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Barty's New Master

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Stupid Artemis the Dementor thought she was a Mind-Healer. Just because she's the one Dementor Barty knew of who could actually see, just because he and Sirius owed her bigtime for keeping their animagus ability a secret throughout their stint in Azkaban, just because she had left Azkaban once Barty and Sirius were freed and joined the Dark Lord once He returned- enjoying the constant drama among the Death Eaters- didn't give her the right to psychoanalyze him.

Now that Barty wasn't a prisoner being guarded by Dementors, he quite enjoyed getting together with Artemis for a cup of tea and a gossip (it paid to be buddies with a Dark creature who could read minds and was nosy enough to enjoy it). Not that Artemis spoke English, or any human tongue. But she hissed and rattled in such a way that Barty was able to get the gist of what she was saying.

Lately, she was insisting that his inability to "take it to the next level" (whatever that meant) with Sirius was due to Barty having "Daddy Issues." The whole thing was ridiculous. He had left his worthless father behind when he took the Dark Mark. The Dark Lord was like a father to him. That was all the "daddy" he needed, thank you very much. But Artemis always let out her strange, hissing laugh when he said this.

The Dark Lord had replaced his worthless biological father as a paternal figure, but he was (temporarily) vanquished all too soon. When Harry came to him in Azkaban, Barty had to leave off being a child in order to become a parent. By the time Harry managed to wield enough influence with the Purebloods running the Ministry to get Barty and Sirius released, Harry was in his third year at Hogwarts- away for most of the year and too old to need him like his lamby used to. Barty found himself adrift. He searched for the Dark Lord (in between sending Harry daily care packages and teaming up with Sirius to foil Artemis the Dementor's attempts to fix up Barty and Sirius in an increasingly ridiculous series of events that, ironically, brought the two closer together), but without any leads, he found himself losing hope.

Then, the Dark Lord came to him, a shadow of his former self. Voldemort had been confused at first by Barty's joyful, babbled praise of the boy he had raised in Azkaban. The streams of gratitude for allowing him to raise his Prince. The neverending collection of pictures chronicling Harry's life from three to eleven years the man carried around in his magically bottomless wallet. Then, the Dark Lord caught sight of the lightning-shaped scar on the forehead of a six year old boy riding his first real broomstick (Not that he needed a broomstick, Barty had reassured his Lord. He could fly on his own without a spell or broom. Such a clever, powerful boy. But Harry had wanted a real broomstick, not a toy one, for his birthday, and his Little Prince was denied nothing.) "Harry Potter!" The Dark Lord screamed in fury, interrupting Barty's cooing over how much the boy had grown. Only the fact that he was currently the size of an infant and couldn't carry a wand, muchless cast a spell, kept him from killing the foolishly doting parent where he knelt before the Dark Lord's chair.

"Y-yes, My Lord," Barty had stuttered, wary of the death glare on the infant's face. It was the sort of look Harry used to get when he didn't want to go to bed. A tantrum was imminent.

"Why have you not killed him yet?" asked the high, cold voice.

"Kill him?" said Barty, puzzled. "Why would I do that? I tried to give him time out once when he was three after he set my favorite robes on fire, but I couldn't bear to punish my lamby. Anyway, the time out was upsetting him and causing his accidental magic to go haywire, which resulted in more things catching on fire. Everybody knows that starting fires at a young age is a sign of a powerful Dark Wizard in the making, so I baked a chocolate cake to celebrate..."

Voldemort's expression calmed and his voice turned thoughtful. "Perhaps he can help me..." The Dark Lord smirked, a thin, vicious thing, very different from Harry and Barty's manic grins and Sirius' easy smiles. "I'll need his blood. Barty, how'd you like to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts next year?"

"I'd love to, My Lord," Barty breathed. To get to see his Little Prince every single day without being stuck in Azkaban... "But Dumbledore would never trust me, even after I've been freed. He's already selected that crazy Auror Moody for the positon."

"Barty, nothing is final until you're dead. And Lord Voldemort will never die. Brew a supply of Polyjuice Potion, then go to Moody's house. You'll never be able to catch that paranoid Blood Traitor unawares, but break in just before dawn, and you'll be able to subdue him and drink the Polyjuice before the Ministry arrives to investigate."

The Dark Lord had risen again according to plan at the end of the school year, using Harry's blood. Barty enjoyed the proudest moment of his life kneeling at Voldemort's feet while the Dark Lord embraced Harry.

Three years passed, and the Dark Lord declared victory over the Wizarding World. Dumbledore fell. Hogwarts was taken over. Barty and Sirius began an on-again-off-again relationship, to Artemis' squealing delight.

"You've had a wild night," a voice hissed from somewhere in Barty's room as he sat down, injured and exhausted, on his bed. At some point, the voice had started making Barty's face flush and his heart race. Increased exposure hadn't stopped this reaction, only enhanced it.

"My Lord," Barty murmured, sliding off the bed and dropping to his knees. He didn't know where his Prince's voice had come from, only that Harry was somewhere in the room. He inhaled sharply, the sudden movement aggravating the deep gash on his left thigh. Still, he knelt, head bowed, eyes closed against the pain. His Lord appeared at his left side, inspecting the leg. The young man known to the world as Harry Potter helped Barty to his feet and laid him in bed, hissing in Parseltongue all the while to help steady Barty and staunch the flow of blood.

Barty bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain as Harry sterilized the wound with a wave of his wand and closed it. Then, relief filled him as the pain faded away, leaving behind a thin scar that appeared to be several weeks old. Barty felt something else he couldn't describe filling him as Harry bent down and pressed a kiss to the scar. "Thank you, My Lord," Barty said hoarsely.

Harry favored him with a manic grin so similar to Barty's own. "You used to heal me all the time when I was your 'lamby,'" he pointed out.

Barty smiled fondly up at his Prince. Despite how much Harry had grown, how much power he had amassed, something in those green eyes made him remember the sweet, innocent child he had raised. "It was my pleasure, My Lord."

"You and Sirius were dueling again, weren't you? Don't try to deny it; I just finished reattaching his leg. Really, the two of you! One minute, it's candlelit dinners and humping like teenage hippogriffs, and the next you're dueling to the death."

"I'm sorry, My Lord," said Barty, lowering his eyes. He knew how much it meant to his Prince that the three members of their little family get along. They were each all the other two had for so long. Both men were united in their love of Harry. Sirius had gone to the Dark Side for Harry's sake. Barty kept himself from killing everyone he saw the moment he was given a wand again for the sake of his Little Prince. That didn't stop fights from breaking out occasionally. Or more than occasionally. Well, nearly every day, if Barty was honest with himself. But when he and Sirius got along, they really got along.

"Amputation, Barty? Really, what's gotten into you?" Harry asked.

How strange that Barty had asked that question of a younger Harry a thousand times, back when the Dark Lord's heir was a child who would splash multicolored paint out of nowhere all over the cell Barty had just cleaned or wandlessly set something on fire. He never punished his Little Prince, of course. The chaos he caused was a sign of a magically powerful child. Unlike those filthy Muggles, he and Sirius nurtured Harry's gifts. It was well worth it. Harry had grown into a powerful Wizard, standing at the Dark Lord's side, leading the Death Eaters to victory after victory.

Judging by the way Harry's smiles and touches affected him nowadays, it appeared that Harry had picked up on a different kind of power from his dates with the Malfoy spawn.

Barty had always hated Draco Malfoy. He was a weakling, not fit to stand by his Prince's side. Barty bit his tongue and refrained from shooting hexes as Harry enjoyed the Malfoy boy's attentions. Even as that damnable Lucius Malfoy smirked at the sight of his son and the Dark Lord's heir together. Their eventual breakup appeared amicable enough, as if they simply lost interest in each other. Barty could understand Harry growing bored of Draco, but he couldn't comprehend the Malfoy spawn not wanting to spend every waking moment with Harry.

He channeled his confusion and outrage into turning Malfoy into a ferret and letting the rodent run around the Manor for a few hours, randomly setting up invisible barriers to prevent Malfoy from getting too far away. Watching Draco Malfoy the Ferret run into imaginary walls and fall backwards, then scurry in the opposite direction was also pretty fun. It was a shame that the Dark Lord had forbidden him from killing the other Death Eaters ever since the Fenir Greyback Incident. Barty privately felt that it served Greyback right. Ally of the Dark Lord or not, Barty hated the predatory way Greyback always looked at Harry. And it was rather funny, in a macabre kind of way, for a werewolf to be both clawless and toothless upon his death. Barty also enjoyed the way Greyback's head and all four legs were completely detatched from his body.

After Malfoy the Ferret had run around for about two hours against the backdrop of Barty's manic laughter, Harry strolled down the stairs, freshly showered. "Hi, Draco!" he said brightly to the terrified ferret. "You should probably get going soon. Isn't Astoria expecting you?" The ferret tried to run as far away from the staircase as he could get. He made it a few feet before Barty raised another invisible wall, and the rodent went crashing into it.

Harry turned his attention to the grinning madman casting the spells. He put one hand on Barty's left shoulder and the other on the wand Barty held in his right hand. Barty felt a warm, tingly feeling run through his body at Harry's touch. "Good evening, Barty," Harry breathed in Barty's ear.

Barty stifled a gasp as he felt Harry's lips brush against the ridge of his ear. "Good evening, M'Lord." His voice faltered as the arm Harry had wrapped around Barty's shoulders pulled him closer. He didn't resist- couldn't resist- as Harry wordlessly guided his wand hand to cast the countercurse, turning Malfoy back into a human. Malfoy fled in terror while Harry turned to face Barty, removing his arms from Barty's shoulders but keeping hold of Barty's hand.

"Are you going to do that to every guy I break up with?" Harry asked.

"Only the ones that didn't treat you right," Barty responded. "He was never worthy of you."

"Draco treated me great," Harry protested. He let go of Barty's hand and snaked his arm around Barty's waist, pulling him in until the two were almost nose-to-nose. Harry gave a wild, manic grin so similar to Barty's own. "He did absolutely everything I wanted." He stepped back, causing Barty to stumble forward slightly before he caught himself. "We just didn't love each other is all."

Harry leaned forward again and gave Barty a light peck on the lips. "Sirius is looking for you. He wants to have angry sex, or make up sex, or possibly both. I can never keep track with you two." His Lord turned on his heel, robes whipping across Barty's calves- and even that touch caused his pulse to quicken. "I'll be out late tonight!" he tossed over his shoulder as he hurried out. "Don't wait up!"

Harry climbed onto the bed and knelt over Barty, knees on either side of Barty's hips. This led to an embarrassing reaction that he prayed His Lord couldn't feel. Barty licked his lips.

"You know, an amputation caused by a misaimed Castration Curse is a lot harder to heal than an Amputation Jinx. More vicious than what the pair of you usually do to each other, too. What's this latest spat about?"

"He thinks I'm in love with someone else," Barty ground out reluctantly. He avoided his Lord's eyes.

"Sirius screws anything that moves. Why would he care?"

Barty didn't respond.

"Sirius Black- the Lady Killer in Love. Who would have guessed he'd be ready to settle down? Well, you two already have the kid. Now you just need a dog and a white picket fence. So, when's the wedding?"

Barty swallowed. "Do you want us to be together? Me and Sirius?" he asked. They had raised Harry together, after all. They had spent almost a decade as the only somewhat sane adult in each other's life, before the Hogwarts letters found Harry in Azkaban and Harry fought for the release of the two men who had taken such good care of him when he was a vulnerable child. Years of working, sharing, and fighting. The two had shared something that could never be replicated with another person, which kept drawing them back together, despite their numerous disagreements. Barty even loved Sirius. But Sirius wasn't his soulmate. Still, if it made his Prince happy to see Barty and Sirius together, they could make up yet again, and Barty could keep them together forever this time, if that was what Harry wanted. Blow Sirius whenever he felt like arguing with him, let him be on top all the time, treat him like... well... His Prince.

"Not if you're in love with someone else," said Harry. He cut Barty off before he could deny it. "And I know you are." He held Barty's face in his hands. "Who could the lucky man be?" Harry wondered aloud.

Harry ran his thumb across Barty's bottom lip, causing Barty's breathing to quicken. "Is it Lucius Malfoy?" he asked with a teasing grin.

"I think Narcissa would castrate me," said Barty wryly. "And she wouldn't miss."

Harry took his left hand off of Barty's face and used it to cup Barty's balls. He squeezed them gently, as if checking to make sure they were still there. At the same time, he put his right hand on Barty's left chest, feeling the man's rapid heartbeat. Barty couldn't stop a longing moan from escaping.

Harry smiled, his green eyes alight with mischief. "Not Lucius then," he said.

To Barty's relief and disappointment, Harry removed his hand from Barty's balls and placed it on Barty's right pectoral. These mixed feelings gave way to unadulterated lust as Harry shifted position, accidentally-on-purpose brushing his buttocks against Barty's erection, causing Barty to inhale sharply and bite his lip. Harry took a moment to admire the man lying on his back underneath him. Despite the fact that Barty's pupils were dilated with lust and his erection was poking Harry's ass, the man's expression was one of respect. Despite being teased by Harry, his hands didn't grope Harry's body-not yet anyway. He wasn't a horny, unrestrained dog, but a perfect Pureblood Death Eater awaiting His Lord's command. No reason Barty can't be both, Harry thought.

Harry shifted his weight so he was no longer kneeling over Barty but sitting on Barty's hips, his weight pressing against Barty's erection. Barty shifted in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his arousal, certain that his filthy urges were unworthy of his Young Lord. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he started having sexual feelings towards Harry. He had raised him from the time he was a three year-old abused by Muggles- changing diapers, giving him baths, toilet training him, and giving him all the love and attention the Dark Lord's Prince deserved. In the time Barty was caring for Harry, he had never experienced anything remotely sexual towards his Young Lord. But, somewhere along the line, after Harry had grown into the Dark Prince Barty always knew he could be, Barty began to fall deeper and deeper into Harry's thrall.

Harry gave Barty the angelic smile that he had perfected by the time he was five. It had never failed to wrap Barty even more tightly around his finger. Barty smiled back, eyes glazing over with lust and adoration. The lust hadn't been there when Harry was a child, but the utter adoration certainly had been.

"Could it be... The Dark Lord?" Harry asked, wiggling his hips as if trying to find a comfortable position. In reality, he was more comfortable than he had ever been in his life, but he found it was fun to tease Barty.

"No!" Barty cried hoarsely, a mixture of arousal, pain, and fear taking his breath away. "I mean, yes, I adore My Lord!" Barty backpedaled furiously. "The Dark Lord comes first, always! But I'm his servant, not his lover. I mean, he's never requested my services as-"

Barty was cut off by Harry's chuckling. It seemed his Prince had finally found a comfortable position on Barty's hips. Harry sat right on top of Barty's erection, leaning back against his hands, which were now resting on Barty's knees. Harry's legs were splayed out so that his boots rested on Barty's shoulders, one foot on each side of Barty's head. Barty could smell the dragon leather and the small amount of dirt caked into the treads at the bottom of Harry's boots. He glanced up to see that Harry had his eyes closed, utterly relaxed, as if he was reclining on a sofa, rather than Barty. Barty's memories of teaching a younger Harry how to lace up a much smaller pair of dragon-hide boots and cuddling the child version of his Prince somehow only increased his excitement. Bizarrely, he found himself tempted to look up Harry's robes, peering between his Prince's slightly spread legs. He felt his whole body heating up at the thought. Never able to resist anything involving Harry- from young Harry's requests for a chocolate palace to his own lust for the seventeen year-old Prince- Barty snuck a peek through the gap between Harry's boots. He saw only a flash of slender, yet well-muscled calves.

Harry, giving no sign that he noticed Barty's erection poking into him, brought Barty back to Earth with the first of many orders he would give tonight. He gave both of Barty's knees gentle slaps and said, "Let's see how your leg's doing. Bend your knees for me."

Barty bent his knees up until Harry said, "Mmmm... perfect." Harry leaned back against Barty's thighs, his tight ass still on Barty's erection and boots still splayed out on either side of Barty's face.

"Your leg seems strong enough," said Harry, deliberately putting more weight on Barty's left thigh. As if by accident, Harry's boots pressed down on Barty's face, the heels pushing firmly against Barty's slightly parted lips, Barty's nose caught between the arches of both boots, and the balls of Harry's feet covering Barty's eyes.

Barty tried to respond in a way that conveyed agreement and gratitude but came out sounding like a muffled moan. His lips rubbed against the bottom of Harry's boot as he tried to speak. "Shhh... shhh," Harry shushed him, grinding the heel of his left boot against Barty's lips. Barty's mind flashed back to the nights where he would shush Harry in the same way when he was lulling his Little Prince to sleep at the end of a long day. He felt a sense of indescribable peace knowing that Harry was now the one in control. It was as if the world had been upside down for so long and finally righted itself. Barty obediently shut his mouth.

"It's more comfortable when you keep your mouth open," Harry told him. "Just don't make noise. I'm trying to get some peace and quiet."

Barty parted his lips slightly. "Wider," Harry ordered, forcing the heel of his left boot into Barty's mouth. Barty opened his mouth to accomodate his Lord's boot. "There's still something missing," Harry mused. Barty looked up at his Master in silent panic. He'd been trying so hard to be perfect for Harry. Harry only chuckled and used his right foot to gently, affectionately stroke Barty's cheek before crossing his right ankle over his left knee.

"My boots must be filthy," said Harry quietly, pushing his left foot more firmly against Barty's face as if to emphasize his point. "I've been out in the hot sun, training the new recruits all day. But I don't want to sacrifice our privacy by calling a House-Elf just when I've finally gotten comfortable. Clean them for me, please, Barty."

Barty silently drew his wand, prepared to cast a Cleaning Charm, when Harry kicked it away. "Not like that," he said. "Put your wand away, and keep your hands at your sides." Barty slipped his wand back into his pocket, accidentally brushing his hand against Harry's thigh. Barty longed to massage that thigh, followed by the rest of his Lord's body, then suck him off, and then... "Stick out your tongue." Harry's next order cut through Barty's pleasant daydream.

Barty immediately complied, and Harry forced the heel of his left boot into Barty's mouth as far as it would go. The back of Harry's boot rested on Barty's outstretched tongue. "Start licking," said Harry.

Barty ran his tongue from side to side until the back of Harry's boot was moist with saliva. At the same time, he sucked hungrily on the heel in his mouth. Harry ran his boot from heel to toe along Barty's outstretched tongue. "Draco never liked for me to give the House Elves the night off," said Harry conversationally, as he ran his boot back and forth along Barty's tongue as if wiping his foot on a doormat. "He grew up around them; got used to having his privacy invaded by little green, pointy-eared creatures. Hell, there was probably one hanging about on the night he was conceived. But, I've gotten used to having a proper Wizard taking care of me." He paused, and for a few minutes, the only sound was Barty kissing, licking, and sucking Harry's boots clean. "Although, I'm not sure I like the idea of you loving anyone more than you love me."

Barty wasn't sure if he was supposed to, or even allowed to, respond. Fortunately, Harry settled the question by grinding the bottom of his boot against Barty's tongue, making speech impossible. From Azkaban, to tonight in Barty's bedchamber, Harry had always made Barty's life simpler and easier to understand. He only had one goal- to please his Young Lord. When Harry had been younger, this was accomplished with chocolate palaces, cuddles, and cursing his awful Muggle relatives. Now that Harry was older, this took the form of killing said Muggle relatives (So satisfying to finally be able to end their miserable lives on his Prince's command) and licking Harry's boots until Harry was convinced that Barty adored him above all else. That settled, Barty focused every fiber of his being on licking and sucking on every inch of boot that Harry put within reach of his willing mouth.

When Harry was satisfied that Barty had thoroughly licked the bottom and sides of his boot, he pulled it away, wiping it on the front of Barty's robe. Barty brought his head up, following the boot with a longing look in his eyes. Harry pressed his boot firmly onto the middle of Barty's chest, keeping it out of Barty's reach and preventing Barty from sitting up.

"Please, Master," Barty whimpered before he could stop himself. How could he prove his love without worshiping his Prince's boots the way Harry wanted? He had only been licking Harry's boot for a few minutes, but he already felt incomplete without the reassuring weight of Harry's dragonhide boot on his face.

Harry stared, stormy-faced, down at him, still sitting on Barty's rock-hard cock. Barty realized his mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He brought a hand to his mouth and stared up at Harry, eyes wide and panicked. To Barty's (somewhat twisted) mind, he had kept the promise he had made to Sirius back when Harry was small and had refrained from turning the child evil. However, there was no denying that Harry could be cruel. Barty wanted to apologize, but he didn't dare speak again.

Harry shifted positions, lifting his ass off of Barty's cock (to Barty's mingled relief and disappointment) and kneeling on his left knee. This required planting his left knee on Barty's chest and grinding the toes of his newly-cleaned left boot onto Barty's genitals. Barty bit his lip, stifling his whimpers as Harry's boot pushed harder against his balls. Harry moved his right boot up to rest beside Barty's head. Harry's angry expression turned to one of amusement as Barty quickly turned his head and began kissing and licking every part of the boot he could reach.

Harry sighed contentedly, pushing Barty's face until it was pressed firmly against his boot and carding a hand through the man's shaggy, straw-colored hair. The room was silent except for Barty's enthusiastic kisses and ragged breathing.

"I'll have to make sure to keep your mouth full to keep you from talking out of turn again, won't I?" Harry asked sweetly.

Barty nodded enthusiastically, not pausing in his worship. He alternated long, slow strokes of his tongue with short, rapid flicks, determined to remove any trace of dirt from Harry's dragonhide boots. Harry forced the toe of his boot into Barty's mouth as far back as it would go. Barty stretched his mouth open and stuck out his tongue, accomodating as much of the saliva slicked leather as he could. Harry thrust the boot in and out of Barty's mouth. Barty focused on making his warm, wet mouth as welcoming as possible, sucking and swirling his tongue around on every inch of leather his Master forced in his mouth.

After a few minutes of progressively harder and faster thrusts, Harry pulled his boot out and got off Barty, sitting on the edge of the bed. He gazed at Barty's red face, mussed hair, and chapped lips and ran a hand along Barty's left thigh. "Do you feel good enough to kneel?" he asked. At Barty's nod, Harry simply pointed at his feet tapping on the bedroom floor.

Barty quickly and silently dropped to his knees before Harry. Harry grabbed the back of Barty's head and pushed until Barty was on all fours in front of him. Barty immediately got to work, covering Harry's boots with passionate kisses and sweet little licks. "That's way too much slobber on my boots," said Harry, inspecting them. "Get rid of it for me." Barty hurriedly sucked up the excess saliva, leaving behind a perfectly tongue-polished pair of boots. When Harry tired of this, he yanked on Barty's hair, bringing him back up to a kneeling position.

Harry stood up so that Barty was eye level with his crotch. Harry quickly pulled off his robes, and, Sweet Merlin, his Prince had gone commando.

"Strip," Harry commanded.

Barty, still on his knees, fumbled with his robes and pulled down his boxers, freeing his erection, already leaking precum. Harry gently wiped away Barty's precum with his index finger, then brought his hand to Barty's lips. Barty obediently parted his lips and sucked his own juices from his Master's finger. Even after he had licked up every drop, Barty continued sucking while gazing fixedly at Harry's erection.

Harry pulled his finger out of Barty's mouth and went back to running his hand through Barty's untidy blond locks. Harry gripped his hard cock with his other hand and used it to slap both of Barty's cheeks. Barty kept his lips parted, ready to welcome his Master's hard dick into his willing mouth. However, Harry pulled his cock away and yanked on Barty's hair, tilting Barty's head up to meet his green eyes.

"Should I let you suck my dick?" Harry asked sweetly, as if offering a treat to a small child. "Should I shove my prick down your slutty throat and make you lick my sweaty balls clean like you cleaned my boots?"

Barty nodded wildly, feeling his hair being pulled by Harry's tight, unmoving grip on his blond locks. Harry looked down at his servant kneeling before him, prevented from crashing to all fours only by the iron grip Harry had on Barty's hair. He silently considered Barty for a moment, while Barty panted with lust and excitement. His perfect Pureblood Death Eater salivating over the Half-Blood ward he had raised.

"I want to hear you beg for it," said Harry.

"Please, My Master, please," Barty whimpered. "Let me worship your cock. I can make you feel so good."

"I already feel good, seeing you kneeling before me, debasing yourself like my little slaveboy. The Dark Lord's servant, but my slave. You'll kiss the hem of his robes, but you'll lick my boots. My slave, and mine alone," said Harry, slowly rubbing his own cock. "Not even the Dark Lord gets to see you looking this pathetic, does he?"

"No, My Lord. I mean, yes, My Lord. I'm your slave, only yours."

"In that case, I never want to hear you call me 'My Lord' again," said Harry. "Got it? That's what you call the Dark Lord. And you're never to call Him 'Master' again. I'm your Master, nobody else. Understand?"

"Yes, Master. Please, Master..."

Harry guided the head of his dick to Barty's lips. Resisting the urge to shove it into Barty's mouth right away, Harry ran the tip of his penis against Barty's lips, applying his precum like lipstick. Barty slowly licked his lips, savoring the salty taste of his Master's fluids.

"Stick out your tongue," Harry ordered.

Barty opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue as far as it would go in preparation for his Master's cock. However, Harry merely wiped the head of his cock against Barty's tongue, cleaning off the last bit of precum. Barty frantically grabbed his own dick and rubbed it furiously, desparate for relief. Harry's booted foot came up and kicked Barty's hands off his dick, brushing against his hardened cock. "I own you," he told Barty. "Your dick, along with the rest of you, is my property. You don't touch my property unless I give you permission. Clear?"

"Yes, Master," Barty gasped, pain and arousal at war in his brain.

"Good boy. Now tell me what you think of my dick."

Barty gazed adoringly at the long, thick cock standing erect right in front of his face. "It's beautiful, Master," said Barty. "It's the most powerful-looking dick I've ever seen. I want to worship and honor it as a part of you. I want to suck it until I choke on your seed; I want it to fuck me until it splits my ass in two."

"Mmm." Harry stared down at Barty as if trying to make up his mind. He stroked his cock faster, while Barty whimpered, collapsing weak-kneed onto all fours in front of his Master. "What would you do for the honor of worshiping my cock?"

"Anything. Everything. Please, Master," Barty sobbed.

"Did I tell you to get on all fours?" Harry asked, glaring down at Barty.

"No, Master. Sorry, Master," Barty panted. He stumbled, too weak with lust to pull himself back onto his knees. Before Barty knew what he was doing, he found himself grabbing his Master's thighs to help him balance as he brought himself back up to a kneeling position. Barty looked up at Master Harry fearfully, not sure how he would react to being touched without permission. Harry responded by shoving his dick into Barty's willing mouth.

Harry held the back of Barty's head with both hands and thrust his dick fast and deep down Barty's throat. Ignoring the gagging coming from his slave, Harry moaned, "Call me Master again."

"Mmmph... Maf-er," Barty choked, voice coming out muffled around Harry's thick cock.

Harry thrust his cock, if possible, even more deeply down Barty's throat. His voice went poisonously sweet. "Barty, when I let you talk, I need to be able to understand you. Enunciate." The last word was hissed out in an accent eerily reminiscent of Parseltongue. Barty shivered, unconsciously shifting closer to his Master for comfort.

Harry stroked Barty's hair soothingly while jamming his dick forcefully down Barty's throat. "I gave you an order, Barty," Harry reminded him gently.

"Master! Master!" Barty tried to cry out while licking the underside of Harry's dick and sucking Harry's cock for all he was worth. All that came out was a wordless moan.

Harry's cock spasmed from a combination of Barty's ministrations and the humming in Barty's throat as he tried to speak. But he wasn't ready to finish yet. He abruptly pulled his cock out of Barty's mouth. Barty let out a piteous moan at being denied Harry's prick. "Shut up. I gave you two chances to speak properly in my presence. You disobeyed me both times. Now I want a silent slave." Harry gave Barty's face a harsh slap, leaving a red handprint on his left cheek. Barty bit his lip, eyes filling with tears. But he silently kissed and licked the back of Harry's hand, which was still rosy and warm from smacking Barty seconds ago. Thinking nothing of his own pain, Barty lapped at Harry's slightly sore hand like a puppy, focused entirely on his Master's comfort. Harry smiled indulgently down at him. "There's my good slaveboy," he crooned.

Harry allowed for a moment of worshipful kisses and licks before pulling his hand away and wiping the excess saliva off on Barty's hair. "It's nice to know your mouth is good for something. Although we do need to work on the slobbering." Barty's entire body stiffened, expecting punishment. Harry ran his fingers through Barty's hair. Despite his fear, Barty leaned into the touch.

Harry pulled his straw-colored locks while Barty bit back a cry of pain. "Really, Barty, baby talk and slobbering. I expected better out of a slave. Perhaps I should reconsider being your Master."

Instantly, silent tears ran down Barty's face as he wept at the thought of losing Master Harry, reminding himself of a devoted House-Elf being presented with clothes. When they had lived in Azkaban, Barty had soothed all of Harry's bouts of childish tears with cuddles, gifts, and promises of his imminent Princehood, ruling at the Dark Lord's side. Right now, however, Barty's tears got him yanked forward until he was on all fours in front of Harry. Barty tried to get his crying under control, but a few tears dropped, landing on Harry's freshly-cleaned boots.

Harry raised first one boot, then the other to Barty's lips, silently commanding him to lick off the teardrops. Barty put everything he had into giving Harry's boots the perfect tongue-shining, hoping that it would convince Harry to keep him as a slave. Barty waited anxiously as Harry silently inspected his freshly-licked boots. "Still too much slobber," Harry pronounced, bringing on a fresh round of silent tears from Barty. "Baby-talk, drooling, and crying. My dear Barty needs someone to teach him how to be a man." He slipped a finger under Barty's chin and tilted the man's face upwards. Harry leaned down and claimed Barty's lips in a rough, bruising kiss. Barty's mouth opened easily to Harry's tongue.

Harry allowed himself a few moments of enjoying Barty's eager lips and tongue before pulling away, leaving the man panting and gazing adoringly up at Harry. Harry smiled, and this time, it wasn't the manic grin so similar to Barty's that spread across his lips. His smile was thin, snakelike, reminding Barty of the Dark Lord in a good mood. "It looks like that someone is going to have to be me."

Harry cupped Barty's cheeks in his hands. "I'm gonna finish what the Dark Lord started, turning a boy into a man," he whispered. "And you're gonna make it worth my while, aren't you, slaveboy?"

Barty nodded energetically.

"Say 'Yes, Daddy,'" Harry commanded.

"Yes, Daddy!" Barty choked.

"Good boy," Harry cooed, letting go of Barty's cheeks and pushing on the back of his head until his forehead rested on the floor.

Barty heard Harry's dragon-hide boots walk around him, then felt Harry's rough, callused hands on his ass. Harry pushed on Barty's lower back. "Arch your back and bring your ass up for Daddy," he said.

Barty instantly obeyed, and Harry rewarded him by slipping a hand through Barty's thighs and fondling his hard cock and full balls from behind. Barty let out a longing moan. A stinging slap to his behind cut through his lust. "I want my slaveboy to speak properly and show good manners," said Harry. "When I spank your worthless ass, I want to hear you say 'Thank you, Daddy.' Understand?" Harry squeezed Barty's left buttock, leaving crescent-shaped marks from his nails.

"Yes, Daddy! Thank you, Daddy!" Barty gasped.

"Louder," Harry ordered, landing another smack on Barty's ass.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Barty yelled. Harry smiled, rewarding his slaveboy with a dozen more hard smacks.

Barty lost himself in a cloud of pain, arousal, and gratitude. He had never laid a hand on Harry growing up, but something still felt right about the role reversal. His Little Prince was in charge, and it was Barty's sole job to make him happy. He screamed out his thanks with each smack. When the punishment finally stopped, Barty's voice was hoarse and he could barely keep his ass up.

"Good boy," Harry cooed, rubbing Barty's sore bottom. He conjured lube and rubbed it between the cheeks. "Now Daddy's ready to fuck his slave's sweet little ass."

Barty was ready to cum just from the feel of Harry's fingers rubbing lube in his ass and the thought of his Daddy shoving his dick up there. Harry grabbed hold of Barty's cock and held it tightly, the pain preventing him from orgasming. "My little slaveboy doesn't cum until Daddy says so," he hissed. "Not until after I shoot my load into your slutty little ass and you lick my dick clean."

Barty tensed as Harry stuck a finger up his ass. "Relax, Barty," he said, rubbing Barty's buttocks with his free hand. "Your Master's gonna take good care of you."

He added a second finger, then a third as Barty thrust his ass back and forth, fucking himself on Harry's fingers. Harry's free hand traveled down to Barty's hard dick, which he held in an iron grip, preventing the man from cumming early.

"Ready for Daddy's dick in your ass?" Harry asked. "Ready for your Master to fuck you senseless?"

"Yes, Daddy!" Barty gasped. "Please, Master, can I have your big dick up my ass? I need you to fuck me so bad."

"You need Daddy to fill your slutty hole? Need Daddy use you like a Knockturn Alley whore?"

"Merlin, yes, Daddy! Fuck me, please!" Barty wiggled his ass temptingly, earning himself a swift slap. "Thank you, Daddy!" he remembered to say.

"I have a feeling your ass will be the best toy you ever gave me," Harry chuckled, plunging his dick into Barty's hole.

Barty screamed in pain while Harry's dick thrust in and out of his ass. He stuck his ass out as far as it would go, determined to take as much as his Master's cock as possible. His Daddy's dick was every bit as powerful as he had imagined it would be. Despite the pain, Barty found himself on the edge of cumming before his Master reached around him to grab his dick in an iron grip, preventing Barty from disobeying. Barty had never loved His Prince more than in that moment, when the combined pain from the ass-fucking and Harry's hand on his dick kept him from orgasm. His Master knew exactly what he needed. His Daddy was in charge, as he should be.

Barty was on all fours for long enough for his knees to bruise when, with a loud moan, Harry's cock spasmed and his seed spurted into Barty's willing ass. Harry's grip on Barty's cock tightened until it was like a vice, warning his slaveboy not to cum. He pulled his dick out of Barty's ass with a satisfied grunt, and, once he trusted that Barty wouldn't orgasm, let go of Barty's cock and walked around so that he was standing in front of his new slave.

"Open your mouth," Harry ordered.

Barty immediately obeyed, and Harry thrust his dick down Barty's throat. "Clean me up," he ordered. "And don't slobber all over me this time; otherwise I'll have to give you another spanking."

Aroused and fearful at the idea of being punished by his Master, Barty sucked Harry off with a vigor he had never managed with any of his previous partners. He was careful to suck up any excess saliva left behind by his tongue licking Harry's dick clean. When the salty, sweaty taste of Harry's cum combined with Barty's ass juices was replaced by the taste of flesh, Harry pulled his dick out of Barty's mouth and inspected it. "Good boy," he said, ruffling Barty's hair. "Nice and clean, just the way I like it. Shall I let my slave cum?"

"Please, Master," Barty begged.

"Please what, Barty? Want me to keep you horny until I'm ready to use you again? Keep you wanting?"

"Please, Daddy? May I please cum?" Barty asked.

Harry reached down and stroked Barty's dick. He started out slow but soon quickened his speed. At the same time, he reached back with his other hand and fondled the special spot between Barty's ass and balls. Barty panted like a dog in heat. "Master, please," he begged.

"Cum for Daddy, Barty," Harry hissed.

Barty immediately shot his load, the seed landing on Harry's freshly-cleaned dragonhide boots. Barty, weak-kneed- clung to his Master's legs to prevent himself from collapsing to the floor. Harry, chuckling, stroked Barty's hair affectionately.

After a few minutes, Harry's voice cut through the afterglow. "Clean my boots, Barty,"

As it has always done since the moment Barty made the decision to raise young Harry, the prospect of fulfilling one of Harry's desires energized Barty and sharpened his focus. He immediately dropped down to all fours and began licking his seed off the expensive dragon leather, while Harry cooed compliments about his slave's obedience and tight little ass.

Downstairs, Artemis the Dementor struggled with a quill and reams of parchment. She had been trying her damnedest to write a love story between Barty Crouch Jr. and the Young Lord he had such an obvious crush on. Artemis shook her cloaked head in frustration. The Barty Crouch/Harry Potter ship will never set sail, she thought glumly. She threw down her quill and went off to torment some Muggle prisoners.