Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything goes to their respective owners.

I warn you that this story may get a little dark. I want to tap into the darker part of Harry Potter that we all know is there. Harry Potter is not evil in this story, nor is he a Dark Wizard. I only mean that he is not a perfect as the original story makes him out to be. There will be some BDSM but not a extensive amount since I want to focus more on reasons that Harry Potter is the way he is. This story is post Hogwarts and begins three years after the defeat of Voldemort and more details will be given as the story goes on.

Chapter I:

The dark room was large but held little furniture, only a bed, dresser and a chest. The windows were closed with heavy curtains that blocked out the light of the almost full moon. A thick smell of sweat and seamen filled the air and the only sounds that could be heard was a low whimper from the body that was tied tightly to the headboard. The body wore nothing but leather cuffs that were tied together at the wrists and connected to the thick straps on the wooden headboard. Another body sat next to the spent form, softly stroking the dark hair from his eye.

The second body stood up and picked up the feather whip to place it back in the black chest at the end of the bed. Once done he went back to the still tied body and reached for the leather strips. "Sleep, I'll wake you in a few." Once freed the body curled his arms to his chest and curled on his side, not bothering with a blanket because it wasn't needed. It was the beginning of August and after a long few hours of...extensive workouts, they would be warm enough to sleep through the night.

The other body moved and quietly left for the door on the other side of the room and entered the bathroom, careful to turn on the light after the door was closed. In the reflection the body saw a tall man with the permanently tousled, black hair that just barely touched his shoulders. His hard jawbone outlined his face, giving his a strong and possessive look and with bright emerald, green eyes to match. One on the most profound attribute of his appearance would probably be the famous lightning bolt scar on his forehead. When he was younger the scar was small and barely took up a inch of space but when the fateful day that he encountered and defeated the Dark Lord he had found out something even Dumbledore didn't know.

The scar was a permanent mark of Dark magic.

The scar grew that night after the war was over from the lack of control the Horcrux had over him. The tip stretched up and touched the hairline of his forehead while the bottom reached all the way to the under eyelid of his right eye, the line almost going right through his own pupil. He was shocked but never bothered to care about it, though it startled the rest of the Wizarding World. How shameful! The-Boy-Who-Lived with a permanent mark of Dark Magic?! Yeah, the public had a riot with that one.

But Harry Potter didn't care. He stopped caring years ago and never bothered to clear their doubts. Let them believe what they want, I know what I am and what I've done and it's none of their damn business. That's how he lived now, doing what he wanted, what he needed whenever.

Harry ran a hand through his hair before turning the shower on blasting the hot water as high as he could. The water brought ease to Harry's exhausted muscles and mind, allowing him a time of peace before a possible hurricane. He brought his hands to rub at his face before dragging his fingers down his chest, mapping out his own valleys of skin and muscles. It was a habit of him that he would do when he was younger, to see if he found any new scars or to feel the bones of his ribs and hips. Now that he was older Harry made sure to always eat, hating the feel of thin skin and fragile bones.

The door faintly opened but Harry was very aware of when a body was moving in his bedroom, years of being forced to watch his back taught him to listen to everything. The open shower hid nothing of Harry to the figure slowly walking into the water behind him. Unsure hands lightly caressed his shoulders and trailed down his spine. "You are suppose to be sleeping."

Jimmy, or was it Tommy, stepped closer and slowly brought his fingers to touch his shoulder blades. Harry hated people touching no matter who it was. His old friends use to pull him into too tight hugs, roughly rubbing his head, pulling at his arms to drag him away. No matter what the situation it was Harry never like being roughed up. But that doesn't mean he wanted to be treated like a delicate flower either. He wasn't weak and years of fighting a bloody war toughened him up.

Harry Potter just didn't like people touching.

"I wanted to join you, Milord." Bobby, or whatever his name is, whispered against the back of his neck. Harry could never remember the boy's name, or any of his partners for that matter, so he would settle for simple pet names like Kitten or Baby. And for some reason Kitten had a kink for calling Harry 'Milord'. Harry was never really turned on when he was called that but allowed Kitten to do so because it turned him on. Whatever the boy wanted.

Kitten was barely of legal age when he first approached Harry to be his sub. Still in Hogwarts and learning to become a Charms Professor, yet he loved to be spanked with bare hands while being tied and blindfolded before having his ass stretched wide for anyone willing. That was probably the reason why Harry had kept the boy for a few months now. "You had enough. Rest." It was a order and Kitten knew it.

"I shall wait for you then." Disappointment was clear in his tone of voice but Harry didn't care. He never allowed himself to get too close to any sub, it was in his rules.

1) Never take in any virgins.

2) Talk first, sex later.

3) Don't take any sub to your bed.

4) What happens behind closed doors stays forever behind closed doors.

5) Drop the sub if he/she gets too attached.

6) Don't ever meet them in public.

7) Make sure they know the rules!

It's a fairly simple list that Harry sticks by as if it was the Bible.

Moments later Harry leaves the shower and grabs only his towel to dry his hair. Kitten is laying on the bad on his stomach and seemed to finally doze off. This relaxes Harry a bit before he realizes that he would have to drop Kitten and walk away. The boy was getting far too attached for their own good. Harry tossed the towel to the side and reached for his black slacks and shoes. He needed to leave now, his thoughts screaming at him to sever all contact with the boy and move on with his life. Kitten would learn to do the same.

Within ten minutes Harry was out the door, leaving behind a note on the door explaining why he was leaving and what Kitten should do. Harry exited the abandoned apartment complex that was heavily glamoured and warded so muggles could get in. The building was actually a famous club owned by a perverted old man that had a boner for Harry and would allow him to do as he pleased, with a fair price of course. It would be a while before Harry would walk back in and find another partner to play with.

"Are you still having those dreams, Harry?" The softly spoken question was practically on repeat every time he saw her. Her big, brown eyes stared at him with fear and pity while her forever bushy hair held her small face perfectly. Harry always met up with Hermione on Saturday afternoon for a cup of tea and cake. They've been doing this small tradition for a little over a year now and it made Harry smile to know that Hermione was still loyal to their friendship.

"Yeah...I wish you would quit asking me that." Harry grumbled while taking a sip. "It's nothing new, creepy dreams that replay over again."

Hermione lowered her gaze to the table between them. "I wish you would trust me enough to tell me more about these dreams. I hate not knowing how I can help you." Harry's eyes squeezed shut as he repressed a sigh. If there was anyone in this world that can make Harry climb mountains just for a flower it would be Hermione.

"I don't want to know what you would think of me if I told you." Harry opened his eyes and glanced around at the wizards and witches that still continue to gawk at him even years after the final battle. "I hate seeing judging eyes." A group of three young witches that couldn't of been older than fifteen were whispering to themselves as they tried to look appealing pretty. He only blinked at them blandly and turned back to Hermione.

She bit her lip. "Harry, for as long as I've know you, don't you think I would be the last person to judge you?" Her voice was soft, quiet and desperate. "I've seen you at your very worst and best. You wouldn't judge me for anything right?" Harry shook his head. "Then I would judge you either. Besides, they're dreams Harry. A result of an over reactive imagination."

Harry leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs on either sides of the table's legs. There was a faint cat call in the distance and Harry nearly groaned loudly, running out of patience for these people who obviously don't have lives. Harry pulled out a few gallons and signed his name on a napkin on the table. "Let's head back to my place and talk." The brightest smile that Harry had seen in months lit up Hermione's face.

They both stood up and apparated to Harry's secluded house near a beach. He bought this place privately and made sure that nobody except a few handful of people know about. Harry was content, for the first time since he first stepped through Hogwarts, with his home and planned on staying here for a very long time. "The lilies are growing beautifully, Harry." The house was small, fit for one person and an occasional guest with two medium size pots that the white lilies were growing at the front door.

Harry smiled. "Thank you, let's head inside. I'm gonna need a drink for this." Inside was very little furniture. Only a love seat, one large chair, a table and bookshelf filled in the main living room. The colors simple, purple and green with a splash of brown. Hermione sat herself on the love seat while Harry went to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of whisky and two glasses before going back to the room and offering a glass.

"Oh, no thanks Harry." He shrugged and poured himself a glass before dropping down in his seat and kicking off his shoes. They stayed into silence at first, not uncomfortable but strange silence. Hermione took a deep breath of air and leaned forward. "I want you to start from the beginning Harry. Tell me when they first start, what they were like and how you felt."

Harry took a swing of his hard drink before carefully placing it back on the table. "It started three days after the battle."

Hello and welcome to the first chapter of Whips and Wands. Tell me what you think and I'll update as soon as I can. Until next time!~