The Lord's Dominion

"I apologize, my lord."

The young man - a boy, really - was on his knees, and his voice shook as he failed to stifle the tremors wracking his body. His harsh breaths sounded hollow in the cold, cavernous room.

He chuckled softly, causing the boy to timidly look up at him with the slightest glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"You apologize? How...quaint."

He met the boy's eyes for but a moment, before he lifted his foot and stepped on his head, forcing his brow to touch the cold stone floor.

"My friends, did you hear that? He apologizes."

A tide of uneasy laughter washed over the room.

"My lord...please..."

The boy's voice was strained, thin and twisting.

"Please?"

"Please...have mercy..."

He chuckled again. "Mercy...what a curious thought. Mercy..."

He stepped backwards a pace, releasing the boy's head.

"Look at me."

Reluctantly, the boy lifted his eyes once again, recoiling at the sight of the malicious grin being directed at him. Indeed, there was nothing kind, nothing benevolent, nothing merciful about whatever sentiment stretched and curled his lips.

"What is it you desire?" he asked slowly, patronizingly.

"Mercy...my lord. Mercy..."

"Very well. Your lord will show you mercy..."

"Thank you, my lord, thank you -"

"...eventually. Crucio."

A scream tore through the boy's throat, and he relished in the sound of it, breathing deeply as dark magic boiled in the air around them, caressing his skin and burning through his veins with a delicious sort of electricity. The rush was incredible – he could feel himself becoming dizzy with pleasure, as a sweet melody buzzed in his head and sensual static danced under his skin; he felt so there, so present, so alive.

The young man was writhing on the ground, now, and he could feel his grin widen at the sight of the fool's muscle spasms and violent twitches, punctuating his hoarse screams. There were times he actually craved the failure of his followers, just because moments like this were so...enjoyable.

However, it was bad for morale. His followers didn't seem to perform quite as well after seeing their comrades being tortured into insanity...this much was obvious from past experience. And while it was a treat to punish them, they had to actually get things done. If they couldn't do that, why would he put up with them in the first place?

He sighed, and then released the curse, watching curiously as the boy tried to compose himself.

"M-my lord...p-p-please...g-grant me -"

"Mercy? You already said that."

"P-please...please...please..."

"SILENCE!"

Everyone obeyed. Not even the faintest trace of breathing could be heard.

"You beg for clemency, and I, your merciful lord, shall give it to you."

"Thank you my lord, thank you -"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry's eyes snapped open and he bolted upright so quickly that he felt nausea stir in his stomach. He gripped his head in his hands.

His skin was on fire, but it was not a painful fire – it was the fervent caress of dark magic. He was light-headed, breathing heavily, and excited. And he hated it.

He grit his teeth, willing himself to calm down. He didn't enjoy that. He definitely didn't enjoy that.

Delusion is a sign of insanity, Harry.

He could hear the humour in Tom's voice.

"Shut up, Tom," he hissed furiously, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that shot through his forehead.

He glanced out the window – it was still dark out, but he could see a faint grey glow on the eastern horizon, soft and barely there. What day was it again? Uncle Vernon had locked him in his bedroom for three days following his visit with Hermione, which was on the 23rd, and this had forced him to switch to his nocturnal schedule (in which he would unlock his doors long after the Dursleys were asleep and go about making his meals and stretching his legs). Then he'd spent the next three days pulling weeds and chatting with garden snakes, forcing him out of his nocturnal schedule again. He tracked dirt in the house accidentally (no, really, it had nothing to do with the fact that he was tired and wanted some extra time to do his potions readings), so he'd been locked in his bedroom again for a day, but he had yet to change his schedule around so...

Was it August already?

No, it had to be...

Happy Birthday, Harry

Tom's voice was malicious now, mocking, and Harry could sense the vindictiveness in it. He shivered, and he felt Tom's satisfaction at his discomfort.

....

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