Dark Lord's Pet

Voldemort

With anticipation a coiled knot in his stomach, he flicked the dungeon lights on. Hopefully, the Harry of last night would be replaced with the stubborn, annoying, rebellious teenager that he'd felt a burning hatred for since before he was even capable of speech. Even as a baby, there had been something in the child, a strength that he loathed with a fiery passion. He'd kill Harry in order to never be defeated himself, that had always been the plan.

Voldemort made quick work of the stairs, eager to see the teen destined to destroy him. He turned the corner, and peered into the cell where an emaciated, pale-faced child with pink cheeks and a red nose sat with watering eyes. 

His black hair and brows contrasted starkly with his otherwise ghostly skin, and he noted how Harry sat, defeated posture with his shoulders up at his ears, his stick thin arms holding tight over his knees. It made Voldemort see him as a helpless child, or perhaps a pet. Though not like Nagini, who was also deadly, but like a bunny one would dress in cute outfits to show off.

A plan was formulating in his mind, completely without his permission. Perhaps he could keep Harry as a pet. He could show off his defeat of Potter, nurse him back to health, and then set him free, a rebellious brat he'd be able to murder happily, rather than the more execution style kill of what was an unexciting lump of a boy.

And anyways, he still had to hunt down, torture and finally kill whoever had hurt Harry. It was a situation to make an example of, no one was allowed to hurt something that the Dark Lord claimed as his own.

His red, snakelike eyes narrowed on Harry as he used his wand to unlock the cell door, making it swing wide open. He approached Harry, his steps clacking in a measured cadence against the stone floor. As he drew nearer, Harry ducked his head further, tears glistening down his cheeks, and was trembling violently by the time Voldemort stood directly before him.

Stooping elegantly, Voldemort drew Harry up into his arms and said, "Well, kitten, I suppose this marks your first day as the Dark Lord's pet."

He rose, a far too light Harry trembling in the crook of his arms. Well, at least he knew what he needed to do first.