the task, I want you to wake up. Not enough that I don’t still have control over your subconscious, but enough that you have free will and are able to remember what happens in this room next.”
Finally, his features began to shift. Healer Williams's softness faded away until Mulciber's gaunt body appeared in its wake. He, too, knew what it was like to be hungry, but after the boy released Lucius from prison, they would all eat well.
It took Harry longer than anticipated to notice the change, but his eyes grew feverish when he did. "Y-you!"
"Do you recognize me?"
"You're…Mulciber."
"I'm flattered that you know who I am. Been dreaming about me, have you?"
Harry flushed. He seemed to be trying his hardest to find words but was probably finding it difficult, as cum hungry as he was.
"I heard you were in desperate need of a Death Eaters cock."
"How?"
"Don't worry about that. You must be so thirsty. Why don't you let me help you?"
Harry's pupils expanded, and he licked his lips.
"You don't need to say anything. Why don't you crawl to me, Harry?"
To his utter delight, Harry slowly lowered himself to the floor.
"Good boy. Crawl to your Master." Harry slowly came towards him until he was in a useless heap at his feet. Pulling up his sleeve, Mulciber exposed his Dark Mark to Harry. "Lick it."
"I can't," Harry whined, voice choked with emotion.
"Don't make me hurt you. You're a pathetic freak who gets off being abused by the people who killed his friends. Isn't that disgusting?"
Harry was trembling with need, and at the same time, tears started flowing down his cheeks.
Mulciber roughly gripped his face and pulled his head up at an angle that forced eye contact. "I asked you a question."
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
" I-I don't know."
"You're such an imbecile. I just told you what I am to you."
"Master?"
"Yes. Don't make me ask again."
"Yes, I'm disgusting, Master."
"Very good, Harry. There is hope for you yet. Now, why don't you do what I've asked and lick my tattoo like the eager mutt you are."
The thirst must be getting unmanageable because he didn't argue again. The wet slide of Harry's tongue against his mark was euphoric, and Mulciber watched as he lapped at it like the dog he'd just told him he was. It was depraved.
"Are you ready for your treat now bitch?"
Harry enthusiastically nodded, and Mulciber wondered how far the boy would go in his desperation. "Bark."
"What?"
"Imagine how good it would feel, Harry, to lower yourself in front of a Death Eater like that. It's the most abhorrent thing you could do."
Harry stared up at him, the confusion all over his face.
"So bark, bitch."
Harry's body visibly tremored, but he opened his mouth. “Arf- ruuf- ruff- ruff-uuuuuuuuuur-"
Mulciber was shocked at how realistic Harry's bark was—how easily he fell into his role as a mindless dog. It was amazing to be able to witness the fall of the Golden Boy and his descent into pure perversion. Harry's mind was melted into soft putty, and he was free now to shape it any way he wanted.
"Good boy." Mulciber pulled his cock out of his jeans. It was big and veiny, nothing like what Harry was probably used to seeing. A man's cock. "Open up."
Harry did, his tongue hanging out eagerly. He took him into his throat with the ability of a novice. Mulciber didn't mind. Soon, he would be free to train Harry to his liking. He would enjoy his innocence while he still had it.
He’d thought he might need a few more sessions to bring Harry low like this without being fully under the hypnosis, but it turned out that making him aroused by shame was the final touch the little hero needed to be crawling around on all fours.
Slamming into Harry’s mouth, he watched as the boy became so turned on that his eyes glazed over. He was drooling as Mulciber fed his length into his throat roughly, causing Harry’s gag reflex to trigger and more saliva to come dripping out of his lips. Mulciber couldn't help but reach a hand down and graze his fingers reverently over Harry's cheeks. He leaned into Mulciber's touch.
Moving his cock in and out of Harry's mouth, he enjoyed the panicked gasps the boy let out as he fucked into his throat. Bringing his hand away from where he was lightly caressing Harry's face, he brought it to the back of Harry's head and tightly gripped his hair, roughly pushing him down until his nose grazed the base of his shaft.
Harry frantically tried to pull back, but Mulciber held firm. "Relax your throat, bitch."
Harry's body immediately deflated.
"That's it," Mulciber murmured. "Suck my dick, such a good boy, my own fucking little doggy slut. Imagine if your little friends could see you now."
He started fucking the boy's throat hard, his face wet with tears and drool. Harry's cock was hard in his pants, and he lightly bucked into the air as Mulciber used him. He truly looked like a bitch in heat, and that gave Mulciber an idea.
Right before he felt himself about to come, he pulled out of Harry’s mouth and finished himself on the stone floor of his office. Without hesitation, Harry, still on all fours, bent down and began lapping it up. It was obscene. He was moaning as he licked up Mulcibers cum which no doubt felt like finally having something to drink after being stuck for days in the hot desert.
Harry licked the dirty floor until every last drop was gone–until he was left licking his own spit off the stone. The wet smacking noises he made were music to Mulciber's ears.
“Good bitch,” Mulciber said, snapping his fingers to bring Harry’s attention to him. “I bet that felt really good. Are you ready to come, puppy?”
“Please, Master.”
Excellent. The boy was a fast learner. “I will let you get yourself off by humping my leg like the mutt you are. The only condition is that you must bark the entire time like you did earlier. If you stop before you bring yourself to orgasm, I will not let you finish. Now, what do you say?”
“Thank you, Master.”
“You’re welcome bitch.” Mulciber stuck his leg out towards Harry. “You may begin.”
Harry immediately placed himself so that his ass was sitting on Mulciber's shoe, and his hard dick was rubbing against his shin. It was pretty big. In the future, Mulciber might be generous and shrink it for him so that it will feel better when he gets himself off by rubbing himself against things like the mindless slut he is.
The position wasn't the most effective way for the boy to get himself off, but Mucliber supposed he would figure it out eventually. Besides, the way he was sitting allowed Mulciber to roughly point his shoe up into Harry's arse crack causing the boy to whimper. Harry hesitantly pushed back, letting the hard toe push against his hole.
"Such a naughty puppy," Mucliber said warmly. He couldn't wait until Harry was begging to be stuffed full of his cock–stuffed full of any Death Eater cock he could get his perverted little hands on.
Timidly, Harry began to rub his hard cock against his leg.
"That's it," Mulciber encouraged. "Get yourself off. Horny little puppies need to hump."
The barking started as soon as Harry began bucking his hips in earnest. ““Arf- ruuf- ruff- ruff-uuuuuuuuuur-Arf- ruuf- ruff- ruff-uuuuuuuuuur-“
Harry’s pants were wet with pre, and Mulciber looked on in wonder as The Chosen One rubbed against his leg, barking uncontrollably. Mulciber wasn’t new to participating in such depravity, yet this was somehow still the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He couldn't wait to bring him back to the manor to share with his friends.
Finally, the barking stopped, and at the same time wet warmth appear on his shin. Harry went limp and gasped against him in the aftermath of his debauchery.
"Harry, go back under," Mulciber said. "How did that feel?"
Harry's eyes immediately glazed over, but he remained in his spot at his feet. "It felt good."
"Will you tell the headmaster my true identity?"
Harry looked conflicted but finally answered, "No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're my Master."
"Very good. And you know if you turn me in, I can't give you what you need?"
"Yes, Master."
"And what do you need, Harry?"
"Death Eater cum."
"That's right, and if you're good and listen to me, I will make sure you have more than you could ever ask for."
"Thank you, Master."
"Everything I'm about to say is very important, so I need you to listen closely. Okay?"
"Yes, Master."
"When you leave my office, you will begin to feel thirsty again. This will continue until the next time we meet and you get the privilege of drinking my spend. You will refer to me as Master in person and in your head, but continue to call me Healer Williams to everyone else. Although it would feel so good to let everyone know what a nasty whore you are, you will keep your depravities a secret as we need you to keep your good reputation. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Your dreams will continue, but now you will be a willing cock sleeve for the Death Eaters. You will surrender completely into submission and beg them to hurt and use you. The more shame you feel, the more turned on you feel, and the more turned on you are, the more shame you feel."
"Yes, Master."
"You've made me so happy. Wake up."
Chapter Text
Harry knew he was in trouble.
A Death Eater had messed with his mind, and he was letting him. He needed to tell someone. He could tell Headmaster McGonagall, and she would send him to Saint Mungo's. There had to be something a real mind healer could do that would reverse whatever had been done to him.
There was only one week until Harry was to take his NEWTS, and he could barely study. His brain was overrun with sick fantasies of him being fucked and tortured by Death Eaters. He could never begin to imagine some of the stuff that went on in his dreams, and he was sure now that his master had something to do with it.
Still, he didn't care. He liked it too much. It was preferable to the feelings he'd had before. Every day, he'd been eaten alive by guilt and fear. Guilt about his parents and all the other people that had died for him. Fear about the never-ending battle against evil. He didn't want to become an auror, but its what was expected of him. He made people feel safe–a feeling he'd never experienced himself until now.
If he gave in to this, he wouldn't have to make any decisions again. He would just feel good all the time.
He remembered how it felt in Master's office. The only thing that mattered was quenching his thirst. He was animalistic in his want. He'd made a complete fool of himself, but just the memory was enough to have him hard in his pants again.
It had only been one day since his last appointment, but the thirst was already slowly setting in. It was now or never. Harry would have to get help before the desperation overtook him again or let himself slip away forever.
***
To keep suspicions away, Mulciber tried his best to give honest therapy to the majority of people sent to him. Sure, on rare occasions he gave into temptation, but for the most part, he behaved. There was one student, however, Mulciber considered his duty to influence.
Draco Malfoy had come to him at first, overcome with guilt due to his part in the war. He'd been conflicted by love for his family and confusion over right and wrong. As a gift to Lucius, he'd decided the simplest solution was to corrupt the little prince and bring him back to the dark side.
Similar to the way he conditioned Harry, he started by skewing how Draco perceived morality as a whole. If he could take away the child's belief in evil, it would make his transition into his father's protege much easier. Second, he used dreams to make Draco enjoy pain, but instead of being turned on by receiving it like Harry, he was made to enjoy inflicting it. Mulciber was sure he and Harry would become great friends.
Today, he'd decided to keep Draco late and reward him for his progress.
"What am I waiting for? I'm busy, and I don't have the time just to sit around."
"What did I say about respect?"
Malfoy dropped his scowl. "My apologies."
"I've arranged a surprise for you."
"Have you finally managed to get my father released from prison?"
"Not quite, but I think you'll see how close I am after today."
"Good."
A knock sounded on the door, and Mulciber smiled in anticipation. "Come in."
"Master, I ne–" Harry broke off when he realized they weren't alone. "I mean Healer Williams..."
"It's okay, Harry. You can address me as Master in front of Mister Malfoy."
Malfoy tilted his head in interest.
"Let's begin," Mulciber gestured for Harry to take a seat next to Draco. "Why don't you tell us how your week has been?"
Harry glanced between them, conflicted, but the desperation he must be feeling won out. "I'm so thirsty, Master, please."
"What are you thirsty for?"
"Death Eater cum. Please, I can't think. I've been trying to be normal, like you told me, but I can't stand it. I need it to—"
Draco's incredulous laugh broke through Harry's pathetic ramblings. "Merlin, what did you do to him?"
"I've made him more sympathetic to our cause."
"You've made him into a complete slut."
"And he loves it. Don't you, Harry?"
"Yes, Master," Harry whined. "Can I please have your cum now?"
"Why don't you tell Draco about how you're going to petition the Ministry to have his father released."
"I could do that. I'll do that."
"Very good boy." Mulciber fought back his smile at Harry's visible shudder. "Now, unfortunately, I'm not in the mood to give you what you desire right now, but luckily, there's another Death Eater in the room that might be able to help you...if you ask him real nice."
***
Harry turned towards Draco and saw that he was wetting his lips. Maybe that meant he would let Harry taste him. It had been such a long week that he'd almost broken and come to Master early to see if he would fill him with his cum. His brain was only able to think of one thing since his last session. He knew deep down that his former self would be horrified by his actions, but his new reality felt so good that he couldn't bring himself to stop.
He was so hungry to be used that he didn't even care that he would have to lower himself in front of his former school rival. That embarrassment only made it feel sweeter.
"Draco, please let me suck you."
Draco looked up at Master for guidance.
"Do whatever you want with the bitch. He'll let you."
“Will you let me do whatever I want, Potter?” Draco asked.
Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Anything.”
“He licked my cum off the floor last week,” Master told him. “Barked like a dog while he humped my leg too.”
“Merlin,” Malfoy said, eyes darkening. “Is that true?”
“Yes.” A part of him wanted to deny it, but that part was overridden by his thirst.
“How does it make you feel…being such a slut for Death Eater cocks?”
“I like it.”
“Would you let anyone fuck you?”
Harry thought about it. “I don’t know. I would let anyone who had the mark. I also like older, bad men.”
Draco laughed. “Is that all then?”
“I would let my godfather and my uncle.”
“You’d let your uncle fuck you?”
“Yes,” Harry said, and he realized in that moment he would. He would do anything for his uncle's approval. It felt like a missing piece, and its wrongness made him want it even more.
Draco looked up at Master and raised an eyebrow.
Master shrugged. “That part was more of a happy accident.”
“He’s absolutely fucked. Truly.”
“Isn’t he?” Master looked over with pride. “This is only just the beginning.”
“Stand up and remove your clothes,” Draco said, turning to him.
Harry eagerly listened. Standing in front of Draco, he waited for his next instructions.
Instead, Draco turned back to Master. “You’re just going to watch then?”
“Don’t be self-conscious,” Master smirked. “Us brothers share everything.”
”Alright, Potter, come here and lay across my lap.”
Harry quickly obliged. This was just like a fantasy he had where Sirius or his Uncle Vernon would spank him for being such a failure.
Rubbing his hands lightly over his arse, Malfoy stopped to pull apart his cheeks and look at his hole. Harry had never touched himself there despite having many dreams lately of being stretched and filled by Death Eaters every night. He honestly didn’t even think he was gay until recently. It was something he’d never thought about before.
As if reading his thoughts, Draco said, “He looks tight. Are you a virgin?”
“Y-yes.” Harry stammered as he felt the tip of Draco’s dry finger stick into him. It burned.
“I haven’t touched him there yet, but feel free,” Master confirmed.
Draco pulled his finger out and brought his hand down hard across Harry’s backside.
SMACK.
Harry instinctively tried to flinch away, even knowing this was what he craved—what he needed. Draco roughly grabbed the back of his hair, pulling his head back painfully. “Move away from me again, and you’ll regret it.”
Harry stayed as still as possible, and just when he thought maybe Draco wouldn’t spank him again, the hits came furiously, one after the other.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK
Harry couldn’t help but cry out from the pain of it, but deep down, he was elated. The pleasure washed over him in waves almost too strong for him to manage and temporarily eased his growing thirst.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK
He was rock hard against Draco’s leg, and he could feel Draco’s returning hardness digging into his lower abdomen. Draco liked this, too.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK
His bottom felt unbearably raw now. Harry was sure it must be red and littered with bruises, but still Draco didn’t relent.
“The little slut enjoys this,” He said to Master, his voice filled with wonder. Harry could feel Draco’s whole body trembling beneath him, and his hard cock was pressing into Harry, making him dizzy with want. Just as he thought Draco might be done with his punishment, the hits came again.
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK
Draco seemed to be getting desperate with every hit, and his fingers kept finding their way between Harry’s arse cheeks, roughly caressing his hole. “Get down on the ground,” he commanded. “I want you on all fours facing away from me.”
Harry immediately listened and waited eagerly for his next instructions. Looking up, he saw Master watching. His face looked proud, and that filled Harry with a deep feeling of contentment. Master’s hand lightly rubbed his half-hard cock through his pants.
“Put your face against the floor and show me your hole slut,” Draco snapped.
His cheek pressed against the cold stone as he brought his hands back to spread his arse apart so Draco could get a good look at him. It was wrong to expose himself like this–he knew that without a doubt. Giving Draco this power over him was humiliating. It was everything Draco would want, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to care about anything other than getting Death Eater cum.
“If you stop spreading your arse for me or flinch away at any time, I will put this memory into a pensive and show your precious little Gryffindors what a slut you are. Do you understand?”
“Yes!” Harry cried, the shame starting to make him feel floaty and disconnected from himself.
Without any further warning, Draco shot a stinging hex right at Harry’s bare arsehole. The shock of it sent an electrical current straight to Harry's dick. The pain was unbearable in such a tender place, but Harry was so messed up now that a part of him needed it.
“You’re pathetic,” Draco said, sending off another hex. Harry screamed at that one. “Nothing but a disgusting Death Eater whore now, aren’t you?” A third hex lit him up. “Answer me!”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Harry cried through the fourth and fifth.
“Tell me about it, Potter. Tell me all about what a depraved little slut you’ve become. How you would do anything to get your precious Death Eater cum.”
“Please, I need it,” Harry begged through the sixth. “I would do anything. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it!”
“Would you let my father fuck you?”
“Yes.”
“After everything he’s done?”
“Yes.”
“And when we take you back to the manor, you will let us do whatever we want to you?”
Harry thought about the implications. Would he let them do anything? That couldn’t be entirely true, but it was hard to think through his desperation. “I’m not sure. Maybe?”
Draco had stopped stinging him, and as much as he was thankful, he also missed the pain. His hole felt wrecked, and the burning was constant now whether or not he was being hexed. After a moment of consideration, Draco asked, “Would you let me turn you into my house elf? Serve me every day?”
Maybe if he weren't so thirsty and trapped in that thick fog brought on by the repeated ecstasy of punishment and degradation, he would say no. He was trapped, though, and the blood rushed to his face as he gritted out another simple "yes."
“I’d perform a bonding spell, have your magic chained, and leave you with nothing but a pillowcase to wear. Would you let me do that?”
“Yes.” He repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. He would let Draco do those things. He would almost welcome having it taken from him at this point. His agency. His accountability.
“I would call you Potty the house elf. Would you like that Potty?”
“Yes! Please Draco!” He couldn’t take this anymore. He was so thirsty!”
***
Mulciber loved watching his boys. They were both happily embracing everything he’d made them be. Draco was sadistic in the way he took enjoyment in torturing Harry. Lucius used to complain about how soft he was—about how his mother had spoiled him, causing him to be sensitive and afraid of violence. Now, the boy was everything his father dreamed he would be, and Harry agreeing to be the boy's house elf was delicious. He couldn’t, of course. Binding Harry’s magic like that would put a dent in his plans, but it was delightful to know the boy would tolerate something so obscene.
“It’s okay, Potty,” Draco smirked. “Why don’t you give me your wand, and I can make that a reality?”
Mulciber shot Draco a warning look. He was almost certain the boy would never do something so unalterable without permission, but still, he had to make sure. Draco winked at him in assurance.
To his absolute pleasure, Harry wordlessly summoned his wand from his robes and sent it soaring into Malfoy’s hands. The boy was so fucked up he would hand over his magic—the very essence of who he is.
“Back up until your arse is right in front of me. Stay presented.”
Harry listened, and Mulciber licked his lips in anticipation. He was excited to see what little Malfoy had in store.
“Mulciber said you acted like a bitch in heat. Barked like a dog, is that right?”
“Yes!”
“Do you know what dogs need?” Draco asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “Dogs need tails. That way, they can wag them when they ask for treats.” Harry screamed as Malfoy slowly slid the thinnest end of his wand into what must be his now excruciatingly raw arsehole. He slowly pushed slightly over a quarter of it in and left the rest of the long wood sticking straight out of him. “There bitch, now you have a tail. Why don’t you wag it?”
Mulciber’s cock was rock hard in his pants as he watched Harry clumsily shake his butt, making the wand wiggle pathetically. He never could resist a proper doggy slut, and Draco knew that. It was astounding how desperate the boy was for his approval. No wonder Lucius had such a penchant for making all his playthings call him Daddy. Maybe as a coming home present, he could tweak a couple more things in Draco during their “therapies.”
“Why don’t you bark for me?” Draco said, undoing his trousers, finally done playing with Harry. He pulled them right down, giving Mulciber a clear view of his cock and creamy white thighs. “Bark for me, and I’ll give you your special doggy milk.”
Harry gave out a pathetic little yip—hardly satisfying at all.
“Come on, Potty, you can do better than that, surely,” Draco’s voice was filled with amusement. “Keep wagging your tail.”
Harry’s “tail” wildly swung back and forth, and he began the same obscene barking that he’d done before. “Aruuuff-ruff-ruff-errrrrr-ruff-ruff-ruff.”
Draco looked up at Mulciber. “How on earth did you get him this messed up?”
“It wasn’t as easy as most,” Mulciber said cooly. “This one has a strong constitution, but any foundation can crumble if you know where to look for the cracks.”
“Come here, mutt,” Draco called his hard cock out now, practically dripping with anticipation.
Harry turned around and faced Draco, eager to get his dose of cum. Mulciber now had a clear view of Harry’s own wand sticking out of his swollen, abused hole. It was delectable. Maybe back at the manor, he could get Harry a magical butt plug fixed with a tail, paired with a nice collar with his name on it.
Unable to resist himself, he came up behind Harry, who was now licking Draco’s shaft and balls like he really was an over-eager puppy. Malfoy’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he seemed happy to let Harry lap at him messily.
“You’re so perfect,” Mulciber said, deciding Harry had had enough degradation and it was time for him to give him a bit of that approval he so desperately craved. He lightly grasped the wand sticking out of Harry and moved it slowly in deeper and back out. “You’re such a good little bitch for me. So well trained.”
Harry whined but didn’t stop licking at Malfoy.
“I bet you love the smell of his cock and balls. Good dogs love the scent of their owners, and since you are controlled by delicious Death Eater cum…that means anyone with the Dark Mark is your owner.”
Harry barked, his mouth firmly attached to Malfoy’s ballsack.
“Why don’t you move a little lower…that’s right…”
“Wait, what?” Draco asked sharply, coming back to himself.
“Come now.. this will feel good,” Mulciber assured him. “Actually, why don’t you turn around and give Harry better access.”
“I don’t know…”
“Harry needs to learn to love the scent of his masters. Come now… wouldn’t the satisfaction of having your old rival licking and sucking on your ass feel incredible?”
Truthfully, he just wanted to see the boys he’d corrupted engaging in something obscene. The thought of Harry mindlessly eating out Draco’s ass while wagging that ridiculous tail really did something to him. Maybe eventually, if Lucius allowed it, he could turn Draco into a little doggy slut too.
Harry listened to Mulciber anyway and hungrily licked below Draco’s balls. Draco gasped in surprise but opened his legs wider to give Harry more access.
“There, doesn’t that feel good?”
“Y-yeah..” Draco gasped.
“And Harry, now you can taste your master. I think you’ll crave having your face shoved in his arse. Won't you?”
Harry yipped.
“Turn over, Draco,” Mulciber commanded again, and this time he listened, flipping around and jutting his arse out towards Harry’s face. He hoped Draco would come just like this. He had to be so pent up after all that foreplay.
Harry hungrily dug in, lapping at Draco’s hole, “tail” still wagging excitedly. “You’re such a good boy. I’m going to take such good care of you. You won’t need to think anymore…no more hard decisions..and I will make sure you have all the Death Eater cum you could imagine.”
Draco was moaning as Harry’s enthusiasm increased, clearly spurred on by Mulciber’s kind words. “That’s it. You’re doing so good. Draco is going to come any moment.”
As if on cue, Draco moaned wildly as his cock released all over the smooth leather of his couch. Gently collapsing to his side, it gave Harry a clear view of his cum dripping down the backrest. “Please, please, please,” he said, waiting to be allowed to lick it up. It was sinful.
“Go ahead, Harry, you earned it.”
Clumsily and still on all fours, he climbed over Malfoy’s limp form, groaning when his tongue finally made contact. His eyes rolled back into his head in ecstasy, and although Mulciber was never one to dabble in addictive potions himself, he could recognize a junkie. Harry was positively brainless.
Recovered and a little unsure, Draco carefully removed himself from the couch and pulled his trousers back up.
“You may go, Draco,” Mulciber said, dismissing him. He wanted a bit of alone time with his little slut.
Draco slipped out without Harry even looking up. He continued to suck on the couch, determined to get every last drop. His ass was in the air showing his wand still sticking out.
“Still hungry?” Mulciber asked, pulling his cock out of his pants.
Harry turned eagerly, crawling towards him. “Yes, please, Master.”
“Harry, go under.”
Harry’s eyes glazed over immediately.
"We need to have a serious conversation."
"Yes, Master." Harry looked up at him, void of all emotions.
"In one week, you will be coming back to the manor with Draco. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"And do you want that?"
"Yes, Master."
"You will admit to your friends that you've secretly been seeing Draco behind their backs, and you will be staying with him over summer vacation. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
Mulciber would have to call Draco back and make sure he went along with the plan. Maybe he would do those last-minute tweaks on the boy's mind he'd been considering. He'd already instilled Draco with respect for his father, bordering on reverence–it wouldn't take much to direct his desire to please Lucius into something depraved. The man deserved compensation for the months he has spent in Azkaban.
"You told Draco earlier you would let him bind your magic. Was that true?"
"Yes, Master."
"Why would you do that?"
"I don't deserve magic."
"And why not?"
"For letting you do this to me. For enjoying it."
"Interesting. Would you like to go back to the way you were?"
"Never."
"Why?"
"I'm happy. I like being free."
"Do you want me to mess your mind up even more?"
"Yes, Master."
"Very good," Mulciber tried to hide his excitement. "I want your dreams to continue. I want your holes to ache with emptiness, and I want you to beg to be filled. I want you to dream about having your mouth and arse filled with as many Death Eater cocks as you can handle. The dirtier you feel, the better.
You won't be able to touch your cock, no matter how turned on you feel. You will only be able to get off by putting your tail back in and humping your cock against your bed until you come. I want your thirst to continue to rise and not be cured until either Malfoy or I decide to grace you with our cum. You will remain normal to your friends and the faculty. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Master."
"Excellent. Wake up, Harry."
***
Harry came back to himself, still aching and desperate even after finally getting his thirst quenched by Draco's delicious cum. He looked up at Master, waiting for direction.
"Do you want to come?"
Harry yipped, uncertain if he should use his words yet. It was clearly the right call because Master smiled down at him.
"Go ahead and touch yourself," Master said.
The relief that washed over him at the permission quickly dissolved when he realized he couldn't take himself in hand. He couldn't put the feeling into words, but it was like touching himself that way didn't make sense. It was the same way it felt when one of his professors asked him an especially hard question he didn't know the answer to.
He stared at Master's face, hoping for some direction.
"Puppy sluts can't touch themselves the same way horny boys can." Master supplied. He walked to the couch, picked up a cushion, and brought it over, placing it helpfully in front of Harry. "Why don't you rub your eager little cock on this."
Harry approached the pillow shyly, looking back at Master to make sure it was okay.
"It's okay," Master crooned. "you have permission."
Harry bent down, pressing his nose into the fabric. It smelt faintly of Master, but mostly, it was just old dust woven deep into the threads that a quick cleansing spell couldn't get out. It was the same way his sheets smelt when the house elves freshly washed and changed them. He wanted so badly to be surrounded again by the musky scent of Malfoy's sweaty balls.
"You were born to be a bitch," Master said, awe apparent in his voice. "I've barely trained you, yet here you are, sniffing around like a true mutt."
Harry whined.
"You deserve a reward for being so well-behaved. Put your head down on the pillow."
Harry listened, immediately lowering his face to the soft cushion, arse raised proudly in the air.
"Tongue out."
Harry let his tongue flop out of his mouth and lay against the fabric. He wagged his tail in excitement.
"Fuck, you're perfect," Master said. "I could see myself getting attached to you."
The praise made Harry's chest heat up.
"Move onto your side and look up at me."
Harry rolled over so that he was able to face Master the best he could without rolling onto his back and lodging his tail deeper inside him. He loved being like this–barely unable to think.
Master dropped his pants, kicking them off entirely and muttering what Harry thought was a floor cushioning charm. Before Harry could wonder what was happening, Master crouched down, lowering himself so he could sit on Harry's chest.
"Get it good and wet," He ordered, rubbing his cock against Harry's lips.
Harry hungrily lapped at the tip of his cock, whimpering as the euphoric taste of precum dripped onto his tongue. It was the most delicious flavour Harry had ever experienced–better than butterbeer or even treacle tart. Master bucked into his mouth, and Harry let the saliva pool so he could get Master's dick sloppy and slick like he'd asked. After a few minutes, Master leaned forward, taking his weight off of Harry's chest and pressing his ass into Harry's nose.
Harry inhaled greedily. Master smelt better than Draco had, all musky and pungent. Harry was sure it would smell exactly like this if he ever had the chance to smell freshly brewed Amortentia again. Master continued to rub his ass and balls all over Harry's face, and Harry let his tongue hang out, greedily lapping at whatever was in reach of his mouth.
"Fuck, that's so good," Master groaned, taking himself in hand. "You're such a dirty little slut."
He pressed his asshole firmly against Harry's mouth, and Harry pulled his master's cheeks apart to get in deeper. He licked and sucked, panting desperately as he worked his tongue past the rim. Master pushed down, spearing Harry's tongue deeper inside his hole as he sped up his stroking. Harry spread Master's ass even further to get more access, and Master rode his face in earnest, balls slamming against his forehead at a rapid pace while Master fucked his fist.
Harry was in ecstasy, surrounded by the scent and taste of his master. His dick was full and throbbing against his stomach, ready to come without even being touched.
Just as his pleasure was about to reach its climax, Master pulled back, pumping loads of hot cum over Harry's face and into his open mouth. Harry's cock immediately exploded, covering his chest and chin with his own spend. He ravenously scooped his master's cum from his cheeks and lips and sucked it off his fingers.
Master softly stroked down his side and gently pulled his wand from his aching arse. He used the end that had been shoved in his hole to scoop up even more cum and feed it into Harry's mouth. He sucked on the smooth wood until Master pulled it out and placed it beside him on the floor.
"Good boy."
Harry stared up at his master, and waves of gratitude crashed over him. He was a disgusting freak, and still, Master was so kind to him. He tried to muster up the energy to move, but his mind was hazy, and his limbs felt limp and unmovable. It was as if he was completely disconnected from his body.
"It's okay, sweet puppy," Master said, running his hand through his hair. "Sleep now. You've earned it."
Chapter Text
Mulciber waited a day before calling Draco back.
Having the boys play together went even better than he had anticipated. The way they’d both seamlessly stepped into their roles as sadist and painslut was everything he’d hoped for and more. Draco clearly took after his father in the way he humiliated Harry.
It was creative. A real natural talent that many didn’t have.
Mulciber had thoroughly enjoyed the show. Seeing Harry moaning and screaming under the brutal hexes Draco hit him with and the way he’d been obscenely breached with his own wand caused a warm glow to radiate in his chest. Harry had been so wrecked afterwards.
Draco’s arrival snapped him out of his reverie. He knocked twice as a courtesy and then let himself in.
“Well?” He said, throwing himself down on the couch. “You wanted me to come?”
Draco was a haughty little thing, and Mulciber would have liked to put him in his place. It was a pity Lucius would never let the seducing of his only heir stand.
He knew his limits.
“Yes,” Mulciber said. “I thought we could do with having one more appointment before the end of the year.”
“I thought my issues were resolved.”
“Well, one truly can’t put limits on self-improvement.”
“Oh, really?” Draco asked, unconvinced. “Somehow, I find myself less enthused to have you rooting around in my mind after seeing what you did to Potter.”
“Oh, come now. You don’t really think your father would let something like that stand, do you? You’re his pride and joy. He’d have my head on a platter.”
Draco straightened up. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am. He adores you,” Mulciber waved his hand, trying to appear nonchalant. “Never shuts up about his perfect baby boy. I know he was hard on you, but it’s only because he was scared for you…scared you wouldn’t be able to handle the life he wanted for you.”
“Well, now there's nothing to fear.” Draco’s cheeks flushed beautifully, and Mulciber was certain it would only take one session to turn Draco’s admiration for his father into something more deviant.
“Precisely.”
“So, why do I need another session? I thought Potter was my graduation present.”
“He was. I just need to iron out the kinks and ensure everything is in order as we advance. Things are going to get intense once Harry is back at the manor, and I need to know you’re equipped to deal with it.”
“Fine,” Draco said. “Make it quick, though. I have plans.”
“As you wish,” Mulciber smiled. “Draco, go under.”
Draco’s arrogant sneer instantly smoothed out into something placid, and his eyes emptied. He loved seeing the boy looking compliant. It was a refreshing change from his usual obnoxious superiority.
“Hello, Draco.”
“Hello, sir.”
“How are you feeling today?”
“Fine.”
“Did you enjoy your present?”
“Yes.”
“What did you enjoy about it?”
“I liked having power over Potter. It felt amazing to hurt him…and humiliate him.”
“Very good. Was there anything about what happened that you didn’t like?”
Draco’s brows knit together. “I—I didn’t like how I felt after.”
“After you came?”
“Yes.”
“What didn’t you like about it?”
“I felt dirty.”
“When he licked your arse?”
“Yes.”
“I see,” Mulciber paused a moment, trying to decide how to proceed. "You felt ashamed?"
"Yes."
"Because you like to have power over other people, but you don't like to be put in a position where you appear weak?"
"Yes."
"Is there anyone that you would be okay with appearing weak in front of?"
"I don't think so."
"Okay. How about someone that you would be okay with having power over you?"
Draco's eyebrows pinched together as he tried to come up with an answer.
"Maybe someone close to you."
"My father?"
Mulciber smiled. "Very good, Draco. Do you know why you'd be okay with your father having power over you?"
"I...don't know."
"That's okay. Do you want me to tell you?"
"Yes."
"It's because your father is your idol. He's the most important person to you, and you trust him more than anything. Is that true?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. I'm going to list some more statements about your father, and I want you to indicate whether each one is true or false. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"You trust your father to have power over you because he deserves to have power over you."
"True."
"Your father is the embodiment of everything a man should be."
"True."
"The reason you enjoy having power over others is to impress your father."
"True."
"You live to please your father."
Draco paused momentarily before answering, "True."
"Your father's love and acceptance is the most important thing to you."
"True."
It was satisfying to see that Draco already possessed the basic programming required for what he had planned. He knew the boy craved his father's approval, but his reverence and need to please Lucius went beyond even what he'd suspected.
"You think your father is the most handsome man, and you hope one day to be just as good-looking as him.”
Draco didn't answer immediately. Apparently, this statement was something Draco hadn't properly considered until now.
"You think your father is handsome," Muciber tried again.
"True."
"You hope one day you look just as good as him."
"True."
"No other man is as handsome as your father."
"True."
"You belong to your father," Mulciber said, getting ready to take this session in a more entertaining direction.
"True."
"You would do anything your father asked of you."
"True."
"There are no boundaries between you and your father."
"True."
Your father is allowed to touch you whenever and however he chooses.
Draco didn't answer.
"Your father is allowed to touch you whenever he wants."
"True."
"Your father is allowed to touch you however he wants."
"False."
"It feels comforting to have your father touching you."
"True."
"You enjoy hugs from your father."
"True."
"Whatever your father says is right."
"True."
"You're father is allowed to touch you in any way he wishes."
"True."
"You like to make your father happy."
"True."
"Therefore, if your father says it's okay and it makes your father happy, it makes you happy."
"True."
"It feels nice and comforting to have your father touching you no matter where he touches. You feel zero shame."
"True."
"Very good," Mulciber fought to keep the arousal out of his voice. "You are your father's special boy. Nobody will ever come close to being as outstanding and important as you."
Draco's eyes closed, and his mouth opened slightly at the words.
"Your father's praise is the best feeling in the world."
"True."
"Your father's praise makes you feel so good."
"True." Draco's flushed from the tips of his ears down his throat.
"Your father's praise and approval makes you feel aroused."
"I...I don't–"
"True or false only, Draco. Your father's praise and approval makes you feel aroused."
Draco's voice cracked when he answered, "True."
"Good boy," Mulciber couldn't help but taunt. He would not go much farther in today's session. He didn't want the altercations to be obvious to Lucius or Draco himself. His plan was to arrange the dominos and let them fall where they may.
If Lucius wanted to use Draco's devotion and worship of him in an unsavoury way, then that was up to him. Mulciber would be lying, though, if he didn't admit that the knowledge that Draco was now harbouring sexual feelings for his father wasn't exquisite.
Hopefully, Narcissa remained in France as long as possible.
"You will keep everything we talked about in this session buried deep in your psyche. From now on, when you touch yourself, you will do so with thoughts of pride of being such a good son. All the enjoyment you get out of inflicting pain is intensified when you remember it pleases your father. You will accept your intense love and admiration for your father as natural and never suspect it's a result of your sessions with me. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Wake up, Draco."
Draco's sneer immediately returned. "Well?" he said impatiently. "Are you finished?"
"I am," Mulciber answered. "Going forward, you and Harry will be pretending to be in love. He will be your boyfriend, and you will become friends with his friends. Do you think you can manage that?"
"Yes." Draco rolled his eyes.
"Harry will be returning with you to the Manor, and then we will begin working on freeing your father."
Draco's lit up at the mention of Lucius.
Mulciber did it. Finally, it was time for him to celebrate his accomplishments. He had the Golden Boy entirely under his control. Soon, if everything continued according to plan, he would be untouchable.
Chapter Text
"I just don't understand," Ron said as Draco put his arm around Harry.
"What's there to understand Weasel? We're in love."
Harry blushed as Draco pulled him close. It had been a few days since he told his friends about their secret love affair, and Draco had been sitting at their table for breakfast ever since. It was important that everyone believed they were an item.
Master said that Harry would be making some influences within the Ministry that his friends might not agree with, and Harry needed them to think he was blinded by love. They needed to make sure that no one suspected Harry's mind had been tampered with, and so Draco had to be integrated into his life.
They would start slow. Draco would be around constantly, but eventually, they would go to fewer and fewer dinners at the burrow, and everyone would just assume he was busy with Draco. It would be gradual, so slow that they wouldn't even realize Harry had pulled back from their lives until it was too late.
Harry would miss them, but he didn't deserve their friendship. He only deserved to be punished and used by Master and the other Death Eaters. The thought caused his body to get excited, and he whimpered.
He was so thirsty.
A silencing spell washed over him, and Draco leaned in to whisper in his ear. He slid his hand up Harry's thigh, stopping at the bulge in his robes. "You're such a fucking slut. Getting hard at the table in front of all your friends."
Draco was right.
"Maybe I'll take you back to my dorms later and share you with the boys. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
The thought of being a toy for the Slytherins wasn't particularly appealing, but he did want to make Draco happy. Pleasing Draco quelled the burning desire inside him to be accepted. If Draco wanted to see him be fucked by his friends, then the thought of doing what Draco wanted would probably be enough for him to get his own enjoyment from it.
A sharp pain in his groin pulled him back into reality, and he realized Draco was pinching his cock. It took everything in Harry not to moan at the table.
"I asked you a question," Draco hissed.
"Yes," Harry said, trying to keep a straight face. He was afraid to know what his friends must be seeing right now. "I'd like whatever you want to do to me."
Draco squeezed extra tight before letting go and removing the silencing charm.
"Oi," Ron snapped, "don't do that in front of us!"
Harry could barely form words.
"I was only trying to be polite," Draco said, "Next time, I'll just say what I want to say in front of you all."
"What Ron's trying to say," Hermione interjected, "is although we are supportive of your relationship, we would appreciate it if you waited until you were alone to say something that would be...inappropriate...for the general public to hear."
"Of course. My apologies, Granger," Draco removed his arm from around Harry and moved closer to Hermione. "Shall we go over tomorrow's exam?"
***
Harry bounced his knee uncontrollably as the train pulled up to King's Cross Station.
"Mulciber will be waiting for us back at the manor," Draco said as if reading his mind, "And then you will get your cum. Now go say goodbye to your friends, slut. Make sure you tell them we'll be travelling France for a few weeks so they don't expect to see you."
Harry nodded. He knew his lines well. Master said he would need a bit to get used to his roles at the Manor before he was allowed back into society.
He barely remembered saying goodbye to his friends. His mind focused only on one thing.
"Grab the trunks and follow along," Draco said, leaving his behind for Harry to drag his as well. They stopped next to an elegant carriage made of rich mahogany with gold accents. It was a bit much, even for a Malfoy.
As they rode, Harry imagined his new life. Master said he would get all the Death Eater cum he could ever want. There were Dolohov, Rowle and Yaxley all waiting for him now, and Master said they would all share their seed with Harry every day. He could just sit under the table, mouth open, waiting for whoever felt like feeding him their cock. Master also said that with Harry's help, they would attract new recruits, and Harry would also get to pleasure them too.
It wouldn't always be fun, of course. There would be roles he'd have to perform. Things in the Ministry that he would have to tweak for their cause. Harry promised he would start by getting Lucius exonerated and his full fortune returned. But even though he had a part to play, he was elated he would never have to think for himself again.
From now on, Master would control everything he did. He never had to worry or feel bad about anything. The only concern Harry would ever have going forward would be how to get Death Eater cum, and he'd never been so happy in his life.
"We're here, whore," Draco said, snapping him out of his reverie. "Are you ready?"
Notes:
Part 1 of the series is done! Part 2 will start with Harry’s new life at Malfoy Manor. Sorry if you wanted more smut for the last couple chapters.😔
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