I Can Touch You Now

Brief summary: Harry is kidnapped by Voldemort and realizes killing isn't the only thing on the evil wizards mind. He is sexually tortured, and held captive for quite some time. This is not a love story. It is lust, power, and control. Aka the real world. Warnings: Includes sexual content, non con, rape, mild violence, crude language, slash, disturbing chapters, shitty cliff hangers. Time Period: Order of the Phoenix Character pairings: HP/LV Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story, blah blah blah, all that bullshit.


5. The White Room

Voldemort got up and pulled Harry with him by his hair. "You'll be begging for me after this." He said with the same smile that creeped Harry out once more.

"Where are we going?" Asked Harry franticly, all sorts of disturbing torture chambers flew through his mind

Voldemort ignored his question and continued to pull him by the hair out the door and through the corridors. His place reminded Harry a lot of the Malfoy Manor. Same eerie silence and dark gloomy hallways.

They walked in silence, with Harry still hopelessly trying to struggle away. Then they reached a small door which led down a narrow winding stair case.

"Where the hell am I?" Harry resisted as they approached the stairs. They looked as if they where leading down into a bottomless pit; Harry could feel the horror that awaited him.

Voldemort punched him directly in the gutt, knocking the wind out of Harry. "What did I say about speaking to me like that? He growled. Harry felt the familiar swarm of fear sweep over his body, heating his stomach. Voldemort had lost the fake pleasantness, leaving him only with the raw anger that possessed him.

He yanked Harry's arm beside him and started down the stairs. Reluctantly being pulled along, Harry kept glancing upwards seeing the light coming through the door get smaller and smaller. It was then completely out of sight as they reached the bottom of the never ending stair case.

With a wave of his wand, the small door in front of them unlocked and opened. Inside it was completely white. Harry couldn't distinct walls or even a floor on the room.

"I think you'll be enjoying your stay here, Pet." Said Voldemort returning with his obviously false pleasantness. In one fluid motion, he shoved the boy into the room. He slammed the door behind him, leaving Harry alone.

He got another swish of fear, for realizing Voldemort himself didn't even set a foot in the room.

At first, Harry started thinking he was in a dream. The room was not soft, and not hard like cement. All Harry could tell was that it was white. He couldn't see anything beyond that, and couldn't feel the floor yet he wasn't falling.

He started walking a ways, with his arms out afraid he would run into a wall. He walked forwards for about a minute, and then turned around to face the direction of the door.

He screamed.

The door was directly behind him, as it was when he first entered the room. In reality, the gray door should look distant, because he walked away from it. But it didn't. It was as if he never walked at all.

Harry hit the floor with his fists. It was like punching air. He didn't understand; he had to be on something solid- and why did it look like he never took a step away from the door? All he could see was white, and could smell nothing, feel nothing. His senses where useless in this room.


Little did Harry know that Voldemort could see what he was doing in the room. He was so fascinated on the boys numerous attempts to feel something. Anything. 'Oh he'll feel something when he's done with this room. He will crave a touch. Any touch. My touch.' Voldemort thought.

He could see the Boy Who Lived To Be A Pain In His Neck Who Happened To Be Very Attractive bang his head around trying to feel the nothingness of the walls. He could see the growing agony in his Pets eyes as he started to lose his mind a bit.


Harry felt like he had been in that horrid, mind fucking room for days. He tried to sleep, but couldn't. He couldn't stand not feeling. He wished there was something else in the room, something else that was a real thing. Something that could be touched. Something that was real.

He started clawing at his arms and chest, drawing blood from his own skin. Tearing the flesh away. Ripping out the hairs on his arms and legs. Harry wished he thought of this idea sooner.

He never thought pain could feel so good.

He was crying; partly from the pain of the self destruction, and partly from the joy that he had of finally feeling. Scratch after scratch, punch after punch. He was almost laughing. He could feel. It took him a while to relies what he was doing.

He was playing Voldemort's game.

Harry stopped what he was doing and froze. His mind was flooding with fresh confusion, happiness, pain, feeling. He was relived that the whole "Your actually really attractive" act Voldemort was trying to put on wasn't real. This was the point all along. He wanted Harry to kill himself for him. Of course. Harry thought. He was relieved to know that Voldemort wasn't going to kiss him again. Or worse.


Voldemort was so amused at the boy. He knew eventually he would use pain to feel again. It was all part of the road to madness. Of course, Voldemort wasn't goo to let the boy go completely insane. He liked the fire in the boys eyes. The spirit was far to fun to play with to destroy.

He could read the boys thoughts through the walls. He also found it quit entertaining that the boy was back in his "All he wants to do is kill me" mind set. That, was another thing Voldemort didn't want to lose in the boy. It made his game so much more spicier.

He isn't going to do any more damage to his body. I guess the fun is over. Voldemort thought. He made the decision that it was time to take the boy out. He would then see the loveliness of his Pet enjoying his touch. He knew the touch would be his Pet simply craving a Touch, not his touch. No matter. It was Pet's touch Voldemort wanted in the end. Real or not.


After a while, Harry gave up on trying to think. He knew that hurting himself was all Voldemort's game. That was all he needed to know. He sat there for a while, mind dull. Then, the door behind him swung open.

Harry jumped up and swung around, only to find Voldemort and his creepy af smile staring him down.

"Have a nice visit, Pet?" Harry didn't respond. He didn't need to. Voldemort could clearly see the anger in his eyes. "There is no need to be angry, dear." Said Voldemort slowly, caressing the side of Harry's face. Harry did not move. It was not the resolt Voldemort had expected. He expected a scared, quivering boy who needed the touch of anything.

Harry glared up at the red eyes. He could see Voldemort's expression change. He seemed... Disappointed.

Suddenly, the fake pleasantness disappears from Voldemort. He slapped the boy harder than he had in the past. He grabbed the boy and pulled him out of the room, only to slam him up against a real solid wall.

"Why didn't it work?!" Voldemort cried out in rage. He read the boys confused thoughts.

"You-you where supposed to be needing touch. You where to be craving my touch after this room was done with you!" He bellowed in rage.

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you." Harry said with a smirk. Voldemort slapped him again. Harry lost his bravery, and started to feel like a scared little boy again. He tried to run- Voldemort slammed him back into the wall.

Harry was shaking with fear, breathing loudly. Voldemort had his hands on both sides of Harry on the wall, leaving no escape routes. He looked up into Voldemort's eyes. Voldemort was not looking at him tho, he was looking off into space, in some deep thought. He let Harry go suddenly and started to pace threw the room.

"Of course... You already scratched yourself up.. You didn't need to feel. I should have gotten you out of there before you beat yourself up. I'm so foolish..." He trailed off.

Harry stood there, watching the wizard scold himself, watched him pace around madly. His eyes darted to the stair case. If he could make a run for it, he might be able to beat Voldemort to the top. I mean Voldemort is older, Harry is younger and more agile. He could get a fair chance....

Without even realizing what he was doing, Harry dashed to the staircase. He ran up it as fast as he could. He knew the walk would be long, but he had a chance. He had a chance of escape. Not just from the White Room, but from Riddle Manor. I could go home he thought as he dashed franticly up the stairs.

Harry could see the light coming from the open door. His heart filled with hope. He glanced behind him, and to his relief, Voldemort was so far behind he couldn't even see him.

When Harry turned back around, his heart sunk. There his enemy stood, blocking the freaking doorway. Of course.. He can apparate here.. He's only done it five hundred times! It's his bloody house?

"Going somewhere, Pet?"

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