Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10942530.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort, Severus_Snape
  Additional Tags:
      Hogwarts_Seventh_Year, if_harry_hadn't_gone_looking_for_horcruxes, and
      voldemort_wants_harry_on_his_side, Suicidal_Harry, Abused_Harry, actual
      good_guy_severus_snape, snape_is_their_therapist_basically, Bisexual
      Harry_Potter, Demisexual_Tom_Riddle, Pansexual_author
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-19 Updated: 2018-03-20 Chapters: 22/32 Words: 83516
****** Things I love in this World ******
by awesome122316
Summary
     Harry's life is hard, but when he suffers another loss, he is pushed
     to the edge and intends to be killed at Voldemort's hand to end
     everything he hates in the world, but something unexpected happens.
Notes
     Before you begin reading, I just want to explain some formatting that
     I use and what it means.
     While speech is obviously in quotation marks (i.e. "Hello"), whispers
     will be formatted like this: 'Hello.'
     All Parseltongue will be between slashes (i.e. /Hello/).
     Thoughts will be italicized.
     Spells will be bolded and italicized.
***** Unconscious Fears and Disturbances *****
3rd_person_POV:
Harry's head popped off his pillow, and he stifled a scream that was trying to
erupt from his throat. His lungs burned, and his body was covered in a clammy
sweat that he could taste on the palms of his hands, covering his mouth. In his
chest, his heart throbbed and pounded, as if desperately trying to escape.
After a moment, he realized he had just woken, and his heavy panting soon
slowed to prevent himself from hyperventilating.
I should be used to these nightmares by now. But that one was so...real.
He knew for sure another would happen if he tried to sleep again. Normally, he
would look out his window and imagine how different his life would be as
someone else, but he didn't see any light indicating there was a window nearby.
Where am I? My room with Ron at the Burrow has a window, and at Hogwarts as
well. So if not the Burrow or Hogwarts, that means...he sighed inwardly. Crap.
He raised his hand, trying to feel for the ceiling of his tiny room under the
stairs that his horrid aunt had forced him back into. Apparently, Vernon had
decided to turn the other bedroom into some kind of sitting room, but Harry
knew they just loved to make his life a living hell. Sure enough, the ceiling
met his hand. He growled and cursed under his breath.
After lying down again and staring into the darkness for what seemed like hours
(but was only actually minutes), Harry heard some shuffling above him and a
familiar creak of the squeaky step on the stairs. He figured his pig of a
cousin was craving a late-night snack or something. The shuffling continued
around to the front of his door, then stopped. Harry's heart hammered in his
chest once more and blood rushed to his ears. He quickly laid back down and
pretended to be asleep.
His door opened, and moonlight spilled onto his eyelids, making the darkness in
them brighten into a deep purple. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and
pulled him up roughly, as if he were a rag doll. His eyes shot open and widened
at the man he saw before him: his uncle, half-dressed with only his sleeping
pants on, a familiar look in his eyes as he stared into Harry's fear-filled
green ones. Vernon cracked a wicked smile as whispered words fell off his
tongue, but never made their way to Harry's blood-rushed ears. Harry could just
make out the words on his lips.
I'm using you, Harry. You know what I need.
Tears erupted from Harry's eyes and his breath hitched. His hands came up to
frantically try and pry Vernon's large fingers from his shoulder, to no avail.
No. It can't be. Not again.
With disgust and white-hot fear in his heart, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and
screamed for someone to help him, but no voice came.
Harry's head shot off his pillow once more, another scream threatening to burst
from deep within his throat. Instead, he gasped as air rushed into his lungs,
tears streaming down his face.
Damn. Another bloody nightmare.
He didn't remember falling asleep again, but he obviously had. Or, maybe he
hadn't woken up in the first place. Regardless, he checked his surroundings
once more to verify that he wasn't back in that hell-hole. The window across
the room was filled with the vague pale light of the sun that would soon rise.
He realized he was, thankfully, at the Burrow, and Ron was still fast asleep on
the bed next to him. How his best friend could manage to stay asleep through
his nightmares, he would never know.
With his breathing back to normal and his nerves somewhat calmed, Harry laid
his head back on his pillow and awaited the day.
===============================================================================
 
Far away from Harry, a man was halfway asleep when he felt it: a little tingle
of panic right in the back of his head. It was small and insignificant, but he
was a light sleeper. He let out an irritated growl, knowing he would not get
back to sleep unless it went away. This tingle was about as irritating as
Pettigrew's whining, and that was wholly intolerable, though it caused him no
great problems.
With a roll of his eyes, he turned over in his bed. The little tingle seemed to
calm just a bit. Hoping it would continue to calm further, he decided to try
relaxing himself enough to reach sleep once more. He did what he usually did:
closed his eyes and ran through his day in his mind. It's not that his day was
particularly riveting, but he always figured that one could notice things one
may typically skip over while actually living. He had discovered, more than
once, that review is quite helpful to a dark lord.
After he had started his morning and his breakfast, Lucius entered with
Narcissa and Draco to say greetings before they went along with their day. Of
course, he knew it was just an attempt to get into his good graces, but he
couldn't help but feel like the Malfoy family relied on him to begin their day.
An evil smile came onto is face.
They worship me as a part of their daily ritual.
Taking a closer look, he discovered that Draco's proper business face showed a
hint of fear. He smiled to himself, knowing the effect he had on people, but
also noting that he would have to be sure not to scare him too much. When
followers became too scared, they weakened their loyalty. A weakened loyalty
led to them going behind his back to feel safe again.
As the Malfoy clan left, he could see Draco exhale in relief. Yes, he would be
sure to fix that...
Later on, he was in his study, brushing up on some ancient spells he thought
would be useful and practicing them wandless and/or wordless. One that had
particularly caught his eyes was Vivamus intercessiones. It apparently sent
electrical currents through the victim's body. While he originally thought it
did not sound like much, especially considering it doesn't hurt at all when one
is hit with the spell, he discovered that, theoretically, an oh-so-talented-
and-practiced caster is supposed to be able to control their movements and
brain functions with it. Obviously, it would take more practice than he had
time for, but it was nice to watch someone lose control of their motor
functions, if only for a few minutes. Looking back, he supposed it sounded like
a more complicated version of the Imperious Curse.
No matter. It is the fun that counts.
After that, he had another meeting with his Death Eaters that was oh-
so productive. They had discussed and revised most of the attack plans...again.
It was uneventful, if not purpose-less...
At that moment, the tingle returned. Voldemort opened his eyes and huffed.
Just when I thought the irritating sensation was gone for good...how terribly
inconvenient.
He wondered what could be causing it, but the answer came shortly after: Harry
Potter. He closed his eyes once more, cursing the day he went to murder that
child in Godric's Hollow. With a deep breath, he concentrated on the part of
his mind where the tingle was coming from. He could feel something there, so he
gave it a slight, mental nudge. It pushed back, and from that, a thought
squeezed out.
Damn. Another bloody nightmare.
Yes, it is definitely Potter, that insufferable brat. But at last, the
sensation was gone. Turning over once more, Voldemort finally settled down and
drifted back to sleep.
***** Breaking Point *****
Chapter Notes
     From here on out, I will be switching between different perspectives.
     Mostly, it will be Harry's POV, but please pay attention to who is
     speaking. I will put a label before each section saying who is
     speaking (unless it's not changing).
Harry’s_POV: 
My life has always been a mess. If I wasn’t getting abused by my crappy muggle
“family,” I was busy diving head-first into the war against my own will. And if
I wasn’t doing that, I was being yelled at for doing that previously. Recently,
it’s been more of the last one. I absolutely hated this stupid war more than
anything else. Not only was I dragged into the war at ELEVEN YEARS OF AGE, but
I was also expected to be the one to single-handedly win it. That was a lot to
take in, and even though I’d known about it for six (soon to be seven) years, I
still couldn’t believe it. Who the fuck puts all their faith into someone who
could hardly even perform magic outside of Hogwarts?
A constant topic of my scoldings happened to be how I am against people risking
their lives for me. They said it was selfish to think it was all for me, when
really it was “for the cause.” Bullshit. I amtheir cause. Without me, they
would think they’re prophesized to lose the battle. Hell, they might even
surrender. In my view, people were risking their lives, but they were doing so
for the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, not Harry Potter. Merlin, I hated that title. I
should make a list of things I hate.
Things I hate most in this world:
-This bloody fucking war
-Being the Boy-Who-Lived/Savior/Chosen One
-Uncle Vernon
I thought a moment more but couldn’t think of anything else. Even though I felt
as if I could smite the whole world, I knew I was just tired. I’m not actually
one who hates easily, but those three things had more than proven to make my
life worse at every turn. In my mind, I could actually rid of two of them by
just killing myself. But my damn whale of an uncle would still be alive and
well.
Sure, maybe I couldn’t bring myself to actually kill anything (maybe even my
evil uncle), but I was somehow different. For some reason, I felt like I could
have easily brought a knife to my throat, or a wand to my head with an Avada
Kedavra.
That sounds bad. But I’m not suicidal…right? Or maybe I am…just not in that
way…That doesn’t make sense.
I sighed. Even though the war was the bane of my existence, I would risk my
life in it. That was the Gryffindor inside me talking, of course.
I used to run straight into anything, but now even that has been taken away.
Yeah, so it’s dangerous. And yeah, it’s stupid. But (and Ihateto play this
card, but) I’m the bloody Boy-Who-Won’t-Die. What makes them think I’ll die
now?
Scratch that last question. My friends thought I was completely ready to die
because of…well, everything. I wasn’t really trying to kill myself. I just
wanted to get the whole thing over with. But that was another thing: everyone
wanted the war to end so everything would go “back to normal,” but I never had
a normal.
I don’t know what I’ll do after the war, if I’m alive.
It was around that point that I sighed again and thought, Screw it. I might not
even be alive.
I knew for a fact that Voldemort wanted to kill me, if not let one of his Death
Eaters who hated me do it. And if that had not meant that I failed the one task
I was born for, I might have let them do it. But I can’t just let everyone
down. Not Hermione and Ron, or the Order, or Dumbledore, or any of the wizards
whose names I didn’t know who were relying on me to save them. And I had to do
it for all those who gave their lives fighting. I didn’t want them to have died
in vain.
The sun was finally up in the sky, so I sat up in bed and pushed away the
thoughts that had plagued my mind for the past few hours. I was about to wake
up Ron, but I decided against it.
He deserves to sleep, I guess.
I got out of bed, quietly got ready, and headed down to the kitchen to see if
anyone was up. No one was there. The kitchen was still messy from dinner
yesterday, so I took it upon myself to clean it up. Mrs. Weasley always told me
I didn’t have to worry about cleaning anything, but after living in that hell-
hole with Uncle Vermin (spelling intended), my wicked Aunt Petunia, and my pig
cousin Dudley, it was a habit I had to give into. The pile of dishes by the
sink was tall, and the countertops were covered with some sort of sauce.
What did we have for dinner yesterday? I can hardly remember.
I shrugged and started on the dishes the muggle way since I couldn’t remember
the spell for it. I had gotten about halfway through washing when Mrs. Weasley
woke up and came into the kitchen.
“Harry James Potter,” she said firmly, “what on Earth do you think you’re
doing?”
I smiled and dried off my hands, knowing I wouldn’t be able to continue. “I was
just cleaning the dishes. They were dirty still, so I figured you could use
some help…”
“Harry, dear, I don’t need any help. I am just fine.” She gave me one of her
motherly smiles that always made me feel so loved, and she patted my cheek.
“Now, run along and wake up Ron. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be late for
breakfast, and Merlin knows how long it takes to wake him so close to school
starting again…”
I laughed, knowing just how right she was. “Yes, ma’am.” I smiled and went back
into our room. Ron hadn’t budged an inch from when I saw him last. His bright
red hair was strewn about him, hiding much of his face, and his arms made him
look like one of those chalk outlines of dead bodies in those really old muggle
movies.
“Ron, wake up.” I shook his shoulders hard, but he just groaned and turned the
other way. I sighed. “Come on, Ron. You can’t sleep all day. You’ll get hungry
eventually.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, planning ways to wake him. Yesterday, I let Fred
and George wake him with one of their noise buzzers and a bucket of cold water.
His face was priceless.
“Ron, don’t make me get Fred and George in here again…”
I felt Ron tense on the bed. “You wouldn’t…”
“Try me,” I said. “You know how they love to try out their new inventions,
especially on you.”
Ron groaned before sitting up. “Aw Harry, I couldn’t get five more minutes?”
I scoffed. “No, because you’re five minutes is more like twenty.” I smiled and
nudged his arm. “Anyways, you don’t want to be late for breakfast.”
He grinned. “Yeah. I’m starvin’.” He pushed his legs off the bed and stood.
“Okay good,” I said standing, too. “I’ll be outside. And don’t you dare go back
to sleep.”
“I won’t, Mother,” he retorted.
We both laughed, and I left to go outside. The day was already warming up,
though it was still a bit chilly. I always enjoyed watching how the morning
changed everything outside. The once dark sky would lighten into pink and
orange, then fade into blue. I never understood why the sky changed colors (too
much science for me), but I enjoyed watching. The mornings were so peaceful
(unlike the day when everyone bustled about, or even the night with Bill, Fred,
and George snoring). I never made a noise for fear I might interrupt the peace.
It was nice sometimes to just get away from everything, even if only for a
moment.
Ron came and sat beside me. “Hey mate, what’cha doing?”
“I’m just enjoying the peace. It’s nice sometimes, ya’ know?”
We sat in silence for a few minutes before Ginny came to tell us breakfast was
almost ready. She was as beautiful as ever with the morning sun reflecting off
her silky red hair and her eyes filled with happiness. Of course, we weren’t
into each other anymore, mostly because the whole saving-her-life-from-Tom-
Riddle feelings wore off. We decided to stay friends, but every now and then, I
remember just why I had liked her in the first place. She was so…stable. It was
as if nothing could affect her. I admired that about her, being my exact
opposite. I was so unstable. Every loss I suffered only increased that. I hated
feeling so vulnerable.
“You coming, Harry?” Ron asked from the doorway.
“Yeah, sorry. Lost in thought.” I joined Ron and went to eat breakfast, pushing
my thoughts to the back of my mind.
We finished breakfast and went outside to wait for Hermione to arrive with Luna
and Neville. Luna and Neville had been “really good friends” for quite a while
now, so Hermione had been trying to convince Neville to ask her on a date, but
he was a little nervous. And by little, I mean he would absolutely freak every
time he thought about it, so it was still a work-in-progress. It was sort of
funny to watch, actually.
“Hey Harry,” Ron said, uncertainty in his tone, eyes never moving from the spot
in the distance where Hermione, Luna, and Neville would land.
“Yeah Ron? What’s wrong?”
“’Mione is always on time. She’s never usually this late. What do you think is
taking her so long?”
“She’s probably just talking to Neville about Luna again. You know how well
that always goes.”
We both chuckled a bit.
“Yeah, I guess,” Ron said. “I just…something’s off. I can feel it. Maybe I’m
just worrying too much.”
“Hermione might be rubbing off on you, Ron.” I smiled, trying to ease his
worrying. “I’m sure there’s nothing to be-”
A scream rang out in the distance, silencing whatever I was going to say. Ron
and I looked at each other, horror in our eyes as we confirmed that we both
recognized the sound.
Without further hesitation, we were running to it. Time seemed to slow. Ron and
I couldn’t move fast enough. We needed to get there now, but our legs could
only move in slow motion. Tears began to run down Ron’s cheeks, and he knew he
was right. Something was terribly wrong. We didn’t hear any more noise come
from the field after that scream, but Ron and I kept running towards the
source. One word repeatedly erupted from Ron’s throat, hoarse and frightened,
but loud and urgent. I could barely hear it over the adrenaline pumping in my
ears and the thumps of my feet hitting the ground, but it rang through the now
quiet field.
“HERMIONE! HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”
Time returned to normal speed as we arrived to a beat-up body of Hermione
leaning over something. Hermione’s back was moving slightly as she looked over
the lump in her lap. Ron immediately ran over to her side, but I stayed back,
staring at the lump. Ruffled black hair stood out, blood crusted and greasy.
Hermione turned her head onto Ron’s shoulder and her quiet sobbing continued.
Ron was also looking at the mangled body.
“Bloody ‘ell…Neville?”
I walked over to face Hermione and crouched down in front of her. Neville was
bruised, pale, and sweaty, even though his skin was clammy. His nose had dried
blood all around it and his breathing was shallow, but he was breathing. We
were immediately surrounded by the rest of the Weasley family, lifting up
Neville and helping us up to get back to the safety of The Burrow. Right before
I was in front of the door, I froze, coming to a sudden realization.
“Hermione…” I asked quietly, “Where…where’s Luna?”
I heard Hermione behind me let out a small whimper. I turned and faced her, my
face full of anger of an unknown origin. Fury was building inside of me, and I
clenched my fists to keep from yelling.
“Where. Is. Luna?”
Hermione’s scared eyes filled with more tears as she covered her mouth and
shook her head. Everyone continued inside, but I stood by the doorway. Luna
was…what? What had happened to them? I leaned against the side of the house and
slid down to the ground, knowing this was somehow my fault.
After some time, I got up and went inside. Hermione was calmer now, her wounds
healed, but her eyes were still bloodshot and scared. Ron had a hand on her
shoulder, trying to reassure her.
“Just tell us what happened, ‘Mione.”
She took a shaky breath before starting.
“We were walking through Diagon Alley, like we always do before coming here.
Luna said someone was following us, so we went and hid on the side of a shop,
but someone grabbed us and apparated somewhere. It was dark, and I could hardly
see a thing. Neville started screaming next to me, and someone hit me with a
Cruciatus Curse. All of us were screaming. When they let go of the curse on me,
I grabbed my wand, then Neville and Luna and was about to apparate out, but
someone grabbed Luna, and I only made it back with…” tears filled her eyes
again, and she let out a sob.
My fists shook, and my eyes went blurry and red.
They took Luna. And Merlin only knows what they are doing to her. She might
even be…No! Not another person lost. Not for me. What the bloody hell do they
want with Luna? Do they just love taking my friends from me?
I squeezed my eyes shut to keep my anger under control, and tears poured out.
My knees hit the ground hard, and I punched the floor with all my might.
Someone had their hand on my shoulder.
“It’s okay, Harry. We’ll find her and…”
“NO!” I screamed. This was the final straw. “IT’S NOT OKAY! THEY CAN’T TAKE
ANYONE ELSE AWAY FROM ME! NOT ANYMORE! I CAN’T LOSE ANYONE ELSE! I CAN’T-” my
voice cracked. I punched the floor again, but my anger had disappeared, sorrow
in its place.
“I can’t…lose anyone else.”
Hot tears slid down my face. Someone wrapped their arms around my shoulders,
but I pushed them off. I got up off the floor and went outside without meeting
anyone’s eyes. I ran back out into the field, hiding in the tall plants. In a
moment, my wand was in my hands, and I disapparated.
***** The Ultimate Deal *****
Chapter Notes
     Trigger Warning: This chapter contains a character's suicidal
     thoughts. If you read and feel influenced by them, please know that
     you are a beautiful person who deserves every bit of life they will
     naturally get. If you feel alone, you can always talk to me. I know
     what it's like.
Voldemort’s_POV:
I smiled to myself when the news came. It had not been planned, exactly, but my
Death Eaters were always ones to reach for opportunities. According to the
news, one of the members of the famous “Golden Trio” was found in Diagon Alley
with some schoolmates. One of my (lesser) Death Eaters ambushed them and had
taken the students to the dungeons.
Of course, shortly after, I also received news that this (lesser) Death Eater
had also neglected to remove their wands. Thus, two escaped, including the
ever-elusive mudblood.
She is an intelligent witch, I will give her that. No matter. Any friend of
Harry Potter’s will do.
And right on cue, I felt that tingle in the back of my head. I chuckled darkly,
content with the results.
With a wave of my wand and a silent Morsmordre,I sent a call to my Death
Eaters. Before stepping out of the hallway, I ensured my hood fully hid my
face. I made my way to my chair at the end of the long meeting table where a
few Death Eaters already sat. One by one, more arrived, and before long, all of
my followers were in front of me, silent, waiting for me to speak.
“Well, it seems that we have captured one of Potter’s friends,” I said to the
room, my eyes running over every face, searching for nervousness and regret.
“What shall we do now? I have a few ideas, but I want to see what…” I searched
for the perfect word while building an atmosphere of suspense, “glorious ideas
my followers have for me.”
Who is brave enough to speak?
“My lord?”
My eyes darted to meet those of the person who just spoke: one of my younger
Death Eaters, platinum blonde hair just barely sticking out of his dark hood. I
gave a small nod, allowing him to continue.
“I’m sure the idea has passed your mind,” he continued, “but what if we traded
the girl for Potter?”
I showed no hint of emotion when I asked, “And why would they give up Potter
for some girl?”
This is all part of the lesson.And it was. Nothing was more necessary than
getting the young ones into the proper mindset.
“They wouldn’t trade, my Lord. Potter would. Trying to barter with The Order
would be foolish…but Potter would trust what we say. He would sacrifice himself
to keep his friend safe.” The young Malfoy gave a soft scoff and muttered, “He
is a Gryffindor after all.”
I thought over what he had just stated. It had occurred to me that Potter would
consider the trade, but never that he would actually agree to it. Then again,
Draco did know Potter better than I.
I suppose he will not betray me, as I had feared. He may be a great and loyal
follower, yet.
“Excellent,” I praised softly. Eyes around the room grew wider. I was not one
to praise easily. “You have much potential in this project. I wish to speak
with the young Malfoy about this event. Privately. I will notify you if your
service is needed.”
I waved a hand, as if to shoo them. With that, most of the Death Eaters left,
with the exception of Draco, Lucius, and Bellatrix.
“I thought I asked to speak to Draco,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. I
did not appreciate waiting. “Leave so we may have our peace.”
“But my Lord-” Bellatrix began.
“Now.”
Without any further arguments, Bellatrix disapperated in a huff, but Lucius
remained.
“My Lord, I will return later to discuss this with you, since you require my
son.”
Lucius left, leaving behind a frightened young boy.
“Draco, my child, there is no need to be frightened of me at this moment.” I
pulled back my hood, revealing my new face (or rather, my old one): young and
warm, slightly rosy at the apples of my cheeks, and most importantly,
charmingly handsome. “You should be proud that you have been asked to
personally plan this trade with me.” I beckoned him forward.
He placed his steps, a careful neutral expression on his face, until he was a
few feet from my throne. I cast a silencing charm to prevent any unwanted ears
from hearing.
Suddenly, the tingle in the back of my head died out, then grew to twice its
original size.
My Potter, it seems the Draco was right…
My head began to ache slowly, as if the tingle was taking over.
Insufferable brat!
A quick Accio, and a pain reliever was in my hand. After a sip, I turned my
attention back to the boy.
“It seems that Potter has, indeed, been heavily affected. How exactly shall we
propose this trade?”
“Well…” Draco began before adding, “My Lord,” for formalities. “Potter has
always been one to lose his temper over things like this. He has probably
locked himself in a room, or isolated himself somehow. I imagine it would be
easy to send him an owl without alerting The Order or his friends. Tell him to
meet you somewhere you both know, and that Luna will be released unharmed if he
will give himself up. He will fall for it easily enough.”
Another Accio and a quill and parchment appeared in my young hand.
Incredible.I still marveled at the effects of Snape’s potion on me.
I quickly wrote the letter, then pricked the palm of my hand and smeared the
blood on it.
“Morsmordre.” The ink instantly became red and my name signed itself on the
bottom. Tom Riddle. I hated my given name, but I figured Potter would know it
was certainly mine, no matter how improbable he thought it.
Draco came back to my throne with one of my eagle owls on his arm. Before tying
the note to the owl’s leg, I summoned Lucius, Severus, and some other loyal
Death Eaters, minus Bellatrix.
She can ruin a delicate situation like this. I don’t need her carelessness.
I sent off the owl just as they all appeared before me.
“Now,” I announced, “we shall wait for him. To the Forbidden Forest!” I raised
my wand and disapparated, ten others following behind.
===============================================================================
 Harry’s_POV:
I’m numb. Why am I numb? I should be furious!  I should be lashing out, diving
head-first into battle with whoever did that to Hermione and Neville…to whoever
took Luna away and possibly killed her.
But there was no fight left in me.
All at once, there were people around me; ones who died in battle, or in an
ambush, or by His filthy hands. It was everyone I cared about, who gave their
lives for me. There were so many. They all surrounded me, too close. It was
hard to breathe. I was getting claustrophobic. My chest had pressure on it. But
they kept coming closer.
Help us, Harry, they said. You are our only hope. Don’t let us die. We loved
you. We still do. Help us. We need you…
“Get away from me!” I tried to yell, but my voice was hoarse. My eyes shut
tightly, and I pulled my knees into my chest. I just wanted them to go away,
but it was like they always haunted me. I opened my eyes again, and they were
gone. Tears fled from my eyes. I hated this.
Things I hate in this world:
-This bloody fucking war
-Being the Boy-Who-Lived/Savior/Chosen One
-Uncle Vernon
-Being haunted by dead people I cared about
Reciting the list had calmed me a bit. My chest didn’t hurt so much, and my
eyes didn’t sting so much. I looked around me.
Am I in some type of sewer? Oh, this is where I used magic to fight off that
dementor right in front of Dudley. What a great memorythatis…I sighed. At least
no one will find me here. ThankMerlin.
I really needed to take things in. Nothing felt right anymore. I didn’t want to
fight this bloody war anymore. I refused to let anything else bad happen to
anyone I cared about. I needed to end it. I was so sick of everything. My tears
stopped flowing, but I stayed with my knees to my chest against the cold, wet
metal.
I don’t deserve to go back to people who love me.Iam the cause of all of this.
But I’m somehow also the answer? That doesn’t make sense. I’m the reason all my
friends are getting hurt, or killed. But I’m supposed to be some kind of
savior? I don’t feel like a savior. No matter what I do, people around me were
always getting hurt…
Self-revelation hit me. The answer was always there, but never before had it
seemed so possible. 
If I’m not around, people I care about won’t get hurt. If I’m not alive, the
war will end. It would all be over…
I grabbed my wand. I knew some pretty nasty spells, but only one that would
kill. Putting it to my temple, the words were in my mind and on the tip of my
tongue. I was ready.
Before I even finished taking the breath to say the incantation, an owl, unlike
any I had ever seen, landed in front of me with a note tied to its leg.
Frustrated tears poured down my cheeks. I lowered my wand and untied the note
from the owl’s leg. When I opened it, I realized it was written entirely in
blood, and the tears faded almost instantly. My eyes widened. If the contents
of the note weren’t shocking enough, the signature at the bottom was. The Dark
Lord himself wanted to trade me for Luna. It was almost too good to be true.
Luna’s still alive? I out a breath of relief. And I can save her! But wait…
Some problem showed itself. How could I make sure Luna is safe if I’m a
prisoner? Or dead? Well, I’m sure there’s something I can do. I’ll figure it
out when I get here.
I lifted my wand, a perfect picture of the edge of the Forbidden forest in my
head, and disapparated.
===============================================================================
3rd_Person_POV:
With a crack, Harry landed at the very edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was
dark and ominous as always, the darkening sky creating shadows over the bare
branches. Harry silenced his feet and walked carefully into the forest, ducking
under branches and watching for any movement that would show a trap of some
sort. He wondered around aimlessly for a while, not finding a single sign of
life. His nerves were starting to get the better of him when he found a
clearing. Stepping into the open space, he saw no one around.
Well, if I can’t find him,he thought, he can find me.
He lifted his wand into the sky and sent a bright red flare above his head that
he was sure was hard to miss.
Voldemort had been around a while and was beginning to think Potter had not
taken his bait when he saw the flare.
“It seems,” he purred to his Death Eaters, “Harry wants us to go to him.” A
wicked grin grew on his face, cloaked in shadows, and he began walking towards
where the flare had come from. His Death Eaters formed a line to follow.
“My Lord,” Lucius said quietly from behind, “a reply.”
Voldemort nodded his head before raising his wand and uttering “Morsmodre” into
the sky. The clouds darkened, and a green skull appeared, a snake slithering
out of its mouth with a silent hiss.
Needless to say, Harry knew he was coming. Harry tried to get into some type of
position that would ready him for whatever Voldemort threw at him, but in all
honesty, he knew there was nothing he could do to prepare himself for this
meeting.
Several long seconds passed before Harry saw Voldemort enter the clearing.
His Death Eaters are following behind him like ducklings.
Harry tried to stop a smile from appearing on his face. That’s a terrible
comparison. Then, he couldn’t help but imagine Voldemort, his pale snake-like
face with no nose, in a duck costume.
Harry grinned and let go of a small laugh. He couldn’t help himself.
Maybe I’m going crazy.
“Something funny, Potter?” one of the cloaked beings spat. He immediately
recognized it.
“Well, Malfoy, I was just enjoying the last minutes of craziness I have before
I die.”
The clearing fell silent. The Death Eaters were shocked, to say the least, and
Voldemort smiled a small, sideways grin.
“And what makes you think I am here to kill you? We have business to attend to,
yes?” He dropped his hood and revealed his young face.
Harry’s eyes fell on it with surprise. He wasn’t expecting this. It was almost
like the Tom Riddle he had seen in the Chamber of Secrets, but slightly older.
His face was…well, human, and not the least bit repulsive. And he had a nose.
“Well,” Harry shrugged, “I guess I just assumed I was here to save Luna, and
then you could satisfy your long-time goal of killing me. Which speaking of,
where is Luna?”
“She is safe,” one of the Death Eaters said. “Once an agreement has been
reached, we will retrieve her.”
“Then let’s get on with it,” Harry pushed. “I will become your captive after I
have assured that Luna is safe.”
“Oh?” Voldemort cocked a brow. “And how do you intend to do that?”
“I will take her to a safe place, with people who will care for her, then come
back,” Harry replied, his eyes still taking in the features of Voldemort’s new
face.
“Really, Potter? How stupid do you think we are?” Draco scoffed. “You wouldn’t
return.”
“He would if under magical oath,” Voldemort said. He walked forward and
beckoned Lucius after him. Lucius held his wand firmly and began to recite the
terms of the oath.
“Potter, you will escort Luna to safety and return to the Dark Lord quickly,
without arguing or resisting, if…” he turned to Voldemort, “The Dark Lord
brings her forth unharmed.”
“And will never hurt any of my friends, ever,” Harry added.
“And,” Lucius continued, pausing to give a questioning look to Voldemort, who
gave half a shrug. “The Dark Lord will not harm a select few of the people
Harry cares for.”
Voldemort pondered a second. “I will give you eight people to save. Name them
now.”
“Uh…” Names ran through Harry’s head at light speed, but his mouth fell behind.
“Hermione Granger. Ronald Weasley. Luna Lovegood. Neville Longbottom. Molly
Weasley…” He slowly realized he was running out of space.
Only eight? Who else really needs it?
“Ginny Weasley…Remus Lupin…”
Voldemort anticipated hearing Harry say his own name to ensure he wouldn’t be
harmed. That would be the intelligent thing to do. He didn’t mind.
Harry shook his head as he made a hard decision mentally. Guilt washed over him
immediately. “George Weasley.”
Voldemort’s eyebrows rose. He wasn’t expecting that. Lucius finished the spell,
and the deal was made. Voldemort motioned back towards his Death Eaters.
“My, Harry,” Voldemort said, sizing Harry up. “I suppose you really do not have
anything up your sleeve. How idiotic.”
Two Death Eaters came back, Luna and her wand in tow. She was quickly handed
over to Harry.
“Hello Harry. What’s all this?” she greeted, the same dreamy stare in her eyes
as if it were a normal, casual conversation and she was not covered in dirt,
blood, and sweat.
“I’m saving you, Luna,” Harry said, grabbing her arm and disapperating.
They appeared in the field outside the Burrow, and Harry let go of Luna to
begin running to the house, Luna not far behind.
Upon hearing the crack, the Weasley family ran outside to find Harry and Luna
heading towards them.
“Harry!” Hermione ran to him, hugging him once she reached him. “Harry, we were
worried sick.” She pulled back, a relieved smile on her face. “How did you get
Luna back?”
By then, the group was around them. They all patted Harry on the back and asked
Luna how she felt. Ron came up and clapped Harry on the back hard.
“Must ‘ave battled them, huh?” he said with a chuckle.
“But he doesn’t have any scratches,” Hermione commented, her relieved face gone
as she noticed the expression on Harry’s face.
Ron was starting to sense it too. “Must’ve been some…terrible guards then.”
“It wasn’t a fight,” Harry admitted quietly. Everyone around him fell into
silence. “I…made an agreement. I’m sorry. I promise this whole thing will be
over shortly. You’re safe now.”
Fear prickled at their eyes.
“Harry,” Hermione said carefully. “What are you talking about? What agreement?”
Harry sighed. “I’m really sorry.” In an instant, his wand was out, and before
any of them could stop him, he was gone.
Voldemort was growing impatient. The deal was that he return quickly. Of
course, not even a minute had passed, but it seemed like so much longer.
The uncomfortable stiffness subsided as Harry arrived with a crack. He faced
the opposite direction from where Voldemort stood, but was so close.
On a whim, Voldemort placed his hands onto Harry’s shoulders and whispered into
his ear, “And now, you belong to me, Boy-Who-Lived.”
***** True Intentions *****
Chapter Notes
     I switch a lot between points of view in this chapter. Please make
     sure you know who is talking, so as not to be confused. I tried to
     make the indicators as visible as possisble for each section.
Harry’s_POV:
I passed out. It was completely cowardly (not to mention un-manly), but I
couldn’t help it. I was so shocked from what Tom did. I mean, what kind of dark
lord walks up behind his enemy, put his hands on him, and whispers “You belong
to me” in his ear? His voice was so deep and possessive…I thought I was going
to be chained up in a sex dungeon or something.
After that, I really wished I hadn’t woken. I’d rather he had just killed me
while I couldn’t fight back, but my “luck” said otherwise. I slowly came into
consciousness, the memory of what happened and shame already filling my head,
and I almost groaned.
Surely, he has some sort of torture lined up for me. Hopefully not the sexual
kind. Bloody hell…
After much convincing, I finally got my eyes open, only to feel my head begin
to reel again with what I saw. I wasn’t in any sort of dungeon or cell. There
weren’t chains around my wrists and ankles, but dark green blankets and a black
pillow by my head. I slowly ran my fingers over it.
It’s silk. Silk pillow case.I ran my fingers along the sheets. More silk.
My eyes moved from the bed I was in to the room around me. It was decorated in
a gothic style with dark green accents here and there, like on the curtains,
bed, and lamps. The rest of the room was black. A classic black desk sat to my
left with black bookcases filled to the brim beside it. A comfy black and gray
cushioned chair was on the other side of the room next to a door slightly open,
a silver-framed mirror barely visible through it. Another door was to its right
and was sealed.
Bloody hell…I swear to Merlin, if I’m naked…
Finally, I looked down at myself.
I was wearing dark gold and red silk sleeping pants and button-down shirt. They
were amazingly comfortable (and pretty manly, I’d say). The scars I had
collected on my hand were gone. I rolled up my sleeves and lifted up my shirt,
only to find those scars were gone, too.
Bloody hell…
I touched my forehead with panic, only to breathe a sigh of relief.
No, not all of them.
The lightning mark was still there, and it felt like nothing about it had
changed.
Well, let’s see what all there is to see, then.
I flung my legs off to the side of the bed and stood abruptly to walk over to
the closed door, only to begin seeing black spots in my vision and feeling my
head go dizzy.
Bloody hell.
I fell to my knees before I could gain a grip on my vision and dizziness. I
shut my eyes tightly, trying to banish the black spots, when I heard the door
open.
Bloody hell.
When I opened my eyes, Tom looked down on me. His eyes were still red, like
when he had that snake face, but his body was distinctly young, maybe slightly
older than I was.
“Good morning, Harry,” he said cheerfully. “Did you have a pleasant rest?”
I’ve gone mad, I thought. Bloody fucking hell.
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
I was in my study when I heard the distinct pop of a house elf.
“Master, Mr. Potter is awake,” a squeaky voice told me.
“Very well,” I answered, using a bookmark to pause my studies. I stood and
walked down the hall to the room I had given him. It had been quite a shock to
him, I suppose, when I said he “belonged to me.” Of course, afterwards, my
Death Eaters had to stifle their humor, with the exception of Draco, who did
not bother to hold in his guffaw. He called him names and generally made a
point of being childish. While I must admit it was…something to see Harry
faint, it was not funny. It was adverse, certainly, possibly even pathetic, but
not funny.
I carried him myself to this extra room in my manor. I can only imagine his
reaction to waking up in a room rather than a grave. He was quite convinced
that I wanted to kill him, but that wasn’t my intention, not at all.
I opened his door and stepped inside the room, looking at him. He was out of
bed, the brat, and on the floor.
“Good morning, Harry,” I said with false cheer in my voice. He appeared
confused and shocked. “Did you have a pleasant rest?”
“Bloody fucking hell…” he murmured, eyes wide, red, and staring. I rolled my
eyes are his poor choice of words.
“Well, I have noticed that you may need some explanation as to what exactly is
occurring. Maybe you will even need some…” I continued to watch him. He stared
at his hands incredulously, as if they were dragon’s claws instead of hands.
“…time to gather yourself.” I raised an eyebrow. He was clearly losing his
mind. “I will tell you after breakfast. I will have a house elf bring your food
to your room, so you don’t hurt yourself upon seeing the rest of my manor.”
Harry’s breath caught a moment, before he shook his head and replied, “Wait…my
room?”
I sighed. “Do not force me to repeat myself, you brat. Yes, your room. I picked
it specifically to suit you. I figured your time with Muggles would suggest you
were comfortable with smaller rooms, therefore your room is the smallest.”
Harry chuckled humorlessly. “Small room. Yeah. My room was a cupboard under the
stairs. This is like a mansion compared to that…” he muttered, looking over his
arms as if trying to find something.
I was almost disturbed, either by the fact that Harry had spent a portion of
his life sleeping in a cupboard or that Harry had uttered such a personal
detail to me. I quickly dismissed it, convincing myself that it was his
disorientation getting the better of him.
“Sadie!” A pop came from behind me. “Bring Harry’s breakfast here for him to
eat.”
“Yes, Master,” the elf said before popping away.
My eyes had never left Harry, who was rolling up his sleeping pants and staring
at his legs in awe.
“Your clothes are by the sink in the lavatory,” I said hastily before exiting
the room.
===============================================================================
Harry’s_POV:
After Tom left, I was still shocked. There wasn’t a single thing about the
situation that didn’t scream alternate reality. All the scars on my entire body
were gone, with the exception of my lightning mark. My usually crazy hair was
somewhat controlled, and I had a room in Tom’s manor.
There’s no way this is happening. I must have hit my head too hard on
something. I am actually in a dark, cold dungeon, and this is just some spell
Tom is using to confuse me. And it’s working.
I was obviously mad.
A house elf popped into my room, a large tray in her hands.
“Here be your breakfast, Mr. Harry Potter,” she squeaked. She set the tray down
on the edge of the bed and popped away.
I was almost scared to eat. Is it poisoned or something? I crawled to it and
looked it over. Does it really matter if it’s poisoned? I was as starving as
Ron when he was late for breakfast. Really, I couldn’t have cared less about
poison. If Tom wants to kill me with poison, who am I to argue? With that, I
took my first bite. It was amazing, to say the least. I dug right in, not
caring what it might be, or what was in it.
After I finished, which was no time at all, I tried standing again. One foot
was steady on the lush black carpet, and I grabbed onto the bed for support
before placing the other foot down and standing completely. I was steady, no
dizziness, so I walked over to the loo. It very much matched the room, with the
silver-framed mirror over the porcelain sink, a shower with a glass door and
textured black tiles inside, a porcelain toilet, and dark green towels over the
top of the shower door. My clothes were there, of course, by the sink. I picked
them up, noticing they were cleaned, as if I had never walked through that
muddy forest to meet Tom. I decided not to change, though, and went back to the
room to sit back on the luxurious bed.
If Tom said he picked this room for me because it was the smallest, then why on
Earth did he give me silk sheets, a glorious bathroom, and beautiful (but
awfully Slytherin) décor? He couldn’t think that this was the life I used to
have, did he? Even Hogwarts isn’t this nice.
I sighed.
I suppose I’ll have to wait for an explanation.
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
I had finished breakfast and was contemplating going to talk to Potter. He
certainly needed some time to let his situation fully sink in. However, I was
not so certain that was allhe needed.
Is a therapist in order? No, no…I’ll talk to him.I let go of a large breath,
preparing myself before I stood and headed towards his room.
When I opened his door, I found him sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes
glancing about the room before they fell on me.
“How was breakfast, Harry?”
For a moment, he did not answer, his face a confused mess. “Delicious,” he said
at last, “Thank you.” He looked away from me and scanned the room once more.
The air was terribly awkward. Harry Potter, who is somewhat of my prisoner,
just thanked me. My stomach began to feel uncomfortably light, as if its
contents were rolling.
“I suppose you are waiting for me to explain the situation…and why you are
still alive.” He looked back to me and nodded calmly. If I thought he was mad
before, he seemed even more so. He was calm in my presence, and it was
unsettling. And slightly irritating.
“Hmmm,” I began, pushing back my distaste. “I never intended to kill you. Well,
not never, but not recently. I have realized that you would be a greater asset
to me alive and on my side than if you were dead.”
I glanced over him, attempting to measure his reaction. He looked better than
he had in the forest. His color was back, his hair was not a complete mess, and
his eyes had their original luminance to them without most of the redness. The
sleeping clothes I had given him were perfect, not only for his body, but his
personality. He was now the red and gold in a room of green and black, both
figuratively and literally.
“Being my captive does not mean I will kill you, Harry,” I continued when he
said nothing. I was careful to use his name, as that is a way to build trust.
“It means we will become allies.”
At the last word, his mouth dropped open. Hopefully, he is not becoming more
unstable…but maybe that is more to my advantage at this point.
I smirked. “I no longer want to see us as enemies. That is why you have this
room, and not a prison cell. I know you think you sighed up for an easy way to
get away from your problems…” I watched as he noticeably winced, “…but I’m
going to make sure that you face them all head-on, as a Gryffindor should.”
With that, I left, leaving Harry to contemplate my offer, which I would not let
him refuse.
***** Deep Trust *****
Harry’s_POV:
It was later in the day. I honestly hadn’t left the room at all, or even taken
the time to change my clothes, so I didn’t know what time it was. I felt like
my world had been turned upside down, almost as much as it had when I learned
about this war, or even when I learned I was a wizard.
Still, something is different about this. I can live with Tom not trying to
kill me (no pun intended), but being his ally? I would be on the opposite side
of the war, pitted against my friends. Would I have to hurt them? Was I mad to
even beconsideringTom’s offer? Probably. There’s no denying that. Even so…we’d
definitely win the war. I wouldn’t have to be “The Savior” anymore…
I stood from the bed and debated what to do. Without knowing the time of day,
my options were probably limited.
Is Tom awake? Is there anyone else in this manor that I needed to worry about?
I wasn’t sure.
I shrugged and walked over to the door Tom had appeared through earlier. It
opened into a long hallway with a few doors scattered here and there, and a
large arch that led somewhere else, possibly another hallway; it was hard to
tell from where I was. The walls were a dark color, and the small balls of
light that floated close to the ceiling didn’t provide much visibility for me
to see if it was dark green or black, or some other color entirely.
Instinctively, I reached for my wand, only to remember that I was in some
sleeping clothes.
I need my other pants.
I went back into the room and went over to my clothes in the bathroom, still
piled nice and neat. I patted them, discovering only cloth.
No. Where could it be? Did Tom take it?
“Accio Wand,” I cast, in hopes that my wand was not locked away somewhere.
After a moment, nothing happened. I sighed and decided to go out and find it.
I stepped out into the hallway cautiously. I didn’t think there was anything on
the floor in my way, but it was difficult to tell in the dim lighting. After
many careful steps, the next door in the hallway was to my left. I pressed my
ear to the door, listening for the sound of something or someone.
Silence.
I continued this process with the next door, and the next, until I had reached
the end of the hallway, close to the arch.
I stopped just before the arch, looking down at the stairs that led into
darkness. There were no balls of light past this hallway, though the windows
let a vague amount of moonlight into the room, casting just enough light for me
to make out a long table with many chairs on its sides. I could hardly make out
the details, but one chair at the end seemed larger than the rest. Its
silhouette was taller somehow.
I scoffed. I bet that’s Tom’s chair. It would suit him and his I’m-better-than-
everyone view on life.
As I continued to look around, I saw that the room holding the table and chairs
was huge. There was so much space in it, and nothing to fill the space, from
what I could tell. All that empty space and the pale, dim moonlight made the
room seem almost…eerie.
Without prompting, my heart began to beat faster.
Should I go down?
The question stewed in my mind—go down the stairs or go back into my room?
—though I wasn’t sure which option seemed better.
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
The day had surely been long. I was just finishing it up in my study, reading
up on mental instability, when I heard a shuffling outside the door.
It must be Potter.
I brushed it off and continued reading. Not long after, a nagging thought
entered my mind.
What if it is not him?
I closed my book slowly, irritated at my own paranoia, and quietly rose from my
seat. Just as I did, the shuffling stopped. I held my breath and stilled.
Suspicious.
When the shuffling resumed, and stopped once more, I cast a wandless and
wordless silencing charm on my feet and walked to the door, pulling the door
open cautiously. There Potter stood, gazing out into the dining/meeting room.
He seemed to be concentrating, although I could not tell if it was on the
appearance of the room or on his own thoughts. Without making a sound, I closed
the door behind me and walked up behind him, slightly to his side.
“Well,” I said suddenly, watching him jump, “you seem to be holding up better
than I thought.”
“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “Stop sneaking up on me like that.”
I chuckled darkly. “Oh, relax, Harry.”
“How can I relax when you appear out of nowhere behind me when I think I’m
alone?” He turned to face me, his gaze fixed on the doors of the hallway.
“Where did you come from, anyway?”
I looked him over. He was still in his sleeping clothes, but I made no mention
of it—I concluded that he needs more time before he was to return to normal. A
slight bit of pride rose within my chest as I noted that he had not immediately
gotten rid of the clothes once I told him where his normal ones were.
Well, I suppose theydo fit him rather nicely.
 “I was in my study,” I answered truthfully. “I heard you come down the
hallway, so I thought you might need something. Do you?”
“Yes,” he answered, rolling back his shoulders and standing up taller. “What
did you do with my wand?”
My eyebrows rose before my eyes narrowed.
Are we alone?There was no way for me to be sure. Surely, he is trying to
escape. How bold, and how stupid.Instead of risking being overheard, I ensured
no one else could understand what we said.
/Trying to get away, Potter?/ I hissed. /It is not wise to talk of such things.
They will think you are trying to escape./
Potter looked around us with wide, cautious eyes. /I was honestly trying to be
able to see better in this dark hallway. Is that a crime?/ he challenged.
“I suppose not,” I answered simply. I still did not trust his intentions.
“However, do not get any ideas. Your wand is in a safe place, I assure you.”
Harry rolled his eyes and looked out to the room. With that, I turned and
walked back into my study, intent on reading one more chapter before the night
grew too late.
===============================================================================
Harry’s_POV:
Paranoid, are we?
I rolled my eyes. Tom’s reaction was more than I expected. Although I hadn’t
expected him to say, “Oh yeah, here’s your wand back. Safe and sound. And let
me teach you some wonderful curses for escape, and might I say you look
marvelous today, Harry,” I hadn’t expected him to be so touchy about it.
Using Parseltongue? What, are people listening in? Who else would be in the
Dark Lord’s manor this late?
I took in a breath and turned to ask to Tom another question, but he was
already gone, back to wherever he had come from.
Figures…I just wanted to know what time it was.
I sighed and went back to my room. I was starting to get a bit tired, so maybe
it was pretty late in the evening.
I suppose Tom’s reaction is to be expected. My question did sound an awful lot
like I was trying to escape. If I had my wand, would I try to escape? He said I
was his captive, but also that we weren’t enemies any more. What did that mean?
I got into the bed, being too distracted by my thoughts to notice I had even
entered my room already. Except where I sat, the sheets were now neatly tucked
in around the sides, as if I had not spent nearly the entire day in it. 
Tom wants me as his ally but doesn’t trust me with my wand? Or even asking
about my wand? Don’t allies trust one another? Do I trust him?
I pondered the thought. It had felt like a long time since our deal, but it
really hadn’t been.
In so little time, I’ve trusted him so much. Probably more than is healthy. I
trusted he wouldn’t kill me, even if I wanted him to. I ate the food he gave
me, wore these clothes, slept in this bed, believed what he said…that’s a lot
of trust to give to an ex-arch-enemy.
I sighed. He hadn’t given me any reason not to trust him. I wondered if I had
given him any reason not to trust me or if he just didn’t trust anyone.
Suddenly, I wasn’t tired anymore. My brain was awake and busy with thoughts of
Tom and I no longer being enemies. I decided to shower; I had been in these
clothes all day, after all. Plus, I need something to relax me.
I got up and went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. It was bare, save
for an empty couple of shelves under the shower head. I looked around the
bathroom for some toiletries I might use—I only reallyneedsoap. When I didn’t
find any, I turned back to the shower, about to turn it off in defeat, only to
discover that the shelf now had shampoo, conditioner, soap, and a rag:
everything I normally use to shower.
Hmmm. Neat little trick.
As the room grew steamy and the mirror fogged up, I was careful to remove the
silk sleeping clothes that had begun to cling to my body. Once inside the
shower, the nearly burning water ran down my body, I could feel my muscles
release the stress they held. As I grew less tense, I also felt the wave of
repressed emotions wash over me: uncertainty, depression, anxiety, anger,
restlessness.
Thishas been so much to take in in so little time…
I longed for pure and utter happiness, even if only for a few moments. My
thoughts ran to third year, when Professor Lupin was teaching me the Patronus
Charm. Think of your happiest thought,he had said, even if it’s not real. I
always told myself that when I needed some cheering up. I searched through my
mind for a good memory. There were so many, now, and I was thankful for that. I
ran through the feelings of them all: excitement, friendship, a sense of
belonging. I found another, too, yet I didn’t remember when it happened.
Maybe I’m making it up.
I was completely relaxed, asleep maybe, with warm, strong arms around me. They
held me close, letting me hear and feel the beat of their heart. Our breathing
was even and uniform, and our bodies created a warmth I’m not sure I had ever
felt before. It was pure and utter safety, something completely foreign to my
usual life. My mind felt lighter, like any possible worry was gone from my
mind.
I grabbed the soap and proceeded to wash my body, spending time to focus on
each part as I washed it. My arms and chest, smooth and new without all the
scars; my legs and back, stronger than they once were to hold me up straighter
and with more confidence. I was washing my upper thigh when I brushed my member
ever so lightly, a ripple of pure ecstasy shooting through me like a shiver. It
was an amazing, forgotten feeling.
I gently set down the soap, steadied myself with one hand, and wrapped the
fingers of the other around my now growing arousal. I slowly pumped, savoring
every sensation that came from it. The warmth and steam of the room brought a
flush to my cheeks and my heart began to pound. I started pumping faster, my
cock now fully hardened and alert to every movement my hand made. A small gasp
escaped my mouth when I felt a wave approaching. And I was there again: safe in
the arms of someone, held close, our bodies in sync. My fist pumped harder, and
my head fell back. It crashed over me then, blurring my vision and causing my
back to arch. I rode out the feelings and continued to stroke, black on the
edges of my vision.
The feelings faded out, and I was left panting heavily, a big smile on my lips
and a sticky substance on my hand. I quickly washed off the evidence and
finished my shower.
Once I got out of the shower and dried off with a towel, I was suddenly
exhausted. I yawned and felt the weight of my body being pulled down, as if I
was heavier. A toothbrush and paste had appeared by the sink, and I brushed my
teeth before turning to put on the sleeping clothes I wore earlier. Except,
they weren’t on the floor. I looked around the bathroom, only to find they
weren’t anywhere else in there, either. I went to the door and opened it
slightly to find sleeping clothes folded nicely on the bed. I went over to them
hurriedly, the cold licking at the warmth of my body. As I was putting them on,
I noticed these were different from the last ones. These were a deep, rich gold
with a black pattern on them. The silk made the golden color more three-
dimensional, almost molten.
I rather like these, too.
I picked up my normal clothes, which sat on the bed beside where the sleeping
clothes had been, and placed them on the black chair. After that, I did not
hesitate to plop into the bed. Thoughts were on my mind, as they always were,
but these weren’t the usual ones.
What am I going to do now? My entire existence revolved around defeating
Voldemort, but now I’m Tom’s ally.
I pondered just exactly how I worded that. In my mind, Voldemort and Tom were
two different people. Voldemort was the evil villain who killed my parents and
had been trying to kill me since then. Tom, however, was the man who had taken
me away from my friends (which is good. I can’t hurt them now), given me a room
to stay in, and wants me alive so I can be his ally. It hurt that Tom didn’t
trust me when I so clearly trusted him, but I would never in a million years
trust Voldemort. He had a snake face and rose from a cauldron—it was easy to
villainize him. But Tom had a sculpted face and was human. He wanted me to be
comfortable.
Did Tom see himself that way? I suppose he could. But who did he see as the
good guy and who did he see as the bad guy?
These thoughts spun around in my head, growing more and more distant until they
grew tired and let my mind slip into sleep.
***** Possession *****
Harry’s_POV:
The sky was dark and the ground beneath me was damp between my toes. I couldn’t
tell what else was going on besides the event happening before my eyes. Snape
and Draco stood in front me. It had been Hogwarts before, but now it was just
blackness, just space. Dumbledore stood to my left a ways, mouthing words I
couldn’t understand. Then, he was beside me, his voice finally reaching my ears
in a whisper.
Harry…Harry, please…
Then Snape raised his wand, his face cast in shadows, and green light shot from
it, straight into Dumbledore. His body tipped over and fell into the darkness
that surrounded us all. Suddenly, I was falling, too: a never-ending plunge to
the unforgiving Earth that wasn’t there. From above, I could see Snape and
Draco glaring down at us, smiling wickedly. Just as their faces disappeared, I
could feel the ground growing closer, but when we hit it, we tore through it
and into a grave.
I looked around, then, but Dumbledore was gone; it was only me in this grave. A
shadowy figure came, looking down at me, and placed the Elder Wand in my folded
hands. Piles of dirt flung itself over the sides and onto me, beginning to
cover me. The wand grew scorching hot in my hands, but I couldn’t move them.
Soon enough, the dirt covered me completely, leaving me surrounded by darkness
and space again. The wand grew so heated that it began to burn through the skin
on my hands. I watched as the flesh it touched melted and crumbled away while
the rest surrounding it caught fire. Instead of orange flames, these were pure
molten silver. The flames ate away at my body, destroying it slowly.
Unexpectedly, the wand floated out of my hands and into the air just above me.
I reached out for it with a burned, shaking, skeleton-esque hand, but it was
jerked away, landing in a bone-pale, slim hand. Voldemort appeared out of the
darkness and smiled. With an evil chuckle, he lifted it to the sky and shot out
a bolt that shook the whole world.
I was in the sky, then, watching the world be engulfed in the silver flames. In
the distance, I saw Hermione and Ron in a small clearing free from the flames,
huddled together to avoid the heat. Their mouths were opened in horror. I
couldn’t hear their screams, but I knew what they said.
This is all Harry’s fault! Harry did this! How could you, Harry?!
The darkness returned, and a scream filled the room: my scream. My head ached
sharply, and my face was sweaty. I reoriented myself to the room slowly by
feeling around and realized I was on the floor by the bed, curled up. Tears
poured from my eyes and I continued to scream hoarsely. It had been a
nightmare, I knew, but the feelings were as real as ever. They all blew up
inside me, and I couldn’t stop screaming.
Through the darkness, something grabbed me. I kicked it off me then turned and
clawed at the floor, searching for something to throw. More tears fell down my
cheeks and neck, making the breeze in the room feel colder and causing the
small hairs on my neck to stand. The hands grabbed me again around my arm, and
before I could try to rip myself from them, a light began to glow behind me.
Before me, I saw the legs of the bedside table just out of the reach. I turned
my body over and looked to the one trying to grab me: Tom. A ball of light
hovered by his shoulder, lighting half of his face. His red eyes stared at me
tiredly, the one cast in light shining boldly, as if it itself were emitting
light.
I relaxed, then, closing my eyes and laying on the floor limply. With a sigh,
Tom pulled me towards him, putting his one arm around my shoulders and the
other under my knees. I could feel the warmth of his chest and the beat of his
heart as he lifted me back into the bed. My fingers curled around the folds of
his shirt, keeping me to him as he tried to let me go.
I was safe. I wasn’t sure I had ever felt it before. I didn’t know if it was
something Tom had given me, or a spell he had cast on me, but I let it happen.
Before my cheeks even had the chance to dry, I had fallen back into a dream-
less sleep.
I woke gradually, rubbing at my eyes and throwing off the heavy blankets that
threatened to drown me in sweat. I opened my eyes, my vision blurry. For a
moment, I forgot why.
Right. Bad eyes. I wear glasses.
I felt around to my left and to my right, searching for a table but finding
only bed. I scooted to my left, leaning out to reach the bedside table, but
missed and fell off the bed, knocking my head on the table instead. I rubbed my
head for a moment before placing my hand on the table and finding my glasses.
Thank Merlin.
As I put them on, my mind began to wake. I looked around the room, finding the
position oddly familiar.
Did that really happen or was it just a dream? I woke up in bed, not on the
floor. But…did Tom put me back onto it?
The thought only lasted a moment before I shook my head.
There’s no way it happened. Tom wouldn’t care if I was having a nightmare. It
was just a dream.
I slowly stood up and headed to brush my teeth, pondering it all the while.
If itwasa dream, why would I dream something like that? Tom holding me? Me
clutching to him?
I couldn’t even begin to process it.
I continued to get ready for the day, my thoughts muddled and confusing. After
I was dressed in my normal clothes, I walked to the door that led to the
hallway and opened it. I had to squint for a moment as the brightness of the
lights hit me unexpectedly. They were at least ten times brighter than they
were the day before.
Must be the time of day, I thought, blinking rapidly as my eyes adjusted.
As I made my way into the hallway, I noticed that the walls were a dark green
and black pattern that seemed to be millions of tiny lines twisting themselves
into each other.
I arrived at the arch only to find that the spacious room below was much
grander than I expected. The long table was ornate with a design in deep wood
under a layer of glass. The chairs were carved and polished, colored the same
as the table, and regal. At one end of the table was Tom, sitting in what was
practically a throne. Under the table and chairs was a rug with patches of
various designs in grey and silver and pale blue all woven together. The floors
were some sort of white marble with small streaks of glittering black stone in
it. I looked down and my bare feet were on the softest black carpet I had ever
felt. I wiggled my toes in it with a smile.
“Good morning, Harry,” Tom called from the table between bites of his
breakfast. The echo rang through the whole room even though it seemed that he
hadn’t spoken loudly.
“Morning, Tom.” I made my way down the stairs, then, still taking in the
entirety of the room. The walls were painted with a dark grey texture that
reminded me of a sponge, and the ceiling was a metallic silver that shone
incredibly. “I didn’t realize this room was so decorated.”
A grin came onto Tom’s face.
“Yes. It’s amazing what you can see when there is light in the room.”
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Tom gestured for me to sit at the
chair beside him. As I looked at it, it transformed from a wooden chair that
matched all the other ones around the table into one that was a simpler version
of Tom’s.
I sat down, marveling at the secret comfort the straight-backed chair provided,
and a house elf appeared, setting a plate in front of me and then disappearing
without a word. I ate happily, savoring the taste of whatever egg dish was in
front of me (it looked fancy but was definitely delicious). I was about halfway
done when Tom finished his plate. The elf returned, took his plate, and popped
away again.
“Harry,” Tom began, his calm face falling into a neutral expression, “I would
like to discuss something with you.”
I looked up from my plate. Maybe last night really did happen and he wants to
talk about it?
“Uh, okay.”
“If we are to be allies, I’m sure you need to hear what that means and what we
plan to accomplish.”
I sighed inwardly. So not about last night, then. “That would be…helpful.”
Tom nodded once. “Excellent. There will be a meeting later today with my Death
Eaters. I would like for you to join us.”
My eyes grew, and I could feel my mouth hang open. My fork slipped from between
my suddenly stiffened fingers, the clang from it hitting the plate breaking me
from my shock. I picked it up and carefully placed it on the side of the plate
before turning my attention back to Tom. “Um…What?!”
Tom’s jaw clenched. “Must I repeat myself?”
“No,” I replied too quickly. “No…I’m just…a meeting with your Death Eaters?
That’s…” I couldn’t find the right words; “ridiculously dangerous” and
“idiotic” didn’t seem to fit quite right.
“You will be wearing a black cloak with a hood, like those you have seen us
wear,” he explained. “Not many will know it is you. They will only know that
you are a special addition to our group. The ones who know are the ones who
accompanied me to our trade. They are my most loyal.”
The thought was unnerving. It was like I was becoming a Death Eater. I wouldn’t
have to get a Dark Mark, would I? I don’t know if I can live with that…
“Harry,” Tom’s voice said, a bit softer than it had been before. He must have
sensed my stress.
I turned to look at him.
“Do not panic,” he continued, his voice returning to the neutral, cold tone it
had before. “I assure you nothing will happen that would put you in danger.”
Even though that wasn’t what I was worrying about, I nodded and tried to calm
down. Tom wouldn’t make me do that. That would be too much to ask.Suddenly, my
appetite was gone. I picked up my plate and asked, “Where is the kitchen?”
“Oh, do not bother cleaning up. I have house elves. Sadie!”
Sadie the house elf popped in, took my plate right from my hands, and popped
away. I sighed.
“Well, what do I do until the meeting?”
Tom rolled his eyes.
“I’m not your babysitter, Harry. Just don’t go snooping around my manor.”
He rose and walked over to one of the hallways that branched off the large
room, disappearing around the corner.
I decided to go back upstairs, but not to my room quite yet. I stood by the
arch looking into the hallway I had become familiar with. There were several
doors, but I didn’t know what would be behind them. I walked over to the
closest door and turned its handle, finding that it didn’t turn all the way.
Locked.
I walked over to the next door and tried that one.
Also locked.
Then, I tried the next door, and the next one, and all the other doors.
Bloody fucking locked.
I sighed and gave up, walking over to my door, defeated. When I turned its
handle, it was locked, too.
What? This ismy room! It can’t be locked.
I put my back against the door and slid down to the floor with a huff.
If only I had my wand. A quick Alohamora could easily get me out of this mess.
Not having a wand was definitely taking its toll on me. I was practically
powerless, with the exception of the very few wandless spells I knew.
Can I cast Alohamora wandless? Hmm…
I stood, facing my door, eyes closed, and focused on my magic. I could almost
feel my magic in my blood, and sometimes it helped to imagine I really did.
“Alohamora.”
My magic jumped to the door handle, but did not unlock the door. It soon
retracted, and I sighed. I concentrated once more on feeling my magic.
“Alohamora.”
My magic, once again, jumped to the door handle. This time, I took control of
it and pushed it into the lock like a key. I focused on turning it for several
minutes without success. I was about to give up when I heard a small click.
When I turned the handle, it turned all the way. I smiled and stepped inside.
Upon looking at the room, I noticed that nothing had changed. The bed hadn’t
even been made.
I didn’t close the door when I left. It wasn’t the house elves, since the bed
isn’t made. So, who the hell closed my door and locked me out?
“You passed my lock, I see.”
I turned. Tom was now in his hooded cloak, glaring at me with his red eyes. On
his arm hung another cloak.
“Why was my door locked?” I asked, voicing my defiance.
“As I recall, this is my manor, and therefore that door is mine. I locked it
because I do not want you snooping.”
What? That doesn’t make any sense.“Snooping? I was in that room all day
yesterday. If there was any snooping to do, I would have done it already.”
Tom pulled the cloak off his arm and extended it out to me. “You were unfit to
even consider the idea of snooping yesterday. See how this cloak fits.”
I went inside my room and closed the door hard behind me. I didn’t need the
privacy; I just wanted the satisfaction of slamming the door. If he doesn’t
want me to snoop, why not take out the things in my room that he doesn’t want
me to see? Honestly…
I pulled the cloak over my head, getting lost in its vastness for a moment
before I finally found the head hole. The cloak was huge, to say the least.
It’s practically falling off me.
I reached for the door to open it only to find that the sleeve engulfed my
hand.
Who is this made for? A giant?
I pulled on the sleeve with my other sleeve-covered hand until I could see my
fingers again, then opened the door.
“I think it may be a bit big for me,” I said to Tom sarcastically.
Tom nodded seriously, either missing my sarcasm or ignoring it. “Reducio.”
The cloak immediately shrunk about ten sizes and fit me perfectly.
“Better,” Tom said. “Now.” He turned and lifted his hood over his head. “The
meeting will be starting soon.”
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
I made my way back to the large meeting room with Potter following close behind
me, stumbling down the first few stairs before he discovered how to lift the
front of the cloak so he would not step on it. I did my best to pretend it had
not happened. Just as our feet hit the marble floor, Lucius, Narcissa, and
Draco appeared. I made my way to my chair and motioned for Harry to take the
matching one beside me that I transfigured for him that morning. He sat, a
smile growing on his face as he sat back. He found it comfortable, I assumed. A
quick wandless and wordless spell assured that Harry’s eyes and nose were
covered in a dark shadow. I cast the same spell over my own face.
Lucius looked to me and bowed his head in greeting, then made his way to his
usual place. His son sat to his right and his wife to his left. Before long, my
Death Eaters began to appear, some together, but most separate. The table
lengthened, as usual, to accommodate everyone. Once everyone was seated, it was
quiet.
“My dear followers,” I began with a purr, “I have, today, a special addition to
our cause.” I motioned to Harry with my right hand. “His name is…” I paused and
looked to Harry. His face was hidden, but I could feel the panic welling up at
the very back of my mind. “Aureum Serpens. He will be working privately with me
to assure we are successful, but he needs to learn of what we must do, and how
it will be done. As I’m sure you know, this is something words cannot convey.
How do we offer Mr. Serpens this knowledge?”
Lucius immediately spoke up. “We send him off to experience it.”
“We don’t want him to be scarred, Lucius,” Severus’s usual monotone voice
replied. “Such events are…traumatizing.”
“My Lord, if I may say, I think if Mr. Serpens is strong enough to want to
join, then he would be strong enough to survive it,” another voice said from
farther down the table.
“Survive, yes, but we don’t want him to merely survive,” Severus said. “We want
him to become strong, and he very well may not afterwards.”
Through narrowed eyes, I scanned over Severus’s expression. Reserved. Calm in
appearance but with the occasional twitch of an eyebrow. He knows something and
is keeping it from us…
While I was busy considering, the table broke into noisy discussion. Through it
all, Lucius and Severus were the only voices that mattered, but the volume
rose, and they were drowned out almost entirely. I only caught pieces of the
arguments.
“He is powerful!”
“But it is a tradition!”
“How is that any different from…”
My ears pounded, and I could feel my rage rise in my chest.
Howdarethey.
/He is mine!/ I hissed.
The room silenced at my snake tongue. Everyone looked back to me and settled.
“I shall decide his fate, you incompetent fools,” I said, dangerously quiet. My
eyes met with theirs one at a time like a predator picking out its prey. “For
now, we have other matters to attend to.”
***** Descending *****
Harry’s_POV:
I really couldn’t listen to anything for the rest of the meeting. This was one
of those memories you never forget, like when you move somewhere new or get
married, but I couldn’t figure out if it was a good memory or bad. My head was
reeling with so many thoughts, I couldn’t focus (not that the meeting seemed
any type of interesting). I didn’t even know what to think anymore. The world
around me was moving, but I couldn’t manage to even try to move along with it.
“Harry,” I could hear Tom’s soft voice say, “the meeting has ended.”
The words made it to my ear, but my mind didn’t process them. They were just
sounds, almost as if they were in a foreign language. I tried moving my legs
and my arms, but nothing was responding. Paralyzed and panicked, I fell back
into my nightmare, falling into the darkness that never seemed to end.
Tom!
I tried to speak, yell, make any sort of noise that would bring me back to the
world, but I just kept falling. Everything was dark, but I could remember the
light of the meeting room, the shine of the white marble floors, the bright
bold red of Tom’s eyes as he hissed in Parseltongue. I didn’t want this
darkness, this journey that ended with me in a grave while the world caught
fire.
“Harry…” someone said. It was so far away. I could barely hear it over the rush
of the wind and the pounding of my heart.
“Harry, you…”
The words faded out and I was left alone. I hated that word. Alone. It always
seemed to describe how I felt, recently.
Hermione and Ron are my friends, but I push them away. The Weasley’s, my
adoptive family almost, mean too much to me to be worried with my troubles.
They were already going to fight for me in the war. Even if I did bother to
tell them, my troubles were trivial compared to the war. I’d never be able to
share that much about myself anyway.
I’d always be alone.
Through the helplessness I felt—the coldness in my heart and the tips of my
fingers, the emptiness in my chest, the chaos of my mind—I took that word and
forced myself to logically think something.
Things I hate in this world:
-This bloody fucking war
-Being the Boy-Who-Lived/Savior/Chosen One
-Uncle Vernon
-Being Haunted by dead people I care about
-Being alone
After seizing that much control, I pushed further and further until my mind was
back in the present. Tom was in front of me now, his eyes level with mine. I
looked into those eyes—his eyes. They were the same when he stood over Ginny’s
limp body in the Chamber of Secrets, when he rose out of that cauldron in the
cemetery, when we battled in the Ministry of Magic, in memories of a little boy
at an orphanage, and when he appeared in the Forbidden Forest not too long ago.
They were eyes I had seen a million times in my nightmares and, more recently,
my dreams. They stared back into my own, their luminance turning my entire
world red. They were Voldemort’s eyes, but also Tom’s. Those ideas conflicted
in my mind, but I knew, in the end, he was always Tom. He understood me, and I
understood him. We were linked not just by our minds, but by memories and
prophecy. Our only difference was our nature, and even some of that was the
same, just like our wands.
“Harry.”
My mind was back in the world again. I was lying down in my bed, and Tom was
sitting in a chair brought up to the side. I sat up slowly, my hand rising to
meet my aching head. Snape was standing on the other side of the bed, potion in
hands. He removed the hand on my head (since the other was steadying me), and
placed a small bottle in it. Without caring to ask what it was, I drank it all
without even tasting it.
I looked to Snape. “That was a pain reliever, right?”
Snape let one eyebrow rise. “No. That was a small dose of Veritaserum.”
What! My mouth hung open a moment. “Veritaserum? What do I need Veritaserum
for?”
“Well, Mr. Potter,” he began, using his usual disdain when saying my name, “we
are about to have a little heartfelt talk, here.” He sounded almost sarcastic
in his monotone. “I do wish for you to join us, My Lord.”
Tom nodded.
“We are concerned for your condition, Mr. Potter,” Snape continued. “Especially
after your little episode after the meeting. My Lord and I decided it would be
best to discuss it with you, and I am certain you would not do so willingly.”
His dark, seemingly unconcerned eyes moved to look over to Tom. “And neither
would My Lord, which is why I had a house elf put some Veritaserum into his
drink.”
Tom looked to the drink in his hands, then to Snape, eyes narrowed and precise,
as if to kill. “Traitor,” he spat.
Snape sighed. “It is for your own good, My Lord.”
I backed up so I could sit upright using my pillows. My stomach felt so light,
I could have easily lost my breakfast trying to hold myself up.
Snape summoned a chair and sat next to the bed. “Now, what happened after the
meeting, Harry?”
I could feel the Veritaserum working inside me. My mind had the answer ready
and through my lips before I could even consider resisting. “I was reliving
this nightmare I had where I was falling. Everything was dark. But I never hit
the ground. I just kept falling.”
“Describe how you were falling,” Snape said immediately.
“Well, I was almost like a wet feather, falling in that kind of heavy floating
kind of way. It was slow and prolonged.”
He nodded. “So you were…descending?”
“I suppose that is a better word for it. Yeah.”
Snape’s brows drew up and his lips drew together slightly, as if her were
taking mental notes. “What caused this?”
“When-” I held my breath and tried to withhold some of my answer. I struggled
for a moment, concentrating on the idea that part of the truth was still the
truth, but the whole answer came out anyway. “When Tom said I was his, I fell
into my own thoughts and kind of lost myself. I had a nightmare last night of
Dumbledore dying where, after he started falling, I started…descending,” I
corrected. “That’s where I was stuck.”
Snape seemed to ponder a moment, connecting pieces together. In that moment, it
occurred to me that he had no idea what Tom had hissed during the meeting until
now.
“My Lord,” he said, and Tom looked to him, still silent and murderous. “It
seems both of us want to know: what did you mean when you said Harry was…” he
paused, “yours?”
Tom’s lips were forced together in a thin line. “Severus…” the serum seemed to
force out. His mouth struggled for a moment before he switched languages. /
I was taking ownership of my property. You are my captive after all. It is only
like me to…/ he continued to struggle for a few more seconds before the rest
seemed to spew out at the speed of light. /…become attached to those who trust
me./
The darkness of the room closed in around me.
I can’t do this. Not again.
But Dumbledore trusted me.
“I’m not scared, Harry,” he had said, “I have you here.”
And I was descending again.
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
That traitorous fool…
Anger boiled in my veins, but I remained calm, plotting his punishment. It was
true, yes, that I had gotten around Severus hearing what I had to say, but I
had no doubt that Harry had heard every word, and that almost seemed to
unsettle me more.
Severus did nothing but stare at me. Obviously, he knew Harry heard, and that
should be enough.
Why do I not kill him on the spot? I pondered to myself.
He is unfortunately useful to me, another, logical part said. There is no match
for his mastery of potions. Killing him would be an awful waste.
A dungeon, then? Torture him in a dungeon.
There are no potion labs in a dungeon, and if there were, he would certainly
have something ready to make his way out of one.
Just the torture, then.
Yes, I settled at last, the Cruciatus Curse will do wonders, I hope.
Through the business of my own mind, a terrible emptiness harbored at the back
of it.
I turned to Harry, eyes glazed over and slowly drifting closed. “Harry.” He was
gone again. I cursed myself. “Severus, he’s…”
I needed not finish my sentence. Severus had already stood with a sigh. He
explained earlier that there was nothing to do but wait for him to come back.
He supposed it was a stress disorder resulting from traumatic experiences (all
my doing, of course). It was enraging that I, a powerful wizard skilled in
Legilimency, could be the reason Harry was mentally traumatized but could not
help to fix it. For the supposed “Chosen One,” Harry was awfully delicate.
And I was prophesized to match this boy? It did not take much to dissolve him
into nothing…
Thoughts of defeating him ran across my mind, but I pushed them aside. I would
have him as an ally. He was possibly the only other wizard of any merit.
“Severus,” I said, letting my curiosities take my mind in another direction.
“Why are you so against Harry seeing the terrible ways of muggles? I understand
he is…less than stable, but it is critical that he join our cause.”
His eyes moved from Harry’s now closed ones to me. “If there were only two
wizards in the world who knew the terrible nature of muggles first hand, they
would be you, My Lord, and Harry Potter.”
Harry knows? First hand? My eyes narrowed. Is this some sort of trick? “And
how, may I ask, does Harry fit into that placement?”
Severus sat back down in the chair, his eyes downcast. “Harry, as you may know,
lived with his muggle aunt and uncle after you killed his parents.” His gaze
met mine for a but a moment before his eyes fell back down. “His aunt was
incredibly jealous of his mother’s magical abilities, and when she was guardian
of Harry, she often neglected him, and her husband often beat him. They
detested anything having to do with magic and never let Harry know he was a
wizard. Even upon receiving his letter to Hogwarts, they tried to keep it from
him. He…found out, eventually. Attending Hogwarts only worsened his situation.”
My eyebrows rose. So he knows, then.
“I see…” I began. “Then, it will not be necessary.”
Severus nodded and stood once more. “If I may, My Lord, I wish to borrow your
study.”
“Of course, Severus. As long as your purpose has been made clear that you are…”
I clamped my lips together, attempting to prevent the words from escaping. I
was not asked a question, I should not have to tell the truth. But the thought
was no use.
“…going to help Harry.”
Severus smirked. “Of course, My Lord.”
His smirk was infuriating. My face grew hot with anger and my hands itched to
grab his throat. But I was no savage.
He had made his way to the door and opened it when I cast a wandless and
wordless Crucio. He fell to his knees immediately just before the door.
“And Severus,” I said, watching his body begin to quake and collapse onto the
floor. “It would be wise if you would not use Veritaserum, or any other potions
for that matter, on me without consent.”
I released the curse and Severus’s body stopped convulsing. With much tired,
clumsy haste, he stood. “Yes,” he said between gasps for air, “My Lord.” He
left the room, then, shutting the door behind him.
A smile drifted to my face before my attention turned to the rustling of Harry
in his bed.
“Why the bloody hell did you curse Snape? I thought Iwas the one you’d be
cursing.”
I let the humor fade from my face. “He used Veritaserum on me. I detest that.”
I looked him over. His coloring was still pale, but he was responsive and
moving. That was an improvement. “Explain why you think I would use such a
curse on you.” I assumed the serum was still in his veins. I hoped that would
prove advantageous.
His answer took a moment, not as if he was struggling not to say it, but as if
he were struggling to find an answer at all. “Well, I’m the whole reason this
happened in the first place. And…I missed the rest of the conversation.”
“Yes, we were aware. But it was-” none of your concern—the serum stopped me
from finishing the sentence aloud. It was, truly, every bit of Harry’s concern.
He would not have to stand any more horrid muggles. I would ensure it. “We
decided to skip a previously traditional explanation. As it turns out, you know
as much about our cause as I do. You simply do not know that you do.”
===============================================================================
Severus_Snape’s_POV:
It was well worth it. I would have gone through a hundred Cruciatus Curses to
help Lily. Harry was terribly scarred still, even if I had removed his outer
scars. I wanted him to start over, to move on from past pains. As it seemed,
however, he and Voldemort had become rather connected through their past.
I can easily see this getting worse before it gets better, if it ever even gets
better.
I suppose I would have to ensure it did.
I walked down the hallway to the last door. I knew it would be locked, so I
said a quiet Alohamorabefore opening the door. I went over to a chair and sat
down.
“Bring me all books on ancient rebinding spells and potions.”
After a few moments, a cart wheeled its way over to me, two worn, dusty books
on top of it. The thinner one was titled Potionibus ut ligatis (Potions to
Bind). I opened it and flipped until I reached the table of contents.
Of course.I sighed. It’s all in Latin.
“Reddo.”
The notes appeared on the side of the book in English. Anything from blood
curses to magical bonding, but none of what I was looking for. I closed the
book and tossed it in front of me. The book stopped before it hit the ground
and floated back up to its place on one of the massive, grey bookcases. I
opened the other one, titled Etiam obligare (To Bind Again) and performed the
same spell on it. The table of contents revealed one option that I could use,
if altered slightly. I flipped through the pages reading various names before
arriving at my destination. “Tota anima: This potion brings a ripped soul back
together, though temporarily. Ingredients needed are…” I summoned parchment and
a quill, copied down the ingredients and brewing instructions precisely, making
my own notes alongside, and tossed the book in front of me. As it put itself
away, I folded the parchment and placed it in my breast pocket. I had to go
back to my lab and make this potion immediately.
I apparated and landed in my lab. After quickly checking and gathering all the
necessary ingredients, I summoned my cauldron and began to brew. It definitely
had some odd ingredients, which I spent only a moment to question (one, I was
certain, did not have magical properties on its own; did it react with
something else, I wonder), but I did not have time to dither. It already took
long enough to make, and the sooner I got this to the Dark Lord, the sooner I
could rest easy.
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
My mind was plagued. I could not banish the thoughts that were swarming it. Not
only was I thinking of the future battles that would go on that I had discussed
earlier with my Death Eaters, but also Harry. He was so emotional compared to
myself. It was odd for him to be so distant, as he was today. It left a cold
place in my mind where heat is usually plentiful.
I got into my bed and looked up to the black ceiling above me.
Harry’s emotions are irritating, at times, but I am finding they are also
helpful, in a way. There are not many feelings inside me. I am, quite
literally, a body brought back to life. I am alive, but I could not live. I, of
course, remember when I had those feelings. I hurt so badly, it was unbearable.
This new me wouldnever feel that way. Voldemort cannot feel or have weakness.
Voldemort is all strength and power. But…Harry has brought back things I had
once forgotten. Harry was so much like Tom.
I cringed mentally at my idiotic given name.
It is true. They are vulnerable, weak, and let their feelings control them. In
some respects, however, Harry was so different from Tom. Harry knows what love
feels like, supposedly. He has felt happiness. There are people he is loyal to
and people who are loyal to him. He is able to trust fully. I once thought he
was weak and powerless for that, but after that battle we had in the Ministry
for Magic…I saw that he used these things to make him stronger, more
persistent, determined. He was, dare I say, a real threat to me. Now…
I growled under my breath. Enough of this irrational rant. Accio Draught of
Peace.
A potion bottle flew into my outstretched hand. I could see it shimmer faintly
in the darkness of my room. After opening it, I drank its contents and my
clouded mind cleared. I was relieved.
Sleep will come easy, now.
I closed my eyes. There was no difference between the darkness of the room and
the darkness of my eyelids. I found this rather calming. I may have even gone
to sleep, but the back of my mind tingled. I sighed.
Of course, Potter would be having another nightmare just when I was about to
sleep.
I debated going to his room, like I had yesterday. There was nothing stopping
me except the oddity of what had occurred. I had gone in to wake him, give him
some of the potion I had just taken, and tell him to go back to sleep. He
thrashed around for a moment, then after I spoke his name, pulled me to him. It
was completely unexpected, but then again, that was Harry Potter. I then moved
him back onto the bed and let him sleep.
I suppose, if it lets me sleep…
I got out of bed once more and went to my door.
I will summon the drought to his room if he needs it.
I walked down the hallway, into the dark meeting room. The shadows that fell
across the walls made the room fit the description of a gothic mansion
perfectly; fit for a Dark Lord. I turned and went up the stairs and over to
Harry’s room at the end of the hall.
Alohamora.
The door opened, and I could see the vague outline of Harry in his bed, small
whimpers escaping his throat. I walked over and sat on the edge of his bed,
wondering what could be causing all of his fear. If it was known, it was likely
able to be fixed.
I can easily find out…
I let my mind reach out to Harry’s and was sucked into his dream.
I stood by a lake and the sky was dark; trees on all sides of the lake. On the
ground before me was a man. He was familiar, though I could not make out why.
He looked grimy. He had the appearance Bellatrix often wore, almost like they
were too crazy to groom themselves. His eyes were closed and over him was a
dementor, sucking the soul from his body. I fell to my knees and tried to yell
out to him, but my voice was gone. Suddenly, a small blue orb of light—his
soul—arose from his mouth. The dementor reached its black, bone-hand out to it,
but an eruption of light energy burst from the other side of the lake. The
dementor was pushed away. I expected the light to go back into the man’s mouth,
but instead, it floated there. I reached a hand out to the light, trying to
push it back in, but it passed through my hand. Then, Bellatrix appeared, a
familiar wicked smile on her face and wand pointed towards the man. ‘Avada
Kedavra,’ she whispered, and a green bolt shot from her wand. I jumped in front
of the bolt, but it went through me as well. The man was hit and the light
above his mouth disappeared.
I came back just as Harry screamed.
That was…Sirius Black?
Harry thrashed about in his bed, then. I placed my arms on his shoulder, trying
to restrain him.
“Harry. Wake up.”
Harry stopped thrashing, but was obviously still asleep. He tried to turn over,
but my arms stopped him.
“Harry!”
Harry’s eyes opened wide. He was panting heavily, and I could feel a warm
wetness on my hands—tears. He swallowed hard, then continued panting.
“Harry,” I attempted to soothe. “Calm down.”
I removed my hands from his shoulders, and Harry sat up and wiped his face.
“Tom?”
Why does he call me that? I hate my given name.
“Yes,” I said, making no attempt to correct him on my name.
He sat there, silent for a few moments before finally whispering, ‘I hate
nightmares.’
I nodded, though I was sure he could not see. “I can see why. That was
a…terribly scarring time.” In that moment, I felt rather awkward. I had felt
everything Harry had felt for Sirius Black, but now, I had returned to my…grand
lack of emotion.
I could hear Harry intake a sharp breath. “You saw?”
“Yes, I did. That was Sirius Black, correct?”
Harry let out some air. A sigh? A huff? It was difficult to tell.
“Yes. He was my godfather. He was all the family I had left.”
“What of your muggle family?” I asked, only remembering a moment later what
Severus had earlier spoke of.
Harry scoffed. “We’re related, but they aren’t family.”
So Severus was correct. I nodded absently, trying to recall a memory of a
memory. Being without family was something I understood, as was being treated
terribly by muggles. However, Harry felt everything more than I did. Was the
hatred I felt for them even a sizable portion for what Harry felt, then?
Harry lifted his knees to his chest and placed his chin on them.
He is so vulnerable. It seems hardly likely that he will be helpful now. And
yet…
“Tom?”
I snapped from my thoughts. “Yes, Harry?”
He was silent a while. The back of my mind stirred a bit, and I implored
further. An odd feeling came over me, then. I couldn’t identify it, exactly, at
first, but it was an uncomfortable heat. Is he…embarrassed? I pushed the
feeling back into the back of my mind, finding it revolting.
“Did you…this may sound daft, and you can just curse me if you think so,
but…did you come into my room yesterday?”
I paused. “Yes,” I answered, voice carefully measured. “I came to give you a
calming draught. I could…sense you were not sleeping well.”
“So, I wasn’t dreaming?” His voice was higher, more confused.
“Dreaming?” I inquired. Before, I would have figured, if anything, he’d
consider any thoughts of me in his sleep a nightmare.
The tingle at the back of my mind grew warm again. “Nevermind. Can I have the
calming draught?”
Accio Draught of Peace. When the bottle landed in my hand, I gave it to Harry,
who drank it down easily.
“Now, sleep.”
Harry laid back down, pulling the blankets back over himself. I stood and went
over to the door, intending to leave then.
“Goodnight, Tom,” Harry called once I reached the door.
I paused once more. Harry knew how to confuse me well.
‘Pleasant dreams,’ I whispered.
Once I got back into my own bed, I understood what Harry meant when he said he
was descending. It was a strange feeling in the stomach that makes your throat
burn and your eyes blink and extra time; a feeling that draws you closer to
something but never comes as quickly as you expect.
***** Blinding Light and Shadowed Darkness *****
Harry’s_POV:
I woke up the next morning unprepared to be awake. That calming draught had
worked wonders, but I had the oddest dream I’ve ever had. I only remember
something about riding a unicorn named Doug and yelling “Not the chicken!”
I just wish, for once, that I could just sleep and not have nightmares or
dreams.
I sighed.
Things I hate in the world:
-This bloody fucking war
-Being the Boy-Who-Lived/Savior/Chosen One
-Uncle Vernon
-Being haunted by dead people I care about
-Being alone
-Having dreams/nightmares
I stayed in bed. Getting up was the last thing I wanted to do. It was one of
those mornings where nothing matters. Not getting up. Not eating. Nothing. The
mere thought of having to move made me want to groan.
Instead of groaning, I yawned.
Maybe I should at least brush my teeth. Get rid of my morning breath.
I held out my hand and (somewhat) concentrated.
“Accio toothbrush!”
Nothing happened. This time, I really groaned.
Stupid wandless magic.
Still, I didn’t move. The bed was too comfy, and my motivation was too low.
If anyone misses me, they’ll come find me. It’s not like it’ll be hard. I
haven’t been anywhere else in this house.
I wanted to roll over and shove my face into the frustratingly comfy, silk
pillow, but my arms didn’t want to move, and I wasn’t going to make them. I had
no idea what time it was, but it felt like it was late morning on a Sunday, as
if tomorrow I would wake at an early hour and be forced to go to classes and
whatnot—what’s the point of getting up and being productive today if tomorrow
was Monday, or Monday-like?
I yawned again. My whole being felt tired, but I didn’t dare go back to sleep.
I didn’t want to dream again, but the more I thought about staying awake, the
more I felt the droopiness of my eyes, the inviting warmth of the bed…
I really need some sleep…a light rest, a deep slumber, a power nap…I just need
sleep…
I woke up again after another odd dream. I shook my head and pushed away any
thoughts that came to mind.
I definitelydon’twant to remember that.
I yawned again.
How long was I asleep? Why am I still yawning?
I still didn’t want to move, so I didn’t. I just laid there, staring at the
ceiling. While nothing seemed quite as invigorating as the unmoving ceiling
(note: sarcasm), I began to think of ways to motivate myself to get up.
What if there is another Death Eater meeting today? I should go to that. Even
if I’m not really a Death Eater…Maybe I could ask someone to explain what I
supposedly know about “the cause” that everyone talks about. If they’ll
answer…I could work on my wandless magic. Yeah, that’s been workingso well
(sarcasm again). What if Tom is worrying?
My thoughts stopped dead in their tracks. I almost laughed.
The day Tom worries about me—and it not having to do with me escaping or
snooping because he doesn’t trust me—is the day Draco and Ron will become best
friends. Of course, that will never happen. Never. Not in a hundred years and
in another dimension.
I pressed my lips together in a thin line. I felt my heart sinking in my chest.
Was I really thinking about Draco and Ron’s enmity…or Tom’s lack of trust in
me? I couldn’t tell which was more unlikely, and that made me feel all the
worse.
I wanted Tom to trust me. He told me that he was possessive with people who
trust him, like I do, but I couldn’t think of anyone who trusted him like I do.
Sure, his Death Eaters are loyal and follow him, but they’re also scared of
him. They’d betray him in a heartbeat if they thought he were on the losing
side. All except maybe Bellatrix.
I sighed.
WhydoI trust him like that? I’m no Bellatrix. Just knowing that he can kill me
at any moment should be a reason enough to not trust him, but somehow…I know he
won’t. I mean, he said he wouldn’t. Of course, no one else in the world would
believe that. So why do I believe him? We have a mental connection; is it that?
Usually my scar hurts around him, but it hasn’t hurt at all, lately. If it had,
would I know something was up? It hurt before when he had intentions to kill
me. Did that mean something was different now? He said he didn’t want to hurt
me, that he wants to be allies. But to be allies, there needs to be some trust,
at least. I trust him. I do. So, Tom needs to trust me for this to work.
I groaned.
I need to talk to him. Damn.
With that, I rose from my bed and got ready for the day.
I transfigured my clothes, which were a grey shirt and jeans, into a deep green
shirt and darker jeans, and put them on. I tried to fix my unruly hair in the
mirror, but as always, it was pointless. I looked at myself. My green eyes were
a dark peridot. I expected my skin to be pale from all the time I’ve spent
sitting/lying in bed the past few days, but it actually had some color to it.
My shirt fit me perfectly, and my jeans made my lean legs a bit slimmer.
Maybe too slim? Whatever.
I didn’t care to wear shoes around the manor that I would probably never leave.
I supposed I was ready.
I opened the door to the hallway and walked out. The hallway was lit brightly,
but not bright as when I walked out yesterday. Right now, it was more of a soft
yellow, giving the hallway a look of mid-morning.
Is it really only mid-morning? No wonder I’ve felt so tired and no one’s
bothered to find me. I really need a clock in my room.
I walked down the hallway and down the stairs to the large room. Tom was there,
in his chair as normal, eating breakfast.
I really just woke up bloody early and stayed in bed until a decent time.
Mentally shaking my head, I stood next to my chair, but decided not to sit.
Tom glanced at me curiously. “Why don’t you sit, Harry?”
“Because I’m not hungry, and once I sit down, the elves will have a plate of
breakfast in front of me before I can refuse it.”
With a nod, Tom sat back and placed his silverware down his empty plate. An elf
came and picked it up.
“Would Mr. Harry Potter want breakfast?” the elf, who I recognized as Sadie,
squeaked.
“No thank you. I’m not hungry.”
The elf popped away, so I figured it was safe to sit down in my chair. When I
did, I faced Tom, who was looking at me expectantly.
 “Well?” he asked.
“Well,” I began. “I was just thinking…about this thing…”
Tom rolled his eyes. “What thing?”
“Us being allies,” I answered. “I feel like there’s not enough…” I searched for
a word. I figured it would be best if I avoided the word trust. “…cooperation.”
Was that a good synonym? Probably not.
Tom raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? And what, exactly, have we not cooperated
on?”
My confidence was slipping. “Well…I just feel like we can’t be good allies
until both sides are…equal.”
“Equal in what?”
I took a second to breath and think. Why is talking so hard? “Allies need
certain things to be mutual, so they don’t break the truce. Things like…like
guidelines…and…and trust and-”
“Ah, so this is about trust,” Tom said, sitting back in his chair and looking
far too casual for this conversation that was giving me anxiety. “You don’t
trust me.”
Looking at his calm face only made my pounding heart beat harder. “Quite the
opposite. You don’t trust me.”
For a moment, Tom brought his hands together before him and looked at the
table. His pause seemed natural, like he was pondering, unlike my earlier one,
which felt frantic and awkward.
“What planted that thought in your head?” he asked at last.
I huffed. Words poured out of me faster than I anticipated. “Lots of things.
You lock the doors to rooms, even the one I sleep in. You took away my wand and
won’t tell me where it is. So far, I haven’t a clue what you are planning to
do. And I know you would probably kill me before I am allowed to leave your
manor.”
Tom leaned forward, elbows on the table with hands folded in the air. “I trust
you as much as you trust me.”
For a moment, I sat in stunned silence. Then, I scoffed. “No, you don’t. I
trust you so much more than you trust me. Probably more than is possible from
anyone else. I trust most things you say to be true. I took your trade, sleep
in your manor, wore your clothes, ate your food. I went to a bloody Death
Eater’s meeting, for Merlin’s sake. How much more trust could you ask from your
ex-arch enemy?”
Tom just looked at me, face expressionless. I wondered if maybe he was
considering what I said, or maybe trying not to be annoyed with my complaint.
Either seemed possible. A few moments of silence passed before Tom looked
around, brows drawing together.
“We can discuss this later,” he said. “I have some business to attend to.”
Wait, what? “Business? What kind of business?”
Tom waved me off with his hand as he stood, making his way down a hallway and
disappearing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumbled to myself.
I shook my head and made my way back to my room. The door was locked, of
course, which only irritated me more.
This isexactly what I was talking about. What the hell am I supposed to do
without a wand and all these locked doors?
I used the slowest-acting Alohamora that took several tries to achieve success
because of my lack of concentration. I went straight to my bed, put my face
into the pillow, and wished I had never gotten out of bed.
===============================================================================
Severus_Snape’s_POV:
The potion was finally finished and bottled. I was extraordinarily thankful
that my changes had cut down on the brewing time. I placed the bottle in my
pocket and straightened my robes as much as I could. It may have been a
pointless gesture, but when meeting a Dark Lord, one does try to appear their
best.
I had owled him about an hour or two ago that I had a follow-up potion ready. I
had told him that the potion I had given him to regain his young adult body
needed an occasional prolonging potion. I had expected some questioning, since
I had failed to mention such a thing originally, but he offered none. That was
extraordinarily unusual. I entertained thoughts for a moment that he already
knew it was a trick, but quickly suppressed them as I apparated.
I met him in his manor at the designated time in the private meeting room
beside his own quarters. When I arrived, he was pacing back and forth: an
extremely unusual sight.
“My Lord,” I bowed. “Is something troubling you?”
Voldemort stopped pacing instantly and met my concerned gaze.
“Not at all,” he answered, calm mask falling into place. “I assume you have the
potion.”
“Yes, My Lord. It’s right here.” I pulled the bottle from my pocket and
presented it to him.
In this moment, I expected inquiry. The potion looked nothing like the previous
one I had given him. The bottle was different, even, as the last potion would
react with glass. A fool could have seen it, and maybe even have questioned it.
I was prepared to answer such questioning, in the hopes that I could convince
Voldemort to fall for the trick. I had guarded my mind in case he implored it
for answers. I took an anti-truth serum shot before arriving, in the event that
he no longer trusted me to give him potions after yesterday. All of this
caution and planning, and he drank the potion without hesitation.
Unusual, indeed.
Then again, when Harry Potter was involved, everything was unusual. He was the
reason for my own oddities, the first of which was my side on the war. If Harry
Potter was The Light and Voldemort The Dark, then I was the grey area in the
middle. Yes, I was in both the Order and a Death Eater. I found both sides to
be wrong in some subjects and right in others, but before the death of Lily
Evans, I was prepared to deal with the misgivings of Voldemort’s regime. It
proved the worst mistake of my life.
Every time I saw Harry, I saw James. A part of me would always hate James for
his unforgivable treatment of me during our school years. But in Harry’s eyes
was his mother whom I still loved with my whole being. Knowing he was a mixture
of both created a mixture in me: light and dark, care and hatred. When around
him, I made sure to exude my desire to be elsewhere, yet I ensured nothing
would harm him.
I felt it was a mistake of Albus to burden Harry with the war almost as soon as
he arrived Hogwarts. With Voldemort, I agreed with his many political views,
but not with his actions. He needed more wizards to side with him, and fear was
not the way to convince them. In the middle of this war was Harry, and it was
tearing him apart. With this potion, I will help Harry and, hopefully,
Voldemort, as well.
The glass bottle fell from Voldemort’s hand and shattered on the floor.
“Severus…what…” He grabbed at his throat. “…is going on?”
I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I knew after deceiving him like this, he
would never let me live, but this was for the better. “Please, My Lord. Forgive
me.”
Voldemort fell to his knees. He let out several hisses of pain, which anyone
could assume were curses. I scowled as he writhed in pain, looking away. It was
painful to watch, seeing one of the most powerful wizards in the world so
vulnerable. He continued to yell out. Sooner or later, Harry would hear him.
Harry…I must keep one horcrux.
I quickly left the room to find him, almost running up the stairs and down the
hallway. I pulled out my wand and cast Alohamora,opening the door to find Harry
on the floor, clutching his head.
For this to work, Harry must keep that piece of Voldemort’s soul.
I pulled out the other, smaller potion bottle from my robes, and knelt beside
him. I grabbed his chin, but he tried to jerk it back, jaw clenched.
“Harry, you must drink this. It will stop the pain.”
Still, Harry jerked away, but grabbed the potion bottle and drank its contents
fully.
Almost instantly, he stopped clutching his head and relaxed on the floor,
sighing in relief.
“Thank you, Professor. What in the world was that, anyway?”
“Before we get to that, how did the pain feel?”
Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion, but he answered. “It was like a part of my
brain was being ripped away.”
I nodded. “Do you feel like the piece left or is it still there? Are you
whole?”
His expression grew further confused and concerned, but he replied, “I’m
whole.”
I sighed in relief. I made it in time.
“Mr. Potter,” I said, standing, “I’m afraid I have dumped you into an
incredibly delicate situation. A situation which might affect every aspect of
your life as you know it.” I raised one eyebrow as I continued. “Of course, you
have never been particularly skilled in handling delicate situations, but I am
sure you will be able to find an…appropriate way to fix it.”
Harry’s hand went to his forehead. “What are you talking about?”
I took in a breath. This was a lengthy explanation.
“Harry, I have used a potion on The Dark Lord which caused his soul to become
whole again, including the parts you have destroyed. The potion I gave to you
canceled out the effects on you, so you are the only remaining piece now that
is not inhabiting his body. I need you to aid him in becoming accustomed to it
and help him achieve his political goals using…other methods.”
Harry stared at me, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
I narrowed my eyes and sharpened my tone. “I assure you that I am not lying.
You must do this, as I am no longer able. I will never be able to come here
again.”
Harry shook his head. “What? Why? How am I supposed to do this?”
I looked to the door, then back to Harry. “I must leave. He will be looking for
revenge on my betrayal. You are grown, Harry. You know what is best for your
followers. I find you will be successful in ending this war and bringing
Voldemort’s views to non-violent action. I would wish you luck…” I turned, “but
it has always been on your side.”
With that, I pulled his wand from my robes and dropped it before him before
grabbing my own and disapperating.
===============================================================================
Harry’s_POV:
What?!
Snape was gone before I could say another word. He had just fixed my life’s
purpose with one potion, and told me, basically, that my new purpose was to
make it all better. I didn’t know how to react, but I knew I had to find Tom.
I scrambled to my feet and ran out into the hallway and down the stairs. For a
moment, I stared at all the different hallways that branched off the large room
and groaned.
Why didn’t Snape tell me where he was?
I picked the hallway I was fairly sure Tom had gone down earlier and stood in
the middle, listening.
Silence.
There were no doors open, or anything that suggested this hallway was
inhabited, so I just called out to him.
“Tom! Tom, where are you? Are you okay? Tom!”
I listened, then, but still heard nothing. Instead, I tried opening the doors.
The first two were locked, and so were the next two. There were only two more
doors, and I was getting nervous. I tried the door just before the end of the
hallway. Amazingly, it was unlocked.
I went inside and saw regular-sized tables and chairs, rather plain. Beside the
table, on the floor, was Tom. Before I knew what I was doing, I ran over and
kneeled beside him.
“Tom?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t move. He barely even breathed. I didn’t know what
to do. I hadn’t brought my wand with me, and even if I had, I didn’t know any
useful healing spells. My heart beat erratically as thoughts sped through my
mind in a panic.
What do I do? What do I do?
I looked down at Tom. He seemed normal, like he was sleeping peacefully. I had
to get him somewhere comfortable, off the ground.
After a deep breath, I concentrated.
“Accio wand!”
I waited in silence for a moment, but sure enough, my wand appeared around the
open door a few long seconds later.
Before I levitate him, I have to find somewhere to put him.
I went back out into the hall. The next room was at the end of the hallway.
If this hallway is anything like mine, that room is a bedroom.
I pointed my wand at the door. “Alohamora.”
It easily opened, and I gazed upon the largest bedroom I had ever seen. The bed
looked like it could have fit ten people in it, easily, and had black sheets
with matching pillows. The walls were black, or more a really dark grey. There
were two big sitting chairs on either side of the room that each could have fit
both Uncle Vernon and Dudley in them. A large ebony door led to what I guessed
was the bathroom. A charcoal rug lay in front of the dark trunk at the foot of
the bed. A long black desk on one side had a few books on top of it. The only
thing that wasn’t black in the room was the grand, decorative chandelier that
hung from the ceiling. It was a bright, glimmering silver, and the lack of
light from the rest of the room cast gloomy shadows over it. This room was fit
for a Dark Lord.
Shaking my head out of whatever trance the sight of the room had pulled me
into, I went back and levitated Tom onto the bed.  I moved one chair over to
the side of the bed, sat down, and waited. I assumed he was just asleep and
that it would be a while until he woke, but it didn’t feel right leaving him.
As Snape said, I had to make sure he was making it through his change alright.
I was responsible for him.
Those words sound weird without the phrase “being dead” at the end of it.
But there I was, making sure he was okay.
A quick idea came into my head. “Sadie!”
The familiar little house elf popped in and said, “Does Mr. Harry Potter be
needing something?”
“Yes. Can you check and make sure Tom is okay?”
She nodded and popped away. She came back not seconds later with an older-
looking elf. He scanned over Tom a moment, then hopped on the bed, blue light
shining from his palms, adding a navy shadow to the black room. After some
time, he nodded.
“Master be okay,” he said in a husky, scratchy voice, before popping away,
Sadie following just after.
I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back in the huge chair.
He’s okay.
I took to looking him over again. With his eyes closed, he looked almost like
any normal guy, asleep in his bed. His dark hair was not only manageable
(unlike mine), but in perfect order. His face was young, and if someone had no
idea who it was, they would certainly expect him to open his eyes to find an
intelligent, kind sparkle to them. He was rather (if I may say) good looking. I
could see how he had a circle of influence around him. Even asleep, there was
something about him that was so charismatic, though I couldn’t quite place it.
I repositioned myself in the chair until I was comfortable, and before long, I
fell asleep, whispering my unanswered questions to him.
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
I have always been used to darkness. Darkness was sleep and comfort, cover from
the light. Darkness was my room and my robes and the night sky I covered with
my swirling green marks. Darkness was the lack of life in the eyes of someone
who betrayed me, the shadowed secrets I kept to myself, and the hollow freedom
I felt in my chest since making my last horcrux.
But this…this was awful, exposing brightness.
Light was everywhere, surrounding me, blinding me, engulfing anything I never
intended it to. Thrown into the light of day, the sun’s rays were singeing my
skin and blistering my eyes. It was worse than any curse I have endured. I
clawed for something to help me escape this, but I was not sure my numb body
was responding.
Then, I could see the outer edge. The line where the circle of intense rays
ended and familiar shadow crept in. Its dark recesses whispered to me at a
distance.
‘Tom…Tom…’
I needed it.
With every fiber of my being, I fought the light, but I was intertwined with
it. Its restraints would not release me; I was immobile, but I would not, could
not, let myself fall victim to it. It was my mortal enemy. My exact opposite.
The circle of light around me was getting smaller, yet more concentrated. Soon,
I was trapped inside a spotlight that felt like a laser. The intensity ate away
at my insides so that I slowly withered to nothing. I needed the shadows now.
In the shadows, I could grow; my wounds would heal.
The spotlight continued to shrink to the size of a needle, piercing my chest
just above my heart. This needed stabbed at me continually and without mercy.
The pain was excruciating, like pure fire welding my chest.
And then it was gone. Familiar, comforting darkness closed around me.
‘Tom…’ it whispered once more. ‘Why don’t you trust me?’
***** Chances *****
Severus_Snape’s_POV:
At last, I had accomplished what I had been planning since Voldemort informed
me he wanted Harry as an ally. I knew I would never get to see the
results—since The Dark Lord would no doubt have his Death Eaters find and kill
me as soon as he was able to stand again—but as I have already calculated,
there is not much that could go wrong, especially once counting in Harry’s
perseverance.
Of course, now I have burdened Harry with a large, world-defining task. Maybe I
am no better than Albus, after all.
Of course, that was why I had to run, rather than stay and help Voldemort go
through the pain of soul rebinding: I had to stay alive. It would have been
easy to just accept my fate, but I knew it was possible that Harry still needed
my help.
Help…something Albus almost never offered Harry.
The uncertainty of it all made me worrisome. I decided to make note of how I
have improved the situation.
Because Lord Voldemort has his entire soul once more, he will remember the
dreaded memories he forgot, and Harry will be there to empathize with him
because he understands—not to mention, his Gryffindor tendencies have made that
second nature to him.
Because Harry no longer has any horcruxes to destroy, or a villain to defeat, a
large part of stress in his life has been lifted.
Because Harry is going to help Lord Voldemort through his past, Voldemort will
learn to not use fear to gain people, but compassion.
Because Lord Voldemort will be able to understand what Harry has been through,
Harry will no longer act like a depressed teenage girl whom no one understands.
Because Lord Voldemort will no longer be considered “evil,” the war will end
and many people’s lives will be saved.
Because both Harry and Voldemort will be political allies, magical children in
muggle custody will definitely receive more care and concern.
There was not much that could go wrong. But…of course…there were always certain
possibilities…
Instead of Harry being off the hook from stopping evil, witches and wizards of
all types will expect him to solve their other problems, due to his “Savior”
status.
Instead of overcoming his terrible past, Lord Voldemort will fall into a state
of mental instability where he relives his most terrible memories at random
times, in a sort of stress disorder caused by childhood trauma.
Instead of Harry feeling better and no longer depressed, both he and Voldemort
will act like depressed teenage girls whom no one understands (though I’ll
admit, Voldemort has too much self-respect for this to occur).
Instead of Voldemort being considered “not evil” when it is announced that
Harry has joined his cause, Harry will be considered “evil.”
I knew that these things had more than a slim chance of occurring, but I could
not let the possible negative consequences ruin the possible positive
consequences, especially since the positive would, in turn, far outweigh the
negative. My intuition had more than confirmed this.
For now, however, I had to hide away and wait. Knowing the effective hunting
methods of The Dark Lord, I decided to hide in the muggle world that was
London. I was currently residing in a small flat that would make Voldemort turn
up his nose, but it would suit my purpose well. I had to have as little contact
with magic and the magical world as possible. All there was left to do was
await any news. I hoped I had not been foolish in my manipulations.
I sighed aloud, letting Harry control the outcome.
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
I was so thankful to wake in my room. I could vaguely remember the intensity of
all that light around me, and I vowed to never feel such things again. For the
moment, I was content with being ignorant of what had occurred, what Severus
had done to me, just feeling absolute relief that I was in my comfortable dark
room.
I felt different, however. Something about my relief made me question it.
Should I feelthisrelieved?
I estimated that I felt twice as relieved as normal, and it was odd.
I opened my eyes to my dark room and Harry in the chair next to my bed, looking
extremely tired.
“Tom. How are you feeling?”
Tom. I detest that name. “I am…fine, I suppose. I am in one piece, correct?”
Harry laughed humorlessly. “More than you know.”
I waited for him to explain what exactly he meant by that odd comment, but he
simply rubbed at his forehead with one hand. I mentally growled.
“What do you mean by that comment?”
Harry sighed. “Well, Snape told me about what he did. I’m afraid he isn’t
around to give you the news, so I’m the luckyone to tell you-”
“Out with it,” I commanded harshly.
Harry jumped slightly in his seat, but did not seem otherwise fazed. “You’re
human again. Your soul is one hundred percent whole, minus my piece,
so…actually you have about eighty six percent of your soul.”
I did not move. I was not certain that I was breathing. Nothing but shock ran
through me, filling my entire being unlike it ever had.
“Don’t ask how I figured out that math so fast,” Harry said to my silence. “I
was bored waiting for you to wake up.”
My heart quickened uncontrollably and my breathing grew labored and shallow.
Fear. I never thought it would be possible for me to be afraid. Threatened,
yes, but not afraid.
I can die. Easily. I can feel. This is madness.
I could feel Harry’s unusually luminous green eyes stare at me. I turned to
look at him, not expecting what I saw.
He was dressed in a deep green shirt and jeans, but his eyes drew me in. They
had the brightness of a cat’s with the composure of a snake’s; they were
hypnotizing. I grew (more) breathless under their gaze.
So weak. Useless under the gaze of another. Pathetic humanity.
I could not catch my breath until I had looked away.
“I am…human…” I said, the words tasting sour in my mouth. I still felt Harry’s
eyes upon me, but I dared not meet them.
“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his head again, absently. It was obvious he needed
sleep, but I would not allow him an extra blink until my situation was fully
explained.
“How…” I began, but immediately answered my own question.
Severus gave me that potion. He lied in saying it was to prolong my youth.
“What do I do now?” I asked. It sounded idiotic, but it was all my
brain—whirring with chaotic emotions—could muster.
“Well, I assume you need to get used to having an entire soul and all,” Harry
said. “You could focus on that, for now.”
“Get used to” this? Is it possible?
I could not be certain, but it was necessary to continue with my life. I had to
continue like nothing was wrong.
I can still be Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard in all of history.
The Dark Lord, whose name strikes fear into the hearts of every witch and
wizard…I must do this. For my cause.
An odd feeling came over me, then. I was ready to take on this challenge, as I
had been with many challenges before, but this was…different, somehow.
This feeling is… I couldn’t recall.
“Harry,” I began cautiously. If anyone knew what I was…feeling…it was Harry
Potter, Boy-Who-Feels-Everything. “I am…not so sure about this. It has
been…ages, it seems, since I have been so…human. I have little memory of these
odd…things inside me. Like feelings.” I wrinkled my nose in disgust. That was
all incredibly difficult to admit, however obvious it was.
“Oh. Uh…okay.” Harry’s brows furrowed and he tilted his head to the side.
“Should I…er…help you?”
This is going to be more difficult than I originally thought. I have to…trust.
Although every self-preserving instinct in me felt it was a terrible idea, I
pondered it further.
Harry is no threat to me. At least, not at the moment. He also voiced his
concerns this morning that I should…trust him more. It seems that may be
mutually beneficial…
“Alright, Harry,” I said. “Go on.”
Harry stared at me, face confused and eyes blank. “Okay…uh…how do I do that?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Can you not use our mind link? I know it is not
one-sided,” I snapped. It was odd for me to be so short on temper.
It is so much easier to get impatient now,I noted. Iwilllearn to control these
insufferable emotions.
Harry’s eyes bugged. “Well, I-I…haven’t used it. Ever. And I’m not so skilled
in Legilimency.”
I growled instinctively. My muscled tensed, especially in my arms, which I was
unsure would remain at my side or reach out for Harry’s throat…
If I must be the one to teach him. I must be calm to do so correctly.
After a few breaths, I felt the frustration drain from my body.
“Close your eyes,” I said without edge to my voice. I watched as Harry followed
my instruction. “Now, feel around your mind until you feel a presence that is
foreign, but still a part of you. It should be in the back of your skull.”
I watched Harry, whose eyes twitched under their lids. After a moment, He gave
a slight nod.
“Tap on it lightly, as if knocking on a door.”
He nodded again, seeming to concentrate. At once, I felt my mental barrier
shift vastly.
His door knocking isincrediblydifferent from my door knocking…
“Yes, I feel it. Thank you,” I snapped again. “Alright. When I open my mind,
you should feel something odd come over you, like a sudden change in mood. That
would be the strange emotions I am having.” The words stuck to my tongue.
What a terrible word. “Emotions.”
Harry nodded, eyes still closed.
He does realize that he no longer needs to concentrate? I will be doing the
remaining work.I sighed, still staring at him. He looks ridiculous.
Even so, I opened my mental barriers—something I rarely did—and let Harry view
the feeling(s).
Harry’s eyes opened, then, a slight smile on his face. “Well, first off, you
are incredibly irritated with me. I can understand that. I may have looked
ridiculous with my eyes closed, but I’m still learning. Also, you feel prepared
to take on this challenge. Persistent. You secretly think you’ll enjoy it.”
I was tempted to pull back my thoughts immediately. The little brat had seen
too much. However, it was too late. He had seen it.
Of course I was ready. After seeing the incredible rewards Harry had reaped
from these emotions, a part of me was ready to be taught to reap those same
rewards. I desired it all: loyalty, trust, adoration, respect. They all came
with power, which I enjoyed. I did not, however, enjoy emotions.
I rolled my eyes. “That is absurd. I will most certainly not enjoy this
process.”
Harry’s grin just grew. “Oh. No, of course not.”
Insufferable brat, I thought right at him.
“As it seems,” I began, “I feel more of each feeling than usual. Additionally,
I have less control over them. Is that…” I clenched my jaw. Asking Potter for
help was not something I enjoyed, but it had to be done. “…normal?” I finished
through my teeth.
Harry did a poor job of containing his smile. “Most likely, I guess. When your
soul was split up, you only had part of your emotions, so they were easier to
control. No, you have your whole soul, mostly, so it’s harder to control
because it’s…” his grin faded a bit, replaced by confusion. “…bigger? In a
way.”
I sighed.
I suppose that…makes sense.
===============================================================================
Harry’s_POV:
The rest of the day went by quickly. Mostly, Tom just kept asking me about his
“weird feelings,” which involved all sorts of grouchiness towards me when I saw
something he didn’t want me to see, like how he was appreciative that I was
helping him, how he felt he needed to trust me more since I mentioned it. It
was these little things that got me through the day with a smile on my face.
Tom really does care, I teased to myself. I would have teased him out loud, but
he was so grumpy, I didn’t want to push my luck.
I stayed by his bedside until he decided to try and walk, which he did
successfully. Once he did, he kicked me out of his “private quarters” so he
could get ready for bed (as if he hadn’t just spent the whole day in bed).
I shrugged it off. There were still so many things I hadn’t told him about the
situation, like why Snape did it, and how he gave me my wand back. I knew for a
fact the thoughts had crossed his mind, but he never voiced them. I needed to
tell him those things, though. That was a part of trust: being honest.
I decided to wait by his door after getting my wand from the other room, where
I had placed it while he was asleep. Right beside it was an owl. I looked over
it, hoping to see something familiar about it, but I hadn’t seen it before. I
went over to it and removed the note from its leg.
Dear Harry,
Where in the world have you gone off to? After you disappeared, Luna told us
what she knew. Harry, what did you trade You-Know-Who to get Luna back? Was it
you? You know we will find you in a heartbeat if he harms a single hair on you.
Mrs. Weasley has the entire Order searching for you. Please come back. Ron
hasn’t been the same since you left—none of us have. He won’t eat or get out of
bed. We just don’t want you to get hurt. We need you safe, Harry.
Love,
Hermione.
The note sent a shiver down my spine. I had almost forgotten about the world
outside this manor.
They have the whole Order looking for me? Ron isn’t eating? My leaving has made
a mess of things. I suppose I should have known I would be hurting them, still.
I looked around for some parchment. There was none, so I just decided to use
the back of the letter, and transfigured the chair into a quill and ink
temporarily.
Dear Hermione,
I know I left unexpectedly, but I promise I’m okay. I know everyone will freak
out when you tell them, and I’m sorry for that, but I did trade Luna for me. It
was really the only way to save her, and Tom
I shook my head. They don’t call him Tom. I scratch out Tom.
and Tom Voldemort hasn’t hurt me in any way. Tell Ron I’m sorry, and Mrs.
Weasley to call off the search. I feel really bad for causing so much trouble.
I hadn’t thought of the consequences. It was one of my “act don’t think”
moments. I am perfectly safe, though. Snape, however, is in need of some
protection. I’m sure, if you can find him, he can explain everything that has
gone on while I have been here. I have to stay here for now, but I promise to
be back by the time school starts.
Love,
Harry.
I nodded and tied the note back to the owl’s leg. It flew out the open door.
After I transfigured the quill and ink back into a chair, I grabbed my wand and
went back to Tom’s door. I knocked on it but didn’t get an answer. Sighing, I
sat back down in front of the door.
What am I going to do? I know when Snape tells them everything they will try to
find me. I can’t just bail on Tom. He really needs some guidance.
I tilted my head back against the door.
This is just a giant mess.
***** Past *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter has a short rape scene in it. I have included bolded
     instructions of where to skip and resume for those who do not wish to
     read it.
 Voldemort’s_POV:
After tossing Harry from my room, I got ready for bed. The day had been
terribly long for me. Never before was I given so much information all at once;
it was overwhelming. I had to match each feeling with a name and memorize it.
Although it may sound simple, humans have so many useless emotions.Of courseI
am having difficulties.
The frustration from such a task caused me to ache to be alone. As helpful as
Harry had been, my thoughts and feelings were not safe when he saw them. I knew
the job would not be enjoyable, but the tiredness I felt, the vulnerability…I
had let him into my mind for far too long. I stood in front of my bathroom
mirror, one hand on the granite around the sink, the other gently rubbing my
temple.
I need rest.
I slowly shuffled back into my bedroom, hopeful that I would be able to rest
through the night without Harry’s nightmares interfering. Just as I was walking
to my bed, my ears picked up a ruffling outside my door. I froze as my mind
calculated the source of the sound.
My Death Eater’s would not dare bother me in my home at this hour. They would
send a message. It could be Harry, for some god-awful reason. It could be
Severus, intent on finishing me off. Of course, Severus would silence his feet…
I sighed and shuffled to the door. Upon opening it, Harry’s sitting form fell
backwards onto my feet. He looked up at me, those bright green eyes like a
cat’s in the darkness.
He immediately fumbled around, trying to stand up. Once he did, he turned to
me.
“Hi,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” I asked, my voice sharp with impatience.
“Well, I-I, uh…” he scratched his head, “forgot to tell you about Snape. He
came and told me why he did everything, so I thought you might want to know.”
With a groggy rub to my forehead, I nodded. “Alright then.”
After the events of the day had overwhelmed me with other matters, I had not
taken the time to consider such things. Why did Severus do this, if not to
murder me on the spot? What other motives does he have?
“Well…” Harry began, eyes downcast but not shame-filled. “See, he told me that
he needed you to change how you did things. He said that I needed to help you
get used to being…well, having normal feelings, and to change the way your
cause was carried out. He didn’t say much more than that, but he did give me my
wand back.”
I watched as Harry pulled none other than his wand—the very one I had locked
away in a place only Iwas able to open—and held it out to me as if to display
it.
How on Earth did Severus manage to get that? The amount of powerful wards
surrounding it was vast, and I had the only key…
My eyes narrowed, although my heart beat erratically. “Did he mention how he
retrieved that?”
Harry’s eyes met mine. “No. I figured you gave it to him. I definitely wouldn’t
have thought he had it.”
Well, Harry is certainly more naïve than I originally thought…
“I would never take such a chance. No follower of mine can be trusted to hold a
wand I cannot destroy.”
There was a moment of silence between us, then. Harry still held his wand up
with the flats of both of his hands, and I realized, after a moment, that he
intended for me to take it.
Trust… said a voice at the back of my mind, ever nagging. Trust…
I growled inwardly.
“Considering you have not yet escaped, I suppose you can handle keeping it.”
He nodded, poorly hiding the growing smile on his face. I was quickly growing
tired of this foolishness.
What? Do I have a conscience, now? Is that possible?
“Oh, and Tom?”
“What?” I growled aloud. Harry did not seem fazed.
“You know my friends at Hogwarts, right? Or at least know ofthem? They sent me
an owl telling me they were worried, and that The Order was searching for me. I
replied to let them know I was safe and to cancel the search.” Harry ran a hand
up the back of his neck into his hair. “Just…thought I should let you know.”
I nodded. I did not think the information was particularly useful at the
moment, but the thought that Harry would inform me about such trivial things at
all…I did not regret trusting him.
He may be a good ally, after all.
“I see. I am glad you handled that. Now, if I may, I would like to rest.
Pleasant dreams, Harry.”
Harry nodded and gave a vague wave. “Goodnight, Tom.”
As he turned and walked in the other direction, I shut the door.
I really do wish that he has pleasant dreams. I cannotstandwhen he keeps me up
with his nightmares…
===============================================================================
Harry’s_POV:
The whole world was in chaos. Wizards and witches ran around, shooting red and
green bolts of light at each other. I was running through the middle of the
massive battle, dodging and throwing Finites. I didn’t stop running until I saw
Hermione and Ron, facing each other, on opposite sides of the battle. Hermione
had reddened eyes and wild hair. Ron looked pale and gaunt, almost ready to
pass out.
With an unsteady hand, Hermione raised her wand at Ron. I began running, trying
to stop it, but I was too far away. A green bolt of light ran across my vision,
leaving everything white for a brief moment.
When I could see again, Hermione no longer held the wand that killed Ron. In
her place was me, a wicked smile on my face. I watched as I walked over to
where his body was, looked down at it, and kicked his head. Hermione ran to
him, then, tears in her eyes, and pulled her wand out on me.
My perspective shifted. I could now see through the eyes of the me who murdered
Ron. I could hear myself chuckle darkly before raising my wand at Hermione. I
tried with all my might to pull my hand back down, but my body wasn’t
responding. Before a word could pass Hermione’s lips, another green bolt of
light came from my wand and hit her.
She collapsed beside Ron, head rolling to face him, a look of shock in her dull
brown eyes.
I continued to kill everyone on sight: friends, enemies, bystanders. The
battlefield grew quieter with every spell that left my wand until there was
only one person left.  A little boy stood before me, eyes as red as the blood
that still coursed through his veins. He was obviously alone, though not only
literally; his tattered clothes hung from his small body. Blood began to drip
from his nose and mouth, as if he had been battling with his hands, rather than
his wand, and bruises lined his arms and legs.
I raised my wand to him. I couldn’t stop myself. I knew what spell was on my
mind and could feel my lips form the words, but I didn’t hear them.
Avada Kedavra.
Just before the spell hit him, the world went black.
My mind came back to the real world one sense at a time. I could feel the
shaking of my body, the cold sweat on the soaked sheets that entangled me and
the warm tears that ran down my face. A pair of hands held my shoulders firmly.
Whimpers escaped from my mouth in between my gasps for air. My mouth tasted dry
and my lungs and throat were on fire. I grabbed at the arms holding me, digging
my nails into them, trying with all my might to breathe. The air smelt of salt
and sweat. I still couldn’t see, but my head still grew dizzy and fuzzy.
Distant words made their way to my ears.
“Harry…” the voice purred in the darkness. “Harry, come back.”
I inhaled a quick, sharp breath that sent a stabbing pain through my chest, but
my world became clear. The room around me was dimly lit. I was in my room in
Tom’s manor. Tom sat beside me, pulling me to him by wrapping his arms around
me. His breath was hot on my ear as he whispered to me.
“Harry,” he said more harshly. “Come back. I need you to stay with me. You
cannot keep doing this. You cannot keep falling.”
“I wasn’t falling,” I said.
I could feel Tom’s body tense before he suddenly released me.
“I was killing everyone,” I continued on without prompting. “Even my friends.
There was a battle going on, and I killed everyone on both sides.” Fresh tears
pooled in my eyes as I thought back to the memory. “Tom, it was awful.”
My painful breaths grew shaky. I killed them. It was all my fault, my guilt
told me. The words repeated themselves, taunting me. I killed them…I killed
them…All my fault…
“Harry,” Tom said again. “Calm down. Breathe.”
I tried, but every inhale sent pain everywhere. I was shaking more, and
sweating again. I tried to shake the thoughts out of my head, but the nightmare
kept replaying itself. I killed them…Avada Kedavra…my fault…“Ron! Harry, how
could you?”…all my fault…
I pulled myself into Tom and buried my head in his shoulder, trying to get away
from the thoughts, trying to feel safe again.
‘They won’t go away,’ I whispered. ‘I can’t wake up.’
I killed them. My fault. It’s my fault. I killed them all. Avada Kedavra! I
killed every single person. It’s all my fault. “Harry! How could you? We loved
you!” It was all my fault.
Suddenly, there was a push in my mind. An unknown presence entered, foreign and
yet a part of me. From it came a soothing feeling, and the awful thoughts fled.
All at once, everything was real again. I was in my room at Tom’s manor. I
could breathe. I stopped crying.
I pulled my head from Tom’s shoulder and sat upright, wiping away what was left
of my tears. My heart rate had slowed, thankfully. Any faster and it would have
jumped right out of me.
‘That would have been a sight to see,’a dark voice softly joked in my mind. ‘A
heart walking around without an owner. Although, I suppose odder things have
happened.’
I pushed myself away from Tom, eyes wide.
You’re in my mind!
‘Yes. Indeed I am. Only to stop your horrible nightmare and calm you. Did you
realize you were screaming? I did not need any magic to figure out you were not
sleeping well.’ I felt the slight irritation in his mind.
Oh. Sorry.
Tom handed me some calming draught. I held the bottle in my hands, turning it
with uncertainty. I really didn’t want to go back to sleep because I knew I
would dream. I didn’t care to let myself fall into some odd wonderland of
strange things; I just wanted some rest.
I shook my head. I don’t think I should go back to sleep.
Confusion. ‘Why not? You have taken this potion before, as have I. It works.
Incredibly well. You will have no more nightmares.’
Yes, I know. But I have weird dreams. I don’t want to dream. I just want to
sleep.
Exhaustion fell over me then, pulling me back to the bed, threatening to make
me collapse. I was certain Tom could see it. Still, I was determined not to
sleep.
I’ve been here a while and I’ve had maybe half a good-night’s sleep. I give up.
Screw sleep.
I couldn’t quite make out Tom’s expression, but I could feel the wave of
confusion. ‘Harry, it’s been four days. You must sleep. It is vital and simply
unavoidable.’
I sighed. I know.I laid back down and turned over to shove my face into the
(still damp) silk pillow. I hate dreams, though. I’d just rather stay up.
Irritation, again. This time, more of it. ‘Sleep does not work that way.’
I don’t care. I’m not having any more dreams.
‘Stubborn brat!’
I heard that!
‘I intended you to. Now, stop being an immature child and go to sleep.’
You don’t understand. I sat up and looked at him, my dry eyes becoming wet once
more. I can’t stand nightmares. I fuckinghatethem. More than I hate most other
things. It’s on my list.
‘What list?’
Oh…I didn’t mean to mention that. Blood rushed to my face. Thought
conversations are weird. Well…I made this list of things I hate. I only have,
like, seven things on there, and having nightmares/dreams is one of them.
‘A list of things you hate?’ Surprise erupted from him. ‘And there are only
seven things?’ Thoughts ran through his mind at the speed of light, then, too
fast for me to understand. ‘Alright then, Harry. If you wish not to sleep, we
can discuss this…list you have.’
I…uh…okay. How should I…
‘Just think about it as you normally would.’
I nodded.
Things I hate in this world:
-This bloody fucking war
-Being the Boy-Who-Lived/Savior/Chosen One
-Uncle Vernon
-Being haunted by dead people I care about
-Being alone
-Having dreams/nightmares
I waited for a thought response from Tom, but once again, thoughts ran through
his mind so fast.
Tom?
‘You really do not like being the Boy-Who-Lived? I always figured you enjoyed
the fame it entitled you.’
I scoffed. No. I hate it. Obviously. I never wanted to be famous. I can’t even
remember doing the thing that made me famous. I was a baby! And people think
that just because I didn’t die that they can run my life, or that I can fix
everything. But they don’t know how much it sucks. I lived, yes, but no one
else around me does.
‘Mhm…which leads me to my next question. What do you mean by being haunted by
your loved ones?’
I sighed. These were deep scars that still pained me, but as much as I did not
want to talk about them, I didn’t want to sleep more.
Well, sometimes I feel terrible, and I go somewhere to be alone. Then, I see
people around me, like Sirius or Dumbledore, or even my parents. They always
tell me that they need me, and that I need to save them.Tears I hadn’t even
noticed rolled down my cheeks. But how can I do that? They’re dead! It’s all a
cruel joke.
‘I…’ Tom’s thoughts came to a pause. I could tell he was confused, but also
concentrating. ‘Who is Uncle Vernon?’
A sour taste came into my mouth. He’s my muggle uncle that I used to live with.
Now he was curious. ‘Why do you hate him? I understand that you had a hard life
there, of course, but you do not hate your other muggle relatives. Why only
him?’
That was a thought I tried to keep away from. It brought back every feeling I
had felt that dreadful day it happened, and all the times that followed.
I…he…
I couldn’t find the words. I decided, instead, that if words could not describe
it, there was another way to share it. Though, I feared opening up that memory.
Brace yourself.
In my mind, I saw it: the darkness of my cupboard. I had been thinking of new
ways to avoid Dudley at school. Sometimes, if I stayed in the classroom until
everyone else left, I could get around getting beaten up in the hallway.
At the time, my Aunt Petunia and Dudley were staying at my grandmother’s house,
and since my uncle had some really important work to attend to at his job, he
couldn’t take the time off to go. Of course, I never went on trips if they
could help it.
On this particular night, I had tried for the longest time to go to sleep, but
I just couldn’t seem to get there. My mind was full of too many thoughts. I
used to wonder if it would have been different if I had fallen asleep.
There was a loud banging noise upstairs. It rang through the hallway and shook
my door. I sat upright in my bed, listening intently.
What was that?
After a moment of silence, loud thumps came down the stairs and down the
hallway, stopping just in front of my door. A fist knocked on it loudly.
“Harry! Open up!”
Hearing Vernon’s voice, urgent and booming, I was startled. I immediately
unlocked my door, worried something had happened.
“What is it?”
His moustache twitched. “I need you to attend to something. Upstairs. Now.”
Something about him was off. His normally flat hair was ruffled, and his fat
pink face was red. There was a look in his no-nonsense eyes, one I thought was
reserved for Christmas ham, or any sort of dessert.
I stood and exited my cupboard, confused. He prodded my back with his chubby
finger, urging me to move faster. I did so, stopping at the top of the stairs.
Nothing seemed out of place. I glanced around, even more confused.
A hand—hishand—grabbed the collar of my night shirt and dragged me into his
bedroom. When the hand released, I practically fell to the floor.
“Now Harry…” his hand grabbed my arm tightly and pulled me towards him so that
his mouth was right by my ear. “If I hear one word escape your mouth, one
sound, you will find yourself receiving the worst beating of your life.”
Hi chubby fingers reached for my shirt and pulled it off. Before I knew what
was going on, I was naked on his bed, frantically looking around the room. He
unbuckled his trousers and slid them down.
Oh god. Tears began to run down my face. Oh god.
[***if you want to skip, go to the next set of stars***]
I tried to run away, to get back to my cupboard and never come out, but his
hand wrapped around my thin arm painfully tight and threw me back. I stared at
the bright red mark that he left on me with incredulousness. I was about to say
something when he slapped my face hard, leaving a stinging on my cheek and
bringing more tears to my eyes. I cradled my cheek, wanting to scream, call for
help, but I didn’t dare utter a sound.
What’s worse? The beating or this? It seemed I was getting both, regardless.
He moved my legs around, but as much as I resisted, he was stronger than my
eight-year-old self. One hand went to my hips, cold and alien. I shut my eyes
tightly, trying to get away from it. Cold and exposed, I shivered.
Suddenly, something large and hot shoved itself into my ass, ripping the skin.
I wanted to scream and sob as the pain, violation, and vulnerability ran
through me. His other hand held my thigh in place, then, and he pulled out
slightly before shoving himself all the way in forcefully. Whimpers escaped
from my mouth, then, as the searing pain doubled. I could feel the blood
escaping, now, and the tears continued to fall. He moved out again, cursing to
himself quietly, and back in with more speed and force. I almost yelped, but I
would not allow myself to. My whole body burned with pain. He continued to
speed up, which only hurt more. I had never felt such pain before, even when he
beat me, but I stayed silent. I couldn’t fight it. The screams stuck in my
throat, choking me. I dug my nails into the bed so hard, my hands went white
and numb. I laid there and cried and took it with shame.
After what seemed an eternity later, a small whispered moan came from him, and
a thick substance coated my insides. He removed himself from me, picked up my
limp body by the arm, and dragged me to my cupboard, throwing my clothes in
before shutting the door.
[***this is where you can continue if you skipped***]
I quickly locked the door after him and waited for the sound of his footsteps
to climb the stairs before I vomited in the corner. I sobbed quietly to myself,
then, and redressed.
I laid back down on my bed, eyes closed. My body was ridden with ghost hands,
still feeling the places where he had touched my naked body, where he had
gripped and hit me. My ass throbbed and my pants were wet with blood and…I
didn’t want to think what else.
I hate you… I thought. I hate you…
I came back to reality. I was sitting up, my knees to my chest with my chin on
top, arms wrapped around myself. My eyes dropped tears onto my sleeping clothes
and air was trapped in my throat. I could still feel those ghostly hands…
I hate him. I hate him so much.
Disgust. Shock. Fear. ‘Harry…’ I could feel the conflicting emotions in Tom’s
mind. He didn’t know what to do. ‘I…I’m sorry that…you had such an experience.’
He placed a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me, but I tensed and
pulled away. He pulled back just as quickly.
I shook my head, trying to clear the memories, but they plagued my mind, like
an ever-living nightmare.
I hate him.
After a moment, Tom’s mind cleared and he nodded. ‘I understand, Harry. Muggles
can be cruel.’
How do I make the past go away? I thought more to myself than to him.
‘The past never leaves. It is only forgotten.’ A few quick images flashed
through Tom’s mind, though I barely noticed.
I’ve tried to forget. I can’t. How do I forget?
Tom stood. ‘There are many ways. Follow me.’ He turned and walked to the door,
so I followed.
We walked down the hallway to the arch, down the stairs, and into another
hallway I hadn’t been down. We finally arrived at a door. Tom’s wand appeared
in his hand, and he performed a complicated series of wand movements. After a
few moments, he put his wand away and opened the door. The room seemed to be
empty. Tom extended his arm, then, and a table appeared with a collection of
bottles on it.
“This is a private room,” he said out loud. “Here, I keep the memories I wish
to forget. No one knows of this room. Except me…” He quickly summoned another,
identical table and placed it next to the first. “…and you. If you wish, you
may use it.”
I looked at the bottles on Tom’s table. They had no labels (which would have
defeated the purpose, I suppose), but the glass of the bottles danced with
colors and little figures, almost like a child’s finger painting.
“How do I…” I looked back to Tom, letting my mind convey the rest of my
question.
Tom put his wand to his head to show me.
“Erado Harry’s nightmare of Sirius.”
A small light as thin as a hair came from Tom’s head, much like I had seen
Dumbledore do with his pensieve. Tom twirled the light with his wand, and a
bottle much like the others appeared and floated onto the table. It was a navy
color inside, with a little black splotch over a light blue one.
He turned to me. “Start with something easily forgotten, then move on to the
more difficult ones.”
I nodded. “Accio wand.”
I felt my magic reach out and grab my wand; I pulled it back quickly, and my
wand hit my hand. I put it to my head like Tom had shown me and picked a small
memory.
With help from Tom’s mind, I cast, “Erado Doug the unicorn.”
I saw the hair-thin light appear, and twirled it with some complications. It
didn’t want to twist at all, but I somehow managed to get it around my wand and
tipped my wand to let it fall off. It turned into a bright white bottle with a
hint of green and floated onto my once empty table.
“Doug the unicorn?” Tom asked skeptically.
My eyebrows knit together. “What?” That was the most random thing I had ever
heard Tom say. It hadn’t made sense at all.
Tom shook his head. “No matter. Be cautious when around these bottles. If they
fall, they will break and release the memory back to its owner. That is also a
way to retrieve the memory once it is erased, but I fail to see why you would
want to remember anything after making it into a bottle.”
“Okay.” I thought of a way to test exactly how that worked. “Erado Buckbeak.”
I pulled the thin light from my head and tried to twirl it, which was much
easier this time. Its bottle became blue with a spikey white splotch. Tom gave
me another look, and I felt the confusion come from his mind, but he remained
silent.
Quicker than the bottle had landed on the table, I pushed it off, sending it
crashing to the floor. As the pieces of glass dissolved into nothingness, I saw
it all: Buckbeak; when I first met him, when he attacked Malfoy, when I saved
his life, when I gave him to Sirius. All the memories filed back into their
places like pieces to a puzzle that had empty spaces.
“Well,” Tom began, “now that you have remembered, what is a buckbeak?”
For a moment, I was confused. Our minds were connected, I thought, but he
hadn’t seen everything I had just seen.
“He was a hippogriff that Hagrid had during my third year. I saved him from
being executed, gave him to Sirius, and received him back after his death.
Buckbeak’s been living with Hagrid again.”
We stood in silence for a moment, thinking our own thoughts in our heads, not
necessarily paying attention to the other’s thoughts.
“What was it like?” Tom asked quietly. “Remembering.”
“It’s like I had blank spots in my memory that I had overlooked, and suddenly,
they were filled.”
He nodded.
I thought about other things I really wanted to forget. Of course, the first
thing that popped into my mind, I knew I had to try.
“Erado being raped.”
I pulled the hair from my head and twirled it. It was thick and complicated to
twirl, but I managed it. When its bottle formed, it had pink and green and red
splotches all intertwined together. I stared at it for a moment, deciding how
ugly it all looked together. I felt lighter, then. Better. A great burden had
been lifted off my shoulders, and it was great. I smiled.
This is nice.
“Yes,” Tom agreed. “It is quite a relief.”
“Yeah,” I said through a yawn. I wiped a hand over my face. I didn’t want to
sleep yet. I looked at the two bottles on my table. Two pieces of my puzzle
that I would be okay not having.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” I looked to Tom, realizing I could no longer feel what he felt.
“Are you not going to pick other things? Losing friends? Loved ones? You have
been through that many times.”
But why would I want to forget losing them? I thought to myself. “I wouldn’t
want to still think they were alive.”
“Then forget them entirely,” Tom said, as casually as ever. “It’s as simple as
that.”
Forget the people I care about? The thought was crazy, if not offensive. I
couldn’t do that. Yeah, I might not have to remember their death, but I also
wouldn’t remember all the good times I had with them.“But then I’d lose
everything good about them, too. All the love I felt for them and that they
felt for me. I couldn’t do that.”
Tom sighed. “I see then. Well, if you have nothing else right now, you can
always come here later. I altered the wards. You do not require any spells to
enter. Simply open the door.”
I smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Tom.”
Tom looked at me, eyes tired. I wished for a moment I still knew what he was
thinking.
“Yes, well, it really is late. Or rather, early. I need my rest. Do what you
wish.”
With that, he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I smiled to myself. I had the rest of the night to do “what I wished.” In my
mind, I chuckled mischievously. Time to snoop around.
***** Searching to Find *****
3rd_Person_POV:
Harry started snooping in the room he was currently in. He looked through all
the bottles on Tom’s table, trying and failing to understand the vague pictures
they held. They were mostly splotches of color with a few shapes and figures.
He sighed. Onto the next room. Where shall that be, exactly?
He stepped out of the room. He couldn’t quite remember which hallway this was
that branched off the spacious room—he had just followed Tom before, not quite
paying attention to where they went—but he didn’t want to start here, anyway.
He feared it may be close to the hallway that held Tom’s room.
After considering for a moment, he walked to the archway that led to the
spacious room and went through it. Nearing the long table and chairs, he looked
back to where he had come from, only to find that there were several hallways
behind him, all darkened and shadowed in the same fashion, and he had no clue
which one he had emerged from.
Bloody hell…so much for finding that room again.
Harry didn’t know what to do, so he went back up the stairs to the familiar
hallway that held his room. It was one he knew well, though he had never been
into any of the other rooms. The irony was not lost on him.
Curious as to what lay behind the doors of this hallway—his hallway, he decided
to label it—he went to the first door, which was locked.
He pulled out his wand. “Alohamora,” he said quietly to the door.
The door swung open, and Harry stepped inside the dark room.
“Lumos.”
The tip of his wand lit up, revealing another hallway that was somewhat damp
and smelt of mold. He took one step deeper in before his guilt washed over him.
Tom trusted me not to snoop, and here I am, snooping. He’s never going to trust
me again if I’m caught.
Harry sighed, thinking for a quiet moment. A small, mischievous voice in his
mind spoke up.
That is,ifyou get caught.
Harry grinned.
“Accio Cloak of Invisibility.”
A few short moments later, the cloak was in Harry’s hand. He put it on and
silenced his feet, as well (to be extra certain he wouldn’t get caught). He
still felt guilty, but he really wanted to know what Tom hid in his house, to
know what secrets his hallway held.
Harry walked down the dark hallway a bit more. He could see no arches or doors.
Just a dead end made of old, moldy bricks. He frowned.
It probably needs a spell or something. Damn.
He walked out of the hall, locking the door after him.
Still under the cloak, he went to the next room. After a quick Alohamora, Harry
walked into a large library. Massive books lined the walls—some grey, some
black, all wooden and filled to the brim with books.
Hermione would love this room, he thought. She could read for the rest of her
life.
In the middle of the room was a large mahogany table with a rather comfortable-
looking grey chair. The table had nothing on it, so Harry assumed the room
hadn’t been used much. A little disappointed that he had found nothing, Harry
left the room, once again locking the door behind him.
He repeated the process with the next door, finding a potions lab. There was a
cauldron on a massive wooden desk, a wall full of shelves that held ingredients
and finished potions. Harry went over to inspect the potions. There was
anything one would ever need, from antidotes to skele-grow to wolfsbane, all
alphabetized. There was nothing there Harry needed at the moment, and so he
left, locking the door behind him once more.
Harry went to the next door, spoke his unlocking spell, and stepped into what
looked like a sitting room. It was, of course, decorated in blacks, greens, and
silver. A green couch was in front of a fireplace filled with bits of black
glass instead of wood, and a window was to its left. Through the window were
green hills and trees with orange, yellow, brown, and red leaves, all drenched
in moonlight.
But it’s still Summer, he thought, his brows drawing together in confusion. He
figured it must be some sort of spell.
The walls of the room were covered with framed paintings of nature, many
looking like the hills and trees in the window, but during different seasons.
The leaves swayed in the breeze of Spring, or had disappeared under the snowy
white hills. Wildflowers and bees popped up in another, and clouds stormed,
pouring rain onto the thirsty grasses. All of them were pleasing to look at.
Harry found he liked the room a lot, but it held nothing of what he was looking
for. He did make a mental note to return, though. He closed the door behind him
and locked it, moving onto the next one.
The next door opened to a mostly empty room. The only item inside was what
appeared to be a large magnifying glass. Harry walked over to the glass,
expecting to see some vague reflection of himself, or even a close-up view of
the wooden floor, but he didn’t.
Oh, right. I’m wearing my cloak.
He removed his cloak and looked into the glass again, finding his reflection
distorted, as if it were a broken mirror. He thought it was odd to have such a
thing.
Unless it does something…
Harry thought of what it could possibly do, but figured it would probably take
a spell to work.
Damn.
Harry sighed and leaned his back against the door, staring at the…whatever it
was.
What would Tom think if he caught me? He’d stop trusting me. What would he do
if I broke his trust? Probably keep a closer eye on me. Maybe he’d even follow
me around.Harry blinked a bit as his heart began to race. How do I know he
hasn’t already been following me? Seeing if he can trust me with my wand. He
shook his head. That’s impossible. He went to sleep…right?
He had been sure before, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“Ugh!” he said to the ceiling.I wish I could make sure he was asleep. I don’t
want to break our trust.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement.
He glanced back to the spyglass and found that it had changed. He creeped
closer and peered in, finding not his broken reflection, but Tom, who was
laying in his large bed, eyes closed, breathing deep and slow.
Harry’s eyes widened.
So that’s what it does.
He just watched for a moment as Tom’s chest rose and fell. He looked so calm,
so unlike anyone would imagine a Dark lord to be. It reminded Harry that Tom
was just a person, especially now that his soul was in one piece. It wasn’t too
far of a stretch for him to see it.
“Show me Ron,” he said to the glass.
The image changed to show Ron, sitting up by the window of his room that Harry
used to look out of after having a nightmare. The room hadn’t changed much,
still messy with Ron’s clothes on the floor and all. He did notice that Ron was
paler than usual.
Maybe it’s the moonlight shining on him, or the glass altering it.
While both explanations were plausible, the sinking feeling in Harry’s stomach
told him it was real, and that he had caused it.
He hated to see Ron mistreat himself like this; it was so unlike the Ron he
knew. His best friend Ron loved to eat, and he was often the first to sleep and
the last to wake. But here was a Ron he did not know. A Ron who wasn’t eating
and who stared out the window instead of sleeping.
Harry didn’t want to see Ron like that anymore, and so the scene faded back to
his distorted reflection.
Guilt returned to the forefront of his mind and started to nibble on his
thoughts. For a moment, he thought his night of snooping was over, but he shook
his head, pushing aside his thoughts for the sake of his curiosity. He had a
mission: to look behind every door in his hallway.
Harry put his cloak back on, locked and shut the door behind him, and moved
onto the next room.
Behind the next door was another room. It had a hardwood floor in a dark oak
color and a matching bar on the far wall opposite where he stood. He stared in
amazement at the shelves behind it that held various alcohols and glasses.
Curious, he walked over and sat on one of the white stools.
Without warning, a glass of butterbeer slid down the bar right to Harry’s
hands. He caught it and smiled.
Exactly what I wanted.
He looked up towards the other end of the bar to thank whoever had sent it to
him, but there was no one there.
Curious…
He picked up the butterbeer carefully and took a sip, enjoying the way it
tasted. Memories of Hogsmead came into his mind: he, Hermione, and Ron, all
sitting around a table, butterbeers in hand. They hadn’t been so carefree in so
long, it seemed. He wished that he and his friends could still complain about
the small things, like seeing Ginny snogging someone in the corner. But they
had grown, and so had their problems.
After a while, Harry had almost finished his butterbeer and the lights above
him began to grow brighter.
It must almost be morning.
Harry sighed and quickly finished his drink before grabbing his things and
exiting the room, leaving the glass on the bar. He still had two doors to look
behind, but he had lost his curiosity. He was just tired.
He went to the end of the hallway to his door and unlocked it. Once inside, he
shoved his cloak underneath the cushion of the grey chair and put his wand on
the tiny beside table. Harry let himself fall back onto the bed, arms spread
out. He laid there for a moment, wondering what to do.
I guess I should shower.
Harry inhaled deeply and sat up. A hot shower sounded nice, so he went to the
bathroom and turned on the hot water. He took off his clothes and stepped in,
feeling the heat begin to melt away the stress in his shoulders. He considered
masturbating, but he thought better of it.
That’ll only make me tired.
Instead, he focused on working the stress out of his body. He rolled his
shoulders back a few times, then forwards. He stretched his neck to both sides
and lifted his arms up as high as they would go before letting them fall back
down to his sides. He took in a deep breath and felt better.
He finished up, got out, and got dressed. For a moment, he looked at his
clothes in the mirror then decided to transfigure them.
He watched in the mirror as he changed the color of his shirt, loving the
effect it had on his eyes. He kept changing the color until his eyes reminded
him of the hills he saw through that window in the sitting room. His shirt was
an earthy deep brown like soil, and his eyes were the color of swaying grass;
he loved it. After that, he really didn’t want to change the color of his
jeans, so he let them be.
He walked back into his room, unsure of what to do next.
It’s early morning, and Tom will probably sleep longer since I kept him up all
night.
Sighing with boredom, Harry sat on the edge of his bed, thinking of things to
do. He didn’t want to leave his room; he felt quite comfy there for the moment,
but there wasn’t much he could do in it but sleep.
Maybe some magic?
Harry straightened his back and reached for his wand, but hesitated. He had
been so useless without it before. He really needed to work on his wandless
magic. Hermione once showed him how to make a butterfly and make it flutter
about the room where she pleased. He couldn’t do it then, of course, but maybe,
if he could put his head into it, he could do it now.
He extended his right arm, feeling the magic in his blood move to his hand and
come out his fingertips in little wisps. He focused on the wisps with his eyes,
thinking at them to turn into a butterfly, but they did not do so. The more he
tried to concentrate on the butterfly, the more the wisps seemed to disappear.
After a long moment, he let his focus go, and the wisps died.
Harry sighed.
I’m not getting anywhere. Why not?
He tried to remember Hermione when she had shown him: twilight, just outside
the front door to the Burrow, she wore a scarf to keep the morning chill at
bay, her daring eyes tired but still curious. Harry had been awake for a while
from a nightmare, and he hadn’t expected anyone to find him for quite some
time. He was assuming Hermione was going to question him on what happened in
his nightmare, but instead she held out her hand before them, curled up her
fingers for a moment, and then released a butterfly, the details of its wings
glowing softly.
The thought sparked another in Harry’s mind. He brought his arm back up and
closed his fingers into a fist. He moved his magic through his fingertips once
more, and the wisps became trapped in his palm, forcing them to gather. He
could feel them build, and when he thought it decent, he opened his hand. In
his palm was a glob of light with little wisps hanging off here and there. He
prodded the glob with a finger, and it fell apart.
He tried again, this time letting more wisps build up. When he opened his hand
this time, the glob of light was more of a ball.
It’s a start.
He prodded the ball, and rather than falling apart, it only moved a bit,
leaving an indent where his finger had been. He poked it on the other side, and
it left another indent. He smiled at what he figured was a wizard’s version of
clay. He supposed it would work just fine.
He began to mold it, picturing in his mind a bird instead of a butterfly. After
he had a basic structure (which looked more like an elephant with its trunk cut
off than a bird), he tried making it move, starting with its head.
The clay twitched a bit, but never really moved. Harry huffed.
Maybe it doesn’t look enough like a bird.
He smashed it in his hand, and it flattened into a patty. He thought, then, of
an easier animal to make.
Many things crossed his mind, like worms and bats and spiders, but he really
didn’t feel happy making those. He really didn’t think a butterfly would be
much easier than a bird. Anything with wings, really, was out of the question,
for he was terrible at making them. Harry decided to just mold whatever,
letting his hand do all the work without much thought. After a bit, he had a
ball with an almost cave-looking part hanging over it. Harry didn’t know what
it was, but he tried to move it.
Suddenly, two eyes opened on top of the cave structure and the ball uncoiled,
revealing its reptilian skin. It was a cobra in his hand. Startled, Harry
jumped a bit, and in response, the snake’s head flew back and hissed, its hood
widening.
It copied me. In a weird way.
Harry watched the cobra closely, turning his head to the side. The snake made
of light turned its head, too. Harry smiled, and the cobra stuck out its forked
tongue, assumingly happy.
Harry put his hand that held the cobra down on the bed next to him and thought
for it to slither off, so it did, but as soon as it came off his hand, it fell
into wisps.
As the wisps disappeared, Harry sighed. Now what?
He got off the bed and walked over to the bookcase. 
I guess I could do some reading. Anything interesting?
He looked at all of the books, but none of them had a title on the spine. He
picked one randomly and pulled it out. It had a blue cover, but no title
anywhere, so he opened it. The first few pages were blank, but after flipping a
few more, a title came up.
Magical Paintings.
The next page was a table of contents. Harry skimmed it, reading various things
such as Portraits: Why still Life Won’t Do and Moving from Frame to Frame. He
flipped to a chapter called Magical Photographs vs. Portraits. It was rather
dull reading, and Harry quickly closed the book. When he went to put it back on
the bookcase, he could not find where it had been. He shrugged and gave up
looking after a few seconds, and just placed the book on the small space in
front of some other books on a shelf. He let go and the book fell off. Harry
inhaled in surprise, but before the book hit the floor, it froze and floated
back up to a spot just higher than Harry had been looking, squeezing in tightly
between two other books.
I swear, this house knows more magic than I do.
After a moment of standing quietly, thinking of what had happened and what to
do then, Harry realized that he had nothing else he cared to do in this room.
He did not want to read, sleep, or practice magic.
Maybe it’s late enough for Tom to be awake?
Harry cracked open the door to the hallway and found that the lights were
bright now, showing that a decent time of morning had come, much to his relief.
He walked down the hallway to the arch and looked down to the spacious room.
Tom was in his chair, as always, eating breakfast by himself. Harry walked down
the stairs and over to his own seat, standing just before it.
Am I hungry? I have been up for a while, and I haven’t eaten anything since
yesterday. Maybe I should eat.
As Harry sat down, he noticed that Tom had only just started on his own food.
“Good morning, Tom.”
“A nice morning, indeed,” Tom replied. He slept rather well last night and was
in a good mood, a frighteningly rare occurrence. “How was your night after I
left? I assume you did not sleep, so how did you occupy your time?”
Sadie popped in, a tray of breakfast in her hands for Harry. She placed it in
front of him, he thanked her, and she smiled before popping away.
“Tom,” Harry started, unsure of how Tom would react. He seemed to be as
ungrouchy as he had ever been, and Harry did not want to spoil it, but he
needed Tom to trust him. “I’m not going to lie to you. I went snooping around
in the hallway where my room is.”
Tom took a bite of his food, showing no emotion. Harry watched him, wondering
for a moment if he had even heard.
In Tom’s guarded mind, a jolt of panic ran through his body.
“Oh really?” he asked. He looked straight into Harry’s confused eyes, both
disguising his own expression and judging Harry’s. “And what did you find on
your little…adventure?”
Harry was a little surprised he wasn’t being yelled at, or punished, but it was
almost scarier that way. Were there going to be consequences? “Well, I found
lots of things, but nothing too interesting.”
Tom raised an eyebrow, thoughts running through his head quickly. He knew Harry
to be fairly clever, especially when it came to meddling, but had he stumbled
upon something? “What rooms did you go into? All of them?”
“No,” Harry began, taking a bite of food. “I didn’t go into the last two rooms
closest to my door,” he finished after chewing and swallowing. “I found the
potions lab, some sitting room with nice paintings, a looking glass, a dead-end
hallway, and a bar. The bar has some very nice butterbeer, by the way.” He took
another bite of breakfast, smiling at its delicious taste.
Tom nodded casually. A dead-end hallway…No doubt he was not trying too hard to
find something, then.
“Very well, then. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Harry looked down to his plate in confusion. He’s not going to yell? Scold me?
Hex me?He waited for Tom to elaborate more, but he did not. Harry took another
bite of food to try and distract himself from doing something stupid, like
complaining about not being in trouble, but even the food did not soothe the
nagging feeling in his gut.
Harry put down his fork. “Are you mad?”
Tom always tried to be careful with his emotions, especially now. He sorted his
feelings out before him in an attempt to decode them: relief of Harry not
having found something dangerous, irritation for Harry not listening to his
rule of not snooping, surprise and slight suspicion for the honesty.
“I suppose I can see no harm in what you have done, but I do not want you
snooping around further, especially in other hallways.”
Harry nodded. He felt a bit disappointed in himself, now, knowing that Tom had
no punishment for him but had trusted him to follow the rule. Would Tom
continue to trust him after he broke that rule once?
“Am I allowed back into the rooms I’ve already seen?” Harry asked.
For a moment, Tom thought of himself when he was a child, braking rules and yet
still asking to benefit from doing so. Was that not how Harry was currently
acting? The thought made him want to smile for a moment, and then frown the
next.
Tom watched Harry a moment, scanned over his face. He noticed guilt. It was
rather laughable; maybe Harry was really a child—at some moments, Tom forgot
this. He wondered if, in a change of heart, he should start yelling at Harry
only to see Harry’s eyes begin to water. He supposed he could, if only for the
amusement of it, but thought against it as he remembered he was supposed to be
fostering an alliance…with a child.
“Harry, if you have already seen the rooms, what would be the point in keeping
you out? You may go into the rooms if you wish, with the exception of the first
room. I trust that you can respect that, especially since you found nothing of
worth in there.”
Many things jumped out at Harry from what Tom had said. The first was that he
said he trusted Harry. He smiled inwardly. Good.
The second was that, if nothing was inside the room but a dead-end hallway, why
wasn’t he allowed inside? It could have just been a test, but that still
wouldn’t explain the reason for the hallway in the first place.
The third was that Tom had contradicted himself, saying there was no reason to
keep him out of any of the rooms he had been in, and then keeping him out of
one of the rooms he had been in.
“If I may ask, why am I not allowed in the first room? If it’s just an empty
hallway…”
Tom quickly found he detested Harry’s curiosity. He longed for the blind
loyalty of his followers to rub off on him. Instead, he found he had two
choices with the same outcome. He could tell Harry what was in the room, and he
would go into it. He could not tell Harry what was in it, and he would still go
in it. He hated that he was put into such a trap, but knew a good distraction
would direct Harry’s focus elsewhere.
“Harry. Not everything is as it seems. There is some knowledge that is better
left unknown, so that the seeker of it may not be harmed by its doing. It is a
room that I have told you not to go into and you must trust…” Tom let the word
have a moment for impact, “…that I have only the best of intentions for you in
keeping you from it.”
Harry felt awful once more. Was Tom losing trust in him? Was Harry not trusting
Tom?
He nodded. He would not go into the hallway room, no matter how much he
questioned it. He could not risk the fragile bridge of trust they had just
begun to build.
He was no longer hungry, even for the delectable plate of food before him. He
pushed the plate away.
“Well,” Harry began, “what shall we do today?”
Tom had finished his breakfast and carefully placed his fork down on his plate.
“Ah, yes. We have another meeting that shall happen later. We shall be in a
different meeting room this time. It is more private, as only my inner circle
will be in attendance. There will be plans to discuss, as well as my
current…predicament. You will need to wear the black cloak once more and shield
your face. Even if most will know your identity, I cannot have them all know,
especially Bellatrix. My, how she wishes to kill you…”
Harry’s breath hitched. Well, that’s comforting.
“Alright, then. I guess I’ll be in my room, or possibly that sitting room,
until it’s time.”
Harry stood from the table and left, deciding that maybe he needed another
butterbeer before he went to this meeting. Or maybe something stronger.
***** Hidden and Revealed *****
Severus_Snape's_POV:
As I assumed, my life hiding in the mundanity of the muggle world was bleak. Of
course, my life had always been dull, but never so dull as it was now with my
muggle job, no magic, and no one for company. I had not received any word from
Potter. I figured he was busy convincing My Lord to join the Light or possibly
even helping him deal with his painful memories.
I had just returned from my muggle job as a librarian at the public library. I
did rather enjoy being around books all day, but there was something missing
from within their pages. At times, I found myself about to toss a book to the
floor, expecting it to stop before it hit the ground and raise back up to its
spot on the shelf. There was a magic to books that made them unique, and while
these muggle books may have had some, it was meant figuratively, not literally.
I longed for the thick parchment of a potions book, a book on magical
creatures, or even a History of Magic book. There was something about the feel
of it when opened, like finding a portal into a different dimension, that made
wizard books differ from muggle ones.
I sighed and sat down upon my makeshift couch, that was once a piece of wood
left in the fireplace when I had moved in, and so it was an earthy brown color,
and very uncomfortable in certain spots. I was never the best at
transfiguration, but it would have to do. I was rather unsatisfied about my day
at work. The next book in a popular series had just been released, and so I was
not able to perform my normal duties, instead spending nearly the entire day
checking out every copy and making a waiting list for when they were returned.
There were at least ten people on each waiting list for the six books we owned.
I went over to my bed that I had transfigured from a feather of my owl, so it
at least was soft. I couldn't help but to just fall onto it, for I was
exhausted. My face hit the soft feather pillow, and I immediately found sleep.
I awoke some time later. Looking to my muggle clock, I saw it was 3 in the
morning. I sighed and got up to get some water. I pulled out a cup from my
cabinet, then a scratching came from my meager window next to the couch. I
approached it with caution and opened the window slightly. An owl placed its
beak in the small opening. It was a normal owl's beak, nothing like the hybrid
owls My Lord keeps. I let the owl inside and it flew to the arm of the couch. I
removed the note from its leg, reading it to myself.
Dear Professor Snape,
We need you to explain what has happened with Harry. Luna was captured by Death
Eaters, as you may have heard, and Harry traded with the Dark Lord, himself in
Luna's place. But instead of saying he needed help, he said you were the one
who needed help, and said you would explain what is going on, and why Harry
can't leave. We have been trying to find you, but haven't the slightest clue
where you are. If you are hiding, we will respect that, but we really would
like to know about Harry.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
Of course, Potter would leave me to explain everything to them.I rolled my
eyes.
I summoned some parchment and a quill with ink. It was safe to reply. I had so
many wards up around this place; the owl would never be able to be traced back
here.
To Whom It May Concern,
When Harry traded himself for Luna, it was a trap set by the Dark Lord to force
Harry to become his ally. Of course, Harry did not need any forcing. I knew
that Harry and the Dark Lord had a mental connection, as did both of them, as
well as a similar past. I feared that the Dark Lord's complete denial of his
past would leave Harry hurt. I found that it would be best if forced to
remember it, and so I gave the Dark Lord a potion to rebind his soul into one
piece once more, minus Harry's piece of course. Currently, Harry is helping the
Dark Lord with that, and I am in hiding to avoid his wrath. Harry is fine, as
he said, and the Dark Lord has no intention of harming him in any way. He must
do this, for it may be the only way to bring Voldemort into the Light. And
please, make sure this news does not make it to the Daily Prophet.
Sincerely,
Severus Snape
Headmaster at Hogwarts
P.S. I may need to resign as headmaster, for I am more than sure I would be in
danger even there.
I tied the note to the owl, and sent it on its way. I went back to my bed and
fell asleep once more, dreading the day to come.
I woke up to my muggle alarm going off. The irritating beep left me in a foul
mood. I got ready and left to my job. As soon as I arrived at the library, I
noticed almost all of our copies of the newest book of that one popular series
had been returned in our return box outside the door overnight, even if they
had just been checked out late yesterday. I called the numbers of those on the
waiting list to get their books to check out. They, of course, arrived within
minutes and left in a crazy, chaotic mess.
I will never understand muggles. I sighed.
I had just reorganized the books on the kids’ section, which would probably be
a mess again in a few minutes, when a yell rang out from the back room. I went
to see what was going on. One of my co-workers was ducked under a table as an
owl flew overhead. The one I saw last night, no doubt. I helped up my co-worker
and told her I would take care of the owl. She left the room, and I held out my
arm. The owl landed on it, another message tied to its foot. I pulled it off
and read it.
Dear Severus,
Thank you for that explanation. It was very helpful to us. We will not
interfere with Harry and the Dark Lord, but I and the rest of the Order believe
it would be best if you would not resign as Headmaster. We will assure you will
be more than safe at Hogwarts. Please consider.
Sincerely,
Remus Lupin
I sighed once more. Should I leave? I do not think it would be wise, but I
could not just leave my post as headmaster, no matter what threats I face. I
summoned quill and ink and wrote my reply on the back.
To Whom It May Concern,
I suppose I shall return as headmaster. The threat of my death, however, will
be greater, of course, and therefore a backup headmaster should be quickly
decided. I will go to Hogwarts as soon as I am able to part from my spot of
hiding.
Sincerely,
Severus Snape
Headmaster at Hogwarts
I tied it to the owl, let it go, and went to go quit my job.
===============================================================================
 Harry's_POV:
The meeting was in 5 minutes, and I couldn't remember my fake name. I was
freaking out. Tom was busy preparing the room, with silencing charms and
protective wards. I desperately wanted to ask him what it was, but not wanting
to disrupt him, I just stood awkwardly by the table, wracking my brain for an
answer. It was something with an A...I think. Maybe it was a P. I really can't
remember. I lifted my hand and hit my forehead with my palm. I was hopeless.
Tom noticed my frustration. 'What is wrong, Harry? I've already assured you
this meeting will be much easier than the last.' he said in my mind.
I can't remember my fake name. What is it?
‘A ureum S erpens.’
Oh. Ok. I relaxed a bit. I knew what to answer to now. How did you come up with
that anyway?
‘What do you mean?’
Well, did you see that name somewhere or something? Or did you think of it?
‘I came up with it on my own. It means “golden snake” in Latin.’
Oh.I smiled.Cool. I bet it sounds better in Parseltongue, though.
/Aureum Sserpensssss/ Tom hissed. It did, in fact, sound better in
Parseltongue. The way he said it made a shiver run down my spine and a large,
goofy smile to my lips. I looked to where he was standing, but he wasn’t there.
I looked from side to side then turned around. My nose was merely inches from
Tom’s. He was looking down at me with a small smile on his face.
“Much better.” He said quietly. He was so close, I almost didn’t breathe. I
could feel our warmth gathering together, blocking out the cold of the room. My
heart sped up, and I really hoped he couldn’t tell how flustered I was. I was
sure there was a blush to my cheeks.
“Uh… y-yea…” I swallowed. I didn’t dare think anything for fear he was still
inside my head.
“Hmhmhm” he chuckled darkly, “So very articulate, are we?”
He stepped back and over to his chair at the table, identical to the one in the
spacious room, and so I followed him. My chair, sadly, wasn’t as comfortable as
the other one I usually used. I crinkled my nose and tried to find a
comfortable spot, but gave up after finding none. Aw.
‘What’s wrong now?’
I almost jumped. Oh, uh. Nothing. Nothing… Tom didn’t look satisfied with my
answer, and I could feel him poking around in my mind. I’m fine, Tom. Really. I
was just being childish.
He rolled his eyes and looked to one of the Death Eaters that had arrived.
Thankfully, it was only the Malfoys; we hadn’t put up our hoods yet. Lucius,
Draco, and Narcissa greeted Tom and sat down at the table. This table was a
round table, so I couldn’t really avoid looking straight at Draco, who was
pretending to faint. I rolled my eyes and put up my hood. He hadn’t changed one
bit from school.
The rest of the Death Eaters arrived and all sat around the table. I noticed
one seat was empty. Some others had noticed as well, judging by how they looked
and whispered to the people next to them. We all were wondering who’s it was,
and just as I realized the answer, Tom spoke up.
“My dear Death Eaters. These have been times of great trouble and conflict, and
we have had yet another change of plans. A large change of plans. Severus shall
not be joining us today, for he has betrayed me beyond ways I thought
possible.” He paused for a moment, letting the tension in the room rise.
“Severus has used a very rare potion on me. One that brought my soul’s pieces
back together, even those that had once died. I have, however, found that the
one that was within Harry Potter is still within him. Most likely to keep me
from killing him.” The whole room was shocked, even Lucius showed it.
“My Lord, what shall we do?” said someone, “If you can be killed, there is no
way to keep our plans for-”
“Yes. I fully realize this, Mulciber. That is why there must be a change of
plans. We can no longer…” Tom paused. ‘I hadn’t meant for you to know this, but
I suppose you would have found out anyway,’ he said in my head before
continuing “…invade Hogwarts. There are many risks now that we must be aware
of.”
My heart stopped, and a warm flush came over my neck and ears. YOU WERE GOING
TO INVADE HOGWARTS?!
“My Lord, since it is such a danger for you to go into battle, why not just
send us in? We will make sure to get every single member of the Order, and I
can personally handle Potter-”
“Bellatrix! Enough! I am not sending you into Hogwarts.”
Seeing the eagerness of Bellatrix wanting to kill me dulled my anger. She
reallydoeswant to kill me…
I was so shocked from everything. They were going to invade Hogwarts? The
thought blew my mind. Hogwarts was the safest place I knew of, not to mention
filled with kids. How did they expect to carry that out?
‘Indeed she does.’
Draco spoke up. “My Lord, I fail to why we cannot go and attack Hogwarts.”
“Because, Draco, we can’t risk it now,” I spoke up suddenly. “I’m sure the
Order knows of his weakness, and would stop at nothing to kill The Dark Lord.
As long as he lives, others cower in fear, but if he was dead, all who weren’t
in the war would join the Light. I’m sure you could understand that.” I knew he
could only just see my mouth, and so I sneered at Draco, challenging him to
reply.
“Well, of course, the Dark Lord would not be attending the battle. How could
they possibly get him if he wasn’t there? It’s really an obvious solution,
Potter.”
The room froze at the mention of my name. Draco, YOU MORON!
“Young Draco,” Tom started, deathly calm, “I have no idea wh-”
Bellatrix stood and flicked her hand which held a wand. My hood flew back. I
tried to put it back on, but it was too late. Everyone had seen me. Bellatrix’s
eyes widened, as did some others. Bellatrix pointed her wand at me, ready to
shoot something—probably the killing curse—at me. I could only stare with wide
eyes, honestly expecting death.
‘Crucio’ I heard Tom thunder in his mind. I watched at Bellatrix hit the floor,
writhing in pain. It was hard to watch, even if I had once used the same curse
on her fifth year. “How dare you,” he spoke through his teeth.
I wasn’t surprised. Sure, I might have felt surprised, but compared to the
reactions of the other Death Eaters who hadn’t been aware I was now an ally and
not the enemy, I wasn’t surprised in the least. As they saw it, their enemy had
been listening in on their plans, then when I was revealed, the Dark Lord was
punishing someone else. I’m sure they were just about as shocked as Hermione
and the Order will be when they find out.
Tom released his curse upon Bellatrix, and she lay limp on the floor, her
breathing uneven. The others looked back to me. I gave a half smiled and a
small wave. If I could guess how many out of the 23 people in this room did not
know about me before, I would guess about 12. Exactly half of Tom’s inner
circle had known about me (including Snape). They then looked to Tom.
“My Lord?”
Tom stood, giving the illusion that he was looking down upon everyone, and it
made the whole situation more frightening. It struck me, suddenly, that this
wasn’t Tom, but Voldemort.
“I will say this once and once only,” he hissed. “Harry has become our ally. He
will be the key to our success. If you are so foolish as to even attempt to
harm him in anyway, you will be severelypunished.” His red eyes were filled
with anger beyond belief as he looked to the faces of those who had not known.
Bellatrix was still on the floor, and no one bothered to see how she was—I was
alright with that. Tom sat back down in his chair, his face softening only
slightly. “And now, we will find another plan.”
“I would really appreciate it if Hogwarts was not involved at all,” I said
quietly.
Draco scoffed. “Why? I was sure by now that you would give anything to destroy
it, seeing as how it is pretty much the reason you were on the wrong side in
the first place. Or would you miss your pathetic little friends?” he said
mockingly.
“Actually, Draco,” I spat, anger returning full force, “I would hate for it to
be destroyed because it was the reason I was able to get away from my crappy
life. But I’m sure you would have no idea what that is like, being a spoiled
brat, and all.” The room seemed to disappear around us.
“Look, Potter. Just because you lived with muggles all of your life and I was
living the wealthy life of a pure-blood doesn’t mean tha-”
“Enough.” The voice had startled me. It had been like I was back at school,
Hermione and Ron behind me, Crab and Goyle behind Draco, insulting each other
like there was no tomorrow. “You both are acting like children.” I looked to
Tom, and scarlet eyes met mine. “Harry. Draco. You both are dismissed. I no
longer wish for you to sit in on this meeting.”
What?! You can’t do that!
‘Watch me,’ he whispered dangerously.
He flicked his hand and both of our chairs flew out the now open door into the
hallway. The doors shut and locked. I could feel the blood surge, heated, in my
body. I walked over to the door and tried to open it, but the knob wouldn’t
move an inch. My fist flew against it, not making any noise at all, only
leaving my knuckles red and in pain. I continued punching, even if it was no
use. You can’t do this! I’m supposed to be in there! You can’t do this… I put
my forehead against the door. This is useless.
“All done with your tantrum now?”
I turned to face him. “Shut up Malfoy! You are the reason we are out here
instead of in there!” I pointed to the door. “Just keep your big mouth shut!”
“Look, Potter. This is just as much your fault as it is mine! Don’t go blaming
everything on me!”
I pulled out my wand. “Silencio!” I shot at Draco. His lips pressed together
and didn’t open, though you could tell he was trying. “Now calm down. There’s
no way we are going to find out what’s going on afterwards if we don’t.” I sat
down on the floor, awaiting the door to open.
***** Lovely *****
Lord_Voldemort's_POV:
Step by step, I made my way to were Bellatrix still lay, limp on the floor. She
was fine, of course, but for some reason—likely fear—she felt she should not
stand back again and take her seat.
I hit her with one more Cruciatus curse to make sure the lesson had sunk in.
She wanted to scream, but her lungs could not seem to gather the air to. She
did nothing but wheeze and grab at her neck with her claw-like nails.
When I released, she was shaking, eyes large and red. I bent down beside her.
"Now leave my sight," I spat.
The meeting had just ended. It had been less productive than I would have liked
considering we needed Harry's input in some places. However, I did not let him
back in. I could understand that Harry and Draco disliked each other, but that
did not call for mindless insults in the middle of a meeting. It was thoroughly
childish.
Of course, Lucius and Narcissa stayed behind to collect their son, and after I
saw Bellatrix had apparated away, I opened the door, expecting to find them
arguing once more. To my surprise, they were sitting, cross-legged and quiet,
on the floor, although Draco was giving Harry an angry glare. They looked up at
us as we exited, but made no move to get up from their positions.
"Dragon," Narcissa said softly, her head just peaking out from behind me, "we
are to leave now."
Draco huffed through his nose and looked to Harry, who rolled his eyes and
said, "Sorry, Draco, but I can't seem to reach my wand. I guess that's
because someone binded my hands."
Draco half smiled, but said nothing. Harry huffed.
"What is going on?" Lucius pulled Narcissa back and stepped out into the
hallway.
"Well, is it not obvious?" I glanced between the two, shaking my head. "The
boys have binded each other. Draco is silenced. They have been stuck and cannot
get out." I sighed. "You both are extraordinarily childish." I waved my hand
and they were released.
"Well maybe if someone hadn't silenced me, I wouldn't have bound his legs to
each other."
"Well maybe if you hadn't been such a prat and revealed who I was, I wouldn't
have silenced you!"
Well maybe if you hadn't been so irritating, I would have been quiet!"
"Draco, that is enough," Lucius spoke up, though his tone was neither harsh,
nor demanding. "Come now. We are leaving."
Draco did not speak another word, but left with face still red from his anger.
Harry was in no better state. Still, I was beginning to find it rather
entertaining to watch Harry when he was angry. His face would grow a red-purple
tint to it, his fists were clenched so hard, they turned his knuckles white.
His usually calm, soothing eyes filled with fury and hatred. It was a good look
on him. And I intended to keep him that way for as long as I could manage.
With a small shake of his head, Harry attempted to calm himself. "What happened
at the meeting?"
I broke eye contact, looking down the hallway instead. "For now, it is none of
your concern."
I could almost hear the waves of rage that flowed off him.
"None of my concern? It's all of my concern! I don't want you to attack
Hogwarts! I don't want you to attack anything! Tell me what happened!"
Looking back to him, I angled my head down. "I find you are rather unfit to
accept that information."
He stood then, as if trying to meet my height so I would not look down at him.
"Unfit? How in the bloody fucking hell am I unfit? I am in this just as much
as…"
I tuned out as he rambled on and on, yelling as loud as he could. After a few
minutes of watching Harry—the crease that formed between his brows, the
twitches in his mouth, the tenseness of his jaw—his voice grew hoarse. Harry
stopped his talking, then, and it grew quiet. Only the thumps of Harry's fist
against the walls quickly filled it.
"Harry, stop that."
He stopped, but left his fist against the wall.
"Now," I walked up behind him until I was close enough to hear his heart pound
in his chest (which was actually not as close as one would think). "You will
stop acting like a toddler and eat lunch."
"But I don't want lunch," he answered, voice scratchy and deep.
"You must eat. Just like you must sleep."
'I don't have to do either if I don't want to.'
I sighed. As much as I hated to admit it, I had grown attached to Harry. I had
never been around him so much before, and now that I had, I felt as though life
would be so much different without him. Knowing that he wasn't the person I
couldn't kill, but the person I didn't want to kill. Somehow, in a world full
of unworthy people, Harry was passionate, trusting, and loyal. It was such a
change from the cold, paranoid life I had lived before. Harry brought so much
life. And below the surface, Harry was like Tom, so much it was almost to the
point of being identical. I would never tell him this, of course, or anyone
else. I would not reveal a weakness if I could keep it hidden.
"Come. You are going to eat." I turned and walked away to the dining room,
knowing he would follow.
===============================================================================
 We ate silently, even in our minds. Harry did not eat but a few bites of his
lunch, which concerned me. How could he manage to deprive himself of such
necessary things like food and sleep? Without magic. The concept was beyond me.
And yet, the more I thought about it, the more I saw the potential in Harry. If
he was strong now, lacking food and sleep, I could only imagine his strength at
his peak. I was certain he had some plan to "turn me to the Light," but that
was only if I do not find a way to bring him to my side first.
"Harry, what would you say about receiving lessons?"
'Lessons?' he grumbled in my mind. 'What kind of lessons?'
"Lessons in advanced magic. It would be best for you to learn spells that you
would never learn at Hogwarts."
'Uh, sure. Alright then.' He pushed away his plate.
"But you must eat, Harry."
He folded his arms. 'I tried, but I'm not hungry.'
I had finished with my plate at that point. Triven popped in and took both our
plates away. I simply sighed and stood, motioning Harry to follow.
I decided to use a room in the same hall as my room; It was large enough and
had many, meaningless little knick-nacks to practice on, as well as a few rats
in cages to feed to Nagini that would also be useful for cursing.
I stepped inside, moving the useless tables and rugs that were in the middle of
the room. Once the center of the floor was cleared, I turned to Harry.
"Now, where shall we start?"
Harry's eyebrows rose. "Wait. You're teaching me?" he said, voice so scratchy
it was barely audible. He cleared his throat.
"Who were you expecting?"
"I don't know," he responded, voice a bit clearer. "I guess I wasn't really
expecting anyone…"
We were silent a moment as Harry's sentence trailed off to nowhere. He offered
no further explanation, so I took the liberty to continue.
"Back to the lesson."
I held up my hand and a book flew into it. Truly, it was one of my favorite
books on curses. There were so many things in it that the wizarding world
seemed to have forgotten. I searched for a simple one to start with.
"Ah, here we are…the Gelucrous curse. One of my favorites."
I walked over to the large cage of rats that sat in the far corner of the room
and picked a rat out. It writhed and squeaked madly in my hand, but when I
placed it on the floor, it dared not run away. I pulled out my wand and pointed
it at the rat.
"Gelo cruore."
The rat was hit. At first, it seemed that nothing had happened, but then, the
rat began to move. With each movement came a loud squeak or pain, and then more
panicked movements. It began to run around, as if trying to escape. Its light
pink feet grew in size and began to turn deep purple, as did its tail. After a
couple moments, it's skin grew blotchy as well, and it stopped moving.
When I turned back to Harry, he looked horrified. "What the bloody hell was
that?"
I smirked. "The curse. It causes the blood to become so cold it burns. Since
the blood partially freezes during the curse, large movements, like the rat
running about like it had, break the blood vessels, adding to the extreme pain.
It is truly a torturous curse."
"That's terrible!"
"It's a curse, Harry. You may find yourself in a situation where it may be
necessary to use it. It works on any type of creature, with the exception of
those that have no blood, of course. It doesn't normally kill, but the poor rat
was foolish enough to think running in circles would stop the pain. Terrible
mess."
From behind us, Nagini slithered out of her bed and towards the rat. I watched
Harry visibly jump upon seeing her attack it before eating the dead thing
whole. Of anyone, she would enjoy this lesson most of all.
"Harry, it is vital to know these things. Our work will not be easy. It will be
dangerous, and you will need to assert yourself as the greater wizard."
"What?" Harry's mouth hung open and his brows drew together. He seemed to be
searching for something to say. "What-what kind of work will we be doing? Why
will I need to torture people?"
I sighed, lifting my thumb and middle finger to my forehead to smooth out the
stress in my brows. "Harry. There are many instances where others will try and
attack you. You have joined forces with me, and once others hear of this, they
will think you have betrayed them and seek their revenge. Revenge is the most
violent motivator."
"And the answer is to torture them?" The cracking in Harry's voice revealed
that he was losing it once more. "That would only confirm their suspicions. But
if I didn't fight against them, they would know it was…" Harry put a hand to
his head, his fingers running into his hairline. "I don't know…have I betrayed
them?" The hand ran down his face and fell at his side.
Harry's eyes met mine. All the anger from earlier was gone. Instead, he had
wide eyes and a troubled mouth. This was a Harry that was not enjoyable to see.
I sighed. "It is not that simple, Harry."
What do I want to say on the subject? Should I make him believe he has betrayed
them? Or possibly that they betrayed him? Which would suit my plans more? Does
this suit my plans at all?
I took in a breath and let it out. "Back to the lesson," I stated firmly.
"You will learn these curses. You may not use them, if you so desire, but I
expect you to know and practice them."
He sighed and looked away. 'So in other words, I have betrayed them,' he
thought so loudly I did not even need to visit his mind to hear it.
As I was about to say something in response, I felt a nudge at my shin.
/Masssssster/ Nagini hissed at me.
/What isss it, my pet?/ I bent down and gently pet her head.
/I have lossst my piece of you./ Her tone was shrill and quick; she was
frightened.
/Yesss, I am aware. All isss well, though. I have it./
/Oh. Excellent. I am glad you have it./ I continued to stroke her, feeling the
tenseness in her muscles slowly soften.
After a moment, I stood. "Alright, Harry. Back to the lesson."
===============================================================================
 Harry's_POV:
This whole lesson so far had been shocking, horrible, and odd, but the most odd
and shocking part was watching Tom be so affectionate with his snake. I always
saw Tom as a misunderstood guy who generally kept his distance from living
things he didn't/couldn't control. He seemed to fit that assumption.
Merlin's ass was that assumption wrong.
He really cared for the snake. I not only saw it but sensed it. Judging by the
conversation (surprise, surprise, the snake was a horcrux), it made sense. They
shared the same connection Tom and I shared. I could see how that would make
someone care so much for something. Not to mention, she had been his pet for
some time. I know I cared for Hedwig, mental connection or not…
"Alright, Harry. Back to the lesson."
I closed my eyes and sighed inwardly. I always knew I would learn some bad
spells, but I never imagined I would learn something so horrible, and from the
Dark lord, master of all things dark and evil, of all people. As much as I felt
we were alike at times, I could never bring myself to use something so terrible
on a human being. Maybe a rat. But a person was different…right?
"You try."
I winced. I was dreading those words, and they just flew through the air at me.
Still, I grabbed my wand from my pocket and pointed it at the next rat Tom
pulled out of the large cage. My feet were glued to the floor, legs stiff, and
arm stiffer. I took in a slow, deep breath.
This isn't the proper positioning for spellcasting, Hermione's voice said
inside my head. You'd be lucky if you could cast a simple floating charm like
that.
Relax your legs, Lupin's voice said. I complied. Good. Now terrible spell or
not, you can cast this. Now, this is likely an advanced curse, so confidence
and desire to cast are key.
Your wand seems to be at the ready, Mr. Potter, McGonagall's voice added, but
tell me, do you really cast your spells with your arm that extended? You've
left yourself not room to move your arm.
I took in another breath and relaxed my arm so that it was solid but bent.
These were the voices of my teachers, my friends in my head. I may not be able
to tell them in person, but in my mind, I let them know that I never meant to
betray them, that I would never betray them if I could ever help it.
"Gelo cruore."
The rat was struck with the indigo-colored ray of light that shot from my wand,
and it twisted on the floor. Unlike the last rat, this one didn't run in
circles. Still, after one long, sickening moment, it fell onto its back, it's
chest rising and falling like mad until it stopped, shook, and then laid still.
I caused that. I did that to a living thing.
"Very well done, Harry," Tom said, lightly clapping as if he had just finished
watching a show. "I'm impressed."
"Yeah…sure." My stomach churned.
"Now…" Tom flipped through the book some more.
Whatever that book was, I was certain I would never enjoy it as much as Tom
seemed to.
"Next, I suppose we could try this one." Tom set the book down. "I'm afraid we
won't know if the spell is working right on a rat. We'll need a human test
subject."
What?!
"It doesn't have the potential to kill, does it?" I asked, my still-scratchy
voice higher and more timid than I had intended it to be.
"Not from the spell directly," Tom answered, wand rising in the air to release
something green, "but people are known to kill themselves afterwards."
I was nearly certain I was ready to vomit.
Immediately, Wormtail appeared in the room. "You needed me, Master?"
"Yes," Tom said cooly, his Lord Voldemort demeanor on. "We need a test subject
for Harry's lesson on curses."
The more I stared at the shifty, mousy-haired man before us, the more I saw the
fear in his eyes and the paleness of his face, the more I felt my dread turn to
anger. Did he have the right to be afraid of a curse when he, out of fear,
turned in his best friends to die? Did he have the right to be afraid when he
murdered Cedric Digory before he even had the chance to feel fear? Voldemort
was a villain, yes, and he killed my parents and ordered the death of Cedric,
but at least he had motives. It was logic: kill the things that get in the way.
Not good logic, but logic.
Pettigrew had been friends with them through their years at Hogwarts. He, my
dad, Sirius, and Remus gave each other nicknames, got into trouble, even put
themselves in danger monthly for one another. And yet, this powerful dark
wizard comes around, and instead of doing the right thing—protecting their
hiding spot to his grave, as Sirius and Remus would have—he turned them in.
Betrayal. Cowardice. The worst sins of a Gryffindor.
Something in me knew this would be satisfying, and the rest of me almost felt
guilty for it.
"But-but Master…" Pettigrew pleaded.
"Enough!" Tom looked as irritated as I felt. "It shall be done." Tom's sharp
glare turned to me and softened. "Now, this is a curse that takes over the
mind. Images of the victim's worst fears become their only vision until the
curse is done."
Normally, I would feel guilty about this. Unnecessary violence and torture was
not the answer. That is not what I represent. But here, beside Tom, anger
already buried inside my chest ready to escape, watching Pettigrew snivel and
whimper…it felt as right as it ever would.
Tom's wand was already pointed at Pettigrew. "Horrorem mente."
Pettigrew's eyes went completely white and he cringed. He was mumbling
something to himself, but I couldn't quite hear it. After a moment, he screamed
and fell to the floor as if he had been struck. As he writhed on the ground, I
started to pity him. What was he seeing? I started to think, what if he had a
bad childhood, or something? How did I know he wasn't beaten every day of his
life before Hogwarts and was so scared all the time, so that's why he would-
"Alright, Harry." Tom released the spell and Pettigrew's eyes returned to
normal. "Your turn."
My wand was up and the words were on my lips before Pettigrew could even catch
his breath.
===============================================================================
 Lord_Voldemort's_POV:
I could sense the satisfaction Harry was already feeling; it practically
radiated from him.
"Horrorem mente."
Harry cast the spell, and Pettigrew fell under the curse once more. Instead of
the easy transition into the fear that I had given him (out of pity), Harry's
curse plowed him straight into the horror, it seemed. Pettigrew, already on the
floor, writhed and clawed at the floor, his screams practically choking him.
That was already a pleasant enough sight, but then I turned to look at Harry.
His grassy eyes were cold and piercing. The side of his mouth twitched up, as
if wanting to break into an evil smile, but he would not allow it. His stance
was powerful, controlled. This was his first time casting the spell, but he
seemed to catch on that he controlled the level of power behind it, and he used
that to his advantage.
This was a whole new side of Harry I had never seen. I had told myself earlier
that he was enjoyable to see angry, but now…I found this much more (dare I say)
attractive. Something about the dark side of Harry made my heart pound and my
lungs press for the oxygen they so needed. A different kind of feeling set in,
unlike any other I had felt before, and I was enjoying it.
I was unsure of how long it had been, but Harry lifted the curse. Pettigrew lay
curled up on the floor.
'I rather like this rat,' Harry thought at me.
As do I. Shall we try another curse?
Harry did not respond for a moment, eyes scanning over Pettigrew's quaking,
meager form. 'Yes. We shall. But first, I'd like to try something.'
As Pettigrew sat up at last, irritatingly slow, Harry's hand flew up, wand at
the ready.
"Gelo cruore."
Pettigrew yelled and shut his eyes but dared not move otherwise. He knew this
curse.
That look overcame Harry again for the briefest moment, and I could not help
but smile. Beautiful, I thought.
'Thank you.' Harry's hand fell back down to his side and his piercing eyes
looked down at Pettigrew, daring him to move.
Yes, the spell was brilliant and properly cast, but Harry was the true show.
Filled with all that cold-hearted hatred…breathtaking.
The look was gone, then, and his hand rose up again. "Finite Incantatem."
Pettigrew fell back to the floor on his side, his chest heaving and his mouth
filled with whines and sniveling. My moment of beauty was gone, replaced with
such a revolting thing.
"Well done, Harry. And now," I flipped a few pages in my book, "the next
curse."
***** Inevitable Blood Lust *****
3rd_Person_POV:
Snape had never enjoyed Hogwarts as much as he did now, looking over the empty
Great Hall, and feeling magical once more.
That awful muggle life of mine is thankfully over. I suppose I would live a
life of magic and be killed than to live a life of none and deal with muggles
every single miserable day of my life.
As he said before, he would never understand muggles.
He had returned to Hogwarts with much ease. Now that he had been here, he noted
that he needed to tell Potter where he was without The Dark Lord knowing. He
didn’t want to bring trouble to Hogwarts when it could otherwise be avoided.
Snape had spent the better part of an hour attempting to find a clever solution
before he had finally determined that, of course, he couldn’t be sure what
method he could use to send a message, as he could never know for sure when
Harry was alone or not.
Even if Harry was alone, who is to say that Lord Voldemort would not just
glance into his thoughts? It is pointless to send Harry a message in any manner
and assume that Voldemort will not discover where I am.
He felt defeat for but a moment before he determined that, if he could not keep
himself safe, he should, at the very least, keep Hogwarts safe.
I’ll send Harry an owl now that it is nearing night. At least then I know that
Harry will likely be alone, if not read it first. If I ask him to convince Lord
Voldemort to spare me, I’m sure that Harry would not allow him to harm me.
Possibly…
He decided it was worth the risk, although he was well aware of the amount of
hope and chance that was going into this plan.
Dear Harry, he wrote.
I feel it would help me significantly if you could convince The Dark Lord not
to kill me. I have come out of hiding, and I do not fear death, but I fear the
safety of my current residence. I understand that you may be the only person
who may be able to do this, and if you cannot, I do not believe there is a
person alive who can. I won’t wish you luck.
As a note, if you find you are unable to convince him to spare me, I would
appreciate a warning.
Sincerely,
Severus Snape
Headmaster of Hogwarts
P.S. Feel free to ask for any guidance while I am still alive and not forced
into hiding. I’ve no doubt in my mind that The Dark Lord may have ideas that
would ruin the purpose for my potion.
Snape tied the note to an owl and let it go.
The owl flew out the window and into the beautiful world. It soared above
forest colored with early autumn, its leaves giving in to gravity and covering
the ground in its colors; grasslands where the wind blew through, making a
whistling noise ever so quiet as animals hid underneath, rushing to gather food
for winter; lakes where the fish jumped out, revealing their metallic scales
that would blend in with the sparkling waters beneath them; towns where people
bustled about like tiny worker ants below, each living and concerned with their
own stories; and finally, to hills that seemed to go on forever with grass
greener than anywhere else, leaves scattered about in brighter reds, yellows,
and browns, and in the midst, a large manor that overlooked it all.
The owl flew through the designated owl entrance, into the spacious room, and
down a dimming hallway, landing just before the last door. He tapped on the
door with his beak and scratched a couple times with his foot. No sound came
from the other side, and so he continued to scratch.
Harry had just finished brushing his teeth, taking his time because he dreaded
sleep, when he heard the scratches. He opened the door and an owl hopped
forward, extending its leg to him. He removed the note and read it.
Snape wants me to convince Tom not to kill him… he sighed. Knowing Voldemort,
that won’t be easy. “Accio ink and quill.”
Dear Professor Snape,
I will try my best. You know as well, if not better, as I that it won’t be
easy. Doesn’t matter if I’m Harry Potter or the Queen of England.
Since you mentioned help, and ideas he may have, Tom has started to teach me
curses. Today, we worked most of the day on a few that he enjoys. I was against
it at first. I felt bad for all the rats we were using, and the curses were
pretty brutal. Then, Tom got Pettigrew, and I practiced on him for the rest of
the time. I hate to admit it, but I rather enjoyed it. Is this a problem?
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
Boy-Who-Is-Saving-Your-Life-At-The-Possible-Expense-Of-His-Own
P.S. What’s with the whole “Headmaster at Hogwarts” being underneath your name?
I’m perfectly aware you are headmaster.
Harry smiled as he tied the note up to the owl and sent it on its way.
Yeah…that’ll irritate him for sure.
He enjoyed annoying Snape, but he supposed he really did respect him underneath
it all. It took guts to betray Voldemort in the worst way possible. He may not
have been a fan before, but maybe Snape was starting to grow on him. At least
enough that Harry felt his life was worth begging for.
Harry reached out his mind to Tom. Tom, are you asleep yet?
‘No, Harry. What is wrong?’
Harry’s mind faltered for a moment. Nothing. I was just…wondering. What would
you do if you found Snape?
Harry could vaguely sense the distaste in his mind. ‘I would cast many of the
curses you learned today, possibly some others as well. I would torture him
until he was begging for death, which I would only give him as an act of mercy
and pity.’
Harry’s eyes were wide, and he felt his stomach churn. That’s horrible.
‘That is what traitors deserve, Harry,’ Tom thought back, nonchalant.
‘Disloyalty is the worst form of betrayal. I’m sure you can understand that.
What would you have done to Pettigrew after you found out he had betrayed your
parents?’
For a moment, Harry felt his anger build, but he released it just as quickly.
He did not need it right now. I tortured him. You were there. But I didn’t kill
him. Besides, Snape is different from Pettigrew.
‘Different?’ Harry was sure he could almost hear Tom scoff. ‘How so? They both
are filthy, backstabbing traitors who cannot keep their loyalty straight.’
That’s… Harry couldn’t find a flaw with that statement. Fair, I guess. But
Snape had different things in mind when he betrayed you. He thought of what was
best for you and me in the long run. He had good intentions. Pettigrew was too
cowardly to refuse you, and he knew he was sending his friends to their deaths.
That is worlds of difference.
One story below him and a couple hallways over, Tom sat on the edge of his bed.
While earlier events had gotten rid of the stress that had been building in his
body, he found it was all rushing back now. His head ached, and he rubbed at
his temples. He was far more angered than he had been since being human the
first time, and yet he still considered what Harry said. It was all so
exhausting. Although I see your point, Harry, there must be some type of
punishment to ensure I have no others who betray me. Not only did he defy me,
but he did so in the worst way possible. He cannot get off easy, and the only
consequence I see fitting the punishment is if he dies.
Tom could feel and hear Harry huff in their shared mind. If it wasn’t bad
enough that he had to deal with his own amplified emotions, now he had to feel
Harry’s as well. Twice the exhaustion, twice the stress.
‘Why is killing so easy for you?’ Harry thought at him, frustration behind his
words. ‘I know you have this whole Dark Lord persona, and you strike fear into
the hearts of all, et cetera, but have you ever thought about the person you
were killing? Snape is so much more than a follower who has done something you
wished he hadn’t. He’s an excellent potions master, for one. He actually found
andbreweda potion to rebind your soul. Most others couldn’t even dream of such
a thing existing, let alone make it perfectly. That couldn’t have been easy.
He’s headmaster at Hogwarts. Without a headmaster, what will Hogwarts do? Snape
is as qualified as anyone else for the job. He has a past he isn’t proud of,
but who doesn’t? That’s something webothunderstand. He is more than just some
pawn in some game that you think you control, Tom. He is a wizard, just like
us. A half blood, like you. And he hates his father just as much. If anything,
he should be spared. If you were in his position, and you thought you were
doing what was best for your cause, wouldn’t you want to live? I know I would.’
Passion. Respect. Personal connection. Tom was feeling everything Harry was. It
was astonishing, considering Tom was certain he had left up some mental
barriers earlier so that Harry was not completely in his mind. And yet now,
their two minds were one and Tom was not just hearing but feeling Harry’s
point. Was he actually reconsidering what to do with Severus? He wasn’t sure if
it was because he was feeling Harry’s feelings or because Harry was just that
convincing. He hoped the former.
What do suggest I do, then? I cannot let him off without some punishment.
Without consequences, there is no order, Harry. I must keep order. I have a
regime. I am a dark lord. Nothing runs in chaos. He must have known he was
making a sacrifice, just as he must understand that his punishment will allow
the world to continue to work.
He felt Harry’s eye roll.
‘The world won’t justeruptinto chaos because someone did not die when you said
they should. Sure, you’re a dark lord, but you are not some kind of god. Why do
you get to decide who lives and dies? Besides, Snape is worth forgiveness. He
did thisforyou. He knew your current method would not work. You know what he
said to me? He said that he wanted me to make sure that you accomplish your
goal usingother methods. He knows that at the rate you are going, you’ll either
end up dead at the hand of the other side or dead at the hand of your own
people. If anything, Snape is possibly the most loyal to you and your cause
because he’s done something in an effort to help you. You’re right, he made a
sacrifice, but that sacrifice was betraying you. He knew that you’d never agree
to do it. But he did it anyway because he believes in you and your cause.’
Tom had attempted to put up his mental barrier through Harry’s whole speech,
but found that Harry’s mind was breaking it down faster than he could build it.
He’d thought for his whole life that he had a silver tongue, but here was Harry
convincing him as if he was a child. He was finding it more and more difficult
to refuse to give in, and he hated that Harry could see it. Still, he would
not.
If Severus knew the consequences of his actions and still performed them, he
understands that he sacrificed more than his loyalty. He put his life on the
line, and I will kill him for what he did.
Anger. Incredulousness. Tom wondered if Harry would explode, he was so full of
those emotions.
‘Did you ever think that what Snape did isn’t as bad as you thought?’ Something
shifted in Harry’s mind. ‘Sure, you can die easier. You’ve only got one
horcrux, but that horcrux is me. Do you really think there is anyone alive,
besides myself, who would have the guts to kill me? And Snape did that. He gave
you that potion, and then he ran and gave me another one so that I remained a
horcrux. That was no accident. He planned this. He made you whole again. He
gave you the tools to bring people to your side without using fear. This isn’t
the first time you’ve been betrayed, right? Fear doesn’t keep people on your
side. You know what does? Compassion. Charisma. Actually giving a damn about
the world and the people in it. Look at Dumbledore. People loved Dumbledore,
and they would have done anything for him. That’s real loyalty. And many people
lack the things to get to that level of influence, but Snape knew you could do
it, and he made sure you would. You have a reliable advantage on your side, and
you can’t waste it.’
Tom had been attempting to pull his mind away, and as soon as Harry finished
that last sentence, Tom’s mind pulled away entirely too fast. He was finding
himself convinced. What Harry said made so much logical sense, he didn’t want
to admit that it was Harry who thought those things and not his own mind.
Maybe, he thought to himself,it was my mind after all, but Harry’s use of
it…what a dangerous thing.
‘Harry,’ Tom thought at Harry, his mind still keeping its distance, ‘the
decision has been made. I am not changing my punishment for Severus. Now go to
sleep.’
With that, Harry could feel Tom’s mind close off from his entirely. Harry
huffed.
Tom isso difficult. Why can’t he just get it into his head that Snape is not
the bad guy in all of this?
Most of all, Harry disliked that Tom had abruptly ended the conversation. Had
he even been listening to what Harry had been saying? It didn’t seem so.
Merlin…so set on killing. Who’s being childish now? At least I didn’t run from
the conversation.
Harry let himself fall onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Maybe it isn’t so weird for Tom to leave so suddenly. Maybe I’m the weird one.
I am a Gryffindor, after all. I stand up to what opposes me. I might run
straight into a brick wall if I thought it would help. Harry nearly laughed. I
have run into a brick wall. Dobby closed the train platform…
But Tom isn’t a brick wall. Tom is smoke. All wisps. I’ll never be able to
catch him. Not by running into it. But how does one catch smoke?
He let his mind consider for a long while, secretly thanking the situation for
keeping his mind active and unable to sleep.
By that time, the owl had arrived to Snape with Harry’s reply. Severus read it
and frowned. It was so simple to see what The Dark Lord was doing. He was
trying to turn Harry before Harry turned him. It was like a kind of
metaphorical battle. Light versus Dark, as prophesized all those years ago, but
instead of killing one another, they would kill the very essence of one
another, for neither could truly be on the other side without undergoing a
massive change. They would no longer have the traits that so defined them.
He summoned some parchment, ink, and a quill.
Harry,
As it seems, My Lord is trying to “change” you to his side before you bring him
to yours. I am thrilled you both have bonded over torturing Pettigrew. Yes, I’m
sure that will help you in your task.
Be mindful, Harry. The Dark lord is clever, and he may influence you to do
things that will take you steps backwards. Use caution. Do not do anything you
feel is wrong. And do try and make The Dark Lord do something he considered
useless. Make him see.
Sincerely,
Severus Snape
Headmaster at Hogwarts
P.S. It is a title I rightfully own. I am aware you know of it. I may sign my
name as I please, as you have done.
Severus sent the owl back, considering how irritating Potter was. Just like his
father.
===============================================================================
Harry’s_POV:
Snape’s letter had arrived a little while ago, and it made sense. I didn’t have
anything to say back yet, so I sent the owl on its way.
I needed a plan. Everything I was hit with fussed about in my mind, demanding a
solution. I needed something to organize my thought. I needed a list.
I’m not too fond of lists, but they come in handy, I guess.
Problems that need solving:
#1: I needed to convert Tom to The Light before he converted me to The Dark
For the most part, this problem grew more confusing the more I thought about
it. It used to be obvious who was on what side, but since arriving at Tom’s
manor, it was becoming more difficult to figure out. Still, I knew that I liked
Tom and not Voldemort, and that Tom liked Voldemort and not Tom. I needed a way
to get rid of Voldemort and make Tom never want him back.
But how is that possible? Dumbledore showed me that neglect, loneliness, and
anger created Voldemort. So…maybe their opposites will get rid of him?
Happiness, friendship, and understanding…those are what have kept me alive this
whole time. Okay, so he tried to convert me using a lesson on curses and the
man who betrayed my parents. And I need to show him…happiness…so a spell lesson
on happiness?
After a moment, it hit me. I nodded to myself.
#1: 1/3 solved! 2/3rds to go.
#2: Tom won’t spare Snape’s life.
This made me absolutely frustrated. Yeah, maybe I didn’t originally like Snape
so much when I came to Hogwarts, or every time he humiliated me, Ron, and/or
Hermione in potions class, or when he insulted my dad, but Snape seemed like a
good person. He sacrificed himself for this plan to help out Tom, which shows
dedication, if nothing else. And he was desperate enough to ask me to ask Tom
to spare him, which meant something. I would have never expected that.
But how the bloody fuck to I convince Tom? I used all the arguments I had, and
even some I didn’t know I had…
#2: Work in progress
#3: Snape said torturing Pettigrew was taking me “steps backward.”
What did that mean? I mean, I know what that meant, but what did that mean? I
shook my head. I was confusing myself.
If I’m steps backward from where I was before, where does that put me? Where
was I before? I’m allies with Tom, but does that mean I’m no long on The Light?
What even defined The Light?
I sighed. Did I really care? I knew I wouldn’t let Tom “change” me to The Dark.
I didn’t like torturing people. Just Pettigrew.
#3: Don’t give a rat’s ass (no pun intended)
#4: Tom wouldn’t tell me what happened in the meeting.
This was not a good sign, especially considering they had originally planned to
attack Hogwarts. Even so, a part of me knew Tom wouldn’t attack Hogwarts if I
said not to.
So if that’s one part of me, what does the other part think? That Tom will just
go on and destroy Hogwarts anyway? Kill all my friends and teachers while I
watch? That’s not Tom.
I was being paranoid. There was no way Hogwarts was still on the agenda.
#4: Solution: Take some calming draught. Stop being so paranoid. Trust Tom.
That seemed to be the end of the list, at least at the moment. That was enough.
I pulled out my wand. “Accio Calming Draught.”
Once the bottle fell into the palm of my hand, I drank it without hesitation.
The stress that had been on my mind suddenly fell away, leaving me feeling
loads better, but I still didn’t dare sleep.
I rose from the bed and went out the door into the hallway. After glancing
around at the doors in the dim light, I picked the one with the bar behind it.
Another butterbeer sounds perfect.
Just like before, a butterbeer slide over to my hand just as I sat down. With a
smile, I took it and went to the sitting room to look out at the enchanted
hills through the window, getting lost in wishes of standing on them.
***** A Different Kind of War *****
Harry’s_POV:
The morning finally came. I’d spent the whole night in the sitting room,
staring out the window, watching the portraits, and warming myself by the
fireplace; I really liked it. Now, I told myself, it’s time to try and turn
Voldemort into Tom. Probably the craziest bit of transfiguration I’ll ever do.
I went back to my room, showered, and got ready, my mind focusing on everything
that I did as an act of preparing for my mission.
I’ll need to be extra Slytherin like today.
I transfigured my brown shirt into a dark green one, that my eyes seemed to
adjust to match, and dark jeans into black ones. Looking in the mirror, I
realized I matched the whole décor of the house. Who’s to say I won’t blend in?
I sighed and shook my head. Slytherin’s don’t talk like that to themselves.
You look hot,  the Slytherin in me said. You’re hot. You’re prepared. You’ve
got this.
I began combing through my hair, trying to tame it. As I feared but expected,
it never tamed.
No, you’re doing this all wrong,  the Slytherin Me said. Try this.
I ran my fingers through my hair, front to back. The front part stood up, as if
I had styled it like that. I tilted my head to get a sideways glance and found
that I did rather like the style. At least, for my Slytherin-self.
You’re perfect. Now go.
I went into the hallway, which was now nice and bright, over to the familiar
arch, and down the stairs. Tom was, of course, in his chair, almost finished
with his breakfast. I stood beside his chair, too anxious to possibly eat.
“Not eating again, Harry?”
I grinned. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Tom cared about me.
“Nope. Not hungry,” I answered quickly. Test your theory, the Slytherin me
said. “I didn’t sleep either.”
Tom’s red eyes scanned over me, face appearing neutral. Maybe he’s waiting for
me to collapse from lack of sleep and nourishment.
Or maybe he isn’t.
“I’m fine, Tom,” I said, pushing my Slytherin-self back. “Really. I’m used to
this. In fact, if I eat every meal and sleep all night, then you should be
concerned. I’ve never done that in my life.”
Without changing his posture or expression, Tom pushed his plate away. He
wasn’t entirely finished, but who was I to judge?
He always finishes his breakfast. That’s a sign.
I shook my head. “Anyway, I was thinking…you gave me lessons on spells I might
need. I figured maybe I could give you lessons on spells you might need.”
It was then that his expression changed: eyebrows bunched, eyes narrowed, mouth
thinned. “Harry,” he said, tone a bit sharp. “I have been through all of my
school years at Hogwarts and studied numerous books filled with advanced magic
beyond your years. What possible spell could exist that you know that I do
not?”
He said that almost exactly as we rehearsed it.  Oh, my Slytherin-self was
eating this up. I tried to hide it, but my smile burst through.
“You’ll see.”
A house elf popped in and took Tom’s plate away. He stood slowly, his eyes now
not only annoyed, but curious. We both stood for a moment, not moving. I turned
and motioned with my arm for him to lead the way.
Tom’s expression tensed before it relaxed, and he led the way to the training
room he had used the day before.
And Tom was so right. I was a child. I was a child who was about to eat some
candy before dinner and get away with it.
We entered the room and Tom carefully shut the door behind me. “Now, tell me
this spell.”
Instead if talking to Tom, I glanced around, speaking to the room.
“You may have heard of it, but I imagine you have not been able to perform it,”
I said. God, my Gryffindor-self thought, is this what Malfoy feels like all the
time? No wonder he’s such a prat. “I earned to do it my third year at Hogwarts,
but it wasn’t exactly in the course material.”
Tom walked around to where I faced, his annoyance obviously growing. He glared
down at me, just waiting for me to continue speaking, but I didn’t.
“What is it, Potter? I demand to know.”
Oh,  demand! He thinks he’s in charge of this lesson.
I looked Tom right in his eyes: a challenge. “It’s called a Patronus Charm.
It’s a type of defensive spell. I’m sure I don’t need to explain it all to you.
But one thing it is useful for is that it can pass messages. Since everyone has
a different Patronus, you can always ensure who the sender is. Plus, it’s
faster than any owl around.”
Yes,  Slytherin me purred. Now that he’s distracted and not expecting it, get
into his mind.
I gave a mental push, gently, to one small part of his barrier. It was enough
to show just how he felt: irritated, shocked…impressed.
Oh, it’s picture worthy.
Within moments, the barrier was back up, almost as if it had never happened.
Tom seemed none the wiser. Or, at least he didn’t show it.
“Ever cast one?” I smiled, trying to make it genuine, but surely it was cocky.
“No.” Tom broke our gaze, glancing down instead. “I have not,” he said through
his teeth.
“Good. Then let’s get started.” I pulled my wand from my pocket and mentally
patted my Slytherin-self on the back.
You were very helpful. But now, I need to be fully me.
I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. True happiness…the Gryffindor
Common Room, Christmas Day. Ron handed me gifts that I wasn’t expecting. Fudge
and a Weasley sweater. My dad’s invisibility cloak. There’s snow on the ground
outside. We play chess. I feel like part of a family.
“Expecto Patronum.”
A white light came from my wand and took the form of a stag. It stood proudly,
turned to face Tom, and bowed. When it returned back to its full height, it
vanished.
The sight of it brought thoughts of my dad to my mind. I quickly sobered.
“Look, Tom, I know you may not be ready to learn magic from me, but I promise
it’s useful. The only thing is…” I looked at him, noticing his collected mask
was back in place. “…to cast a Patronus Charm, you must think of a memory. The
happiest memory you have. It has to be powerful.”
No reaction from Tom.
“When I cast it, for example, I think of various things. Sometimes, they aren’t
even real. Once, I cast it without thinking of anything consciously, but it
repelled hundreds of dementors. That was when-” Oh right. He forgot about my
dream with Sirius. Does he know anything at all about what happened,
then? “…when I was in my third year. It’s complicated. Anyway. It gets easier.
You try it.”
I watched as Tom pulled out his wand. He seemed to debate some things. After a
moment or two, he got into a ready position. “Expecto Patronum.”
Nothing happened.
“That’s okay,” I said, a feeling of awkwardness settling in. I was teaching a
powerful dark lord how to cast a spell. I’m sure he didn’t feel much happier
about it. “I didn’t cast it my first try, either. What did you think of?”
Tom barely seemed to acknowledge me when he said, “It’s a private memory.”
“Oh. Okay.” I was quiet a moment. “Well, it might not have been powerful
enough. It needs to be happy. Very happy. Try something with more power to it.”
Raising his wand once more, Tom repeated the incantation. “Expecto Patronum.”
Again, nothing happened. Tom hissed a curse.
“It’s alright. You’ll get this. What did you think of that time? If you don’t
mind sharing…”
Tom met my gaze. “Raising to power once more. Having rule over everyone who
ever defied me.”
I cocked my head to one side. “That’s…not exactly happy…” Maybe I have my work
cut out for me… “It has to be a good memory. Have you ever been happy? While
not being evil?”
Tom stood up straighter. “Of course, I have been…happy.” The word sounded weird
in his voice. It didn’t fit. I was beginning to question if he even knew what
it meant.
“When?” I tried to ask casually, but it sounded a bit suspicious and accusing.
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his wand. “Expecto
Patronum.” To his irritation, no white light came from his wand.
“Tom, it’s alright. Neither of us have had lives full of bliss. Really, I had
to make things up my first time. Just think of something that would make you
truly happy, even if it’s made up.”
I was sure Tom hadn’t heard a word I just said.
“Expecto Patronum!” he growled. Still nothing. “Expecto Patronum!”
“Tom, just calm dow-”
His blood-red eyes pierced mine, full of fury. “How can a brat perform such a
simple spell, yet, with decades of experience over you, I cannot?”
I sighed. “I’m going to be honest. I don’t think you know what happiness is.
And if you did, would you be capable of it?”
Tom scoffed, folding his arms. “A dark lord doesn’t need such a pathetic
emotion. This spell is completely useless.”
“It has been endlessly useful for The Order. That’s how they send messages to
each other. It’s fast. They know it’s not an imposter. No one can intervene
with the message. You just…have to get creative with what you think of. What
would make you happy? Don’t cast, just think.”
Tom hissed a few more curses but did as I said. Just as I had, he closed his
eyes and concentrated. The room fell silent. Several minutes went by.
Yep…just me staring at The Dark Lord while he tries to be happy…
“Do you need help?” I asked quietly.
He didn’t reply, but I felt his mind slowly open up. I pushed in, memories
flashing by like lightning. I only just caught glimpses of each one.
None of them seem particularly riveting…
After a moment, they stopped. ‘Nothing useful? Nothing at all?’
I shook my head, but a new idea came to my mind. Maybe I’m a terrible teacher,
but thank Merlin for this mind link.
I thought of my parents. I closed my eyes and they were in a room with me. They
asked me about school and my friends, as if they had seen me just yesterday and
this was casual conversation. They shared a loving glance and told me the story
of how they met. It was such a simple thought, something most probably
overlook, but to experience it would have made me a different person entirely.
Their love and care…I let it fill me entirely. Then, I spread it over the mind
link, too.
“Try it now.”
Tom opened his eyes, and they were different. “Expecto Patronum.”
This time, the words seemed to have meaning to them. Light erupted from his
wand like a shield. After several seconds, it died.
“That was good,” I said, trying my best to encourage.
“I thought it was an animal.” Tom looked to me. “Why is mine not?”
“Well, it takes practice to get an animal at all, let alone a solid one. But
you produced something. Which shows it was your memory that wasn’t strong
enough, not any lack of skill to cast it.”
Tom pulled his mind away, and I followed suit. The further into this lesson we
got, the more I began to realize the depth of Tom’s predicament. Yes, he had
most of his soul back, but he had to borrow my happiness to feel it. He thought
torturing people, getting revenge, and ultimate power would lead to his
happiness, but it didn’t.
I watched Tom try to concentrate, the same cues of irritation on his face as
earlier but not for the same reason.
After a few quiet moments, I sighed. “Tom, can I help again? I want to help you
find your own memories. Surely you have something you can use.”
He opened his eyes to glance at me with warning, but opened his mind.
I dove entirely into Tom’s memories, trying not to linger on any of them for
more than a few seconds for Tom’s privacy. I definitely saw some things I
didn’t want to see—mostly Tom killing people—but I didn’t stop. I came to
yesterday, when he watched me torture Pettigrew.
Merlin, am I  smiling?! I look…evil! It wasn’t to hard to see how Snape thought
I was moving backwards.
At my dismay, Tom chuckled.
“What?” I asked aloud.
Tom raised his wand. “Expecto Patronum.” A small spurt of white light came from
the tip of his wand, stayed for a few seconds, then disappeared.
I stood, mouth agape.
Before I had the chance to form words, Tom pushed me from his mind and blocked
it off. I was certain I agreed with his choice if it involved me and anything
remotely close to that memory.
But then again, do I want Tom to be happy with images of me being evil?
“Expecto Patronum.”
A light erupted from the tip of his wand, like last time, but then morphed into
the head of a basilisk. It was fairly solid, though not completely.
With a mixture of confusion, surprise, and uncertainty, I commented,
“Brilliant.”
I wondered if this plan was going my way at all.
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
This spell had more than frustrated me before, to the point where I
contemplated pulling out my hair. It was not until Harry had shown me what he
thought of that I realized I was completely unequipped to cast this spell. I
nearly quit.
But then Harry would know a spell I could never perform…
I persisted. Then, Harry saw my memory of himself torturing Pettigrew and,
through his horror, I was able to perform it, albeit barely. Slowly, I was
learning the requirements for it.
Then, an idea struck me. It was…unorthodox, to say the least.
Harry…that look in his eyes…that mixture of domination and satisfaction. He’s
walking towards me and stops close. I look into his eyes…they’re cold and deep.
He turns his head to the side, and I feel his breath on my neck, heated and
thick. I close my eyes and become nothing but feelings: his breath, a wall
behind me, a burning in my own lungs because I’m not breathing. I can’t. Then,
teeth on my neck, nibbling and then biting hard. A rush down my spine and
through my body.
“Expecto Patronum.”
A basilisk. An absolutely perfect match.
Of course, the thought was humiliating. Not only did it not make sense to me,
but it involved some kind of domination over me. It was…peculiar, to say the
least. I could never inform Harry that this thought had ever occurred. I was
not even certain of what it meant.
Still, I found pride that I was able to cast the charm without Harry’s help. I
was well aware that it was my own plan turned against me, but from the obvious
confusion on Harry’s face, I was sure he had never expected this. That was a
start.
“Okay…” Harry began, eyes still wide and unsure. “Well, now let’s try to send a
message with it.”
I raised my wand just as there was a scratch at the door. In what I assumed was
a pause to the lesson, Harry walked over to the door and opened it. An owl
hopped in. Harry looked to me and then back to the bird before untying the note
from its foot and read it.
“Who is it from?” I asked. I assumed it would be his friends, but he had told
me he handled that…
Harry’s mouth curled up a bit. “This is perfect, actually.” He smiled fully up
at me. “Let me demonstrate. I am going to tell this person what we are doing
and to reply with their Patronus. You can speak the message aloud or just say
it in your mind. I’ll say it out loud, so you can hear.”
He looked back to the note, skimming over it a bit, before raising his wand.
“Expecto Patronum.” His stag appeared, and he began to talk to it like an old
friend. “Tom and I are practicing Patronus Charms. He wasn’t so successful at
first, but he’s just been able to cast one with no help at all, so…it’s
progress.” He cleared his throat. “His Patronus is a basilisk. Shocking, I
know.” He grinned up at me. “Please send a Patronus back. Although, I have to
admit…” he paused. “Well, let’s just say I have quite some more work to do
about you-know-what.” He flicked his wand out and the stag leaped into the air,
galloped around the room, and finally went through the wall.
“Who is the note from, Harry? You will tell me.”
Harry stood a moment, grinning like an idiot, before his face fell into a
satire of a pompous expression. “I feel you are unfit to handle this
information.”
My eyes narrowed, and my jaw tensed. Insufferable brat…using my own words.
If I hadn’t decided he was the key to my absolute success, I would most
definitely have punished him for what he said. Of course, that was not the
proper decision, given my current situation, where I…depended on him…
Another Patronus entered the room, a compliment to Harry’s own: a doe. It
walked cautiously into the room, then went over to Harry.
“I fear,” a familiar monotone began, “that my voice is entirely recognizable.
And so, I would like to ask for My Lord’s forgiveness. I meant no harm to you,
My Lord, and I hope that you may see that. I am glad to hear that My Lord can
produce a Patronus Charm, and a proper one at that. He does have an animal
quite fit to his…characteristics. Continue your good work, Harry.”
The doe faded. I turned to Harry, anger boiling over, only to find a look on
Harry’s face as though he had seen a ghost. My anger faded almost instantly.
“How long have you been sending letters to Severus?” I asked, not a hint of
accusation or suspicion in my tone.
Harry shook his head slightly. “A day or two. And before you ask, Tom, I don’t
know where he is. He didn’t tell me. He did say he was out of hiding, and
that’s why I was asking you to spare him.” Harry took in a deep breath.
“Expecto Patronum.”
The stag erupted from his wand and galloped away before Harry even said a word.
I turned to him with confusion.
“What did you say?”
Harry stared at the place on the wall the stag has disappeared through.
“Harry!”
He jolted slightly. “Sorry. What?”
“What did you say?”
Harry turned to face me, his face now entirely serious. He did not respond
immediately, but when he did, said, “I told him to let us know when he gets a
Patronus from you. It’s your turn to send a message.”
It was obvious that there was more that he was not sharing, but I did not
press. Instead, I closed my eyes and focused my mind.
My mental barrier is up, so Harry cannot see. Excellent.
I replayed the situation from earlier—Harry’s breath on my neck, the sensation
his bite left on me—and let the feeling from it grow. I could almost feel it in
my veins, flowing alongside my blood.
Yes. I am ready.  “Expecto Patronum.”
My wand tip lit up, expelling bright white light that took the shape of a
basilisk (an infant basilisk? Adult basilisks were much larger).
You are lucky,  I told it, that Harry wishes you to live. otherwise, you would
find yourself at Death’s door, pleading to be let in and be spared of the
horrible tortures I would have inflicted upon you. If I were you, I would
otherwise refrain from anything that would make me change my mind.
I flicked my wand and my ancient snake of light slithered through the wall at
striking speed.
“Did you send a message with it?” Harry asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I did.”
Harry half smiled. “Good, I think. Let’s see if Snape gets it.”
A few moments of silence passed, which was an eternity when waiting.
“What did you say to him?” Harry looked at me, accusation in his tone.
“Some words,” I replied, being as vague as possible.
“What kind of words? Death threat kind of words? Or small talk kind of words?”
Harry folded his arms, sarcasm evident in both his words and body language.
I smiled a bit. Maybe Harry knows me too well. “Can it not be both?”
Harry sighed but said nothing.
After a few more agonizing moments of silence, a doe appeared once more.
“Harry…I’m afraid I cannot answer your question over Patronus. It will have to
wait for another time. You have done well, Harry. I received My Lord’s
message.” The doe turned to me and bowed. “And thank you, My Lord.” With that,
it vanished.
Harry’s brows rose. “He…thanked you? For what? The death threats?”
I almost thought about informing Harry but figured it would require explaining
that he had convinced me to spare Severus’s life, after all. I would not allow
him the satisfaction. Additionally, this seemed to be the perfect time to anger
him again.
“It is none of your concern.”
However, instead of getting angry, Harry just shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll just
ask Snape, then.”
“He wouldn’t dare tell you.”
Harry smirked. “I guess we’ll see, then. Expecto Patronum.” After a few
seconds, his stag was off without Harry another saying another word. “It
wouldn’t matter what you said…unless it was about you sparing his life.”
The brat!  My irritation swarmed like bees. “My mind was sealed. Tell me, how
did you know?”
“I don’t need to read your mind. I’m not stupid. Why else would Snape thank
you, given the circumstances.”
Although Harry was being particularly irritating, I smiled inwardly. If I had
not known better, I would have said that Harry would make a fine Slytherin.
“If you knew, then why send your Patronus to him? Were you uncertain?” I found
my tone more teasing than irritated, which only served to irritate me
more. Damn feelings. I will control them.
Harry scoffed overdramatically, playing along. “Me? Uncertain? Never.” He gave
a breathy chuckle before truly answering. “I didn’t send the Patronus to
Snape.”
All humor in me faded. That is concerning…
“Then who, Harry?”
“Relax. I sent it to my friend Hermione. I’m sure you’ve heard of her. And
before you ask, I only told her that Snape was safe.”
I narrowed my eyes. That could be true…or it could not be.
Harry sighed. “Check my mind. I’m not lying.”
I watched Harry for a moment. How is it that he is anticipating my questions,
my concerns? My mind is shut tightly. Am I that predictable?
I let my body relax, but not my mind. “I trust you,” I said. “Do not make me
regret that decision.”
===============================================================================
3rd Person_POV:
The lesson ended soon after that. Harry admitted he only had that one spell in
mind, and that seemed to translate as a dismissal. They both left the room,
Harry first, then Tom, since he stayed longer to check on Nagini. She was well,
having just finished her lunch, which still struggled in her throat.
Harry went up to his hallway, down to the room with the crystal looking glass.
Sending that message to Hermione reminded him; he needed to see how Ron was
doing.
He hoped he was better, though he didn’t see any reason for him to be. Nothing
had changed.
Show me Ron.
The outside of the Burrow appeared. Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Ginny, Bill, and
Charlie played a makeshift game of Quidditch. By the looks of it, Ron, Fred,
and Bill were on one team with Fred as Chaser, Ron as keeper, and Bill as
seeker. The other team was Percy as keeper, Ginny as seeker, and Charlie as
chaser. Since there were not enough players, George was beater for both teams,
hitting the bludger towards anyone who was unfortunate enough to be within
range. From what Harry could tell, Ron looked better.
He sighed with relief. Hermione probably forced him to eat and snuck sleeping
potions into his food. But at least he’s alright.
Sure, Harry didn’t eat or sleep properly, but that was normal.
Harry watched for a bit, wistfully remembering when he had played along with
the Weasley family. When the scene faded, he decided to go to the sitting room
and look out the window again. He loved how the wind in the grass made the
hills look like they were swaying, and how the leaves took to the air like they
were dancing on a stage.
Rather than sit in a chair, Harry sat on the floor and tried working on his
magical clay. This time, he molded it to a leaf, like the ones outside. He
levitated it into the air, then released it, watching as it fluttered down in
time. He felt that much closer to being outside. He lifted it once more,
letting it fall down again.
It was funny how easy it was to make him happy. Harry was so simple. He wanted
to go outside and watch the leaves free themselves from the trees. He wanted
his friends to be well. He wanted to know little stories, like how his parents
met, or how they fell in love. Simple things that he loved more than anything.
Things I love in this world:
Watching the leaves in autumn
He sighed. There had to be more than that. He thought some more and tried
again.
Things I love in this world:
-Watching the leaves in autumn
-My friends and family (alive or not)
-Magic
-Riding a broom
That was all he came up with. He was disappointed. He hated more things than he
loved.
Of course, he knew that he had just started this list, and the longer he had
it, the longer it would get as he remembered more things (as he had done with
the other list). Still…
Harry looked up to the window, finding instead an otter made of white light.
“Thank you for telling us, Harry,” Hermione’s voice said. “How in the world did
you manage to convince You-Know…Voldemort to spare him? Whatever magic you have
to do that, I would certainly like to learn it.” The otter looked to Harry, and
he could’ve swore it smiled at him. “Snape told us what you were doing, and
even what He was doing. We are all rooting for you, Harry.” It paused. “Snape
is back at Hogwarts as Headmaster. School is going to start in a couple weeks.
Two weeks from tomorrow, actually. I know you promised you would be back at
school by then, but we understand if you need more time. We miss you. Please
keep in touch.”
With that, the otter disappeared.
Harry decided to send another one back. “Expecto Patronum.” His patronus
appeared.
Hermione, call him Tom. And it’s magic, alright. It’s called luck and, as Snape
once told me, it’s always with me. I’m glad Snape is back at Hogwarts, and I
will try my best to be there when school starts. I miss you guys, too. How’s
Ron doing? I hope he’s better, now. I feel bad about that. I will keep in touch
as much as I can. But please, let’s do that through letters.
Harry smiled and flicked his wand, sending his stag off to Hermione.
Nearby, Tom apparated to his study. It was in Harry’s hallway, and he did not
want to chance seeing him. Not after their lesson earlier. And it was precisely
those thoughts that he was attempting to distract himself from.
“Bring me a book on magical creatures.”
A cart rolled over, one random book on it about magical creatures. He picked it
up and flipped to a random page.
 The Lethifold, also known as a Living Shroud, is a carnivorous and highly
dangerous magical creature. Its appearance resembles that of a black cloak
roughly half an inch thick, although it gets thicker if the Lethifold has
recently digested a victim.  It glides along the ground and other surfaces in
an unknown form of locomotion in search of its prey, humans. It attacks its
prey at night, when the target is asleep, and suffocates and digests it in its
bed. The only form of protection against a Lethifold is a Patronus. Other
spells will not work.
Tom slammed the book shut and tossed it as far away from himself as he could
manage. It stopped for before it reached the ground, floating back to its spot
in the library.
“Bring me a book on…magical history!”
The cart rolled back over, one book on it. Tom picked it up and, again, flipped
to a random page.
 Andros the Invincible was an Ancient Greek wizard. He was alleged to be the
only wizard known to have produced a Patronus the size of a giant. He has a
Chocolate Frog card. He was also very skilled at wandless spells, being able to
conjure a Patronus without a wand.
Tom used both hands to close the book and threw it right at the ground. Still,
there was no satisfying thud, as the book stopped before hitting the ground and
floated back up to its spot.
“Change of form! A book on change of form!”
The cart brought another book to him. He was certain this time that he
would not be reminded of the Patronus Charm at all. He opened to a random page.
An Animagus (pl. Animagi) is a witch or wizard who can morph him or herself
into a specific animal at will. It is a learned, rather than hereditary skill,
unlike those of a Metamorphmagus. Only very powerful and skilled wizards are
able to become Animagi. The process of becoming an Animagus is long and
arduous, and has the potential to backfire and cause the transformation to go
horribly wrong. Once the initial training is over, an Animagus can change at
will at any time, with or without a wand. Animagus forms, like the Patronus
Charm, has been said to reflect the personality or feelings of the witch or
wizard.
Tom carefully closed the book and held it shut, as if it would open itself.
Obviously, Fate is telling me something.
Tom hissed a few curses and tossed the book away, so it would put itself away.
He sat in a chair and finally let himself surrender to those thoughts, if not
to understand them, then to enjoy the pleasurable feeling they gave him.
What? That is the first question. What was it? Harry bit my neck , he placed a
hand over his neck. And I found…pleasure in it. What did that mean? It was
entirely…nonsensical. But it made me happy. So I would be…happy…if Harry bit my
neck?
He huffed.
No, no. Not just bite my neck. He had that look in his eyes from when he was
torturing. I enjoyed that…I suppose that could be more than me admiring his
evilness…I will not lie to myself about this; I found it attractive…I haven’t
found anyone attractive since…ever. I never paid attention to appearances. But
Harry’s took me off guard…so…I would be happy…if Harry looked attractive and
bit my neck.
Tom thinned out his lips.
That is…severely odd.
Hours later, Tom rubbed at his temples. He’d been thinking of this all day, and
he wished he could stop, but he would not rest until he made progress. He
needed answers.
He closed his eyes. There was Harry, his neon eyes completely cold and evil. He
was close again; so close, Tom could feel his heartbeat match up with his and
hear them together, as one. Harry wrapped his arms around Tom’s neck, but
instead of biting, buried his face in Tom’s shoulder. Tom looked down, and
Harry’s expression had changed. His eyes were large and fearful and wet.
Harry’s breathing grew distressed, and his heart raced far faster than Tom’s.
Without thinking, Tom placed his arms around Harry’s waist and pulled him
closer, pressing their foreheads together so that his vision was nothing but
bright green. Tom pulled his face away slightly only to press a vicious kiss to
Harry’s quivering lips. Harry tried to pull away, but Tom held him firmly, not
letting him escape. Harry let out a small, barely audible whimper, and tears
slipped down his cheek.
Tom’s eyes flew open, and he raised his wand.
“Expecto Patronum.”
Sure enough, white light came from his wand and morphed into a very solid
basilisk. It slithered around a bit before disappearing.
Tom sighed and sat back down, rubbing at his temples. He felt so odd. His heart
was pounding, and he could feel his crotch throbbing.
I am aroused, yes, and nervous, it seems. What else?! What else?!
“Bring me a book on…emotions!”
The tired cart brought him yet another book. Tom picked it up and flipped to
the table of contents and read all the chapters. fear. Happiness. Caring.
Sadness. Concern. Embarrassment. Anger. Excitement. Anxiety. Paranoia. Grumpy.
Depressed. Love. Lust…That was it. He flipped to that page.
Lust is similar to love, but it lacks the caring nature (see Caring; also
Concerned.). Both feel they need another person in a way they do not feel for
others, but Lust is completely sexual and temporary. Lust is completely normal
to experience, but must be managed accordingly; otherwise you may find yourself
in a mess, of sorts.
Tom laid back in his chair and let go a breath he was not aware he’d been
holding. That explains it perfectly.
He absolutely did not approve of the feeling, but he felt better knowing what
it was.
Still, he had to continue to see Harry, to be around him and interact with him,
after knowing he was having these thoughts. He didn’t imagine he could see
Harry in the same way.
Accio Draught of Peace .
The bottle flew into his hand, and he did not hesitate in drinking it. As his
thoughts cleared, he apparated to his private meeting room, where Lucius was
waiting for him. 
***** A Nightmare to Lose *****
3rd_Person_POV:
Lucius had been waiting for a few days now to talk to Lord Voldemort about
something rather important. He apparated to The Dark Lord’s private meeting
room and awaited him. There wasn’t much to look at in the room, but Lucius
seemed content enough with staring at the plain chairs and table, thinking,
What an ordinary room with such extraordinary purpose.
At last, The Dark Lord seemed to float into the room, like a ghost. He turned
to Lucius, who bowed low.
“Good day, My Lord.”
“What do you need, Lucius?”
Lucius rose from his bow and steeled himself. The Dark Lord seemed to be in a
foul mood, and he hoped he would not take it out on the messenger today.
“I have some important information for you, My Lord. I wished to tell you a few
days ago, when you planned with Draco to get Harry Potter, but the information
is not stale. It may, in fact, be more relevant than ever.”
The Dark Lord sat down at the table, uncomfortable in the hardbacked chair
(which was not nearly as cushioned as his normal chair). Lucius followed suit,
taking the chair across from him, also uncomfortable but decidedly not voicing
so.
“Yes, I recall,” The Dark Lord said. “Please, Lucius, continue.”
Lucius nodded once. “It pertains to the night Dumbledore was murdered. You are
aware that my son did not kill him, but Severus…”
“Yes…” Voldemort’s voice deepened and slowed. “That news came from Severus…not
you…not Draco…”
Lucius shut his eyes and bowed his head a moment. “Yes, well, My Lord…” he
cleared his throat. “I learned that not only had Severus intended to kill
Dumbledore, but Dumbledore himself asked him to do so previously.”
Lucius watched The Dark Lord with fearful eyes and bated breath. For a moment,
he gave no reaction to the news, choosing to consider it and its plausibility.
Upon reaching a conclusion, he finally met Lucius’s gaze.
“There are two possibilities of Severus’s reasoning. The first is that his
loyalty truly laid with Dumbledore, and they knew I would regard the murder as
an act of loyalty towards me. The second is that his loyalty truly laid with
me, and when Dumbledore asked, Severus could not refuse the chance.”
Lucius shifted only slightly in his chair, fully aware that The Dark Lord was
watching him. “Which is it, My Lord? The first, I would assume. He did rid of
your horcruxes.”
For another moment, he considered.
“Lucius,” he said at last, breaking the silence that had held the room. “This
is a careful matter.” His voice grew quieter yet more pronounced. “We cannot
assume. We must know.”
Lucius nodded. “Yes, I agree fully, My Lord. But how will we know? I was sure
Severus was in deep hiding.”
Voldemort gave half a smirk. “He was. Yet now, he has…come out.”
“Where is he, My Lord?” Lucius questioned, hands on the table, torso leaning
in.
Completely ignoring the question, The Dark Lord stood. “Lucius, go and purchase
a bottle or two of Veritaserum. We will need it.”
Without questioning, Lucius nodded, stood, and apparated away, leaving the room
to Voldemort.
‘Harry,’ he thought, his demeanor changing. ‘Do you think you would be able to
bring Severus here, to my manor?’
Upstairs, Harry had created a room full of magical clay leaves, all floating
about the room in an impromptu dance. When he heard Tom’s voice, although soft
and questioning, he jumped. At once, all the leaves vanished into nothing.
‘Uh…’ Harry looked around, a bit disappointed. ‘You’re not trying to kill him,
right?’
Tom unconsciously ran his tongue across the bottoms of his upper teeth, feeling
their sharpness, as he considered how to answer.
‘Not yet. There is still the possibility that things may…change.’
Harry huffed. ‘I’m not bringing him here if you’re going to kill him. You
already said you’d spare h-’
Before Harry could finish his thought, Tom shared the memory of the meeting he
had just had with Lucius. Harry watched, his emotions going crazy.
He could remember that night. He’d had nightmares of that night. Nightmares of
being paralyzed, of falling endlessly to the Earth, of the grave they put him
in. He saw as Snape killed him once, and now he’d watched it a thousand times,
like a rerun. He’d hated Snape then. He didn’t want to forgive him. But
somehow…he had.
And now this? Dumbledore had asked for Snape to kill him? And then with why
Snape had done it, he immediately thought it had to be the first one. There was
no way Snape would've wanted to kill Dumbledore. Harry, of course, understood
what Tom wanted to do. The nature of how both of them would define Snape would
be determined by this one choice.
Harry conjured his Patronus immediately.
Professor, he thought in a hurry, already making his way down to the private
meeting room. I need you to come to the manor. Meet me in the private meeting
room as soon as possible. Tom will be there. Please hurry.
Harry flicked it off and continued on, running down the stairs and down another
hallway. He walked in to Tom and Lucius standing by the table.
“Snape should be on his way. So…what’s the plan?”
“The plan is…” The Dark Lord began, “…that Snape appears, we forcibly
administer Veritaserum, and we have a discussion about his purpose for
murdering Dumbledore. If he offers the first answer, I will kill him on the
spot.”
Harry balled up his fists and set them gently on the table. “No. You can’t do
that. I won’t let you.”
“If he answers the second,” he continued, ignoring Harry’s interjection, “then
I will welcome him back as if he never betrayed me in the first place.”
Keeping his wrists on the table, Harry extended his fingers as far out as they
would go before balling them into fists once more, causing a few of his
knuckles to crack. “Yes…right after curse the living daylight out of him,” he
muttered.
It was then that Snape arrived in the room, unaware that he was entering the
center of a war. It was not the safety of the grey area he was so used to, but
the empty, open field that was No Man’s Land: if one side did not get you, the
other surely would.
“Ah, Severus,” The Dark Lord gave a truly fake smile. “How nice to see you
again.”
Snape looked around the room, from Voldemort to Lucius to Harry. “What is
this?”
The Dark Lord took his seat, and Lucius and Harry followed suit, leaving the
chair at the end empty for Snape.
“Please, Severus,” The Dark Lord motioned to the last chair. “Sit. We will
discuss it.”
With suspicion in his gaze towards Lucius and Voldemort, Snape took the last
seat carefully.
“Petrificous Totalus,” Harry shot at Snape.
Snape, not expecting Harry, did not stop the spell before he was bound.
“I’m sorry, Professor. I know this is the second time I’ve done this, but you
really need to stay put. I know…” he looked to Tom. “We know,” he corrected,
“that you would try to escape.”
“Thank you, Harry.” The Dark Lord stood, pushed Snape’s chair back from the
table a few feet, and slowly made his way over to him while speaking.
“Now, Severus, let me explain. It seems that…you’ve hit a bump in your loyalty
to me…” he turned and gestured to Harry, “To us both. We have some questions…”
he held out a hand, which Lucius hurriedly placed one of the bottles of
Veritaserum into, “…which you will answer truthfully.” He held open his other
hand, and a small glass vial flew into it from Snape’s robes: his emergency
anti-truth serum. Without a second thought, he let it fall from his hand and
smash on the floor with a quiet ring.
Voldemort was standing just before him, Harry and Lucius behind him slightly by
his sides. Without warning, he stepped forward, uncorked the bottle, and forced
it into Snape’s bound mouth. When the bottle was empty, he let that, too, fall
to the ground.  “There we are. Now, we can begin.” He momentarily turned his
back to Snape to walk a few steps away, then stopped.
“It has come to our attention…” he glanced at Harry, then Lucius, before he
turned, his red eyes falling back onto Snape. “…that Dumbledore asked you to
kill him. Now, whether this happened before or after we formed our plan to
murder him, I cannot say, nor do I believe it to be of importance. What we do
find important, however, is why.” With a wave of his hand, the binding spell
was released on Snape’s head and mouth but remained on the rest of his body.
“You have arrived at a crossroads. It is time to pick a side.”
Harry stepped forward, impatience boiling over. “Is it true? He asked you to
kill him?”
“Yes,” Snape said immediately.
“Why? Why did you do it?”
For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Snape fought the potion, though he
knew it to be useless. The others stared at him, watching, waiting. They had
all guessed his answer. For them, it was just the matter of confirmation. For
Snape, it was a matter of his deepest motivations.
“I did it for you, Harry,” he spat out at last. Once the words began, they did
not stop coming. “Dumbledore asked me to kill him, and I jumped at the
opportunity to end his control over you. He had made far too many mistakes,
severely overestimated what you could handle. He thought of you as some
hardened piece in his chess game, but I tried to tell him repeatedly that you
were just a child. Burdening you immediately with such a large task, then
keeping information from you when you most needed it, forcing you to live with
those horrible muggles that treated you worse than Voldemort ever would have.
It was a tyrannical reign of poor choices that lead to your undoing. I know you
trusted him, Harry, but he knew what happened to you when you were eight, and
every day afterwards. But he still kept you there. He still forced you to
return each summer, spouting nonsensical excusesaboutblood linesand protection.
I begged him to remove you, to put you in anyone else’s care, but he would not
listen. He watched you break, but as long as you were alive and would die at
the right time…” Snape shook his head, eyes just barely tearing up, though no
one else noticed. “He asked me to kill him, and I did.”
Snape ceased his answer and the room fell back into deafening silence. The
other three men found themselves in varying degrees of disbelief. His answer
was unexpected and fell into a category they had no idea existed.
Harry was the first to speak.
“Professor…” was all he could manage. His mind was moving at a rapid pace,
trying to form words and speak them, but getting lost in all the questions his
mind seemed to produce. All this time you were protecting me? He controlled me?
He knew what I went through? What happened when I was eight? Were you the only
one who tried to do something?
“Well,” Lucius said quietly, an awkwardness settling over him. This had become
much too personal for his comfort. “I’m going to be honest, My Lord. I’m not
quite sure where this leaves us.”
Tom, unlike Harry, kept pace with the speeding thoughts in his mind. It was
parts of both sides, he realized. Once again, he seemed to find the safe middle
ground that he was not aware of. He couldn’t punish Snape, but he couldn’t
quite trust him as a follower, either. He supposed that, if his motivation was
Harry’s wellbeing, something could be arranged…
“Professor…” Harry tried again, to no avail. As much as he tried, the words
would not move past his throat.
“Yes, Harry, I understand,” Snape said, his unblinking eyes watching Harry
search his mind for answers. “It is…quite a lot to take in. Especially
considering you have convinced yourself that I do not like you.”
At this response, Harry’s mind only filled with more thoughts. Professor, why
didn’t you stop what he did sooner? Why didn’t you sneak me away from that
horrible place? Why did you treat me and my friends badly every chance you got?
If you really cared the whole time…
“My Lord?” Lucius questioned quietly, his concern for The Dark Lord’s lack of
speech growing. He had been entirely lost since the confession. None of it had
made any sense to him. It was as if Snape had not spoken of Dumbledore or Harry
at all. The information surely did not fit in with the definitions he had made
of the two.
Tom thought of what to do. If Snape was not an enemy or a follower, then maybe
he should be an ally, as Harry was. It seemed to sound right, but some changes
would have to be made. For one, he would need to remove Snape’s dark mark. He
couldn’t have him peaking in on business where he no longer belonged. He knew
that Snape knew that the process would hurt, as it had hurt to receive it, but
he was almost certain the idea would be an agreeable one. Snape could still be
helpful to him in situations that benefitted Harry.
Professor…
Harry’s mind slowed to a halt, all thoughts ceasing. He sat back in his chair,
dumbfounded.
“Certainly my confession was not this difficult to believe.” Snape glanced
between Harry and Tom. “Harry. My Lord. Someone speak.”
“Severus,” Tom began at last. “I originally believed your answer would be one
of two choices, and depending on which you decided upon, I would punish you or
reward you.” He paused, his eyes scanning over Snape, sizing him up. “Seeing as
how it was neither, I have come to the conclusion that it neither consequence
is appropriate. Instead, I want your mark removed. You shall become an ally of
mine, and no longer be a follower.”
When Tom finished voicing his thoughts, he became aware of the room around him
once more. Everyone but him, it seemed, was looking at Harry, who just sat in
his chair, eyes glancing far off into nothing.
“As for Harry,” Tom continued, his mind reaching out. Although his body seemed
to be doused in shock, his mind was as blank as he had ever seen it.
‘Harry? Are you alright?’
Breaking from his trance, Harry began to blink, his eyes beginning to water and
widen in shock, as if the news had just hit him again.
As Tom looked to him, he remembered his earlier thought—Harry, eyes wide and
scared, his for the taking—but quickly shunned it as he felt Harry’s mind begin
to move about again.
“He only needs a bit more time to respond,” Tom said. From what he could
gather, Harry’s thoughts were mostly positive. “Perhaps you will receive a
‘Thank You’…maybe a gift basket, or a hug,” Tom joked, although the more he
considered it, the more he would not put it past Harry to give Snape a hug.
“I hope not,” Snape’s monotone complained. “I am not fond of hugs…”
‘Harry?’ Tom thought at Harry once more.
‘Yes,’ Harry thought back at last. ‘I’m…I’m fine. Just a bit…wow. I’m not even
sure of what to say.’
Tom nodded. “Severus,” his glance moved from Harry to Snape, “I’m afraid Harry
is at a loss for words.”
The room was silent another moment before Tom waved his hand, releasing Snape
of his binds at long last.
Snape allowed his body to relax, but found the lack of comfort in the chair
inhibited his doing so.
“My Lord,” the Veritaserum within Snape said, “I know this may be severely off
subject, but these chairs are horribly uncomfortable.”
Lucius nodded in agreement.
“Yes…they are rather stiff…” Tom turned to the chairs. “I was considering
changing them, but I felt it would distract. But now that we are trying to get
away from the situation…”
With a wave of his hand, the chairs transfigured into large, comfy chairs, all
identical in style but in different colors. One was dark green, one black,
Snape’s was grey, and Harry’s was bright gold. Tom and Lucius each sat, Tom in
the black chair and Lucius in the green one, and Snape brought his back towards
the table.
Yet again, they were silent. Harry was less tongue-tied, and his mind worked,
but he still said nothing. Suddenly, nothing felt worth being said. After that
massive confession, would anything Harry said match up?
Tom continued to watch Harry, curious about his mind, his feelings, and most of
all, his own feelings. The Harry in his intrusive thoughts was vulnerable and
innocent, so able to be dominated. But the Harry he knew, the one that sat
before him, had proved he was everything but. He was stubborn and willing to
fight, no matter the cost. He held so much power, though he never used it, at
least not on purpose. Tom knew this, and yet there was still a part of him that
wanted to believe he could control Harry. It wanted to have the Savior at his
mercy, to watch him break, to serve as a symbol of a lost cause, to push him up
against a wall and…
Tom’s groin grew uncomfortably warm, as did his ears and neck. He looked away
from Harry.
“If that is all you needed, My Lord…” Snape broke the silence unapologetically
and stood. “May I be on my way?”
Tom’s almost unnoticeable blush quickly drained. “Of course. I expect you here
tomorrow afternoon to remove your mark.”
Snape bowed. “Yes, My Lord.” With that, he pulled out his wand and
disapparated.
Taking the cue, Lucius also stood. “May I also leave, My Lord? Or shall I
stay?”
Tom waved a hand in dismissal. “You may leave if you wish.”
Lucius nodded and bowed. “Thank you, My Lord.” He disapperated.
‘And then there were two,’ Harry thought.
Tom nodded slightly to acknowledge that he had heard, but said nothing in
response.
They spent a moment just sitting, brewing in their own minds, before Harry
stood and walked to the door. When he opened it, he found the lights in the
hallway to be dimming. He was about to contest the amount of time that had
passed, but thinking back, it had felt like it could have been days, trapped in
all of his thoughts, then the silence. Really, it shouldn’t have surprised him
at all, he concluded.
“It’s getting late. I’m going to bed.”
Tom’s brows rose. “Oh? Are you going to sleep tonight?”
Harry shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.” Harry stepped through the doorway, leaving it
open, a hint for Tom to do the same.
===============================================================================
Harry’s_POV:
I was in Dumbledore’s office, but there was an odd red light to it. The shelves
of knickknacks all whirled and moved slowly but purposefully, as if a sarcastic
shadow of their normal selves. Behind his desk, Dumbledore sat, not paying
Harry’s presence any attention.
The door behind Harry burst open and he turned to find Snape hurrying in, his
black eyes enraged and his face a light shade of pink.
“Albus!” he yelled. “You must remove Harry from muggle care immediately! I will
not let you be so foolishwith him any longer!”
Harry had seen him angry, but never this emotional. He was used to the cold,
precise anger of the Potions Master persona he had always kept. And yet, here
he was, spit flying, hands moving about, voice full of feeling.
“I know what I am doing, Severus,” Dumbledore replied, not bothering to look up
from the papers he was attending to. “I am aware that he may be suffering, but
it is crucial the boy stays alive. His blood relatives are the only ones who
can ensure that.”
Snape shook his head and blinked rapidly a few times. “You are only keeping him
alive so that he may die at the right time. He will not make it to that time,
Albus! He is at a breaking point. They are causing him harm beyond-”
“Enough!” Dumbledore finally looked up, his face cold and hard like a statue.
The knickknacks around them ceased their movements. “Harry will remain with his
aunt and uncle. That is my final thought on the matter.” Flames began to grow
around him, on the banisters, the edge of the shelves, the peripheral of the
floor. “He will stay there…no matter what terrible things happen to him. He
will stay.”
Snape fell to his knees before him. “Albus…please...”
Dumbledore stood, pulling out his wand and sending a bright green light across
the room. Snape fell to the ground, unmoving. I tried to run to him, but I was
stuck to the floor where I stood. Dumbledore looked to me, his icy eyes
twinkling not with charm, but mischief.
“Harry, my boy…” He shook his head slowly. “It seems you’ve gotten off track. I
gave you things to accomplish, tools to destroy The Dark Lord…and you threw
that all away. Why? To save the life of one girl? I am ashamed of you, Harry.”
He lifted his wand again, and I fell to the floor, a searing pain running
through my bones. Tears fell from my eyes and my screams didn’t make it past my
throat.
“You should have kept to the path I gave you, Harry,” he continued, but I
couldn’t see him through the watery blur. “The path to greatness. Glory. It was
the only way to rid the world of Tom Riddle. And now you have failed me…”
The pain increased as he spoke the last few words. My insides ignited like the
room, and my skin froze. Tears burned my cheeks as if they were melting them. I
was at his mercy, but I still reached out an arm for Snape.
I needed to save him. I owed him so much. I thought to myself, I’ll take it all
for him. Please, just don’t let him die.
From nowhere, a swirling blackness erupted from the back wall, swallowing the
back reaches of the office. My pain stopped as Dumbledore was swallowed. My
body seemed to weigh tons as I tried to lift myself. Papers flew about the room
in chaos, only to find themselves swallowed by the blackness. In the mess, I
crawled to Snape as much as I could. Reaching out a hand, I almost grabbed his
arm, but he, too, flew into the air and into the blackness.
Once he was swallowed, it left. I was alone in the tattered remains of
Dumbledore’s office.
I woke at once, vision blurred and watery. My face was wet, as were my pillow
and sleeping shirt. Someone sat beside me, holding my shoulders to the bed. My
thrashing lessened as I realized it was Tom. I tried to sit up, but his arms
did not let me. In the darkness, I could barely make out his form hovering over
mine, face-to-face. I moved my lips to whisper his name, but my words were
quickly lost as lips pressed to mine. The more I tried to pull away or shake my
head, the more he tried to force me to stay still; his mouth had captured and
held my whole face, and his arms, still holding mine down, held my head in
place. His body was on mine, keeping me down, pressed to the bed, unable to
escape no matter how much I fought. He had me trapped.
This is another nightmare, I told myself. Another terrible nightmare.
A small, involuntary whimper came from my throat, and just as quickly as he had
trapped me, he pulled away. I fought the urge to scream out, but I wasn’t sure
why. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to pull myself out of such a
horrible dream, to wake up and know it was all just a dream.
I shut my eyes, tears making a river down my face to my ears. A nightmare. Just
a nightmare. Wake up.
The indents in the bed from his weight then released, and Tom was gone in an
instant.
Everything in me stilled. Was that me waking up? Tom was just here, but now
he’s gone. Is it over?
I sat up and looked around, still not able to see even if my tears had stopped.
I scooted to the edge of the bed, reached to the table for my glasses, and
pushed them on. I felt odd and so unsure. I wasn’t entirely sure I was out of
the dream.
I grabbed my wand, walked to the door, and opened it to look out into the
hallway. The lights were hardly lit at all.
Surely this is reality. Nothing bad is happening.
I bit my lip instinctively, tasting something on them. I couldn’t place the
flavors, but I was certain it was not blood.
So, what is it, then?
I shook my head and began walking down the hall, one thing on my mind.
I went down the stairs and across the room to the collection of branching
hallways. For a moment, I stopped, trying to remember, then settled on one and
went down it. I counted the doors and stopped before the one I was sure was it.
I turned the knob, and it opened, no problems.
This is it.
I walked inside, finding two tables, one cluttered with a collection of bottles
of memories, the other with only two. As I stared at them, I let my fingers
fiddle with my wand.
Do I really want to do this? To let parts of my memory be blank?
The more I considered it, the more it felt wrong. The privilege of forgetting
began to feel more like a curse.
From my table, I picked up a bottle, bright white with a small green splotch. I
turned it over in my hands, wondering what piece of me was inside it. I tried
to hold it out gently with one hand, but my sleepy fingers slipped, letting the
bottle fall to the floor and smash into nothing. At once, I saw the dream I had
of a unicorn named Doug. It was hazy, at best, but like a piece to a puzzle, my
mind was more complete.
I looked to the other bottle. It was mostly pink, some green and red splotches
stitched together like a child’s sewing project. I didn’t dare pick it up, or
even touch it. Something in me said I would regret it.
With my mind feeling fuller, I decided to let the memory stay. I would deal
with it. It made more sense that way.
I turned to open the door only to find it already open, Tom standing just
inside the room. If it hadn’t been so dark, there was no way he could have
ignored the furious blush that came over my cheeks.
‘Harry.’
I was just…I had a terrible nightmare. Two, actually. I was going to…
‘Yes, I understand. I came for a similar thing.’
I stepped aside, and Tom came further into the room, wand in hand and poised to
his temple already. As he glanced at my table, his wand lowered.
‘Harry, why is there only one bottle on your table? Before, you had two, and I
thought you had just erased a nightmare.’
Oh. Well, I uh…I dropped one on accident. After remembering that dream, I
decided to remember the one I just had.
Tom turned to face me. ‘Is that so?’
I shrugged. I don’t know…I guess it feels like I’m running away from my
problems. This won’t harm me if I remember it so…I’ll just remember it.
Tom turned back to look at his own table. ‘I see…’
A moment of silence passed between us.
Well, I’m going back to bed. I turned to the door.
‘Pleasant dreams.’
I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me. Yes, I had chosen to
remember the nightmare, but I could already feel the thoughts creeping up on
me, ready to eat away at my sanity. It was all so odd. Why did I even have a
dream like that?Normally, my nightmares were haunting, torturous, but only
partially based in reality. I always woke and, once I was reoriented with my
surroundings, would calm and understand that it was over. But that didn’t
happen this time. It felt so real.
I went up the stairs, biting my lip once more and finding that odd taste to it.
Halfway up, I stopped as it hit me.
It was real, I realized. It was real, and Tom went to forget it, too.
***** Ignition *****
Harry’s_POV:
I spent the next few hours being smothered by my thoughts while lying face up
on my bed. I had been in Tom’s manor for almost a week, but so much had
happened, so many problems that I felt responsible for. After facing the
constant nagging, I finally gave into the urge to go over my problems again.
#1: I needed to convert Tom to The Light before he converted me to The Dark.
He had found a source of happiness. And although it was an odd way to think
about it, I was the source of his happiness. Yes, it was some weird, demented
version of me, but if it made him happy, who was I to try and ruin it?
Next, I’ll focus on friendship, then understanding. Understanding is going to
be…difficult, probably. Friendship seems do-able. I…I don’t know what I’ll do
for it, but I’ll figure it out as I go.
#1: 2/3 Solved. 1/3 to go
#2: Tom won’t spare Snape’s life-Solved
#3: I tort—No, you know what? I don’t even care. Skip 3.
#4: Tom wouldn’t tell me what happened in the meeting.
Well…maybe by becoming his friend, he’ll tell me? Or…maybe he’ll keep being a
prat about it.
#5: TOM FUCKING KISSED ME
I…honestly don’t even know to begin with this one.
I sighed. I had no idea what the fuck to do about number 5. My instincts told
me running headfirst into it wasn’t a great idea. Tom knew that I knew, I was
almost certain.
He saw me going to forget it, so if he didn’t get the message that I didn’t
like it when he kissed me, he certainly got it then…right? I mean, he also
knows I chose to remember it, instead…
The more I considered it, the more it replayed in my head. It would have been
weird enough for him to have kissed me, but the way he kissed me only added to
the weirdness. It hadn’t been like that when I kissed Cho or Ginny. It was
entirely different, and not just because Tom was a guy. (Sure, I’d never kissed
a guy before, but that didn’t mean I was straight.) He was purposefully
controlling me, trapping me, forcing me. It was horrible. How could anyone have
an enjoyable kiss like that?
Without warning, another part of me (intrusive thoughts, maybe) began to think,
as well.
Did…did I want the kiss to be enjoyable?
I…I suppose in some sense, I did. If I’m going to be kissed, I’d want a good
kiss. Doesn’t really matter who it came from.
Tom is attractive, though.
I shook my head, attempting to silence that part of my mind.
So what? That doesn’t change anything. The kiss was bad and wrong and weird.
Still, the other part did not leave.
But what if it wasn’t?
My brows drew together. Huh?
What if the kiss hadn’t been weird and wrong? the other part said. Would I have
liked it?
The question hung in my mind for but a moment before I pushed it aside. I was
sure I didn’t want to answer it.
I sat up and got off my bed, suddenly making the decision to go to the sitting
room. My room felt suffocating. I needed to get out, to let my mind relax.
I went out into the hallway and into the sitting room. As soon as I glanced
about, my mind began to calm. The natural reds and browns outside the window,
the peace in the movements of the paintings and in the swaying of the grasses;
it was impossible not to let the tension in my body go.
I watched the grounded leaves be tossed up into the air again by the wind,
fluttering left and right. They were careless and free. It was so serene, but
also a bit saddening. I wanted to be those leaves. To just flutter about, not
caring where I end up but knowing that wherever it was, it would be just as
pleasant. Of course, that would never happen. Even after the war was over, if I
even made it through.
If.
It was such a short word, but Merlin did it leave every situation with so much
unknown. It meant that I could live, or I could die. I could be successful or a
complete failure. If something good happened. Ifmy life became a living hell.
No guarantees. Just guesses and hope.
Guesses and hope don’t run the lives of those leaves.
I plopped myself onto the floor, back against a chair, and just stared out the
window. I wondered where those hills were. There was no way it was just
outside. Tom was all about his “The Dark Lord” aesthetics, so I imagined that
the real outside was full of bare, sad skeletons of trees, or maybe a dark and
thick forest lurking with equally dark creatures. That was the typical villain
hideout, after all.
Funny enough, everything feels a lot like a story. I’m the hero everyone needs,
the one who runs into battle without a second thought and saves everyone,
possibly at the cost of my own life. Then the villain swoops in, more difficult
to face than any other, and I must find a way to defeat them.
I sighed. I’d been doing that a lot lately.
But where am I now? The story’s all messed up. I’ve become the villain’s ally.
I’ve made mistakes, done bad things. I’m not perfect by any standards. In fact,
I’m probably hardly even good. I’m…very messed up. What kind of hero am I?
But looking out into the hills, I longed to be in a new story entirely. One
full of brightly colored leaves, swaying grasses, and not a care in the world.
Then, I was outside, lying in the grasses, feeling their dew on my arms. I
reached out with one hand to catch a bright orange leave that had fluttered
close by. When it brushed the tips of my fingers, it began to burn, spreading
until the whole leaf was nothing but ash. I stared in abject horror.
Around me, the grasses began to grow warm, then hot. I leaped up just as flames
sprung up. My feet carried me backwards clumsily, my footprints also catching
fire. The little fires quickly grew and joined until they became one big fire,
engulfing the whole side of the hill. In a panic, I ran to the tree to try and
climb it, but when my hand touched it, the bark caught fire. I stepped back in
time to watch the flames consume the tree’s branches and leaves that had yet to
fall. I turned and ran, trying to get as far away as I could. After a few
seconds, I turned to look back. The hill was alive with the sinister fire, not
a single bit of its original peaceful colors left.
I tripped and fell to the ground, my glasses flying off my face. I patted the
ground in an attempt to find them, blurry orange coming into my vision
everywhere I touched. When I found my glasses, I shoved them onto my face,
finding the frames far too hot for my skin to bear. My eyes burned but the
ground around me became clear; it was all on fire. It was too late to move and
get away from it. The flames licked at my hands with hunger. I looked up to
find everything was engulfed, every single bit of the once beautiful hills.
I bolted upright. Bloody hell, I fell asleep.
I tried to open my eyes, but a bubbling pain prevented me. My hand flew up to
them as a reaction, but when it reached my forehead, the same pain erupted. I
quickly drew it away, but the pain did not go away. Suddenly, my head began to
burn, too, and the rest of my body grew terribly hot.
Something is wrong.
I tried to get my legs to push me up to stand, but once they did, my head grew
dizzy and the world felt as if it spun. I fell back to the ground, barely
keeping my head from hitting the floor.
Something is terribly wrong.
Though both my hands burned, I used them to drag myself to where I thought the
door was. The more I pulled myself away, the more I felt the pain in my feet
and stomach, as if I were on fire and it was spreading.
This is just like my nightmare. But I’m the one on fire.
I made it out to the hallway, but found myself fading fast as my head burned
hot, prickly needles. I couldn’t see the world, but it was getting hazy anyway.
I knew I wouldn’t make it to wherever I was going. Instinctively, I pulled my
wand from my pocket. I tried to move my lips, but they felt burnt and dried
together.
I’m melting, I thought.
I flicked my wand off, hoping my spell worked. I couldn’t tell. The world was
collapsing in on me. I didn’t have the energy to curse. I just fell to the
floor and let the darkness take me.
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
I woke to the same, familiar tingle in the back of my mind. Slowly, the world
came into focus, and I reoriented myself with consciousness. Opening one eyes,
I saw nothing but blackness. For a moment, I just laid there.
I know I have voiced my concerns over Harry not sleeping, but maybe it is best
for both of us if he does not.
With much regret, I sat up and began to remove myself from my bed. It was late.
The day had been extraordinarily long. The night was seeming to be even longer.
I questioned for a moment if it would ever end. It did not seem likely.
When I reached the edge of my bed, Calming Draught in my hand already (although
I did not remember summoning it), the tingle stopped. I paused, wondering if
Harry had settled his nightmares himself. He had never done that before.
Just as I was about to get back into my bed, the tingle returned in the form of
a large, sharp pain.
Insufferable brat! What is going on now?
I rubbed at my head but stood and began to make my way upstairs to Harry.
The more I walked, the more my mind woke, revitalizing the thoughts it had
before I slept.
Harry decided to remember it. He remembered that I kissed him. And I chose to
remember that I kissed him. We both knew. How do we interact now? Harry had
made it obvious before that he did not enjoy the kiss, but does his decision to
remember it nullify that? Why did he choose to remember? More importantly, did
I enjoy it?
I had been asking myself the question repeatedly.
I think if I had enjoyed it, I would feel more strongly that I had enjoyed it.
I would not be questioning if I had. I did not enjoy it.
I thought back to the moment, feeling it once more.
It felt…sudden. It was an impulse. I do not normally give impulses power over
me. And Harry was helpless under me. Rather than feel powerful, as I had in my
previous thoughts of such an action, I felt…guilty. It was a horribly unclean
feeling, and I stopped immediately and left. If I were able to repeat the
moment, would I still feel the guilt had I not been so domineering?
As I began to climb the stairs, the pain faded away until it stopped
completely.
That is…concerning.
I quickly climbed the steps and entered the hallway. It may have been dark, but
I could still make out Harry’s crumpled figure on the floor. My eyes widened.
What has happened?
Scanning the hall, I approached slowly, wand in my hand. There did not seem to
be any threats. When I reached Harry, I put my wand away and lifted his head,
which was warm to the touch.
“Lumenat.”
The balls of light in the hallway brightened considerably, and I was able to
see Harry fully. Although his face was a bit flushed, he did not appear to be
wounded in any way. Of course, being a dark lord, I did not know the proper
healing spells that would have allowed me to confirm my observations. As it
was, I did not have the slightest clue of what had occurred.
There was a crack, and the air parted as Severus appeared just before Harry’s
door.
“Severus,” I said.
He turned to look at me, his black eyes bulging when he noticed the unconscious
Harry before me. He came over and kneeled on Harry’s other side.
“What on Earth happened?”
“I have no idea. Severus, why are you here?”
He pulled out his wand, casting a spell that covered a small bit of Harry’s
head in blue light. “Harry sent his Patronus to me, but there was no message. I
figured either something was wrong and he could not speak, or he found it
entertaining to irritate me in the early morning hours.”
“He had a fever or some sort, as well as burns. Nothing I am able to treat,” he
announced.
“Burns?” I questioned. “He does not appear to have burns.”
“They’re internal. Hence why I cannot heal them.”
“Internal burns? Severus, what did this?”
He shook his head. “Some kind of curse, I would assume. Possibly a potion.
Nothing I have heard of.”
“Nor I.” I looked to Harry, eyes closed and face flushed. He looked more
peaceful than I had ever seen him. For a brief moment, I wondered.
Have I done this?
I glanced back up to Severus, noticing the glint in his eyes that made their
seriousness look worried.
I carefully lowered Harry’s head and stood. “I shall research. I may not
remember the curse, but surely I can find it. If it is advanced, it may be
helpful to know what curse it was. Otherwise, a simple canceling spell may
work. Severus, if you would.”
He nodded, already readying his wand.
I turned to head to the library, instead my eyes catching on the nearby open
door. The ends of black marks were just barely visible on the floor. I stepped
closer, caution filling my body once more. After another step, I was in the
doorway, and all caution fell from my body.
From the fireplace erupted a large, black char mark that seemed to consume most
of the room. The paintings on the walls were ashy and full of holes, framed by
crumbling bits of metal. The chairs and couch were all as dark as the glass
that glittered underneath a large fire in the fireplace.
“Severus,” I called, eyes unable to be removed from the disastrous scene.
A few seconds later, he joined me in the doorway.
“That fireplace is charmed,” I explained. “It ignites when one thinks of doing
so. Harry must have thought of a massive fire.”
But Severus was gone from my side before I finished.
“We must get him to medical care immediately.”
I turned and stared at him, standing before Harry.
My pulse jumped. “What would we tell them? I-I cannot go. They would not let
me.”
“My Lord, this is urgent. Harry requires healing that I cannot provide. No one
knows who Tom Riddle is, or what you look like. The concern is Harry.” He bent
down, then, about to pick Harry up.
Before he could get even one arm around Harry, I levitated him up and into my
own arms. Although Severus stared at me with narrowed eyes, he said nothing,
just standing and placing a hand on my shoulder.
We apparated, arriving in a blur of colors before St. Mungo’s Hospital’s front
lobby. Without hesitation, Severus went to the front desk.
“Miss, we have here a boy burned with a magical fire. He needs attention
immediately.”
The woman behind the desk did not bother to look up at us. “I’m sorry, sir, but
there is a line. Please fill out this form,” one hand pointed at a stack of
papers to our left, “and return it to me. Then the healers will see you as soon
as you come back from their break.”
“On break?” Severus asked, incredulous, his monotone disappearing completely.
“We have Harry Potter, who has been severely burned by enchanted flames, and
you’re telling me your healers are on break?”
The woman’s eyes widened, and her voice was high ad squeaky. “Harry Potter?”
She stood and looked to the boy in my arms. “I’ll page the healers immediately!
Let me have a nurse get you a room…”
She looked back down to the phones and began pushing buttons furiously. Various
shapes of light ejected from the front of her desk and ran off in every
direction.
Not two seconds later, a nurse came sprinting down a hallway, grabbed my arm
and nearly dragged us down another plain white hall. As we traveled down it, a
white hospital bed appeared. With some reluctance, I placed Harry down on it,
careful not to hurt him any more than he already had been. The moment I
released him, he was wrapped in a rainbow of swirling lights.
At least, we turned into a room where several men and women were apparently
waiting for us. Several of them began to ask questions all at once to the nurse
who came with us while the others checked on Harry. In the air, many clipboards
floated, taking notes at an incredible speed.
The room was in chaos as everyone attempted to aid Harry, but Severus and I
simply stood on the outskirts of the room. I was useless, a feeling I did not
particularly enjoy.
“May I be of assistance?” I interrupted. They all stared at me, silent, for
they seemed unaware that anyone else was in the room with them.
When the rest of them returned to what they were doing, one man came over to
us. “Yes. Uh, first off, who are you?” He looked to me, then to Severus.
“Both,” he added.
“I am…a family friend,” Severus said as if the words could choke him. Was it
the shock of the situation, or the difficulty of saying the words “family
friend” in reference to himself?
“And I…” I began. What do I say? Something simple. “…I am just a close friend.”
The doctor nodded. “And how long has he been unconscious?”
“About half an hour,” Severus answered. I was thankful he had kept the time,
for I had not.
“Great. And what seems to have caused this?”
“We believe it may be a magical burn from an enchanted fireplace that lost
control of its flame.” Severus glanced at me, silently looking for
confirmation.
I nodded, the scent of sterility making its way to my nose. My stomach churched
in a most unpleasant manner.
“Okay,” the healer continued. “Has he been through any special circumstances
lately? Anything that might cause him to want to kill himself?”
We just stared at the man, who had asked a terribly personal, serious question
as if it was nothing but a casual conversation. I glanced to Severus, who,
although capable of more patience than I, let a distinct look come over his
features, one that said, “of course you bloody imbecile he’s the Boy Who
Lived.”
“Not that isn’t normal,” he said at last through his teeth.
The healer nodded and walked away from us, a clipboard taking notes above his
head following.
Between the irritation and concern, I felt an unease growing. The longer I
stood, the more it consumed my stomach. No longer comfortable standing, I
allowed myself to sit in the only chair in the room. Of course, once I sat, I
found the cushion to be hard, and the back was angled much too far back. It was
so wholly uncomfortable, I considered standing once more. And of course, I had
my wand with me, but it was likely more recognizable than I was. And wandless
transfiguration was…not something common wizards could do.
“Severus, may I borrow your wand? It seems I…left mine at home.”
Although his features voiced their irritation, he pulled his wand out and
offered it to me. I took it, sensing its magical limits immediately. The wand
was terrible for transfiguration. Still, I transfigured the chair I occupied
into something more reflective of my usual comfort. Although it offered little
release from my unease, I settled in and handed Severus back his wand.
We continued to watch from the edge of the room as the rainbow lights that has
swirled about Harry then vanished, blue lights taking their place. I could only
assume this meant they were treating him, although I was uncertain. After a
moment of Harry being covered in the blue light, many of the healers left the
room, leaving just one, the one we had spoken with previously.
He came over to us, showing a smile that revealed too many teeth. “Harry will
be just fine. It was a magical fire, but the burns are not too serious. We are
taking care of them now. He should be back to fighting You-Know-Know in no
time!”
I smiled, sincere on the outside but wicked on the inside. How shocked he would
be to know that he had just said that to The Dark Lord himself…
Severus and I nodded, and he thanked him. With that, he left the room, leaving
myself, Severus, and Harry alone.
Severus took the opportunity to stand by Harry’s side, now that the spot was
not taken by a flock of healers all scurrying about. For all of about ten
minutes, we watched Harry, waiting for even a flicker of movement.
The healer returned, then with a very sterile smelling blanket. He carefully
placed it over Harry and left the room again.
It was this addition that brought bile up into my throat.
“Severus,” I said standing. “I will be outside.”
I did not wait for a response or even a reaction. I went out the door, down the
hall, and into the fresh air. Once the medical smell was gone, my stomach
settled, as did my nerves.
The morning grew, but I would not have noticed any time passing at all were it
not for the sunlight. It was bright outside now with midmorning, and I leaned
against the wall next to the front doors of the hospital. I watched the amount
of people grow from one or two into crowds, talking to their friends, or
themselves, on their way to wherever their destination was, not noticing
anything else around them. I had once hoped to better these people, but hope
had long left my life.
Who says they are even worth my time?
I let my head lean back onto the cold panels of the wall behind me. The
question had been a rhetorical one, but my mind supplied an answer
nevertheless.
Harry. Harry thinks they are worth my time. In fact, he thinks they are worth
his life. He would sacrifice his own existence for witches, wizards, and
muggles he did not even know. What makes them so special? What makes them
soworthyof his protection?
The more I watched them, the more I found myself confused.
In the early morning, when there had been few of them, no one had spoke or
acknowledged the presence of the others. They did not seem to care about one
another. If one of them was murdered, who was to say the others would not just
scurry away, feigning that they had not seen? They were individuals, separated
and unconnected in every way. That was life in all its miserable glory.
However, then the crowds arrived, the dynamic had changed. People walked in
groups, some talking with others they knew, but many did not seem to know
anyone. Still, these groups walked together in some unspoken bond of company.
Perhaps they had the same destination. Perhaps they had the same journey to
take. Although it would have been difficult to bear witness, were someone
murdered in these crowds, everyone would know. It would start with those
closest and move outwards in waves. They would call the authorities, perhaps
too many of them. They would crowd the body, perhaps their eyes would follow
the murderer in an endless line of continuous sight; the ones who saw would not
move to follow him, but they would not need to. Everyone in the crowd would
know. The murderer would stick out, go against the grain. The crowds somehow
had a pattern, an unspoken connection they had that the murderer had broken.
Midst these thoughts, I heard someone begin to call out. I looked up to see a
woman across the street, a wallet in her hand. “Sir!” She was yelling, trying
her best to walk against the stream of the crowd and follow a man who I
supposed had dropped the wallet.
She’s broken the pattern, I thought. She’ll never get there.
And still, she struggled. It was not until she placed the wallet high in the
air and began to shout, “Excuse me, I need to return this!” that the crowd
parted. I watched, slightly astonished, as she was finally able to make it to
the man, tap him on the shoulder, and offer him back his wallet. He looked at
the wallet, felt around at his pockets, and chuckled. I could not hear what he
said to her, but he took the wallet from her with a smile. She smiled back.
Then, they both turned and went their own ways, rejoining the crowd as if the
incident had never happened.
Why return the wallet when she could have kept it and saved herself the effort?
It would have been easier and more profitable.
I supposed she had hoped to receive a reward for her good deed, but she did not
seem to be irritated when she did not.
It is not punishable by law to not return a lost item. But they both smiled
when she did return it. The man was happy, and understandably so. But why was
she happy?
Interrupting my thoughts, I felt a buzz in the back if my head, and then a
tingle.
Harry.
I immediately went back inside to Harry's room. Nothing had seemed to change.
Harry still just laid on his bed, covered in a sterile blanket and blue light.
I walked over to Severus and cast a silencing charm around us.
“Severus, I can feel the connection with Harry, again. He is, more or less,
conscious.”
Severus nodded, and I dropped the charm. I made my way back to the chair and
resumed watching Harry.
The healer walked in, cast a brighter light over Harry for a moment, then
flicked his wand and ceased all the light over him. Then, just as quickly as he
had entered, he left.
I could feel Harry’s mind, sluggish and unprotected, move about vaguely. I
reached out to it.
Harry?
His eyes twitched, but there was nothing more. I sighed. The morning passed
ever slower. It would be an eternity before tomorrow came.
===============================================================================
Harry’s_POV:
Just as the world had slipped from under me in a lazy haze, the world returned
in the same way. I didn’t know where I was, but it did not feel familiar. I
tried to open my eyes, but they were so heavy I could only get them to twitch.
That itself took so much energy. My entire body, I realized, was heavy. I
didn’t have the energy.
I felt a whisper somewhere, but it was so far away, I could hardly hear it at
all. Still, it was soft and familiar. I longed for familiar. I longed for safe.
As I breathed, I smelt something odd, but I couldn’t place it. It was very
clean. Maybe too clean. I couldn’t place how I felt about it, but it gave my
mind depth, something it could grab onto and hoist itself into wakeness.
Voices around me spoke to each other in muffled tones. I could only catch a few
words.
“Severus…moving…better.”
“I see…could take…really needs…”
I knew these voices. They were familiar, and I wanted to see them. I opened my
mouth to speak, but no words came from my dry throat. I closed my lips just a
quickly when the horrible smell of sterile hospital became a taste my tongue
caught.
Bloody hell, I’m in the hospital.
It all came back to me. The sitting room, the nightmare, passing out. I
realized it must have been as bad as it felt.
“Rest?” I heard Tom’s voice say. “Harry refuses to sleep at night. What makes
you say he needs rest? He’s hardly slept since beginning to stay with me. And
if he does sleep, he has nightmares. He functions on no rest.”
“He needs to let his body reorient itself,” I heard Snape’s monotone say. “It
is not a matter of what Harry prefers. His body requires it. He will not be
able to heal properly if you wake him.”
Who ever said I was asleep? my still foggy mind thought in Tom’s general
direction.
‘Harry, you’re awake. Good.’ “He’s already awake, Severus.”
“If he is awake, then why has he not moved?”
I’m not sure I want to open my eyes. I already know I’m in the hospital. Just
take me home before I have to talk to the doctors about what happened. Or
worse, about being famous.
“He does not want to see the hospital,” Tom said. “I cannot blame him. It is a
dreadful place with a horrendous smell.”
There was a pause.
“Harry will wake regardless of where he his so that I may confirm he is healed
properly. It is not his choice. I do have some smelling salts in my emergency
potions kit…”
I groaned. I already didn’t like the smell of hospital. Smelling salts sounded
even worse.
“Alright, professor,” I managed, voice hoarse almost beyond recognition. I
heard footsteps, then the darkness of my eyelids got a bit darker. “I’m awake.
I just…feel like the energy has been sucked out of me.”
‘That’s quite alright, Harry.’ Tom thought. His words were as comforting as
they had ever been.‘Do not waste your breath if you do not wish to.’
What happened, exactly? What did you tell the doctors?
‘The fireplace in the sitting room. You did not know, but it is enchanted to
light a fire when one thinks of it. You were burned in its fire, but only
internally.’
Oh. Well…that makes sense.
‘As for the doctors, we mostly told them the truth.’
Mostly?
‘Yes. Severus said he was a family friend.’
I could have laughed. I supposed the irony was lost on Tom, since he stated it
as a fact and not a joke. I was certain, were my parents alive, that they would
have gotten a kick out of it.
And they bought that?I thought.
‘Yes, they did. As did Ms. Rita Skeeter. She stopped by to ask for an
interview, which we gladly declined.’
Thank, Merlin. I can only imagine what kind of horrible headline this story
would make.I shook my head, finding the motion made it hurt. What did you tell
them?
Confusion. ‘Tell who?’
The doctors. Obviously, you didn’t tell them you were The Dark Lord, so what
did you tell them?
‘I said I was a close friend.’
Oh. Okay.
Our minds were quiet a moment.
Well, I thought. Are you?
‘Am I what?’
Are you my friend?
I could hear Tom scoff. ‘Dark lords do not have friends.’
No, but normal people do, which is what you are, Tom. Well, maybe you’re not
exactly normal, but I’m not either, so…
Tom did not respond.
So are you? I prodded.
‘I…do not know how to respond. I have never considered the idea before.’
Then I’ll be your first. I smiled. It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything
different to be my friend. We already kind of understand each other. Maybe
we’ll play a game every once and a while for fun.
‘Harry, you are odd.’
I smiled bigger.
“Harry, what are you two discussing?” Snape asked.
“Tom said he’s my friend.”
I could sense Tom’s annoyance, but he said nothing to deny it.
This was a good day, I could feel it. I didn’t care that I had internal burns
and was in the hospital unable to gather enough energy to open my eyes. Nothing
could ruin my day.
***** Trail of Flowers *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter contains graphic depictions of sexual actions. Please
     read at your own risk.
Harry’s_POV:
I was thankful that I got to leave the hospital that day. The doctors checked
me over one more time before they discharged me, and since the nurse began all
the paperwork while the healers were fixing me, it was a pretty fast process.
It was afternoon, and the rest of the day was falling fast. Not only had I
convinced Tom to become my friend, but he told me that because I destroyed all
the paintings in the sitting room, he was getting someone to repaint them,
which meant I got to watch.
I also learned that I was somehow able to send a wordless Patronus to Snape
just before I passed out. The idea was almost crazy to me. But Snape was right;
I did always have luck on my side. I put forth almost no effort to make great
things happen, but they happened anyway. It never ceased to amaze me.
I was laying on the floor of the training room, Snape standing by the doorway.
He had refused to let me out of his sight since I had gotten back, which I
supposed I couldn’t blame him for. Tom had told us to wait for him here. He
hadn’t explained why, of course, but I was too preoccupied with my own good
mood, I didn’t take the time to stress over it.
Problems that need solving:
#1: I needed to convert Tom to The Light before he converted me to The Dark.
Happiness, check. Friendship, check. Understanding…well, he understands me, I
think. At least, mostly. Really, what he needs is to better understand others.
That’s…going to be tough.
#1: So close to being solved…but not quite.
I’m skipping the next two, since they either don’t matter or are solved.
#4: Tom wouldn’t tell me what happened in the meeting.
I suppose this can be my next order of business. Surely there’s a way to get
him to tell me. Maybe…if I could…but I can’t be sure he would go for that…I’ll
try it anyway.
#4: Planned, but iffy
#5: TOM FUCKING KISSED ME
Still not quite sure what to do with this. I mean, we’re friends now, so maybe
we talk about it and…forget it ever happened? Maybe?
#5: Yeah, I’ve got no fucking clue.
My last two problems were still such a mess, but the fact that I had only two
real problems left was incredible. I was making progress, and I could measure
it. It was a great feeling.
I opened my hand, which I had been making magical clay in. I sat up and began
to mold it. A small smile came onto my face as I decided to make it into a
flower.
“Harry.” I glanced up at Snape. “What are you doing?”
I extended the hand holding it to him. “Making a flower.”
“What is that?” His voice held the same uninterested tone it always held, but I
figured that he wouldn’t ask unless he was curious. That fact changed the way
his words resonated in my head.
“I’m not actually sure.” I lowered my hand and looked at the clay myself. “I
was bored one day, so I tried using wordless and wandless magic to make a
butterfly. It didn’t go so well, but I made this. It’s kind of like clay.
Watch.”
I carefully brought the ends of my petals together and pinched them together
just barely, so they would hold that position but not mash together. I held out
my hand a bit and told the flower to bloom. We both watched as the petals of
light opened slowly, like real flowers, revealing much more detail than I had
originally molded. It floated out of my hand, twirling and spinning until it
hit the floor.
I glanced back over to Snape, finding a small smile ever gracing his normally
grimacing mouth.
There’s no going back to being a grumpy old potions master, now.
“Harry, you remind me so much of your mother. She used to make flowers bloom
all year, even in the winter. That is how she discovered her magic.”
The smile on my face grew. I could just imagine my mother running through a
grassy field, red hair caught in the wind, green almond eyes—our eyes—closed
and crinkled with happy lines, a trail of flowers blooming behind her. It
brought a warmth to my chest.
“Well, that’s much better than how I found out. I mean, I did loads of weird
things my whole life, but it wasn’t until Hagrid burst down the door to this
grubby little shack we were in that I even considered the idea.”
I picked up the flower again and released it just so I could watch it spin back
down. It was like seeing a real flower, but without the perks of being outside.
With every day that passed, it seemed, I wanted to be outside even more. I
wanted the freedom, the fresh air, the beauty. I longed for it, but it wasn’t
possible yet.
For now, the fake flowers will have to do.
I looked back to Snape and saw he had pressed his hands into a ball. For a
moment, he concentrated, then opened his hands. A bumble bee flew out, round
and rather fluffy, and made its way over to my flower. I watched it land right
in the center of my flower. If it didn’t have a distinct glow, I would have
thought it was real.
An idea popped into my head. I made more magic clay in my hand and began to
mold it into an oblong crescent-type shape: a cocoon, layered, thick, and
textured. I flattened out my hand and told it to open. It twitched a couple of
times before a thin leg made a hole in it. From that hole came a thin body,
more legs, and finally a pair of wings. After fully leaving its cocoon, the
butterfly stretched out and fluttered its wings a few times. The pattern on
them was beautiful, like a mosaic of some exotic creature’s eyes. It was a
monarch, I was sure.
Before long, it flew off my hand and into the air. Tom walked into the room
just in time to see the bee buzz off the flower so that the butterfly could
land.
“Having a bit of fun, I see,” he said, his brows drawn together, but his face
otherwise expressionless.
“Sorry. We were bored waiting for you.” I pulled the flower and butterfly back
into my hand and closed it. When I opened it, little wisps of light were all
that was left. I watched Snape’s bee buzz around a bit longer before it, too,
disappeared. “So, what were we waiting for anyway?”
Tom produced a small box from his pocket, placing it on the floor in the middle
of the room. He waved his hands apart from each other, and the box began to
grow until it was a trunk.
“I hope you do not mind, Harry, but I took the liberty to roam around in your
thoughts while you were unconscious.”
Uh… a furious blush came over my face. “What? Why?”
“I was looking for a way to train with the spell you taught me. Which, of
course, I found. This box is a form of boggart. The difference between this and
a real boggart, such as the one you trained with in your third year, is that
this allows you to control not only the form it takes, but how many of them
there are.”
My embarrassment subsided. “You actually want to train with the spell I taught
you?” I smiled. This is new.
“Well, yes. Were I to be in a situation where I was around dementors—Azkaban,
for example—I would need the means to escape.”
I chuckled, finding the explanation ridiculous. I’d never let you go to
Azkaban. Not to release your Death Eaters or as a punishment.
Tom raised an eyebrow at me, but did not reply.
I stood. “Alright. Well, let’s get started.”
I walked over next to Tom and faced the box. Pulling out my wand, I was ready.
‘Impress me, Harry.’
I gave a wicked grin. That was a request I could certainly fulfill.
Tom undid the lock with a wave of his hand and the boggart was released.
Slowly, one rounded black head popped out from the box and the temperature of
the room dropped. As it pulled its body out, a group followed until about
twenty dementors floated just between the box and I. They all came towards me,
but I closed my eyes.
A small girl running through a field of grasses so tall, she was almost
swallowed. Her red hair billowed behind her in the cold, autumn breeze, but
from her steps sprouted bunches of spring flowers: daffodils, primroses,
violets, azaleas. She laughed and danced until the field was covered, her
flowers reflecting the brightness in her eyes.
“Expecto Patronum.” A white light came from my wand, and my stag appeared. It
stood proud and strong as it cast a large barrier of light towards the
Dementors, sending a repelling wave every time my heart beat. The Dementors
were forced back into the opening of the box, and the lid closed and locked.
“Well done, Harry,” Snape said. I smiled. It was the first compliment he’d ever
given me.
Tom nodded his agreement. “Yes, excellent.” He clapped, a smirk on his face. “I
shall go, now.”
“Okay,” I said, “but only start with one. You can cast it sometimes, but not
always. Be careful.”
Tom already had his wand at the ready. He waved his hand and the lock released.
When the box opened, two dementors came out and began to make their way toward
Tom.
Tom, that’s too many, I thought at him.
“Expecto Patronum,” he said, but no light came from his wand.
My worry grew as the dementors made their way closer to him.
“Expecto Patronum,” he said again, but to no avail. They were just before him,
then.
One inhale is all it takes.
Just as the first Dementor began its soul-sucking, I raised my wand. “Expecto
Patronum!”
A furiously bright light came from my wand and banished the Dementors back into
their box in mere seconds. The box locked, and I lowered my wand.
I turned to Tom, who had fallen to his knees. “Professor, could you get some
chocolate?”
Snape conjured some and held it out to me. I took it and pressed it into Tom’s
hands, feeling around for his mind. When I found it, he felt a bit disoriented,
but otherwise fine.
“Eat this,” I said.
He looked up at me with confusion. “What is this for?”
“It helps to eat chocolate after being attacked by a Dementor. It sends
endorphins to your brain, which make you happy.”
‘I see…’
Although Tom stared at the candy like a foreign object, he bit a small piece
off. “So this counteracts the effects of the Dementors?”
“Yeah. Kind of.”
He took another small bite then placed the rest in my hand as he stood again.
“I will try once more.”
“Only one this time, Tom,” I warned. For a moment, the concern in my heart made
me wonder: Is this what I make other people feel like all the time?
Tom unlocked the box and, thankfully, only one Dementor emerged. He stood still
for a moment, closing his eyes and concentrating. The next moment, he raised
his wand.
“Expecto Patronum.”
A great white light erupted form his wand and morphed into a basilisk, ready to
attack. It stared the Dementor down, sending a shield of light at it. The
Dementor was struck back into the box, which closed and locked itself.
“That was great, Tom!” It was my turn to clap.
“Indeed, My Lord,” Snape agreed.
The training went on for hours. Sometimes his Patronus would work, and others
it wouldn’t. We went through nearly a whole bar of chocolate, and I had to come
in to act a few times. Snape kept a record of how many times it had worked.
At last, Tom turned to Snape and asked, “how am I doing?”
“You have a 45 percent rate of success,” he answered. “It works less than half
the time.”
Anger. I could feel it building up and pouring out from Tom’s mind. I knew it
was the happy thoughts that were troubling him. I didn’t need to see into his
brain to know that he did not have happiness down to a T, but he was getting
there.
Through the whole lesson, I wondered what could make Tom happy. I had seen some
of his happy thoughts—namely, me torturing Pettigrew—but surely that wasn’t a
permanent solution, otherwise he’d use the thought every time and have a better
rate of success.
I know what makes me happy. Friends, family. But Tom doesn’t have those things,
just me and some followers.I sighed. Is there something I can do to make him
happy other than torture Pettigrew?
I knew he didn’t much like the world we were in. He hated many things about it,
in fact.
But what does he like about it? What do I like about it?I thought back to the
hills. Maybe if I could take him there, he would see.
But, unfortunately, my idea had to wait.
“My Lord,” Snape said. “It is time.”
Tom nodded. With a grimace, he turned and apparated away.
I gestured to the air where Tom had just been. “Why’d he apparate? It’s just
down in the next hall…” I turned to Snape, but he too, it seemed, had
apparated.
I rolled my eyes and walked out the door down to the next hallway. It didn’t
take long before I opened the door to the private meeting room where Tom and
Snape waited for me. I quickly took my seat in the golden chair and watched as
Snape kneeled before Tom.
“Severus,” Tom began,” you have been a fine servant in the past, but now your
services are no longer mine to control. I free you of this bond.”
Tom outstretched his hand. Snape placed his left forearm in it, dark mark
facing up. With his other hand, Tom ran his fingernails down Snape’s arm,
cutting into the skin until blood began to pool and drip. Snape’s face
distorted in pain.
It took all my willpower not to try and stop it. This has to happen, I told
myself. Otherwise, Snape will still be a Death Eater.
Tom’s nails stopped at Snape’s wrist, covered in his blood. He let go of Snape,
both performing cleaning spells. When the blood was gone of his arm, I noticed
that the mark was, in fact, gone.
“Episky.” Snape’s wounds were bathed in blue light. The wounds faded until they
were faint shadows of what they had been.
He stood, then, and bowed to Tom, probably for the last time.
“Thank you, My L-” he stopped himself. “Tom,” he corrected.
Tom huffed with irritation. “Yes, you may go now, Severus.”
Snape nodded. “Of course.” He pulled out his wand. For a moment, he looked to
me. Then, with a turn, he disapperated.
“It is time for dinner, Harry,” Tom announced as he walked out of the room. I
followed after him.
I didn’t feel hungry at all, but I decided to eat anyway, so Tom wouldn’t gripe
at me. It was delicious, but there was no way I could have finished it all.
When I finally pushed my plate away, I sat, not knowing what to do as I waited
for Tom to finish. Of course, a little thought floated around the front of my
mind.
Number five, it said. Ask about number five.
“Hey, Tom?” my mouth asked before I even realized it had even opened.
“Yes, Harry?”
I hesitated. Do I really want to bring this up now? I don’t even know exactly
how I feel about it yet. I sighed internally. “Last night…after my nightmare,
but before I burned myself…did you…kiss me?”
The silence the question left only served to deepen the blush I was sure I had.
“That depends,” Tom said. “Do you think I did?”
My eyes narrowed in confusion. “I’m…pretty sure you did. So, the better
question might be…why did you?”
Tom didn’t reply. Instead, he continued to eat his dinner. My cheeks burned,
and my head pounded with anticipation. Why wasn’t he answering?
Tom finally finished and pushed his plate away. I had been staring at him,
probably not blinking, as I was lost in thoughts of why. His face was a careful
mask, showing no sign of anything, and I found that distressing. Is he hiding
something?I waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. I began to fidget. My
nerves were getting the better of me.
What if I didn’t want to hear his answer? If it was something weird?
If…there that word was again. The one that never gave me any hints.
“Harry,” Tom began at last. “I am going to be completely honest with you.” ‘For
once,’ his mind added.
I was sure my heart paused for a fraction of a second. “Okay,” I said, quieter
than I intended.
“I couldn’t help myself,” he said simply, like it was blatantly obvious that he
couldn’t help but force a kiss on me just like he had to breathe.
I stared at him, mouth opened slightly. He would not meet my eyes. “What the
bloody hell does that mean?”
“I…” he started, but hesitated. “I simply felt the need.”
That wasn’t any better of an answer. I was getting impatient. I still wasn’t
sure if the answer was something I wanted to hear, but at least it would put my
stray thoughts and anxieties to rest. Merlin knows I needed that.
“You just…felt the need to force your mouth on mine right after I woke up from
a nightmare? You felt the need to freak me out beyond belief?”
Tom met my eyes for a moment, and my impatience subsided. Something in them was
different. These were not the bright, bloody red of Voldemort, or even the more
tolerant red that was distinctly Tom. They were deep and maroon, almost like
velvet. We looked at one another, and I felt the breath in my lungs pause. I
was caught up in these foreign eyes, but then Tom looked back down to the
table, and I was released.
“Exactly,” he responded rather lamely.
That was not the answer I was expecting. I mean, I wasn’t exactly expecting an
answer, but if I had, that was certainly not it.
“What?” was all I managed to say.
Tom adjusted his body in the chair, as if uncomfortable in his entirely too
comfy throne.
“Tom,” I continued. “I don’t understand. Is that your plan? Just…leave me in
the dark about it? I want to know why. I think I deserve that much.” I sounded
much more confident in my tone than I felt.
Story of my life, I thought.
“You want to know?” He finally looked back to me. I couldn’t make out his
expression, it was so new. “I did it because I saw you at your most vulnerable.
I wanted to know, Harry. I wanted to know what it would be like to have control
over a being I knew I would never be able to.” His eyes were so piercing, they
could have been looking right through me. “I kissed you, and it felt nothing
like I had expected. I very much regret the circumstances in which it
happened.”
My eyes widened. My heart stopped. I wasn’t sure I was breathing. He’d just
told me everything, like I had read his mind. But I hadn’t. He just willingly
gave me his thoughts.
I let my eyes fall down to the table as I attempted to process his answer. A
second later, his hand grabbed my chin and pulled it, forcing me to look into
his velvet eyes. I knew where this was going, and while a part of me wanted to
fight it, another part just wanted to let it happen.
His hungry lips made their way onto mine, not forcefully, but with strength. I
shut my eyes tightly.
I don’t like this, a part of me said. It was easy to think it, and yet I still
did not pull away.
He parted and released my chin. We sat in silence for a long moment, unmoving
and barely breathing. It was as if the world had paused. Then, I stood.
“What the hell?”
Tom did not look at me or answer my question, leaving me feeling angry,
flustered, and used. I couldn’t make out his expression. I poked at his mind
through our connection, but it was sealed shut.
Let me in, damn it! Give me some explanation! Something!
But he said nothing.
I grabbed my wand from my pocket and apparated to my room. The second I
arrived, I cast up a silencing charm and began to scream.
“I HATE YOU!”
I threw my wand on the bed, angry thoughts consuming my mind. How could you let
him control you? Why does it feel so wrong? Why won’t he answer? Why did he
kiss you? Why didn’t I pull away? What was wrong with him? What was wrong with
you?
I punched the wall, not bothering to let the pain get to me. “I hate you! I
hate you!”
I wasn’t yelling at Tom. I knew I didn’t hate Tom. Deep down, beneath the
anger, I knew I would never hate Tom. But I hated something. There was
something I couldn’t quite place, a piece I wasn’t getting. I didn’t know what
it was, but I hated it with every fiber of my being.
Tears stung at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “I hate
you!” I picked up a pillow and pitched it to the other side of the room.
With that last throw, my anger faded, leaving nothing but shivering sorrow. I
sat on the edge of the bed, unable to prevent the feeling from taking over.
‘I hate you,’ I whispered, the first tear escaping from my eye. Then in a
frenzy, tears poured form my eyes. I felt a chill on my arms, and my chest
began to shake and heave with uneven breaths. My crying turned to sobbing, and
I fell face first onto the bed.
I hate you.
I let myself cry until the tears stopped. Once they did, I felt level. I laid
on my back, knees hanging off the bed. My thoughts swam around in a pool of
confusion, mingling freely, coming to their own conclusions; it was the
greatest way to find out how I truly felt without my interference. I knew what
was wrong and what was right, but my thoughts only knew what they knew.
That was absolutely disgusting. I hated that…but I stayed for it, so I must
have at least wanted to like it. What didn’t I like about it? This kiss hadn’t
been as controlling as the last. Still, it wasn’t my choice to participate.
Would I choose to participate if it was a normal kiss? Maybe. I wouldn’t be
opposed to the idea, but I didn’t want to be taken advantage of.
And why did Tom do it? He said the first kiss was because he wanted to control
me, but that he didn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he would. Did he like
this kiss better? It was less controlling. Did he want to like the feeling of
kissing me or the feeling of controlling me? How did he feel about me? We’re
allies. We’re friends. I know I can irritate him, but I know he doesn’t hate
me.
Does he know how he feels about me? Do I know how I feel about him? I know I
don’t hate him. I know I want to be his friend. I know that I care about him
enough to help him. I’d give my life to save his, but maybe that didn’t mean
much coming from me—I’ve done that a lot and would do that for almost anyone.
I’ve shared a mind with him. I trust him, and he trusts me, to an extent. We’ve
lived in the same manor for a week, although it is pretty big. We’ve taught and
learned from each other. We know each other’s pasts. We’ve been enemies, and
we’ve kissed. What does all of that mean?
I sat back up. I had no idea how much time had passed. I assumed a little bit,
but not too long.
I should see if there’s still time to talk to Tom.
I grabbed my wand, removed the silencing charm, then returned it to my pocket.
I opened the door to the hallway finding the lights were hardly lit at all.
So, a long time has passed. Great. Tom’s asleep, then.
I decided to head over to the still-charred sitting room. As an afterthought, I
promised myself I wouldn’t fall asleep and dream of large fires.
I opened the door to the sitting room and just stared inside. The room had a
whole different feeling, now. It was not calm and peaceful, but eerie and very
much past, like ancient ruins. The char marks covered the walls and floor near
the fireplace. There was one clear spot right in front of the chair that looked
out the darkened, smoky window.
That’s where I was. I was right in the path of the flames. No wonder I got
burned.
Through the window, which I could just barely make out, the grasses rolled on
the quiet hills, not a single char mark or bit of ash. I thanked Merlin that my
dream had not been real enough to reach the hills.
I stepped inside the room and sat in the clear spot in front of the chair,
making some magical clay. I did not pay much attention to what I molded,
letting my hands do the work. Without my hesitation and second guessing, they
moved with more precision than I was normally capable of.
When my hands stopped, I looked over their work. I couldn’t tell what it was
exactly, but it appeared to be curled up. Curious, I told it to wake up. The
clay moved, removing its head from the side of its body.
It was a doe.
It lifted its head and stood carefully, a little wobbly at first, then with
more stability. As the doe looked to me, I smiled.
It’s like Snape’s Patronus.
The doe’s eyes were like little green beads. I watched it as it trotted off my
hand and around in the air, circling down to the floor. Behind it, it left a
trail of small lights that floated down to the blackened carpet. It slowed to a
stop once it reached the ground and turned to face the little lights. It shook
its head, and the little lights opened up, revealing petals; tiny flowers.
I smiled bigger. It’s not Snape. It’s my mom.
The doe curled up once more and vanished, leaving its flowers behind.
My mom left, too, I thought. But she also left behind her trail of flowers.
With a sigh, I let my thoughts gather and take control once more.
Problems that need solving:
#1: No change.
#4: No change.
#5: Tom kissed me AGAIN.
I’ve at least got some reasoning behind the first kiss and sorted out my own
thoughts. Now, I just had to talk to Tom and get some answers. Did he want to
control me, or kiss me? He couldn’t have both. I wouldn’t let him have both. In
fact, I don’t think I would let him control me, either. Just kiss me.
I let that thought sink in.
Bloody fucking hell, I want him to kiss me.
#5: Screwed.
I ran a hand over my face. And this day had started off so well…what the fuck
happened?
===============================================================================
Voldemort’s_POV:
Harry had disapperated, and I was left alone with my own mutinous mind. I was
almost certain he had returned to his room here, but I did not dare go after
him.
Why waste the time? He will only continue to yell and ask questions you do not
have the answer to.
I did not leave the table for a few minutes. I did not feel I was able to.
Have I just made a mistake? I knew that Harry did not and would not enjoy it,
and yet I still made him kiss me.
Nothing about my actions over dinner were predictable. Not my answers, not my
confession, not the kiss. None of it had been planned. In fact, much of it
seemed out of character. Dark lords do not confess. A dark lord would not even
be tempted to confess. A dark lord also would not feel the way I had while
Harry asked those questions.
I was lost. I was nervous. I was anxious and unsure. I wanted nothing to do
with those emotions, but they still hung over me, even though Harry was gone.
I could feel bits of anger overflow from Harry’s mind.
He deserves to be angry. I would be.
I stood and began to walk to my room, thoughts of sleep entering my mind. It
was still early in the evening, but the idea of escape was all too easy to give
into.
As I turned down my hallway, my hand reached out and caught a bottle of calming
draught I had not realized I summoned. With ease, I drank it, feeling my mind
glaze over with the false serenity.
All except for the anger Harry felt.
I opened my door and stepped inside, mental exhaustion washing over me.
Why, I thought, are emotions so incredibly difficult to handle? Especially
those that are not your own…
I did not bother changing into sleeping clothes. The effort was too much.
Instead, I let myself rest on my bed, closing my eyes and feeling Harry’s
overabundant anger.
And just as quickly as it was there, it was gone. I did not wonder if he
stopped feeling angry or simply put up mental barriers. My mind was entirely
calm, and I fell asleep almost instantly.
I slowly awakened some time later, letting the world materialize around me. I
was on top of my sheets, still wearing my robes, had not even brushed my teeth.
I had been so careless with myself in such a long time.
My internal clock was sure it was not yet time for breakfast, and when I opened
the door to the hallway, the level of darkness confirmed it.
It seems it is barely early morning. The sun has not even risen. I do not feel
I am able to sleep, so how shall I occupy my time?
I walked out into the hallway and took the familiar path to the library, intent
on reading until it was time for breakfast. I passed through the archway and to
the door to the library when I saw movement in my peripherals. I turned and
found the barely luminated figure of Harry staring back at me from the doorway
to the sitting room.
We did not move, holding one another’s gaze. His eyes, not too far off bright
green in the darkness of the hallway, refused to let me go. It was a kind of
Priori Incantatem that did not require wands, or even magic. We stood and
stared, unwinning. Both sides finding they were slowly losing.
I stared at him and saw the features of his face in pieces and then all at
once, forming a familiar and yet new appearance. In my chest, I felt my great
determination begin to fall. Yes, I had a mastery of dark and ancient magic,
but Harry had mastery of something else entirely. I would admit that I had not
been the same since he first arrived here, although I could not for the life of
me explain why. There were pieces of him that I would never understand.
And there were many I would never cease desiring.
Without breaking contact, I took a step towards Harry. Sensing the challenge,
Harry stepped forward as well. I took another step, and Harry followed suit.
In no time, we were before each other, eyes still locked. I had not intended to
become so close, as we had, but I would not dare back down now. I could see the
determination in Harry’s features, the challenge, the fierce bravery—all his
strong suits, of course. They filled him with an intoxicating glow. Yes, I
admired his green eyes, but more so, I admired his black-rimmed glasses that
seemed to magnify them, the unruly black hair that swept over his forehead, the
scar hiding underneath that I put there so long ago, marking him as my equal.
My equal…
I lifted my hand and gently held his chin, almost as I had earlier, but
lighter. Harry was a wild force, one that I had intended to conquer for most of
my unhuman life. I wanted to control him, to rule over him. It seemed that I
had forgotten that we were equals. Such a quest was impossible.
Rather than force his face to mine, I brought mine to his in a gentle embrace.
With eyes closed, I felt the moment of absolve and pleasure, my lungs and heart
slowing to a near stop. Harry did not pull away, as I had feared he would.
Still, I implored his mind.
‘This is wrong,’ it thought.
I released his chin and pulled my face away, but Harry grabbed my robes and
pulled me back. He pressed his lips to mine, and without conscious decision, I
took the invitation.
My tongue licked at his lips, and they parted. When I tongue passed through his
lips, I could taste him, sweet and light. The moment was full of feelings I had
been awaiting since the first time I placed my lips on his, and yet I grabbed
his hand and removed it from my robes, pulling away from the kiss with much
reluctance.
/If it is wrong, why do you sustain?/ I hissed, nearly smiling at the wideness
of his eyes.
“U-uh…” he stammered. ‘Good question. I have no idea.’
/Could you not help yourself?/ I teased in his ear.
“Well…I-uh…”
No longer able to help it, I smiled. So very articulate. I nearly went back in
for another kiss, but instead, took a necessary step back. He had questions,
and I was more prepared to answer them.
I did not speak, leaving the silence for Harry to ask something, but he did
not. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the shade of his cheeks.
Are you embarrassed? I asked, completely curious.
“No…” Harry stared at the floor. “Well…I mean…sort of.” ‘I really didn’t expect
you to kiss me again, much less have me kiss you back.’
I would not allow myself to step closer, although my mutinous body wanted to. I
wanted something from him, although I was unsure of what. I had believed it to
be submission, vulnerability, but it was not. I could not rationalize it, and
until I could, I vowed to keep at a distance.
Before I could commit to the vow, I was already closer to Harry, looking into
his eyes, large with the innocence of a small prey baiting a predator to
consume its poisonous flesh. Our foreheads nearly touched, our lips mere inches
apart. I wanted to take the bait, to allow myself a taste of the beautiful
poison before me. But another part, the part that feared death, held me back
with all its might.
Yet Harry pulled me in, plunging us into a deep kiss, arms wrapping around one
another to pull each other closer. I held back, not allowing myself to give in
too much to the temptation. I battled with myself, aware of my every movement
and thinking over each carefully. I pulled my arms from around Harry’s waist
and set them on the front of his hips, as if to push away. Although we kissed,
not once did I dare allow my tongue to enter his mouth. I was determined to
win.
And yet Harry made it so difficult. His lips moved against mine with such
silken ease. His chest pressed against my own so that I could feel the pounding
of his heart. It was all so much, and then Harry draped his arms around my neck
and let out a small, involuntary whimper escape from his mouth.
Never before had I been so willing to lose.
My tongue passed through his lips once more, exploring, as my feet turned us
gracefully so that we faced the opposite direction. One slow step after the
other, I drew us closer towards Harry’s room. In an unexpected twist, Harry’s
feet redirected us left, and his back pressed up against the wall. I pushed him
more against the wall and parted our mouths, trailing small kisses down his
throat. His breathing hitched and fluttered. I nibbled at a sensitive area
between his neck and shoulder for a moment before biting down lightly. He
gasped, and as I opened my eyes to see the expression on his face, I noticed,
instead, the trail of flowers that had followed us down the hall from where we
once stood.
No distractions, I told myself.
Turning back to Harry, I placed my mouth over his once more. The moment was
growing, although I was unsure with what. It was all perfectly enjoyable, and
yet I craved more.
‘Merlin, yes, more,’ Harry thought. And my fighting was over.
I pictured my bed, large and cushioned, covered in black silk. In moments, we
apparated to its foot. I broke apart our kiss and gently pushed Harry to lay on
it. I watched as he looked around, an uncertainty in his eyes, and I draped
myself over him to whisper in his ear.
‘Harry, I will not do this without your consent. I promise not to harm you or
force you. If you wish to stop, please say so. I don’t…’ I nearly stopped,
finding the words harder to find. ‘I don’t want this to feel wrong.’
Harry did not say a word, but nodded, mouth slightly agape and hands clutching
at my robes.
My hand wandered up his shirt, feeling the smooth skin of his stomach and
chest, and our lips met once more. Without realizing I had done so, I made
Harry's shirt vanish, along with my robes. Harry ran his fingers through my
hair, and his tongue plunged into my mouth, filling it with his flavor once
more. My hand softly glided over his chest and over to his nipple, which I
playfully flicked to hear him whimper once more. His sounds, just like his
challenging glow, were intoxicating.
My pants grew tighter as my arousal pushed against them, begging to be
released. I broke our kiss, and Harry inhaled heavily to make up for lost air.
I unbuttoned Harry's pants and pulled them off, along with his boxers. His
erected member was released from its prison. I gently took it in my hands and
brushed my fingers up its length. Harry's head flew back, the unexpected
sensation catching him, and his hips bucked, just pleading me for more. Without
hesitation, I lowered my mouth onto his tip and massaged it with my tongue.
Harry let out an airy moan that whipped through the air and encouraged me on
further. I took the shaft with my hand and covered the rest with my mouth,
moving ever so painfully slow.
His taste alone was almost enough to bring me to the edge, and yet a moan, high
and heavy, came from Harry’s parted pink lips, threatening to push me over
entirely.
“Tom.”
I removed my mouth and, with my tongue, traced a large vein on his cock while
massaging his shaft, then I released my own member and stroked it with my other
hand. The air was thick with our pleasure and the absence of oxygen. I could
hardly find new air, instead breathing in all of Harry, it seemed.
"Tom…I…Tom" Harry scratched at the sheets of the bed, his orgasm building. I
brought us closer and closer, every second of ecstasy less bearable than the
last. Harry's moans filled the room with music. "Tom…I'm…" Harry's back arched
and his cock released a sticky white liquid I had no problem swallowing. I
quickly finished myself off, coming with a soft moan and the same sticky
substance. I used a quick cleaning spell on my hand, then looked back up at
Harry. He was breathing hard, his eyes closed peacefully, a bed of flowers
around him. I smiled and laid next to him, a happy kind of sleep overcoming me.
***** Dimming, Dimming, Dark *****
Harry’s_POV:
I woke bit by bit, a smile on my face. It was the first time in a while that I
had slept without having a single dream.
I opened my eyes and saw only black. I stretched my arms and legs out,
realizing the tension was gone from them.
Wow. I slept really great. Not sure I’ve ever slept this well.
I sat up and rubbed at my eyes, still droopy with sleep. I went to swing my
legs off the edge of the bed, but found that there was only more bed. I scooted
once, twice, three times, but still did not find an edge.
With confusion beginning to bubble in my mind, I rubbed at my eyes again and
attempted to squint to be able to see clearly. In the dark and through my
terrible eyesight, I was barely able to make out black sheets.
Black sheets. Bed that goes on forever. That is not a good sign.
I looked down, and I was naked.
That is definitely not a good sign.
I kept scooting off the bed, and after several, finally reached the edge. I
couldn’t find a table or anything that could have my glasses on it.
“Accio glasses.”
My glasses flew into my hand and put them on, the world coming into dim focus.
Yep. This is Tom’s room. Fuck.
I stood and searched the floor for my clothes, but couldn’t find them anywhere
near.
Bloody fucking…
I stood, covering myself with a hand, and walked around the bed. I sighed in
relief when I found my bottoms crumpled at the foot of the bed and quickly put
them on.
There was no shirt with them, but I didn’t bother to keep looking. It wasn’t a
priority. If my assumptions were right, Tom had seen me naked, so not wearing a
shirt was nothing.
Tom.
I looked around the room, but he wasn’t there.
Well, it’s probably morning. He’s probably eating breakfast.
I went to the door and opened it, revealing the bright lights that mimicked
day. As I walked down the hallway, thoughts of last night—or, actually, I think
early this morning—flooded into my mind.
I let Tom kiss me, and I kissed him back. Merlin, I kissed him back a lot. I
fucking brought him to me. And then he had me up against the wall…then we went
to his room and…it was amazing.
I walked into the spacious room and sure enough, Tom sat in his usual spot,
eating breakfast. The smell of food, warm and savory, made my stomach growl. I
sat in my spot beside him, and Sadie popped in with a breakfast tray.
“Here be your breakfast, Mr. Harry Potter,” she squeaked.
I thanked her, and she popped away, a confused blush on her face.
As always, the food was delicious and unidentifiable. I shoveled what I thought
to be scrambled eggs into my mouth, but found that it was such a different
texture, there was no way they were eggs. I was done with them before I began
to wonder if they were maybe just a different kind of eggs.
I looked up from my empty plate to find Tom staring at me curiously.
“What?” I asked.
“You finished your breakfast.”
“Yeah…” I looked back down at the completely empty plate, then back to Tom. “I
was hungry.”
“I see,” was all he said.
Sadie popped back in and took our plates. She was gone before I could think of
thanking her again.
“So…” I began, my nerves thinning. “About last night…”
“Yes? What about it?” Tom glanced towards me, not meeting my eyes, but bare
chest.
“Well…” I suddenly felt self-conscious. “I don’t know, really. It’s just
you…and I…I woke up in your bed naked.”
Tom gave a soft chuckle, one that rang through the spacious room like a muted
bell. ‘So very articulate.’ “Yes, Harry. You were asleep, and I did not want to
wake you from what appeared to be a decent sleep.”
“Yeah, but…” I didn’t know what to think of it all, really. It was…weird. Last
night, everything seemed so different. Our emotions were high, and it all just
happened. Now, in the daylight, I felt so exposed and awkward.
“What was weird?” he asked.
“Waking up in your bed. I thought I was in my bed, but then I tried to stand
up. Your bed never ends. It’s bloody huge.”
“Well, yes,” Tom replied, eyes bright with amusement but face completely
serious. “It is a bed perfect for…a bit of fun.”
I felt my cheeks warm. I looked down and fiddled with my fingers.
Things were going to be different between us, and I wasn’t quite sure how. Was
it good? Was it bad? We were friends, but now we were…what were we?
“Tom?” I still did not look to him, but I could feel his eyes. Instead, I poked
at his mind, which opened.
“Yes, Harry?”
“What are we now?”
Confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well, before we were friends. Now…after last night…what are we now? Friends
with benefits?”
Revulsion. “Harry, that is an awful choice of words. Never say them again.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Okay, fine. Not that. But then what?
Tom stayed silent, but I could feel his thoughts being calculated. “Nothing had
changed, Harry. We have always been the same. You are Harry, and I am
Voldemort. That is what we are.”
I sat, letting my thoughts soak in his words.
That’s…such a cop-out answer.
Rather than reply to me, Tom changed the subject. “Ah yes, Lucius and Draco
shall be coming over today. We will be discussing some very important
information regarding the plans we made at the last meeting.”
Plans? What plans?
“Do not worry yourself, Harry. If you behave properly,” he gave me a stern
look, “you will find out soon enough. They will arrive in the afternoon, so you
should have more than enough time to find a shirt to wear.”
Oh. Right. I looked down at myself, nearly forgetting that I was not wearing
one. Tom stood and left for his room, so I figured I should do the same. I went
up the stairs and down the hall to my room. Of course, my door was locked. I
went to grab my wand from my pocket, but it wasn’t there. I sighed.
“Accio wand.” It took a bit, but eventually my wand came to my hand, and I
unlocked the door.
Once inside my room, I decided to take a shower. I took off my clothes and got
into the water, thinking I wanted the water at my usual heat. The nearly
boiling water hit my body, but there was no stress to melt to melt off, only
skin. It hurt more than it helped, so the shower adjusted accordingly, becoming
a bit colder than normal. When I got out, I felt no different than I had when I
went in, except that I was cold. I left the bathroom and saw my clothes folded
on the bed, including my shirt. I dressed quickly and looked down at my
clothes.
Time for a change.
I transfigured my dark green shirt into a red one, which made my eyes brighter
in contrast, and my black jeans into normal blue ones.
I still had so much before I had to go the meeting, but I hadn’t the slightest
idea what to do.
Well, maybe I should work on those spells Tom taught me. He worked on the one I
gave him…
I began to make my way to the training room, uncertainty in my mind.
We knew what the other was trying to do. It was obvious. Tom wanted me on his
side, and I was trying to get him to my side; it was like some big, childish
game and not something that the whole wizarding world depended on. I mean, of
course I liked this better. It meant we didn’t have to kill each other. I
didn’t want to kill Tom. And I was sure Tom didn’t want to kill me. Instead, we
had checklists of things that made someone “bad” or “good” and tried to match
each other to those actions or feelings.
If I was honest with myself, I didn’t care who ended up where. It didn’t really
seem to matter; we would still be ourselves.
Or would we?
I couldn’t imagine myself being evil. Torturing people for fun, killing without
a second thought, harming innocent bystanders, not trusting anyone; that wasn’t
me. It never would be. Those things weren’t in my nature, and no amount of
breaking and reconstructing me would ever make me that way.
And then there was Tom. Tom could be so much more, but he let himself be
Voldemort. Voldemort was the epidemy of those things. Voldemort could never be
good. He drew his strength from being as inhuman as possible. He was bits and
pieces of soul, scattered about in the hopes of living forever. He was
followers filled with fear, unspeakable punishments, and unending misused
power. I could never hope of revitalizing any goodness from within his cold,
dead heart.
But Tom was not Voldemort. Tom had the capability to be anything he wanted. He
could trust, feel happiness, be charming, and probably most importantly, allow
himself to be vulnerable around others. I had seen that recently, although I
honestly hadn’t thought it possible until it happened.
Our intimacy was vulnerability. It could have been unfeeling and just for
pleasure, but something told me it was everything but. Tom had been trying to
control me, but last night he didn’t. He didn’t control me. He didn’t force me.
He asked for permission, in fact. Everything about it was enjoyable, and yet so
exposing. But he still allowed it.
What did that mean?
I arrived in the training room and pulled a rat from the large cage by the side
of the room. It panicked and squirmed in my hand, so I placed it on the floor.
It began to run away, which was making my job harder.
“Petrificous Totalus.”
I missed the first time, but cast it again and hit it right on its back. The
rat froze in place.
I thought through the many spells we had gone over, looking for one I needed to
perfect. All the curses really didn’t take long for me to learn. The problem
was my conscience interfering. There was one curse that instantly came to mind.
It gave me so much trouble because it was so evil-feeling, the guilt would eat
me alive before I cast it on anything that could feel pain.
I sighed, but tried not to let my thoughts cloud me for just a moment.
“Monstinnen.”
A somewhat-clear light purple cloud sprayed from my wand onto the rat, and it
inhaled it. I unpetrified it and placed it into an empty, smaller cage beside
the larger one. I sat on the floor close by, watching the rat move around, a
bit skittish at first, but eventually acting as if nothing had happened.
This had been one of the spells we had not used on Pettigrew. It had been awful
to watch the first time Tom showed me, and every time I tried to cast it
afterwards hadn’t worked. It was a horrible thing, but I wanted to see if I was
able to cast it correctly, just once.
A few more awfully anxious moments went by before I noticed the rat convulsing
and squeaking like mad. Then it stopped everything and fell to its side. I
watched in horror as its stomach began to move. A monster made out of the rat’s
own flesh and vessels ripped through the skin and exposed itself to the world,
bloody and full of spiked pieces of broken bone.
I shut my eyes, my stomach churning uncomfortably. I really should have waited
until later. I don’t want to lose the only full meal I’ve eaten in a while.
Soon, the monster began to shrivel up, its only source of nourishment dead. It,
too, died.
From beside me, I heard a hiss. I turned and nearly jumped when I found
Nagini’s face right beside my own, her yellow eyes trained on the dead mass of
rat guts in the cage.
/Your breakfast./ I told her, trying to hold down my own.
/Thank you./ she replied, nudging the door to the cage open with no difficulty.
I turned to look away as she swallowed the thing whole.
I stood then and left the room. I wanted to be anywhere but there.
It wasn’t even lunch yet, but I made my way to the private meeting room. I had
no idea what I intended to do in there, but I didn’t care. When I walked
inside, Draco and his father were already seated.
“You’re both early.”
“We would never want My Lord to wait for us,” Lucius replied haughtily.
“Why are you early, Potter?” Draco sneered.
“I got bored,” I said simply. I didn’t want to engage Draco. I was so close to
figuring out what Tom’s plan was, and I didn’t want to waste the chance because
of Malfoy.
Lucius stood. “I shall go fetch My Lord since the rest of us are already here,”
he announced. He gave a sideways glance at Draco. “Behave,” he said lightly,
then looked to me. “Both of you,” he spat. Then he left the room.
“So Potter,” Draco began with a smirk,” have you been bringing your girlfriend
over, or have you been sneaking out to see her?”
“What?” Where the bloody hell did that come from? I don’t have a girlfriend.
“Your neck.” He pointed. “It’s obviously not a bruise. So, which is it, then?”
My neck? I touched my neck where he had pointed and found it sensitive to the
touch. I gently pushed on it and nearly gasped. Thoughts of last night came
back to my mind: me against the wall, Tom’s kisses trailing down my throat, the
pain and pleasure of his bite right on that area.
Fucking hell. He left a mark on me…He probably noticed it, too. At breakfast.
And he didn’t say anything?
A part of me wanted to be angry, but if anything, I was turned on. But now,
Draco was questioning me about some girlfriend I didn’t have.
Oh Merlin, what would his face look like if I told him?
But I wouldn’t do that to Tom.
“None of your business, Malfoy,” I said, covering the mark, hoping my cheeks
weren’t as red as they felt.
“Oh really, now?” He looked so fucking pleased with himself with his smug grin
and blackmailing eyes. “I suppose I could just go tell The Dark Lord about it,
then.”
I thinned out my lips, trying hard to mask my amusement for irritation.
“What? No.”
“Then I guess it is my business, Potter.” He folded his arms, as if he had won.
My eyes narrowed. Looking at Malfoy made my fake irritation real. “I’ve been
sneaking out,” I lied. “I’d never bring anyone here.”
Draco shrugged. “Then I guess he’ll have your wand after I tell him.”
I balled my hands into fists, resisting the urge to challenge him. I have to
act like I’m losing. I have to act like I’m losing.
“But, you said-”
He scoffed. “I never said anything. So who is the unlucky girl? Not that
Weaselette, is it?”
I couldn’t think of a reply, but I didn’t have to. Lucius and Tom walked
through the door.
Why didn’t you tell me you left a mark on my neck? Draco’s been harassing me
about it.
Amusement (the fucking prat). ‘And what did you tell him?’
I shook my head and made my way to the table, everyone else following my lead.
He thinks I’ve been sneaking out to see a girl. He made that assumption all by
himself.
I took a seat in the golden chair, watching as Draco and Lucius stood by their
own chairs until Tom sat in his black one. I hadn’t realized that there was
some form of etiquette I was supposed to be following, but I supposed it didn’t
matter. I wasn’t a follower. They all knew that.
“Now,” Tom began, “let us discuss how we plan to attack The Order.”
“What?” My heart stopped, then beat twice as fast. “You can’t attack The
Order.”
Tom stared at me, eyes stern and unyielding. This was Voldemort.
“Harry, it is not an option. Our original intent was to attack them and
Hogwarts, but recent events have made such a plan idiotic.”
I narrowed my eyes and placed my hands flat on the table. “Why? They know about
our alliance. If you need something from them, I can go talk to them.”
“We do not wish to talk with them.” Tom put the tips of his fingers on the
table as if to punctuate the statement with the tap the movement made. “They
are an obstacle. We must erase them, so there no hope for muggles and
mudbloods.”
I fell silent, letting that statement sink in. You and your purist
bullshit…“For one, that’s impossible. You can’t kill all muggles and
muggleborns. That’s genocide. Two, killing off The Order won’t help you
accomplish that.”
“Both must be done. Harry. You know how awful muggles are.”
I shook my head. “No, they can be awful. But anyone can be awful. Wizards and
witches are that way, too. Killing them off doesn’t stop that!”
“They are the only thing that causes us harm. We need to rid ourselves of them
and keep wizarding blood pure.”
“What? How does that even make sense!” I was yelling, now, with no regard for
how loud. “How are they the ones harming us? Especially when you go around
killing them for no reason other than their non-magical blood.”
Tom placed two fingers to his temple and began to rub. “Enough. We are not
discussing this.” He appeared tired, but I could feel the anger welling in his
mind.
“Killing The Order won’t do anything! The Order was formed to oppose you doing
horrible things. You can kill its members, which I might mention include Snape
and I, but it’ll just get new members. Wizards see you killing innocent people
and realize they need to stop it. You can’t do anything unless you plan on
killing everyone on Earth!”
Lucius and Draco hadn’t said anything, but both stared at me, eyes wide and
mouths agape.
Tom held his head in one hand, not bothering to meet my eyes when he said,
“Then what do you suggest to stop The Order?”
“You shouldn’t need to stop it, that’s-”
“My Lord,” Lucius interrupted. I fell begrudgingly silent. “If I may offer a
suggestion, we could send Harry to talk them into disbanding. They trust him,
and we would not have to fear any opposition on their behalf.”
I hated the idea, but it was obviously better than the other option. I wasn’t
sure how I would do it, or even why I was considering the idea. There weren’t
only two options. I knew that.
Tom sighed. “I suppose that could be our first offense. But if it is not
successful, we will eradicate them.”
I scoffed. They’re not pests, Tom. They’re people. My friends, actually.
I couldn’t care less what else they had to talk about next. I didn’t want to
hear anymore. I pulled my wand from my pocket, disapperating from the room.
===============================================================================
3rd_Person_POV:
Harry landed in his room, infuriated with Tom.
How can he just talk about killing people like that? Like it doesn’t matter? I
would live through a lifetime of guilt and sorrow for even considering it.
He grabbed a pillow and chucked it at the wall, but found no release.
He apparated to the training room. Without hesitation, he levitated a rat from
the cage, petrified it, and began to send nasty curses at it, watching as it
squeaked in pain, unable to move. He did not think about the terrible things he
was doing, instead focusing on his anger, which bubbled inside him, begging for
a way out.
He finally released the binding spell, and the rat writhed on the floor, close
to death. Harry sent the monster curse at it, and waited, watching it feel the
pain a bit longer before Death would grant it escape. When the monster ripped
the stomach of the rat, the anger drained from Harry, and he watched in silent
shock as both died. When they did, he winced at the boundaries he had just
passed.
Problems to solve:
#1: I’ve just taken a big step backwards. Poor rat…
#4: Tom is going to send me to disband The Order, then kill them if I can’t.
#5: Tom…well…yeah…
Today just isn’t a good day for me.
Voldemort sighed. He was beyond irritated with Harry. He dared to ruin his
meeting by arguing with him, then left. They had important details to discuss.
He attempted to continue the meeting, but once more found that he needed Harry.
For this plan to work, they needed information on The Order. Draco, of course,
offered some, but only rumors and gossip, most of which didn’t matter. Harry
would have had the facts he needed, were he willing to cooperate.
He found Harry so naïve. He chose to argue over points Voldemort did not
consider would be argued. He presented them as facts, not opinions, and yet
Harry continued to challenge them.
Harry and his idiotic opinions, his irritating challenges, his completely
honest arguments that have no place here, that look in his eyes when he was
angry and how his hair would blow around ever so slightly, that mark on his
neck that marks him as mine temporarily, and the mark on his forehead that
marks him as mine forever…
“My Lord?” Lucius’s question brought him out of his thoughts.
“Lucius,” he began, “this meeting is helping nothing. We will reschedule when
Harry is less…temperamental.” He uttered the last word with disgust.
Lucius and Draco shared a look. Lucius then nodded and apparated away.
“My Lord, if I may, I have a private matter to discuss with you.” Draco stood
tall, chin up, but his voice shook slightly.
Tom did not meet his eyes, returning to rubbing his temples. “Yes?”
“My Lord, what if I told you Harry was sneaking out of your manor?”
So he plans to inform me of Harry’s “girlfriend,” he thought to himself.
Delightful…
“He would not dare.”
Draco let the smallest smirk come over his features. “Did you happen to see the
odd mark on his neck, My Lord? I’m sure you did. It’s hard to miss.”
“I did. What of it?” While he would normally be amused, Voldemort was too
irritated to allow himself such a pleasure.
“Don’t you wonder where it’s from?”
For a moment, he contemplated telling the young Malfoy in the hopes he would
leave the subject alone and be on his way, but he decided against it.
“I did, but there was no time for me to question its origin.”
Draco let his smirk grow large and obvious. “My Lord, I believe Harry may be
sneaking out of your manor to see a girl, who gave give that mark.”
He knew he should play along, but he could not bring himself to. “Thank you for
your knowledge, Draco.” He shooed him away with a hand.
Draco’s smirk fell. “Yes, My Lord.” He bowed and disapperated, leaving
Voldemort with his thoughts.
***** Beautiful *****
Voldemort’s_POV:
I had sat in my library for the past hour, a book on dark magical creatures in
my lap. An hour had passed, and still I had not flipped a single page. My
mutinous mind continued to wonder off topic. Try as I might, I could not focus.
I was at the mercy of my own thoughts.
I absolutely, unequivocally loath being so vulnerable, so weak. I could no
longer control my thoughts; it was madness. It was in my nature to control,
especially myself. It should have been simple, and yet it was not. I needed
something beneath me, quivering under my power, giving me that feeling of
absolute strength that I craved. Yet for some time now, that feeling was
growing further and further form my grasp.
There were many things that were resilient to me, but none like the stubborn
Gryffindor that was Harry Potter. He was at the mercy of his own emotions, and
it seemed that such a nature was contagious. With a full soul—nearly full—my
focus was swept away from under me, each feeling built up until I felt I would
erupt. I was angry, irritated, desperate for my old self.
But being intimate with Harry, having his feelings of pleasure at my mercy,
spending the early hours with him asleep in my bed, no nightmares, no
clothes…it was somehow both a feeling of victory and a feeling of
vulnerability. And my mind would dwell on nothing else but that conflict.
I had never been so bare to a person before Harry, literally and figuratively.
The parts of myself that I kept hidden away were parts he had seen. A part of
me wanted to rip his memory from his mind, to permanently silence his mouth and
blind his eyes, to forever remove the threat of his ability to share the
knowledge he has acquired on me.
Still, there was another part of me. It wanted nothing more than to dive deeper
into the chaos he brought, to see the parts of himself that he hid from the
world, to breathe them in and lock them away. It was a part that constantly
kept him on my thoughts, and that felt a small tug in my chest when he was in
my presence.
He is my last horcrux. Of course, I feel a tug. It is my possession. He is
mine. No one could challenge that. Not even Harry.
My thoughts were interrupted by the disturbance in the wards of my manor. This
was nothing unusual, for it was small: the entrance of an owl.
I am not expecting any letters. And I was not aware Harry was sending letters
still…
Curiosity and the desire for a distraction from my distraction led me to reach
my mind out to Harry’s. He did not have it protected, so I kept a safe distance
and kept quiet to remain unnoticed.
‘Oh. It’s a letter from Hermione.
Dear Harry,
We really miss you. We hope you’re doing alright. Things aren’t too bad there,
are they? You know we would have you out of there as soon as possible if it is.
Ron is doing better, thankfully. He doesn’t want you to be alone in this,
Harry. We’ve always been in this together, and it is just so different, for
both of us, to sit and do nothing while you handle it. We are here for you. You
know that. Take care. Good luck.
Love,
Hermione
ThankMerlin, Ron is doing better. I should reply.
Dear Hermione,
I’m doing more than alright. It’s not really that bad here at all. I’m not
saying it’s absolutely perfect here (oh far from it). I don’t agree with him
(at all), and there are times when I get bored here, and I haven’t been outside
in a whole week, yeah. But there are lots of things I enjoy about being here,
too. Like (hehehe, no, I can’t put that.) learning new spells, and looking out
this window he charmed to look out to the most amazing hills. The food is
delicious. And for the most part, Tom and I are getting along (more than you
can even imagine). I know you guys are worried, but I’m the only one who can do
this.
I’m so glad Ron is doing better. I’ll see you both again after school starts
(hopefully. What day is it? Merlin, school is going to start soon, isn’t it?
I’m running out of time.)
Love,
Harry
There. That’s good.’
I nearly found it amusing. His interjected thoughts while writing were…so very
him.
So, he is talking to that friend of his. The smart one. From what I can glean,
the other friend, the blood-traitor, is doing better.  I was unaware he
was…ill? They were very vague…Harry enjoyed learning the curses I taught
him…Charmed window?
The idea was confusing for just a moment before it became clear.
The window of the sitting room. He thinks it is charmed? How curious…
The other part of my mind, full of distractions, came to the forefront.
Maybe taking him outside, showing him the hills, shall ease the tension between
us.
My light sense of mood darkened back to the irritation it held before. I hated
the intrusiveness of the thoughts, how unwanted and uncontrollable they were,
but most of all, how absolutely right they were.
The meetingdidleave us in a difficult situation…
And although I did not want to admit it, I needed Harry. He was the key to my
success—to our success. He would be the reason I could unleash my power and
influence upon the world. I needed only to convince him to leave his humanity
behind.
Of course, that was only growing more difficult when I had my own to deal with.
I stood and walked to the door, tossing my book behind me so it would put
itself away. The hallway was dimming, for it was heading into the evening. I
made my way to the sitting room, correctly assuming it was where Harry was.
The door was wide open. When I stood in the doorway, I saw Harry, back against
the still blackened chair, half-slumped, staring at a small doe made of light
trotting across the floor. Many things about him did not look well.
Eyes reddened, I began to note. Unusually disastrous hair. Uneven breathing.
Slightly pale.
I took a silent step into the room.
What is wrong, Harry?
He turned his head in my direction but did not look at me. He seemed unfazed by
my sudden arrival.
“Nothing.” He sighed then rubbed at his eyes. “I was just…staring out the
window for too long. I don’t think I blinked.” ‘I was having a major thinking
session,’ his mind revealed.
What about?
The doe on the floor disappeared into nothing. “My friends. Family. Mostly
about going there.” He pointed to the window.
I see.“Would you like to go there?”
Although I thought the idea would perk him up, he seemed to pay the suggestion
no mind.
‘I’d love to, if I could.’
My brows drew together. “And why can you not?” I stepped further into the room.
“It is just outside. If you wish, I can take you there.”
Harry sat up straight so he could turn and look at me. His green eyes were wide
but not with surprise. His face was child-like with his large, glossy eyes, and
small pink mouth.
‘It’s just outside?’
He glanced back at the window for a moment before turning back to me and
nodding.
I went and stood before the window. It had been ages since I had gone outside,
as well. I did not have such a fondness for it as Harry seemed to. Of course, I
likely had more negative experiences outside than he. I was unsure what exactly
those experiences were, but I did not dwell on the lack of memory long enough
to question it.
I turned back to Harry and held out a hand for him to take. Come.
Harry stood and came beside me. He continued to stare out the window, not
bothering to grab my hand. With a roll of my eyes, I grabbed his hand instead.
“Pelure spettro.”
I stepped through the wall, my body easily passing through. I pulled an
uncertain and confused Harry after me. Once we both reached the other side, our
bodies returned to their solid state, and I let us float down to the ever-green
grasses below.
===============================================================================
3rd_Person_POV:
Dark indigo just began to color the sky, revealing tiny white stars that once
hid in the brightness of the cerulean, rose, and amber vastness. The pale moon
was just visible, still stalking in the leaving daylight like a cat ready to
pounce. The dew on the grass glittered, as if they stood in an ocean, each wave
sleepier than the last. The air around them was golden with silence and the
scent of wildflowers, drawing the peace and serenity into a bowed present they
did not wish to open. Each tree stood beside its equally tall shadow, deep jade
leaves, perfectly sound and still, the depth making the scene look like a
living painting.
He stood in awe. A thousand times he had imagined standing in that very spot.
Now that he was there, he was nearly sure he was dreaming. Of course, he knew
he was not, for his dreams could never be so peaceful.
Tom watched him, expecting excitement, or even just a smile, but none came.
Harry stood, staring out at the landscape, unmoving. Treacherous thoughts of
disappointing Harry ran across his mind.
“Harry,” he said so quietly, it was practically a whisper. “Are you
unsatisfied?”
At the break of silence, Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He took an extra second
to comprehend the words that had been spoken.
“I’m…I’m more than satisfied. I’m…it’s so…amazing to actually be here. I never
thought…”
His words were cut short by his own fascination with his surroundings. His only
wish was to absorb every part, every detail, of this world so that he could
keep it with him forever. He wanted to see it when he slept and when he woke,
when he cried and when he laughed. He wanted to look out that window in the
future and not just see the hills, but feel them.
Harry pulled on Tom’s hand, which was still wrapped in his own, and sat down.
Tom allowed himself to be brought down, his focus on his contact with Harry.
Their hands that neither bothered to separate. Their shoulders, brushing ever
so slightly with each breath they took. Their minds, not just connected, but
one.
Tom had not known of Harry’s enclosed childhood, but as they sat and looked
around, Harry felt the freedom and remembered all the times he had not been so
lucky to have it. Being outside and admiring the beauty of it all; Harry could
count the number of times on his hand that he had done so. But the number of
times he was forced to give up such a simple thing? He was sure he couldn’t
count that high. He wanted to enjoy the small luxuries he had never had, but he
knew The-Boy-Who-Lived was not allowed such luxuries, just as Boy-Who-Lived-In-
The-Cupboard-Under-The-Stairs was.
Still, he wanted them.
Harry’s eyes ran over the hills once more. Disbelief was still prevalent in his
mind. He was among the hills. They were just outside the manor. All the time he
had spent thinking such a place was far away, or nonexistent, but there had
only been a plane of glass between him and it the whole time.
A smile finally graced his lips. He was content with this life.
“Hey, Tom.”
Tom turned his gaze to Harry. “Yes, Harry?”
A curious question danced on his tongue. “The window shows that it’s autumn,
but here it’s spring. Why?”
Tom looked back out to the hills. “Generations before you and I were born, an
ancestor of mine enchanted the land so that it was always spring. Of course,
the window does not know that. It shows the season that should be occurring.”
Harry nodded. Although his dreams of floating leaves were dashed, he couldn’t
help but let his disappointment go. The sleeping wildflowers and moonlit trees
were anything but disappointing. In a world of such vivid color, memories of
his earlier life, so much weaker in saturation, settled somewhere in the back
of his mind, temporarily forgotten.
Tom, however, grew bored of watching the hills and trees and turned his
attention to Harry instead. His raven hair melted into the darkened sky behind
him, green eyes shone in the moonlight like stars, pale face was half covered
in shadows. He admired Harry as Harry admired the hills, and just like Harry,
he found every piece absolutely beautiful.
Their hands. Their shoulders. Their minds.
He looked down to their intertwined hands and wondered how such a warmth could
pass between two people with so little contact. The night air was still, but
chilly, and yet Tom could not feel a bit of it biting at him. It was a kind of
magic he could not understand.
Harry’s earlier question ran across his mind. What are we? It was a good
question in the sense that Tom could not provide an answer right away. The more
he considered it, the more he realized that he was just happy that Harry had
not pushed him away. He realized, of course, that such an idea meant something,
and he was irritated just a bit that he was unsure of what.
Tom wanted more of him; he couldn’t deny that. Still, the principle of control
came to his mind. He did not want to have such thoughts.
I am not homosexual, he told himself. It was true enough. He did not prefer men
over women; he just preferred Harry over people in general. And still, it
bothered him as to why.
The pressure was building inside him. He wanted to bring Harry closer, to have
him at his mercy, but also to control his urges and manage his thoughts. Both
thoughts collected in his lungs, making breathing normally a chore. He felt
Harry adjust their hands ever so slightly; such a small gesture, but one that
shook Tom’s bottle. His emotions bubbled up, intensifying the force that
opposed his self-control. Tom clenched his teeth as the urge came like a flame
that his self-control put out like the world’s smallest bucket of water.
Harry was torn from his trance when he felt Tom’s hand tense. He had almost
forgotten he still held it. Still, he didn’t want to let go, if that was what
Tom was thinking.
A memory rose from the fog of his mind: Tom’s arms around him in the darkness,
Harry’s hands gripping at his robes, the feeling of safety returning after a
terrible nightmare.
He longed to feel safe again. It was another small luxury he could not afford.
But as much as he wanted it, he didn’t want to admit such a petty thing to Tom.
He could only imagine what would happen. Hey, Tom, would you mind holding me?
Oh sure, Harry, why not? And while I’m at it, maybe I can completely change my
plans for the future so we don’t have to kill any muggles. Wouldn’t that just
be awful to do?
It was almost humorous to Harry. Almost.
“Tom?”
Tom pulled his mind from the internal battle he was waging.
“Yes, Harry?”
Harry didn’t know how to ask, or even if he wanted to ask. Instead, he looked
back out into the night sky and slowly rested his head on Tom’s shoulder, which
tensed underneath him.
“This is nice,” he said quietly.
Tom’s heart sped up. Why had Harry put his head on his shoulder? It obviously
meant something, but he didn’t know what. Was it a sign? A signal? He couldn’t
be sure. And normally, he was one who calculated every move to ensure as close
to a 100% success rate as possible, but through the adrenaline and confusion,
he made a decision anyway.
His hand rose and gently traced Harry’s jaw until it arrived at his chin, where
he lifted softly, thumb brushing against his lips. Harry met Tom’s gaze and
felt his heart skip a beat. Their mouths met in the middle and caressed one
another.
Tom pulled their lips apart but did not pull away. Harry rested his forehead
against Tom’s, eyes closed and breathing light.
“This is nice, Tom.”
===============================================================================
Harry’s_POV:
I wasn’t sure if Tom understood what I meant when I said it was nice, but then
again, it didn’t seem to matter.
Tom hand let go of my chin and went behind my head, pulling me closer until our
lips met once more. His tongue slipped past his lips and into my mouth,
exploring it with dexterity and filling my mouth with his flavor. His hand slid
down my spine, sending a chill down it, before it slipped under my shirt.
For a brief moment, I wasn’t sure I wanted what was to come, even if I wasn’t
entirely sure what it was. I knew I wanted comfort and safety. I knew I wanted
understanding and happiness and freedom.
The more Tom kissed me, the more our minds seemed to converge. I could feel
what Tom felt; he was, more than anything else, happy, but there struggle
inside him, too. Just like me, he knew he wanted this, but he wondered if he
should let himself have it.
I parted our lips, so I could breathe. My eyes flew open and met crimson ones
much too close to my own to see them as two and not one. There was a certain
feeling when we got this close. It was a pull, a warmth in my chest. Everything
was right, and it was that very feeling that both of us questioned. Neither of
us had been lucky enough to feel it before. It was too good to be true.
Tom tried to remove the hand intertwined with mine, but I squeezed it, refusing
to let go. He smirked at me, one piece of his perfect soil brown hair falling
out of place as he leaned closer to me.
/Intent on keeping my hand?/ he hissed in my ear. His tone was soft, playful,
and so absolutely sexy.
“Why do you want to let go?” I asked lightly, but the question was serious.
“Well, I suppose I can manage without letting go.”
He lifted our hands and kissed the back of mine, causing my pulse to flutter.
Our hands then traveled down to my pants. He rubbed against the growing bulge
with the back of his hand. I gasped at the unexpected pleasure and clasped our
hands tighter together.
I closed my eyes and focused on every feeling: every stroke of his hand, the
brush of his lips down my neck. His tongue traveled to the mark he had left
last time and he carefully licked at it. The sensitivity made my head spin.
Time meant nothing as we laid on the dark grasses together, Tom moving us so
that he was over me. We kissed and held hands that rubbed my now fully hard
erection.
In an instant, my cock was released, and I felt the smooth skin of Tom’s hand
against it. A rogue moan escaped from my mouth, and Tom pulled apart our kiss
with a smile. I opened my eyes and found my clothes were gone, as were his. I
watched as he parted our hands just enough to slip my cock between them. I felt
my head fall back with the rush of pleasure that soared through me. His tongue
continued to trace the raw mark on my neck, and my back arched.
I could hardly stand it. Everything felt so good.
I lifted my head back up slightly to look at Tom. His perfect hair falling out
of place, shadows over his torso that defined his abs, cock large and at
attention, the curves of his waist covered in moonlight.
It was all beautiful. He was beautiful.
Tom pulled his mouth off my neck and whispered into my ear. “Harry, may I?”
I was confused at first, but Tom’s mind supplied a quick answer: fantasies of
him inside me, of me gripping sheets and moaning his name, of pleasure like a
forbidden fruit that he had before never dared touch. My cheeks and cock rushed
with blood. I nodded.
Without hesitation, he released my hand and bent my legs into position. A
little red flag went up in my head. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t place
why. I swallowed and tried to ignore it.
Tom carefully pushed his way into my ass, and a searing pain ripped through it,
sending a wave of reflexive fear through my body. I shut my eyes, clawed at the
grass, and clenched my teeth. Everything in me burned and screamed, No, no, no,
no, no! A tear escaped my eyes.
Then, Tom pulled out and the pain stopped.
I opened my eyes, finding my vision slightly blurry. Tom looked away from me,
his own eyes damp.
‘My god…Harry, I’m so sorry.’
My body shivered with cold. We both felt it.
Tom sat back on his heels to move from his position over me, but my hand
grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back.
“I just need some preparation. It doesn’t have to hurt like that.”
Tom’s eyes stared into mine. I could feel uncertainty, although I wasn’t sure
if it was my own or his. Maybe it was both.
After a moment, Tom nodded and came back. He whispered something into his hand
and then pushed a slick finger into me. There was no pain, this time, just
discomfort that slowly faded as Tom continued to push his finger in and out.
Before long, he pushed another one in, and another one, each done only when my
feelings of discomfort passed. I was getting used to the sensation, finding it
was not so bad.
Tom’s fingers pressed in further, and without warning, a stab of pleasure ran
over me. My head flung back, and my hips bucked.
Oh, fuck.
The hesitation and uncertainty in our mind dissipated. Tom pulled out his
fingers, wrapped them around his own cock to make it slick, and then slowly
pushed himself into me once more. There was no pain, no discomfort. Only Tom.
He pulled out and pushed back in, directly hitting whatever magical spot he had
found. Another rush came over me, powerful and completely overwhelming. He
continued to move, in and out, getting that spot whenever he could. I tried to
wrap my arms around Tom’s neck, but his hand pushed me back down by the
shoulder. Thoughts of his fantasy came back to our mind.
My fingers twisted into the blades of grass and gripped hard. My breathing was
distressed, and my heart raced. Tom put his hand on my hips, letting him push
back into me with more speed. My pleasure began to build, and small, breathy
moans escaped from my mouth. Tom slowed enough to press a vicious kiss to my
lips, his own moan falling into my mouth before he pulled away once more to
speed up. Each feeling was so much, I was sure I was lost in them. The fresh
air around us grew thick, and I began to feel it.
“Tom…” I moaned. His name was all I thought. There was nothing but him.
“Tom…Tom…”
The edge was closer with every second. One of Tom’s hands released my hip and
grabbed my cock and began to pump. My moans became desperate and loud.
“Tom! Oh, fuck, Tom. I’m…I’m…”
I climaxed, and the whole world was black with the sweet bliss of release. I
opened my eyes slowly as the air returned to my lungs, finding Tom still
leaning over me, panting just as heavily, a white sticky substance over my
stomach. He waved a hand, and a cold, tingly spell wiped me clean. He then
leaned to one side and laid himself down next to me, eyes closed and small
smile on his face.
There were many things I admired about Tom, from the fierceness normally
present in his blood red eyes to the smoothness of his tongue as it spoke in
Parseltongue. He was brilliant, and although he had some moral issues, he could
care and trust. That was enough for me.
I had lost so many people in my life that I cared about. Each and every one was
difficult to cope with. The more I considered it, the more I realized that I
didn’t want to lose Tom. I had found a world that I enjoyed, and without him,
it would cease to exist. Without him, a part of me that I had lived with for my
whole life would be gone. It just didn’t seem manageable. I wouldn’t be the
same without him.
I came down from my high as I realized something.
Things I love in this world:
-Watching the leaves in autumn
-My friends and family (alive and not)
-Magic
-Riding a broom
-Tom Marvolo Riddle
***** Out of the Closet *****
Hermione’s_POV:
Each day was longer than the next while we waited for news from Harry. Ron and
I sat on the couch in the Burrow, Ron messing with his fingers and I watching
him with growing impatience. I was still so worried for him, and it was
beginning to fester into bouts of me snapping at him unnecessarily. We were
both on edge.
We both hadn’t quite gotten over Harry leaving like he had. It was a terrible
feeling, knowing your friend wasn’t protected and in the presence of Voldemort
all day. There was always the possibility that he could change his mind about
wanting to be allies and shoot a killing curse at Harry, and then who would be
there to save him? It wasn’t that I thought Harry was helpless, because I and
everyone else knew he was far from it, but he was in Voldemort’s territory. All
he needed to do was be caught off guard at the right moment with the right
tricks…anyone would fall victim to that.
Of course, Professor Snape had assured us that Harry was fine, but that didn’t
quell our doubts. It’s unusual for enemies—especially Voldemort, notorious for
his cold-blooded hatred and quest to kill Harry—to just stop and try to become
allies.
What is he hiding? Surely, he’s got some ulterior motive…
 Ron’s fingernails made the quietest click every few seconds. There was no
rhythm to it, or beat. There was no reason for it. The movement didn’t help
anyone. If anything, it grated on my ears that had relied on the silence to
think.
“Ron, honestly, stop twiddling you fingers,” I snapped.
Ron looked up at me, distant blue eyes coming back to the present, and lowered
his hands. “Sorry, ‘Mione. I just-”
Just then, my owl, Octans, swooped in and perched himself on the table in front
of us. I immediately pulled the note off his leg and read it aloud to Ron.
After I finished, I let my perfect posture slump back into the couch.
“Well,” Ron started, “at least he likes some things there. I wouldn’t have
thought he liked anything.”
I sighed, looking over the note one more time. Is there a secret code to break?
Is Voldemort monitoring his messages? The more I looked, the more it seemed
that the letter was just a letter.
“Yes,” I conceded at last, “but you know as well as I do that he’s just trying
to convince us that he’s alright. He doesn’t want to worry us.”
Ron nodded slowly. “But we’ve got to let him do this. Who knows what could
happen if we just walked in. We might ruin everything.”
I put the letter back on the table and began to absently pet Octans. “I
know…It’s just frustrating that we’ve got to keep hoping he’s not in some sort
of trap.”
A moment of silence passed, our minds whispering our darkest fears to us.
“Do you really think he’s doing okay, Ron?” I voiced.
Beside me, Ron shrugged. “I don’t know, ‘Mione.”
After another moment, I shook my head. Thinking about the worst possible
situations was not going to do anything productive. I picked up my quill and
another piece of parchment from off the table, dipping the tip of the quill in
ink, and began to write, reading the letter out to Ron as I wrote it.
“Dear Harry, Ron and I are happy you aren’t completely unhappy there. It’s
rather dull around here without you. Ron and I mostly just sit around all day
waiting for you letters-”
“Oh!” Ron interrupted. “Tell him about the quidditch game.”
I nodded.
“The rest of Ron’s family is concerned for you, too, but they’ve tried to get
back into their routines. Recently, they played a game of quidditch out in
their yard. Ron’s team won, but he said they’d have won sooner if Bill was
Chaser and not the Seeker.”
Ron sat up and leaned over my shoulder. “Tell him that as soon as he gets back
he ‘ought to practice or else Ginny might have him beat as World’s Best Seeker
soon.”
I smiled, my heart speeding up a bit at Ron’s closeness. “Ron says that when
you get back, you’ll need to practice, or else Ginny might pass you as World’s
Best Seeker.” I paused a moment, looking for things to say. I started a new
paragraph. “Luna thanks you for saving her. Neville, too. It wasn’t the
smartest thing to do, but we all know you’re the only one who can do this. We
miss you dearly. It’s only been a week or so, but it feels like forever. It may
be a bit much to ask, but would you consider asking Vold-”
I stopped mid-sentence, remembering Harry’s request to call him by his first
name. I crossed out the four letters and continued.
“Would you consider asking Tom to let you visit us? Or even let us visit you?
Just so we can make sure you’re alright. It would calm our nerves.”
I read the note over again in my head and nodded.
“Love, Hermione. What do you think, Ron? Is that good?”
Ron nodded, the smallest smile on his face.
I foled up the note and tied it back to Octans’s leg. He flew off, leaving Ron
and I alone on the couch once more. I laid my head on his shoulder.
Ron huffed. “What are going to do, ‘Mione?”
In all honesty, I didn’t have an answer that I felt was satisfying. “We’ll wait
until school starts. Harry said he would be there. And even if he’s not, at
least we can always ask Professor Snape to make sure he’s alright. It’s all we
can do.”
We stared out the window Octans had left out of, noticing the coming twilight.
Without my noticing, Mrs. Weasley came into the room and placed one hand on
Ron’s shoulder and the other on mine. Her face was tired, but her eyes were as
nurturing as ever.
 “Are you two sure you don’t want to sleep yet?” She asked us quietly. “It’ll
be hours before Harry replies. You both need rest, and it’s late.”
I lifted my head off Ron’s shoulder and turned to face her. “No thank you, Mrs.
Weasley. We really just want to wait for Harry to reply, if that’s alright.”
With some hesitation, she nodded and left the room.
With her off to sleep, the house around us fell into its normal night rhythms:
the creaking of the floor, the muffled breathing and snores of the family
asleep, the chirp of insects outside. A cold breeze drifted over me, and I
shivered. Ron put his arms around me without a second thought, protecting me
from the outer cold, but I still felt the cold inside.
It was like we were mourning for Harry. We knew he was still alive, of course,
but even Professor Snape mentioned that the task was dangerous. Harry was
risking it all this time: his life, his freedom, his morality. Although he
hadn’t said it bluntly, Professor Snape implied that Harry could lose. I had
wondered what exactly that meant ever since.
What would we do without Harry? I knowwewouldn’t stop fighting, but how many
others would? How many people rely on Harry as their beacon of hope? How many
reply on him to beat the Dark Lord because he’s prophesized to do so? I know
he’s supposed to be some sort of leader, but surely he’s not the only one. And
if he does win, what does that mean for Voldemort? Will his followers lose
hope? Or will they keep fighting, just as we would in their situation?
The questions were endless. We thought the situation was different now, that
maybe if they weren’t trying to kill one another there wouldn’t be a battle.
But all these questions made it seem like nothing had changed. Each side still
fought for its life.
“What if Harry is in trouble, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, breaking my chain of thought.
“We can’t do anything about it. No one can.”
I shook my head. “We have to think about this logically. If Harry was in
trouble, he’d send for help. We know he’s probably not as good as he says he
is, but he doesn’t seem to be in any kind of trouble.”
“I don’t know…” Ron’s arms around me slackened. “This is You-Know-Who we’re
talking about. He could be stopping him from asking for help.”
“It’s a possibility, but do we have any reason to think he is? Professor Snape
said-”
Ron scoffed and released me. “Snape. Everything we know about Harry is from
Snape. We don’t know anything other than what he’s told us. How do we know he
isn’t on the plan, too? He’s never liked us or Harry, and he murdered
Dumbledore. Who’s to say we should trust him?”
I let my head fall back onto the couch. Everything Ron was saying had already
crossed my mind a couple days ago. I told him the same things I told myself.
“Harry said we should trust him. Harry told us to keep him safe because he
betrayed V-Voldemort. Snape made him mortal. There’s no possible way that
Voldemort would let that happen, or even let people think that happened. I
don’t know what side Snape is on, but he at least has some sort of plan that
benefits Harry in some way.”
At this, Ron sighed heavily. With no retort, Ron fell back into silence, as did
I.
Ron had come a long way from the boy I had known first year. Back then, he’d
have figured out some way to find Harry and bust him out of this situation. He
had freed Harry from his aunt and uncle’s house second year using a flying car.
He stood on an injured leg between who he thought was a murderous criminal and
Harry, saying he would die before he let Harry get hurt. He trusted Harry and
followed him right into a trap but fought off Death Eaters anyway. Ron was
always there for Harry, readily providing his bravery and loyalty, not caring
whether or not it was necessary.
But things had grown more complicated since then. We weren’t kids anymore. The
threat of death was real, not just an afterthought. We had to plan to keep our
loved ones safe. There was no charging in headfirst.
The chirping of insects outside paused after a distant click rang out. I sprang
to my feet as quietly as I could manage, my ears listening intently for any
more unusual sounds. My heart beat in my chest, the pumping filling my ears.
Ron stared at me with confusion but said nothing for a moment. When moments
later, I still had heard nothing, he whispered.
‘What is it, ‘Mione?’
‘I heard something outside.’
Without further conversation, we both grabbed our wands and went to the front
door. I silenced the door to keep it from creaking as we opened it. Outside,
there was nothing out of the ordinary. The grasses were undisturbed and the
moon hung low in the sky.
But the silence was deafening.
I raised my wand. “Homenum Revelio!”
My spell shot out and a signifier flew into the sky from the tall plants a
little ways away. I narrowed my eyes at it.
“Accio.”
A black figure was pulled forward into the shorter grasses and then just before
the porch. He dusted off his robes a moment before he looked up to us, the
moonlight revealing his face.
“Ms. Granger, I would prefer if you never did that again,” Professor Snape’s
monotone voice said.
“Professor Snape?” The darkness made it difficult to distinguish his
expression. “Why are you here? Is something wrong?”
He began to make his way over to us. “I went to check on Harry. When I arrived,
there was not a soul inside the manor anywhere. Neither Voldemort or Harry were
there. I sent my Patronus to Harry, but he has yet to respond. I fear something
has happened, though I am not sure. Have you gotten word from him recently?”
My heart froze in my chest. “Uh…yes, we just got an owl from him today. He said
everything was going fine, but that was earlier…” I looked to Ron, whose pale
face and fearful eyes looked as worried as I felt. I glanced back to the
professor. “What do we do?”
Professor Snape looked between us. “For one, we must not contact The Order. Do
not inform your family. I fear their interference may contaminate everything. I
am going to investigate. If you hear word, alert me immediately.”
“No, we’re going with you,” Ron said. “If anyone knows Harry, we do. We can
help.”
“Please, Professor,” I added, desperate to do something. If Harry was in
danger, I’d never forgive myself for just standing idly by. “More people means
quicker searching.”
Professor Snape’s face fell into the expression it had when someone gave a
wrong answer in class, but his response held none of the refusal I thought it
would.
“I suppose…but you shall follow every bit of instruction I give you down to the
last detail. There is no room for mistakes.”
“Yes, Professor,” Ron and I agreed in unison.
He nodded once and turned, walking away from the wards of the Burrow. We
followed him until he stopped. Without any words, we grabbed onto his robes and
disapperated.
===============================================================================
3rd_Person_POV:
Snape, Hermione, and Ron arrived in the spacious room. The two students looked
about the room in awe, amazed that such an evil person could have such a house.
“Now,” Snape began, turning towards them. “You both will search the hallway
upstairs, as that is the one that contains Harry’s room. It is at the end.
Every door is likely to be locked. Look for anything suspicious. The manor is
typically tidy, so even a single item out of line may be a clue. If you happen
to find Voldemort before you find Harry, do not attack him, but be prepared
with a strong counter curse. You are allowed to apparate and disapperate, but
once you leave the manor, you will be unable to apparate inside. I would
strongly suggest leaving if you encounter anyone besides Harry. Use Patronus to
contact me. Is that clear?”
Ron and Hermione nodded. Their faces turned to the one staircase, and they made
their way towards it without hesitation, wands at the ready.
They stepped into a dark hallway, the balls of light above them barely lit.
It seems to dull and drab, Hermione thought. “Lumos.”
The tip of Hermione’s wand illuminated the hall, revealing many closed doors
and one open one.
“I’ll check the room with the door open, first,” Hermione said, voice quiet but
assertive. “You go check Harry’s room.”
Ron nodded. They walked down the hall together until they reached the doorway
to the sitting room. They stopped in their tracks, their hearts dropping to
their stomachs. Hermione sent off a Patronus to Snape that was not quite its
normal, solid form.
Downstairs, Snape had just finished checking the first room in Tom’s hallway
when the vaguely otter form found him.
“Professor! There’s a room with an open door, but everything is burnt!
Something awful seems to have happened!”
He rolled his eyes. He supposed he should have mentioned the scorch marks
before setting them out to investigate. He quickly sent back his reply.
Moments later, the doe appeared upstairs before Hermione and Ron, both on the
verge of tears.
“That was a pervious occurrence. Harry was in that room and accidently set fire
to it. I was there to witness his injured state, as well as his recovery. The
room has not yet been repaired.”
The doe vanished before them, leaving them confused but no longer panicked.
“This happened before…” Hermione said absently, more to herself than to Ron.
“Harry recovered…this already happened.”
Ron nodded. “Alright…I’ll-I’ll go check his room, then.”
His legs, a bit unsteady, carried him to Harry’s room. Hermione stood in the
doorway a bit longer before making her way to the first door in the hallway to
check it.
Snape had made little progress in Tom’s hallway. Several of the rooms had
special wards and charms that he did not know, preventing a simple unlocking
charm from opening them. He’d skipped past quite a few rooms, the frustration
inside him building. He considered the idea that Harry could be in danger
behind any one of the unlockable doors, but pushed those thoughts aside in
favor of continuing his search.
He wasn’t as concerned that Tom was going to harm Harry (although he hadn’t
ruled it out as a possibility), but more that one of his Death Eaters would,
and that Tom would do nothing to stop it.
He stepped out of the private meeting room, finding nothing out of place. The
only door left to search behind was Tom’s bedroom. He was sure there would be a
severe amount of warding over it, but he tried a simple unlocking charm
regardless. The door unlocked, to his surprise, and he stepped through the
threshold into the darkness.
“Lumos maxima.”
Snape’s wand tip illuminated, brightening nearly the whole room. Tom stood
before him in his sleeping clothes.
“Severus,” Tom said, voice heavy with sleep, “what on Earth are you doing?”
Snape flicked his wand, sending a Patronus to the students upstairs, letting
them know where he was and who he had found.
“Where is Harry?” Snape asked immediately. “I came earlier and neither of you
were here.”
A small rustling behind him caused Tom to hiss a curse. “You just startled his
sleep,” he said through his teeth.
Hermione and Ron ran down the hallway as fast as they could, panic welling up
inside them once more. They weren’t sure if finding Voldemort was a good or bad
clue, but it was something. They arrived, standing just behind Snape.
“We’re here, Professor,” Ron said to him, although their running feet had been
loud enough for the whole manor to hear.
“You invited Harry’s friends to my manor?” Tom asked, running a cool hand over
his forehead. “You know I do not allow guests I do not invite myself.”
The pair both watched Voldemort. They both questioned his appearance, wondering
if this man could be Voldemort. It seemed unlikely to them, and yet he seemed
to be the only one there besides them.
When they realized Snape said nothing in response, they turned their attention
to him instead.
“Professor?” Hermione questioned. For a moment, she entertained the thought
that he was under a body-bind curse, but Snape’s slightly agape mouth moved to
speak.
“Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, it seems there has been a…misunderstanding.” His
normal monotone voice was quiet, as if uncertain of its pitch.
“What do you mean?” Ron lowered his wand. He and Hermione both stared at Tom
once more, hoping he would answer their question, since Snape did not.
From the comfortable blackness of sleep, Harry rose, several familiar voices
rousing him. He thought he was in a dream until his eyes opened. Blurry figures
stood before him. Before he could try to reach for his glasses, he felt them
land in his hand.
Snape, Hermione, Ron, and Tom all came into focus. With a confused smile, Harry
pushed himself up in bed before realizing how much of a mistake that was. The
sheets fell to his hips, revealing his bare torso. He was naked in Tom’s bed.
‘Damn it, Tom!’ He thought. ‘You couldn’t put some clothes on me before you let
them in?’
‘I did not let them in,’ Tom thought back.‘They barged in without warning. I
only had time to stand and prepare myself for a possible attack.’
At the sight of Harry’s bare chest, Snape flicked away the light at the tip of
his wand, letting the room fall into darkness once more. “There is…explaining
to be done.” His eyes looked to the ground. “As soon as Harry is ready to do
so, we will wait outside.”
Ron and Hermione, who could not see Harry from behind Snape, grew confused as
Snape ushered them out and closed the door behind them.
Once they were alone in the room, Tom lifted a hand, increasing the luminance
of the balls of light above them. “I apologize, Harry. I did not anticipate
this occurring.” He conjured up some decent sleeping clothes and levitated them
to Harry.
Harry began to dress himself in them. “What the bloody hell are they doing here
right now, of all times?”
Tom watched Harry as he dressed, tired eyes not bothering to hide their
intrigue. “It seems Severus came to look for you while we were outside. He
gathered your friends and were looking for you. I assume they thought you were
in danger and that my manor would offer clues.”
Harry scoffed as he struggled to put on the pants while still on the bed.
‘Yeah, and they found the biggest clue of all. Me, in your bed. Naked.’ He
finally got the pants on properly and crawled off the bed. ‘Merlin, how do I
explain that?’
‘You do not need to,’Tom thought back. ‘I can easily remove them from my manor
without harming a single hair on their heads. Is that what you would prefer?’
Harry sighed. “No, I’ll talk to them.” He walked over to Tom, his attention
focused at the door. “They’d have found out eventually, I guess.”
Snape stood a distance from the door, expression spooked. Ron and Hermione
close by, leaning on the walls, waiting for answers to their questions. When
they saw Harry step through the door and into the dimly lit hallway, not a
scratch visible on him, they ran to hug him.
“Harry, we missed you!”
“Hey, mate. What’s going on?”
“We were so worried. Are you alright?”
Harry smiled at his friends. He had missed them, too, but he wondered for a
moment if they would even talk to him after he told them.
“Hey, guys.” He let his arms fall from the hugs, and they stepped back to look
at him. “You’re…uh…not going to believe me when I tell you this.”
He could already see something dawning in Hermione’s eyes as they calculated
something. He’d come out of Tom’s room in nothing but sleeping clothes. Surely
that said something. He glanced over to Snape, who would not meet his gaze.
Snape already knows, he thought to himself. What does he think about it?
Of course, as much as he wished he could just let them have their own
assumptions, he knew Ron was as thick-headed as a troll, at times.
Harry took in a deep breath. “I’m just going to come out with it. Blunt and
straight. I love Tom.”
Hermione’s mouth dropped. Snape’s face paled. Ron’s face just grew more
confused.
“What? Why?” Ron looked between Harry and Hermione, hoping their expressions
would offer some help. “And what does that have to do with you being in his
room…” His question slowed to a halt before he could even finish it. He began
to piece things together.
Harry bit his bottom lip.
“Look, I know it sounds bad, but Tom isn’t all evil. He just…he doesn’t
understand the things that keep people good. He can be thoughtful and
observant, and we do have a lot in common…” he trailed off. His face was hot
with anticipation and unease.
No one in the hallway spoke a word. Hermione and Ron just stared, both in equal
amounts of horrified awe. To them, nothing about this situation seemed
possible. They came here to rescue Harry, but here he was, sleeping with the
Dark Lord. Everything they knew seemed to turn upside down.
Snape still stood further down the hallway. He stretched out one hand to hold
onto the wall for support. He wasn’t sure if the world was spinning or his
mind, but he needed something steady. He had never expected this to happen by
giving Voldemort his soul back. He wasn’t even sure how Harry would let such a
thing happen when he had such a poor experience with…sexual actions. Snape
would have expected Harry to be scarred mentally, but he considered the
possibility that he had overcome it. It still did not explain why Harry said he
loved him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the full extent.
The heat from Harry’s face began to spread through his whole body until he felt
uncomfortably warm. He had known this would be the difficult part, but now that
he was there, looking at the horrified faces of his friends, he wished he could
be anywhere but there.
“Well…” he began, voice almost too quiet, “I’m alright. You…you don’t have to
stay. You can all go and…” He searched hard for words to speak. “…absorb and
accept all this?” Harry’s gaze fell to the floor.
Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and nodded slightly. She grabbed Ron’s arm
and pulled him down the hallway to Snape. She grabbed his robes, too, and
flicked her wand, disapperating.
Harry turned and placed his forehead against the wall. He was certain his
friends hated him.
Tom stepped out of the room, then, and pulled Harry away from the wall by his
shoulders.
‘Harry, come. Sleep. They have left.’
Harry shook his head, but turned and allowed Tom to lead him back to his room.
‘They’ll never see me the same again. What if they hate me? I don’t want to
lose my friends.’
‘If they were truly your friends,’ Tom thought, shutting the door behind them
and waving his hand to dim the lights once more, ‘their view on you would not
change. If they do begin to hate you, shed them. You do not need them.’
They both got into Tom’s huge bed, making their way to the very center. As if
by habit, Harry lifted his head, and Tom placed his arm under it. Harry enjoyed
the coolness of the silk of his sleeping shirt on the back of his neck. It was
just enough to allow the unsettling heat his body had collected to dissipate.
Just as he began to fall into sleep, Harry had one last thought.
At least I’ll still have you, Tom.
***** Conclusions *****
Harry’s_POV:
When I woke up again, it was morning. I had slept pretty well, excluding the
fact that I had woken up in the middle of the night by Snape, Hermione, and
Ron, who found me naked in Tom’s bed.
Other than that, it was great.
When I looked around, Tom was gone already. I scooted for a while until I
reached the edge of the bed, which took a considerable amount of effort. My ass
was a bit sore, and although I hadn’t noticed earlier, I definitely noticed
now. I stood, and the soreness only seemed to increase.
‘Bloody hell, Tom,’ I thought at him. ‘Could you be a bit gentler next time? My
ass hurts just standing.’
Instead of an apology or guilt, Tom’s mind projected amusement.
‘Next time?’ he thought playfully. ‘So, you plan on such actions happening
again? Sometime soon, I hope.’
I smiled in spite of myself. I couldn’t see his face, but I could predict the
twist of his lips into a grin and the charm that twinkled in his red eyes. It
was his “I just exploited a weak spot in your argument” face.
I began to make my way to the spacious room, shaking my head. ‘Caught in bed
together last night and all Tom Riddle can do is flirt with me,’ I thought
playfully back.
‘What? Did you expect an apology?’ Tom asked, nearly sarcastic.
‘Yes,’ I answered, stepping through the archway of the hallway and into the
spacious room. ‘I did.’
Tom stood behind his chair, that same expression I had imagined still pressed
in place.
‘Very well, Harry. I apologize severely for giving us both an enjoyable night
of pleasure outside, amongst the hills you had so desperately wanted to visit.’
I scoffed, smile still trying to take over my expression. ‘You are a prat.’ I
was halfway to my chair when I realized he was not sitting and eating breakfast
as he normally did. My humor faded as confusion came over me. “Why aren’t you
sitting?”
Tom’s grin turned into a sincere smile. “I was waiting for you, Harry.”
I stopped just a few feet before my chair, a heat crawling up the back of my
neck. I hoped I wasn’t blushing. “Waiting for me? For what?”
“Breakfast,” he answered.
Tom flicked his hand out and my chair pulled away from the table enough for me
to step forward a bit and sit in it. When I did, it pulled itself right up to
the table, and Tom sat as well.
A house elf popped in and sat our plates in front of us before disappearing.
Breakfast was familiar, today: scrambled eggs, potatoes, bacon, and toast. I
smiled and began to dig in, finding the flavors ever more delicious that
anything I had attempted to make. I was a skilled enough cook just from
experience and negative reinforcement, but there was nothing short of
professional lessons that would lead me to make anything so tasty as the dish
that was before us.
We savored our breakfast in silence, just content with each other’s company.
Halfway through my meal, my mind began to wonder. It didn’t focus on any events
in particular, but on my life as a whole. I realized that I spent most of my
life unable to enjoy it, and when I was finally able to enjoy it, I was filled
with thoughts that it could be over at any moment. Both were the reasons that I
did not cling to life like I should. For such a long time, I had thought that
my life was nothing but something someone could use. My aunt and uncle used me
to cook and clean, beat and neglect. Dumbledore used me for his own agenda,
planning not only my life, but my death. At any other point in my life, I would
have let death come. If it meant something to someone, who was I to argue?
But now, I didn’t want to die.
The more I considered the thought, the more I tried to reject it. It wasn’t
some cheesy “I found the person of my dreams and found a reason to live”
cliché. If anything, maybe it was a bit selfish. I never particularly liked the
stress of having to be alive, but now there was practically no stress to it at
all. Yeah, I was in love with Tom Riddle, but if I was being honest with
myself, that wasn’t the reason I wanted to stay alive.
It was the life he gave me, the freedom of it, that made me realize how much my
previous life had missed. Sure, I wasn’t going on death-defying adventures with
friends, but I was safe. I wasn’t exactly allowed to go anywhere I pleased, but
I had access to many things I enjoyed, and I was sure if I asked, Tom would
provide me with whatever else I wanted.
But also, damn it, I was in love with Tom fucking Riddle.
I had always somewhat understood Tom, but being here, interacting with him
without trying to kill each other, it was something else entirely. We shared
our thoughts. We shared our bodies. Our experiences and differences brought us
to this odd place in our relationship. There were still pieces of us that
conflicted with each other, but we had something.
“Harry,” Tom said, breaking the silence and my stream of thoughts. “An owl
arrived for you this morning.”
I looked up, meeting his amazingly comfortable expression.
“From who?”
His eyes glanced back down to his nearly empty plate. “I assume from your
little friends who paid a visit last night.”
Oh. A wave of guilt washed over me. “Alright…Where’s the owl?”
“In your room.”
I nodded absently. I knew I still had to convince them, although I wasn’t
exactly sure of what. What did they think?
Surely nothing too horrible…they are my friends after all…They’ll learn to
tolerate it eventually…right?
I suddenly lost my appetite. I pushed my half-finished plate of breakfast away.
“Oh, and Harry,” Tom added, “We are having another meeting today. It shall take
place in the private meeting room following dinner.”
My shoulders tensed just considering the idea. After what had happened
yesterday, I wondered it he would ever have me at meetings again.
Why not just plan things without me? He’d probably have an easier time of it.
Unless…unless he changed his mind?
I wasn’t sure how likely it was, but I was hopeful.
“Okay. So…what do we do until then?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “We?”
A big, goofy smile came to my face, and I laughed under my breath. “Yes. We.”
Thoughts of the later meeting vanished from my mind, replaced with light
happiness. So much had changed in our interactions, it made my head spin. We
had a day to spend together as we pleased.
And judging by the growing grin on Tom’s face, he intended to spend
it ensuring we were pleased.
Tom pushed his plate away, and an elf popped in and took our plates away. He
stood gracefully and offered out a hand to me. I grabbed it easily, and we
disapperated.
We landed in a bedroom I had never seen before. The floor was a rippling blue
that looked like the waves of the ocean. The large bed had a birch frame that
matched its sandy silk sheets and pillows. The walls were pale blue with a
couple wispy clouds floating about. On the ceiling, birds appeared to fly in
the distance. It was like the bed was an island stranded in the vast ocean of
the room.
I stood and marveled at it. I’d never been to a proper beach, and even if this
wasn’t real, it felt just as amazing to view.
“Wow,” was all I could manage to say.
“I awoke early this morning to redecorate this spare room from the normal black
décor,” Tom explained, hands folded behind his back, a proud smirk on his
hardly-humble face. “I figured it would suit your tastes better.”
I glanced back to Tom, mouth hung open. “You did this? For me?”
He stepped closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into
a gentle kiss. In his arms, I felt weightless. Wrapping my arms around his
neck, I deepened the kiss.
/Of course,/ he hissed into my ear when we finally pulled apart, sending a
shiver down my spine. /Pleasure is about more than simple touching./
I closed my eyes, each S that rolled off his tongue loud and crashing, like
waves on the shore. 
/Pleasure is also visual./ Tom purred, /They say that eyes are the windows to
the soul, and for a soul to truly feel pleasure, it must witness the majesty of
life. Before you feel anything, I want you to see it; see pleasure, feel
pleasure./
I let out a shuddering breath. I wasn’t sure I was seeing pleasure, but I sure
felt like I was feeling it.
After a short second, my bearings returned, and I opened my eyes. “What
greeting card did you find that poem in?”
Tom gave a soft scoff but didn’t show any sign of being insulted. “No greeting
card. I have never touched the things.”
“Never?” I teased, only half-into it. The more I glanced about the room, the
more details I noticed: the distant island in the distance with a few palm
trees, the glittering shells and rocks that lay scattered beneath the surface
of the water/flooring, the depth and realism of the sky that made the corners
of the room disappear. “You’ve never read the heartfelt lines of greetings
cards? They truly touch the soul.”
Tom shook his head slightly, lips barely curved upwards. “I was being truly
serious, Harry. Do you not enjoy the room?”
There was another door—to a bathroom, I supposed—that seemed to hold a glimpse
of the curve of land covered in buildings and lights, the mainland, in the
distance. The wildest thoughts in my head wondered where in the world we were.
Where was there water so blue? Where was there sands so pale and seemingly
undisturbed? Where was the sun so bright and unhindered?
“Enjoy it?” I asked, finally turning my attention back to Tom. “It’s perfect.
Almost too perfect. Is this a real place?”
“It is, for the most part,” he answered, red eyes soft like the coral-colored
starfish I could just make out under the shimmering water near our bed. “There
is no island where our bed is located, but there is one there,” he pointed to
the other small island with the trees, “and the mainland is that way. Although
it’s hardly a main land since it is an island itself. That is Kauai, Hawaii.”
“This is Hawaii?!” I asked, incredulous. I had heard of it but never imagined I
could ever see it.
“Well, technically this is the Pacific Ocean. The bathroom is Hawaii.”
I was about to ask what he meant, but instead, I found my feet carrying me to
the door and pulling it open.
Inside was a world of greenery, from flowers and bushes to palm trees. They all
ran together so that their leaves all seemed to be shared: one big field of
green. Past the closest hill on the walls were more distant ones, just as green
as the next. If I squinted my eyes, I was on the edge of the cliff, overlooking
the hills, the sea at my back, an imaginary sea breeze flowing past me. It all
was so close to being real. I was almost there, and it was closer than I ever
thought I would get.
“Tom,” I breathed. My heart grew in my chest as if it would burst. “This
is…beyond perfect.” I turned around to look at him, and he was right behind me.
He wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in a warmth like the touch of the
tropical sun. I put my arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.
Everything after that was pure instinct. Tom's hand ran down my back, and our
tongues danced in each other's mouths. We began to make our way to the bed,
hands roaming over layers of fabric, then one layer of fabric, then pure skin.
I don't remember our clothes vanishing, but somewhere along the way they did.
His hand traveled to the small of my back, and he gently laid me down on the
bed, without breaking our heated kiss. I pressed my body against his, our cocks
rubbing against each other, creating such an unbearable rush of pleasure
between us both. Our hands explored, every touch going straight to my groin. I
was going crazy, and I wanted every bit of Tom that he could give me. I wrapped
my legs around his waist. He broke our kiss, murmered something that left a
cold and wet feeling on me, and quickly pushed himself inside my ass, going
straight for my pleasure spot. I moaned loudly, another wave sent through my
body. It was all so good, I couldn't bear it. Tom continued to hit that spot,
dead-on every time. "Tom!" I moaned. My mind was full of pure enjoyment, and
nothing else. I wrapped my arms around his neck again as my back arched and my
face twisted. Our bodies fell in sync with one another, hearts racing together,
lungs gasping for oxygen, the pressure within us building; it created a perfect
rhythm. I finally couldn't stand it anymore. I threw my head back, squeezed my
eyes shut, and let my orgasm loose. I released all over Tom, and he quickly
followed, releasing inside me.
We panted for a moment, relaxing after such a rush. I smiled and opened my eyes
to look at Tom. His chest rose and fell steadily, and his eyes fluttered behind
his eyelids. He hadn't pulled out yet, not that I exactly minded; it felt good.
Tom was so amazingly beautiful. I don't think I could think that enough. Tom
was SO amazingly beautiful. The way his perfect dark hair fell out of place
onto his forehead, how his fingers clawed at the sheets, and the soft look in
his eyes when he opened them. Tom finally pulled out, used a quick cleaning
spell, and lay down next to me. My arms wrapped around him, and my head rested
against his warm, comfortable chest. He was so amazingly beautiful; there were
not enough words in the English language to describe it, or possibly in any
language. He wrapped his arms around me, and we held each other. Nothing in the
world mattered. Not the ocean or the sand, or even Hawaii. It was just me, and
the divine, absolutely radiant man before me.
===============================================================================
 
_3rd Person_POV:_
Hermione, Ron, and Snape had not slept all night. After the whole predicament
with Harry, Hermione had apparated them back to the Burrow. They were all in
shock for quite a while, but once it wore off, they each fell into their own
feelings.
Ron began screaming on and on about how Harry would betray them, become as evil
as Voldemort, and murder all of his friends who got in his way. He stomped and
punched and grabbed at his hair. It took Hermione two hours to calm him down
enough to sit and stop yelling. He sat, muttering instead.
Í can’t believe that bloody bastard…” he began, his words trailing off into his
thoughts.
Snape, on the other hand, grabbed a bottle of fire whiskey (from where,
Hermione was not sure) and began to drink, not even bothering to grab a glass.
He decided he needed some “help” to fully accept the news. The burn of alcohol
down his throat, a turn-off for most but a reassurance for him, led to a freer
feeling; of course, it was his competent thoughts he was freeing himself from.
Hermione sighed and sat beside Ron on the couch. She didn’t know what to think.
She had mixed thought that conflicted each other terribly. As any rational
person would, she attempted to organize them.
First and foremost, we walked in on a very private moment. We never should have
seen that situation, even if everyone was properly covered. I understand that
Harry was, in a sense, coming out to us, and that is also a very private thing,
but to love Voldemort? Harry is a complete idiot for letting himself fall for
someone so evil. But…is it wrong to criticize someone for being in love?
Obviously, there’s something redeemable about him, if Harry even liked him
enough to get to the point where he could fall in love with him. But can he
love Harry back? He’s never even hinted that he’s so much as cared about
others, even his own Death Eaters. She bit her lip. Harry may be in more
trouble than we thought…
Snape took another swig from the bottle, lifting it high above his head until
the last drops were consumed. He not-so-carefully let the bottle fall to the
ground, still in his grip. His thoughts were beyond all logic.
Of course, I’ll be there for Harry no matter who he decides to love. That’s the
job. I do the brooding, he does the stupid, and we work it out. But
Merlin…Voldemort? How’d it happen? They don’t even have anything in common…
Snape’s eyes narrowed, the alcohol delaying his thoughts like sap over already
sticky gears.
What am I thinking? They have several connections. Their past. Their mind…How
did I not see this coming?
He lifted the bottle to his lips once more only to recall that it was empty a
few seconds later.
The morning seemed to arrive days later. By then, their thoughts had completely
drowned them all, forcing them to come to conclusions.
Ron was furious with Harry and decided he wanted nothing to do with him. In
fact, he would fight against him, personally, if it came to that.
Hermione didn’t approve, exactly, but she was sure her opinion didn’t matter.
Who was she to say they shouldn’t be together? She just hoped it wouldn’t hurt
him, which she supposed she would hope no matter who Harry loved.
Snape was completely shitfaced. If he had come to a conclusion, he couldn’t
remember it. The freeness of the alcohol had worn into the heavy hold of a
hangover. He was lying on the floor, stuck. Every time he tried to get up, his
legs would get pulled back down and his arms would give way. After several
unsuccessful attempts, Hermione finally just levitated him into the chair.
Ron’s face grew to match his hair, and he was ready to throw another punch at
the wall. “I can’t believe that bastard would stab us in the backs!”
Hermione sighed. “Ron,” she said, a hand on her forehead and exasperation on
the edge of her voice. She knew this would not be easy, Ron as stubborn as he
was, but she had to try for Harry’s sake. “Harry didn’t stab us in the back. He
loves someone. Yes, it may be You-Know-Who, but that doesn’t mean Harry will
become evil. He’s still Harry.”
Ron’s mudslide eyes dug into hers with an untamed ferocity. “How do you know?
He could be planning to kill us right now and you would still think he was our
friend!”
“He is our friend, Ron. That’s how I know he’s not trying to kill us. Nothing
will ever change that unless you don’t accept this.”
Snape groaned in the corner as the last effects of the alcohol wore off.
Hermione’s attention fell on him, her normally perfectly postured shoulders and
back slumping. She had known this moment would come, but she hadn’t had the
time to prepare for it. She shook her head.
What am I going to do with these two?
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