WARNING! These last few chapters are going to contain a small child in sexual situations. You heard me. Small child. Sexual situations. These chapters are not intended to be sexually gratifying to the adult reading them. They are a look into the psyche of an abused child and the abuse he suffered. They illustrate why and how Harry is so dependent on Voldemort and how that's changed as he looks back on certain events in his life.

Chapter 19
Harry's POV; age 10

I leeched onto Master's leg, burying my face in the billowing robes he only wore when going out, and cried. At the time I hardly cared that I was ten years old or that my behavior was inappropriate. It didn't matter that Mister Malfoy was standing in the doorway. I'm not sure that would have ever had an impact, he's always been there and I've never question his presence, no matter what might be going on. Surprisingly, though, I cared even less that Mister Lestrange was there; he was all but forgotten at the sudden realization that Master was leaving.

He wasn't leaving me forever, but at the time, in my childlike mind, he might as well have been. The war was turning slowly in our favor and over the past week Master had spent all his time at the drafting table that was now covered in scratch marks and ink. I think I remember it being very clean less than a few years ago. He'd collected stack after stack of books on obscure spells, rituals, and tactics, all piled along the wall in no particular order, some strewn open on the floor around his chair.

It was around this time that I had begun to teach myself to read whenever I was sure he wasn't looking. Master had, the other day, caught me looking in one of he bloodier volumes on what I think was sacrifices (I never saw the book again afterward, so I can't be sure what it said) and had declared it was time he move certain items out of the room and out of my reach.

Not that I understood what he meant when he said that, but I sure as hell got the idea when his two faithful death eaters showed up and began removing books. I behaved myself at first, hoping it was just the books, hoping that he meant only to remove the ones he didn't need, that were getting in the way of research and cluttering the floor.

I didn't understand that I was the thing getting in the way. To be fair it wasn't entirely my fault. I was bored, and ten year olds in general do not handle boredom well. In fact, as far as ten year olds went I thought I was doing quite well; I occasionally sang to myself, I only pestered him for attention every few hours, and I rarely, once or twice an hour, asked what he was reading. So, maybe I was annoying. I wanted his attention. He was my world, and suddenly we were apart even when we were in the same room. It was frustrating to me as well as him, and I didn't understand why he had to leave when all it would take was a few hours a day to shut me up.

I remained quietly seated on the bed, anxiously changing positions every so often, until they grabbed the desk. As they started man-handling it out the door I gaped like a fish. Mister Lestrange seemed curious as to what I was doing, or going to do, he'd never seen me move so much, but I'm fairly sure that Mister Malfoy knew. Mister Malfoy had to have known. He stopped right outside the door, put his hand in the way to keep it from closing, and watched.

Moments passed as I stared at the now empty corner, mouth hanging open, "Master, what are you doing?"

I knew what he was doing, I just didn't want to believe it. He no longer intended to study in the bedroom, and that meant my time with him would be even less than it already was. Would he still study all night if that meant I would be alone?

He looked nervously at Mister Malfoy, a gesture I put no thought to at the time. It was a rather imploring look, as though he were asking for help. I suppose Draco must have thrown tons of fits, in fact I'm sure of it, and if Mister Malfoy's amused face was anything to go by he knew I was about to throw my first real one. It didn't mean he'd give advice, but I suppose it confirmed Master's suspicions.

Stumbling off the high bed, I threw myself onto the floor at Master's feet, taking my usual submissive posture, "What's going on? Why are they taking the desk?"

Then again maybe I didn't know. It's so hard to differentiate between now and then. It's hard to even imagine how naïve I was, how innocent. Is it really possible for someone to be that innocent or did I just pretend? I don't think I was pretending; I can't remember ever having to pretend.

Master looked down, a rather annoyed furrow in his brow, "I need peace and quite to plan my war, little pet, so I'm moving the desk and the books into the study downstairs."

Looking up at him, I tilted forward, purposefully getting closer to him in anticipation of the next answer, "Can I come downstairs too, then?"

After a moment he shook his head and my worst fears were realized. I would never see him, never. He'd be in the study all day and all night, and he would probably even eat in there as well. Wrapping my arms around his leg, I was determined not to let go. If he wanted to go downstairs so bad he'd have to take me with him.

So that was how I found myself in absolute tears, knees firmly planted on the ground, face in his robes, half to catch his soothing scent and half so that I would not have to see the anger in his eyes. He pulled at the leg, but I simply held on tighter, "Please, don't go! I'll be good, I'll be quiet, I won't make a sound. I promise."

Master tried to pull away again, and when he failed I no longer needed to look in his eyes, I could hear the anger in his voice, "Let go." I gripped my own arms as well in an attempt to make the hold more firm. My finger nails were digging into the pale flesh, leaving little red half moons, "Let go this instant."

"No!" The word left my mouth before I could stop it. My eyes widened against his leg, and out of the corner of my eye I could Mister Malfoy's mouth drop. It got very still. Master wasn't moving but I could feel the absolute rage coming off him now, and while it didn't terrify my the way I suppose it should have it did make me desperate to right myself, "Please don't leave, please?"

"Lucius, detach it this instant." I cried and bawled, but it wasn't long before I was deposited on the bed and the three of them were gone, leaving me to think about what Master would do to me for that outburst. Had it just been Mister Malfoy, had I not said 'no,' then it wouldn't have mattered; but Mister Lestrange was there too, and I had said 'no,' I had refused to do as he asked.

Eventually I cried myself to sleep, it didn't take very long, and when I woke up I realized that Tibby had not roused me for dinner. The little meal of steamed vegetables and bread was laid by the door and I ate half of it miserably, picking at the rest till I lost interest in even trying.

I was left alone for three days. My mood became despondent at the isolation. The fear that he might not return was over powering; if he didn't it would be all my fault. By the time I finally heard the soft thuds of Master's feet on the hallway, I was desperate. I had been sitting in the window with the curtains drawn back to allow light into the room, as there was no one to be annoyed by it and now sat

Sitting up I watched the door until the knob turned and then ran to the center of the room, falling to my knees and waited anxiously for him to enter. Part of me was glad to see him looking as haggard as I was sure I looked, there were bags under his eyes and he seemed slightly paler. It was satisfying to know that without me he faltered, even if I would never point it out. That knowledge was what made later isolation so unnaturally bearable; he was suffering, too, he was looking forward to his return as much as I was, if not more.

Sitting still, I watched the floor as he approached and knelt before me, "Sweet little pet." My eyes closed and I leaned into his touch as he placed his hand against the side of my face, "You've been very bad, and I've been wondering why. But perhaps it was obvious."

I tilted my face slightly upward, unwilling to break contact with him so soon, "Master?"

"What made you assume you could tell me no?" I wasn't afraid he would hurt me. He had never hurt me. It won't ever be like that again, I'll never forget the look in his eyes when he struck me, I'll always be looking for it, afraid to find it.
Closing my eyes again I breathing him in despite our distance and cuddled his hand slightly, "I've no idea, Master, but I am sorry. I'm so sorry."

He moved his fingers to my hair and ruffled it affectionately, "I know you are, pet, but I can't have it happen again. You've been watching the children outside too often." I looked at him questioningly. "I never thought much of it before, but the past few days I've watched them myself and they are rather insolent. You've been getting ideas from them."

I didn't think I had, but couldn't deny it. He had to be correct. He was Master, never wrong, always right. Laying my head against his chest awkwardly, I muttered more apologies, but he didn't seem to want that anymore. His fingers twined with my black strange, without hurting me he tilted my face up towards him. He looked at me meaningfully, "You are not a child you are a pet, and if you forget that again the window will be boarded."

It didn't hurt then. None of this hurt then, so why does it hurt now? Why when I think of those words does my chest tighten and I feel like my heart could burst? God, it hurts. And I don't want to remember what happened next, I don't want to remember that, but then I haven't wanted to remember any of this. I used to live in the present, the past was nothing to me. I thought of it with neither fondness nor sorrow, in fact, I never thought of it at all.

Why now? Why won't it stop? Why can I feel his hand on me, caressing me as though he loved me, or even cared? I want to think he cared. I wish he did, perhaps he could have, but never the way I wanted. I want Severus; I want to remember that and only that. It's all overlapping. Master setting me on the bed, his hands running down my arm and shushing me as though I were a skittish animal. Severus drawing me into his lap, whispering words of love and understanding. Master pulling me forward to take him into my mouth tonelessly, tastelessly. The bitter sweet taste of Severus as he slid past my wanting lips. Master positioning me on my hands and knees, Severus pulling me into his lap; cold hands, warm hands; emotions of love, need, and apathy; of nothing and everything, all mixed up and confused in my head.

I can't want him, I can't want Severus, I can't want that anymore because he's going to die. Master will kill him, and then I'll die as well. I'll mourn to death if I keep remembering his promises, and his eyes, and his moans, and the way I felt.

Always remember Master will come, he'll always come for me. It could take forever and he'd be at the end, waiting for me. He needs me and I have to need him back. I have to wait. Never forget. I can forget some things; I can forget that I did forget, forget that Tibby died for it, I just can't forget that he will come.

I have to remember what I am. I knew it when Severus first found me. When he was just some stranger standing in his thick black robes, holding the death eater mask that marked him as trust worthy, and I had to know where Master was because that was the only thing that was important. "Mister, what's wrong? Where's Master? Is he hurt?"

Please say he isn't. I need to know he's okay. I'm nothing without him, he's who I am, he defines me. He shook his head and I thought it meant everything was okay. Maybe it didn't, but I needed that reassurance and so I took it. Then he opened his mouth, that perfect, sweet mouth, and asked the question that had never been asked of me before that moment. "Who are you?"

I should never have forgotten, "Who am I? I'm Masters Pet."

-finis-