Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/350753.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling, Twilight_Series_-_Stephenie_Meyer
  Relationship:
      Edward_Cullen/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Edward_Cullen, Carlisle_Cullen, Esme_Cullen, Bella_Swann,
      Albus_Dumbledore, Bartemius_Crouch_Jr., Original_Characters, The_Volturi
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon, Crossover_Pairings
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-03-03 Chapters: 4/? Words: 5675
****** Whatever Weather ******
by rajko
Summary
     Groomed to be a vampire's mate since birth, Harry Potter never
     expected much out of life or his future mate, but all that changes
     when he meets Edward Cullen...
Notes
     This story takes place before and during the events of both Harry
     Potter (1-7) and Twilight (1-4) with some very notable changes to
     both. I don't do character bashing so Bella and Ginny will both be
     present and accounted for in this story. Many assumptions are being
     made about the vampire lifestyle in this story, up to and including
     how their powers work, as well as how the wizarding world interacts
     with it. I don't pretend that vampires (or wizards) are all sunshine
     and light and flower filled meadows. They're dark creatures and I
     intend to keep them that way, even if the Cullens are "civilized".
     Also, this is completely unbeta'd so beware.
***** The Incident At Godric's Hollow *****
The couple died in the early morning hours, their bodies icy cold and lifeless
by the time the authorities came. There was no signs of trauma, not tell-tale
wounds to suggest how they died. It was as though they had both just - dropped
dead of natural causes.
No one, not even their nearest and dearest, could understand how that could
happen. They were both too young and healthy. Even their neighbors, the ones
who looked out their windows at the faintest noise, could not explain what
happened at Godric's Hollow that day.
"It was just so shocking," Vermelda Hopgood said, face pale as she bobbed her
tea ball into her cup one last time. "I had just seen James and Lily not two
days past. They seemed fine. A little overworked, maybe, but just fine. James
had said they were planning to go on holiday soon. Somewhere in Scotland."
Looking to her companion, she shook her head, eyes sad behind her spectacles.
"They left behind a son, did you know? Little Harold. No one really knows whats
to become of him, though I did hear the constable say something about an aunt
and uncle. They're trying to locate them, I imagine. Poor dear."
Placing her teacup down, Vermelda leaned forward, nudging a plate of biscuits
towards her visitor. "Are you sure you don't want one, my dear? They're quite
good."
Esme Cullen smiled and shook her head. "No, thank you, Mrs. Hopgood. I'm trying
to cut back," she explained, fingers fluttering to her waistline. It was a
decidedly small one and Vermelda chuffed.
"Tsh, dear," she said, fingers sifting through the biscuits until she found a
large one. "You hardly need to lose an ounce." Taking a bite, she waved it in
the air in front of her. "I don't understand you young woman today, always
wanting to be bone thin. Men like women with meat on their bones; keeps them
warm at night. Gives them something to hold on to, trust me."
Another bite and she placed her half-eaten biscuit on her saucer, carefully
wiping the crumbs from her fingers. "What was I saying...? Oh, yes. The
Potters. Well, it's a tragedy to be sure, especially with young little Harold
losing both his parents at the same time. Poor boy. I hope they find his
relatives soon. I'd hate to think of him in foster care, though after looking
into those eyes of his I doubt they'll have any problems placing him."
"His eyes?" Esme prompted, expression strangely intent. Vermelda hardly
noticed.
"Oh my, yes," she cried, her own eyes crinkling at the corners. "Greenest eyes
I've ever seen, even compared to Lily's. They all but glowed when he was happy.
Had the cutest little laugh, too. Sounded just like James, now that I think
about it."
"How old was he?"
"I'd say about a year or so. It's so hard to tell these things," she mused,
confidingly. "I never had children, you see, so it's hard for me to judge, but
he couldn't have been older than a year. James and Lily - well, they weren't
around much until he was born. After that, they came and went but always seemed
to come back home."
Sighing, Vermelda took up the last of her tea, sipping it slowly. "It breaks my
heart to see them gone, but life has a funny way of surprising you, even when
you don't want it to."
"It certainly does," her visitor echoed, seemingly distracted before springing
to her feet. "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Hopgood, but I think I had better be going.
My husband and children will be waiting for me. Oh, no, please don't get up,"
she protested when Vermelda made to stand. "I can see myself out. Thank you for
the tea and for letting me know what happened. It was very...helpful. Thank
you."
Blinking, Vermelda nodded. "Of course, my dear. I'm happy to help. I do hope
your family decides to move here, even with everything that's happened."
The woman nodded, a tense smile spreading on her lips before she was out the
door and down the path. Vermelda sighed, warming her fingers against the sides
of her teacup. Perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned what had happened down the
lane at Godric's Hollow. It did seem to scare off quite a few potential
neighbors.
***
"We have to find him," Esme said, voice hushed as she stared into the distance.
"I don't care what that woman said about finding his relatives. We need to find
him."
"Esme..."
"No, Carlisle," she broke in, pleading eyes turning towards her husband. "We
have to find him. I know he's just a baby, I know we're in no position, but
he's all alone in the world. He's all alone and we could do something about
that. Please, just think about it."
"You know I will," Carlisle soothed, quietly. "I want him with us as much as
you do, even more perhaps, just to see my son so happy, but he's only a child.
How could he survive with us?"
"We could raise him..."
"Accidents happen," he reminded, expression kind but firm. "Even ones that have
nothing to do with us. Children get scraps and scratches; they hurt themselves
without meaning to on a daily basis. How would it be fair to bring a child into
our house when our own children still struggle with their control?"
"Edward would protect him," Esme denied. "I know he would. So would I. So would
you, and Alice..."
"And Emmett and Rosalie," he finished, pointedly. "But that doesn't mean that
something wouldn't happen. Harry - he deserves to have a normal childhood. One
where he can run, play, and accidentally scratch himself without fear that one
of his family members is going to lose control and hurt him."
"But," his wife protested, "we could try, couldn't we? I'm sure that Alice
would 'see' if anything horrible was going to happen and Edward would be there
for him. Together, as a family, I'm sure we could do it."
Shaking his head, Carlisle sighed. "It isn't that simple, Esme. You and I both
know that Alice's visions are subjective. If something horrible were to happen
and she didn't see it beforehand, she would never forgive herself. Neither
would Edward for that matter."
"But..."
"It's not only that," he interrupted, gently. "Harry deserves to grow into his
own person. One who isn't influenced by our own needs or," he hesitated, lips
pulling down into a grimace. "Or Edward's."
"How can you say that?" Esme exclaimed, golden eyes flashing. "Edward would -"
"Smother him," Carlisle cut in, features placid despite her sudden burst of
anger. "He wouldn't mean to do it, but his desire to protect his mate would
force him to extremes. It isn't like what we have, Esme; we chose each other.
Edward's instincts will be driving him, his love for his mate will be all
consuming. He won't have the control or the inclination to share, not when
Harry is so young. Don't you think that the child deserves better than that?"
For a long, quiet moment, his mate stared at him, her body taunt with protest,
before she shifted, shoulders relaxing slowly. "You sound as though you've
already made up your mind about this..?"
"I suppose I have," he said, fingers smoothing over the fringe of her blouse,
wishing there was something he could say to make things better. "It's for the
best, Esme. Even if you don't see it now, it's for the best."
Nodding slightly, Esme closed her eyes. "I just wish I knew what to say to
Edward. He's expecting the boy from Alice's vision to come home with us; he
doesn't know that Harry's only a baby. It'll be hard to watch him, always
waiting for his mate to be old enough."
Smiling, Carlisle pulled her into his arms. "He's waited this long, my love. I
don't think he'll mind waiting another few years. Not for Harry."
***** Little Boy Obliviate *****
The local constabulary was hardly the place for a child, especially one as
young as the boy currently residing in Inspector Cooper's arms, but that was
neither here nor there as far as he was concerned. The child was here now, and
it was his duty to make sure that the little one was comfortable until the
civil service matron came to collect him. Which should be any time now, he
reflected, shifting the child in his arms.
"I'm sorry about this, love," Cooper murmured, carefully brushing a stray wisp
of black hair from the toddler's forehead. An angry looking slash, jagged and
puffy, stood out in stark relief on the boy's pale forehead, a terrible
reminder of just how horribly wrong his young life had gone. "I'm sure the
matron will be around soon. She'll get you settled up nicely at the orphanage."
The sleeping baby gurgled, a small-confused frown fluttering over his features
before smoothing again. It tore at Cooper's heart. He'd been in law enforcement
since the end of university, taking the road less traveled by flouting his
hoped for business degree and enlisting in the nearest police training academy.
It had been hard - harder than he'd ever thought it would be - but he didn't
regret it. Not a single day, and days like today were proof of that.
What had happened to the boy's parents, it was a tragedy…and mystery. James and
Lily Potter had been the picture of health; young, agile, and in the prime of
their lives. There wasn't a single reason why they should be dead. Even when
they'd called in the crime scene unit, the responding officers cornered about
the doors blown off their hinges and the disquieting burn marks pockmarking the
walls, they'd found little more than a fingerprint, unmatched, in the entire
home. Print aside, the biggest pieces of evidence they had were the (possible)
victims bodies and their son, Harry.
Closing his eyes, Cooper sighed. It was a shame, a horribly bloody shame, and
the little boy in his arms was paying the price for it. Even if he didn't know
it yet.
"How's he doing, then?" A quiet voice asked from behind them. Turning, Cooper's
lips twitched into a crooked smile when he saw who it was: Gwen Donovan was a
junior PC-in-training. Blond, perky, and generally underfoot whenever something
was happening, he'd liked her instantly; preferring her spunky presence to the
dour old maids around the station.
"Not bad," he replied, eyes drifting to the wicker basket she held her arms.
"He was a little fussy earlier, but settled quickly. What's all that?"
"Oh," Gwen said, grinning. "I found this in storage. I thought you'd appreciate
it."
Without further ado, she set the basket on his desk with a bit more flourish
than it deserved. Medium sized and egg-shaped, it was filled with soft blankets
and a small terrycloth towel for a pillow. In the corner, a diminutive stuffed
bear with bobby hat and badge was placed, its brown bead-eyes solemn.
"It's just," she said, happily fluffing the blankets. "The CS matron hasn't
come by yet and with all the commotion going on in the streets, I thought it'd
be nice if you had something proper to put him in. It'd give your arms a break
anyway, and," she flashed him another grin, "everyone's tired of seeing you get
all soppy over him, Coop."
Rolling his eyes, Cooper stood, gently placing his sleeping burden into the
basket. "Very fun, Donovan. I'd like to see you spend time with him and not get
'soppy'. Now," he continued, once he was sure the boy wouldn't wake. "What's
this about a commotion? Please don't tell me there's been another waste
services strike. The last one nearly did me in."
Gwen shook her head, blond ponytail bobbing. "No, just some strange characters
seen around London, wearing capes and causing an uproar. There's been at least
ninety calls in the last few hours complaining about them."
"Odd," Cooper mused, scratching his chin absently. He had a days worth of
stubble, too busy with taking care of paperwork and a whimpering baby to have
time for his daily ablutions. "I didn't notice anything when I drove in this
morning. Maybe it's some kind of amateur theatrics? Is there a panto going on
we don't know about?"
Shrugging, the blond tucked a bit more blanket around his charges' feet. "I can
check into it if you like but I think it's probably someone having a lark at
our expense. One of those groups up at the university or a rally of some kind."
"Possibly," he agreed, leaning back. The chair squeaked beneath him, the sound
high-pitched and annoying enough to make him freeze and eye the sleeping
toddler warily. Little Harry sighed, lips smacking noisily, before settling
back into sleep. Cooper slumped, relieved.
"Check into it anyway for me, would you?" He persisted, more quietly this time.
"I might not be anything more than a glorified babysitter at the moment but I'd
like to keep my hand in. Particularly if the matron comes by soon."
Gwen nodded, eyes sparkling. "Need anything else before I go? Paper, ink,
coffee, nappies?"
Sighing, he shook his head. "Just the coffee, please, and let me know about
that panto, if there is one. I'd hate to write a citation over something as
silly as performance art."
"You've no culture," Gwen declared, before wandering off for his coffee and,
quite possibly, some nappies, too.
 
***
The stunned silence was damning, at least as far as she was concerned. Alice
Cullen stared at her brother, chest tightening at the look of confusion, anger,
and pain on his face. It was her fault. She was the one who had given him so
much hope, however unintentionally, and she was the one who had pressed him to
follow it.
"I'm sorry, Edward," she apologized, not for the first time. "If I had known -"
"But you didn't," her brother interrupted, haunted eyes drifting to her own. "I
saw as much as you did and I didn't think..." He trailed off, shrugging. "It's
all right. Maybe - maybe he wasn't my mate after all."
"Edward," Alice implored, faltering. "He's your mate; I promise you. It's just
that the timing was off, that's all. Next time I'll pay more attention; try to
figure out how much longer you have to wait. I'm sure it won't be long."
"That's right, dear," Esme exclaimed from beside her, tone decidedly anxious.
No one could blame her. Of all their family, Edward had always been the most
difficult when it came to the subject of 'mates' and 'love'. He had never
believed that he deserved either, convinced that his soul was lost the moment
he had been changed and this, Alice knew, would be the making of him. One way
or another.
"Only a few more years and he'll be of age," Esme continued, warming to the
subject. "It's not so very long and you - we can get things ready for him in
the meantime. I'll design a house. For all of us. Rosalie and Emmett, they've
been away too long, and we'll need to move in a few years anyway. It'll be
perfect."
"No," Edward denied, softly. "No, he's not my mate. Alice; she would have seen,
would have known, if this was going to happen. Whatever that vision was, it
wasn't this. It was just some, some, fluke."
"She doesn't have 'flukes'," Jasper interjected seriously. He was seated on the
other side of her, his hand resting comfortingly on her thigh. The strain of
their family's turbulent emotions was obvious on his face and even without
looking, she could feel the slight tremor in his fingers. "Alice may only see
snapshots, bits and pieces of the future, but only when decision are made. You
know that. This boy, toddler, is going to be your mate and you need to start
accepting that."
The 'now' was unspoken but definitely heard if her brother's face was anything
to go by. Alice sighed, laying her hand on top of Jasper's. He squeezed it
reassuringly.
"He's a child," Edward replied, standing in agitation. "Alice didn't see a
child. She -"
"I know what I saw," she interrupted, though not unkindly. "I also know that my
having this vision so early can only mean one thing: you're destined to have
him, whether he's a child right now or not."
Closing his eyes, Edward trembled. "I wish he was older. I wish he was..."
Here.
Alice was beside him in an instant, arms wrapping around his waist. "He will
be," she promised, hugging him close. "One day."
 
***
Jacqueline Jones, Civil Service Matron to the greater London area, had seen
quite a bit in her long life. Orphaned during the war, bounced from foster home
to foster home, she had seen too much, done too much, and been a part of too
much to be surprised. The fact that she was today didn't bode well for anyone.
"What do you mean, you 'don't have a baby here'?" She demanded, frowning at the
perky blond behind the police station's main desk. "You have to have one! My
office was called not two days ago about coming to pick the boy up."
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the blond said, voice firm but cheerful. "We don't have a
child in custody at the moment. Perhaps you've come to the wrong station..?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Jacqueline snapped, slapping her paperwork onto the
desk. "It says right here I'm supposed to pick-up a one year old boy, Harry
James Potter, at this station. Now," she squinted at the girl's name tag,
"Officer Donovan, I don't know about this station, but my office doesn't make
mistakes like that and if you think -"
"Is there a problem here?" A voice broke in, sounding authoritatively curious.
Jacqueline turned, staring hard at the police officer before her. He was tall
and lean, with at least a days worth of stubble and the kind of bloodshot eyes
she associated with long nights and little sleep.
"Yes, there is," she said, at the same time the perky blond said, 'no, sir'.
She resisted the urge to snort. "There is," she persisted, when the girl stayed
quiet. "I was told you had a child here in custody, a boy, and I'm here to pick
him up. I'm from the Civil Service Office, Matron Jacqueline Jones."
A look of surprise fluttered over the man's features. "Inspector Cooper, Matron
Jones, and I'm afraid we haven't any children in custody at the moment. Haven't
done in well over two months."
"That's impossible," Jacqueline replied, turning to scoop up the paperwork. "I
have all the documents here. I know we've been a little busy at the CSO but
someone would have told me if there was a cock-up like this."
Moving forward, the Inspector took the papers, glancing over them with a small
frown. His eyes lingered for a moment on the boy's name before he shook his
head and handed them back. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we haven't had any children
come through here. I can check with other stations if you like-"
"No," she interrupted, irritation mounting. "Thank you, Inspector. I know I
came to the right station. It seems that someone is playing a prank on me."
Glaring at both of them suspiciously, she turned on her heels, marching towards
the door. There was nothing more she could do here, but this wasn't going to be
the end of it. Not by far.
Shoving open the main door, she made her way down the stairs, ignoring the
riffraff that was being escorted up them. This was an outrage, an absolute
outrage. If this was some sort of false report, there would be hell to pay, and
if it wasn't and the police station managed to misplace that poor child, she
was going to make sure each and every one of the local law enforcement felt her
wrath for it.
"Damn fools," she muttered, never noticing the jet of white heading towards her
or the softly whispered 'obliviate'.
***** A Jump In Time *****
The eight year old touched the pillar next to him, watching as another group of
tourists passed by, their eyes wide and shining at the splendor around them.
Harry felt sorry for them, sorry and sick that they didn't know what they were
about to walk into, and wished he could call out to them, tell them not to go
any further on their tour. It would be feudal, however, and only sign his own
death warrant so he did nothing as he watched them, trying to memorize their
faces. It was what he did every time and it never got any easier.
"Harold," a voice said from behind him, hard and impatient. "You know you're
not supposed to be here. Aro forbid it."
Turning, Harry stared up at his keeper, face wiped clean of the turmoil he felt
inside. Jane - never Aunt Jane or sister Jane - looked down at him, a strangely
intent look in her eyes that he knew didn't bode well for him. Ever since he
could remember, she had been responsible for him, taking him from place to
place to be taught, groomed, and trained. That she openly disliked him and her
responsibility towards him was plain, and he sometimes wondered, in that
distant way he had developed, if she would have done with it and him one day.
"I was just going to my next lesson," Harry replied, thankful that it was at
least partly true. He had been going to his next lesson, even if he had been
ten minutes late and dreading the trouble he would get into for it.
"You're to be fitted for new clothes," she said eventually, red eyes boring
into him. It made him shiver, as it always did. Sometimes it was hard to
believe that Jane had once been like him: human.
Plucking at his jumper, he frowned. "I haven't grown out of these yet."
"It doesn't matter," Jane snapped, mouth tightening into a hard line. "I won't
have you whining at me like last time." With that, she turned, her robes
flaring out behind her like the wings of a bat.
Sighing softly, Harry followed and pointedly didn't look behind him when the
screams started.
 
***
Tanya Denali crouched low in the snowbank, her golden eyes fixed unblinkingly
on the still figure just a few yards away from her. Though she knew it was
pointless to hide, she still did it, enjoying the challenge of maybe one day
surprising her victim. Blowing a bit of strawberry blond hair from her eyes,
she shifted, careful to keep her mind impossibly blank as her muscles coiled
tightly and she sprang...
...and landed face first in the middle of the snow, her intended target having
taken a single step to the side just in time. Grumbling, she pushed herself to
her elbows and glared up at Edward Cullen. "I'll get you one of these days."
"I really doubt it," Edward returned, expression bemused. "You think too loud.
Even when you're trying not to."
Rolling her eyes, she eased herself onto her back, shirt pulling tight across
her stomach as she stared up at the grey-white clouds above her. It was going
to snow soon, the fat fluffy clouds hanging low above them. She liked it when
it snowed; it made pretending to be human that much more easy.
"You've been missing for a while," she thought, glancing at him curiously.
"They were beginning to get worried so I volunteered to come find you. You're
becoming predictable, hiding out here all the time."
"Hiding," Edward murmured, soft enough to make her blink. "Is that what it
seems like I'm doing? Hiding?"
"It seems that way to me," she offered, pushing herself to her feet in a blur
of motion. "You're always out here, away from everyone else. Including
me..." Reaching out, she tried to touch him, fingers connecting with empty air
despite her speed.
"Tanya," Edward warned, tone wary. "My feelings for you haven't changed. I'm
sorry but I'm just..."
"Not interested," she sighed, hand falling to her side. "I know you're not. I
had to try, though." Smiling, she shrugged. "Still friends?"
For a moment, he stared at her, golden eyes flickering over her face before
nodding. "Of course. You always will be."
Smile widening, she nodded back. She didn't have to be a mind reader to hear
the unspoken 'just a friend' tacked on to the end of that sentence.
Unfortunately.
"Then as a friend," she continued, crossing the few feet he'd put between them
when he'd moved. "Why don't you tell me what's bothering you? I swear I won't
tell anyone else unless you want me to but they are worried about you. So am
I."
Daringly, she placed a hand on his shoulder, happy when he didn't immediately
pull away from her. Though it had been a few years since she first tried
(unsuccessfully) to get him into her bed, she still considered him to be one of
her most favorite people in the world. That he was handsome, with a boyish
charm and untidy hair that she wanted to tangle her fingers in, certainly
didn't hurt matters.
Running a hand through his hair, Edward exhaled, lips pulling down at the
corners. "Do you ever think about your mate? I mean, your future mate?"
"Not really," she replied, head cocking to the side thoughtfully. "I used to
when I was younger, but it's been so long since then," she shrugged, gesturing
vaguely. "I can't live my life waiting for someone who might not be out there."
Frowning, she stepped in front of him, hand dropping from his shoulder as she
looked into his eyes. They were darkening, threads of black beginning to seep
into gold. "Is that what's bothering you? Not having a mate yet? Because-"
"But if you knew," he continued over her. "That your mate was out there and
that he was..."
"...was..?" She prompted when he trailed off, curious despite herself. It had
been years since she'd given any real thought to having a mate, years more
since she'd bothered to talk about it with anyone outside of her sisters. "Was
what, Edward?"
"Nothing," he responded, closing his eyes. When he opened them, they were
golden again. "Nevermind. It was just...wishful thinking." Smiling wearily, he
cocked his head in the direction she'd just come. "We'd better get back."
"But Edward," she started, hand lifting only to realize that she was once again
reaching for thin air.
 
***
Face set into stoic lines, Remus Lupin walked silently through the darkened
halls of Azkaban Prison, heart feeling as though it was being ripped from his
chest. It felt that way every time he came here; the oppressive atmosphere and
maddened screams of its inmates tearing at him and making him ache inside. That
his best mate was here, behind these walls, made it all the worse.
Sirius Black was many things, but a maddened killer and agent of the Dark Lord
wasn't one them. Remus knew that, even if no one else did, and to see the man
slowly be pushed to the brink of sanity was like a nightmare that would never
end. Especially for someone as bright and vivacious as his friend had once
been.
'I can't keep doing this,' he lamented dully. 'I can't. I'm sorry, Sirius. I
love you like a brother, a pack mate, but I just...I can't.'
Nodding distantly to a nearby guard, Remus stepped into one of the waiting
lifts, vowing, if only to himself, that he would never set foot here again.
Even if it killed him. And Sirius.
***** Quiet Places *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Esme stared down at the blueprint in front of her, satisfaction glowing bright
in her chest. It was done. It was finally done; the house, their house, the
home she'd been pining for, was finally done.
Setting her technical pen aside, she leaned back in her chair, admiring the
fine black lines she'd just finished drawing. It was going to be a beautiful
home; she could almost imagine it, with it's wide open spaces, floor to ceiling
windows, and spacious bedrooms that would give all her children a place to be
themselves. It would be a safe haven that they could be a family, a real
family, in.
Smiling at the thought, she pushed away from the desk, leaving her draft to dry
while she went in search of her husband and chosen mate. Perhaps he would know
a place, a perfect place, that they could build their future home.
 
***
The blood in his mouth tasted of salt and rust. The bitter essence of love and
disappointment. Of pain and fear.
Severus Snape jerked awake, the tender vestiges of his dream clinging to his
skin and clouding his mind. "Lily," he gasped, gazing about the room wildly,
half-expecting to see the witch there, within arms reach. Her green eyes warm
and comforting. Her smile alive and promising. Her...
She wasn't there. Of course, she wasn't there. How could she be?
Lifting a shaking hand, he pressed his fingers to his eyelids, ignoring the
moisture that had gathered beneath them. "You're a fool, Severus Snape," he
muttered, chest aching sharply. "A stupid bloody fool."
 
***
Barty Crouch Jr. stared at the spread before him, tongue flicking out the side
of his mouth in glee. Chicken and ham sandwiches, jacket potatoes, green veg,
custard tarts and a glass of Amber Shine to wash it all down with; he was in
heaven. Pure and utter heaven.
Disregarding manners, he dug into his meal like a man half starved, fighting
back the moans of pleasure that wanted to escape. He hadn't eaten this good
in...years. Not since before Azkaban, anyway, and he was going to enjoy every
bloody second of it, especially now that he knew he no longer had to live on
the raggedy edge of wizarding society; hiding in shadows and living the life of
a street urchin.
He was free now; away from the hold of his treacherous father and the blasted
Ministry the man held so dear. He could finally (finally) enjoy the fruits of
his labor from all those years ago, when he'd snatched a baby, the baby, from
the tender mercies of his care givers and fled. He hadn't known then what he
would do with the boy, the mere child who had killed his master, but it had
come to him in time, washing away the fog that had swirled in his mind.
He would use the boy as leverage. Offer him up as a sacrifice, a powerful
temptation, to a race that his lord had once spoken of in hissing thirst. He'd
wanted them on his side in the war, before everything had gone to ruin and
waste and...
"Can I get you anything else, sir?"
Twisting sharply, Barty glared at the filthy muggle who'd spoken, wand hand
twitching. He wanted to kill her; torture her until she bled all over the
polished floor. He wanted to make her dance until her feet were raw and bloody.
He wanted to teach her a lesson.
But he couldn't. Not here. Not now.
"Leave," he ordered, watching in satisfaction as she blanched and turned,
leaving him to his meal and his solitude. He spelled the door shut behind her,
grinning nastily when it nearly slammed closed on her hand. Filthy disgusting
things, muggles.
Turning back to his sandwich, he bit into it viciously, the swell of pride and
satisfaction burning in his veins. To think that just a few years ago he'd been
rotting in stagnation and now he was here, eating food that wasn't half-spoiled
and being waited on hand and foot by a muggle who feared him. It was heady and
delicious, and not even Bellatrix Lestrange had managed that.
The Dark Lord would be pleased. The Dark Lord...
Barty shivered in pleasure, tongue flicking out. He could feel his master out
there, sometimes. Watching and waiting, biding his time until he could rise
again and make the world tremble under his rule.
Turning over his arm, sandwich falling forgotten to the floor, he traced the
faded lines of his dark mark lovingly. The ink was growing darker. He was sure
of it.
Grinning widely, he closed his eyes, allowing himself just a moment to imagine
how pleased his lord would be with him and all he had done in his absence.
After all, he was the reason the vampires were on their side. The right side.
 
***
The letter came in a flurry of wings, a large brown barn owl circling around
his head once, twice, three times before settling on his bedpost. Harry
blinked, green eyes widening when he realized it was the same owl from
yesterday. The one that had carried a letter, the same letter, it seemed, that
it now held out to him, beak snapping irritably when he didn't immediately take
it.
"I'm sorry," he said, eyes drinking in the cream colored parchment and its
purple wax seal. The wax was in the shape of a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle,
a badger, and a snake surrounding the letter H. He wanted to grab it, snatch it
from the owl and hide it away. "But I've been forbidden to take that. Not
unless someone sees it first."
"Which is why I'm here," a voice said from behind him. The eleven year old
flinched, head immediately bowing as Jane's brother, Alec, strode into the
room, red eyes flicking to and away from him dismissively. "Go back to your
studies, Harold."
"But..."
"Do not test me," Alec warned, hands a blur of motions as he untied the letter
from the owl's leg and turned back to the door. His crimson eyes pinned Harry
with a stare. "Remember, tomorrow you will continue your training with me."
Back stiffening, Harry turned back to his studies, hand unconsciously rubbing
at the thin white line of scar tissue that adorned his left wrist.
Chapter End Notes
     Notes on Barty Jr: In Potter Canon, Barty Jr escapes from AP only to
     spend over 10 years Imperiused in his father's house. That's
     obviously not the case here.
     For those who have read this fic elsewhere: I'm just trying to get my
     fics up-to-date here and then I'll be posting new chapters. Thank you
     for the support!
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