A/N: This is the new version of Even the Light can Die out, which was previously deleted from this site, because apparently I'm too violent and too perverted to rate anything of mine just "R". Not that that's stopping me or anything, hehe. I'm sorry this took so long to post, I really am. And thanks so very much to my spectacular beta (she's so good that it's kind of disturbing) and everyone who supported this story in the past! I hope you like it!

IMPORTANT NOTE: In order not to have this deleted, all the scenes that go beyond R will be cut out until I find a site on which to post the full, bloody, uncensored story. When I find this site, I will post the link in with this story for those who wish to see Even the Light can Die out in all of it's violent glory, but continue to post the censored version here. If you have the name of such a site, please, tell me, and describe it or something because for some reason the messages cut out the link's name. So really, if you have a name for a non-prudish site, please, please email me. My email address is available on my homepage.

(Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the characters in it, or Hogwarts, the original plot, and so on. What I do own is Hades, who is completely and utterly mine, and the twisted plot, dialogue, details of this fanfic, etc. I'm not J.K Rowling nor do I pretend to be.)

(Warnings: Rape, slash, torture, language, lots of violence, slavery Harry's a slave, for one much darkness, incest, probably some self harm, some suicidal thinking and urges, and if anything else comes up I will add it in. I don't aim to trigger or upset people. By reading past these warnings, you have just taken any responsibility out of my hands. Though really, this stuff will be toned down for this particular site, so you probably don't have to worry about it.)

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Harry Potter's vision was being eaten away by bursts of brightly colored light, beginning to blot out the world in large, shapeless blotches. He would gladly have welcomed the inevitable darkness that meant oblivion, except that whenever he was knocked unconscious, the situation always managed to be worse when he woke up than when he'd been knocked out. And so he fought to stay conscious.

"Hades…please…" Harry croaked, feeling his windpipe begin to give way under the demon's iron grip.

"Please, what?" Hades asked pleasantly, grinning, flashing wicked fangs. His perfect, white teeth were accompanied by deadly canines, and the rest, though they looked vaguely human, were sharp as well. When he spoke you caught glimpses, if he wanted you to. When he grinned like this, it was an image out of a nightmare. Though as always, that 'nightmare' was just too gorgeous to be categorized as such.

Harry almost couldn't say it, but he whispered, "Stop." His hands clawed weakly at the fingers around his neck. It wasn't a conscious decision, because logic had proved a thousand times over that Hades was so very, very much stronger than he. It was one of the barest of survival instincts; an automatic reaction because he couldn't not struggle.

Harry lost several seconds, and he saw Hades' mouth move for a split second, but no sound came out. The next thing he knew he had been released in a sudden rush, and without the hand to support him, collapsed to the floor, coughing uncontrollably and gasping for breath.

Chest heaving as it attempted to make up for the breath he had lost, Harry stared up at the demon from the floor. His breath rattled in and out of his open mouth, a hand to his aching throat.

Yet Hades hadn't crushed his throat, hadn't squeezed half as hard as he could easily have done, and had done before. Harry wasn't sure he knew why. Hades wasn't one to spare anyone pain, ever. Just one to endlessly cause it.

"It's no fun if you're going to pass out," Hades said playfully, dropping to his knees in front of Harry, who was still relearning how to breathe.

"After all, the games are only beginning." Hades smiled.

Harry stared back into the silver eyes and what he saw in them made his pulse speed up. He froze, like a cornered mouse before a cat. He knew the sort of games Hades liked to play and would do nearly anything in the world not to play them.

Then it was like a switch had been flicked, and Harry had been in the dark all along. His terror dissolved, and his eyes followed the demon's movements, but not with suspicion or fear. Once he saw Hades like that, he couldn't understand, couldn't grasp why he had been afraid. It was like a memory that just wouldn't surface.

Hades rose like he had unseen strings attached to him that had pulled him to his feet. People, humans, don't move like that, Harry marveled. Like Hades had muscles in places that people never knew existed.

Hades stood, arms folded over his bare chest as Harry did nothing but stare at him. Every detail of his body fascinated him, enraptured him.

Hades' eyes were the feature you usually studied first, because there was nothing like them on Earth. They might be considered perfectly human if it weren't for the liquid silver of them; though there were times, in Hades' more demonic moments, when the silver glowed. Once, and only once, Harry had seen that silver glow with an inner fire, and swallow the whites of his eyes completely, the black human pupil narrowing to something like a snake's. Harry didn't want to remember that, simply because he'd much rather devour every inch of Hades with his eyes.

Hades' face was in perfect symmetry, and utterly flawless, from the dark eyebrows arching above those incredible eyes to the lips that you just knew were meant for so much more than talking. Harry had to try to meet Hades' eyes when he spoke and not watch those seductive lips instead. His milky white skin was smooth, soft, and always warm to the touch, no matter the temperature around him. It was the kind of skin that has never known an imperfection, and makes you reach out to touch it, just to see if it's real; if it's just as soft, just as perfect as it looks, as if it was kissed by moonlight.

Harry's eyes followed the amazingly long black hair that hung all the way down to just before the ass that Harry struggled not to watch whenever he walked behind the demon. That hair was thick, like liquid silk falling around the demon, strands of it framing his face, since Hades was facing towards Harry now, he went back from the face, down Hades' neck, to the beautifully masculine chest, to follow the sleekly muscled arms to his long-fingered, currently human hands, then down the narrow hips and the long, jean-clad legs.

Almost feminine sounding if described wrong, but at any angle you looked at him from, it was painfully clear that Hades was male. With an inhumanly, utterly flawless, exotic beauty, and an air to him that gave off sensuality, elegance, violence, and sex, like women wore perfume, Hades turned lesbians and straight men bisexual, though only for him of course. If he lifted the glamour. Hades needed glamour, not to enhance his beauty, but to dim it, so that its brilliance would not blind.

Hades had been the immediate and decisive factor that told Harry that he definitely liked men, too.

But Harry would not, could not stare any longer, because it was suddenly hard to breathe around the desire now ruling his body. He wanted to run his fingers through all of that long hair, wanted to caress every inch of him, wanted to….

Harry was on his feet and walking towards Hades without making the conscious decision to do so.

The world was hazy, he couldn't think, like maybe something was pressing in from the outside, but it was unimportant, utterly insignificant. As soon as Harry had half noticed it, it had died, completely, and the faint essence of it may as well have never been. Like the distant buzz of an insect that seconds later flew too close to the flame and was burned to nothing.

Everything had narrowed down to one thing. It was like having tunnel vision. All he could see was Hades; all he could want was Hades. He was so beautiful…so very, very beautiful….

The "switch" was flicked again, and it was like waking up from a strange dream, the kind where you knew it was a very good one but it shouldn't have been, and it should have been a nightmare.

Harry heard what he had said, like an echo of another's voice, though it was as if he had said it in another reality. The words he had spoken made the blood rush to his face.

By this time, it was almost too late. Harry was on the floor, with Hades looking down at him, and he didn't quite remember getting there. But he had no doubt what could – no, would – have happened if Hades hadn't brought him back to himself.

"Fuck!" Fear chilled Harry's skin, swept through him in a wave that made his eyes wide, mouth dry. Harry tried to pull away, disoriented, angry, and panicking. "Don't ever do that again! And get off of me!"

Hades was actually sitting on Harry, knees spread so that one was on either side of him. Two hands pinned both of Harry's wrists just level with his head. By some small miracle, the only piece of clothing missing was the shirt that Hades had never had in the first place.

Hades widened his eyes, mock innocent. "But I thought this was what you wanted, Harry. You shouldn't talk like that if you don't mean it."

Color rose to heat Harry's face again. He knew what Hades was reminding him of, the heated words he had spoken not a minute ago. Harry couldn't even remember them exactly, but he did remember how he had said them. The pure need, the heat in his own voice….Harry shivered with the memory.

To drown out what he had felt, said, done, Harry said angrily, "You forced me to feel that, Hades! I wasn't myself. I was under your control."

"Are you convincing me, or yourself?" Hades asked, amused. "I didn't force you. I force you to not have to feel like this, and that's the only lie here. This is reality, how it would be, at best. Anyway, I only affect you in the first place of your own desire, just like everyone else. And let me tell you, there was no shortage of it!" Hades laughed. "Satan, you must have some control just to keep from –"

"Stop!" Harry interrupted. "Listen to me carefully, Hades: I fucking loathe you. I hate you with everything I have. I spend every day tormented by you, every night, every second of my life. You take everything from me. You took away my future, you took away my freedom, you took away any chance of rebuilding a life for myself. I – hate – you!" Harry spat the last three words.

"You're so melodramatic, Harry," Hades said dismissively. "Then maybe this will teach you just how little hate can be worth." Hades lowered himself some so that he was even closer to Harry. "No matter how much you hate me, or think you do, if you truly hated me with everything you had, you wouldn't be underneath me right now."

Harry used the only real argument he had right now, even though he knew it wasn't true. It was actually the opposite, if you thought of it. "You controlled my body, my mind, Hades! How could I have avoided this?"

"This is going nowhere. Just let me say this, Harry," Hades said, face almost solemn, but intense, with a fine heat in his eyes. "That…what you felt…was absolutely nothing. That was only a fraction of what you do feel, what you could feel, unlocked. I can make it so much more. Someday I'll show you just what I mean."

Harry stared warily into Hades' pale eyes. Those eyes never stayed the same for long. The silver changed color, too, from pale to dark and everywhere in between, even if they stayed human otherwise.

Harry's mouth was suddenly dry, and he had to clear his throat before he asked, "What do you mean?" To him it had sounded threatening or sexual, maybe both, and he still had no idea what the words themselves meant.

"Several different things," Hades said, and with that cryptic comment, swung Harry up to his feet. "I'm tired of talking."

Harry face remained cautious, masking a feeling of dread and a heart beginning to beat faster.

"Another day. For now, I don't want you lusting after me too much." Hades slung Harry over his shoulder as though he weighed nothing.

Harry closed his eyes. So that was the next game. Harry wondered briefly if he could kill himself somewhere along the way. Preferably right now, but on the stairs at least. He didn't know if he would survive this time, and he didn't mean physically. Hades would let him die on a whim some day, when he was bored, most likely. But for now, he liked his toys alive and screaming.

No…I'm still living for something. Harry told himself firmly. Though what that could possibly be, I have no fucking idea.

"I hate that fucking bed," Harry whispered to himself as they ascended the stairs of the dungeon. It was a rather odd thing to say, maybe, because if he didn't get hurt every time he was on the bed he would like it very much. It wasn't the bed that was the problem; it was what was done on it, or more specifically, Hades himself. But saying it somehow left him with a little more dignity, or something like it, because the alternatives would be pleading with Hades (which was both humiliating and utterly pointless) or kicking and struggling and breaking down into screams, and Hades would like that.

Hades grinned "If you'd rather be fucked against the hard wall of the dungeon, then by all means..."

"No," Harry said flatly. He tried not to think or feel, shutting out everything, and…goddamn the world! Did Hades have to carry him like this?! With Harry's head hanging down the middle of Hades' back, so that he got to watch that perfect ass move with every step he took?

A short time later, Harry suppressed a sigh of utter frustration. They were in Hades' bedroom, and he had done nothing but watch Hades' back side as he walked. Fuck.

Well, that had actually shut out everything, what he had wanted, but not in the way he had hoped. Especially after telling Hades just how much he hated him, and unconsciously resolving to hate him even more, to stop lusting after him. So much for that.

Harry was tossed onto the bed, facedown, and felt his body seize up, and not with fear, but with Hades' power. He couldn't move, and though it was not the first time Hades had done this particular magic to him, he still found it hard to breathe, his body tricking him into believing he couldn't draw breath, because he couldn't move. It still made him have to control his panic, the fear that pressed in from all sides.

With some effort, Harry got his breathing under control, and while he obviously didn't like the paralysis gripping his entire body, he accepted it. He had fought it several times before, ending in a panic attack and no progress whatsoever. The best way to deal with this was, unfortunately, to accept that you wouldn't move unless Hades wanted you to.

Instinctively, he tried to look at Hades, but couldn't so much as twitch his head. He couldn't see Hades, and that scared him, too. First involuntary lesson your instincts learn in the tender care of Hades was that you never take your eyes off him if you can help it.

"You've got far too many clothes on."

Harry was flipped so that Hades was above him, a hand on either side of him, hair falling around them like a black curtain. The long fingered, elegant human hands were still human, but in the place of their human nails were pearly white claws. Sharpened to a wicked point, they were, however, not the true form that Hades' hands took when he was fully demon.

Hades positioned one of those deadly nails at the base of Harry's neck, and Harry's pulse sped up. In a fast, almost unseen, movement, Hades ripped the shirt he had been wearing to shreds, and Harry couldn't suppress the small sound that escaped him. If he could move, he would have twitched, at the very least, and the claws would most likely have ripped more than clothing. But as it was, he couldn't move, and he could only hold his breath, trying to remain as still as possible (which was stupid because he couldn't have moved if he had wanted to).

Somehow, the skin tight shirt was in pieces, but his skin was untouched. Harry idly wondered how long it had taken Hades to perfect that little trick.

"I wish you'd stop doing that," Harry sighed, and his voice only shook a little. "I'm running out of clothes."

Hades grinned, but otherwise ignored him. Harry wasn't running out of clothes. He was running out of clothes that a relatively normal person might be wearing.

Hades unbuttoned Harry's pants, unzipped the fly, taking his time as Harry really did stop breathing, his bravado having evaporated in a rush of remembered fear. Hades slid them in a smooth, practiced, motion from his legs, to the floor, and there were no more clothes to shed.

One of those clawed fingers stroked his cheek, lightly, and he felt blood trickle down his neck. The wound was even fairly deep, though the demon had done nothing more than scrape it.

Harry stared up at Hades once again, thoroughly trapped, refusing to show his fear, though his body was trembling and couldn't stop. Apparently he could move, just enough to tremble. His past experience was that the magic allowed him to move for certain things, but it did its job in bringing out a strange form of claustrophobia that fed Harry's fear of this even more.

How someone could manage to be so drop dead, incredibly sexy, the definition of perfection, and still be terrifying, and demonic, Harry didn't understand. But Hades managed, easily. He made you want him until he was all you thought about, made you look at him with a starving man's gaze, and want him so much that you really didn't care what he did to you, as long as it was him that did it. He also made you fear him, more than anything in this world, and have part of you hate him so much it could kill you.

Hades lowered himself onto Harry, and a long, slender, but human tongue flicked out to lazily trace the trail of blood from the cut on his cheek, down his bare chest, and Harry squirmed, and couldn't help it. It felt good, and it wasn't supposed to, damnit!

"Stop that," Harry said hoarsely.

Hades looked up, licked a stray drop of crimson from his lips, and Harry's eyes followed the movement. "It's rape, Harry. If I want to make you feel pleasure before the pain, I will."

Harry lowered his eyes. He didn't know quite what was in them, and he didn't want Hades to see it.

"However," Hades said, placing a strangely chaste kiss on Harry's lips, "This is rape, tonight, and not seduction."

Before Harry could feel some relief that insult wasn't going to be added to injury, Hades deepened the kiss. Silken lips sliding over Harry's, Hades whispered against him, "For now."

Harry said nothing, swallowing, because his head was spinning once again, and that second he didn't know if he could speak. And if he did, what he would say. Right now all he knew was that Hades was pressing against him, that his hair smelled indescribably delicious, and that he could still taste him from the kiss. And that he wanted more, and this had nothing to do with having his mind messed with. This was just what he felt, plainly and simply.

Hades smiled. "Sometimes it's almost hard to rape you because I'd rather fuck you. You really are beautiful."

Harry couldn't fully appreciate the fact that Hades had just said something nice to him, because he was lost at, "rather fuck you."

"Wow, you just believed me, didn't you?" Hades said, never even blinking, and grinned. "You're pathetic."

"What – "

In a whirl of colors, Harry was no longer looking up at Hades, and though it made his head spin, it cleared something up for him. Just another game. Hades got to feel his victim hard and wanting, pressed against him, kissing him, right before he raped him.

CENSOREDCENSOREDCENSOREDCENSOREDCENSOREDCENSORED

"Get…off," Harry rasped, when his heart beat had slowed, and he could think just a little past the pain. Enough to cover the basic need to get help, to heal, and get Hades out from inside of him.

It might have been moments, minutes, hours, Harry couldn't tell, because his sense of time was gone, and he didn't know if it had ended some time ago, but Hades had decided to rape him again, and if so, how many times it had happened.

Hades drew himself out of Harry and rolled to the other side of the large bed. Harry closed his eyes, tears squeezing between them still, and knew he was shaking, but couldn't stop. He just wanted to disappear, have the bed open up and swallow him. He didn't want to think, didn't want to feel. More than anything in the world, he wanted pure obliteration. He tried to curl in on himself, to cease to exist, but Hades touched him, fairly lightly, and still Harry flinched like he had hit him.

"Don't you fucking touch me," Harry said quietly. He would have screamed it, but his throat hurt too much to do that.

Hades ignored Harry and drew the hurting boy towards him until he was holding him, and it hurt too much to move, so Harry had no choice but to let him, though it drew a whimper from him.

No matter how much he had wanted to make no noise, Hades always knew just where it hurt most, always knew just what to do to either surprise a sound from him, or tear it from his unwilling mouth. And just like it was every fucking time, he had been anything but silent.

This close, even without looking at him, he could smell him, that indescribable scent that was purely Hades, and wanted to lean into the touch like a cat and its favorite person. Even now.

"It hurts," Harry said, tears running down his face. It hurt even to say that, his throat sore and hurting from the noises that had come from it.

What he had wanted to say was that he loathed him, wanted to hurt him in any and all ways possible, that he was a sick bastard. Anything but the weak, stupid, and Someone knows redundant, two words, "It hurts".

He wasn't crying out of self pity. Harry would never do that. No, if you discounted the main reason (so much pain that he couldn't even move without screaming) it was for being helpless. So helpless that he couldn't move if Hades didn't want him to, couldn't speak his mind, couldn't use magic, couldn't do anything that wasn't Hades' decision first. And what he wanted most right now was to melt away into nothing, at the very least fall asleep, and he couldn't even do that. He had lost all freedom he ever had, and more than all the other torture that he went through, it was that fact that ate away at any remaining will to live. And tonight that will to survive had finally been butchered. If not tomorrow, or forever even, for now, death seemed like a wonderful concept.

Though let's not forget yet another reason for why he cried. For even vaguely wanting Hades, for at times wanting him so badly that he wanted him to do what he did, all of it. (Even now…) That he had been fully hard, with the taste of Hades' mouth on his, when the pain had started. This was what hurt, what burned, even more.

You don't lust after your rapist, your 'master' that bought you so casually, like you could buy a pet. The twisted bastard that lives for your pain. The man that you know is a real demon, and would slaughter you on a whim, and forget about you the second your body was disposed of. You loathe them, you plan revenge against them, but you do not want them, even if it's just their body. Even if they are the single most beautiful thing you have ever laid eyes upon.

To lust after Hades, after all that he had done, and was still doing, was what tormented him more than almost anything else. Harry would say, more than any physical or otherwise torture ever could, but that would be a lie. There was no one alive better at doing what Hades did.

"It hurts," Harry whispered, saying those two damn words again, but to himself, without realizing he had said them at all.

Harry was distracted by too much else to notice the smile playing on the demon's lips. Hades had heard, of course, and he knew that Harry wasn't talking about any physical pain this time.

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Draco Malfoy leaned his head against the cold wall of his cell. He was so hungry it hurt, might have made him crumple in a corner clutching his stomach if he wasn't used to it.

Ignoring his stomach, just like old times, he distracted himself with more of the rather bitter thoughts that he couldn't seem to stop thinking.

The downfall of the Dark Lord was supposed to be a good thing, damnit. Potter kills Dark Lord, Dark Lord dies, everyone's happy. Simple.

So what had happened?! Hogwarts, protected by Dumbledore himself and impossible to burn, burned down, the goddamn slave trade becomes a way of life, chaos envelopes the wizarding world.

That was all Draco knew…Hogwarts had appeared to be smothered in flames, the shouts filling the quiet night air. Then he must have hit his head, because all he remembered next was waking up at the house of his now dead "master", wondering why he had survived. No one told him anything, and he had no idea what was happening now, really.

Draco closed his eyes. He knew absolutely nothing. All those fucking questions but not one answer. And he, Draco Malfoy was not a respected aristocrat, not anyone, just another slave in the market, waiting for his next master. The master that he would never have to meet.

The Slytherin's first and only master hadn't been that bad, considering. He had made the mistake of pissing Draco off, and then been stupid enough to leave his wand lying around. Draco did not like being ordered around, and didn't answer to anyone but himself, and Lucius, mainly because if he didn't it would mean pain. And thus, his first master was lying facedown in the mud in a pigsty, quite dead, and for all Draco knew, still unfound.

Yet here he was again. He had been knocked unconscious, again, woken up here, about three days ago. He was filthy, he had lost everything, everything, and he was dying - which was fine with him.

Dying was a better option than serving anyone. It was lucky the bastard known as Fudge and his guards didn't keep a very good eye on whether his little slaves ate the measly amount of food shoved in twice a day.

Draco wasn't making the effort to stay alive, not anymore. He wasn't serving anyone and he wasn't going to be anyone's puppet or pet. He wasn't going to kill anyone unless he bloody well wanted to for his own reasons. The only two people he had ever fought for, killed for, and served was himself and his father, and to the death, it would stay that way.

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A/N: REVIEW, because it's been so long and I miss the old reviewers! Please review, especially everyone who followed the old version of this story before it was deleted, because I'm rewriting it for you guys. Hugs to all of you! Criticisms, rants, insults, comments, whatever you want to throw at me is more than welcome. Be brutally honest. Flames are welcomed with open arms, I love them.