Please realise that the stories you have heard about Harry Potter are told from his point-of-view. Now, I'm hardly suggesting that it was all made up. Far from it; his life was filled with hardship after hardship -- prophecies to fulfil, dark wizards to defeat, guardians cruelly stolen, and hated teachers that invaded his head, exposing every weakness, leaving him vulnerable.

All of that was completely true.

Harry Potter's lies were ones of omission.

You see, the Dark Mark isn't simply an outward symbol of loyalty to our Lord; it inextricably links his followers to Him, and His whims are His own. He can be in any place we are at any time, whenever He desires. This is why Severus learned Legilimency and Occlumency, though I did not know of his talents until much later.

I never took any preventative measures. Perhaps I thought I had nothing to hide, perhaps I am stupid, or perhaps in my heart of hearts I am an exhibitionist.

The sensation of the Dark Lord invading my head was still strange the year after his return. I'd experienced it in my youth, but He'd spent the years after his first defeat too weak to have any effect on his followers. All the same, I knew something was different this time; the best way I can describe it would be to say my head felt crowded. Despite my surprise at the invasion and the extra guests, I kept the pace on my cock steady, constant, not feeling the slightest bit of embarrassment even with the new visitor because I knew my Lord always took pleasure in my body, whether He was around it, in it, or in it. As my pulse and breath quickened, I heard the Dark Lord hiss words of encouragement, sibilant sounds that wrapped around me. My thoughts became increasingly his with each repetition of my fist, every arch of my hips, until a thought unlike the others pushed through, clear as a bell:

Think about Harry Potter, said the voice in desperate, needy tones, and I felt compelled to do nothing but. My head swam with thoughts of tousled hair, skin unmarred except for a livid scar on his forehead, and innocent eyes, watching me curiously. I came messily over my fist at those thoughts, a single word unspoken on my lips.

I kept it to myself that he'd been present that time, and he returned, again and again, always under the cover of night, always demanding my thoughts be on him. What I found particularly interesting was the fact that Voldemort didn't realise this until it had been happening for months. Our side simply underestimated the Boy Who Lived.

Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort -- something that we should have considered inevitable. Many did; I suppose they were wiser than my fellow followers. On the other hand, they don't know the entire story, they only know the power he wields over them.

Harry Potter was my Lord long before he was theirs.