Dark Lord's Pet

Recovery

Voldemort

He knew it hadn't been the moral thing to do, knew it, but that didn't stop him. He'd altered the neutralized venom in the boy's system, knowing it wouldn't hurt him, and activated a tracking bisa. A bisa wasn't a spell, wasn't a charm, wasn't even really magic, not after it was created, it was a physiological connection of mental awareness. 

They were technically illegal, but Voldemort was growing nervous with the thought of Harry going off to school. What if his Pet got hurt? He had to be able to locate the child. What if he was in emotional distress? Wouldn't it help to be able to know if he was so he'd be able to kill whomever had caused the problem?

Voldemort wasn't actually fooling himself, though he tried to believe he was. He was starting to care for the kid, more than as a horcrux, more than as a *gag* friend, but as a sort of partner. They were both strong, both against Dumbledore, had been tormented by muggles, and, hopefully with time, he'd get the boy to fully support his reforms. It couldn't possibly hurt to have the "Boy-Who-lived" on his side. It wasn't just about attraction, which he refused to believe he felt for his Pet, at least not until he'd gained some much needed weight, it was the human connection he'd been seeking all his life.

Harry was sleeping in his arms, no stress on his face, just a child resting peacefully. The question, why had he needed to ask that question? But he had, and Harry had answered. The boy had said he trusted Voldemort. How could he? It made no sense. . . made even less sense why he was so happy to have heard it.

Personal boundaries weren't something he was particularly good at, especially when something needed to get done. He set the kid on the kitchen table and began to conjure potions. Nourishment potions, weight gain potions, growth potions, elixirs of health, homeostasis draughts. . . He really hoped Harry wouldn't be too upset when he woke up- 

Wait, scratch that, he prayed to Merlin that Harry would be furious when he woke up. It was just so entertaining. 

The first things he spelled into the boys stomach were the health and homeostasis concoctions, those would make sure Harry stayed safe as Voldemort did something the doctors were certain to not recommend.

As they took effect, a very faint golden glow made a corona around the boys skin, and he began to mix and measure and adjust and give in slow steady doses the other potions. Beneath his hands, Harry began to stir, so Voldemort send a tendril of magic to ensure he did not wake.

Starved, sharp angles began to fill out, muscles built themselves up from nothing, he could sense the bones becoming stronger, the heart muscles gaining strength stolen by the malnourishment. The too-thin arms gradually swelled with first muscle then a thin layer of healthy fat, the legs developing the same way, the black hair became fuller, shinier and softer as the nutrition reached it, his skin became more bronzed and less waxy, nails strengthened and his nailbeds lost the faint blue tinge Voldemort hadn't even noticed was there before.

It took nearly seven hours, seven long, long hours, but Harry had grown four inches and was at last at a healthy weight. He was still slender, lean muscles roping his body, and appeared to have the impossibly fast metabolism generally associated with growing teenage boys. He was, in a word, beautiful.

His cheeks were slightly round, with high cheekbones and an almost square jaw, though there was a gentle softness to it. His skin was perfect, no teenage acne, a faint flush of healthy color to his cheeks, and rosy pink lips, the bottom one more full than the top. His overall physique was excellent as well, and Voldemort felt a pang of loss that the boy hadn't possessed it before. All the potions were able to do was give him the boy that would have been his had Harry been properly nourished. 

He wanted to kill the Dursleys for taking so much away from this chi- this young man, and tear them limb from limb as he listened to them scream. He wanted to break every bone in-

Harry's eyes fluttered open, inky black lashes fuller than before though still short, and those eyes. . .

His eyes glowed like the killing curse, literally glowed, and were so intense with intelligence and concentration that Voldemort wanted to hide them away and never let anyone other than himself see them.

"The fuck?" Harry said muzzily as he sat up on the table.

A/N: TBH, what just happened is my dream. I'm still underweight (I have an ED) but I hate gaining more and just wish that magically it would come back so I didn't have to watch the number get bigger. If it could just happen in a moment that would solve so many problems. . . 

*Wistful sigh*

Also, doctors suck.