Harry didn't know how it happened. One moment he was outside the Dursleys' house, and the next he was being dragged away by two large men.

Harry felt terrible. The emptiness inside and the bad thoughts filled his body with a heavy pain that made his inner omega whine. It was all too much. He was the Chosen One, the Golden Boy. But all Harry wanted was care and a warm nest with pleasant scents. Only his friends (Alpha Hermione and Beta Ron) understood him, although not completely. They sympathized and were angry at the teachers who had treated Harry so badly. He didn't want this fate, didn't want to kill or save anyone.

The tight rope burned the delicate skin of his wrists, and tears welled up in his eyes. He felt nauseous after the spatial displacement, and a rough hand on his shoulder forced him to kneel. He let out a soft whimper.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, bringing with them a calming scent. Books, earth, and smoke. Your scent. A high-pitched voice, which he realized was Bellatrix's, was heard above him. "My Lord, we've captured the boy!" However, before she could finish, a painful spell was cast at her, causing her to bend over in pain.

"How dare you disobey my orders? I said no pain. He should have come on his own, you stupid bitch." Your voice was rough and confident.

Harry wanted to whine at the sound of it. He felt weak, and his vision was gradually fading. The last thing he remembered was a pair of gentle, strong arms keeping him from falling face-first to the ground.

---

Harry slowly came to his senses. Surprisingly, he felt better, calmer. His inner omega was purring quietly, pleased with the situation.

Harry was sitting on a surprisingly soft and clean bed that smelled pleasant. He slowly opened his eyes and saw a man sitting in front of him. A tall man in his forties was sitting in a chair across from the bed, reading something, his delicate features were furrowed, and his entire body exuded strength and comfort. Voldemort. His alpha.