The first chapter has been edited and slightly changed, while the second chapter is rewritten and reposted. A year on hold and I'm starting on a clean slate. Hope you will enjoy the story! I start writing it once more with a different idea.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything

Warnings: Some mature subjects, slight abuse, non-con, AU, OOC, slash, if you do not like a submissive Harry you probably won't enjoy this.

I am Swedish and I apologize if my english isn't the best, let me know if the grammatical/spelling mistakes is bad enough to need a beta. Enjoy!

Italics : Flashbacks

1. Prologue

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the dark, dank dungeons. A man wearing black, long robes with the hood pulled over his head turned around the corner without breaking stride. He pulled out a pair of rusty keys from within his robes, his eyes firmly set upon a dark, wooden door only feet away. His pace quickened as he felt the anticipation grow as the distance shortened. He made a stop right in front of it, worked the key into the hole and swiftly undid the lock with a quiet click. With a steadly grip on the round handle he pulled the door open, its rusty hinges creaking loudly in protest. The man stepped inside of the room with a built up excitement and let the door fall back into it's original place behind him.

The man pulled down his hood, exposing dark hair and a pair of black, hungry eyes. The man was pale. Pale and so handsome with high cheekbones, a strong chin and broad shoulders. His dark eyes eagerly swept over the room, taking in the surroundings as he had a habit of doing during his visits.

There were no windows in the room and therefor the only source of light came from the flickering torches mounted on the walls. Tiny droplets of waters came through between the cracks in the stone walls and quietly dripped to the floor. The only thing of any intrest in the room were the maroon curtains hanging from the ceiling, surrounding an enclosed space in the middle of the room. The man took a couple of steps forwards, his heavy boots tapping against the hard stone floor. He let a hand softly trail the delicate fabric of the curtains and took a minut to admire the golden trimming around the edges.

He felt his heart pound harder against his chest as he swiftly pulled the curtains open, revealing a young man lying on what looked like a stone tomb. The warm torches flickered against the boy's face, dancing on his pale skin and almost making it look alive. Such treachery. The man let his hands trail over the boy's face, wishing that the fire would cast som warmth upon the cold feeling that was the boy's skin. His finger slowly traced the boy's button nose and let his finger continue the jouney across his soft cheek. Long black hair fell upon a white satin pillow like waves on a wild ocean. Long dark eyelashes softly rested like the kiss of a butterfly on his cheeks. His lips had no color, yet they looked so deliciously plump and were parted in such a fascinating way; as if he was breathing.

Desire pumped through the man's veins as he relished in the feeling of those lips against his long finger. To the naked eye they look soft like velvet, but felt chapped and dry beneath his harsh touch. They were so cold, just like the rest of the boy. Everything about him was cold, dead and uninviting. And yet he looked so beautiful clad in white burial robes. The man softly placed his own lips against the boy's in a chaste kiss, it was a cold and unresponsive kiss. He yearned for the the warmth, the vulnerability he had once tasted while claiming those lips a long time ago. Desperately he placed his mouth over the boy's again, this time using his tongue to explore the unresponsive cavern.

"Kiss me back." He growled against the dry lips, gripping the boy's hair in anger. At the lack of a response he pulled back, leaving only a few inches between them. He stayed like that for a minute, staring into the boy's pretty face and wishing for those eyes to flutter open. He craved to see the beautiful sight that lay beneath those eyelids, yearned to find himself lost in the emerald pools that were just waiting for him. With unsteady fingers, he softly pried the eyelids open and was met with nothing more than white. The color white, so innocent yet so taunting. He imagined the boy, alive and well, helplessly falling over as his eyes rolled back into his skull. The sound of a goblet hitting the floor with a clank echoed through his mind, only ever in his mind.

The man pulled back, angrily. "When will you ever wake up, my love?" he questioned out loud, waiting for the reply he had never stopped hoping would follow his question. He sighed and started to stroke the soft black hair, brushing a lock into place behind the boy's ear with his fingers. Feeling his patient running low, the man straightened himself up. He gave the boy one last look before shutting the drapes behind him.

"Good bye for now, pet." he whispered and left the room, the sound of the door shutting behind him echoed all the way through the dungeons with him.

Vernon Dursley was a greedy man. His love for gold was only surpassed by his selfishness and cut-throat attitude. For a man who had once belonged to a wealthy, noble family he was not satisfied with the poor life of a farmer he had been reduced into living . After years of drinking and scandals he no longer had any claim to the Dursley family vault, so he and his pregnant wife found themselves with a small plot just outside the land of Slytherin with an even smaller amount of gold. There he had spent the next seventeen years planting, growing and harvesting crops on his land to sell down at the town market. It wasn't always steady buisness though. For several months now the Dursley family had been disappointed to notice that most of the crops would not blossom, but instead wither and die. It had not rained for a long time and the fields had dried to the point were nothing seemed to be able to grow.

In desperation Vernon would send out the two boys to the nearby river to fill buckets with water to bring back for the field. After the two mile walk beneath the beaming sun the boys would arrive with strained muscles and red irritated skin only to realize how futile their attempts where. Their horse which had been in the family for many years now was too old to drag heavy amounts of weight and was therefor of no help. As a last resort to earn the gold he needed to pay for his land and food for his weakening wife Vernon had tried to sell the horse, but its old age and disability to pull a fully loaded carriage rendered it useless in everyone's eyes.

So he was left with a big debt, dead fields, a weak horse, a sick wife, a son who ate more than they could afford and a useless nephew.

King Tom Riddle came like sent from above that day.

A loud knock on the door woke the Durlsey family from their worried musings, as they knew what was to come. Petunia opened the door nervously and was met by the large, intimidating man.

"King Tom." she greeted him, bowing as low as she could and then moving out of the way so that the king could enter. The small kitchen was cramped, it had a small wooden table in the middle of the room with something that looked like breadcrumbs scattered across the surface. Kitchen supplies were hanging from small hooks in the ceiling; pots, pans and ladles. The sink was beginning to rust and was filled with a small amount of dirty plates and wooden goblets. On the counter the remaining clean plates stood in a pile and the goblets were hanging upside down above them. There was clearly not a lot of storage room in the kitchen. One of the two cupboards had lost it's door and all that was left was one of the hinges. In the cupboard there was some bread and warm milk in a bottle. Right next to the bottle lay a small rat trap with a tiny amount of cheese.

"I'm sure you've been informed in advance of my visit." Tom said, now looking at the thin woman in front of him.

"Of course, my king." she replied, unable to hide the worry in her weak voice. She was a very pale woman with a sickly thin figure and dark rings around her eyes. Footsteps could be heard and a large man suddenly entered the room. He was very overweight, had a thick walrus mustache and small beady eyes. On the top of his head greasy and thinning, brown hair stood out in disarray. He reached out a fat hand to the king and huffed up his chest.

"My king." he greeted in a grunt and brought his hand back when the king merely stared at it.

"I do not wish to overstay my visit here, Dursley. I have my men outside and we have more important affairs to tend to. You must of course be aware of your debt to my kingdom." Tom said coldly. "As your father is a respectable man and an important asset to the community, I took it upon myself to give you a 10 days notice personally." He stopped for a second, sending a scathing look around the house once more. "Though it seems my effort was unnecessary, as I can deem that you are not good for the gold you owe."

"My king." Vernon repeated nevously, flattening the greasy hair across his head with one hand. "If you give us another month I can guarantee that we will be able to pay you. "

"You can guarantee me nothing." Tom snapped and his shoulder tensed as he heard one of his horses letting out a frigthened noise, followed by the loud, angry voice of one of his men.

In one quick motion the king was outside, taking in the scene before him. One of his men held a scruffy boy in the air by his neck and had pulled out a sharp knife that was currently pressed tightly against the skin underneath his chin.

"I should slit your throat!" he hissed angrily, shaking the boy viciously in his grip. At the sight of the king the man turned stoic and dropped the small child to the ground.

"My lord." the man spoke calmly, bowing his head and putting away the knife, realizing his actions had caused a disruption.

Tom looked from the man to the boy on the ground who had fallen to his knees with his head down in shame. One tan shoulder had slipped through the neckline of his oversized shirt and the king could see a shudder shake through the boy.

"What is going on here, Dolohov?" Tom inquired calmly.

"The boy rushed out right in front of us, giving the horse a real fright." Dolohov replied, stroking the mane of his dark horse roughly. Vernon, who had been standing in the open doorway, strode forward towards the motionless boy.

"You useless piece of filth." He hissed, the boy's head snapped up in response and he earned himself a loud slap that sent him sprawling with a yelp face down to the ground. Tan, thin fingers flew up to the victimized cheek and a look of horror contorted his face. Vernon's beefy hand shot out and grasped the fragile wrist in an uncomfortable grip. The boy gasped and started to shake, in fright rather than pain.

"Dursley." The king spoke "This disorder has disrupted us for too long."

"Yes, of course." Vernon cleared his throat and seemed to collect himself for a few seconds. He turned over to the boy who remained still on the ground with one bent arm supporting his weight. "Get the horses some water and make sure not to disturb us again." The boy looked up as his wrist was released and got up on shuddering legs.

"Yes, uncle." he responded, before bowing his head and turning to the horses. The king caught a glimpse of the boy before he lead away one of the horses by the reins.

He was short and lean, clad in dirty and torn oversized working clothes. His large white shirt was sliding down one of his shoulders and had the sleeves rolled up around his elbows. His pants had also been rolled up to fit him and hung around his scraggy knees. He had tan skin from spending his time doing labour out in the sun. His black hair was overgrown and hung down in his face, shielding most of his eyes. As the boy had used his arm to wipe away sweat from his forehead, his bangs had been pushed to the side and Tom had seen the most brilliant emerald color. It was then he had realized how Vernon Dursley could pay off his debt.

Tom Riddle sat in his throne, staring around the main hall. Two of his men stood by the far end of the room, guarding the high, wooden double door. As one of them lowered his spear down onto the marble floor, the sound echoed between the walls. A long, red carpet reached from the door all the way to Tom's throne. On each side, a couple of feet away from the carpet, there were a number of long pillars supporting the high and arched ceiling. The hall was light up by the sun shining through the beautiful, arched windows, casting beautiful patterns against the marble floor.

The door suddenly opened, a ragged man slowly made his way to the throne with one of the king's servants at his side. The ragged man was short, had a chubby figure and was clad in brown, filthy robes. Once they reached the king, they both bowed, one with more grace than the other. The sturdy servant stood up tall, his posture strong and secure. He held his spear in a firm grip and the other hand was resting heavily against his side. The ragged man though didn't stand up, he remained crumpled to the floor.

"My king." he spoke out, his voice flat and weak.

"I hope you have valuable information this time, Wormtail." Tom hissed, gripping the arm rest of his throne tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"I do, my king." Wormtail replied, squirming on his knees. "Regarding the sorceress Lestrange." Tom leaned forward.

"Do continue."

The dark sorceress Lestrange was a well-known witch that used to haunt the forbidden forest in the Slytherin kingdom. Children were kept far away from the forest and told horror stories about the sorceress. She used dark magic to lure men and children to her, once they entered the forest they would never return to the village again. Once she had been a seer in the village but rumours of her dark magic had begun to spread. Women blamed her for their husbands mistakes, cheating and misfortune, claiming that they had been victims under her spells. Lestrange had been chased out of the town but Tom had made an agreement with her. She was allowed to remain within the land of Slytherin, in the forest, if she did his bidding if he ever needed her work of magic. After certain events in the castle, she had disappeared.

Wormtail hesitated for a second. "There has been some rumours that a witch is causing havoc in the land of Ravenclaw. Several children have disappeared within the last couple of days, the townsfolk are quite distraught." Tom thought over these words for a couple of seconds.

"I do hope these rumours are true, Wormtail." He said, his voice cold. "The last search wasn't very successful was it?" Without waiting for an answer he turned to the man next to Wormtail. "Send some of my men to the land of Ravenclaw. No more than ten, we do not want to give lady Helena a reason to start a war. Make sure that your intent there is clear." The man bowed with a 'Yes, my lord' before exciting the hall.

Tom turned back to the crumpled man on the floor. "If we do not find the sorceress soon, I'll have your head, Wormtail. With all these failures you are of no use to me."

Wormtail's eyes bugged and he quickly stuttered his apology before the king dismissed him.

Tom remembered the way the sun reflected against the moist surface of those emerald pools on the way to the castle. Tears ran down the small boy's cheeks but he held his head down for most of the trip. He was on a horse, tightly pressed against one of the men's chest with two sturdy arms against his sides.

The boy's uncle hadn't even contemplated selling the boy, he had jumped at the opportunity with surprising eagerness, earning himself a few more months free of debt. The king sneered at the sight of the upset teen, he was soon to realize that he was better off this way.

When they first arrived at the castle the boy had been quiet, reluctant and anxious. He had been given clean clothes, a warm bath and fine food. The treatment seemed to make the boy even more anxious. He had seemed surprised to find out that he had not been brought to the castle to work. The days passed and the boy remained a grateful guest in the castle. He had gotten his own room with his own bathroom and a big wardrobe full of tailor-made clothes. The confusion within him went unanswered for weeks.

He woke up every morning and was met by two of Tom's female servants. They would bathe him and brush his hair. They even insisted that he'd let them dress him, at first he had been reluctant but after a couple of weeks of their daily insisting he realized it was just easier to go along with it. They became his own personal servants. For weeks they took care of his every reluctant need and he didn't even know their names.

The boy spent most of his time reading in the enormous library. He had never gotten the chance to have a good education the king learnt, but he loved to read whenever he got the chance. He read everything from romance novels to educational books.

He wasn't allowed to leave the castle, but he didn't mind. Even though he missed the sun, he didn't try to push the subject. He would eat breakfast, lunch and dinner with the king in the dinner hall but they rarely had any conversations. The boy felt shy and nervous around the king, who often had guests over to discuss business with.

Weeks turned into months and the boy began to feel more and more at home in the castle. He often wondered why the king had brought him there, he didn't do anything useful after all. The king had started to talk to him whenever they ate together, it was uncomfortable for the boy, but he was polite and listened attentively when the king talked. As time passed they boy seemed to grow more comfortable in the king's presence, the time they spent together was something he started to look forward to. It could get very lonely in the castle after all with nothing but servants looking after him.

Months passed, the boy's hair had grown to his shoulder by this time and his servants kept it groomed and neat. Months without sun had started to have it's effects, he had lost his golden tan and was starting to get paler. One of his servants had told him it made his emerald eyes more stunning.

The king had started to spend more time around the boy, he often answered letters, read reports and such in the library nearby. The boy would sometimes notice the king staring at him while he was reading, but didn't ask about it and simply kept on reading.

More often, the boy began to receive beautiful gifts from the king. Sometimes when he woke up he would find beautifully wrapped packages lying on his nightstand. It was flattering, but the boy often wondered what he done to earn it. Tom remembered fondly how the boy had been charmed by his gentle and giving nature. One day it had all just gone horribly wrong.

Tom had entered the boy's room one evening, this wasn't a very usual thing. He had found the boy in his chair in front of a desk with an ornate mirror above it, one of his servants was gently brushing his hair with slow strokes. The king had dismissed her for the evening before taking over where she left off. The boy looked at him curiously as he began to caress the soft, black locks of hair with his fingers while brushing it gently.

"You have such beautiful hair." Tom whispered. He saw the boy blush in the mirror, looking coy and extremely innocent.

"Thank you, my king." He responded. Tom smiled, put down the brush and reached inside of his robes. He pulled out a small, black satin box and laid it before the boy on the desk.

"Open it." he encouraged when he saw the hesitating look in the emerald eyes. The boy reached out his thin, delicate hands and slowly lifted the lid off the box. He gasped at the sight of a beautiful, diamond pendant necklace. He fingers lightly traced the air around the silver chain, his eyes wide in awe.

"For you, my beauty." Tow whispered, his breath hot against the boy's ear. He picked up the silver chain and pushed the boy's hair over his right shoulder, exposing his tender neck. With gentle motions he worked the chain around the boy's neck so that the pendant fell gracefully over the middle of his chest. He softly traced the lonely strand of silver that ran from the clasp and a couple of inches down the boy's spine. He felt the skin prickle beneath his touch and smiled at the response he was receiving, it was obvious that the boy enjoyed his touch.

"It's too much." The boy whispered, his voice soft and breathless.

"Nonsense." The king muttered, following the curve of the boy's neck with his eyes. He looked up and met the boy's emerald gaze in the mirror, with a self-satisfied smile Tom lowered his head and placed a kiss on the exposed neck. A soft gasp escaped from the boy's mouth and his shoulders rose in response. His eyes were dancing with confusion and anxiousness.

Tom slowly stroked his thin fingers over the boy's neck and softly whispered "Don't worry." He placed both of his hands on the boy's tense shoulders and pushed them down.

"I-I'm tired." The boy's lips trembled as he absentmindedly tried to shrug off the hands holding him down, trapping him. Tom hummed in response and tightened his grip on the thin shoulders.

"Please, my k-k-king." the boy stuttered desperately. "I'm tired, I j-j-just want to sleep." Tom pulled him up from the chair by his shoulder. His arms wandered around the clothed waist and nipped at the knot on the front of the boy's white, silk night robe. He felt small hands trying to push his own prying fingers away, but simply untied the knot and let the silk ribbon fall to the floor. Bringing his hands up to the boy's neck, Tom pushed the soft fabrics off his shoulders gently. The piece of clothing gracefully pooled around the boy's bare feet. Now he was only clad in a tight, white body that reached from the middle of his thighs and ended in short sleeves, tightly wrapped around his upper arms.

The boy shivered as Tom traced his fingers along the sides of his bare arms. The white body showed off his every curve, clinging to his small waist and following the shape of his backside. Tom admired the boy's lean legs, his well-formed hips and his small and delicate figure.

"What is it that you want, my king?" The boy whispered, his voice soft and pleading. Tom didn't reply, his mind was fixed on the way the black locks fell around the boy's shoulders and how his heavy breathing caused his body to heave beautifully. He turned the boy around swiftly, meeting an intense, anxious emerald gaze. He took in the flushed cheeks, the parted lips and the soft air coming through them.

With his strong, masculine arms, Tom enclosed the boy's waist and harshly pulled him against his hard chest. His lips were hard and demanding against the smaller ones, his tongue begged for entrance, something that the boy hadn't yet granted him. Small fist were pushing against his chest, the small body was working against his hold.

"Don't!" The words were wasted against his lips.

"I own you." Tom growled, putting more force against the boy who started to stumble backwards while still being pressed against the king. Tom manouevred them so that the back of the boy's knees hit the side of the bed and he struggled to regain his balance for a second before falling backwards with the king on top of him.

It was when Tom flipped the boy over to his stomach and started to unbutton the many, small white, clothed buttons on his back that the panic set in. The boy struggled with his whole body, twisting and turning with all his might trying to get the person off of him. The king got frustrated and with a strong grip forced the boy still on the bed. Tears had started to trail down his face and he was whimpering in pain of the pressure as he cried into the bedspread.

"Please.." he whispered, tasting salty tears against his swollen lips.

There was a sudden knock against the door, both of the males looked towards the sound. The boy, feeling the pressure lighten slightly saw his opportunity and twisted violently. The king lost his strong hold which made is possible for the younger one to roll out from beneath him. He felt the king grab for him as he ran towards the bathroom, well inside with the door locked he fell down on the floor and cried.

Tom Riddle paced down the long corridor, the sound of his footsteps silenced against the navy, silver trimmed carpet. His large, intimidating figure was slightly hunched in angry disappointed, making his shadow against the stone wall look defeated. The orange sun from outside the castle kept reflecting against his face as he passed the arched windows. The carved out patterns in the glass came to life on his cheeks and danced on his skin tauntingly. Looking out through the window, the king saw the sun slowly setting behind the dark mountain tops just outside the border of his land. His black eyes twitched and he straightened himself up, his angry steps growing more determined.

So the boy had rejected him, the failure to claim his beauty freshly lingered in his head and pumped through his veins. Tom was the king of the Slytherin land, saying no to him was not an option. He had shown patience and kindness - both traits that he did not possess. He had still been rejected. Tom sneered, this proved once again that those were the ways of a fool. He was a manipulative, ruthless and cunning man, those traits had led him to success before and would have to guide him this time as well. If he couldn't have what he wanted, he would take it. He knew what he had to do.

As the king passed one of his guards, he ordered the man to fetch the sorceress reciding in the woods. The guard bowed his head before leaving to fullfil his duty. Tom entered the main hall and sat down on his throne, gripping the arm rest painfully hard as he had the habit to do. He stared as his knuckles turned white and impatiently awaited the sorceress' arrival. As the sun set, the hall slowly darkened and soon enough it was only light up by the serene moonlight and the chandeliers hanging from the high, arched ceiling.

The hall was empty, the guards were mostly set outside the castle during the night. Two of his men stood outside the main door, armed and ready to strike down anyone who tried to enter the castle without permission. Outside the front doors of the castle there was a brick path leading from the gate all the way to the main doors. Surrounding the path was a field of neatly cut green grass. It was the only part of the castle grounds that could be viewed from the outside through the bars of the gate, the back of the castle was surrounded by the high brick walls with elegant, pointed tops of steel that went all around the castle grounds. If you left the castle through the back doors you would enter a beautiful garden with pretty flowers, majestic trees, round ponds and narrow paths. Beyond the great garden there lay a large, peaceful lake and next to the lake a deep forest. All of this were a part of the castle grounds and were surrounded by the brick wall. Round the clock the guards would circle through the castle ground to secure maximum safety precautions.

The sound of creaking hinges echoed through the hall. Tom turned his attention to the other side of the room to see the heavy double doors being pulled open. The illuminating moon light crept up along the maroon carpet as the gap between the two doors widened. Reflected in the light were dark shadows. Tom could clearly see the four shapes which the shadows belonged to, all wearing dark clothing they stood in the door opening with their gazes seemingly pointed towards the throne which the king sat upon.

The moon light coming through the doors diminished as two of the shapes pulled them shut. They remained on each side of the doors with spears in firm grips, watching as the other two started to make their way down the maroon carpet. Tom felt a wicked grin tug at his lips in anticipation as they bowed in front of him, a man and a woman.

They both wore dark clothes, the man had simple yet elegant black robes with the Slytherin crest of a silver snake embroided on it. Over the robes he wore a thick, black cloak with a hood pulled over his head. On his feet he wore heavy, leather boots and around his hips was a belt with a sheathed, yet visible dagger. In his gloved hand he held onto the typical spear all the king's guards carried.

"My king." the man spoke. "I present to you the sorceress Lestrange." Tom's eyes swept over the woman, she also wore a dark cloak with the oversized hood pulled over her head, putting her face in shadow. At the mention of her name she pulled the hood back and let if fall over her back gracefully. Her dark brown, almost black, hair was tied back high up on her head with long curls falling down to her shoulder blades gently. A few locks fell around her face, softly grazing her cheekbones.

She had a strong, pale face with high cheekbones, a pointed chin, straight nose and arched eyebrows. Her eyes were dark and menacing, circled in black chole and blood shot. Beneath her thick cloak, she wore a tight black dress with long, wide sleeves. The black fabric pooled around her ankles and was cut high in the front, revealing some skin and high-heels.

"My lord." She greeted the man with a graceful bow without breaking eye contact, her lips were turned up in a wicked smile. "Always a pleasure." Her voice was smooth, inviting and dangerous. She unclasped her cloak with one hand, baring her shoulders and draped the fabric over the sharp point of the man's spear, who looked ready to correct her insolence if it hadn't been for Tom's dismissive hand gesture.

"Bellatrix." The king spoke coldly. "I presume life in the woods is to your satisfaction?" His black eyes glinted as her wicked grin disminished.

"It's.. fairly passable." she replied, her intriqued gaze locked with his own as she tilted her head to the side. "But I presume life in the castle is not."

Her statement made Tom's anger rise to the surface.

"Do not use your witchcraft on me, Bellatrix." He hissed, rising from his throne. The grin returned to the sorceress lips, her face looked predatory and taunting at the same time. She remained silent and snapped with her fingers once, the sound rang through the big hall. A black snake appeared in her hands. With on hand wrapped right beneath the head of the snake and one with the snake's lower part of the body resting on it, she raised the snake's head to level with her own. Her predatory gaze stared hungrily at the snake as she lowly hissed at it.

"No witchcraft, my lord." She spoke looking up at the angry king. "A little birdie whispered in my ear." She stopped with a smirk. "And why else would you call me here, if not for my help? If not for my magic?"

Tom took a few steps closer to her, his strong figure towering over her.

"My spouse is showing some.. reluctance." He said. The witch looked at him as if considering his words.

"Say no more." she said a moment later with her grin back on her face. Tom watched as the snake seemed to shrink within the sorceress' grip until it errupted into soft, black smoak. The haze slowly disolved and in Bellatrix's grip she now held an elegant phial with a black substance in it.

"Love potion?" Tom questioned, his gaze transfixed by the way the moon light reflected against the clear glass.

"Of sorts." Bellatrix replied, her eyes glinting eagerly. "You'll sweep your.. spouse, right off his feet."

Flickering lights danced across the pale skin and the flames spread warmth through the room, still the body on the stone tomb was as cold as a corpse. Exactly one year had passed since the boy had fallen into his enchanted slumber. He had never showed any signs of waking and the witch was no where to be found. Tom's fingers were gently running through the black locks falling over the satin pillows in beautiful waves.

He placed a hand over the boy's clothed chest, feeling the soft heartbeats against his open palm. Tom had grabbed the first opportunity he got to feed the boy the potion, which had been during breakfast the morning after. After the night's events the boy had refused to come down to the dining room, which was to be expected. Instead Tom had sent his servants with breakfast to the boy's room. He was found passed out cold on the floor an hour later and to this day had not come out of his state.

Tom had ordered his men to once again go into the woods and bring back the soreceress, but she had disappeared without a trace. Months had gone by and his never ending search had continued to be unsuccessful.

The long fingers traced the white fabric slowly, enjoying the soft feelings against his rough fingertips. His eyes were fixed on the boy's face as his hand reached around the exposed throat, there was no reaction.

Anger swept through his weins, his fists tightenend, one of them still wrapped around the boy's delicate throat. His body shuddered as he took a ragged breath and sunk his nails into tender, cold skin. His arms shook from the pressure he put in his tight grip and he felt his fingers going numb. The delicate features on the boy's face remained stoic and peaceful, his eyelids didn't flutter, his face wasn't screwed up in pain och his lips weren't trembling with soft groans leaving them. The cold skin within his hold felt dead and unresponsive, there was no rushing blood or racing pulse beneath his touch.

With an impatient growl Tom released his hold on the delicate throat and slammed his fists against the stone tomb the boy was lying on. His back heaved and his breathing was loud and harsh. His angry eyes were set upon the boy's face, the peace lingering over the body was infuriating. The pale throat was already starting to bruise, Tom stared at it as if transfixed. These signs of life were the only things that kept his search for the witch going, he knew there was a way to bring the boy back.

Tom placed one of his hands on top of the boy's gently beating heart while the other went to his pocket. Pulling out a pocket watch from his robes, he sighed and watched as the clock drew close to midnight. With one last look at the boy's face he was ready to leave, until something stopped him. The heart beneath his touch skipped a beat before thudding, hard, against the king's palm. His heart stopped for a second and with his every sense on edge he noticed the small twitch of the boy's eyelids and felt a now much stronger heartbeat.

Gradually the boy started showing more signs of life. Placing a hand over the open mouth he felt hot air against his fingers. The boy's small chest started to heave with every breath and his skin began heating up. Tom watched with eagerness as the eyelids started fluttering until the boy finally managed to crack them half open. As dazed emerald pools stared back at him, not really seeing him, the king felt a smirk playing across his lips.

"Good morning, my love."