Disclaimer: The plots are mine, everything else belongs to JKR.

Chapter 1

Harry sat in his bedroom, admiring his beautiful black wings. They spread in an impressing wingspan of thirteen feet.

Harry couldn't deny he was proud.

How exactly he developed the wings, Harry could not understand. Perhaps it was some kind of half-breed inheritance. An incredible nocturnal vision had been received, like an owl. It was at these times in the night Harry found no use for his glasses. He was sorry to say he still needed them in daylight.

Also gained was an acute sense of direction, which would undoubtedly come into good use later.

Hedwig had taken to this sudden and mysterious change, and Harry had made it a goal to fly with her.

And with it being 11:54 P.M. on the eve of Harry's seventeenth birthday, Harry decided to fly away free, with no worries of the war. He was now AWOL, independent! With his shrunken trunk in his pocket, and Hedwig by his side, he would be free. Totally, independently, free.

It would be his first time with his wings, actually flying, but Harry wasn't nervous of a crashing fall from his first time. Somehow, his instincts told him he'd be safe.

And thus, at the frantic beep of his watch, Harry adjusted himself on the windowsill. Without a second thought of Dumbledore's 'We'll be there in an hour to bring you to that place you just love, Grimauld place' letters, he prepared for his jump.

"Happy Birthday," he murmured to himself, somewhat a final statement.

And he leapt.

His wings shot out, and his back was pained for a moment as he struggled to gain altitude.

Soon, he had reached the height of his waiting owl who had followed him through the window for the flight.

Harry gripped his wand tightly, "Were never coming back here, girl. Never." Harry spat the last word venomously to Hedwig, who hooted happily in response.

Harry liked the words, and repeated them to himself, before flying off into the darkness.

Hedwig flew along side of Harry and they seemed to share each other's joy.

To Harry, not even a broomstick ride could compare to this thrilling feeling of the pure freedom in the windy air. Wind would whip across his face, flowing through his hair, ruffling his clothes.

He had decided not to stay at any inns for a while. The search for the great Harry Potter would almost never end, and would be as intense from the start to the end. If there ever was an end of the search.

So instead, he would try to find a nice mountainside to stay for a bit, and then move locations once more. A bit like Sirius had once been, always on the move.

When Harry finally did tire, he found he did not want to land. How wonderful were the sights…but he had the rest of his life for flying.

Harry searched for many spots to stay, which was hard to find in a place like London.

Harry also found the air was a nice place to think. He had plans; ones that would help him evade the war. He wanted to join neither side, these decisions had all been well thought out, with reasons behind them.

Harry had been studying on glamour charms, anything to show the world, "Nope, no Harry Potter here. Not. At. All."

Harry made a graceful turn around a mountain he had spotted just north of London. The trees looked so beautiful and detailed in the darkness night had brought upon them….

Beside him, his companion he had almost forgotten through his brooding, hooted warningly.

Harry looked at her, and saw her gazing fearfully below at something Harry had missed.

Harry let out a gasp as a long chain flew from the ground and wrapped itself around his wrist. He watched painfully as his wand dropped from his grasp and into a Deatheater's hand below.

Harry grabbed the cord that held tightly to his wrist, trying to relinquish its hold on him.

A second chain shot out, and wrapped itself around Harry's other wrist, as if the chain were suffocating his wrist, and rather not his neck.

Harry flailed in the air, feet kicking and wings flapping relentlessly. He was planning to escape the war, now he was literally going to be pulled back into it.

Several Deatheaters pulled each chain, causing Harry to roughly jerk forward, and further down to the ground. Hedwig nipped at the chains, shrieking wildly with fearful wide eyes.

"Go Hedwig! I want you to be sa-afe," Harry's voice wavered as another rough pull came from the cords.

"Go!" He shouted to the bird, which soon fluttered away. Harry only hoped he would see her again. Although a bird, still family.

Why don't they use magic? Harry thought. It would be so much easier. Maybe they want to play with me before I plunge down to my death.

Harry sighed. This was not how he wanted his seventeenth birthday to go.

He was finally able to legally use magic, and he had only shrunken his trunk.

Just great.

Harry was now only fifty feet in the air, and he wondered whether or not to keep struggling. There was no way out of this…

Maybe he could swoop down and grab for one of their wands…Harry doubted this would work… Maybe the Deatheaters would tire, and Harry could take the advantage and swoop up! If they tired, there were plenty more Deatheaters to take the job of pulling the chains down.

What Harry feared most about being on ground with the Deatheaters, was the fact Voldemort was there. His crimson eyes stood out brightly through everything. He was watching Harry quietly, a calm, yet frightening smile on his face.

Instead of flying up, Harry tried flying outward, away, this seemed to work, except, it was a bit more painful when his shoulder popped from the chain, which pulled him right back in the opposite direction.

This did not stop Harry; however sure he was he was going to fail. It wasn't until an unsuspecting Harry received several electrical shocks through the chains did he finally come to the ground in his weakness.

Harry glared at Voldemort, who had come forward, probably to boast over his triumph.

If only Harry had waited that extra hour to flee from the Durslelys' with Dumbledore! Why hadn't he? Surely this is worse?

"Harry, Harry, Harry…" Voldemort stepped closer, and seemed to be examining him. "Such beautiful wings…" Harry flinched as Voldemort lightly stroked his feathers.

"Don't. Touch. Me." Harry said through gritted teeth. Harry noticed his wand in Voldemort's pocket. If only he could reach it…

"Why Harry," Voldemort said, slowly caressing Harry's cheek. "Does it…bother you?" He whispered in Harry's ear.

Harry lunged at Voldemort, but the Dark Lord sidestepped the attack, and watched as the Deatheaters pulled the chains, causing Harry to fall flat on his face.

"My loyal servants, you shall all be rewarded for our triumph. You may leave us now." The Deatheaters bowed, and disapparated quickly at their Lords command.

Harry who had stood up and tried to walk away, had noticed the chains at the sudden movement, bury and attach themselves in the ground. Now he was stranded, helpless on some mountain, with the most feared Dark Lord of all times, that wanted specifically him-dead.

With a flick of his wand, the Dark Lord had the chains wrap fully around Harry, placing him in a sitting position on the grassy ground. "How about we get to somewhere a bit more…comfortable?"

Harry shook his head, his eyes holding a mixture of fear and anger. The Dark Lord said this so…well, almost as if he had specific intentions.

He suddenly collected himself, "No." he glared again.

"Please Potter, don't act as if you have any choice in the matter." Voldemort laughed, and he bent down and picked Harry up. He cradled Harry in his arms in a soothing way Harry did not like coming from Voldemort.

The Dark Lord nuzzled his head into Harry's soft pile of unruly raven hair. Harry didn't like the sudden affection from the Dark Lord and tried unsuccessfully to escape his grasp.

"Put me down, you bas- mmph." Harry stopped short when a gag was placed over his mouth.

"Play nice, Harry." Voldemort smiled down at him. And with a sudden turn, Voldemort apparated them away.

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Voldemort and Harry arrived in what appeared to be Voldemort's suite. There was a small elaborate cage, standing on a marble pillar in the corner of the room. It was made of pure ivory, with emeralds embedded into it. Harry assumed it was for Voldemort's owl, if he had one.

But what disturbed Harry, were the pictures, and articles, which took over most of the wall to his left.

All were of him. The articles- everyone about "The Boy-who-lived, Harry Potter, Their savior. And some pictures Harry saw were not from newspaper articles. Most of them weren't. So if the pictures were not clipped from a newspaper article…Where than did he get them?

He saw in one picture, him, Ron, and Hermione sitting underneath the big tree at Hogwarts, laughing hysterically.

Creepy.

Voldemort noticed Harry viewing the pictures, and removed the gag on Harry's mouth. He placed Harry on the bed, and sat down beside him. With the chains still binding the boy, he could not manage a sitting position.

"As you can see Harry, I've quite the obsession of you. Your power, it ceases to amaze me. Your youth, such innocence…such beauty." Long, white fingers stroked Harry's cheek.

Harry bit Voldemort's finger. The man didn't even flinch or curse, but laughed softly.

"So you like to play rough, eh Harry?" Voldemort teased.

Harry's eyes widened. That pervert! "You pervert!" Harry shouted, hoping for a reaction.

"Not a pervert Harry; just amazed by such beauty." Voldemort said, sliding off his robe.

Voldemort flicked his wand, and the chains slithered up Harry's body, and placed themselves once again on his wrists. Harry felt himself being pulled up as the chains connected to a bar on headboard of the bed.

"God no." Harry whispered at the realization. "No- NO!" Harry's legs kicked ferociously at his realization.

"I didn't think I'd need to replace this…" Voldemort said and replaced the gag on Harry's mouth. Voldemort crawled onto the bed beside Harry. Harry's wings had been folded up tightly to his back, and Voldemort again, stroke the beautiful black feathers. Harry whimpered, trying desperately to scoot away.

Voldemort pulled him close, and placed his arms around him. He placed a leg over Harry's to reduce the struggling. "Shh. Harry. Struggling will only make it worse. Shh." Voldemort tried whispering again in Harry's ear to soothe him.

Harry shouted loudly and incoherently through his gag, kicking his legs wildly, shooting out his wings.

Voldemort was shoved ungracefully from the bed by Harry's wings. The Dark Lord watched Harry there, panting heavily with a dangerous look on his face.

"I do love the way you look Harry. So angelic…like an angel. My little angel," Voldemort mused.

Harry felt disgust by the words. He was especially disgusted by the fact Voldemort had used a possessive noun for him.

"But since you seem so intent on being so disobedient…" A vial with a simmering blue potion appeared in Voldemort's hand. Voldemort neared him, and removed the gag.

Upon seeing Harry firmly clamp his mouth shut, Voldemort said sweetly, "Open your mouth, my little Angel."

No way was Harry going to take this potion. He didn't even recognize it. It could be anything…Harry shuddered.

Voldemort sighed, "I told you, struggling would only make it worse." Without warning, Voldemort threw his hand down onto Harry's scar. Harry determined not to scream, let out a gasp which Voldemort took advantage of. The potion was soon slithering down his throat, and into his stomach.

Harry gagged. It was disgusting! But this made Harry wonder…How come all of the other touches Harry received from Voldemort were never painful. It was confusing…and what was this potion going to do?

"I see you are wondering," Voldemort said, as the chains that were no longer needed, slipped to the floor. "A few things. The potion leaves you immobile, unable to move, yet completely flexible. Completely able to bend to my will." At this, Voldemort smirked.

"And I see you are curious about your scar. Yes, I can only cause you pain when I wish for it. It pleasures me, to know I have such power over you…over such a fragile, delicate creature…"

Voldemort caressed Harry's cheek, sending a slight wave of pain through their connection. Harry couldn't move a muscle.

Voldemort folded Harry's wings, and once again took his position next to Harry. The Dark Lord begin to nibble at Harry's neck, placing soft kisses upon it. Harry whimpered, trying to display sounds of disagreement. The Dark Lord slid his hands up Harry's shirt.

Harry did the best he could to scream, producing a loud monotone sound. Someone would help! Anyone! This was his enemy! His sworn fucking enemy!

Cold hands rubbed Harry's back, and the Dark Lord spoke softly into his ear, "Do not worry. You will grow accustomed to all of this. You will learn to beg for it."

Harry's shirt was magicked away, and he whimpered again. He looked into Voldemort's eyes, pleading silently for this all to stop.

Instead, The Dark Lord straddled Harry, admiring his pale, soft chest. Long, white fingers slithered into Harry's hair, combing slowly through it.

Voldemort bent down and began to claim Harry with a few more wet pecks on the cheek.

Harry could only hope Voldemort would not go to far in this. Nothing to serious. He wouldn't be able to bear losing his virginity too…Harry winced at the thought.

For a while, Voldemort teased Harry, saying sickening things to him, and placing more kisses on his cheeks. But soon, Voldemort had pressed his lips firmly on Harry's, gaining entrance Harry did not permit. It was not as though he could stop it, though.

Harry was trying his best not to cry, although his eyes were slightly red.

Several minutes later, the Dark Lord gazed at Harry, making him extremely uncomfortable. (Not that he wasn't already…)

"What is wrong, my Angel?" Voldemort asked, sounding caring and unknowing. "We will stop for today…I have, many things to do." Voldemort picked up Harry, cradling him much like he had before, and Harry noticed, he was now able to move.

"Reducio," This surprised Harry, and his eyes shined brightly with confusion as he began to… shrink. Harry was held now by Voldemort, firmly around the waist, as to not to escape.

"What the hell are you playing at, Voldemort?" Harry asked, not surprised to hear his voice sound slightly fearful.

Within a few strides, they were standing before the cage Harry had seen before. He now guessed it wasn't for an owl.

"No. Hell. No." There was no way Harry would be caged like some animal. Wings meant nothing.

"Welcome home, my little Angel." Voldemort said, opening the cage and before placing Harry inside, gave him a kiss on the head. Harry immediately ran for the door, which shut before Harry could reach it.

"I will see you later, little one." And with that, Voldemort walked away and out of the suite, a smirk on his snake-like face.

Harry looked around. Inside the cage was rather nice. A small wardrobe, with, of course, black and emerald clothing. A bathroom, with one measly curtain for privacy. A huge bed, compared to his size, and much more entertainment including a snack bar.

Harry sat on the black leather couch, determined not to cry. He would not break, as Voldemort had implied. No. Not at all.

He

Would

Not

Break.

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So, honestly, this story came to me from a Disney movie. I'm just re-editing. Fucking typos, you know?