Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1007306.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle, Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape, Harry_Potter/Severus
      Snape/Voldemort, Harry_Potter/Voldemort
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Tom_Riddle, Voldemort, Ron_Weasley, Hermione
      Granger, Kingsley_Shacklebolt
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Coercion, Mindfuck, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Angst, Drama,
      Manipulation, Dubious_Consent, Possession, Harry_Potter_is_a_Horcrux,
      Under_the_Influence_of_Horcruxes, Horcruxes, Oblivious_Harry,
      Manipulative_Tom_Riddle, Top_Tom_Riddle, Sane_Tom_Riddle, Deathly_Hallows
      AU, Bottom_Severus_Snape, Bottom_Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape_Lives, Angst
      with_a_Happy_Ending, Possessive_Tom_Riddle
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-17 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 40021
****** The Soul Adores ******
by Maeglin_Yedi
Summary
     Harry gets his hands on Slytherin's locket, but gold is not all he
     finds. In a desperate bid to gain crucial information, Harry attempts
     to play the player, with unpredictable results.
     Non-DH compliant (written and first published in 2006)
Notes
     Pairings: Harry/Tom, Harry/Snape, Harry/Tom/Snape
     Rating: NC-17
     Warnings: dubious consent, manipulation, underage (Harry turns 17 in
     the story), minor character deaths
     Disclaimer: All the characters from Harry Potter belong to J.K.
     Rowling. I just make them shag each other for fun.
     Summary: Harry gets his hands on Slytherin's locket, but gold is not
     all he finds. In a desperate bid to gain crucial information, Harry
     attempts to play the player, with unpredictable results.
     A/N: Written for Mieronna, as part of the 2006 Merry Smutmas fic
     exchange. Many thanks to Ella Bane, GMTH and Regan V for their beta
     work.
     Word count: ~40000
     First published: December 2006
***** Chapter 1 *****
"'Arry!"
Closing the car door, Harry turned and saw Mundungus Fletcher walking towards
him, carrying an ancient suitcase.
"Just doing a dead man's bidding," Mundungus said, and flopped the suitcase
down at Harry's feet. "You know I was just trying to make a living, don't ya?"
"Yeah, sure," Harry said, though he didn't mean it. He glanced at Uncle Vernon,
who was turning a dark shade of purple. "You should go now."
"Right, right." Mundungus cast a forlorn glance at the suitcase, and then
strolled back the way he came. "See ya, 'Arry!"
"Look," Harry said before Uncle Vernon could open his mouth. "I'll be here for
two weeks, and then you'll never have to see me again. So can we just get on
with it without the shouting and the accusations?"
Uncle Vernon huffed, his triple chin wobbling, and then marched inside the
house, car keys jingling in his hand. Sighing, Harry managed to collect his
trunk, Hedwig's cage, and the suitcase, and he dragged them towards his
bedroom.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Late that evening, when the Dursleys had already gone to bed, Harry sat on his
bedroom floor, the suitcase opened in front of him. He found mostly silverware,
all marked with the Black family crest. He examined each piece with care, and
thought of Sirius and the short time they'd spent together in Grimmauld Place.
It didn't hurt as much anymore to remember Sirius, but Harry still wished he
could write to him at least one more time and ask his advice on the mission
he'd undertake soon.
And then he spotted something gold stuffed in the corner of the suitcase.
Harry reached for it, and found a thin, golden chain, and when he pulled on it,
a shiny, golden locket followed.
Gasping, Harry released the locket. It fell to the floor with a soft clink. He
recognized the serpentine S instantly; he'd seen it a few times in the memories
Dumbledore had shown him that year.
It was Slytherin's locket, the one Voldemort's mother once wore and had sold to
Borgin and Burkes. It was the locket Voldemort had stolen from Hepzibah Smith.
It was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes.
Without giving it another thought, Harry grabbed the chain and rushed out of
his room and down the stairs. He ran through the kitchen, out the door and into
the yard to Uncle Vernon's tool shed. Inside, he flipped on the small light
bulb hanging from the wooden ceiling, and reached for the hammer in the
toolbox.
Throwing the locket down on the workbench, Harry raised the hammer, and slammed
it down.
Nothing happened.
It was as though the hammer hadn't even touched the golden locket.
Harry tried again, and again, but no matter how hard he brought the hammer
down, it wouldn't touch the locket. Harry threw the locket to the floor, and
tried to stomp on it with his foot. Again nothing happened.
"Bugger," Harry sighed. He wanted to reach for his wand, to try to curse the
locket, but then he remembered he wasn't seventeen yet. And he really did not
need another Ministry inquiry for doing underage magic.
Staring down at the locket, Harry wished he hadn't told Ron and Hermione to go
home for the two weeks he'd be at the Dursleys'. It seemed like a good plan at
the time, to give his friends a chance to catch up with their own families
before they joined Harry on his new quest. After all, while Harry was stuck at
the Dursleys', he hadn't expected to need their help.
And then Harry decided it didn't really matter. He had the Horcrux, and while
he was at the Dursleys', no one could touch him, so the Horcrux was safe there
as well. He could discuss destroying it when he joined Ron and Hermione at the
Burrow in a fortnight.
Harry picked up the chain carefully, and returned to his bedroom, where he
dropped the locket in his trunk. He'd keep it there until it was time to leave
for the Burrow.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
After four days of sheer and utter boredom, Harry sat on his bed and stared at
his trunk. The house was quiet, as was the street outside, and Harry had tried
to sleep, but thoughts of the locket kept him awake.
It wouldn't hurt to examine it. Perhaps he'd find a way to destroy it after all
if he took a good look at it. He leaned forward to open his trunk. Holding his
breath, he pulled the locket out by its chain, sat back against the wall, and
carefully placed the locket on his outstretched palm.
The golden lid opened, revealing a tiny black-and-white photograph; a portrait
of a handsome young man Harry knew only too well.
Tom Riddle, just as he'd looked in the memory of Hokey the house-elf.
Harry dropped the locket to the sheets and stared at the picture with wide
eyes. And Tom stared right back at him.
"You're not me," Tom said, and Harry clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle a
surprised shriek.
"Who are you?" Tom demanded, and Harry slowly lowered his hand.
"Er..."
"Only I can open this locket," Tom said, his eyes narrowing.
"I'm -- " Harry silently wished Hermione were there. She was the smart one;
she'd know what to say. "I'm a... friend."
"A friend?" Tom sounded as though he didn't believe Harry one bit.
"Yes. I'm a friend of him - you. He asked me to keep this locket safe." Harry
wanted to clap himself on the back for coming up with a lie so quickly. This
was only one part of Voldemort's soul, he figured. A part that had been locked
away years and years ago. This Tom couldn't know who Harry really was.
"Why would I ask you to keep this locket safe?" Tom curved a daring eyebrow.
"Er..." Harry picked up the locket, glanced at the serpentine figure on the lid
briefly, and then concentrated. "Someone is trying to destroy your Horcruxes."
Tom's eyes widened. "You speak Salazar's tongue?"
"Yes," Harry hissed eagerly. If he could convince this Tom he was a friend,
there was a good chance he'd find out more about the other Horcruxes. "You gave
me that gift."
"Are you my heir?"
"In a manner of speaking," Harry said. "You gave me some of your powers right
after I was born." Harry pointed at the scar on his forehead. "You trusted me
with your powers so I could keep your Horcruxes safe for you."
Tom looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he gave Harry a satisfied smile.
"Very well. What is your name?"
"Harry."
"Who is trying to destroy my Horcruxes, Harry?"
Swallowing, Harry gave Tom a grave look. "Dumbledore and his followers. They've
already destroyed your diary and Marvolo's ring."
A dark shadow passed over Tom's face.
"I was only just able to keep this locket out of their hands. I'll keep it safe
for you. But I can't protect your other Horcruxes unless you help me." Harry
bit his lip. He really hoped this photograph of Tom wasn't able to do
Legilimency.
Tom stayed quiet for a moment, and then whispered, "I can help you."
"Can you tell me -- "
"No," Tom said with a smile. "But I can show you."
Harry's eyebrows rose. He remembered reading those exact words in his second
year when Riddle had shown him his memory of framing Hagrid. It had just been a
memory then. And if Tom wanted to show him a memory again, Harry might learn
things that could help him destroy the Horcruxes.
"Okay," he said, and then watched Tom's picture blur until a vague image of a
tiny room came into view. Harry raised the locket to his face and held it
closer to his eyes, trying to peek inside that room. A familiar pull followed -
- and it felt an awful lot like being sucked inside a Pensieve, Harry now
realized -- and the world around Harry turned upside down until he felt a
solid, wooden floor beneath his bare feet.
He stood inside a small attic room. The sparse furniture looked old and worn,
but the room was clean and tidy. A single bed stood under a square window, a
wardrobe stood beside it, and against the opposite wall was a desk at which Tom
Riddle sat.
Harry moved a few steps, so he could see the objects on the desk. There was the
diary, Marvolo's ring, and Slytherin's locket. Tom was reading an ancient book,
the parchment yellowed, and Harry moved closer still to see what was on those
pages.
Tom turned in his seat and stared up at Harry. "Hello, Harry."
Gasping, Harry stumbled back until he hit the wall behind him. "What..how...?"
Tom rose from his chair and stood in front of Harry a second later. "You
expected to see a memory?" he asked, and Harry gave a faint nod. "I expected to
show you a memory as well, but it seems we're more alike than I initially
thought." Tom raised a finger and trailed it over the scar on Harry's forehead.
Stiffening, Harry stared up into Tom's hazel eyes. Tom was taller than him, and
Harry felt trapped standing between Tom and the wall. "I don't understand," he
whispered.
"But I do," Tom said, smiling. "I understand it perfectly now." He grabbed
Harry's arm and led him towards the bed. "Come, you must tell me everything."
Harry sank down on the bed beside Tom, his back straight and shoulders tense.
"What do you want to know?"
"You can start by telling me what happened to my diary and Marvolo's ring."
"Oh. Right." Harry inhaled a deep breath. Everything around him was real. This
wasn't at all like being inside a Pensieve. The bed Harry sat on felt real, the
floor beneath his feet was solid, and Tom's hand on his arm had felt warm and
alive. This was quite unexpected, and Harry looked up at Tom, and realized Tom
was waiting for an answer.
"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed."
"No matter." Tom smiled, and Harry marveled at how completely human Tom still
looked.
"The diary," Harry started, and then frowned. He needed to convince this Tom he
was a friend. "I opened the Chamber of Secrets in my second year," Harry
continued solemnly. Tom's face lit up. "I briefly got my hands on your diary,
and you - well, that you - showed me your memories of the Chamber of Secrets. I
sent the Basilisk after Muggleborns, but unfortunately, before the Basilisk
could kill anyone, Dumbledore intervened and killed it, and then destroyed the
diary."
"That meddling old fool," Tom said, and his hazel eyes flashed crimson. Harry
repressed a shudder. "And the ring?"
"Dumbledore found it about a year ago. I'm not sure how or where, but he
destroyed it. Though it did curse him. It blackened his hand."
"It didn't kill him?" Tom asked, frowning. "I placed that curse on it not too
long ago. It should have killed anyone trying to destroy it."
Harry frowned as well, trying to remember what Dumbledore had told him about
that ring. Hadn't Dumbledore said he might not have lived to tell the tale if
it hadn't been for Snape? And why had Snape saved his life then only to kill
him later? Harry stopped that train of thought. He needed to concentrate on Tom
now.
"It almost did kill him. But he made it back to Hogwarts, and one of his staff
members saved his life. But Dumbledore is dead now. He died a little over a
week ago."
"Did he now?" Tom's lips curved up in a terrible smile, one that made Harry
shiver. "And how do you know all this?"
"I'm like a spy," Harry said, and then thought that sounded really stupid. "I'm
a Gryffindor, and Dumbledore trusted me. I had him wrapped around my finger,
and he had no idea who I really was or who I was really working for." Harry
gave Tom his brightest smile. "You."
"Indeed," Tom said, leaning closer to Harry. He reached out and touched his
finger to the scar on Harry's forehead. Harry really wished he'd stop doing
that, even though it didn't hurt. It tickled a little. But having Tom Riddle -
Voldemort - sitting beside him, completely fascinated with the scar he'd put
there in the first place was almost too much for Harry's nerves to handle.
"No one knows about this," Harry said, desperate to redirect Tom's attention.
"Even your closest followers don't know about my true allegiance. You always
call me your secret weapon."
Harry hoped he wasn't overdoing it, but he knew Tom was suspicious by nature
and needed more convincing. Or perhaps it was Harry himself who needed more
convincing of whatever he was doing. If this plan worked, it was going to be
the most brilliant plot ever hatched. If it didn't work...well, Harry really
didn't want to think about any of the, most likely fatal, consequences.
"Of course," Tom said, sitting back with a satisfied look. "It is most
fortunate then, that we've run across each other. I can use your assistance on
the outside, Harry. There are a few things you can do for me."
Harry nodded eagerly, hoping it had to do with finding and 'protecting' more
Horcruxes. Then he realized the only glitch in this plan so far. "I can't do
magic yet, though."
Tom curved one questioning eyebrow.
"I'm only sixteen. I'll be seventeen in about three weeks. And I've already had
two official warnings, plus one hearing, concerning underage magic," Harry
said, and then added a heartfelt, "Fucking Ministry."
Tom's lips curved up in a grin. "There are spells to hide underage magic. I'm
surprised you haven't used one yet."
Harry stared at him in disbelief. "There are spells? Really? I honestly didn't
know."
"When you leave here, just take your wand and say: Velieris Veneficus."
"Velieris Veneficus," Harry repeated softly, memorizing the spell.
"It will allow you to do all the magic you want without the Ministry's
interference." Tom gave Harry an expectant look.
"I'll do it right away."
"Good." Tom got up from the bed, and after a moment, Harry followed his
example. "Open the locket when you're ready to do my bidding." Tom moved closer
to the door. He turned and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry tried not to
stiffen under the touch. "Wear the locket, Harry. It is much too valuable not
to, understand?"
"Yeah." Harry nodded, and glanced from Tom to the door. "Er...how do I leave,
exactly?" He hadn't considered that before, but now he was suddenly worried
he'd be stuck there forever. God, wouldn't that be fucking ironic. Having to
spend eternity with a piece of Voldemort's soul in a tiny attic room.
"Just walk out the door, Harry. Come visit me again soon."
"I will. Tomorrow, probably."
Tom gave Harry's shoulder a little push towards the door. Harry gripped the
doorknob and glanced over his shoulder one more time. "Bye," he said, sounding
a tad uncertain.
"Goodbye," Tom said, and it was the last thing Harry heard before he turned the
doorknob and took a step across the threshold. The world spun in spectacular
colors, and within seconds Harry found himself sitting on his own bed, the
closed locket resting quietly on the palm of his hand.
Harry stared at the locket for exactly three and a half seconds; that was how
long it took him to realize just what he'd done. He dropped the locket to his
bed and jumped up, putting as much distance as his bedroom allowed between
himself and that cursed piece of Voldemort's soul.
He had just offered his services to Tom Riddle - no, to Lord Voldemort. He'd
just turned himself into a spy, a willing participant in a deadly game of
bluff.
Who was he trying to kid here? He wasn't smart like Hermione. There was no way
he was ever going to outsmart Lord Voldemort, even if it was just one part of
his soul. What had Dumbledore said? Voldemort was intelligent. Mad as a hatter,
yes, but very, very intelligent. And suspicious. And paranoid. And he didn't
have any friends. And here Harry was pretending to be just that.
Inhaling several shaky breaths, Harry stared at the locket. It looked so
innocent, lying there on his sheets. So harmless. But Harry had seen what lived
inside of it. The memory of hazel eyes flashing crimson swept through Harry and
he shuddered.
The best thing to do right now was bury that locket in his trunk and not take
it out again until he'd figured out a way to destroy it once and for all.
But where was he going to find the other Horcruxes? It wasn't as if Dumbledore
had left him a manual for Horcrux hunting. Harry didn't have a clue where to
start looking.
What chance did he really stand against Voldemort if he didn't manage to find
and destroy all those pieces of his soul?
None. Harry knew that much.
He had a piece of Voldemort's soul right there. A Tom Riddle of his very own,
one that seemed to trust him enough to want to tell him things.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back against the wall. He needed this
Tom Riddle - this Voldemort -- if he ever wanted to destroy the real thing. He
needed to earn the trust of this Tom. He needed to play the part of his loyal
friend and servant.
And most importantly, he needed to keep this new plan an absolute secret. He
couldn't tell Ron and Hermione. Harry suspected Hermione would disapprove, and
he didn't have a safe way to communicate with them, anyway. Hedwig was too
recognizable. And if anyone found out, anyone at all, and the real Voldemort
learned what he was trying to do, he'd gather his Horcruxes before Harry could
get to them, and everything would be lost.
Harry raised his hand and touched the scar on his forehead. He really did not
want to find out how far the real Voldemort could manipulate their connection,
what pains he could put Harry through with a mere thought. For the time being,
Voldemort seemed content to leave Harry's scar alone, but Harry knew if
Voldemort learned of this plan, he'd go after Harry with everything he had, and
that scar, that connection, was Harry's greatest weakness.
Slowly, Harry sank down to the floor, back pressed against the wall and knees
drawn up. A surge of anger burst through him. Anger at Dumbledore for not
giving him better instructions. Anger at Snape for betraying them all. Anger at
Voldemort for fucking his life up. And anger at himself for not being a better
wizard.
He didn't stand a chance. He did not stand one fucking chance against someone
like Voldemort.
No. That wasn't true. He had a plan now. A good plan. Dangerous, certainly, but
no one would ever suspect him of working together with Tom Riddle. And that was
his plan's greatest strength, Harry realized. No one would ever think he'd use
one of Voldemort's Horcruxes against him. Not even Voldemort himself.
First things first. Harry needed his magic if he was going to play the part of
Tom's perfect little spy. Harry pulled his wand from the pocket of his oversize
jeans, and tapped it against his knee.
Was it a test? Had Tom given him that spell to see if he really trusted Tom? If
he'd do exactly what Tom said? Harry had never heard of that spell before, but
then again, he wasn't as big an expert in magic as Tom was.
If he was going to pull this plan off, he needed to trust Tom as much as he
needed Tom to trust him.
Harry flicked his wand and said, "Velieris Veneficus."
A warm tingle shot through his hand and up his arm. Harry waited, looking
around his bedroom, but nothing else happened. Chewing on his bottom lip, Harry
aimed his wand at his trainer lying on the floor nearby, and thought with all
his might: Wingardium Leviosa.
The trainer rose in the air shakily, hovered for a few moments, and dropped to
the floor again. Harry sighed. He needed to practice his wordless magic. Still,
he'd done unauthorized magic twice in a row now. If Tom's spell didn't work,
the Ministry was sure to notice.
Harry pushed himself up and shuffled to the window. He stared at the night sky,
looking for any signs of an incoming Ministry owl. For several long minutes he
saw nothing that resembled an owl, until a faint silhouette appeared above the
houses across the street. It soared closer and closer, and Harry's heart missed
several beats. When the owl flew over the rooftop and into the light of a
nearby street lamp, Harry released a deep breath.
It was Hedwig, returning from her nightly hunt.
"You scared me," Harry said with a nervous chuckle as he opened the window to
let Hedwig in. Hedwig gave an indignant hoot, hopped inside her cage, and
ruffled her feathers.
Harry closed the window and stared at the sky for a while longer, but no
Ministry owls appeared. It seemed that Tom's spell worked. And that was a very
good thing, because now Harry could spend his time at the Dursleys' practicing
wordless magic and Occlumency, and whatever else he needed to defeat the most
powerful wizard alive.
A glance at the clock told him it really was time to get some sleep if he
wanted to have enough energy to practice the following day. Harry returned to
his bed and noticed the locket. Tom had told him to wear it. And while Harry
wasn't too fond of the idea of keeping a piece of Voldemort's soul that close,
he had to prove to Tom he could be trusted.
With a sigh, Harry picked up the locket and slipped the chain around his neck.
The gold was cold against his skin, but nothing suspicious happened, and Harry
got into bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin.
This plan was going to work. He had to believe it was going to work, because
otherwise he might as well turn himself in to Voldemort right away. And Harry
had no intention of doing that.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry stood in front of his bed and stared at the items he'd spread out on the
sheets. He'd spent the entire day practicing wordless magic, and much to his
surprise it had gone reasonably well. Apparently all Harry needed was the
absence of Snape to perform properly. And thoughts of Snape had helped him come
up with a new addition to his plan.
He was going to use everything he knew about his enemies against them, and to
do that he needed to retrieve a special little something from a fortress. And
for that, he needed Tom's help.
Harry stuffed his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map in his bag, and sat
down on his bed. He pulled the locket from beneath his t-shirt, and clicked it
open.
"Hello, Harry," Tom said, offering him a pleased smile.
"Hi," Harry replied, and managed a small smile of his own. "Can
I...er...visit?"
"Certainly." Tom's photograph morphed into the image of the small attic room,
and Harry let it pull him in until he stood facing Tom.
"The spell worked," Harry said. "I spent the entire day practicing wordless
magic. It went really well."
"I am pleased to hear that." Tom sat down on the bed, and patted the spot
beside him. Harry hesitated for half a second, and then sat down as well,
keeping a small distance between them.
"I need your help," he said, staring at his knees. He inwardly cursed himself
and looked up to meet Tom's eyes. Tom looked perfectly calm and composed, and
gave Harry a slight nod. "I need to get something from Hogwarts, but it's
closed for the summer. I have a secret way in, but I need to know if any of the
staff will be there, or if there are any spells protecting the castle."
"Breaking into Hogwarts?" Tom chuckled. "If you have a way inside the castle
that shouldn't be a problem. Only the main entrances are heavily guarded with
magic during the summer. And the staff are never there, except for the game
keeper."
Hagrid, Harry thought. Well, that wasn't a problem. Hagrid trusted him, so if
he got caught, he wouldn't be in any trouble.
"What do you need from Hogwarts?" Tom asked, tilting his head.
"A spell book. Last year, one of your followers gave me his Potions book to
use, and it has a lot of useful spells and curses in the margins. But I had to
hide it right before school ended. Dumbledore almost saw it."
"There are lots of useful books at Hogwarts. Take me with you, and I will tell
you which books to get."
"All right," Harry said, though he wasn't sure if he wanted to go to Hogwarts
with Tom Riddle. He briefly closed his eyes. He needed to stop thinking like
that. He was going to use his enemies' knowledge against his enemies. So of
course he wanted to know what books Tom was interested in.
"We can go right now." Harry got up and looked from Tom to the door.
"Keep the locket opened, Harry. I will be there." Tom gestured at the door,
again offering Harry a pleased smile. Harry stared at him for a moment, only
seeing handsome Tom and finding it hard to see the monster who had killed his
parents inside the young man. He shook himself and placed his hand on the
doorknob.
"I'll see you in a bit," Harry said, and opened the door. A few dizzying
moments later Harry stood inside his bedroom, the locket safely around his
neck. It was still open, and Harry glanced down to see Tom looking up at him.
"Still here?" Harry asked, picking up his bag.
"Yes," Tom said, and glanced around the room. "What is this place?"
"I live with my aunt and uncle. They're Muggles."
"Muggles?" Tom spat, and Harry sighed. He should have seen that one coming.
"I have to live here until I'm seventeen. I don't like them. They aren't very
nice. But it's the perfect cover, because who would think Lord Voldemort's most
loyal servant lives with Muggles, right?"
Tom stayed quiet for a moment. "Where will you go once you turn seventeen?"
Good question, Harry thought. He was supposed to go to the Burrow, but he
couldn't stay with the Weasleys while he was playing the part of Voldemort's
spy. Nor did he want to take a piece of Voldemort's soul with him to see his
friends. Godric's Hollow briefly crossed his mind, but he didn't want to go
there with Voldemort tagging along.
"My godfather died a few years ago," he finally said, his mind racing to come
up with a plausible explanation. "He was a Black. I think you might have heard
of that family? They're all purebloods."
"I have," Tom said. He sounded happy enough with this latest development.
"Well, he left me the Black family house in London. It's mine now, so I'll go
and live there in a few weeks."
"Very well. Do you know how to apparate?"
"Yep. I'll apparate to Hogsmeade. I know of a secret passageway below
Honeydukes that will get us into Hogwarts."
"It is still there?" Tom asked, surprised.
"You know of it?" Harry sounded equally surprised.
"Of course. You are not the only one to ever break into Hogwarts during the
summer, Harry. Let's not waste any more time here."
Harry snorted. Really, why was he even surprised? Tom Riddle had discovered the
bloody Chamber of Secrets. It wasn't very strange he also knew of a secret
passageway in and out of Hogwarts. Harry shouldered his bag, closed his eyes
and apparated to a deserted spot in Hogsmeade, not far from the Shrieking
Shack.
He quickly patted down his body to see if all his bits were still attached.
"You're still new at this?" Tom asked, amused.
"Yeah. I'm always worried I'll leave something behind. Besides, the last thing
we need now is a Ministry team to put me back together."
"How right you are."
Harry grinned, and pulled his invisibility cloak from his bag. He draped it
across his head and shoulders, making sure his entire body was covered before
he started making his way up to Hogsmeade's main street.
Tom made an appreciative sound. "This will certainly make it easier to avoid
the portraits."
Harry blinked. He hadn't even thought about all the portraits at Hogwarts. If
they saw him and reported back to McGonagall or any of the other staff, he'd be
in trouble.
"You hadn't thought of the portraits, had you?" Tom asked. There was little
amusement in his voice now.
Cheeks flushing, Harry glanced down at the locket. "Sorry."
"There is still much I need to teach you, Harry. You seem eager and you
certainly have plenty of potential, but there is much work to be done with you
yet."
Harry felt a little offended. "I cast a full Patronus when I was thirteen. It
scared off a whole herd of Dementors."
"Really?"
"Yep. And I competed in the TriWizard Tournament when I was fourteen. I battled
a Hungarian Horntail during the first task."
"And you didn't die. Obviously. How outstanding. Harry, it really is a good
thing I have come across you. Your kind of courage is hard to find."
Harry tried not to feel too pleased with Tom's approval. This was Voldemort
praising him, after all. Still, having the most powerful wizard in the world
complimenting him wasn't the worst feeling he'd ever had.
Even though it wasn't fully dark yet, the stores in Hogsmeade were already
closed and the streets were mostly deserted. The few people they passed didn't
notice anything. Harry made sure of that.
When he arrived at Honeydukes, he found the store dark and the door locked.
Good. He walked around the store to the back, so there would be less chance of
prying eyes seeing the door opening and closing, seemingly on its own. A few
charms cracked the lock on the back door easily enough, and once inside Harry
hurried towards the basement and lowered himself down the hatch.
He cast a Lumos and started the long trek through the tunnel.
"It's just as I remember it," Tom said. "Do many students know of it at
present?"
"No. My godfather and some friends discovered it when he was at school, and he
passed it on to me and some of my friends. He even made a special map of
Hogwarts. You'll see it when we get to the castle."
"I can't wait," Tom said, and Harry wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or
not. He decided it didn't really matter. He was playing a part, after all. Tom
could think of him what he wanted, as long as Harry got him to cough up the
information he needed. And perhaps spending a little time together at Hogwarts
was what Tom needed to trust Harry.
Harry didn't know, to be honest. He'd never tried to be a spy before. How had
Snape managed it for all those years? Yes, Snape was a lying, betraying,
murdering bastard, but he'd obviously been good at playing a role, seeing that
he'd managed to fool someone like Dumbledore.
And now Harry was attempting to do the exact opposite.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks as pieces of earlier conversation suddenly
fell into place. If this Tom knew how to get inside Hogwarts, Voldemort knew as
well. And with Dumbledore gone, nothing stood in Voldemort's way to invade the
castle at any given time.
They couldn't reopen Hogwarts. The risk was too great. He had to write to
McGonagall to tell her that.
"Everything all right, Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry said automatically, and continued his walk through the dark. "I
was just thinking about Sirius. That's my godfather. I miss him." That was true
enough, he supposed.
"Tell me about him," Tom said, and he sounded quite sincere.
"He spent over a decade in Azkaban. He got arrested for murder and was accused
of being one of your followers. He escaped when I was thirteen and spent two
years as a fugitive before he was killed. He was the only family I had left,
seeing that my parents died when I was a baby."
"Tell me about your parents."
Something clenched inside Harry's chest and made it difficult to breathe. "I'd
rather not talk about them. I don't know much about them, anyway."
"Very well. Are you a pureblood?"
Harry hesitated, and then said, "Sure."
"It's not very nice to lie, Harry," Tom said, a teasing hint to his tone. "How
can you be a pureblood when your aunt and uncle are Muggles?"
Damn. That's what he got for thinking he could lie so easily to Voldemort. Best
to just stay as close to the truth as he could. "Sorry," he said with a shrug.
"My dad was a pureblood and my mum was a Muggle-born."
"A half-blood then. That's not the end of the world."
"I know you're a half-blood as well," Harry said, hoping he wasn't pushing
things too far. He glanced down at the locket, and saw Tom's shadowed face
looking up at him with an amused smile.
"Do you now? And what else do you know about me?"
"That you were a brilliant student when you were at Hogwarts. And that you
experimented with powerful magic after you left. And that you managed to become
immortal. They tried to kill you about fifteen years ago, but it didn't take.
Even the Killing Curse didn't work on you. Two years ago, you came back."
"And is that why you are so keen on serving me, Harry? Is it immortality you
seek?"
Harry bit his lip. He needed to stay as close to the truth as he could.
"Revenge," he said. He took a deep breath. "It was Dumbledore who sent me to
live with my Muggle aunt and uncle after my parents died. They hate magic. They
locked me up in a cupboard for most of my childhood. Starved me half the time.
They think I'm a freak."
"Revenge," Tom whispered. "A noble cause. You shall have it, Harry."
You have no idea, Harry thought, fighting to keep a grin off his face. The
passageway began to rise, slowly at first, but by the end Harry had to drop to
all fours to climb up the steep stone tunnel floor. He tapped the back of the
stone witch with his wand, muttering, "Dissendium." It moved aside obediently,
and Harry had to hold his breath as he squeezed through the narrow space. He
wasn't thirteen anymore, he realized.
Well, this also explained why Voldemort hadn't used this passage to get his
Death Eaters inside the castle a few weeks ago. Most of them wouldn't have fit
through.
"We need to get to the seventh floor," Harry whispered, checking his
invisibility cloak.
"The Room of Requirement?" Tom asked.
"Yep," Harry said, and glanced down at Tom. "Are there any secrets in this
castle you don't know about?"
Tom chuckled. "I doubt it."
Harry doubted it, too, and that thought was a scary one. He pulled the map from
his bag and tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
"You were right," Tom said, as ink appeared on the paper, forming walls and
corridors. "That is a special map."
"Told you." Harry studied the map for a moment, but the only name he saw was
Hagrid's, and he was outside on the grounds near his cabin. "All clear."
They kept quiet as Harry navigated the corridors and stairs with ease. The
castle was deserted, save for the countless portraits they encountered. Most of
them were snoring, but some seemed awake and alert.
I need to get my book back, Harry thought several times once he reached the
right corridor, and promptly the door appeared. The immense space beyond was as
Harry remembered it; filled with mostly rubbish and forgotten things, and one
pile of splintered wood that had been a vanishing cabinet until recently. Harry
tried not to stare at it too long.
He retrieved his book from the cabinet where he'd left it, and looked at the
worn cover. He'd liked the Prince. Defended him, even. And all that time the
Prince had been a traitor and a murderer. Well, he'd just see how Snape liked a
close encounter with Sectumsempra the next time Harry saw him.
"This is the book you need?" Tom asked. Harry'd almost forgotten he was still
there. A dangerous error, he realized.
"Yeah. This will come in handy."
"Good. I suggest we make a brief stop at the library before we leave."
"All right." Harry tucked the book inside his bag, adjusted his cloak, and left
the Room of Requirement with mixed feelings swirling through him. Malfoy and
Voldemort had used that room to their advantage, resulting in Dumbledore's
death. And Harry had known something was up and no one had believed him.
Not this time. Harry had a plan and he'd be damned if he was going to let
anyone tell him he was wrong. He had to make things right. He had no other
choice.
As he strolled through the fourth floor corridor towards the library, Harry
glanced to the side and spotted something white through the window. His breath
caught in his throat, and he halted at the sudden sight of Dumbledore's tomb.
Even in the darkness outside it was clearly visible, a patch of white on a
stretch of dark-green grass.
"Is that the old fool's final resting place?" Tom asked, and Harry had to grind
his teeth to keep from saying something that would betray him.
"Yeah," he whispered, and swallowed.
"How did he die?"
"He was killed by one of your followers. Snape. He'd been fooling Dumbledore
for a long time. Dumbledore had no idea he was really on your side."
"A Killing Curse?"
"Yes."
"Too merciful, if you ask me. That meddling bastard deserved a whole lot more
pain than that."
Pursing his lips, Harry glanced down at the locket. He got the overwhelming
urge to snap it shut and throw it out the window. Instead he put his hands on
the window sill. "Destroying one of your Horcruxes put him in a lot of pain,"
he said, his voice trembling at the end. He cleared his throat.
"Good," Tom said, lips curving up in a nasty smile.
Harry ignored him and stared at the tomb, and wished with all his might that he
could have one final talk with Dumbledore, ask all those questions he didn't
have any answers to, and demand his worries for Hogwarts' safety be taken
seriously.
There was no use in wishing, though. Dumbledore was dead, and all Harry had to
aid him now was a chatty piece of Voldemort's soul.
Well, at least Voldemort seemed far less cryptic than Dumbledore had always
been. The chances of getting answers had improved with these recent
developments. That had to count for something.
"Let's go, Harry."
Harry turned away from the window without a backwards glance.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
"I assume you know the Unforgivables," Tom said.
Harry was busy staring at the pile of books on his bed and trying not to feel
too guilty for having stolen them from Hogwarts' library. He kept telling
himself it was for a good cause, even though those pages harbored the kind of
magic Harry wouldn't have sought out on his own.
"Harry? Are you even listening to me?"
"Sorry," Harry said, glancing down at the locket. "What were you saying?"
"I said I assume you know the Unforgivables." There was an impatient note to
Tom's voice.
"Er..." Harry worried his lip. "I've cast the Cruciatus Curse before. Sort of."
Tom's eyes narrowed, and even though his face was small trapped in the locket,
the air he gave off was menacing. "Then I suggest you start practicing at
once."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "I can't cast Unforgivables. If the Ministry finds out
they'll -- "
"They won't find out. The spell you used will see to that."
Swallowing, Harry looked away from the locket. Truth was, he did not want to
cast Unforgivables. He did not want to lower himself to that level. "I'm not
sure if -- "
"If you cannot use the Unforgivables you are useless to me," Tom said. "I
demand you return me to my living self right this minute."
"No!" Harry's knees gave out and he sank down on his bed. "I can learn to cast
them. You can help me, right?"
Tom's lips quirked up and he looked positively cheerful. "Certainly. I suggest
you start by transfiguring something into a small animal. You'll need a subject
to practice on, after all."
Harry's heart hammered in his chest, so much so breathing became painful. He
was playing a part, he reminded himself. He was supposed to be Voldemort's
perfect little spy, and any of Voldemort's followers would know how to use the
Unforgivables.
"If you really want to keep my Horcruxes safe you'll need to know how to
protect them, Harry. What do you think the Ministry would use should you ever
come up against them? A Stinging Hex?"
"You're right," Harry said, more to halt the conversation than to agree with
Tom. He just wanted it over with now that he had given in. He summoned an old
trainer from his closet and dropped it to his sheets. In a bout of vengeful
inspiration he transfigured it into a rat. It didn't look perfect, seeing as it
had three blue stripes on either side of its furry gray body, but it behaved
enough like a rat as it sniffed around, so Harry thought it would do.
"Start with the Imperius Curse. Will it to do your bidding."
Harry aimed his wand at the rat, who looked at him with beady eyes and sniffed
the air nervously. "Imperio," Harry said with as much conviction as he could
muster. The rat's pointy face went slack.
"Now give it a command, Harry."
"Roll onto your back," Harry said, and held his breath as the rat tried to move
away, once, twice, and then fell to its side and rolled over, small paws
sticking up.
"You can do better than that. Again."
Harry sighed, and raised his wand.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
"Perhaps I just don't like causing pain!" Harry yelled, grateful for the
silencing charms he'd used on his room early that morning before he'd started
practicing wordless magic.
"There must be someone you'd want to inflict great pain upon!"
"At the moment? You!"
"Then use that, Harry. Use whatever hatred you have and cast the bloody
Cruciatus Curse on that rat!"
Harry buried his face in his hands and took a deep, shaky breath. The Imperius
Curse had gone all right after about two dozen tries. But the Cruciatus Curse
was a disaster. The rat didn't do more than twitch in annoyance every time
Harry cast it.
"I am not going to torture anyone so why do I need to know how to cast it in
the first place?"
"My God, but you are a stubborn boy," Tom said. "Fine. Then cast the Killing
Curse."
Harry looked down at the locket with wide eyes. "You want me to - now? It's two
in the bloody morning. I want some sleep."
"Cast the Killing Curse, Harry."
"This really can wait until tomorrow. It's no use to try a new curse now!"
"Cast the Killing Curse, and then you can get some sleep," Tom said, sounding
almost soothing. If anything, it was a lot scarier than Tom screaming and
shouting at him.
"Look, Tom, I don't have the energy to -- "
"What did you call me?" Tom's voice was cold enough to freeze water, and Harry
realized his error.
"Sorry," he muttered. "Lord?"
"Cast the Killing Curse, Harry."
Harry stared at the rat, which was sitting still on the sheets, exhausted after
all those rounds under the Imperius Curse. "Not tonight."
"Kill the bloody rat!"
"No!"
"Kill it! Now!"
"You fucking bastard!" Harry raised his wand and slashed it through the air.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A great green flash struck the rat and it dropped to its side, dead.
"Finally some decent progress. Well done, Harry."
Harry couldn't breathe. He'd just cast the Killing Curse, right there in his
own bedroom. And it had worked. He'd killed something. He lowered his trembling
arm and leaned closer to the small rodent. It was dead as a doornail. He'd
really killed it.
He glanced around, suddenly panicked, expecting the roof to collapse or Aurors
to break down his door. He'd cast the fucking Killing Curse.
No, he was playing the part of Voldemort's spy. So he cast the Killing Curse?
All Death Eaters used it, of that he was sure.
"Er..." He picked up the dead rat by its tail and moved towards Hedwig's cage.
"Do you want this?"
Hedwig turned her back to him, feathers ruffled.
Sighing, Harry opened the window and dropped the small corpse. It landed in the
hydrangea bush beneath his bedroom. Harry was sure some bird or cat would find
it and dispose of the evidence soon enough.
He'd cast the bloody - no, he was playing his part. It was all part of his
plan. Harry tugged off his t-shirt and kicked off his trainers. He'd always
known that someday he might have to cast the Killing Curse. After all, how else
was he going to kill Voldemort when the time came? Push him off a cliff, or
levitate a piano and drop it over his head?
"Tomorrow we can practice the Killing Curse some more. You really did well
tonight."
"Sure," Harry sighed. He tossed his jeans into a corner and slipped under the
sheets. The locket rested on his bare chest. "Good night. Lord."
"Good night, Harry."
Harry clicked the locket shut with a snap.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
"Harry? Wake up."
Harry surfaced through a fog of sleep and bizarre dreams of rats and books and
green light. "Huh?"
"It's time to get up."
He knew that voice, but it seemed awfully wrong somehow. Harry blinked his eyes
open and saw Tom smiling. The locket lay on the pillow beside his face.
There really was something wrong with the world when the first thing he saw in
the morning was Voldemort smiling at him. If anything, it woke him up at once.
Harry glanced at the alarm clock. It was past ten. Tom was right. Time to get
up.
"After you get dressed, we can practice the Killing Curse again."
Or perhaps not. Harry threw an arm over his face and groaned. "There's plenty
of other stuff I can practice," he mumbled, and licked his lips. "I can show
you the Sectumsempra. It's a really nasty curse. Slices a person right open."
"Sounds fascinating, but I do think you need to perfect your Killing Curses
first."
"Joy," Harry sighed, and pushed himself out of bed. "And once I perfect it, am
I good enough to protect all your Horcruxes then?"
"I should think so, yes."
That cheered Harry up a bit, enough to face the prospect of killing a few
transfigured rats with the darkest kind of magic known to man. He listened at
his bedroom door for any sounds of his family, but the house was quiet. They
were probably out again for the day. Harry suspected the Dursleys were planning
day trips for the entire two weeks he was there.
Not that Harry was complaining, mind. It made his life a lot easier, especially
now he was playing host to a piece of Voldemort's soul.
He shuffled towards the bathroom, and once inside he looked down at the locket.
"Sorry, but I want some privacy," he said, and before Tom could respond, he
clicked the locket shut. He relieved himself in the toilet, and stepped under
the hot shower spray.
The familiar morning routine of washing his hair and body allowed him a few
moments of peaceful thoughts, a chance to recollect himself after the last two
turbulent days.
Everything was going fine. Tom was starting to trust him, and even if Harry was
now forced to do magic he'd rather stay away from, it would all be worth it
when he got his hands on those Horcruxes.
He rinsed his body and his hand automatically reached down. He had time for a
quick wank. He needed to be relaxed to get through another day with Voldemort's
soul. Just some tension relief. Harry closed his eyes and stroked his cock. It
hardened at once - he was sixteen, after all - and he enjoyed the building
sensations, pleasure coiling in his belly and balls.
"What on earth is taking you so long?"
Harry snapped his eyes open, released his dick, and glanced down. The locket
hung opened against his chest, and Tom was staring up at him with one curved
eyebrow.
"Jesus! Which part of I need a little privacy didn't you understand?"
"The part where you are wasting valuable time with masturbation, Harry."
Harry turned around in the shower, searching for a way to hide himself from
Tom. Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. He'd been caught wanking in the
shower by Voldemort.
Cheeks burning and erection wilting at an alarming pace, Harry turned off the
water and reached for the nearest towel. He wrapped it around his hips, and
wiped the condensation off the mirror.
Tom smiled triumphantly at him in the damp surface of the mirror. Harry
narrowed his eyes and reached for his toothbrush.
"You know, that was really very rude," he said, smearing toothpaste on the
brush.
Tom's smile grew wider. Harry sighed. Telling Voldemort he was rude was about
as effective as telling a snake it looked scaly. Harry brushed his teeth with a
vengeance, and wondered, not for the first time, how the world had become such
a surreal environment.
Right. The plan. Destroy Horcruxes, kill Voldemort, and enjoy a life of
peaceful wanking in the shower.
"Am I allowed to have some breakfast, or do you plan on starving me like my
bloody Muggle family?" he asked, glaring at Tom in the mirror.
"Honestly, Harry, you know I am not that cruel. Of course you're allowed to
eat."
Harry decided not to comment on that and marched back to his bedroom in search
of clothes.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
"You did well today," Tom said. Harry sat next to him on the bed in the small
attic room.
"Thanks," he whispered, and thought about the ten dead rats lying in the
hydrangea bush. It was a bit worrying how easy it had become to cast the
Killing Curse with just a little practice. Of course, the shouting match with
Tom preceding the practice session had helped. And then Tom had 'invited' him
to spend some time inside the locket. At least, that's where Harry thought he
was. It was still slightly confusing.
What wasn't confusing was feeling Tom's body pressing against his own as they
leaned back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of them, feet hanging
off the bed. That sensation was merely disturbing.
"Do you have a girlfriend, Harry?"
Harry glanced at Tom, surprised by the change of topic. "No," he said. He
stared at the desk opposite the bed and thought of Ginny. Taking the current
circumstances into account, he was very glad he'd broken things off with her.
He noticed the diary lying on the desk. Frowning, he wondered if there was
something he was missing. Something obvious that should occur to him.
"Or a boyfriend?"
Harry snapped his gaze towards Tom. "No," he said quickly. "Nothing like that.
Do you?"
Tom grinned. "Girlfriend or boyfriend?"
"Either."
"No."
Harry felt relieved. Somehow the thought of Voldemort with a significant other
was really very disturbing.
"So you're still a virgin, then?"
Cheeks flushing, Harry tried to move away from Tom, but there was nowhere to
go. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Nothing. I'm just curious." Tom leaned a little closer and made no attempt to
hide his gaze as it swept across Harry's body. "Though by your response I can
tell that you still are."
"That's bullshit. Maybe I just don't want to talk about it," Harry said. This
subject made him very uncomfortable. His sex life, or lack thereof, was not
high up on his list of topics he'd ever want to discuss with his worst enemy.
"Harry, you're sixteen. If you'd had an intimate encounter with a boy or girl,
you'd be bragging about it by now." Tom chuckled, and it made Harry want to hit
him. Stupid bastard.
"How old are you anyway?" he asked in a desperate attempt to change the
subject. "I mean, how old is this version of you?"
"This version," Tom echoed, and laughed. It sounded foreign and warm. "I was
twenty when I created this Horcrux."
"Ah." Harry eyed Tom with both suspicion and curiosity. "So you're still a
virgin as well, then. Seeing that you're not bragging about anything either."
He felt an odd burst of triumph in his chest at that conclusion and offered Tom
a wide grin.
Tom leaned closer. "The first time someone sucked me off I was fourteen. The
first time I fucked a boy I was fifteen. It seems you have some catching up to
do, Harry."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "You're queer?" he blurted, and then prayed Tom wasn't
able to perform Unforgivables on him in their unusual setting.
"Is there something wrong with being queer, as you put it?" Tom asked, and
Harry heard a challenge in his voice. Disagreeing meant pain of some sort,
Harry could tell that much.
"No," he croaked, and tried to move away again, shuffling on the sheets. Tom's
hand on his arm stopped him.
"Tomorrow, I want you to collect one of my Horcruxes for me," Tom whispered,
his breath tickling Harry's ear. Harry turned to look at Tom, his face almost
bumping against Tom's. Those were the words he'd been waiting to hear. Casting
Unforgivables for that was definitely worth it.
"But first, there is something I want from you," Tom said.
Harry nodded, eyes never leaving Tom's. "Sure. What do you want?"
"This," Tom said, and pressed his lips to Harry's. Eyes wide and round, Harry
sat frozen. Of all the things he'd expected Tom to want from him, this wasn't
one of them. Not even in his wildest dreams had he ever expected to feel Tom's
- Voldemort's! -- lips on his own. His body caught up with his frantic thoughts
and he pulled away, gasping for breath.
"I'm not like that," he said. And even if he were, he wasn't doing anything
with Voldemort. Not in a million, billion, trillion years. Ever.
"That doesn't matter in here," Tom said, his hand sneaking up and curving
around the back of Harry's neck. "This isn't real, is it?"
Harry blinked and wondered if that was a trick question.
"This is all in your mind, Harry." Tom leaned into Harry, deftly maneuvering
him to the side so Harry had no other choice but to lie down on his back. Tom
followed him down. "This isn't really my body you feel. I don't have a body,
now do I?"
Utterly at a lack of words all Harry could do was stare up at Tom and think
that for someone without a body, Tom felt suspiciously solid on top of him.
"I have been stuck in here for such a long time," Tom whispered, breath
ghosting across Harry's cheek. "All alone. Allow me a little companionship.
That's all I ask." Tom's lips touched the corner of Harry's mouth. "Just a
little mind fuck, Harry."
Harry shivered, as though the temperature had suddenly dropped ten degrees.
"Er...I...er...I don't think so," he stammered, raising a hand to push Tom
away. He was paralyzed by something; fear, most likely. His hand touched Tom's
shoulder, but without any strength it just rested there.
"I am entrusting my soul to you," Tom said. His breath tickled Harry's lips. "I
need to know how far you are willing to go in serving me."
Tom was blackmailing him, Harry realized that much. His instincts told him to
struggle, to get out while he still could. Yet Harry knew if he refused Tom now
they wouldn't be going to get a Horcrux the next day. And he needed that
Horcrux if he wanted to do Dumbledore's bidding. He had a choice to make and
only a split second to make it.
It was just sex, wasn't it? It wasn't as if they were making eternal vows.
Besides, Tom did have a point. Nothing in here was real. It was all in his
mind.
"I...er...really am a virgin," Harry said. "I haven't done more than snogging
before."
"Snogging?" Tom asked, brow furrowed.
"Kissing. I'm not sure what else to do."
"I'll show you." Tom brushed his lips across Harry's. "Relax, Harry. You are
the keeper of my soul. I am not going to hurt you."
Strangely, Harry believed him. It did little to ease the tightness in his
chest, but he was quite sure Tom had no intention of doing things with force
and against Harry's will.
"All right," Harry whispered, his stomach clenching. "Could you just -- "
"We'll go slow. And you'll enjoy it, I promise you that." Tom's eyes were soft.
So fucking human. Harry almost wished to see them flash crimson so he had
physical proof who was lying on top of him again. All he saw now was a handsome
young man, not a murdering madman. "A little kiss to start with, I think." And
Tom did exactly that.
It was different than the first time. Harry moved his mouth against Tom's, and
he felt a tongue slip past his lips. He answered it with a tentative touch of
his own tongue, and he had to admit, it really did just feel like kissing a
person. Tom deepened the kiss, exploring Harry's mouth, and Harry inhaled
desperate breaths through his nose and tried not to think that he was kissing
Voldemort of all people, or at least a part of Voldemort's soul.
This was all very confusing. Harry tried with all his might to let go of those
thoughts and just focus on the physical contact, even if that physical contact
wasn't real.
Something shifted, and Harry's clothes disappeared. So did Tom's. He was naked,
and there was a naked man on top of him, pinning him against the bed. Harry
pulled back from the kiss.
"I thought you said slow," he gasped.
"This is as far as we'll go today," Tom whispered, pressing feather-light
kisses to Harry's lips. He moved his body, one leg sliding between Harry's
thighs, and Harry had no choice but to part them, and oh crap. For someone
without a body, Tom had a really pronounced erection. It pressed against
Harry's cock, and much to Harry's horrified surprise, his prick decided it
quite liked that feeling.
I'm sixteen, Harry told himself. Friction will do that to a teenager.
Tom was kissing him again, and it became frantic, just like the thrusts of
their hips. Yes, Harry realized he was bucking up, trying to meet Tom thrust
for thrust. He was having sex. With Tom Riddle, Voldemort, a piece of someone's
soul - oh dear, that didn't feel bad right there.
He felt Tom grin against his lips, and he realized at one point he'd closed his
eyes. He looked at Tom, panting and bucking and thrusting, and this was going
to be over really soon. Harry's entire body focused on the feeling of another
hard cock sliding and pressing against his own. Such a wrong feeling, but
damned if Harry could stop now.
"You're close, aren't you?" Tom asked, tongue darting out to lick his upper
lip. Harry nodded, too busy inhaling air to speak. He was clutching at Tom's
shoulders, his legs spread wide - and when the hell had that happened?
It wasn't real. It felt real, sure, but he wasn't really having sex with his
worst enemy. Harry had to tell himself that or else he'd go insane. Or he'd
sick up.
He was going to come soon, the tightness in his thighs and balls familiar, and
he was going to have his first ever shared orgasm with Voldemort.
Not real. A mind fuck. It was all just a mind fuck.
"Come, Harry," Tom whispered, driving his hips down hard enough to force the
air from Harry's lungs. "Come now."
And Harry did. He held onto Tom for dear life as pleasure rolled through him in
waves, his cock spurting his hot release between their naked bodies.
Tom smiled, hazel eyes narrowing. He clamped his mouth down on Harry's again,
groaning, and Harry was sure he'd pass out. He didn't, though. He gasped for
breath and felt Tom's body tense and heat pool between them.
And then it was over, their heaving chests the only parts of their bodies still
moving.
Well, this was different. When Dumbledore had sent him on his mission to find
the Horcruxes, Harry had expected a lot of things. Violence and death and
destruction. Not...sex.
"You liked that, didn't you?" Tom rolled off Harry, resting on his side. Harry
finally felt like he could breathe again.
"Wasn't bad," he said, and licked his lips. In fact, if you forgot about the
whole Voldemort factor it had been pretty good.
Tom propped his head up on one hand and placed the other one on Harry's chest.
He found a nipple and traced a circle around it with his index finger. Harry
lay still and stared up at the ceiling.
"I am surprised my living self hasn't sampled you before," Tom said. The word
'sample' sent a shudder through Harry.
"He's been busy, I think," Harry mumbled.
Tom shrugged. "Ah well. More for me."
Harry was going to ignore that comment. Hell, if it was up to him he was going
to ignore their entire encounter. He glanced down his naked body and then moved
his gaze up Tom's.
"I didn't know you could do magic in here," he said, gesturing at their
nakedness.
Chuckling, Tom trailed his finger down Harry's chest. "Nothing is real in here,
Harry. If we want to be nude, we can be nude. You don't need any spells for
that."
Harry was quite sure he hadn't wanted to be nude, but he decided to let the
matter rest.
"We don't even have to be here." Tom raised his hand and covered Harry's eyes.
Before Harry could struggle to regain his sight, he felt grass beneath his bare
buttocks and wind swept through his hair and the air tasted salty. Tom dropped
his hand, and Harry blinked against the brightness of the afternoon sun.
They were lying on a grass field, which ended in a steep cliff not thirty feet
away from them, and in the distance Harry could see the ocean, calm and
peaceful.
Their surroundings seemed awfully familiar, but it took Harry a few moments to
realize where they were.
Tom had somehow transported them to the seaside and Harry would bet his wand
that below them, at the foot of that cliff, lay the cave where Voldemort had
initially hidden the locket.
"So you can go anywhere you like?" Harry asked, glancing at Tom.
"Not anywhere." Tom lay on his back and stretched his arms above his head.
"Certain places that are significant."
Definitely near the cave. Harry plucked at the grass beneath his hands. It felt
real enough. And then he realized they were both naked, and people might see
them. He sat up and looked around in alarm.
Laughing, Tom sat up as well. "It's not real."
"You keep saying that," Harry said. He pulled his knees up to hide his
privates. "But if it's not real, then what is it?"
"Just magic." Tom placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and eased him down again.
"Magic that comes with a Horcrux. Relax."
Easier said than done. Harry felt tense and restless for a while, but
eventually the warm sun and soothing breeze won out. He dozed, lulled by the
sound of waves in the distance, and that turned into sleep.
When he woke -- minutes or hours later, he wasn't sure -- Tom lay pressed
against him, an arm and leg draped over Harry's body, face buried in Harry's
hair.
So Voldemort liked to snuggle? God, there were so many things wrong with that.
Harry cleared his throat, and it had the desired effect. Tom blinked his eyes
open. "I need to get going," Harry said. Tom sat up and nodded. The air shifted
and at once they were back in the attic room. Harry got up from the bed and
glanced around the room.
"My clothes?"
"You never had them in the first place," Tom said. He stretched out on the bed,
unconcerned. "Tomorrow, we're collecting a Horcrux."
"Yeah, all right," Harry said, and decided he might as well go back without his
clothes. He'd land in his bedroom anyway. "See you tomorrow."
"Goodbye, Harry." Tom smiled at him, and it looked lazy and sated, like a tiger
resting after a particularly satisfying meal. Harry quickly reached for the
doorknob and dashed across the threshold.
He was back in his bedroom, sitting on his bed fully clothed. The only evidence
of his unusual afternoon was the sticky mess in his underwear. So much for it
not being real.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Toweling his hair dry, Harry stared in the bathroom mirror. The hot shower had
helped calm his nerves, at least a little, and had eased his mind that he was
doing the right thing.
He had to focus on the Horcrux that was coming his way soon. Horcrux.
Horcruxhorcruxhorcrux.
Penis! an insistent voice in his head yelped, and Harry gritted his teeth.
Horcrux, dammit!
He didn't want to think about sex and Voldemort's cock and orgasms. He'd done
what needed to be done. Finding and destroying those Horcruxes was far more
important than his virtue.
As he stared at his reflection, Harry noticed a different problem. He looked
too familiar. If Voldemort had servants staking out the Horcrux sites, they'd
recognize him from half a mile away. Yes, he could use his invisibility cloak,
but it severely limited him should he find himself in a busy Muggle area.
Muggles tended to panic when they bumped into something solid yet invisible.
Harry needed a disguise. A simple one.
He leaned closer to the mirror. Which of his features were the most
recognizable? His scar, definitely. His glasses. Possibly his eyes and his
hair. Well, he could get money from Gringott's tomorrow, exchange it, and stop
by a Muggle optician to get some contact lenses. That took care of his glasses.
And Dudley might be able to help him out with the rest.
The Dursleys hadn't returned from their day out yet, so Harry strolled into
Dudley's bedroom after a quick Alohomora. He rummaged around in Dudley's
drawers and wardrobe until he found what he needed.
A blue baseball cap and a pair of black plastic sunglasses. Harry tried them on
in front of the mirror and concluded that it might just work. Up close people
would still recognize him, but if a Death Eater saw him walking by at a
distance there was a good chance they'd be fooled.
Pleased with this latest addition to his plan, Harry returned to his bedroom
and got ready for bed. The locket lay on his night table, since Harry hadn't
wanted a repeat of that morning's surprise in the shower. Not even after they'd
- no, think about the Horcrux.
He slipped the chain around his neck, but the locket stayed closed as it
touched his bare chest. Just as well. He needed his rest for the day to come.
As he crawled under the sheets, Hedwig flew inside through the half-opened
window with a letter clutched in her beak. Harry accepted it, but before he
opened it he made sure the locket was still closed.
 
Harry,
Only one more week! We hope you're all right. Everyone here is busy with the
upcoming wedding. Tension is running high. The latest near-disaster involved
the wedding cake. Fleur insisted on getting one from some bakery in Paris, and
as you can imagine, this offended Mrs Weasley who insists on baking the wedding
cake herself. It seems they have finally compromised on having two wedding
cakes.
We'll come and get you this Saturday at noon. Make sure you're packed, because
Mr Weasley has arranged for a Portkey from the Ministry. We'll see you then!
Hermione (and Ron!)
 
Wasn't that just peachy? Here Harry was offering every last bit of himself to
bloody Voldemort, and his friends were bickering about wedding cakes. Harry
folded the letter and ran a hand over his face. He knew it wasn't fair to blame
Ron and Hermione for anything, seeing as he'd refused their offer to spend the
two weeks at the Dursleys' with him.
Besides, he was the Chosen One, wasn't he? Whatever the hell that meant.
Playing boytoy to a piece of Voldemort's soul, as it turned out. Harry shook
his head, crumbled the letter into a ball, and threw it into a corner of his
room.
Tomorrow he'd better be getting his hands on a Horcrux.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry checked the contents of his bag one last time and looked down at the
locket. "Where to?"
"London," Tom said. Tom had woken him up again, but neither had mentioned their
intimate encounter from the previous day. Harry was grateful for it. He needed
to focus on his upcoming task and thoughts of sex would only distract him.
God, he'd had sex with Voldemort.
Harry shook his head to clear it. "One trip to London coming up," he said, and
concentrated hard. A few dizzying moments later he stood in the kitchen of
twelve Grimmauld Place. It was deserted, as expected, and Harry rushed up the
steps to the corridor.
"Is this the Black house?" Tom asked, and Harry winced. He should have warned
him about --
"FILTHY SCUM, DEFILING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!"
"This is the Black house, yes, and that is Mrs Black," Harry said. "I'm still
looking for a way to get rid of her."
"I can think of a few ways," Tom said, looking pained.
"Remind me later." Harry pulled his baseball cap down to hide his scar, and
opened the front door. Mrs Black's screams cut off once he closed it. He stood
on the pavement and made sure no one was around to overhear him. "I need to do
some shopping first, if that's all right. Get some money, and a few things that
will help disguise me."
"We have plenty of time. My soul isn't going anywhere."
Harry swallowed a chuckle. "We're in Muggle territory, though, so I need to
hide you for a while."
"Very well. Open the locket when you're ready."
"Will do." Harry snapped the locket shut, slid it behind his t-shirt, and
inhaled a deep breath. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this, but what other
choice did he have?
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry glanced at his reflection in a store window. He had to admit that his
plan seemed to work. He didn't look like Harry Potter any longer. The contact
lenses were surprisingly comfortable, and the lady at the optician's had been
most helpful in teaching Harry how to put them in and take them out. The
baseball cap and dark sunglasses shadowed his features, and combined with his
new wardrobe (simple blue jeans and a white t-shirt, but ones that actually
fit), he looked like a Muggle.
Perfect.
He kept one hand in his bag, fingers clutched tightly around his wand, and he
studied the map of London he held in his other hand. Tom had given him an
address, and the map told him he was getting close.
Traffic hurtled by, and Harry took a moment to scan the streets around him.
Muggles walked past him, all busy with their lives. Harry didn't see anyone
lingering nearby or following him as he crossed the street. He took a left turn
and found himself in a narrow, one-way street with old buildings rising on
either side of him. Cars drove slowly across the cobblestone road. Harry
checked his surroundings again, but there were very few pedestrians there and
none looked out of place or behaved suspiciously.
"We're almost there," he whispered. The locket, while tucked away beneath his
t-shirt, was opened. Tom didn't respond, but Harry was sure he'd heard him.
Harry's stomach was in knots and the back of his neck kept itching, as though
it was a warning signal.
And while Harry hadn't seen anything alarming yet, he was on his guard. If he
were Voldemort, he'd definitely have someone keeping an eye on the Horcrux
sites, just in case. But he wasn't Voldemort. No, if anything, Voldemort was
far more paranoid than Harry, which meant there was probably a small army of
Death Eaters waiting for him inside the orphanage Tom had lived in.
Harry checked the numbers on each building, and halfway down Chapel Road he
found number fifteen. It was an immense, square building, fronted by an iron
gate, but it appeared rundown and abandoned, the windows boarded up and the
paint on the door blistering.
"We're here," he said, halting in front of the gate. "Can I just enter it?"
"Yes."
An Alohomora took care of the locks on the gate and the front door, and with
one last glance over his shoulder, Harry sneaked inside. The black and white
tiles on the floor were covered in a generous layer of filth, betraying Harry
wasn't the first one to break into the old orphanage.
A trail of footprints led across the hall towards a door on the other side.
"Shit," Harry said, before he could stop himself. He ripped off his sunglasses,
stuffed them in his bag, and took out his wand. He fished the locket out from
beneath his t-shirt so Tom could see what was going on. Harry squinted. The
footprints looked fresh. "We're not alone."
"Use your cloak," Tom said. "Go to the basement and enter the room on your
right."
"The basement?" Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak and covered himself
quickly. "Is that where those footprints -- "
"Yes."
Splendid.
Harry kept his wand up and walked as quietly as he could across the tiles
towards the door. He opened it, and was pleased the hinges didn't squeak. The
wooden staircase was a different matter, Harry learned as he put his weight on
the first step. A soft creak sounded around him, and to Harry it may as well
have been a bomb exploding. He descended the stairs one foot and one step at a
time, squeezing his eyes shut every time he heard the wood groan beneath him.
Finally he made it to the bottom and stood in a narrow corridor, illuminated
only by what little sunlight penetrated a narrow window high up in the wall
opposite him. Harry took some time to let his eyes adjust, and spotted a closed
door to his right.
He prayed those hinges were as well-oiled as the previous ones, but as he
opened the door he knew he was out of luck. A wailing noise, much like a cat
with his tail trapped, echoed around him. Harry froze, holding his breath, but
no hexes or curses followed.
The room he entered was large, square, and filled almost to the ceiling with
clutter. Old chairs and desks and benches were stacked up around him, leaving
only very little space to navigate. Sunlight was fighting a losing battle with
the three stained, narrow windows high up on the wall to his left, and Harry
was surrounded by near-darkness.
He inhaled a deep, quiet breath, and started forwards through the old
furniture. "Where to?" he whispered.
"Straight ahead to the opposite wall," Tom said so softly Harry hardly heard
him.
They were the most nerve-wracking sixty feet Harry had ever crossed in his
life. He kept expecting Death Eaters to pop up from the rubble around him, and
he held a Killing Curse on the tip of his tongue, not wanting to take any
chances.
Halfway through the room, Harry thought he saw a shadow move in front of him,
and he halted, almost losing his balance. He grasped at a desk beside him, and
released a sigh when no noise followed. He continued his trek, but after three
steps he realized his cloak was caught on the desk and half his body was now
exposed.
The shadow before him turned out not to be a shadow at all as it took shape and
approached him.
"Snape!" Harry gasped, and his mind went into overdrive from shock and nerves
and a cold, desperate need for revenge. The Killing Curse! No, he wanted Snape
to get a taste of his own work. A Sectumsempra!
Just when Harry had made up his mind which curse to use, his wand flew from his
hand and Snape caught it with ease.
Well, crap.
"Mr Potter," Snape said. He didn't look at all surprised to see Harry. If
anything, he seemed pleased.
"You fucking -- " Harry snapped his mouth shut. He wanted to rip into Snape any
way he could, but he realized Tom was there, and he might wonder why Harry was
cursing at one of his followers. " -- scared me," he finished lamely.
Snape curved one eyebrow in response.
"This is the man who killed Dumbledore?" Tom asked, and Harry could hear
curiosity in his voice. "Congratulations, Mr Snape, for ridding the world of a
tenacious nuisance."
Snape froze for a split second as his gaze darted towards the locket. His
stance relaxed again and he inclined his head. "Thank you, my Lord. It was my
pleasure, I assure you."
Harry wanted to do a dozen different things. He wanted to yell and scream and
launch himself at Snape, curl his hands around Snape's neck and squeeze until
those black eyes were nothing more than lifeless pools. But he couldn't do
anything without betraying himself to Tom, and he needed Tom to find the
Horcruxes, and why wasn't Snape killing him or apparating him straight to
Voldemort?
"What the hell are you doing here?" he finally asked, hands balled into fists
beside his body.
"I could ask you the same question, Potter," Snape said. He slipped Harry's
wand in his pocket and kept his own wand aimed at Harry. "As it is, the Dark
Lord asked me to keep an eye on this room, just in case someone dropped by."
"Funny," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Our Lord asked me to do the same
thing." He nodded down at the locket once, and stared hard into Snape's eyes.
Snape's face betrayed nothing, and Harry wished he knew what Snape was
thinking. Of all people, Snape knew Harry would never side with Voldemort and
this was all just a dangerous game he was playing.
So why wasn't Snape calling him on that? He'd killed Dumbledore, for fuck's
sake. If he delivered Harry Potter to Voldemort he'd be lauded a hero for the
rest of his life.
"I see," Snape said, eyes never leaving Harry's. "Well, I suppose two is better
than one."
What? Harry had never been as confused in his life. Nor as frustrated. He was
steps away from the Horcrux, but with Snape there he couldn't get it without
betraying he knew about them, and Snape would take that information straight to
Voldemort, and shit, Snape was a Legilimens and he was probably filtering
through Harry's thoughts right there and then.
Images of his naked body entwined with Tom's and feelings of Tom's cock sliding
so brilliantly against his own surfaced in Harry's mind.
Snape's eyebrows rose, and Harry looked down at once, cheeks heating. Snape
knew what he was doing, what he had done already, and Harry thought he'd
crumble under the weight of embarrassment and shame that filled him.
Snape cleared his throat. "Have you seen anyone else, Potter? Anything
suspicious?"
Snapping his gaze up, Harry looked at Snape in disbelief. Snape was playing
along? Why? "Er...no," he said. "Nothing."
"Then it seems my orders are now obsolete," Snape said, stepping closer. He
addressed the locket. "My Lord, I will take my leave, as I have other, urgent
matters to attend to in your name."
"Certainly," Tom said. "Harry and I will take over from here."
"Praise the Dark Lord," Snape said, and he pressed something in Harry's hand.
His wand, he realized.
"Er...yeah," Harry mumbled, dumbfounded. "Praise him."
Snape swept from the room in quick strides, and by the time Harry had gathered
himself enough to remember to curse him in the back, Snape was already gone.
"Interesting fellow," Tom said.
"Very," Harry replied, still staring at the door in bewilderment. "He gave me
that book I got from Hogwarts. He was my Potions teacher. He's a very strong
wizard. He invented the Sectumsempra curse."
"Did he? Let's hope we'll meet him again soon," Tom said, pleased. "Now,
straight ahead, Harry."
"Right." Harry swayed a little, and tugged his invisibility cloak loose. He
managed to cross the rest of the room with his balance intact.
"Near the floor, there is one brick that is darker than the others," Tom said.
Harry knelt and dared a Lumos, seeing as he didn't expect any more Death Eaters
to drop by. He spotted the brick easily, its copper color a stark contrast
against the red of the wall. "Summon that brick."
Harry flicked his wand and cast a wordless Accio without any problems. He
dropped the brick and shone light into the small crevice. He saw something gold
glittering. "Can I just reach inside?" he asked, remembering Dumbledore's
blackened hand.
"Yes, you can touch it, Harry."
Swallowing, Harry wormed his hand inside the hole and felt cold metal against
his fingertips. He pulled back and stared at the golden cup sitting on the palm
of his hand. Hufflepuff's cup. A whoosh of air escaped Harry in utter relief.
He had the Horcrux. He had another fucking piece of Voldemort's soul. He did a
quick tally in his head. Diary, ring, locket and cup. Four down, only two more
to go.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Tom asked, warmth coloring his voice.
"Yeah," Harry said in all honesty. It might just be the most beautiful thing
he'd ever seen.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
The golden cup sat on Harry's pillow, and Harry lounged on his bed, unable to
stop staring at it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this happy and
proud. He'd found the Horcrux all on his own. Well, sort of. It was his plan, a
dangerous and possibly stupid plan he knew Hermione and Ron would disapprove
of, that had helped him fulfill the first part of Dumbledore's dying wish.
He wanted to kiss that cup, and hold it over his head while he danced around
the room, but he figured Tom would have something to say about that. And
really, he didn't want to go around kissing a piece of Voldemort's soul.
Been there, done that.
"Come visit me, Harry."
And, he suspected, he'd be doing it again. "All right," he said. After all,
yesterday's activities had resulted in a Horcrux. And if Harry was really
honest with himself, he had to admit it hadn't been the end of the world. There
were far worse things that could happen than participating in mind sex. Or
whatever it was they did.
He stuffed the cup under his pillow for good measure, but he'd already cast the
strongest locking charms he knew on his room. No one was getting inside
unnoticed, or unharmed. The pull inside the locket was familiar now, however,
landing inside the small attic room completely starkers was not.
"Not wasting any time, then?" Harry asked, taking in Tom's naked body as he
stood in front of him.
"No need to put off our celebration of a successful mission," Tom said, and
grabbed Harry's hand. At once the scenery changed, and they stood on the grassy
field, the ocean a gentle noise somewhere in the back. The only difference was
the lack of sunlight, but instead the full moon shone down at them,
illuminating them in a faint, bluish light. Millions of stars twinkled in the
sky, and if it hadn't been for Voldemort pulling him close and leaning in for a
kiss, it would have made a damned romantic location.
Harry answered the kiss, feeling too euphoric to care about anything. This was
the first time he kissed Tom while they were both standing, and their height
difference made it an interesting experience. Harry had to tip his chin way up,
and Tom pulled him closer still and wrapped both his arms around Harry. Tom's
mouth moved from Harry's lips to his throat, and it sent a jolt of heat down
his body.
He was getting aroused, genuinely aroused, and it was Tom doing that to him.
When the first flutter of anxiety tickled the inside of Harry's chest, Harry
reminded himself why he was doing this, and that thought did make everything
much easier.
Tom eased them both down to the grass, but he didn't lay down on top of Harry
as Harry expected him to do. Tom sat kneeling beside him.
"We'll try something new today," Tom said, allowing his gaze to roam across
every inch of Harry's body. It made Harry want to cover his privates. "Don't
worry. You'll enjoy this as much as you enjoyed yesterday's coupling."
And then Tom did something entirely unexpected. He lay down with his head the
wrong way, and all of a sudden Harry was staring at an impressive erection.
"Just do as I do, Harry," Tom said.
The next thing Harry knew was a bombardment of heat around the most sensitive
part of his body. His mind blanked out - minutes, hours, years, Harry couldn't
be sure. He knew nothing besides a moist heat sucking on him. Honestly,
Armageddon could be upon them and he wouldn't have noticed.
When he came to and his eyes showed him something besides flashes of light all
across the spectrum, Harry saw Tom grinning at him, Harry's cock still in his
mouth.
SweetJezusVoldemortwassuckinghiscock!
There ought to be a law against Dark Lords making you feel that spectacular.
For a brief second Harry wished Voldemort, whichever piece of him, would just
go back to trying to kill him. Then he was lost under the weight of sheer
pleasure again.
Until it stopped.
Harry stared up at the night's sky and wondered if the world had spun off its
axle.
"I'd appreciate a little repayment, Harry."
"Yeah, sorry," Harry said, vaguely remembering Tom telling him that earlier. "I
was a little distracted."
Tom chuckled, and gave the head of Harry's cock a teasing lick, a promise of
what was to come.
Harry propped himself up on his elbow and inhaled a deep breath. Sucking a
cock. It couldn't be that hard. Though the idea was a little daunting and
strangely unhygienic, until Harry reminded himself it wasn't real. He was just
going to think he was sucking a cock.
Mind sex did have its advantages, Harry mused. He was quite sure he'd never put
a real penis in his mouth, but he could manage to think he did.
Besides, he wanted Voldemort's mouth back on his own cock. And he hadn't just
thought that.
Quickly, before his own thoughts drove him insane, Harry wrapped his fingers
around Tom's cock and sucked the head into his mouth. At once the heat returned
to his own prick and all was well in the world.
Harry mimicked whatever he felt happening to his own body as best he could. He
dragged his tongue across the underside of Tom's cock, twirled it around the
head, and sucked as much inside his mouth as his throat allowed. He cupped
Tom's balls, gently rolling them against his palm, and from the groans he heard
he knew he was doing a decent, if somewhat messy, job of it.
It all ended too soon, at least for him. He was no match for Tom's wicked mouth
and tongue. He bucked his hips and clung to Tom's thigh with one hand, Tom's
cock still buried deep inside his mouth, and he came with a guttural groan,
spilling himself in Tom's throat.
Tom didn't release him immediately, but kept kissing and licking up and down
Harry's spent prick. Harry continued his own task, and sucked hard and deep,
moving his head up and down faster and faster until he felt Tom stiffen under
his touch and his mouth flooded with salty semen.
He swallowed - it wasn't real semen, after all - and pulled away, wiping at his
mouth with the back of his hand. Exhausted, he flopped down on the grass,
inhaling huge breaths. Tom shifted and lay down beside Harry, shoulder to
shoulder.
"Good?" Tom asked.
"Yeah," Harry sighed. He saw no reason to lie. His body had already given him
away.
"I agree." Tom leaned closer, his face hovering above Harry's. "You have a
talented mouth." He pressed a light kiss to Harry's lips. "And you should
consider yourself lucky. I don't do that for just anyone."
Harry believed him. Knowing Voldemort, his ego probably got in the way under
most circumstances. He chuckled and smiled at Tom. "I don't do that for just
anyone either, you know."
"You'd better not." Tom gave Harry's bottom lip a playful bite. "I don't like
sharing my toys."
And just as Harry had started to feel a bit comfortable around Tom he was back
to being acutely aware he was nothing more than a servant in Tom's eyes, a
convenience with a talented mouth.
And really, it didn't surprise him. It did remind him why he was there. "So,"
he said, as Tom stretched out beside him. "When are we going to get the next
Horcrux?"
"Not right away. Too risky."
Harry raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
"We can't be sure you weren't followed by one of Dumbledore's supporters," Tom
said, all traces of his previous teasing mood gone. His eyes were narrowed as
he looked at Harry. "It is best to wait a few days, a week, before we make our
next move."
"All right," Harry said. Yes, if it were up to him they'd be collecting the
next Horcrux at once, but he knew not to argue with Tom, not now everything was
going so well, considering.
"I have a wedding next week, though," he said, glancing at Tom. "There will be
a lot of Dumbledore supporters, so I'll have to keep you in my trunk while I'm
there. If anyone spots the locket around my neck we'll be in big trouble."
"Very well. When you're there you can try to find out, inconspicuously, if any
of them are on the trail of my Horcruxes."
"Sure, I can do that."
"You please me, Harry," Tom said, smiling. "I will be sure to let my living
self know when the time comes."
Harry swallowed. He knew that was a compliment, especially coming from someone
like Tom, but the idea of the real Voldemort finding out about his plan made
his stomach turn. Not that Tom wasn't the real Voldemort.
"After the wedding I can move into my London house. Things will be even easier
for us then," Harry said, trying to move the conversation away from Tom's
living self.
"We'll get my next Horcrux then."
"Okay." Harry looked at Tom. "What do I do in the meantime?"
Tom's lips curved up in a salacious grin. "I can think of a few things," he
said, flicking the tip of his finger across Harry's nipple.
"Again? Now?"
"If you're up for it."
Harry glanced down his body. Yeah, he was getting there. "All right."
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry was sound asleep in his bed when something tickled his nose. He tried
swatting it away, but a soft hoot woke him up completely. Hedwig sat on his bed
beside his head, a small scrap of parchment clutched in her beak.
Blinking, Harry glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning. Who was
sending him notes at that ungodly hour?
He rubbed his eyes, accepted the note, and squinted to make out the words.
Meet me at the park down the street at once. Alone!
It wasn't signed, but Harry recognized the handwriting. He'd seen it on many a
Potions essay, usually in red ink.
What the hell did Snape want from him? Perhaps he'd come to his senses after
his strange display that afternoon and wanted to kill Harry once and for all.
Well, if Snape wanted him, he could have him. Harry had a score to settle with
him, after all.
Snape wanted to see him alone, though, and Harry thought he knew what Snape
meant by that. He glanced down his chest. The locket was closed, and before he
could change his mind Harry slipped it off and shoved it under his pillow. He
got up, stepped into his slippers and reached for his wand and invisibility
cloak. He wasn't going to bother with his contact lenses now, so he put his
glasses on and sneaked out of the house.
As expected, the street was quiet and deserted. Even though it was July the
night was a bit chilly with only his cloak and pajama bottoms to keep him warm.
Harry rushed towards the small park, trying to keep his footsteps silent on the
pavement. He didn't see Snape anywhere on the stretch of grass and suspected he
was hiding in the line of trees.
He wasn't going to hesitate now. He was going for a Killing Curse. Or maybe
he'd go for a Stupefy first, so he could truss Snape up and ask him about his
odd behavior earlier that day. And then he'd kill him.
As he crossed the damp grass, he spotted a figure hiding beneath an impressive
birch tree. A tall figure with a wand, which flicked every few seconds, left,
right, front and back.
It had to be Snape, and Harry crept closer, wondering what Snape was doing with
his wand.
He knew the moment his invisibility cloak flew off, followed only seconds later
by his wand.
Damn everything to hell! Harry hated wordless magic.
"Predictable, Potter," Snape said, approaching Harry with quick steps. Before
Harry could even think of defending himself with his hands and feet, Snape
grabbed Harry around the throat, pushing him back against a tree until he was
pressing Harry against it with his entire body, his face half an inch from
Harry's.
"You complete imbecile!" Snape snarled, and Harry gaped at him. "If you for one
second think you can play the Dark Lord you really need to think again,
Potter!"
"What?" Harry gasped. Snape's hand was cutting off most of his air supply.
"That locket! What on earth are you playing at? I don't know what you think
you're doing, but the Dark Lord is playing you like a cheap violin and once
he's done with you he'll crush you, Potter!"
And then Snape actually hit Harry on his head with his wand, once, twice, until
Harry winced and tried to move away.
"Why aren't you killing me?" he asked, feeling even more confused than that
afternoon. Snape was lecturing him? Why?
"If I wanted to kill you, Potter, I'd have done it the night I fled Hogwarts,
you utter fool!"
Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Snape this angry before, and that included
the time in the Shrieking Shack when Snape had been near-psychotic.
"Your job is to find and destroy those Horcruxes, Potter, not play fucktoy for
the Dark Lord."
Shit. Snape knew about the Horcruxes. Double shit. But why did Snape know about
them?
"I'm doing that," Harry whispered. "I'm doing what Dumbledore told me to do.
How else am I supposed to find them?" Harry knew he was saying things he
shouldn't be telling a Death Eater, but he was so bewildered it was easy to
forget Snape wasn't in the Order anymore.
"Curse you, Albus," Snape said, quieter now. He looked down and shook his head.
"What did the Headmaster tell you about finding the Horcruxes, Potter?"
"Like I'm telling you, you fucking murderer," Harry said, kicking against
Snape's shin. Snape didn't move a muscle.
"Potter, I don't have time for this. You need to destroy that locket as soon as
you can. Tonight! And then you need to go out and find the rest of the
Horcruxes. Once you've destroyed them all, you contact me, understood?"
"Contact you?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"I think I have already proved I have no intention of killing you or handing
you over to the Dark Lord." Snape briefly closed his eyes. "Look, Potter, if
you need any assistance in this mission, you may contact me. Just send me a
note, don't sign it, and don't use your own owl. I'll know it's from you."
"But -- "
"Destroy that locket!" Snape released him, dropped Harry's wand to the ground,
and took a few steps back. With a crack he disapparated.
Harry stared into the darkness, rubbing at his sore throat. For a Death Eater
loyal to Voldemort Snape certainly was acting very peculiar. Because why would
a loyal Death Eater tell him to destroy a piece of Voldemort's soul?
Sighing, Harry picked up his invisibility cloak and his wand. Destroy the
locket? That would be a whole lot easier if Harry actually knew how to destroy
it, but no one bothered to tell him that.
Besides, if he destroyed the locket he wouldn't be getting his hands on another
Horcrux next week. He needed that locket, no matter what Snape said.
And who was he kidding here. Snape was a fucking murderer. Harry wasn't going
to do anything he said. He'd take his chances with Tom. It had already earned
him one Horcrux, after all.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Tom Riddle was a nudist at heart, Harry decided. Every time Harry visited him
inside the locket - and he had visited him quite often the past week -- they
ended up without their clothes on, lying in the grass near the sea.
It had been the most surreal holiday Harry had ever had. He spent half his time
practicing magic in his bedroom. He cast curses and hexes from the books Tom
had stolen from Hogwarts, he studied Snape's Potions book and found a few more
interesting spells, and he perfected his wordless magic.
He was now able to cast a wordless Killing Curse. He'd see how Snape liked that
next time he saw the bastard.
The other half of his time he spent inside the locket with Tom, getting frisky.
Mind sex was the norm. Harry enjoyed it, so much so he mostly forgot why he was
doing it until he was back in his bedroom and saw physical proof of his
mission.
He spent at least half an hour a day staring at Hufflepuff's cup.
Harry felt bolder now. Having sex with someone several times a day for a week
did that to a person, he figured. Tom lay stretched out beside him, and Harry
leaned over him, burying his fingers in Tom's hair. Tom's eyes were closed, but
a smile tugged on his lips, evidence he enjoyed Harry's small attentions.
Tom had nice hair. Black as coal, thick, yet soft. Harry let it tickle his
fingers before he trailed them down Tom's temple to his cheek and chin. Tom was
a handsome man, with dark eyebrows, eyes that were green one moment and brown
the next - and sometimes red, but Harry tried not to think about that - a sharp
nose and full lips that knew how to kiss Harry so his toes curled. He was tall,
and he was muscled just enough to tone his body.
Harry could stare at him all day, privately wondering how a bloke like this had
turned into the monster Harry had seen rise from a cauldron two years ago.
"What are you thinking, Harry? You seem so serious." Tom had opened his eyes,
and his keen gaze was fixed on Harry's face.
Harry shrugged. "Why do you always take us here?"
"I like the sea," Tom said, raising one hand and stroking it down Harry's arm.
"I didn't get to see enough of it when I grew up."
That made Harry smile. Tom could be so bloody human and it was easy to think
that was all there was to him at moments like these. "Me neither," he said,
lying down on his side. He kept his hand resting on Tom's chest, feeling it
rise and fall with steady breaths. "My family never took me anywhere."
Tom nodded his understanding and glanced at Harry. "Tell me a secret."
"Huh?"
Rolling onto his side, Tom pressed a kiss to Harry's lips. "I'll tell you a
secret if you tell me one."
Harry's curiosity was piqued. "All right. You start."
Tom licked his lips, sliding an arm and leg over Harry's body, pulling him
close. Harry didn't mind. "Back in the orphanage they locked me up in a coal
shed whenever they caught me," Tom said. "I hated it at first. It was dark and
cramped and filthy. But after a while, I let myself get caught deliberately,
just so they would throw me in that shed. It made me feel..."
"Safe," Harry whispered, eyes widening. "That's how I felt about that bloody
cupboard."
Tom nuzzled Harry's cheek. "It seems we have more in common than one might
think. Your turn."
Harry thought for a moment, his mind still reeling from Tom's confession. "I
never told anyone," he said. "About what the Dursleys did to me, I mean. It
seems stupid, right? When I got to Hogwarts, I should have told someone, but I
didn't."
"It doesn't seem stupid at all," Tom said, stroking his hand up and down
Harry's back. "They wouldn't have cared. They put you there in the first place,
didn't they?"
Worrying his bottom lip, Harry nodded. He'd never looked at it like that
before.
"But it's all over, Harry. Tomorrow that all ends for you, and you can finally
make your own decisions."
"Yeah."
"And I'll be stuck in your trunk for two days." Tom tightened their embrace.
"I'll miss you."
Harry wasn't sure what to make of that, though warmth settled in his belly. Not
the heat of arousal, but something soothing and unfamiliar. "Yeah, it's going
to be different for a while," he finally said. Ron and Hermione and the
Weasleys seemed worlds away as he was lying there in Voldemort's arms. It
nagged at Harry, somehow, that he couldn't even imagine being with Ron and
Hermione.
"I should go," he said, trying to move away from Tom, but Tom didn't release
him.
"Stay, Harry."
"Stay?"
Tom smiled and pressed a few kisses to Harry's cheek and lips. "Yes, stay here
with me, just for the night."
Harry glanced up at the dark sky. "Won't it get cold?"
"No," Tom said, and at once they were covered with a thick blanket.
"Neat trick." Harry chuckled and burrowed deeper under the soft fabric.
"Thank you." Tom shifted to lean his cheek on top of Harry's head. "Stay?"
"Yeah."
                                   *0*0*0*0*
The doorbell chimed at exactly noon, but even so, Harry kept his wand at the
ready while he opened the door just a crack. He saw Hermione's bushy hair, but
still his stomach clenched.
"Hey, Harry!" Hermione said, beaming.
"What did you steal from Snape's private stock in our second year?" Harry
asked, remembering those silly security questions. They didn't seem so silly
anymore, though.
Hermione's cheeks flushed, and she glanced over her shoulder at where Mr
Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood. "Harry! Can't you ask a different
question?"
"Nope. Answer it," Harry said, grinning.
"Boomslang skin," Hermione whispered, and Harry opened the door to let everyone
in.
"Nice one, mate," Ron said, walking in after Hermione.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Kingsley said, returning Harry's grin. "How
are you, Harry?"
"All right, thanks," Harry said, feeling suddenly shy. Kingsley was very fit.
Strange he'd never noticed that before. Tom and his queerness must be rubbing
off on him.
"What happened to your glasses?" Hermione asked.
"I got contact lenses."
"Contact what?" Ron asked, confused.
"I'll explain later," Hermione whispered, patting Ron's arm. "It looks good,
Harry."
"Thanks."
"We still have a few minutes before the Portkey activates." Mr Weasley closed
the door. "All packed, Harry?"
"Yep." Harry gestured towards his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage on top of it.
"I sent Hedwig ahead. I didn't think she'd like Portkeys much."
"Your family's not here?" Kingsley asked. Harry shook his head. "Do you want to
leave a note or something?"
"No, not really."
Kingsley arched an eyebrow. "You sure? They might think something bad happened
if you just disappear like that."
"I know," Harry said, shrugging. "Why ruin their fun?"
An awkward silence followed until Hermione cleared her throat. "So, how are
you, Harry?"
"I really am fine. I'll tell you later," he replied. Ron gave him a knowing
look. "But what's been going on in the wizarding world?"
"You haven't heard?" Hermione asked, her face paling.
"Heard what?"
"There's been an attack on Hogsmeade," Kingsley said, calm as ever. "There were
fatalities."
"Hogsmeade? When?" Harry's stomach was in knots and he thought he needed to sit
down. Kingsley placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and that gave him enough
strength to keep standing.
"Four days ago," Ron said, staring at his shoes. "Dumbledore's brother got
killed."
"Aberforth? Huh?"
"He ran the Hog's Head. They went after Zonko's and Honeydukes, too. They even
got the Shrieking Shack. There's nothing left of it," Ron said miserably. "Why
would anyone go after Honeydukes?"
Harry's mouth dropped open. "Did he get into Hogwarts?"
Kingsley narrowed his eyes. "No. Why?"
"The secret passageways!" Harry all but yelled. "Voldemort knows all those
secret passageways and now he's destroyed them. So maybe he didn't want to get
into Hogwarts himself, but he's making sure no one else is sneaking in,
either." Harry clutched his head in his hands. "Oh, this is brilliant, isn't
it? All he has to do now is guard the main gates and Hogwarts is useless to
us."
"Dear Merlin," Mr Weasley whispered.
"And I knew!" Harry continued. "I knew Voldemort knew about that passageway
below Honeydukes!"
"How?" Kingsley asked.
"Er..." Harry gestured vaguely at his scar. "But I thought he might try to
break into Hogwarts himself. I had no idea he was going to cut it off for
everyone else. I should have written to McGonagall!"
"Harry," Kingsley said, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "You couldn't have known.
No one saw this coming."
Harry's whole body was trembling and he couldn't stop it. "But I should have
told someone! I wanted to, but I couldn't write to any of you or McGonagall.
Everyone knows Hedwig's my owl and this wasn't the kind of information you want
to fall into the wrong hands."
"It wasn't your fault," Kingsley whispered.
"I know that!" Harry narrowed his eyes. "I was stuck here and that wasn't my
choice, was it? It never has been, but my whole life everyone expected me to
cut myself off from everything and live with these fucking Muggles who never
wanted me in the first place!"
Gasping, Hermione clasped a hand over her mouth.
"That's enough," Kingsley said, voice deepening to a rumble.
"Sorry." Harry stared at the floor and inhaled ragged breaths. "It's
just...it's been a very frustrating two weeks."
"The Portkey," Mr Weasley said, giving everyone an apologetic smile as he held
out an old newspaper. "Less than a minute now."
"I'll take that," Kingsley said as Harry reached for his trunk.
"No!" Harry pushed Kingsley's hand away. "All my stuff is in there," he added
by way of explanation. "I'd rather hold onto it myself." He didn't care for
most of his stuff, but the locket and the cup were in there and Harry'd be
damned if he let anyone else close to them. Too much was at stake.
"All right." Kingsley gave Harry an odd look as they reached for the newspaper,
but before Harry could figure out what to make of it, a sharp pull whisked them
all away to the Burrow.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
"Aren't you going to unpack?" Ron asked.
Harry sat on the cot in Ron's room and looked at Ron and Hermione, both seated
on Ron's bed. "No. I'm not staying."
"What?" Hermione asked. "But how are we -- "
"Look, it's very simple," Harry said, raising a hand to silence his friends.
"With Dumbledore dead, who do you think moved back to the top of Voldemort's
hit list? No offense, Ron, but your house isn't safe. It's not safe for me, and
me being here isn't safe for any of you."
Ron stared down, understanding dawning on his face. Hermione, however, was
persistent. "But, Harry, how are we going to find -- "
"Voldemort is going to come after me sooner or later. And honestly, do you want
your entire family around when that happens, Ron?" Harry glanced at Hermione.
"Do you want Ron and Ginny around when he comes for me?"
Hermione finally nodded. "Where will you stay?"
"I have a house in London. Sirius left it to me, remember?"
Hermione's eyes widened. "We can all stay at Grimmauld Place. You're right,
it's a perfect hideout while we -- "
"No, Hermione. I'm doing this alone."
"Harry, we've been over this before. You don't have to -- "
"Because the three of us stand out too much," Harry said. He'd been over this
conversation a dozen times in his head during the last week. "The three of us
tramping around Britain looking for pieces of his soul...someone will notice.
Alone, I can keep a reasonably low profile."
Hermione shook her head. "Honestly, how are you going to find all those
Horcruxes by yourself without any help?"
Irritation flared to life in Harry's chest. If only they knew, and at that
moment Harry was tempted to tell them. But he couldn't. It put himself at risk
and it put his friends at risk. The less people knew about his strange
understanding with his piece of Voldemort's soul, the better.
Besides, he really did not want to explain to his friends what price he was
paying for Tom's information.
"Leave that to me," Harry said stiffly.
Hermione frowned. "Did Dumbledore tell you something that -- "
"I can't tell you, I'm sorry. But I do need your help. I need to figure out how
to destroy the Horcruxes once I find them."
"Oh!" Hermione perked up. "I have been giving that some thought and I've come
up with a theory."
"She's been talking about nothing else," Ron said, and he grinned at Hermione.
"Voldemort is an exception," Hermione said, and Harry leaned forward, eager to
hear her thoughts. "We have to start with the concept of a person separating
only one piece of their soul into a Horcrux. Now, in order to kill that person,
they have to become mortal again."
"We know all this," Harry said, impatient, but Hermione shushed him.
"As long as their soul is split up, they are immortal. My theory is that when
you destroy a Horcrux, you only destroy the magic containing it. The vessel, if
you will. The piece of soul inside it is released and will rejoin the broken
soul inside the body. And at that moment, when the soul is complete again, the
person becomes mortal and can be killed."
Harry stared at Hermione with his mouth opened. He slowly closed it. "So in
Voldemort's case, those six pieces of his soul need to rejoin the one in his
body before he becomes mortal again?"
"Exactly! That also explains why he can't be killed if just one Horcrux remains
intact. He'll only be mortal with all the pieces of his soul joined together in
his body."
"That makes sense," Harry said.
Hermione beamed. "And that also gives us a clue about how we can destroy the
Horcruxes, or rather, release the pieces of soul from the Horcruxes and force
them back into Voldemort's body."
"It does?" Harry asked, confused.
Hermione's look became grave. "The Killing Curse, Harry. It separates the soul
from the body, killing a person instantly, or in the case of a Horcrux it
separates the piece of soul from the vessel. Or at least I think it will."
"All right. Then I'll learn how to cast the Killing Curse." Harry didn't feel
like explaining he already could. He knew Hermione would disapprove.
Hermione glanced at Ron, who gave a slight nod. "Harry, we've been thinking
about that. The Killing Curse is very dark magic, as well you know, so maybe we
should ask someone else to destroy the Horcruxes for you. Tonks or Kingsley or
even Moody, they know how to cast it. They're Aurors."
"No, Hermione," Harry said, narrowing his eyes. "No one else learns about the
Horcruxes, do you understand? If Voldemort finds out we know about them, he'll
collect them and keep them close or hide them on the other side of the planet
or something. And everything will be lost then." Harry sighed. "Besides, I
promised Dumbledore I'd find and destroy them myself."
Worrying her lip, Hermione glanced at Ron. Shrugging, Ron said, "Tell him about
Regulus."
"Regulus?"
"Oh!" Hermione's face lit up again. "I'm quite sure that R.A.B. is Regulus
Black, Sirius' brother."
Harry's mouth sank open again. Well, that certainly explained how the locket
had ended up in Mundungus' suitcase.
"That means the Horcrux might be at Grimmauld Place," Hermione continued.
"Remember that locket we found when we were cleaning up? I think that's the
Horcrux, Harry!"
"Wow," Harry said, and he had trouble not bursting out in laughter. "That's
good news. I'll look for it the first chance I get tomorrow after the wedding."
"So you are staying for the wedding?" Ron asked.
"Of course. I'll leave tomorrow evening." Harry smiled at his friends, relieved
he might have found a way to destroy the Horcruxes. Only two more to find, and
one of them was within his grasp already. Tom had promised him to get it as
soon as he moved into Grimmauld Place.
Yep, things were really looking up, Harry thought.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Weddings were boring. The only good thing about them was the food. Harry
finished his fifth piece of wedding cake, and he had to conclude - though he'd
take it to the grave with him - that the cake from Paris really was the most
delicious thing he'd ever tasted.
The guests were leaving, and Harry followed Ron and Hermione back into the
house. Mrs Weasley bustled around the kitchen, but stopped when she spotted
Harry.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked, for the umpteenth time. "I can come over
tomorrow and clean out a bedroom for you."
"Thanks, but I can manage," Harry said. He appreciated Mrs Weasley's concern,
but he had bigger plans for the next day. He had a Horcrux to collect.
"How will you go?" Hermione asked, frowning.
"I'll apparate."
"Harry, you won't be seventeen until next week. You haven't your license yet."
Harry gave her a very tired look. "We're at war, Hermione. A license isn't very
high up on my list of priorities."
"How about the Ministry? Have you considered that you're not allowed to do any
magic yet, including apparition?"
"I've got it taken care of," Harry said, and added softly. "You really think
Dumbledore didn't have a way around that for me?"
"Fine. Just don't get splinched," Hermione said. Ron looked down to hide a
grin.
"Here." Mrs Weasley pushed a large paper bag in Harry's hands. "Just some food
to see you through tomorrow. Do remember to go shopping. And if you have any
laundry, you can bring it here, if you like."
"Thank you." Harry offered her a warm smile. "I'll be off, then." Mrs Weasley
returned the smile, wringing her hands in a tea towel.
Harry walked up the stairs to Ron's bedroom, Ron and Hermione only a step
behind him. Ginny lingered in the upstairs hallway, but Harry couldn't quite
look at her. Every time he saw her he remembered Tom was a much better kisser
than her, and really, that was a horrible thing to think. Harry rather chose to
ignore the whole issue by just not looking at her.
"Thanks," Harry said, grabbing his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage. Hedwig would
meet him at the house. "For all your help so far."
"I'll keep looking into the issue, and if I find something I'll let you know,"
Hermione said.
"Take care." Ron clapped him on the back. "We'll see you soon."
"Be careful," Hermione whispered. Harry nodded once, and apparated to Grimmauld
Place.
The first thing he saw was absolutely nothing. Then a flash of lightning
briefly illuminated the room, followed a few seconds later by a loud clap of
thunder, rattling the cups in the kitchen cabinet. It seemed Bill and Fleur had
been lucky with the weather.
Harry reached for his wand and lit the gas lamps on the wall with a flick. That
was much better. He looked around the room for a moment, and sank down in one
of the chairs at the kitchen table. The kitchen looked grimy, everything
covered with a thin layer of dust.
Tracing a crooked line in the dust with one finger, Harry was suddenly overcome
with an enormous bout of longing for Sirius. He remembered one evening during
the Christmas holidays in his fifth year, when he and Sirius and Lupin had sat
at that very table, everyone else already down for the night. Sirius had told
him so many stories about his Hogwarts years, about his father and mother, and
Harry had laughed until tears streamed down his face.
Lupin hadn't been at the wedding that day, though Tonks had assured Harry he
was fine. Just tied up in Order work. Harry knew what that meant. Undercover
work with the werewolves.
Harry wiped at his eyes, hit with the realization he was all alone in that big
old house. Well, that wasn't quite true. Harry kicked his trunk open, and
reached down to pull out the black sock he'd hidden at the bottom. He'd made
sure it was a clean sock, feeling oddly uncomfortable with hiding Tom in a
dirty one.
Releasing a sigh, Harry slipped the chain around his neck and clicked the
locket open.
"Hello, Harry," Tom said. "How are you?"
"Stuffed," Harry said, smiling. "The wedding cake was great. The rest was
boring."
Tom laughed, and Harry instantly felt less lonely.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
"BLOOD TRAITORS! FREAKS! SCUM!"
"We should really do something about that portrait," Tom said, as Harry dropped
his trunk in the corridor and sighed.
"It's got a permanent sticking charm on it. There's no way to get it down."
"FILTH! ABOMINATIONS!"
"Get it down?" Tom asked. Harry could hardly hear him over all the noise Mrs
Black was making. "My advice is to burn it."
"MUTANTS. HOW DARE -- " Mrs Black snapped her mouth shut and stared at them
with wide eyes.
"Wow, you actually managed to shut her up," Harry said, grinning.
"Try Incendio, Harry."
"NO!" Mrs Black screamed, but Harry felt a bitter sort of justice when he
raised his wand. Sirius hated that portrait. Hell, everyone hated that
portrait.
"Incendio!"
The flames engulfed the portrait at once, and Mrs Black's desperate screams
soon turned to weak sobs. The paint blistered and cracked, and when the fire
reached as high as the ceiling Harry flicked his wand again.
"Aguamenti!"
Water sprayed from his wand, and the flames died with a hiss, steam billowing
around them. When it cleared, all Harry could see was a large torched smear on
the wall where the portrait had once been. It made him smile.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Rain clattered against the window, occasionally interrupted by the rumble of
thunder. Harry pulled the curtains shut, trusting that Hedwig had found a place
to sit out the summer storm that had been raging for the last hour. He sat down
on the bed and surveyed his handiwork. He'd chosen Sirius' old bedroom, and it
was now dust-free with fresh linens on the large bed.
Harry kicked off his trainers. "So tomorrow, we get another Horcrux?"
"Yes."
"All right." Harry pulled off the rest of his clothes, save for his boxers, and
slipped under the sheets. He flicked his wand to turn off the lamp, and lay in
the darkness, eyes wide open.
The room lit up as lightning struck outside, and Harry flicked his wand again,
turning the lights back on. He knew he was safe here. The house was still under
the Fidelius; Mr Weasley had assured them that when Mrs Weasley had first
protested Harry's decision, and the Order had found no other spells or
enchantments. No one could get to him while he was there.
"Feeling uncomfortable?" Tom asked, the locket lying opened against Harry's
bare chest.
"Yeah."
"You're welcome to spend the night with me."
Harry didn't think twice. He held the locket up to his face and moments later
he stood opposite Tom in the attic room. Tom smiled, placed his hands on
Harry's cheeks, and gave him a long, hard kiss.
"I'm glad you're back."
"Yeah," Harry said, and smiled when they suddenly stood on the grassy slopes
under a dark, cloudless sky. They lay down, covered by a thick blanket, and
Harry shifted closer, bathing in Tom's warmth.
"Tired?" Tom asked, stroking his hand down Harry's back.
"Exhausted."
"Get some sleep then."
And Harry did.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Harry stood in the middle of Privet Drive and watched flames eating away at the
Dursleys' house, the Dark Mark glowing green in the sky above. Rain poured
down, but the flames kept rising and rising --
"Wake up. Someone's coming."
Opening his eyes, Harry saw Tom looking down at him. They were in the attic
room, curled up in the bed.
"Harry, you have to leave now. Someone's in your house."
That spurred Harry into action. He dashed out of bed, through the door, and
found himself in his bed at Grimmauld Place. Footsteps rushed up the stairs,
and Harry just had time to turn on his stomach to hide the locket before his
bedroom door flew open and Ron and Hermione ran inside.
"Harry," Hermione said, out of breath. "There's been -- "
"Jesus Christ!" Harry snapped, curling up in a ball so they wouldn't see the
locket around his neck. "I was having a wank!"
Without comment, Ron grabbed Hermione's elbow and steered her out the bedroom.
"We'll see you in the kitchen, mate," he called from halfway down the stairs.
"Nice save," Tom said once Harry sat up.
"Thanks. I need to hide you now. See what they want." He didn't wait for Tom's
reply, certain Tom understood, and clicked the locket shut. He shoved it under
his pillow and went in search of his clothes.
As he sat down to pull his trainers on, he noticed the soles were covered in
mud. Harry frowned. He couldn't remember stepping in any mud last night. Maybe
at the Weasleys? He wasn't sure.
He shrugged and pulled them on. He had more important things to think about.
Why were Ron and Hermione there all of a sudden?
He got his answer when he entered the kitchen.
"Harry, the Dursleys were attacked last night," Hermione said. "Their house
burned down."
Harry's body went slack and for a minute he couldn't move. "What?"
"The Muggle press says it's a gas leak, but the Dark Mark hung over the house
when Aurors got there. It was Voldemort."
Harry sank down in a chair, suddenly cold. "I dreamed that," he said, rubbing
his hands over his face. "I haven't had a dream from Voldemort in ages, but
last night I dreamed about the Dursleys' house going up in flames. Are they..."
"They're dead," Ron said, shoulders hunched. "All of them. Sorry."
Harry didn't say anything for a while. He'd never liked them, but he hadn't
wished them dead, either. "How did Voldemort find that place? I thought he
couldn't go there?"
"Well," Hermione said, leaning forward in her chair. "I think it's because you
left, Harry. The magic protected you while you were living there. But two days
ago, you officially left to go live here. Magic is strange like that."
"So Voldemort was after me, and he could finally approach that house, but since
I wasn't there he just killed my whole family?"
"Something like that. I'm so sorry, Harry."
"Yeah, me, too." Harry got up from his chair, uncertain what to do. He walked
towards the counter, noticed the kettle, and turned back to his friends. "Tea?"
"Sure," Ron said.
Harry put the kettle on, and found a few dried-out tea bags in a tin can in the
pantry. He washed out a couple of chipped cups, and poured them all a cup of
tea.
"You were right, Harry," Hermione said, sipping her cup. "It seems Voldemort
has put you back up on top of his hit list."
Harry nodded. This wasn't really news to him.
"But now that Voldemort is once again actively hunting you, it might not be
smart for you to go after his Horcruxes right away." Hermione gave him a
pleading look.
"I'll be fine," Harry said, sighing. He knew his friends were worried for him,
and he appreciated that, but for once he wished they'd have a little faith in
him as well.
"Just take someone with you," Hermione said, voice pitching. "One of us, or
Fred or George, or Mr Weasley, or even Kingsley. We're all willing to help
you."
"I have sources." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, only now realizing he
wasn't wearing his glasses and he hadn't had time for his contacts. "Very good
sources that I can't tell you about because it is too risky." Hermione wanted
to object again, Harry could tell, but Harry pulled out his wand, aimed it at
the door, and thought, Accio Hufflepuff's cup.
There was no harm in his friends knowing he got that Horcrux. They were the
only ones in the house, after all.
The cup came flying through the door and Harry caught it with one hand. He put
it down on the table in front of Ron and Hermione, tucked his wand away, and
leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
Hermione's mouth sank open. "Is that..."
"Yep," Harry said, grinning.
"So that is a piece of Voldemort's soul?" Ron bent a little closer and reached
out his hand to touch it. "It doesn't look like much, does it?"
Hermione's hand shot out. "Ron, don't -- "
An explosion of sheer power followed, throwing Harry backwards, chair and all.
Yellow smoke filled the kitchen, making it hard to breathe. Harry lay dazed on
the broken remains of the chair and it took him a few moments to remember where
he was and what had happened.
Ron had touched the Horcrux.
Ron had - Ron? Ron!
Harry scrambled to his hands and knees, cutting his palms as he shuffled
through broken glass and porcelain in search of his two best friends. The smoke
made it difficult to see, and Harry felt around until he found Hermione's arm.
"Hermione?" His voice was raw, and he coughed to clear his throat. "Wake up."
Hermione lay still, her face ghostly pale. Harry checked her chest and saw
movement, although her breathing was shallow.
"Ron?" Harry called. The smoke was slowly clearing, and Harry saw a mop of
singed red hair sticking out from under the table top. The table's legs had
snapped off like tiny twigs. Harry pushed the wooden slab off Ron and gasped.
Ron's face was black and blistered, much like Dumbledore's hand had looked.
Harry put a hand on Ron's chest, smearing blood all over his t-shirt. He
couldn't feel it rising or falling.
"Ron?" He shook Ron's body, but he got no response.
What was he supposed to do? Get help, but he didn't know what curse had been on
that cup. And why hadn't it cursed him? He'd touched it a hundred times over
the past week.
Of course. Tom knew what curse it was. He'd cast it. Harry checked his pocket,
relieved his wand was still there. He aimed it in the direction where he
thought the door was and yelled with all his might, "Accio Slytherin's locket!"
It sailed right into his hand a few moments later, and Harry snapped it open.
"Harry?" Tom frowned, apparently taking in Harry's disheveled appearance.
"What's wrong?"
"What curse is on the cup? Someone touched it, and he's not breathing."
"I shouldn't expect so, no," Tom said. "I cooked that curse up myself. It is
designed to kill, Harry. It is the same curse I used on Marvolo's ring."
Harry's eyes fell shut, and it cost him to open them again. "Counter-curse?"
"There isn't one."
"No," Harry gasped, and his shoulders shook. "But I touched it."
"Of course you did. We are connected, Harry. That curse won't hurt either one
of us."
"Oh God." Harry couldn't breathe.
"Calm down, Harry."
"Calm down?" Harry yelled, air pouring back into his body along with such anger
he wanted to crush the locket in his fist. "Ron's - he's -- " He couldn't say
it. He needed to get help. Snapping the locket shut, Harry looked around. The
entire kitchen was in ruins. Where was that bloody cup? He needed to hide that
cup. He couldn't let anyone know - Dumbledore had said so.
"Accio Hufflepuff's cup," he whispered. It came flying from a corner, and it
looked like the only thing in the room that hadn't been damaged. Clutching the
cup and locket to his chest, Harry apparated himself to his bedroom. He dropped
the items in his trunk and cast the strongest locking charm he knew.
Then, with the last bit of energy he had left, he apparated to the Burrow. He
landed in the kitchen on his hands and knees. He saw lots of legs gathered
under the kitchen table and he heard voices calling his name from a great
distance.
"Accident," he gasped. "A curse. Kitchen. Grimmauld Place."
Everything went black and he knew no more.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry's hand itched. He tried pulling it away from whatever was making it itch.
"Mr Potter, please don't move. We're just healing the last of your cuts."
Blinking his eyes open, Harry tried to focus on the person beside him. His
eyesight was blurry and all he saw was a light-green blob.
"Harry? Are you awake?
He knew that voice. It was Tonks. He turned his head and saw Tonks' smiling
face hovering over his.
"You're at St Mungo's, Harry. They're almost done healing you. Just hang in
there," Tonks said, and with those words everything that had happened rushed
back to Harry.
"Ron?" he whispered. "Hermione?"
"Mr Potter, you're in shock. I need you to take these potions." A hand cupped
the back of his neck and a glass pressed against his lips. Something sticky,
tasting faintly of blueberries, poured down his throat. Harry swallowed, and
instantly he started feeling warmer and his head cleared. His eyesight stayed
blurry, though.
"Harry?"
He knew that voice, too. It was Kingsley. Harry managed to sit up enough to
survey the room. Two healers he didn't know stood beside his bed. Tonks was
still on his other side, and at the foot of his bed he saw Kingsley looking at
him with a frown.
Kingsley flicked his wand, and slipped it inside his robes. Harry assumed he'd
cast a silencing spell. "What happened?" Kingsley asked. "What curse was used?"
"Ron?" Harry asked, because all he cared about was his best friend's condition.
Kingsley shook his head. "He didn't make it. I'm sorry, Harry."
Choking on a sob, Harry glanced at Tonks. "Hermione?"
"She's still alive, but she's in a coma," Tonks said. Only now did Harry notice
her eyes were rimmed red. "That's why we need to know what happened."
"I..." For the first time, Harry was tempted to tell them about the Horcruxes.
Then he remembered the two Healers. He didn't know those people. And they were
in St Mungo's. Anyone could be listening in, no matter what silencing spell
Kingsley had used. Too much was at stake here, he knew that. "I don't
remember," he whispered, and tears dripped down his cheeks.
At that moment, Harry hated himself, more than he hated Snape, more than he
hated Voldemort.
"Try to remember, Harry." Tonks gripped Harry's arm.
"It was Voldemort," Harry whispered. One of the Healers gasped. "He wasn't
there or anything, but he sent that curse, I think. Maybe there was an owl. I'm
not sure. Dumbledore got hurt last year, remember? I think it was the same
curse."
There, that gave them all the details Harry had without telling them of the
source. Because Harry knew he had to protect the source at all cost.
Something dawned on him. Snape! That bastard had cured Dumbledore last year,
hadn't he? He could cure Hermione!
"What day is it? What time is it?" Harry asked.
"It's noon," Tonks replied, releasing Harry's arm and sharing a look with
Kingsley. "You've been out of it all morning."
Just noon. He could contact Snape. Ask him for the cure. "I have to go," Harry
said, and started getting up.
One of the healers put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Mr Potter, you need to stay
overnight so we can monitor you."
"No." Harry pushed the healer out of the way and got to his feet. He swayed a
little.
"Harry, you're not going anywhere," Kingsley said, moving closer.
Reaching inside his pocket, Harry smiled when he felt his wand. "Try and stop
me."
Kingsley hesitated, hand inching down to the pocket of his robes.
"Harry, where will you go?" Tonks asked, mouth opened in shock.
"I need an owl," Harry said. "Can I apparate from here?"
One of the healers shook his head. "From the reception area."
Kingsley pulled out his wand, but this time Harry was faster than his opponent.
Stupefy, he thought, and a red flash struck Kingsley in the chest. He went down
like a ton of bricks.
"Harry!" Tonks yelled, aghast.
Wand in hand, Harry ran out of the room and down the corridor. He brushed past
Mr Weasley, who had his arms around Mrs Weasley.
"Harry?" Mr Weasley called, but Harry ignored him, and the calls from others he
passed. He saw Fred and George, Bill and Fleur, and McGonagall and Ginny.
Dashing down the stairs, Harry tried to think of a plan. He needed to contact
Snape, and to do so he needed an owl. He couldn't use Hedwig, Snape had told
him that. Besides, he wasn't even sure if Hedwig was back at the house already.
Where was he going to find an owl? He thought of Hogwarts, all the school owls
there, but Voldemort might be monitoring the main gates.
He needed a fucking owl!
As he stormed through the door and inside the reception area, Harry knew the
answer. Where everyone else got their owls, of course. Without a second
thought, Harry apparated straight to Diagon Alley.
He landed near the entrance, and wand still in hand he ran towards the Magical
Menagerie. People around him gasped and jumped out of the way, and Harry wasn't
sure why until he glanced down. His white t-shirt was smeared with dried blood
and covered in grime. As were his jeans. Harry had no time to worry about it,
though, and he threw open the door and finally came to a halt inside the store.
He grabbed the first caged owl he saw - a small, frizzled-looking barn owl who
let out a surprised squeak when Harry all but slammed the cage on the counter.
Behind it stood a young witch, only a few years older than Harry himself. She
took a few steps back, eyes wide as she looked at Harry.
"I need this owl," Harry said, trying to catch his breath. Only now did he
remember that his money pouch was still in his trunk at home. "I'm Harry
Potter. I have a fucking fortune in my vault at Gringott's, but I don't have
any money with me. I need this owl. Now! I will pay you. I swear."
The girl stared at him for a few moments, cleared her throat, and inched closer
to the counter, keeping a wary eye on Harry. "Actually, Sir, if you sign this
Gringott's form we can get the money straight from your vault." Her hand
disappeared beneath the counter for a second, and she slid a piece of parchment
towards Harry. "That owl is thirty Galleons."
"Sure," Harry said. "Quill?" The girl handed him one and Harry quickly signed
the parchment. "Do you have a blank piece of parchment for me?"
"You need to name him before you can use him, Sir," the girl said, reaching
under the counter again.
Harry accepted the piece of parchment with a nod. "Turn around." The girl
obeyed at once, and Harry inhaled a deep breath.
Meet me at my house in London ASAP. Please!
That should do. "Thanks," Harry said, replacing the quill on the counter. He
grabbed the cage and hurried out the store.
"Bye," the girl called after him, craning her neck to watch him leave.
Harry stood in the middle of Diagon Alley and held the cage up to his face.
"You need a name," he said quietly, and the owl looked at him with wide eyes.
Jesus, where to find a name? Harry glanced around and spotted Ollivander's,
still boarded up.
"All right, Ollie. That's your name. I'm Harry. I need you to deliver this note
to Severus Snape. Do you understand?"
The owl - Ollie - hooted softly.
"It's dangerous. Be very careful no one sees you. Are you up for that?"
Ollie puffed out his chest, feathers ruffling.
"Good. When you're done, come to my house." Harry opened the cage and offered
the note to Ollie, who clasped it in his beak and took to the sky. Harry
watched him fly off and only when Ollie was nothing more than a dot on the
horizon did he realize where he was.
People stood some distance away, staring at him. Harry ignored them and
apparated to Grimmauld Place. He made sure he didn't land in the kitchen, but
aimed for the drawing room instead.
The room was as dirty as the rest of the house, but Harry didn't care and sank
down on the couch, empty owl cage at his feet. Dust flew up around him, making
his eyes water. Harry wiped at them, but it was futile, and more and more tears
leaked down his cheeks.
He was putting his faith in the man who murdered Dumbledore to save Hermione's
life.
Harry buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, and sat there.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
A single knock on the front door pulled Harry from his near-catatonic state. He
wasn't sure how long it had been since he got back from Diagon Alley. Minutes,
hours, days? He jumped up and rushed towards the door, wand at the ready. The
moment he opened it to a crack, the figure on the other side, dressed in a
black cloak that covered every inch of his body, pushed his way inside. Harry
stumbled back, but let out a deep breath when the man closed the door and
pushed back the hood of his cloak from his face.
"Potter, are you alone?" Snape asked, and then seemed to take in Harry's
appearance. His eyes widened.
"We're alone," Harry said. His voice sounded gritty, and he tried clearing his
throat a few times. "You need to help Hermione."
"What happened?"
"Ron's dead," Harry said, a sob escaping him. He turned his back to Snape, even
though a small voice inside him warned him that wasn't a good idea, and he
shuffled back into the drawing room. Snape followed him. "He touched a Horcrux.
Hufflepuff's cup. It was cursed. Same curse as on the ring. You cured
Dumbledore. Hermione's in a coma. You need to save her."
Snape heaved a deep sigh. "There isn't a cure for that curse, Potter."
"Of course there is!" Harry whirled around, glaring at Snape. "You cured
Dumbledore. He told me so!"
"I didn't cure him, you imbecile," Snape snarled. "I put off the inevitable for
a few months."
Harry gaped at him.
"Where is Ms Granger? When was she cursed?"
"Around nine this morning, I think. She's in a coma. At St Mungo's."
Snape lowered his head, face hidden behind his black hair. "Then it's too late.
The only reason I was able to delay the curse on the Headmaster was because of
his own quick actions and my timely interference."
"But -- " Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times. "You cured him."
"Potter, I spent the whole school year looking for a cure for that blasted
curse and I came up empty."
"But -- "
"Think, you fool. The Headmaster spent the whole year dying. That curse was
slowly killing him." Snape's face distorted with anger, and Harry took an
involuntary step back. "It's been eight hours since Ms Granger was cursed and
if she's already slipped into a coma there is nothing I can do, Potter. Try to
get that through your thick skull!"
Harry's knees collapsed and he fell down on the couch. "Hermione's dying?"
Snape nodded. "I give her a week at the most."
Eyes filling up again, Harry looked away from Snape and stared at the wall in
determination. He heard Snape opening and closing a few cabinets, followed by
the sound of glass clinking.
"I knew your mongrel of a godfather had a bottle stashed in here," Snape
muttered. The couch dipped beside Harry, and a glass filled almost to the rim
with something amber-colored appeared in front of Harry. He accepted it without
question and drank and drank and drank until it was empty. He bent forward,
head between his knees, and coughed so violently he thought his lungs might
explode.
"There, there." Snape patted him on the back in a mockery of concern.
When Harry sat up again, the room was spinning. He clutched at the armrest of
the couch until it stopped.
"Potter, I can't tell you anything else. However, you will find a portrait of
the Headmaster in his office that can answer all your questions," Snape said,
and then added in distaste, "And for Merlin's sake, practice your Occlumency."
Harry swallowed, and watched Snape refill his glass. Harry drank only half of
it this time and managed not to cough. "But Hogwarts is lost. I can't get in
there." His voice slurred a little, and it made Harry snicker.
"Hagrid's still there. He can find you a way in. Contact him."
"Ah." Harry blinked. "I have a new owl. His name is Ollie. He can fly to
Hagrid."
Snape gave Harry a tired look, and Harry returned it with a grin. It faltered
when he remembered why Snape was there in the first place. "They're my best
friends," he whispered, voice cracking. "They can't be dead."
"We're at war," Snape said, calm as you please. "People are bound to die."
Grief filled Harry much faster than the warmth of the whisky did and he dropped
his glass, spilling it on the floor. He grabbed hold of Snape's cloak and
buried his face against Snape's chest.
"Potter, stop this!" Snape tried to pry Harry's hands off him, but Harry found
strength where he thought he had none, and he pushed Snape backwards on the
couch, toppling onto him.
"Please," Harry said, crawling further on top of Snape. "I need this." He did.
He needed something warm and safe and strong enough to make him forget. Like he
always felt in the grass with Tom, but Tom wasn't there and Harry hated Tom
because Tom's curse had killed Ron and was killing Hermione.
But Snape was there and Snape was real. And Snape was glaring at him, teeth
bared. "Get off me, Potter."
"No." Harry wriggled his hand between their bodies and cupped Snape's privates.
"I need this. Really."
"You're inebriated."
"Huh?"
"You're drunk, imbecile."
"So?" Harry yanked on the fabric of Snape's cloak and robes, buttons popping
left and right. He crushed his lips to Snape's in a sloppy kiss. Snape grabbed
Harry's hair and jerked his head up.
"You haven't destroyed the locket, have you?"
Harry licked his lips, and finally found Snape's cock. It was half-hard and
Harry pulled it free of all the fabric around it. "I didn't know how. But I do
now. I've been practicing the Killing Curse." He grinned down at Snape. "I was
going to use it on you, but maybe now I won't."
Snape released Harry's hair, and Harry's lips landed on his. This time, Snape
returned the kiss and his hands moved into action. They made short work of
Harry's button and zipper, sliding his jeans down over his arse.
"Yeah, just like that," Harry mumbled against Snape's mouth, thrusting his hips
so his cock slid against Snape's. He didn't really care who was lying under
him. There was a body, and it had a hard penis, and it made Harry feel warm
enough to forget. That was all that mattered.
Snape wrapped his arms around Harry, guiding his hips, and Harry thrust and
rutted and kissed Snape as deep and hard as he could. It was very different
from what he always did with Tom. More real, somehow, and filled with pain and
malice, enough to make the building pleasure inside him hurt.
He didn't know who came first, just that at some point Snape arched beneath him
and moaned, and Harry spilled himself all over Snape's cock in waves of
unsatisfying release.
Harry lay panting on top of Snape, face buried against Snape's throat. Snape's
chest heaved beneath him and his hands still gripped Harry's hips, as though
afraid to let go.
"This was a mistake, Potter."
"You don't say," Harry muttered against Snape's cheek. It was dawning on him
that he'd done this with Snape, the fucking bastard who had killed Dumbledore.
Wait. But Dumbledore had already been dying. Harry lifted his head up and
stared down at Snape in confusion.
A loud banging came from the hallway. Someone was at the door. "Harry! Open
up!"
Before Harry could do anything, Snape disappeared with a crack, and Harry hit
the couch with an oomph, face buried in the cushions. The front door banged
open, and moments later Kingsley stepped into the drawing room, wand raised.
Hedwig and Ollie flew in after him, apparently having waited outside to be let
in.
Kingsley stared at him, and Harry realized he was lying on the couch with his
jeans halfway down his legs.
Well, this was awkward.
Harry raised his head, but the room was spinning again.
"I think it's better if I don't ask about what you've been up to in here,"
Kingsley said, crossing the room towards the couch. "I do want to know exactly
what happened this morning, though. Get up, Harry."
"Why?"
"You attacked an Auror this afternoon," Kingsley said. He sounded pissed off.
Harry suddenly remembered what Kingsley was talking about and he started
laughing. He was cut off abruptly when Kingsley grabbed him by the scruff of
his t-shirt and yanked him to his feet. "This is no laughing matter! Your
friend is dead, Harry!"
Harry swayed on his feet and had to press one hand against Kingsley's chest to
steady himself. With his other hand he hoisted up his jeans until he was decent
again. "I know," he whispered. "And Hermione's dying, too. There isn't a cure."
Kingsley's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"
"Because the curse killed Dumbledore, too."
Harry almost lost his balance when Kingsley took a step back. "You'd best start
talking right now, Harry, before I pour Veritaserum down your throat."
"No!" Harry gave Kingsley his best pleading look. "I can't tell you. I promised
Dumbledore I wouldn't tell anyone."
"Is this the owl you mentioned?" Kingsley pointed at Ollie, who sat on an
armrest of the couch, and shrank under the sudden attention until nothing
remained but a puffy ball of feathers.
Harry plucked Ollie from the couch and hugged him to his chest. "No, this is my
owl." He brushed his lips across Ollie's soft head. "Sshh. Everything's all
right."
"Harry, put down the bloody owl." Kingsley sounded like he was very close to
losing his patience. "We are going to your kitchen right now, and you are going
to tell me everything that happened in there, understood?"
Nodding, Harry released Ollie, who hopped up on the armrest again, slightly
ruffled. Kingsley strode out the room and Harry followed him, his mind racing
to find a way to stop Kingsley. He couldn't tell him. He couldn't tell anyone.
If only he knew how to obliviate someone.
Harry's steps faltered. He did know how to cast the --
His wand was in his hand a second later, and Harry thought, Imperio.
Kingsley's broad shoulders went slack. Ha! A triumphant grin curled Harry's
lips. Except then Kingsley's shoulders stiffened again, and he turned around,
looking more angry than Harry had ever seen him.
"Oh no," Kingsley said, voice oddly calm. "You did not just cast an Imperius on
me, mate."
Harry stared at Kingsley until the world spun around and his legs dropped out
from under him. His stomach turned and turned, and Harry threw up right there
at Kingsley's feet.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry was back in the drawing room, seated on the couch. Kingsley handed him a
steaming cup of tea, though where he'd got it, Harry wasn't sure, since the
kitchen was still in ruins. Harry sipped it, and Kingsley pulled up a chair,
sitting down opposite Harry.
"Well, this is certainly interesting," Kingsley said, cradling a cup of tea.
Worrying his lip, Harry stared at the floor. His wand lay on the coffee table
where Kingsley had put it, out of his reach.
"I know you're a good kid, Harry. I also know you know there is a life sentence
in Azkaban for using an Unforgivable Curse." Kingsley took a sip of tea,
looking far too unconcerned for Harry's liking. "So, that makes me wonder why
you would ever think of casting one on me."
Silence stretched between them and Harry looked everywhere but at Kingsley.
"It leads me to conclude that whatever secret you're keeping you're willing to
protect with your life."
Harry finally glanced at Kingsley. He nodded miserably. "Dumbledore told me,
ordered me, not to tell anyone."
"All right. I can accept that. But can you tell me something without giving any
details away, at least?"
"Look," Harry said, sighing. "Dumbledore gave me certain information. If
Voldemort finds out I have that information, everything is lost. And I mean
everything. We won't stand a chance against him if he finds out."
Kingsley nodded, looking thoughtful.
"Besides," Harry said, narrowing his eyes. "It's not like any of you ever tell
me what's going on in the Order. You haven't even invited me to any meetings
yet."
Tilting his head, Kingsley smiled. "How's your Occlumency, Harry?"
Huffing, Harry glared at Kingsley. "I've been practicing."
"Keep practicing and you'll eventually get invited into the Order." Kingsley
downed the last of his tea and put the cup down on the table. "I guess we all
just have to trust each other to make the right decisions. Are you sure there
isn't a cure for the curse?"
"Yeah. Voldemort made it himself. It's designed to kill." Harry's shoulders
hunched. "It was an accident. I didn't know there was a curse, and Ron touched
something and Hermione tried to stop him, and then there was all this magic and
the kitchen was in ruins...it all happened so fast."
"I'm sorry, Harry."
"Me, too. I didn't see it coming. Maybe I should have."
"Don't blame yourself for something you didn't know," Kingsley said. He
stretched his legs and leaned back in the chair. "So what's up with your new
owl?"
Harry shrugged. "I thought it would make a nice companion for Hedwig," he said,
and looked around for Hedwig. She sat on the back of a chair in the corner of
the room, staring daggers at the intruder.
Kingsley snickered. "Yeah, I can see how thrilled she is." Harry managed a
small smile, until Kingsley asked, "You're not seventeen yet. How come the
Ministry isn't sending you any letters for using magic?"
Eyes widening, Harry almost dropped his cup. "I used a spell to hide my magic.
I had to."
"Why?"
"Because I was stuck alone at the Dursleys, and what if I'd run into a Death
Eater or something?"
"You were safe at the Dursleys. No one could touch you there."
Harry snorted. "Tell that to the Dementor Umbridge sent after me two years
ago."
"Fair enough," Kingsley said with a nod. "You'll be seventeen next week anyway.
Just don't cast anything in front of strangers. Like a Stupefy on an Auror in
front of two healers."
"Sorry about that," Harry muttered. "And sorry about the Imperius. I wasn't
thinking."
"You were drunk is my guess."
"That too," Harry said, and was glad to see Kingsley grinning.
"I'm going to get us something to eat. That will help you get rid of all the
alcohol still in your body." Kingsley pushed himself up from his chair, and
loomed over Harry. "You stay put, Harry. If you don't, I will track you down
and throw you in Azkaban myself, and I'll make sure you're sharing a cell with
Lucius Malfoy, understood?"
Harry gulped. When Kingsley left, he stayed put.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Kingsley left after making sure Harry ate the whole curry. Harry had assured
Kingsley a dozen times that he'd be all right on his own, even if he wasn't
sure himself. But he needed the privacy.
He retired to his bedroom and sat down at the desk, a blank piece of parchment
in front of him. He was going to take Snape's advice - or order, rather.
Hagrid,
I need to get into Hogwarts as soon as possible, but I'm worried there might be
unwanted guests hanging around the gates. Can you get me in?
Harry
P.s. The owl's name is Ollie.
He felt torn about signing the note with his name, but he wasn't sure if Hagrid
would recognize his handwriting. He hadn't really written Hagrid any letters
before. Anyway, no one knew Ollie was his owl. If both Snape and Kingsley kept
their mouths shut, that was.
Ollie was eager for another task, and after Harry sent him off he was faced
with a severely offended Hedwig. Even half a bag of owl treats didn't calm her
down and Harry finally gave up. He had more important things to do.
He retrieved the locket and the cup from his trunk and threw them on his bed.
Determined, he reached for his wand and aimed it at the cup. That stupid piece
of metal had killed Ron, and was killing Hermione, and Harry didn't care if the
bloody thing might explode or the curse might backfire.
Aiming his wand at the cup, Harry said with as much vindictive pleasure as he
could bare to stand, "Avada Kedavra."
The green flash struck the cup, and a wave of magic crackled the air, followed
by a puff of yellow smoke. Harry stood still, barely breathing, as the smoke
cleared. The cup was cracked down its side.
Good. Very good.
Harry aimed his wand at the locket, but at once doubt set in. Tom had promised
him another Horcrux, had promised him all the Horcruxes.
And what chance did Harry have of finding the Horcruxes on his own, especially
now that Ron and Hermione weren't there to help him when he needed them. He
didn't even know what the two remaining Horcruxes were.
His arm trembling, Harry lowered his wand. It was suicide to destroy the locket
now. No matter how much he wanted to cast that Killing Curse, he knew he needed
Tom's help.
Harry threw his wand on the bed and stormed into the bathroom. He dumped his
clothes in the rubbish bin. Even if he could get all the blood stains out, he
didn't want to be reminded of what had happened when he'd worn them.
He took his time in the shower, scrubbing off grime and dried blood, and then
he stood under the hot water, his thoughts going a hundred miles a minute.
Ron was dead. Ron had died that morning in his kitchen. Hermione was in a coma,
and she was never waking up again. It sounded so surreal.
The Dursleys were dead, too. All of them. Harry had almost forgot about them,
and that filled him with cold shame.
Dumbledore was dead. Sirius was dead. His parents were dead.
So who did he have left? Snape?
Oh God. Harry raised his head and blinked against the water falling down on
him. He'd had sex with Snape. He'd kissed Snape.
"No," he said to himself. "I can do even worse than Snape. I've had sex with
Voldemort. I kissed Voldemort. And everyone is dead." He threw his head back
and laughed, until it turned to sobs.
Harry turned off the water and wiped furiously at his face with a towel. Enough
with the tears. He had a piece of soul to meet. He dried off, slipped into a
pair of boxers, and padded back to his bedroom. He threw the broken cup in his
trunk and hoped he'd never see it again.
The locket lay where he'd left it, and Harry sat cross legged on the sheets. He
needed a minute to steady himself, but eventually he picked the locket up. It
clicked open at once.
"Harry?" Tom asked, brows creased with concern. "Are you all right? I've been
worried sick about you."
Harry blinked. He hadn't expected that reaction.
"Come visit me."
"I'm not in the mood," Harry said, though a longing swelled in his chest. It
wasn't arousal. It was a need for warmth and comfort, for a pair of arms around
him, for someone to tell him everything was going to be all right.
"I wasn't even thinking about sex," Tom said, looking offended. "I want to make
sure you're all right. Come visit me. Please."
It was the please that did it. Harry held the locket up to his eyes, and a
moment later he stood in front of Tom. Harry couldn't look at him, and when Tom
placed his hands on Harry's face, Harry pulled away.
"Ron died," he said, back turned to Tom. "And Hermione is dying. They're my
friends."
"What happened?" Tom didn't touch him again, but Harry felt him standing close
to him.
"Ron touched the cup." Harry whipped around on his feet. "You could have
fucking told me it was cursed!" He drew his arm back to punch Tom, but Tom
caught his wrist.
"Well, of course it is cursed," Tom said, sounding a little puzzled. "Did you
honestly think I had one of my Horcruxes hidden away without some magical
protection?"
Harry opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't think of anything to say. He
really hadn't thought of it, but now he wanted to hit himself on the head for
not considering any magical protection before. It made perfect sense. He'd been
an idiot, and it had cost him dearly. It had cost everyone dearly.
"What I want to know..." Tom said, pulling Harry closer by the arm. Harry
looked up at him. Tom's hazel eyes flashed crimson. "I want to know why you let
someone else touch my Horcrux in the first place."
Swallowing, Harry glanced at the floor. "It was an accident," he said quietly.
"They stormed in and I didn't have time to hide it properly, and Ron saw it and
touched it. He had no idea what it was, though."
"Very well." Tom stroked his hand down Harry's cheek and this time Harry let
him, too numb to object. "I do hope this has been a valuable lesson for you,
Harry. You should be taking better care of my soul."
Harry nodded, and when Tom pulled him against his chest, Harry went. He even
wrapped an arm around Tom's waist. He knew this was the wrong kind of comfort,
but it was comfort nonetheless.
It was better than nothing.
Wind swept through Harry's hair, and he looked up to see a dark sky above and
grass all around them. He pulled away from Tom and walked closer to the edge of
the cliff. Far below him dark waves crashed against the rocks.
Tom stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around him, and with those arms
came a thick blanket, and Harry felt warm again.
"It was an accident," Tom said, his lips brushing Harry's cheek. "But I guess
that doesn't make it any easier. Death is a cruel master."
"Yeah," Harry whispered. "Everyone keeps dying."
"They do." Tom tightened his embrace around Harry. "But I won't. I refuse to
kneel before death. You will never lose me."
Harry's eyes fell shut as a shudder ran through him.
"My mother died," Tom said. "She chose death over life. She chose death over
me. She didn't even fight."
"My mum died, too." Harry swallowed. He wished his mother was there, right at
that moment; that her arms were around him, her voice whispering softly in his
ear. "She chose death, too. She accepted death and she just left me there."
"I'm not leaving you. You mean far too much to me."
Harry didn't want to believe him. Besides, he didn't really care about anything
Tom said to him. All he cared about was the warmth Tom offered. He turned
around in Tom's arms and pressed his lips to Tom's. Tom kissed him back, and it
was slow and soothing, with soft touches of their tongues.
Yeah, Harry could lose himself in that kind of comfort. Wanted to lose himself
in it.
They lay down on the grass as they always did, their clothes gone at once. The
blanket remained, though, and Harry basked in the heat of it combined with
Tom's body lying half on top of him. Tom took his time touching Harry's body
with his hands and lips. He kissed down Harry's throat, licked his nipples, and
stroked his sides and thighs. And Harry sucked it up, reveling in the
attention, allowing it to chase away his thoughts.
"Let me take you, Harry," Tom said against Harry's lips. "Let me show you what
it can be like for two people to become one."
Harry stared up at Tom, uncertain for a moment. He reminded himself it wasn't
real, it was all in his mind, and he nodded.
"All you have to do is let me." Tom slipped between Harry's legs, which Harry
spread without question. Tom's cock, suddenly slippery but with what Harry
didn't know, nudged against Harry's pucker.
"Do you want this?" Tom asked, leaning over Harry, hands on either side of
Harry's shoulders.
"Yeah," Harry said, and he moaned when Tom thrust his hips, and he was suddenly
filled with something so hard and warm. This was much better than feeling arms
around him, Harry decided. Tom lay on top of him, their bodies flush against
each other. Harry wrapped his arms around Tom and understood what Tom had meant
about two people becoming one.
It didn't matter this was Voldemort. What mattered was that Harry wasn't alone.
There was someone here who gave him what he needed, and he hadn't known he
needed it until Tom had given it to him.
Harry closed his eyes, and he moaned every time Tom's cock slid into him,
deeper and deeper. His own cock was trapped between them, hot friction making
his pleasure swell with every thrust.
It must have lasted for hours, or so it felt for Harry. He lost himself in Tom,
in their bodies fusing together, in the climax building inside him. When he
finally came with a strangled groan it was violent and perfect and exhausting.
Tom spent himself moments later, and more heat filled Harry, and the world was
empty save for the two of them on their grassy field near the sea. And that was
all Harry wanted; to forget for a while.
"Sleep now, Harry," Tom said, rolling them on their sides. He arranged the
blanket around them, and Harry curled up against Tom and let his warmth sweep
him away until his eyes fell shut.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry stood in Dumbledore's office and all around him portraits were snoring.
Dumbledore was also asleep in his frame, and Harry reached out his wand and
tapped it against the canvas.
Dumbledore blinked his eyes open. "Harry?"
"Guess again," Harry said.
Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Tom?"
Fire exploded from Harry's wand. Dumbledore's face blackened and blistered
until it looked like Ron lying dead in his kitchen. Old headmasters screamed as
flames engulfed them, and bottles and trinkets popped and cracked under the
heat.
Harry sat up with a gasp. Tom lay beside him in the bed in the attic, and he
slowly opened his eyes.
"Bad dream?" Tom asked, rubbing his hand across Harry's chest.
"I'm not sure," Harry said, shaking his head to clear it. Had it been a
nightmare, fueled by the loss of his friends? Or had Voldemort actually --
"I have to go." Harry jumped up from the bed, but Tom caught his wrist.
"I thought we were going to collect a Horcrux today," Tom asked, frowning.
"We will," Harry said, shooting a desperate glance at the door. "But I have to
check something. I'll be back soon. I promise." He leaned down and pressed a
quick kiss to Tom's lips. Tom smiled, released Harry's wrist and stretched out
on the bed.
"See you soon, then."
"Yeah." Harry dashed out the door and sat up in his own bed. He ran out his
room and towards his old bedroom. Phineas would know if what he'd dreamed was
real.
Except Phineas' portrait was gone.
"Shit," Harry said, staring at the slightly colored spot on the wall where
Phineas' portrait had been. Who the hell had taken that painting?
He didn't have time for this. Voldemort may have attacked Hogwarts. Fuck!
Hagrid was at Hogwarts. Cold dread crept inside Harry's chest as he pulled on
clothes as fast as he could. Had someone intercepted his owl? Had it fallen
into Voldemort's hands?
Dammit, he shouldn't have signed it.
Harry stepped into his trainers but didn't bother tying them. He grabbed his
wand and his glasses, and apparated to the Burrow. He landed in the garden this
time, and a choked breath escaped him when he saw Hagrid standing near the back
door, talking to Lupin.
"Hagrid!" Harry called, running towards them. "Hogwarts?"
"Was attacked last night," Lupin finished for him.
Harry leaned over, clutching his stomach. "I dreamed it," he said, and tried to
hold his sobs back. "Voldemort. He destroyed Dumbledore's portrait."
Sniffing, Hagrid put a large hand on Harry's back. "He destroyed the
Headmaster's whole office. Everythin's gone."
Harry straightened himself and glanced up at Hagrid. Hagrid's eyes were shining
with tears. "Did you get my owl?"
"Yer owl? I haven't seen Hedwig for a while now, Harry."
"Not Hedwig. I have a new owl. I sent him to you last night with a note, asking
if you could get me into Hogwarts."
"I didn't get any note from yeh."
Harry looked at Lupin. "I think it was intercepted by Voldemort."
Lupin shook his head. "It's not safe to send owls."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "How else am I supposed to be communicating with any
of you? No one's shown me how to use my Patronus yet."
"It's all right," Hagrid said. "It's not yer fault. I've been patrolling the
grounds ever since the attack at Hogsmeade, and I didn't see anything last
night. Not a thing. He must 'a snuck in or else I woulda seen him."
"Oh," Harry said, looking between Hagrid and Lupin. "Maybe Voldemort left one
secret passageway open, one we don't know about."
Lupin frowned. "That certainly would explain a lot. Harry, can you ask Phineas
what happened exactly inside the office?"
"I can't," Harry said. "His portrait is gone."
"Gone?" Lupin asked, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Yep. I don't know who took it or when. I never checked to see if it was there
when I moved in a few days ago."
"I need to tell this to the others." Lupin gave Harry's shoulder a final
squeeze and walked inside the house.
"I'm so sorry about Ron and Hermione," Hagrid said, fishing an enormous
handkerchief from his pocket. He blew his nose.
"Me, too," Harry said, chest tightening. "Look, I have to go. Take care of
yourself, all right? And be careful."
"O'course. 'Sides, I got Grawp with me at Hogwarts now. And the centaurs have
agreed to patrol the grounds as well after what happened last night."
"Good. See you later, Hagrid." Harry apparated back to his bedroom. The locket
lay between his crumpled sheets, and Harry reached for it. But before he
touched it, a tapping on the window drew his attention.
He slid the curtain back and quickly opened the window when he saw Ollie
sitting on the window sill.
"Where have you been? What happened? Why didn't you deliver the note?"
Ollie flew inside and landed on the chair at the desk. He hooted once, twice,
and bobbed his head up and down.
"Okay, let's do this slowly," Harry said, frustrated beyond belief the stupid
bird couldn't talk. "Did you deliver the note?"
Ollie didn't move.
"No? Were you intercepted?"
Ollie bobbed his head up and down once.
"Was it Voldemort?"
Tilting his head, Ollie hooted.
"Was it Voldemort?" Harry asked again, leaning closer. Ollie nipped his finger,
and Harry drew back. He sucked his finger into his mouth. It was bleeding. "All
right. So someone intercepted you. It could have been a Death Eater, I suppose.
It wasn't Snape, was it?"
Ollie didn't move.
"Yeah, I didn't think so."
Sighing, Harry inspected his finger. It was just a small cut and would heal
soon enough. He needed to figure out who knew he had a new owl. Snape knew, but
Harry didn't think Snape had betrayed him. It was strange, since before he'd
have pointed a finger at Snape immediately. But things had changed. Harry
wasn't sure what things, but he knew they had changed.
Kingsley knew about Ollie. Harry frowned. Kingsley had been awfully curious
about Harry's secrets.
Harry shook his head. Many more people knew, didn't they? The girl at the
store, the people who'd seen him with Ollie in Diagon Alley. It could have been
anyone.
Dammit. He moved back towards his bed and picked up the locket. The moment he
slid it around his neck it opened.
"Is everything all right, Harry?" Tom asked.
"Yeah," Harry said, forcing a smile. "Everything's fine. It was just a bad
dream after all." The less his Tom knew about the real Voldemort's actions, the
better, Harry decided. Let Tom worry about the Horcruxes for now.
"I am glad to hear that. Ready to get my Horcrux?"
"Yeah. Just let me finish dressing and put in my contacts."
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry stood in front of a wrought iron gate, overgrown with ivy. He took off
his sunglasses and tipped his cap up to see what lay beyond. There were trees
and bushes and weeds that had been allowed to grow until they were almost as
tall as he was. And between them all, Harry saw stone slabs rising from the
ground.
"It's a cemetery?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Tom said. "Though it hasn't been used since the second world war. Use
your cloak once we're inside."
When Tom had directed him back to the west end of London, Harry had expected a
great many things, but not a small cemetery that could hardly be seen from the
main road behind him. He flicked his wand and the gate sprung open. Glancing
around, Harry slipped through it and covered himself with his invisibility
cloak.
"We need to find an unmarked grave," Tom whispered, as Harry pulled the locket
out from under his t-shirt. "They lay in the back. We need the one on the far
right."
"Who's in the grave?" Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
"My mother."
Harry stumbled over a tree root and caught himself on a nearby headstone. He
hadn't seen that answer coming. Tom knew where his mother was buried? And he'd
hidden a Horcrux there? In a grave?
Maybe it did make sense, in a Voldemort-like way.
Maneuvering through all the bushes proved difficult. His cloak kept getting
caught in branches, and Harry had to stop every other step to pull it free so
it wouldn't tear.
He wondered if Snape was there, and if he was, what he should say to him. He'd
kissed the man, after all. And oh, Tom didn't know Harry had gotten off with
Snape, and Tom didn't like to share his toys, so what if Snape said something
in front of Tom?
A branch snapped to Harry's left, and Harry dropped to his knees at once, wand
up and ready to strike. He pursed his lips and held his breath, straining to
hear who or what was moving around the cemetery.
He hoped to God it was a fox or something. Foxes lived in London. He'd seen a
documentary about it once. Please let it be a fox.
"I can smell you, little man."
Not a fox. A wolf.
Harry fought the urge to close his eyes and whimper. Fenrir Greyback was moving
around the vegetation not ten feet away from him.
Dammit, why couldn't it have been Snape?
"Oh, I'm going to have fun with you, boy. Where to start, where to start?"
Greyback stomped through the undergrowth, advancing on Harry with every step.
"The Dark Lord was wondering if you might show up here. He is going to be so
pleased when I give you to him. He won't mind a few cuts and bruises,
and...other injuries."
He was going to be next, Harry knew it. First Ron, then Hermione, and now him.
Harry frowned. He was damned if he was going down without a fight. Besides,
Greyback had no clue what curses Harry had been practicing. Oh boy, was that
bastard in for a surprise.
When Greyback was just three feet away, Harry sprung up, his arm trembling as
he aimed his wand, almost touching Greyback in the chest.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light engulfed Greyback, throwing him backwards until he landed against a
headstone with a sickening crunch. His body lay slack and his eyes stared up at
the sky, all life drained from them.
It was the only way he could prevent Greyback from going back to Voldemort and
telling him Harry knew about the Horcruxes. Or so Harry told himself. He didn't
want to think about the fact he had just killed a man, even a low-life bastard
like Greyback.
Greyback deserved it, for everything he'd done to all those children he had
infected, Lupin included.
"Nice Killing Curse, Harry," Tom said, and Harry glanced down, worried Greyback
had said too much and Tom had figured out whose side Harry really was on.
"Thanks," he said. "His name was Fenrir Greyback. He always had it in for me.
He was determined to infect me, even though he - you - always told him no. He
was a werewolf."
"Nasty creatures," Tom said, and apparently that was that. "The grave is just
to our right."
Harry made sure he saw no other Death Eaters lurking nearby before he struggled
through the bushes to his right. He didn't see any graves, just more and more
vegetation.
"Where is it?"
Tom chuckled. "I am surprised you haven't discovered it yet, Harry. It's right
in front of you."
Harry narrowed his eyes and scanned the ground in front of him, but all he saw
was a large bush with countless narrow leaves and little red berries.
"Taxus Baccata," Tom said. "Also known as the Common Yew."
Harry's jaw dropped. "Your wand. It's made of yew."
"Indeed it is."
Harry couldn't help himself. He burst out in laughter, more a release of the
stress of his confrontation with Greyback than anything else. "Okay," he said.
"That is clever."
"Yes, I thought so," Tom said, pleased. "You will find the Horcrux beneath the
roots of the tree."
"That's a tree?"
"You really should brush up on your botany, Harry," Tom said, but there was
only amusement in his voice. Harry thought Tom might be right about that. He'd
never have recognized that tree as a yew, and he'd never have thought to look
in Merope's grave, if he'd been able to locate it in the first place. He'd
never have found this Horcrux without Tom.
Harry gave the tree - honestly, it looked more like a bush - a once over. "I
didn't bring a shovel."
"Stop thinking like a Muggle and start acting like a wizard," Tom said, and
this time Harry heard honest irritation in his voice.
"Sorry."
"Try Tranemus. It requires just a flick of your wand."
Harry whipped his wand up, said, "Tranemus", and was at once covered in dirt
from head to toe. The yew tree flew through the air, much like Fenrir Greyback
had, and landed behind him.
"Perhaps a smaller flick next time," Tom said, as Harry shook his head to get
the dirt off.
When he'd brushed the sand out of his eyes, Harry crept closer to the sizable
hole left behind by the tree's roots, and peeked inside. There, at the bottom,
shone something silver. He expected it to be stained from years in the soil,
but the sunlight reflected on it as though someone had polished it only
yesterday.
Harry squinted. "Is it another cup?"
"Ah!" Tom said, as though he too saw the small item for the first time. "It is
Ravenclaw's silver inkwell."
"Can I touch it?" Harry asked, and added, "is it cursed?" just to be sure.
"It is cursed, but it will not harm you."
Harry reached inside the hole, and hovered his hand above the inkwell as
memories of Ron's still and blackened body assaulted him. He tried to swallow
them away, and closed his hand around the silver in determination.
Nothing happened, and Harry sat back with a sigh. He shook the inkwell to get
all the dirt out, and looked at it closely.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Sure," Harry said, though there was little conviction in his voice this time.
He got up, brushed off his knees, and stuffed the inkwell in his pocket. His
invisibility cloak went back in his bag, and he put on his sunglasses.
"Nice work, Harry."
"Thanks," Harry said, worming his way back through all the weeds and bushes. He
noticed Greyback's dead body. "What should we do with him?"
"Leave him," Tom said, unconcerned. "This is a cemetery, after all."
Harry found no fault in that.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry balanced a large pizza box and a bottle of Pepsi in his arms as he opened
the front door. That morning's Horcrux hunt had left him hungry, but the
thought of having to enter his kitchen, having to see the ruins and remember
what had happened there, had driven him to the nearest fast-food restaurant.
The lights in the hallway were on, and Harry was quite sure he'd turned them
off before he left. "I don't think we're alone," he whispered to Tom. Without
waiting for a reply, Harry pulled the necklace off , snapped the locket shut
and shoved it in his bag. He retrieved the inkwell from his jeans and pushed it
inside his bag as well, rearranging his invisibility cloak on top of both
Horcruxes.
Something caught his eye. The hem of his invisibility cloak was singed. Had it
been in the way of the Killing Curse he'd cast on Greyback?
"Potter?" Snape stepped out of the drawing room. He glanced at Harry's chest.
"Are we alone?"
Pulling his bag closed, Harry nodded. Snape disappeared inside the drawing room
again, and Harry followed him.
"Potter, what happened at Hogwarts last night?" Snape asked the moment Harry
sat his pizza and Pepsi down on the table.
Harry frowned. "I thought you'd know, seeing as Voldemort attacked it."
"Do not speak his name!" Snape inhaled a deep breath as though to calm himself.
"What exactly did he attack?"
"The Headmaster's office. He destroyed everything."
Snape sat down on the couch at once, face paling. "The Headmaster's portrait?"
"Yeah, that too," Harry said, plucking at the sleeve of his t-shirt. He had no
idea why Snape seemed so shocked by this. "I...er...did what you asked last
night. I sent Hagrid an owl. It got intercepted, but I don't know by whom."
Snape was back on his feet in a second, looming over Harry. "You wrote in an
owl you needed to see his portrait?"
"No! I just asked Hagrid to get me inside Hogwarts. That's all." Harry turned
away from Snape, and he heard the couch creak as Snape sat down again. "Why are
you so...er...upset?"
"Because my life depended on that portrait!" Snape yelled. That got Harry's
attention. He turned around, and he wasn't sure what to make of the expression
on Snape's face. Snape looked almost vulnerable. "There were memories as well,"
Snape said, softer now. "In glass vials. Have you heard anything of them?"
Harry remembered the sound of glass breaking as the flames spread and spread.
"I think they're destroyed as well. There was a huge fire."
Snape lowered his head.
"I don't understand," Harry said, moving closer to the couch.
"Allow me to sketch you a future scenario, Potter," Snape said, his face hidden
behind his black hair. "Should you manage to defeat the Dark Lord, what do you
think happens to those the Ministry perceives to be on his side?"
"Azkaban?" Harry guessed, sitting down on the couch beside Snape.
"That, or the Dementor's Kiss. How do you think the Ministry will punish the
man who killed Albus Dumbledore?"
Harry swallowed. "But Dumbledore was already dying."
"You know that, and I know that, but without that portrait or those memories no
one else will."
"I'm sorry," Harry said, because he had no idea what else to say. This was all
very unexpected.
"Spare me your sympathy," Snape said, sounding more like himself again. He
glared at Harry. "You just do your job. Have you destroyed the locket yet?"
Harry shook his head.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "You imbecile. When will you ever -- " Harry clapped his
hand over Snape's mouth, effectively shutting him up.
"Allow me to tell you a story," Harry said, lowering his hand. "I have
destroyed the cup, Horcrux number three. This morning, I found Ravenclaw's
inkwell, Horcrux number four. I'll destroy it later today. I already have the
locket, Horcrux number five, and I can destroy it at any given time. I need the
locket for now, though, because I have no idea what Horcrux number six is, or
where it's hidden."
Snape frowned, but didn't say anything.
"I would never have found the inkwell without the locket's help," Harry said.
"And I doubt I'd have found the cup so quickly. Dumbledore asked me to destroy
those Horcruxes and that's what I'm doing."
"Just...be on your guard around that locket. The fact that it can think for
itself should tell you enough." Snape rubbed a hand across his face and leaned
back in the couch.
"So Vol - er...the Dark Lord hasn't said anything about the attack last night?"
Harry asked. Snape shook his head. "How about the attack on Hogsmeade?"
"Oh, he was very vocal about that occasion. He brought everyone along."
"You were there?" Harry asked, shocked.
Snape turned his head to give Harry an incredulous look. "I am a Death Eater,
Potter, in case it had slipped your attention."
"You're sort of a Death Eater," Harry said, smiling. Snape snorted. "So did he
attack Hogsmeade to cut Hogwarts off from the Order?"
"My, my, it seems there is some semblance of intelligence inside that empty
head of yours after all."
Harry grinned. "I knew it."
"There is one more thing, Potter," Snape said. "Tomorrow evening at dusk the
Dark Lord will attack Azkaban."
"Azkaban?" Harry asked, confused.
"He's low on support. He needs those loyal to him incarcerated there."
"Ah." Harry stared down at his knees. "He's even a bit lower on support since
this morning. I ran into Fenrir Greyback. He...er...didn't make it."
"I see. Been practicing your Unforgivables, Potter?"
Harry shrugged. "Greyback wasn't exactly inviting me over for tea. I didn't
have a choice."
"Telling yourself that will certainly make it easier," Snape said, and rose
from the couch. "I trust my information will make its way into the right
hands?"
"Yeah," Harry said, glancing up at Snape. He could see no emotion on Snape's
face. "See you around."
"Of that I'm sure. Good day, Potter." Snape swept out of the room with a
familiar swish of his black robes, and that brought back memories of Hogwarts,
and Harry couldn't think of Hogwarts without thinking of Ron and Hermione.
Harry shook his head, and summoned parchment and ink. He wrote two identical
notes.
Kingsley,
Meet me at my house ASAP. It's important.
After he sent both Hedwig and Ollie off - he wasn't taking any chances with the
kind of information he had to give Kingsley - he ate cold pizza and drank Pepsi
straight from the bottle.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
It had been a good day, Harry thought, and the moment he thought it he wanted
to curse himself. Ron was dead and Hermione's condition was deteriorating.
Harry doubted there ever would be good days again for as long as he lived.
Still, he'd found a Horcrux, had an informative chat with Snape, told Kingsley
about the upcoming attack on Azkaban, staved off Kingsley's persistent
questions about how he knew about that, and he'd destroyed the Horcrux he'd
found.
Perhaps not a bad day. Certainly not a good one.
"You're brooding, Harry," Tom said, pressing soft kisses to Harry's cheek. Even
though Tom had already pulled out of him, Harry could still feel the heat
lingering inside him. Tom lay pressed against Harry's back, softening prick
brushing Harry's arse.
It wasn't a bad feeling. Certainly not a good one.
"It will get better," Tom said. Harry snorted and glanced over his shoulder to
look at Tom.
"In about a million years, perhaps."
"Pessimist."
Harry had nothing to say to that, though it did make him think. Was he really a
pessimist? At that moment he was inclined to agree, no matter how successful
his mission was going. They were at war. People got killed. There was no
success to be had no matter who won or lost.
"We'll get the last Horcrux in a week or so," Tom said. He pulled up the
blanket around them. "And then all my Horcruxes will be safe with you."
Harry smiled, and strangely, he did feel better.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Harry stood in the drawing room opposite Snape, who had his wand aimed at him.
"Tut, tut," Harry said, wand in his hand, pointed almost carelessly at Snape.
"I suggest you hear me out, Severus. I have a few things to offer you are
interested in."
Snape arched an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't move.
"I can guarantee you life, freedom, even immortality if you seek it," Harry
said, taking slow steps towards Snape. "Who else, I wonder, is left to give you
all that? You are no martyr, Severus. I doubt you are looking forward to
certain death."
Snape stared at Harry for a long time, his expression impassive. Then he gave
the tiniest of nods. "Very well. Make me an offer."
Harry sat up with a gasp. Beside him Tom stirred under the blanket.
"Bad dream?"
Harry blinked. "No, not really," he said, lying back down. "Just a really weird
one."
Burrowing closer against Harry, Tom chuckled. "You and your dreams."
Harry swallowed back a snort. If only he knew. He closed his eyes again, but
the dream kept bugging him. Why had he dreamed that? True, after what Snape had
told him Harry had spent some time thinking of ways to help Snape once the war
ended. Or rather, if the war ended in their favor.
Snape was helping him, and it did bug Harry that with the loss of Dumbledore's
portrait and memories Snape might be sentenced to death. Yes, he'd killed
Dumbledore and Harry still had mixed feelings about it. But now he knew there
was a whole lot more to that story, yet Snape no longer had a chance to prove
that.
Perhaps it did make sense he'd dreamed about trying to help Snape. He did have
a 'saving people thing', didn't he? Hermione had said that. Thoughts of
Hermione obliterated any more chances of sleep, so Harry opened his eyes and
looked around the attic room.
He frowned. There, on the desk, beside the diary and the locket, stood
Hufflepuff's cup and Ravenclaw's inkwell.
"Brooding again?" Tom asked, stroking a hand up and down Harry's chest.
"The cup and the inkwell, have those always been there?" Harry asked, his
heartbeat speeding up. Did Tom know about the Horcruxes he'd destroyed?
"Of course," Tom said, and brushed a kiss against the corner of Harry's mouth.
"I have lived in this room for years. It's where I made my Horcruxes."
"Ah." A wave of relief washed over Harry. Tom didn't know. Good. "I just don't
remember seeing them before."
"I'm not surprised," Tom said, and rolled on top of Harry. "We have been busy
with other, far more pleasurable things in here than inspecting the decor."
"True." Harry returned the kiss Tom gave him and let his thighs fall open to
accommodate Tom's body. As long as Tom didn't know Harry was destroying the
Horcruxes he was supposed to be keeping safe, he didn't really care what he saw
in Tom's room.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
The next morning, Harry received an owl from the Weasleys, asking him to stop
by soon. They wanted to know if he had any ideas about Ron's funeral. They
wanted to know if he was doing all right, and if he needed anything. They said
they knew it wasn't Harry's fault what had happened.
Harry left the letter on the table in the drawing room, and spent fifteen
minutes lying face down on his bed crying so hard he ended up with a sore
throat and a killer headache. He washed his face, put on his baseball cap and
sunglasses, and went grocery shopping to distract himself.
He ended up with more chocolate and crisps than anything with nutrition, but
quickly decided it didn't matter. He could be dead the next day. He might as
well stuff himself for the hell of it.
He put his groceries away in the drawing room. He still didn't have the courage
to go into the kitchen.
As it turned out, eating three bars of chocolate and one bag of salty crisps
gave him a stomach ache, and he took a long bath in the hopes it would make him
feel better.
It didn't.
By noon Harry opened the locket and spent the rest of the day with Tom on the
grass near the sea. They talked a little, they spent stretches of time sitting
side by side gazing out over the waves, they fucked until Harry thought he
couldn't see straight any longer, and eventually Harry fell asleep in Tom's
arms, safely beneath their blanket.
White, blinding pain shot through Harry's scar so fiercely he thought his brain
might explode. He curled into a ball, clutching at his head in desperation,
first screaming and then begging for it to stop.
"Harry? Harry!"
His scar had never hurt this much before, Harry was sure of it. The pain
crippled him, stole away his breath, and it lasted for hours and hours, or so
it felt.
Finally, it ebbed away, and Harry stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom in
Grimmauld Place.
"Harry? What on earth happened?"
Panting, Harry glanced down. The locket lay opened on his chest and Tom was
staring at him with wide eyes.
"A migraine, I think," Harry said in between sharp breaths. He had no idea how
to explain to Tom that the living Voldemort had been more pissed off than Harry
had ever felt him, and he was bearing the brunt of it.
Of course. The attack on Azkaban. The Order must have stopped Voldemort.
"Just a migraine? Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I feel better now," Harry said. And he did. God, he hoped the Order had
killed every last Death Eater.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
After spending some time fantasizing about Killing Curses striking Death Eaters
left and right, Harry fell asleep again.
An ice-cold hand clasped over his mouth, waking him in an instant. A dark
figure loomed over him, and it took Harry a few seconds to recognize Snape.
Shaking his head, Snape brought his free hand up to his face and pressed his
index finger to his lips, telling Harry to be quiet. Harry nodded, and lay
still as Snape grabbed the chain around Harry's neck and pulled the closed
locket off him. He placed it on the bedside table, and turned the lamp on.
Snape looked paler than usual, and when he tried to stand up, he grimaced.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, sitting up.
"It's nothing," Snape said, lowering himself to the bed to sit beside Harry.
"The Dark Lord needed someone to take his displeasure out on."
"The Cruciatus?" Harry guessed. Snape nodded, and Harry sprang into action at
once.
"You need to get warm," he said, pushing his sheets back. He hauled Snape
further onto the bed, and undid the laces of his shoes.
"Potter, I am a grown man," Snape objected, but Harry shushed him. He pulled
Snape's shoes off, and helped Snape bury his legs beneath the covers. Pulling
the sheets up to their chins, Harry pressed himself against Snape's side.
"Better?"
Snape said nothing, which Harry took for agreement. Below the covers he reached
for Snape's freezing hands and wrapped his own around them, rubbing softly.
Part of him couldn't believe he was doing that with Snape, but a far larger
part hated to see anyone, even Snape, hurt and gladly offered the comfort.
"You will be pleased to hear that both Wormtail and Bellatrix Lestrange
perished this evening," Snape said, turning his head to look at Harry.
That made Harry smile. "So the Order showed up?"
"The Order, the entire Auror department, and even a few Hit Wizards who had
volunteered to lend a hand. The Wizengamot had accepted a special decree,
licensing the use of the Killing Curse for this occasion. The Dark Lord's
troops were greatly outnumbered. They ran right into a trap."
"Good," Harry said. He was grinning by now. "Did they get any more Death
Eaters?"
"They did. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Amycus Carrow, Dolohov, Goyle.
They were all killed. They captured Travers, Rookwood, Mulciber, Nott and
Malfoy."
"Malfoy? You mean Draco?"
Snape nodded. "He'll be spending some time in a cell beside his father's."
"Wow," Harry said. "Does Vol -- he even have any followers left?"
"Not many," Snape said, and Harry saw his lips quirk. It was almost a smile.
"Hence his displeasure."
"Does he suspect you of giving us the information?"
"I don't believe so. I convinced him Draco had turned on him at the last
minute. I doubt I'd still be alive if he truly suspected me."
Harry repressed a shudder. "Did anyone on our side get hurt?"
"Some Aurors were killed, but I don't think you knew them. Moody was injured
badly. I saw Diggle, Jones and Doge take a few curses, but I am not sure of
their condition."
Harry tightened his hands around Snape's. "Maybe I should have offered to come
along. I didn't even -- "
"Potter, stop it," Snape said, black eyes narrowing. He nodded at the bedside
table. "You have your own task and that is all you should be concentrating on."
"I suppose." Harry glanced at the locket as well. It was still closed. "God, I
hope this all ends soon."
"You have only one more Horcrux to collect. You've already surpassed the
Headmaster's expectations."
"I'll get the last Horcrux next week," Harry said. "It's just...I keep thinking
I have all these puzzle pieces, but I haven't a clue how to put them together.
And I have to spend a lot of time with the locket and -- "
"He's getting to you?" Snape asked, squeezing Harry's hands. "The Dark Lord?"
"I guess so." Harry stared at Snape with wide eyes. "I mean, did you know he's
queer?"
Snape released a burst of laughter. "Yes, Potter, I knew that. However, you
don't seem exactly straight, either, so selling your body for his soul
shouldn't be such hard work."
"It's not my body, exactly, and that makes it very confusing." Harry looked
down. "And I'm not queer."
"You could have fooled me, Potter, when you molested me on your couch."
Harry released Snape's hands at once. "I didn't - did I molest you?"
Snape shook his head. "I was there. I could have stopped you had I wanted to."
"But you didn't." Harry gave Snape a suspicious look. "Why didn't you?"
"I needed the relief as much as you did," Snape said, shrugging.
"Oh. So you aren't queer, either?"
"I'm whatever it suits me to be, Potter," Snape said, moving his face closer to
Harry's. "And I am guessing you are the same, giving your willingness to spread
your legs for the Dark Lord."
Swallowing, Harry shifted away, shame weighing heavily on his chest. "It's not
like that."
"No? Then how is it?" Snape followed the small distance Harry moved.
"It just happened, and I went along with it."
"But do you enjoy it?" Snape whispered.
"Yes," Harry said, glaring. "I enjoy it. There. He's quite good at...sex, you
know?"
"I know." Snape's lips curled up, and Harry gaped at him. Snape knew? Snape
knew? "You seem surprised. Let me assure you, Potter, you are not the first
person to use sexual favors to their advantage, nor will you be the last."
Snape knew. Snape understood. Such need swelled in Harry's chest, such desire
to share this secret that tore at his conscience every time he let Voldemort
have him. He crushed his lips to Snape's, pouring all that need and desire in
the kiss.
It hurt, Snape's lips pressed so hard against his own, and Harry opened his
mouth and at once Snape's tongue teased his own.
Snape pulled back. "Molesting me again?" he asked, though he did pull Harry's
pajama shirt off over Harry's head.
"Shut up," Harry said, tugging on the buttons of Snape's robes. "I want this.
Do you want this?"
"Having sex with my seventeen-year-old former student? Happy birthday, by the
way, Potter. Well, let's say I am not hexing you to tiny bits, now am I?" Snape
helped Harry divest his robes.
"It's my birthday?"
"Yes. Now shut up." Snape, only dressed in black trousers and socks, yanked
Harry's pajama bottoms off, and rolled on top of him. The sheets had
disappeared somehow, and Harry sighed under Snape's weight.
"Take them off," he said, tugging on the waistband of Snape's trousers. Snape
leaned back onto his knees and pushed his trousers down. He had a great cock.
Harry hadn't really seen it the first time, but now he got a perfect eyeful. It
was thick and flushed and hard.
"Do you have something to ease the way?" Snape asked, as Harry spread his legs
and pulled his knees up to signal exactly what he wanted.
"Yeah." Harry reached out to his bedside table, fumbling for the drawer.
Instead of wood his fingers found metal.
A soft click echoed through the room with the force of a small explosion. Harry
froze and slowly glanced at the locket in his hands.
"Oh, don't stop on my account," Tom said.
Eyes wide, Harry looked up at Snape, who seemed equally frozen, one hand on
Harry's shin, the other one on his erection.
"My, my, this looks like quite the performance." Tom smiled, eyes glinting with
desire. "You do look absolutely delectable, spread out like that, Harry. I can
certainly see why Severus seems so eager to sample you."
"My Lord, forgive me," Snape said, but Tom shook his head.
"I don't blame you, Severus. In fact, I am quite interested to see you pleasure
my sweet boy."
Harry's cheeks flushed.
"If that is your wish, my Lord." Snape inclined his head and turned his
attention back to Harry. "In the drawer?"
"Er...yeah." Harry looked at Tom again. "It just kinda happened."
"It's all right, Harry. You are young and virile, and I don't mind watching
just this once. Place me on your bedside table."
Harry did, and he balanced the locket so Tom had a perfect view of the entire
bed. Snape had found the lotion, and two slick fingers probed Harry's entrance.
Harry inhaled a hissed breath as one slipped inside. Tom never touched him
there with his fingers. Then again, whatever he did with Tom was all in their
minds. No need for preparation if it was just a mind fuck.
"Grab the back of your knees, Harry," Tom said, his voice deepening. "Hold
yourself open for Severus. Show him how much you want to feel that thick
erection inside you."
Tom's words sent bolts of arousal through Harry, and combined with Snape's
fingers easing in and out of him Harry had to bite his lip to keep from
groaning. He did as Tom told him, and held himself open as best he could. His
arms were trembling.
Snape stared down at Harry, black eyes glinting, lips pursed as if in
concentration. He took his time, adding a third finger, thrusting them inside
Harry and stroking across his prostate with teasing touches.
"Please," Harry whispered when he couldn't stand it anymore. His cock was hard
and throbbing, silently begging for release. "Please, just fuck me."
"I'd best listen to him if I were you, Severus," Tom said, but Snape needed no
encouragement. He replaced his fingers with his cock, and with one quick thrust
he was inside Harry.
"Stay on your knees and fuck him slow and deep. You'll have him begging for
release in no time. And if you're really good, he'll for scream for it."
Snape bared his teeth and grasped Harry's thighs. He pulled his hips back ever
so slowly, and thrust back in at an even slower pace.
"Oh God," Harry groaned. Snape was just as big a tease as Tom was, and Harry
had no idea if he could survive this combination of Snape fucking him with Tom
watching and offering directions.
"Don't let him touch himself," Tom said, when Harry inched one hand towards his
throbbing prick. "If our boy wants to come, he'll have to do it from the touch
of your cock alone, Severus."
Biting his lip, Snape threw his head back, and Harry realized Tom's words were
affecting him as much as they did Harry. Snape sped up his thrusts a tiny bit,
and every time his cock brushed across Harry's prostate, Harry moaned.
"Harder." Harry bucked his hips, driving them against Snape. "Fuck. Me.
Harder."
"Not just yet," Tom whispered. "Wait for it."
Snape tightened his hold on Harry's thighs, and at the same time he slowed his
pace, his cock barely moving inside Harry's arse.
"Dammit, Snape!" Harry yelled, jerking his body in desperation. "I'll fucking
die if - You. Don't. Do. Something. Right. Now!"
"You are good. You've got him screaming already," Tom said, and chuckled. "Now
let him have it."
At once Snape pounded his cock inside Harry, shifting them both a foot higher
up the bed. Harry released his legs and grabbed hold of Snape's arms, and he
saw white and red and black as Snape fucked him with all his strength.
This was so much different than Tom fucking him, which was always warm and
brilliant, but this - this sheer force, the sounds of Snape's body slapping
against his own, the scent of Snape's sweat - this was all so much more real.
"Oh hell yes," Harry moaned and his balls tightened while Snape wasn't even
touching his cock, just fucking his arse so hard and so good.
"Look at him, Severus. He's so close. Make him come."
Harry sent a silent thank you Tom's way and stared up at Snape with what he
knew had to be a pleading look. The muscles in his legs tightened, his back
arched, his cock twitched, yet he hovered on the edge of climax, unable to find
his release.
Snape leaned down, face hovering above Harry's, never letting the pace of his
cock pounding inside falter. "Come, Potter," he said, sounding out of breath.
It was enough. Harry's eyes rolled back and his cock pulsed, and white hot
pleasure washed through him. He was blind, paralyzed, riding a high he never
wanted to come down from.
When his climax ebbed away, Harry became aware of Snape's body lying on top of
him, Snape panting in his ear and Snape's cock spurting his semen inside him.
Snape went slack, and Harry lowered his legs, stretching his strained muscles.
"Oh my," Tom said, awed. "Oh my, oh my."
Harry shared the sentiment. Who knew Snape would be the best fuck in the world?
And he hadn't just thought that. Harry blinked and glanced at Snape, who raised
his head to look at Harry. Snape's cheeks were flushed and his forehead shone
with perspiration.
"Wow," Harry said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Snape
remained silent, but he did look a little dazed, as though he wasn't sure how
he'd ended up on top of Harry with his spent cock stuck in Harry's arse.
"I see I have made the right choice," Tom said. Harry glanced at him, not sure
what Tom meant by that, but he was feeling too sated to really care.
He was also feeling a little suffocated, and he tapped Snape's shoulder.
"You're getting heavy."
"Potter, I am unable to move," Snape said against Harry's collarbone. "This is
apparently not the thing to do in my condition."
Harry frowned, and realized what Snape meant. He'd been under the Cruciatus not
long before, and then he'd pounded Harry into the mattress. "Oh," Harry said,
and gently shifted on his side so Snape landed face first on the mattress.
"Better?"
"I can't stay," Snape said, and groaned when he tried to push himself up.
"Don't be such a stubborn bastard," Harry said, getting up from the bed. "You
need rest. Get some sleep."
Snape managed to arch an eyebrow even with his face half-buried in the pillow.
"I'll keep watch and make sure no one sees you, all right? I'll just take a
shower. Don't move." Harry glared at Snape for good measure, and when Snape
didn't respond he walked into the bathroom and got the water running.
He washed his hair and ran a bar of soap over his body. God, but his arse was
sore. He'd had sex with Snape. Real sex. He could never tell anyone, he
realized, because they'd lock him up in St Mungo's psychiatric ward at once.
He didn't really understand it, either. He hated Snape. Didn't he? But he'd
needed this so much. He hadn't known a person could need something so badly.
Snape had given him pleasure and peace of mind, if only for a while. And with
everything going on around them, Harry needed that more than anything.
At one point he thought he heard voices, but when he stuck his head out of the
spray he didn't hear anything. Shrugging, he allowed himself a few more minutes
under the hot water, and then got out and dried off.
When he returned to his bedroom, Snape was gone.
"Severus offers you his apologies," Tom said. "He had other matters to attend
to."
Harry stared at Tom in disbelief. "Snape apologized?"
"Well, no," Tom said, grinning. "Actually, he just got up and left, but I'm
sure that was what he really meant to say."
Snickering, Harry sat down on his bed. "That's more like him. He's such a
bastard."
"You seemed to enjoy his attentions, though."
"Yeah," Harry said, looking at Tom. There was no denying that. "But he's still
a bastard."
Tom laughed, and for a brief moment, Harry joined him.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
When Harry was having breakfast - a bag of crisps and a glass of Pepsi -
Kingsley stopped by. Harry quickly stuffed the closed locket beneath one of the
couch cushions, and gave Kingsley a small smile when he entered the drawing
room.
"I'm glad to see you're still in one piece," Harry said, and meant it.
Kingsley grinned, seating himself beside Harry on the couch. "We got a lot
them. Seven dead and five captured. That was very good information you gave me,
Harry."
Harry shrugged. "I was just the messenger. Anyone hurt on our side?"
Kingsley's expression darkened. "Moody didn't make it. But he went down
fighting, and he took the brothers Lestrange with him."
Swallowing, Harry looked down. "I'm sorry."
"Me, too," Kingsley said, briefly touching Harry's shoulder. "It's what he'd
have wanted, though, to go like that."
"Yeah, I guess."
"We lost three Aurors. Good men. Other than that there have been some injuries,
curses mostly, but nothing people can't recover from."
Harry threw his bag of crisps on the table, his appetite gone.
"Harry, we're having an Order meeting at the Burrow tonight and we'd like you
to come."
Harry looked up at Kingsley in alarm. "Why?"
"Well, like I said before, your information was good, and we think it's for the
best if we combine our forces from now on."
"Er..." Harry bit his lip as Kingsley gave him an expectant look. "I can't.
Last night, my scar hurt. That means Voldemort might overhear things. It's not
safe."
Kingsley frowned. "Did something happen?"
"No, I don't think so." Harry rubbed his face, frustrated with the sense of
dread in his belly. He had no idea what it meant, just that something was up.
"Look, the thing I'm doing? It's going well. Obviously, the things the Order is
doing is going all right, too. Let's just keep it with that for now. If I get
more information, I'll let you know."
Kingsley stared at him for a while, concern tugging on his brow. Then he
nodded. "All right. If you need anything, you know where to find me." He got up
from the couch.
"Kingsley?" Harry scuffed his shoe across the floor, barely looking at
Kingsley. "I never thanked you for what you did."
"What I did?" Kingsley asked, crossing his arms.
"Not throwing my arse into Azkaban and, you know, being there when I was having
a rough time of it." Harry studied the seam of his t-shirt. "Anyway, thanks."
Kingsley smiled. "You're welcome. Take care, Harry."
"You, too."
After Kingsley left, Harry sipped his Pepsi and tried to identify the anxiety
plaguing his stomach. Was Voldemort listening in again? Had Voldemort been
listening in when he'd been with Snape early that morning? Did Voldemort know
Snape and Harry had fucked?
Harry shivered. If Voldemort knew, Snape was a dead man. Perhaps it was best if
he didn't see Snape again until the next week when Tom took him to get the last
Horcrux. Perhaps he shouldn't see anyone until that moment, just to be safe.
Hedwig flew down from the stairs and into the drawing room. She must have
entered through his opened bedroom window. She dropped an envelope in his lap,
and Harry gave her a brief scratch on the head before he opened it.
There was a card inside with a picture of a black puppy surrounded by balloons
on the front.
Harry,
I know the circumstances aren't as you'd want them to be, but I still want to
wish you a happy seventeenth birthday. Tonks sends her love as well. Be strong
and be brave, and if there is anything you need, do contact me.
Your friend,
Remus Lupin
Harry inhaled a deep, ragged breath, smiled at the photo of the black puppy,
and got up. Time for some groceries.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry sat across from Voldemort. Not Tom as Harry knew him from the locket. No,
this was Voldemort. Red, gleaming eyes, skin as white as a skull, slits for
nostrils and lips so thin Harry could hardly see them.
There was a cup of tea on the table in front of Voldemort, and as Harry looked
around he noticed a cup of tea in his own hands. Beside him on the couch sat
Snape, face impassive, as though he had tea with Harry and Voldemort in the
same room every evening. Harry didn't recognize the room, no matter how he
racked his brain.
"I am concerned about the boy," Voldemort said.
"We can handle the boy," Harry said. "Everything is ready."
Voldemort nodded. "They all die. Tonight."
"Yes, that would be for the best," Harry said. "You have the vials?"
Voldemort leaned across the table and dropped three vials into Harry's
outstretched hand. "Mix it with their tea. A fire should take care of the
rest."
"I will take care of it myself," Harry said, getting up from the couch. He
glanced at Snape. "Severus, you stay here with him - me. Ah, this is confusing,
isn't it?"
And Harry smiled at Voldemort, who smiled back, and panic rose in Harry's
chest, nearly cutting off his breath.
He needed to wake up! Voldemort was going to kill people, and Harry needed to
wake up!
"Sshh," Tom said, pressing closer to Harry on the grass near the sea. He pulled
up the blanket higher and higher until Harry almost suffocated. "Sleep, Harry.
It's almost over."
The Burrow burned. Flames licked the ink-black sky and the Dark Mark glowed
green. Harry stood in the garden and watched fire consuming the walls, windows
cracking, smoke billowing up.
Harry sat up with a gasp, and almost fell to the floor in his hurry to get out
of bed. He didn't look to see if Tom was awake. He rushed through the door, and
sat up in his bed at Grimmauld Place.
He needed to get to the Burrow. Voldemort had attacked the Burrow. Jumping up
from his bed, Harry looked around frantically. He needed his wand. He needed
his shoes.
What the hell was his invisibility cloak doing there lying on the bed? It had
been in his bag.
Blood drained from his face, and his knees buckled.
No. No way.
He just needed to get to the Burrow, and he needed his fucking wand. Under the
pillow. Harry reached over and felt the locket bounce against his chest. He
yanked it off so hard the chain snapped. He'd worry about that later. He needed
to get to the Burrow right now, because the whole Order was there, and they
couldn't all be dead.
His bedroom door slammed open and Snape stepped inside, carrying a snake. A
huge, dead snake.
"Snape?" Harry asked, so shocked about his sudden appearance he forgot all
about the Burrow for a minute.
"Your final Horcrux, Potter," Snape said, dumping the carcass on Harry's bed.
"Nagini?"
Snape nodded. "It's time you destroyed that locket."
Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. His dream rushed back and he grabbed
Snape's arm. "The Burrow. I need to get to the Burrow!"
"It's too late, Potter," Snape said, easing Harry's fingers off his arm. "The
Burrow was attacked a few hours ago. The Dark Lord wanted retaliation for the
loss of his Death Eaters."
His legs giving way, Harry dropped down on the bed, narrowly missing the dead
snake. "The Order?"
"Dead," Snape said. "Everyone who was there died, unfortunately."
Harry's eyes squeezed shut under the force of all the names that swarmed
through his mind. The Weasleys, Ginny, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley, Hagrid,
McGonagall. So many names, so many faces.
"Potter, snap out of it. Destroy the locket and everything will be over."
"Huh?" Harry looked up at Snape, barely understanding a word he said.
"Listen to me," Snape said, leaning closer, dark gaze fixed on Harry. "You will
destroy that locket, and after you do so I will return to the Dark Lord and
cast a Killing Curse on his arse, and then everything will be over,
understood?"
Mouth opened, Harry nodded. It was going to be over. Everyone was dead, but it
was going to be over.
God, he wanted it to be over.
Harry grabbed his wand and aimed it at the locket. He glanced up at Snape
again, just for a second, and narrowed his eyes. "Avada Kedavra!"
The green flash was followed by the sensation of a freight train running over
him. Harry fell backwards, right into Snape's arms. The pressure inside his
head made his eyeballs ache and his ears pop, and darkness overtook him.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Harry stood in front of Voldemort, Snape by his side.
"It is done?" Voldemort asked, and Harry nodded. "Very well." Voldemort handed
his wand to Harry. "Who will do the honors?"
Harry chuckled. "You can hardly expect me to kill myself. Severus?"
"It would be my pleasure, my Lord," Snape said smoothly.
"Of that I'm sure," Voldemort said, narrowing his red eyes at Snape. "Get on
with it."
Snape aimed his wand at Voldemort. "Avada Kedavra"
Harry fell and landed on his back in the grass. Waves crashed against rocks in
the distance and the sun warmed his face.
Tom was there, sitting down beside Harry. "Hello, my sweet boy."
"What's going on?" Harry asked, leaning up on his elbows and glaring at Tom.
"Everything's fine. You won't get hurt, I promise you that." Tom draped a thick
blanket around Harry's shoulders. "Sleep for a while, Harry. I'll wake you when
we're ready."
Harry had a million questions and even more accusations, but his eyelids grew
heavy and Tom wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder and pulled him close.
It was warm and safe, and when sleep came, Harry welcomed it.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
"Harry? It's time to wake up."
Waking up felt like bursting through the surface of Hogwarts' lake in his
fourth year. Harry gasped for breath, and at once a warm hand touched his
cheek.
"Sshh. Take a few slow, deep breaths. You're fine, I promise."
Harry did, and the colors around him took shape. He didn't recognize the room,
but he did know the person sitting on the bed, stroking his cheek.
It was Tom.
"There you are," Tom said, and glanced over his shoulder. "Severus, he's
awake."
Snape was there? Snape was in Tom's locket? No, Snape couldn't be inside the
locket. Besides, Harry had destroyed the locket.
With considerable effort Harry raised his head and saw Snape standing near a
large window, arms crossed as he stared outside. Instead of his usual black
robes he was wearing a navy shirt and black jeans. Tom was dressed in a similar
fashion, though his shirt was white.
"Hmm?" Snape said, and looked in their direction. "Ah, Mr Potter," he said, and
walked towards the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Confused," Harry said, frowning first at Snape and then at Tom. "How?"
"How?" Snape snorted. "Magic, of course. What else did you expect?"
Tom chuckled, shaking his head. "I know you have a lot of questions, Harry, and
I will answer them."
Harry closed his eyes, trying to call up his most recent memories. Things had
happened, lots of things had happened. But what things?
"Voldemort," he said to Snape. "You killed Voldemort."
"Hardly," Snape said.
"You're Voldemort," Harry said, turning towards Tom.
"Lord Voldemort is dead," Tom said. "They found his body. Sadly, they also
found your wand, Harry, and the other bodies in the room were too charred to
identify. The Ministry did receive a heartfelt letter from you in which you
announced your mission to defeat me, and in the case of your demise, what
should happen to the contents of your vault."
"Huh?"
"You left all your belongings to a wizard named Theodore Goldprince from
Sydney."
"Sydney?" Harry sat up and accepted the glass of water Tom handed him.
Snape rolled his eyes. "We're in Sydney, Potter. Australia."
"I know where Sydney is," Harry grumbled, and sipped his water.
"Now you two," Tom said, smiling. "Be nice."
Harry shook his head, trying to lose the numb feeling inside of it. "But I saw
Snape cast the Killing Curse on you. Voldemort."
"Voldemort could only die if all his Horcruxes were destroyed," Tom said.
"Nagini?" Harry guessed. "She wasn't the sixth Horcrux?"
"No, she wasn't. It pained me to kill her, but she'd have only got in the way
of my plans."
"But then -- " Harry shook his head again. It was like there was something
missing inside him, and there was a hole in its place.
"Perhaps you should just tell him," Snape said, exasperated. "Otherwise we'll
be playing his guessing game all week."
Harry glared at Snape, who gazed impassively back.
"Very well." Tom cleared his throat. "Actually, your little mudblood friend was
on the right track."
The expected flare of anger at the insult didn't come. Voldemort had just
called Hermione a mudblood, and Harry was numb inside.
"She theorized the soul will return to the body once the Horcrux is destroyed,
and if there is only one Horcrux that is the case. However, when I made my
Horcruxes, I took a few precautions."
Tom placed a hand on Harry's arm. "When you found my locket, you found not one,
but three pieces of my soul."
Harry's eyes widened. "The diary and the ring!"
"Indeed. I designed the locket to collect pieces of my soul from my other
Horcruxes in the case they were destroyed. Hence why I surrounded the locket
with such elaborate security."
Harry remembered the Inferi in the cave and shuddered.
"Your friend was wrong, though, that the magic of a Horcrux is lost when the
vessel is destroyed. It isn't. The magic from my diary transferred to the
locket, giving it a few perks, if you will."
"That's why the picture could talk," Harry mused.
"Yes. Now, when you destroyed the cup and the inkwell, those pieces of soul
joined the locket as well."
Worrying his lip, Harry glanced up at Tom. "You knew about that?"
Tom nodded, and Harry wondered why Tom hadn't killed him yet.
"Yes, Harry, I wanted you to find and destroy my Horcruxes."
Harry gaped at Tom. "Why on earth would you do that?"
Chuckling, Tom patted Harry's arm. "Because Dumbledore knew about them. His
precious Order knew about them. You knew about them. They were no longer safe,
and thus they were of no use."
"Ah." That made sense if Harry thought about it. "So you're mortal now?"
"Certainly not," Tom said, sounding vaguely offended.
"You're missing the point, Potter," Snape said. He sat down on the bed. "What
you should be asking him is what his sixth Horcrux is."
"What is your sixth Horcrux?" Harry whispered, a sense of dread filling his
stomach.
Tom leaned closer and touched his finger to Harry's scar. "You, Harry. The
keeper of my soul."
"Huh?" Harry said, because there was no way his mind could comprehend that
piece of information.
"It was an accident, and for some time I wasn't sure what to do with you. Until
you found my locket, and then everything fell right into place."
"You knew who I was when I found the locket, didn't you?"
"Of course. Though you played your role of my secret supporter admirably,
Harry."
Shoulders hunching, Harry plucked at the blanket covering him. "But how did you
set all this up? With Snape and with Voldemort? The living one, I mean."
"Every time you visited me inside my locket you opened your mind wide open to
me. Like an engraved invitation." Tom smiled when Harry looked up at him in
shock. "I told you we had a special connection. The piece of my soul inside you
made sure of that."
Memories rushed him and Harry fell back against the headboard. The Dursleys,
Dumbledore's office, the Burrow. "Oh God," he gasped, but the flare of pain he
expected didn't come. Instead his mind was telling him those events were
terrible, yet there were no emotions to follow it up. "You possessed me, didn't
you?"
"Finally," Snape said, throwing a hand up.
"Of course I did," Tom said, and grinned. "I had a few things to take care of
and you were the perfect way to do it. Though I am surprised you didn't figure
it out sooner, seeing that your little girlfriend suffered the same fate at one
point in your life." Tom shrugged. "Perhaps the death of your friends
distracted you."
Harry glared at Tom at the mention of Ron and Hermione, but instead of the
overwhelming grief he expected there was only a slight throb in his chest. "You
killed Ron and Hermione."
"Actually, no. That truly was an accident, though their deaths suited my plan
well enough."
"I should be upset by this. Why aren't I upset by this?" Harry muttered,
shaking his head again. If only that hole inside him would go away.
"We're getting there," Tom said, sounding perfectly cheerful. "Now, why this
elaborate plan, you ask?"
Harry nodded.
"I was low on supporters, Dumbledore's followers knew about my Horcruxes, and
the Ministry for once proved competent in their fight against me. I may be a
proud man, arrogant even, but I'm not stupid. I know when to cut my losses."
Tom glanced at Snape. "Severus was willing to assist me in reuniting my soul
inside of you, Harry, and brewing me a potion that gave me a new body. We
needed the old one to convince the world Lord Voldemort was dead, after all."
Harry stared at Snape in disbelief. "I thought you were loyal to Dumbledore at
the end."
Throwing his head back, Tom laughed. "Oh, I think Severus was only ever loyal
to himself."
Studying his fingernails, Snape huffed.
"Dumbledore trusted people were willing to die for his cause. But my experience
is that a man will go to great lengths when his life and freedom are at stake.
Isn't that so, Severus?"
Snape stared at some point on the other side of the room, but Harry saw his
lips quirk up. "Indeed."
Harry knew Snape had betrayed him, had betrayed Dumbledore, and yet there was
no stab in his gut or clenching in his chest.
"That brings us to the final part of my story," Tom said. He opened a drawer in
the bedside table and pulled out a wand. "Holly, phoenix feather. I had it
specially made for you, Harry, but before I give it to you I want you to listen
carefully."
"Sure," Harry said, itching to get his fingers on that wand.
"You cannot kill me, seeing as I have several new Horcruxes and one old one.
That would be you. I know you're thinking of killing yourself, but that would
still not kill me."
Harry frowned. That had crossed his mind for a second there.
"However, since you are my Horcrux, I have made sure you will live as long as I
do," Tom said. "Your encounter with Greyback was most fortunate for that piece
of my plan."
Harry's gaze shot up and he stared at Tom, stomach sinking.
"Yes, my sweet boy. I have made you a Horcrux of your very own. I won't tell
you where I have hidden it, so don't ask me. Severus doesn't know, just as I
don't know where he has hidden his Horcrux."
"You split my soul?" Harry asked, anger finally coloring his voice.
"Oh no," Tom said, and his smile was almost condescending. "You did that all on
your own, Harry, when you murdered Greyback. I merely extracted a piece of it
from your body and hid it away."
The anger that heated his chest drained away, and Harry opened his mouth, then
closed it again. He looked at the ceiling, Tom's hands, Snape's knees and
finally spotted the glass of water still in his own hands. He gulped it down.
"That's why I feel so numb," he whispered, daring a glance at Tom.
"You'll get used to it soon enough." Tom patted Harry's arm and took the empty
glass from him. "I find it very liberating to no longer be enslaved by
emotions."
He should be upset by this. He should be screaming bloody murder. He should be
launching himself at Tom - Voldemort - and throttling him with his bare hands.
Yet Harry did nothing but sit there and comprehend everything Tom had told him.
"I have told you all there is to tell, Harry. The air has been cleared. From
this point on we start anew." Tom pressed the wand in Harry's hand, and leaned
back, striking a casual pose. Snape looked equally unconcerned as he looked at
Harry.
It wasn't his own wand, Harry could feel that, yet the tingle of magic was
familiar. Harry looked at it, stroking a finger over the smooth wood. Tom
didn't have his wand out, and neither did Snape. He could kill them. He could
kill them both right there and be done with it.
But while his brain was telling him that, the rest of him was numb.
"So what happens now?" Harry asked, curling both hands around his wand. The
tingle of magic was soothing.
Tom rose from the bed, stretching his arms over his head. "Now we take a
vacation. And one day, perhaps, a Dark Lord will rise again, but for now I say
we should just enjoy ourselves."
Harry nodded. A vacation did sound nice. "Are you all right with all this?"
Harry asked, looking at Snape.
"I wouldn't be here if I weren't, Potter." Snape got up as well, brushing
invisible dirt off his jeans.
Tom pulled the blanket away from Harry. "How about a shower, Harry? And you
must be starving. You've been living on nutritional potions for the past two
weeks. Severus, some room service, if you will?"
Nodding, Snape reached for the phone beside the bed.
Two weeks? It had been two weeks? Room service? They were in a hotel, then.
Harry let Tom ease him up from the bed and support him as he stood. Two weeks.
"So Hermione's dead then?" he asked, leaning back against Tom's chest.
"She is. She died a few days after we left Britain."
Harry nodded. He'd been expecting that. "A shower does sound nice," he said,
and smiled at Tom.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
Snape sat against the headboard, a look of utter bliss on his face. Harry had
his lips wrapped around Snape's cock, and sucked it down every time Tom thrust
his cock inside Harry's arse.
"I have been waiting for this since the day you opened my locket, Harry," Tom
said, gripping Harry's hips tighter. Harry smiled around Snape's cock. "Finally
feel you around me, your body at my command."
Groaning, Harry balanced on one arm and wrapped his hand around Snape's shaft,
just below his lips. He sucked harder, and bucked back against Tom.
After a hot shower and an excellent steak dinner, Tom had made his wishes known
by pulling Harry close and devouring his mouth. And Harry had let him, the heat
of arousal flaring inside of him a welcome filler for the hole his soul had
left behind.
Snape rested his hand on Harry's head, guiding him down deeper and deeper, and
Tom groaned and fucked him harder. Tom reached his hand around Harry and
grasped his cock, and Harry's climax drew closer and closer.
Kill them, a voice inside his head kept telling him. But the rest of Harry
disagreed. The only thing he wanted was for Tom and Snape to fill the void
inside of him any way they could. Their heat, their cocks, their souls; it was
all better than feeling nothing at all.
                                   *0*0*0*0*
It was winter in Sydney, but the weather was mild for August, mild enough to
sit on the beach in a light jumper.
Harry watched Tom wade through the shallow waves, trouser legs rolled up and
shoes in his hand. He looked handsome and human and utterly content. Snape sat
beside Harry, knees drawn up, elbows resting on top. Harry had his legs
stretched out and picked up handfuls of sand only to watch it slip away through
his fingers.
"I did everything Dumbledore asked me to do," Harry said, more to himself than
to Snape. "I destroyed the Horcruxes. That's what Dumbledore told me to do.
That's all he told me."
Wind swept through Snape's black hair, and he brushed it off his face with a
lazy gesture. "It seems Dumbledore underestimated the Dark Lord. At least
certain parts of him."
Harry considered that and picked up more sand. He let it fall on his jeans
until most of his thigh was covered. "He's got me boxed in. I keep trying to
think of ways to fix everything, but there isn't one."
Snape snorted. "He might be a psychopath, but he isn't stupid, Potter."
Shrugging, Harry brushed the sand off his jeans, only to start dumping sand on
it all over again.
"What would you do?" Snape asked, glancing at him. "Go back to Britain? There
isn't anyone left to go back to."
"I know," Harry said. It was scary how little those words affected him.
Everyone was dead, Harry knew this, and yet he sat on a beach watching Tom
Riddle - Lord Voldemort - enjoy the feeling of waves around his bare feet.
"And do you think the Ministry would welcome you back with open arms?"
Harry shook his head.
"Well then." Snape tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "The Dark Lord is
dead, at least for now. Honestly, I don't know what you've done with him, but
that isn't the dark Lord."
"Huh?"
"Think, Potter," Snape said, staring at Harry with a challenge in his eyes. "He
could have killed you. Ten times over. He could have possessed you, marched you
straight to the living Dark Lord, have you hand over that blasted locket, and
let the living Dark Lord cast a Killing Curse to be done with it."
Harry looked at Snape with his mouth opened.
"Instead, he insisted you live, and he's been fussing over you like a mother
hen for the past two weeks." Snape wrinkled his nose. "If I didn't know him any
better I'd say he's besotted with you."
Perplexed, Harry glanced at Tom in the distance, unable to process what Snape
had just said. Tom met his gaze and smiled, and before Harry knew what he was
doing, he smiled back, warmth filling his belly.
"He likes me?" he asked Snape, mind reeling.
Snape rolled his eyes. "He certainly doesn't hate you. You'd be dead if that
were the case."
Dumping a handful of sand on his legs, Harry laughed. "Maybe Dumbledore was
onto something after all."
"What?" Snape asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Nothing. It's silly."
"Potter, out with it."
Harry inhaled a deep breath. "Dumbledore was always going on about how love was
stronger than anything else."
"Oh for..." Snape threw a handful of sand at Harry.
"Hey!" Harry brushed it off as though it had burned him.
"You've been burying yourself for the past half hour, Potter. A little more
won't hurt you."
"Yeah, but I had a system going," Harry said, a pout tugging on his lips. He
was in a playful mood all of sudden, and it made little sense to him. Then
again, nothing much made sense to him since he'd woken up after his two-week
nap. He spread his legs a little and started pushing sand together to make a
mountain. "Why did you accept his offer?" he asked, keeping his eyes on his new
project.
Snape remained quiet for a while, his eyes distant as he stared out over the
ocean. "I wanted to live," he finally said, voice subdued. "The Headmaster's
methods to ensure I did so proved useless. So I chose a less savory option." He
shrugged. "If that makes me a cold, heartless bastard, so be it."
"You're a bastard," Harry agreed, and bumped his shoulder against Snape's. "But
I'm glad you're here."
"Keep your juvenile affections to yourself," Snape said, yet he still bumped
his shoulder back against Harry's.
"It's a little cold still," Tom said, advancing on them with confident steps.
"But come summer this is a lovely spot to go for a swim." He sat down beside
Harry, shoes still in his hand. "What do you think?"
Harry looked into Tom's hazel eyes, his insides warming. "Sounds good."
Tom leaned closer and brushed his lips across Harry's. Smiling, Harry returned
the kiss, and deepened it, teasing Tom's tongue with his own.
Pulling back, Tom wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders. "You know, there's
a nudist beach not far from here. I was thinking that as soon as the weather
allows it we should check it out."
Harry snickered, sagging into Tom's embrace.
"What say you, Severus?" Tom asked, grinning at Snape over Harry's head.
"Absolutely not," Snape said, sneering.
Harry laughed, and the voice inside of him suggested it might be inappropriate
to laugh. But that voice had been getting softer and softer, seeming almost
like a memory that was not his own.
Tom held him close, and Harry knew as long as Tom warmed his insides like that
and filled whatever void there was inside of him, perhaps the situation didn't
need fixing at all.
~~fin~~
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