Harry felt like he was going to die. Like his knees were going to bend backwards and break. Like his legs were about to crumble into ashes and fall off. He was more than familiar with ridiculous levels of exertion while working to take care of his relatives' house and fulfill the heaps of chores that the Dursley's had seen fit to drop on top of his head and had felt ill from overworking himself on more than one occasion but it had never been as bad as it was now.

It felt as if his insides were all tied up into knots and that his stomach had been turned inside out. He could taste acidic bile in his mouth and vaguely recalled the fact that over salivation was considered to be a telltale sign of an impending fit of vomiting.

Having lost sight of the Claymore some hours before due in part to his own faltering stamina Harry figured that pausing to catch his breath and regain a firm hold on the paltry contents of his stomach-consisting largely of pine needles, bark and a handful of berries which may or may not have been of the poisonous sort-was a better, much less time consuming option than forcing himself to continue forwards until he couldn't anymore and covered the forest floor with a puddle of sick. Which, considering the prevailing winds of his abysmal luck thus far, he'd be likely to fall into as well.

Beginning to be able to make out odd shapes in the corners of his vision and very much aware that that was likely not the greatest sign, the raven staggered the last few steps to the nearest tree and slid down into a seated position at the base of its trunk. Immediately, in the hopes that it would help him to get a quicker hold on his unhappy stomach, Harry put his head between his knees and did his best to focus on his breathing.

It took a while, the better part of an hour maybe, but the bubbling clenching pain eventually went away and the odd bile-taste disappeared as well. Not quite trusting the discomfort to remain at bay if he moved again the little raven remained exactly where he was for about ten more minutes, taking deep breaths, before he finally worked up the courage to push himself back up onto his feet.

He remained unsteady, eyelids drooping in exhaustion from the constant activity he'd been subjected to while following the pale man and from the stint of unconsciousness from which his body hadn't had the chance to fully recover, but was able to keep his feet with an at least passable degree of competence and continue onwards through the trees.

With the approach of fall the night was just cold enough to raise faint gooseflesh along the length of his arms. Broken by the bows of the towering trees into bars of deep blue, the night sky which stretched over head was cloudless and studded with countless stars. The air around him smelled like rich soil, pine sap, rotting leaves and wood smoke.

Wood smoke?

Turning in the direction from which the smell was most likely to be coming from and squinting through the satin darkness Harry could just make out the dim flicker of dark orange light that made the shadows dance between the trees. Aware that the fire which was likely the source of the light could have belonged to anyone and that the person responsible for stoking it could potentially be dangerous in any number of ways he approached cautiously. Moving with all the silence that his fumbling state and the leaf and stick strewn ground would allow, Harry crept forward towards it through the trees.

Soon enough he could make out clearly exactly what the light's source was: as he'd expected, a small fire had been built from twigs and fallen leaves in the center of a clearing. Beside it, sitting profile to him with his back propped against his massive blade, was the Claymore.

Before he could even step beyond the tree line a familiar voice from behind him hissed "I thought I told you not to follow me, boy! Are you not able to tell when your carcass isn't wanted?"

Harry doubted that he'd ever get used to the immense speeds that the pale man was capable of. A powerful hand descended on the back of his neck, lifting him off of his feet by the scruff like a naughty kitten, and shook him roughly for good measure. Likely for want of a physical outlet to his frustration which wouldn't lead the source of them to permanent harm.

Unable to do much more than struggle in a vain attempt to free himself and demand to be put down, the raven was carried the length of the clearing before being dropped into a heap beside the stuttering fire.

"What a damned fool you are! Haven't you any sense of danger? Any inclination towards self-preservation? Clearly you haven't any care towards my desire to see the last of you, you incessant little pest!" It wasn't the first time that Harry had had to endure such a tirade against him, nor was it the most vicious that he'd ever had to sit through. Well aware how best such things could be handled, the raven positioned himself on his knees and lowered his head to wait out the storm. "I'm a warrior, not a bloody baby sitter! Not a caretaker! Certainly not any sort of wise choice for a guardian! I don't walk a road that something as fragile as a human could survive to follow; continuing this inane stupidity will only get you killed! Find some other pass time!"

"I'm not following you out of a want to annoy you; despite what you might think, Claymore, I'm not an idiot." Given his situation and what he was facing Harry thought he did an incredible job of keeping his tone frigid. Though he didn't look up from where he'd rested his hands in his lap he could tell from the soft hiss that this had taken the Claymore by surprise. "I'm an orphan. My village cast me out. My last living family is gone, now. I haven't anyone left and no prospects within Gryffindor Province. I want out, will gladly go anywhere else, and you're my best chance of managing that."

He heard him growl, then retreat back towards his sword. "So you thought it best to throw your lot in with a hybrid whose control could snap at any moment? You really are a fool." Cruelty was nothing Harry wasn't used to. Hearing the pale man sigh he looked up to see him run a hand sharply through his frosted curls. "I was stuck either way; thought that if I told you the blunt truth about my saving you having been out of obligation and nothing more than you'd stop this but clearly I was wrong. I may as well have made you think I give a bleeding damn for all the good it did keeping you away."

"Will you let me travel with you out of Gryffindor or not?"

"I'll take you to the next town outside of this Province and leave you there, regardless of whether it's to your 'satisfaction'. Attempt to follow me beyond there and I'll break both your legs. Do you understand?"

"And if I decide to crawl after you?"

"Then I'll break your spine. Don't play with me, boy; you'll sorely regret it."

"Oh?"

"Cutting out your tongue wouldn't kill you. I know of ways to stop the bleeding. Ways which involve shoving a hot coal into your mouth." From the deadly expression on his face Harry had no doubt that he would do it, without a second thought, if pushed.

An inability to fatally harm him didn't amount to an inability to harm him at all; he might have made a slight miscalculation in that regard.

"I'll pull my weight while I'm with you, I promise. I'm not out to be a burden; I can be useful."

"Useful?"

Something about his scoffing tone really set the little raven off; he clenched his fists in his lap and narrowed his green eyes into a sharp glare. "I may not be as strong or as fast or as tough as you are, I may only be a human and only sixteen but I'm neither worthless nor useless! I've had to earn my keep for almost sixteen years just to be given the scraps off my relative's table and be allowed to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs so don't you dare scoff at me as if I'm somehow less than you are just because I can't swing around a sword the size of my body! I can cook for you, at least, while we're in each other's company."

"In a week's time I require three small mouthfuls of food and enough water to fill a clam's shell. I have no need for a chef, boy. No matter how valuable that skill might be to a human it's useless to me, and that means that you're useless to me."

Harry turned red up to his ears. "I-I could clean your sword, then. Sharpen it. And care for your armor."

"I do that myself; you couldn't even lift my spaulders, let alone my sword."

"I can repair your uniform, if it rips. I know how to sew."

"The Order sends replacements for anything I break. Repair work isn't worth the trouble."

Red became crimson and angry floundering transformed into something closer to chagrin as he tried to work up the courage to play the only card that he had left in his arsenal. "I…that is to say, I've never…well…" he gripped the bottom of his tunic so tightly that his nails bit through the threadbare fabric and managed to squeak out "I'm a virgin."

The Claymore blinked at him slowly, like a lizard sunning itself on a rock. "Am I meant to pity you for that? Consider you deprived for never having had the chance to drag ash? Why does it matter to me that you've yet to be deflowered?"

Did he actually not understand what he was trying to offer him or was he pretending not to just to be cruel? The blush had crept from his face down the length of his neck and out across his chest. "Do I really need to spell this out for you?" the icy glare that he received was more than answer enough. "I've never…your face-at least-is attractive though your attitude could use a lot of work and I have nothing else worthwhile to offer you, apparently, so…"

"You're offering to let a monster bed you? You're more of an idiot than I thought." He reached for the collar around his neck and pulled it open with a metallic pop.

"Hey, that's a horrible thing to say to someone who's just given you a-."

His outrage was cut off by the abrupt ripping of fabric as he opened the uniform he wore, revealing what was underneath "still think that I'm 'attractive'?"

Harry wanted to be sick, from the shock of the grotesque sight if nothing else. The pale man's body was toned and beautiful, just like his face, but a massive gash marred the white skin running the length of his body from just above the clavicle downwards. Milky white skin transitioned to a glossy irritated red, pulled taught where the thick, blood stained fibers of the stitching which had been hastily sewn across the gaping wound to prevent his insides from spilling out onto the ground had been threaded through. He almost wretched, but caught himself at the last moment.

"I thought not." To the raven's relief, he replaced the fabric into an orderly state and refastened the collar. "Not that it matters either way; I wouldn't have accepted your offer regardless. All buggering you would lead to is my losing control of my Inferus half, and immediately proceeding to eat you."

Unable to pay more than menial attention to what the Claymore had just said, still too deep in shock from having seen the giant wound, Harry could do little more than splutter out a wholly ineloquent "What is that?"

"My Stigma; we all have them. They slit us open when we're still children and implant the flesh and blood of monsters into opening, creating a wound that never heals until we lose all traces of our humanity." If anything, the pale man seemed to find his shock amusing. "How did you think one became a Half-breed? Fairy dust? Idiot."

"Does it hurt?"

The question seemed to startle him, and for a moment the Claymore seemed off balance but he recovered quickly. "Once again, you're asking about things that do not in any way concern you." He sat down and propped himself back against his sword. "We're moving again at dawn; do not make me have to wake you up and do not slow me down. Am I understood boy?"

"Yes." The raven said miserably, scrapping together a small pile of mostly dry leaves into a passable enough bed and curling up on his side. "I wish you'd stop calling me 'boy'. I told you my name: It's Harry!"

He expected the Claymore to either sneer at him and say nothing or inform him that he didn't care. Instead, he leaned further back against his blade and informed him sharply "You will refer to me as 'Voldemort'."

A blue bird twittered in the branches overhead, fallen leaves and loose gravel crunching beneath their feet as they walked along the narrow ledge of the path as it wound its way along a steep embankment. The lower that they went and the closer that they came to the river visible rushing by below.

Harry's feet hurt and his steps were clumsy, causing him to teeter dangerously every now and then on the crumbling lip of the precipice. Despite the fact he kept his mouth shut and didn't complain, knowing full well that Voldemort wouldn't much appreciate such a disturbance.

They hadn't once spoken since the harsh "get moving" that the older man had delivered him that morning when the red and orange fingers of sunlight had first crept their way up over the horizon.

The sun was setting, now, and they hadn't once stopped to rest. Harry's feet were dragging gracelessly across the uneven ground, feeling more like sacs of pulverized gristle and bone than any real part of his body. The slowly dimming daylight reflected off the massive sword slung across the Claymore's back in dizzying prismatic patterns. The pale grey cloak behind him fluttering hypnotically in the wind.

Even with the terrible image of the Stigma slashed down the pale man's front still burned into his mind Harry couldn't completely stop himself from eyeing up the warrior from behind. The uniform he wore was practically skin tight, leaving very little to the imagination, and his muscular thighs were quite shapely.

The blade and the cloak that Voldemort wore conspired against him to hide what he really wanted to see, though. No fortuitous gusts of wind had come to his rescue and Harry wasn't about to risk losing his hands to move the cloak himself.

The Claymore stopped suddenly and turned his head to look at him over his shoulder. Harry managed to pull himself to a stop seconds before he bumped into him.

"You're tired, Harrison?"

He wished that he'd call him 'Harry' and not 'Harrison' but at least it was better than 'boy'. There was no reason for him to deny that he was tired now, and seeing as he'd been asked about it directly it could no longer be considered complaining.

He nodded. "A little. But I can keep going for as long as you want us to."

His silver eyes narrowed but the little white lie regarding his capabilities to keep moving went otherwise unaddressed. "We've gone far enough for one day; we'll camp by the river." He held his arm out to him, obviously expecting Harry to take it. He hesitated for a moment, but that led to the Claymore making a noise of annoyance which quickly had him obeying the unspoken request. "Hold on tightly. I don't want to have to be held up even more by having an unwanted tagalong that has to crawl around on broken stumps."

I'd rather not have to crawl around on broken stumps so I suppose we have common ground there. He wrapped both his hands around the metal bracer covering the length of his forearm; despite how small they were, his hands still almost managed to entirely encircle the width of the Claymore's limb, and for a brief moment he once again marveled at how he could possibly manage to possess the strength that he did.

His knuckles turned white against the silver metal, gripping it as hard as he could. Voldemort's motion was a glorious rush of speed and color, down over the embankment and skipping across the canopy of trees like a smooth stone sent skipping across a calm lake. Even in stopping his motion was graceful, the rocky river bank barely disturbed by the sudden appearance of his grieve-clad feet.

Harry's motion, however, didn't stop as Voldemort proceeded to toss him-clothes and all-into the river. The raven barely had the chance to yelp in surprise before he broke the surface, a cold sensation swamping his awareness as water forced its way into his mouth and nose. Disoriented but able to swing his feet underneath him Harry came up spluttering.

"You reek of sweat; scrub your skin and your clothes before you make me sick with your stink! That water should be clean enough for drinking as well."

"You could have just asked me to take a bath if it was bothering you so bloody much!" Harry ripped his now soaked and clinging shirt up over his head and tossed it into the water in front of him; it landed with a limp flop. "You didn't have to lob me into the river, bastard!"

Voldemort responded with a snide sneer before busying himself with starting a fire. Muttering darkly to himself and very much aware that the Claymore could hear it but not caring Harry busied himself with washing his clothes and scrubbing his skin until it turned faintly red before leaving the water.

The Claymore had gotten the fire started and had reassumed his statuesque rest position; eyes closed and chin resting against his chest. He didn't look up as he approached. More relieved than annoyed, if only slightly, Harry shook out his dripping hair and set about the task of hanging his clothing over the flames.

His stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him yet again of the fact that he hadn't eaten anything substantial since leaving the Stone Crest Inn in Ballycastle. Voldemort suddenly perked up again, though it was clear when his head turned back towards the trees that it wasn't the raven's state of hunger that had roused him.

"May I go and look for food nearby? I'm starving and won't be able to keep up with you tomorrow if I don't at least eat something."

"When I return you may go, but not before." He rose from his seated position with a single fluid motion and started off back towards the trees. "Remain here until then."

"Until you return from where?"

"That's none of your business."

"Well, how long will it take before you get back?"

"However long is necessary."

Annoyed that his companion-he only used this term in the barest sense-refused to give him even the most basic of answers, Harry glared after him as he disappeared into the darkening trees. His stomach grumbled again and he huffed.

I don't need his permission to do anything! We're only traveling together; he's not in charge of me. I don't have to wait for him to come back from who knows what after who knows how long and I'm not about to do so either! Turning his back on where the other man had disappeared, Harry headed off in the opposite direction. There must be something edible around here somewhere.

The sound of the river had faded away to a distant burble by the time Tom finally stopped, the metallic echo of his footsteps bouncing off the surrounding trees before dying away into silence.

"I have to say that you've caught me by surprise, 'Heartless'. Of all the Claymore in the Order's ranks I would have pegged you as the least likely monster to pick up a ragged little stray." Abraxas voice came from just off to his right; Tom turned his head and caught sight of the black clad man perched casually atop a boulder. "The boy is ruining your image, Voldemort. Why haven't you gotten rid of him?"

"Do you think I haven't tried to rid myself of my shadow, Abraxas? Twice, now, I've attempted to leave him behind. Twice, now, he's followed right on my heels. We've come to the agreement that I'll leave him in the first suitable human settlement outside of Gryffindor Province." Tom said. "He'll be gone soon."

"The first 'suitable' settlement sounds like an excuse; it allows you to keep your pet with you indefinitely so long as you can come up with a justification for the village or city in particular not being so." He hissed at him in reply but the black clad man ignored him. "And even if it's true what you claim and you don't wish to keep him with you, I'm sure you've heard the saying 'if you give a mouse a cookie'. When he asks you for milk, will you give him that too?"

"I haven't given him anything, yet he's still here. Short of killing him, there's no changing that and his annoyance isn't worth the cost."

"You wouldn't kill the boy even if he were to turn out to be an exception to the Golden Rule. You're fond of him, on some level. Even if you won't admit as much to even yourself, it's true."

"I don't give a damn about that child."

"Don't lie, Voldemort. Brittle falsehoods don't suit you." Abraxas drawled. "You're fond of that boy because you can see the ghost of yourself inside of him. Magical or not, he's everything you once were and can never be again. He radiates what you lack and it draws you to him like a moth to the flames of a fire. In some half-life capacity, being around him makes you feel human again. How sweetly sentimental."

Tom showed his teeth at the man, annoyance sparking yet further when he didn't offer up even the slightest flinch despite his deep growl. "If you're quite finished with weaving your fictional tales, Abraxas, I'd prefer to be informed of why you're here. Have I been assigned another job?"

"Indeed you have, Voldemort. Are the other two through with?" even through the darkness Tom's impeccable vision could still make out the man's snide smirk. "The reason why I ask is that it took you oh so very long in Ballycastle to complete a job which stood 'below your station'. Though I suppose you were…distracted."

"Is it worth my while, this time?" he demanded, refusing to show his handler the rise that he wanted.

"In some ways it is, but in others it isn't. You'll be facing a normal Inferi, if perhaps one that's a bit more powerful than usual, but this time there's fair enough justification for dispatching our top warrior to handle such a thing." A small draw string bag was lobbed at him; Tom caught it deftly with his left hand. "Given whom our client is our leaders have determined that they deserve the best. And that means you."

Tom removed his hand from within the bag and was met with the sight of round, tan pills. His eyes narrowed. "Why am I being given these damn things? Suppression Pills mess with my senses far too much to be of any use to me, never mind the fact that taking them would close the gap between me and my opponent by a large margin; I'd be facing the Inferi hiding in the city as a Twenty Four instead of as a One. On top of that, I wouldn't be able to sense the thing at all."

"Yet you would still be capable of handling it." He said. "What's wrong, Voldemort. I thought you wanted a challenge."

"There's a difference between a 'challenge' and a 'disadvantage'. Why have these even been handed to me? Simply to raise the stakes and make for some sort of show?"

"Don't be so dramatic. I've given you those pills because you won't be able to do your job without them; our services have been procured covertly and absolute discretion is required to not violate certain conventions held regarding those of 'dubious character'."

"'Dubious character'." Tom repeated, dropping the pills back into the bag and pulling it shut. "But the only city that gives any sort of damn about that is-."

"The Holy City of Avalon, yes."

"Why not send one of the others; one of the few who actually believe in their drivel about 'religion' and 'God'?"

"I've already told you, the Holy City deserves the best. And the best we have is you." He said. "Recall what I said about a failure to follow orders if you intend to refuse again. We'd prefer not to replace you with a sub-par successor before such is absolutely necessary but if you make it necessary than it will be done. An execution squad can be dispatched within two days; they'll find you within a month, depending on how hard you attempt to hide."

"I didn't say I wasn't going to do the job." Tom tucked the bag into the small pack at his side. "Just don't be surprised if you get complaints of 'Demonic blasphemy'; I don't do 'devout' very well."

"All the more reason to finish the job quickly, isn't it? There are enough pills in that bag to keep your eyes hidden for a month, though I wouldn't advise allowing it to drag on for that long." He said. "The suppressants become toxic in high doses, after all."

Tom grunted in disinterested response. "How do you propose getting my weapon passed the guards? The great sword is our signature, after all, and a bit of a glaring give away."

"You'll be given the concealment when you're a day outside the city. Making use of the boy by claiming he's your brother would also help to make it all seem more believable. Beyond that it's up to you."

"I understand. It should all be done within a week."

"The boy as well?"

"The boy is outside of the confines of my job."

"Is Avalon not a 'suitable human settlement outside of Gryffindor Province'?"

Tom walked away without dignifying the half-question with an answer. He'd dealt with Abraxas for more than long enough by now, at least so far as he was concerned, and figured it was about time he dealt with Harry's complaints about being hungry and needing food instead.

He'd forgotten how much of an absolute pain it was to have to eat three times a day just to function.

The fire was still going strong, popping and crackling beneath the damp clothing which had been stretched atop it, as he emerged from the trees but the bank was empty. The raven, nor any sign of him, wasn't anywhere to be seen.

One of the small muscles in his face twitched. That little brat's incapable of listening to anything I say!

It was getting dark rapidly now, and though he was very much aware that the raven had probably gotten himself lost out in the forest, or would end up that way soon, and equally tempt to leave him hanging in the wilderness as punishment for his disobedience Tom knew he couldn't do that.

There was too much of a risk that the idiot would get himself killed.

With all of his clothing wet, including his shoes, the little raven had proceeded barefoot over the rocky bank and into the trees and had left a small trail of blood from the resultant superficial cuts behind; combined with his scent trail Tom had more than the necessary tools left to him to hunt him down.

He didn't expect what he found.

It was the offensive stench of burned hair that first cued him in to the fact that something wasn't right, followed by the recognition of recently used magic hanging in the air. He sped his pace from a walk to what would be considered a run by a normal man and soon came upon the source of the smell.

Curled up into a quivering ball and half hidden under a berry bush, his tan skin smudged deep purple where the fruit had pressed against him, was his traveling companion; Harry's green eyes were fixed on him and he had a look of fear on his face but Tom wasn't paying him very much attention.

The forest immediately surrounding Harry and the bush he'd sheltered under looked as if a fire had come roaring through; the undergrowth had been reduced to ashes, the trees were blackened and the ground was scorched and ringed in by the embers of smoldering fallen leaves. The charcoaled bodies of what might have once been a small pack of wolves lay burned to death between them.

Claymore were built to hunt down the Inferi, and though they were used to kill Magicals as well they couldn't sense them. That was why he hadn't realized what the child was.

A Wizard, just as he had been before he'd been sold away and turned into a living weapon, and a powerful one at that. But to still be having accidental magic, accidental magic linked to strong emotions like fear especially, at the age that he was…

"You never learned to use your magic did you?" Harry flinched and shrank further back into the bush as he continued towards him; he looked like a terrified Fey, green eyes huge and glassy and wearing only the leaves of the bush and the ashes of the forest floor. "You kept quiet about what you were because you suspected that it would mean that you fell outside the Golden Rule. Clever. Luckily for you, I need you for my next job and it won't be long after that that I'll be able to leave you behind once and for all. There's no point in wasting the energy that it would take to kill you." He said. "Get up."

The command was soft, but harsh. The branches crackled as Harry shifted forward and then, slowly, stood up. He was a sight to see and a traitorous part of his mind, before being abruptly crushed and ground to dust beneath his heel, flashed back to the offer he'd made him just the night prior; no reason even be considering such things."

"Move." He stumbled, more than walked, and Tom ultimately ended up dragging the boy back towards the fire. "You need another bath; you're covered in ashes, dirt and fruit. While you're busy doing that I'll see about catching a fish for you to eat; you'll be able to cook it?"

The raven nodded at him, that same blank stare still fixed in place. Given time to calm down and rest he was certain that the boy would return to normal, but for now he'd enjoy the brief reprieve from his stubborn cheek. Tom watched him wobble off towards the river on thin unsteady legs while doing the best he could to beat back even the vaguest thoughts of his past.