Nox In Aeternum Est

Rated M (for a reason people)

Summary: Harry Potter is depressed. He's already lost Sirius, what else could go wrong? Apparently a lot. Warning: will rape, torture, language, and SLASH. Dark Harry. Eventual HP/LV, still working out the details. Do not read if you can't handle it. You have been warned, I expect no flames. This is my first story, so constructive criticism would be nice.

Chapter 1

Unbeknownst to his many supporters, Harry Potter was currently suffering through the worst depression he had ever faced. He had had years of torment at the hands of his abusive relatives, the Dursleys, but the hopelessness he felt as a child was nothing compared to the emptiness and guilt he felt now. Even though he had only known Sirius Black for two years, those two years had given him a sense of family, something Harry had never had before. But now Sirius was dead, and it was all his fault.

If only he had listened Hermione, none of this would have happened. Harry never would have gone to the Department of Mysteries, never would have risked his friends' lives if he had thought things through. He should have known that it was Voldemort playing with his mind. It was only a matter of time, after all, if he could see into Voldemort's mind, Voldemort would have been able to see into his mind. Voldemort had exploited Harry's love for his godfather. Harry would not stand by if he thought his godfather was in trouble, and Voldemort knew this. And so Harry, like a true Gryffindor, had rushed to the Department of Mysteries without thinking of the consequences. In doing so, he caused his godfather's death. For in the end, it was Sirius who had to come to Harry's rescue. And now he was dead.

In moments of clarity, Harry was consumed not by grief but by thoughts of revenge; he wanted to cause Bellatrix Lestrange as much pain as he felt now. His cruciatus curse may have been weak before, but he would make sure that by the next time he saw Lestrange, she would know exactly how he felt about her. However these moments were few and far between; for the most part, Harry was just plain depressed.

Returning to his aunt and uncle's house was not helping Harry's mind recover; rather, his relatives were doing their best to make his life hell. In all the years he'd lived with them, Harry's relatives had insulted him, beaten him, and starved him. And while he hated them for it, Harry was used to this type of abuse. However there was something new about the way his uncle was behaving this summer.

If Harry said something his relatives didn't like, there were certain things he had come to expect would happen. Vernon's face would turn purple, veins popping out of his forehead. Then, his uncle would force Harry up to the Dudley's second bedroom, the one Harry had been using for 5 years now. Vernon would then force Harry to take off his shirt. If Harry refused to take it off himself, Vernon would rip it off him, not caring if he nearly pulled Harry's arms out of their sockets. Then came the beating. Harry had learned by now not to cry or to scream, for sounds of his pain only seemed to incite his uncle to keep going. The only sounds in the room would be the smack of the belt on Harry's back and Vernon panting. Harry was used to this. What he was not used to was his uncle muttering strangely to himself after every beating. If Harry was less absorbed in his grief and physical pain he would have seen the telltale bulge in his uncle's pants. But Harry couldn't care less about his uncle and his "lessons". All he cared about was that his Sirius was gone, and he was never coming back.

Nothing changed for a while. In fact, Harry's life, depressing as it was, took on a sort of routine. Harry would wake up, do his chores like a good little slave, "step out of line" sometime in the afternoon, and get beaten by his uncle. After these beatings Harry would carefully tiptoe down the stairs and sneak out of the house. He didn't go far; he didn't see the point. He just needed an escape from his insane relatives. Harry would make his way down Privet Drive to the nearby park, where he would sit on the swings for hours reflecting on his life. Eventually, not wanting to get locked out, Harry would slowly walk back to the Dursley's. Then he would retreat into his small bedroom and try sleep away his painful emotions. Sometimes he was successful, but most times, Harry ended up sobbing into his pillow until he finally managed to wear himself out enough to sleep.

One day everything changed.

Harry was supposed to be weeding the garden. He knew this, and he knew his uncle would punish him severely as soon as he found out that Harry had not completed his task. Nonetheless, Harry couldn't bring himself to labor under the July sun. Why? Two reasons. For one, Harry thought that if he was going to be beaten one way or another, he may as well skip the hard labor. For another, because a small part of Harry wanted to be punished. A little voice in Harry's mind told him that even though the beatings his uncle gave him were for ridiculous reasons, he deserved to somehow be punished for his failures. Harry couldn't deny that he had failed: he had failed his friends and worse, he had failed his godfather and been a direct cause his demise. And so, Harry waited in his room for the inevitable.

Vernon Dursley had had yet another grueling day at work. Or at least, he considered it to be difficult. Sucking up to people wasn't easy after all. And while he spend most of his office time trying to move up the company ladder, it was usually a pointless endeavor. The only opportunity he had ever had had been with the Masons, and he had lost his chance because of his nephew's...abnormalities. So, as usual, Vernon was in a foul mood.

As Vernon entered number 4 Privet Drive, he found himself grinning. He sincerely hoped that the boy had done something wrong today. Anything to give him an excuse to try out his latest idea. Sure, Vernon enjoyed beating the shit out of his nephew. But what Vernon really wanted was to break the boy's spirit. Harry was obviously still fighting back, despite his clear depression; he was sarcastic and rude to his relatives and he often refused to complete his assigned chores. Vernon's grin grew wider, 'Well' he thought, 'if a good whipping won't teach the freak his lesson, I'll make sure he learns it this time.'

"Petunia?" he called from the doorway, "Where are you?"

"Right here, darling" she replied. Petunia hurriedly stuffed the roast into the oven and made her way over to her husband. Giving him a small peck on the cheek, she said "How was your day?"

Vernon scowled. "The usual," he said gruffly. Petunia, used to this response, merely nodded and returned to the kitchen. She was very aware of the her husband's frustration with his job, and knew that he wouldn't want to talk about it. Vernon did not like to speak of his own shortcomings, preferring to take out his anger on the boy.

"Vernon", said Petunia, her voice full of worry, "Duddikins won't be home until late, he's out with his friends." After the incident with the dementy things last year, Petunia was very reluctant to let her precious boy out of her sight.

Vernon ignored her. He loved his wife, but sometimes she worried herself over the smallest things. Especially when it came to their son. Vernon, on the other hand, thought Dudley was old enough to take care of himself. He was more concerned about what his nephew had done while he was away, so he could find some reason to punish him.

"Where's the boy?"

Petunia pursed her lips. "How should I know? I haven't seen him all day." She peered out the window into the slightly untidy garden. "He was supposed to weed the garden at some point, but from what I can see, he hasn't touched it."

Vernon was inwardly gleeful. "So he thinks he can skip his chores now does he?" Vernon smiled in a most disturbing way and headed towards the stairs, all the while muttering to himself.

Harry was lying on his bed, once again thinking about his godfather. He was so immersed in his memories that he barely noticed when his uncle entered the room.

"Boy!"

Startled out of his thoughts, Harry scarcely had time to sit up before his uncle was yanking him off the bed.

"What is it uncle dearest, have I done something wrong?" Harry smiled innocently. Vernon's face, already bright red, turned a lovely shade of violet.

"Shirt off! Hands against the wall!"

Harry sighed. He knew this was coming, but it didn't make it anymore pleasant to endure. Little did he know what his uncle really had planned.

Harry quickly took off his gigantic shirt and did as he was told. He knew the longer he took to obey his uncle, the longer Vernon would beat him for.

Vernon drank in the sight of his nephew half naked and took a deep breath. Something in Vernon knew what he was planning was wrong, but most of him really didn't give a damn. Vernon was not a man of morals; he did whatever he thought would give him the most pleasure in life, not caring about what it did to anyone else.

As Vernon took of his belt and began to smack it against his nephew's back, he took note of the boy's silence. 'That won't do,' he thought. Vernon wanted to hear the boy sobbing and begging him to stop. Vernon brought the belt down harder, and saw that he was drawing blood. Harry seemed to notice the increase in force as well and began to breathe very deeply to keep himself from crying out. Vernon frowned at the blood running down his nephew's back. He didn't want the boy too injured, or he wouldn't get the reaction he wanted from the second part of his "lesson".

Harry was surprised when his uncle stopped beating him after only ten minutes or so. Normally his uncle would punish him for at least half an hour after he had "misbehaved." His uncle would only stop when he was too out of breath to continue. Harry figured Vernon was merely taking a break, and would resume thrashing him in a moment. Therefore Harry, his back to his uncle, didn't see Vernon pulling down his pants and boxers. Harry didn't have the faintest idea of what was really going on until his uncle's erection was pressed up against him.

Vernon had Harry pinned to the wall. There was no escape.

As Vernon began to pull down Harry's jeans, Harry was in shock. This couldn't be happening. He was Harry fucking Potter. He was not about to be raped by his uncle. Dumbledore was keeping an eye on him wasn't he? Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen to him. Dumbledore must have wards on the house that would tell him what was happening. Dumbledore would rescue him, wouldn't he?

Vernon had kept Harry's hands pinned above his head with one hand and removed Harry's remaining clothing with the other. Finally, when Harry was fully unclothed, Vernon made his move. Harry, in shock, didn't register as his uncle pulled him over to his bed and slammed him face down into the covers. Harry's brain was focused solely on thoughts of rescue.

"Remember who's in control, boy. This is my house, and you live by my rules. This is your punishment for breaking them."

And with that Vernon thrust into Harry.

Tears rolled down Harry's face. Dumbledore hadn't come to his rescue. He and his fucking Order of the Phoenix were just going to sit back and let the Boy Who Lived get raped. This couldn't be happening. 'But it is happening' said a voice in Harry's mind. 'No one's going to save you.'

Something in Harry broke. The people he had trusted most had betrayed him. Shock quickly turned to rage. And Harry's magic responded.

Vernon Dursley was in bliss. He had finally broken his freakish nephew. All it had taken was a couple of thrusts and the boy had broken down in tears.
And Vernon was thoroughly enjoying the act of raping his nephew. This was so much better than sex with Petunia. Vernon loved the sensation of total control and the knowledge that he was causing Harry pain. 'I should have thought of this sooner' he thought. Vernon closed his eyes and let himself be overwhelmed by pleasure. He didn't notice when Harry's tears stopped, when the objects in the room began to shake. Vernon was so close. All he need was a little more and he would reach completion. With one final plunge, he shuddered and came inside his nephew.

Vernon pulled back. "Well boy, I think you've learned your lesson this time." The objects in the room stopped shaking.

"Do you?" Harry said quietly. He turned around to face his tormentor.

Vernon finally noticed that something was off. The boy was surrounded by a darkness that was completely impenetrable by any form of light. Neither the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window nor the dim artificial lighting of the room affected it. Vernon began to back away.

"Don't try anything freaky boy. That school of yours will kick you out."

Harry snarled. "What makes you think I care anymore?" And with that, the dark magic that had been building around him lashed out, cutting off Vernon's airways.

"Boy.." Vernon wheezed, "You can't do this to me...I'm your uncle."

Harry said nothing. He was enraged. Everyone he had trusted had betrayed him. He had been violated. And now, his abuser dared to speak to him again. Harry's magic tightened it's hold on Vernon Dursley. He was not going to escape. Harry watched as Vernon choked, struggling to try and remove the invisible hands that held his throat. Vernon's face slowly turned an unnatural shade of blue. His limbs began to shake. Vernon struggled to remain conscious as his oxygen supply was completely cut off. However it was to no avail. Deprived of oxygen for too long, Vernon Dursley died.

It was not until Vernon Dursley fell to the floor, eyes wide and unseeing, that Harry realized what had happened. Harry struggled not to vomit. He had been raped. He had killed someone. Unable to accept the events of the past hour, Harry's mind went numb. He slowly put on his clothes and left the room.

Harry soon found himself back on the swings in the park. He couldn't think. He stared blankly into the distance, waiting for the horrible dream to stop. It had to be a dream. There was no way that...he couldn't have...

It was in this state of shock that the Death Eaters found him.

Having successfully disposed of Harry's single guard without raising any alarms, four Death Eaters strolled into the muggle park and surrounded Harry Potter.

"Aw, did ickle baby Potter have a bad day?"

Harry started. He hadn't expected to hear that voice for a long time.

"What are you doing here? How did you get past the guard?" Harry's voice was calm, but inwardly he was panicking. He didn't have his wand. He didn't have his broom. How could he possibly escape this time?

"What, Kinsley Shacklebolt?" came the voice of Lucius Malfoy from behind one of the masks, "He was remarkably easy to deal with. Did the Order really only send one guard to protect their savior?"

"You...killed him?"

"Well not me personally, I think Bella had the pleasure..."

Harry sighed and resigned himself. "Get on with it then. Voldemort ordered you to kill me, didn't he?"

"Oh you wish Potter," said one of the others, chuckling darkly. Harry didn't recognize the voice. "Stupefy."

Harry's world went black.