Dark Lord's Pet

Looking the Part

Harry

Harry was jostled to attention by a black-shoed foot poking him in the back. He rolled over immediately, going to a half-seated position and about to jump to his feet, ready to do whatever his uncle ordered. When he saw who nudged him, and was recalled to the situation, a bright flush entered his cheeks, and he tucked his legs to try and lessen his embarrassment.

Apparently against this plan and determined to become even more an obvious enemy to Harry, Voldemort grasped him around the left bicep and hauled him, skinny and in stark contrast, very short, to his feet. He did it as easily as one picking up a cat, and Harry moved his hand to cover himself. At least this would be over soon though. Voldemort didn't seem the type for patience.

With Harry's bicep still firmly in the Dark Lord's grasp, the red-eyed man used his other hand to retrieve his wand. The wand was different than the one he'd used in the graveyard, black wood polished so well it glinted like metal in the light. 

With articulate grace, Voldemort swished his wand, said a few words Harry couldn't distinguish, and conjured. . . something. Whatever it was, it was beyond his line of sight. Somewhat nervous, though he didn't know why, Harry fixed his wide green eyes to the slitted red ones above him. They were crimson, and shone like rubies under the sun. Harry gulped, and wondered what was going to happen to him.

"Put it on," Voldemort said, an odd glint in his eyes.

A parcel was placed in his hand, and he had to move it so it didn't just drop to the ground, leaving himself exposed once again. The grip on his bicep loosened, the released. Harry shook out the cloth, finding it was. . . pajamas? 

Kid's pajamas. A black footsie with a cat eared hood, to be specific. It didn't really make sense why Voldemort was insisting on it, but Harry dutifully did as ordered.

Properly covered, Harry felt relieved, and let out a soft, quiet breath, the flush in his cheeks ebbing somewhat. Then, the Dark Lord reached out, faster than Harry could see, and tightened something around his neck. 

Harry smiled and closed his eyes, sure that this was it. The man who'd been trying to kill him all his life would finally end it for him.

When instead of the scene playing out as he had expected it to, and whatever it was was merely tightened enough to be flush with his skin, he blinked up at the man before him, eyes nearly watering. It was a cruel man who would do something like this.

Harry took a step back, feeling the hard clench of betrayal in his throat. Again, Voldemort's hands reached out, and again his spirits lifted, perhaps he'd finish it now! But no. All the man did was tug the hood with cat ears up so they rested atop his head. The loathesome man then reached out with a leash, and attached it with a soft clip to what surely must be a collar around his throat.

He was truly the Dark Lord's pet.