Author's Note: I need to make this clear. What happens in The Misadventure dos Neville Longbottom are just stories. They're the characters that won't actually be appearing in the AU. There is no Lord Voldemort or Dumbledore or Neville. This is my way to incorporate them. It's just a story within a story. Nothing more. Also, sorry for the sporadic updates, but college trumps FFN every time. Reality and all that jazz…

Warnings: Slash, non-Slash (Hetero), Abuse, AU, anything else I don't consider worth warning you over…

Disclaimer: Well, this IS an AU…

Harry flipped a pancake with ease, and when Riddle came out of his room, hair tousled from sleep, in nothing but a pair of black, disheveled pants and a pistol in his hand, the boy didn't even blink.

"Morning to you, too." Harry placed the pancake on a plate along with the two others he had made and poured the last of the batter into the pan. Riddle easily lowered his weapon and, after turning the safety on, slipped it easily into the rim of his pants.

"Morning." Riddle's voice was deep and gruff, and Harry suppressed a shiver.

"Hey, I know it's your house and all," Harry flipped the pancake over, "but would you mind keeping it down next time? Your conquests are kind of hard to sleep through." Harry had never been one to beat around the bush.

"What? Do you not like someone else being where you should be?" Riddle, if nothing else, was a cocky son of a bitch. Harry placed the final pancake on the plate before turning around.

"Look, Riddle, you're hot. I'll give you that." Green connected with red-brown. "That doesn't mean I want you. And if I did want you, I wouldn't want you while you're willing to go around fucking whoever the hell you please. You've already made it clear that I'm stuck living here. All I'm asking is that you give me the courtesy of sleep." Harry didn't think that was too much to ask. For a long moment, Riddle didn't say anything, and Harry took that as a sign that he was finished with the topic at hand. The green eyed boy turned around to get the two plates and put one in front of Riddle before taking his own seat. Just because the older man was a rude bastard didn't mean that Harry was.

For a moment, Riddle just looked at him, then the silence was broken and the older man opened his mouth.

"Why are you so different?" Riddle seemed, for lack of a better word, baffled.

"In comparison to whom?" There were a lot of reasons that Harry was different from a lot of people.

"Everyone. You don't grovel at my feet for want of what I have or cower for fear of what I could do to you. Do you even realize what I could do to you? For you?" Oh, Harry knew. There wasn't a question about that.

"You could kill me, Riddle. I'm not under the impression that I could, against all odds, defeat you. At the same time, I know that—" Harry stopped, unsure of how much he wanted to tell Riddle, but he knew that being honest wasn't a quality he wanted to give up completely, "—if I let you get ahold of me, you could take me apart seam by seam, and I would have no choice but to love every moment of it." Chocolate rubies dilated at the thought of doing just that, and Harry forced himself to continue. "That doesn't mean I'm going to give into you. No amount of pleasure or pain will convince me to go against waiting for someone whom I love who loves me back, and that someone isn't you." Harry didn't care what Riddle did to him. He wasn't giving in.

"I could make you love me." Riddle was staring straight at Harry, but neither of them was smiling.

"Maybe, but you still wouldn't love me, so I still wouldn't cave to you." There was no way he would win. "Riddle, you gave up any chances you had of ever being with me the day you promised not to take me until I was begging for it. You won't go back on your word, and I won't beg." There was a sense of finality in the sentence, and Harry expected Riddle to back off. He expected the older man to give an argument for why Harry was being stupid.

"I was in an orphanage for a long time when I was younger." Harry hadn't expected that. "My mother tricked my father into sleeping with her, but he refused to take responsibility for the child he was having with her. When she went to his doorstep with me in hand on a cold, winter night, he turned her away without so much as batting an eyelash, his new family sitting cozily inside of his mansion. She took me to the orphanage that night and killed herself." Green eyes widened.

"That's why you killed your father." No, Harry hadn't been expecting that at all.

"Yes. It took me until I was sixteen to finally do it, but when I did… Well, they say vengeance is sweet for a reason." Riddle had yet to break eye contact, and Harry, for the first time in a long time, felt on edge. "It took me ten years to work up to the perfect murder, but I was patient, and I never faltered. Do you know why?" Harry's mouth went dry, and he found himself answering without his consent.

"Because you wanted it." Harry had wanted to kill Vernon like that, but he had never planned it out. There was too much hope that one day things would turn around. Riddle's lips turned upwards in confirmation.

"Because I wanted it. I wanted it more than I wanted anything else for the longest time, and I was determined to have it. You, Harry, fall into the same category." And he was just as determined as he was all those years ago. Time didn't matter to Riddle. He was planning on getting Harry one way or another.

The battle of wills had truly begun.

(***Iridescent***)

Tom couldn't explain why he wanted Harry so badly. He couldn't say what made the boy so irresistible. Perhaps it was the defiance in emerald orbs? Or maybe the fact that he could never be sure what Harry was actually up to. Maybe it was the simple fact that the boy had said no. He really wasn't sure. The only thing he positively knew was that he did, in fact, want the younger man.

Which was why it pissed him off when he saw Harry with the Diggory boy.

Which was why he had put it on his personal agenda to seek the young heir out.

"So, what exactly is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Diggory also had windswept hair, but he couldn't pull it off like Harry could. Overall, Tom wasn't impressed.

"What's your relationship with Harry?" That was what mattered. Diggory's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'm his best friend. What about you?" Diggory wasn't about to let this be the interrogation Tom had intended.

"His lover." There was no hesitation in his answer, as it may as well have been true. Hazel eyes widened.

"You?" And chocolate rubies narrowed.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Tom would be the first to say that he was an intimidating man. Judging by the flash of fear that went through Diggory's eyes, he wouldn't oppose to being the second.

"Nah, man. You just don't seem like his… type." Not Harry's type? Harry had said something similar to that before.

"And what, pray tell, is his type?" Tom sounded menacing, but he was genuinely curious.

"Um, I don't know. Not you? He wants someone who cares about him. He wants a man who loves him for who he is. He wants someone who isn't self-absorbed. He wants someone who isn't you." Quite clearly, Diggory didn't think that Tom deserved Harry, and he wasn't afraid to state it. Well, not while they were in a crowded location, anyhow.

"And you think you fit the bill?" That was what Tom had actually come for. He wanted to know if he had competition.

"I know I do." Tom's eyes narrowed, and Diggory couldn't hold his gaze. There was a dark pause between them before he continued. "But he's a little brother to me. The love I feel for him isn't something that can provide him what he craves. If the love you feel for him – assuming you're even capable of such a thing – can fulfill his needs, I won't stand in your way. Don't think for a moment that I'm just going to sit here while you hurt him though." Their gazes met again, and this time Diggory held it just long enough to get a challenge out. "I may not be competition, but that shouldn't make you any less wary of my sway over him." Diggory thought he could take Harry away from Tom. As the young man walked away, he was clearly unaware of what a powerful enemy he had just made.

Or perhaps he was just smart enough to run away before he could find out.

(***Iridescent***)

Harry ran into his chemistry class, late. He gave a quick apology, eyes connecting with Professor Snape's long enough to see the irritation flashing in dark orbs, before looking over to his usual 'I'm-extra-late-today-and-don't-want-to-gain-extra-attention-by-seeking-out-the-seat-beside-of-Cedric' seat. He blinked when he saw Malfoy in it.

Yet, even without looking, he could feel Snape's stare demanding him to take a seat, so Harry quickly found Cedric and took his seat.

"Mr. Potter, you took the time to interrupt my class with your tardiness. Surely you can spare the time to pay attention?" Snape, much less nice than when they were alone, easily got Harry's attention.

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." He could hear Malfoy snicker in the background, but he paid it no heed. The other boy would end up telling Harry what was going on within the day. Snape's eyes connected with Harry's again, and the young man saw a flash that he wasn't used to being there. It was almost as though he had seen something that he liked, which was impossible, as Snape hated everything but chemistry.

Before they could get back to the lesson, a phone rang. Harry's shoulder's stiffened in the immediate reaction of thinking it was his own, but he didn't recognize the bland ringtone, so he switched from worrying about himself to praying for the poor soul that dared not turn off his or her phone in Snape's presence.

And then Snape held up a hand for the class to become silent and answered his phone.

Perhaps the world was ending?

"Don't speak." Harry couldn't have said whether the order had been directed at the class or the person on the other end of the line, but there was enough authority in it that he was sure both listened.

A silent moment passed, and then Snape clicked his phone shut and dismissed the class.

Slowly, as though no one was sure whether he was serious or not, people began to file out of the classroom. Harry turned to share a joke with Cedric about how he had lucked out in his timing, but Snape's voice stopped him.

"Not you." Harry hadn't been looking at his teacher, but he automatically knew that the words were directed at him. Cedric tossed him an apologetic smile, which Harry easily returned, before filing out of the room with everyone else.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry had been alone with the man so many times from their tutoring sessions that their situation almost seemed normal.

"Potter, if I tell you something, you must keep it to yourself. Do you understand me?" Snape's tone was even more serious than usual, if possible. Harry, slightly warily, nodded. "I'm trying to find The Boy Who Lived." And, quite suddenly, Harry wished he had stayed in bed.

"W-what? Why?" A suspicious look entered Snape's eyes, as Harry had never stuttered before, but it was gone just as quickly as it had come.

"I knew his parents, and if the stories that I had heard about his extended family were true, he wasn't, maybe still isn't, in a good place. I want to see him, just to know how he's turned out." He confided his intentions in Harry, but the boy's mind was doing like his words and stuttering to a halt.

"You knew his parents?" How many people was he going to randomly learn knew them? "Then you know who he is?" Impossible. Snape had never shown any knowledge that Harry was…

"Yes, I did. I'm not sure what his actual name is. They went into hiding before he was born, and his name was never released. Not even their second secret keeper knew the name." Sec- Wait, what? The confusion must have shown on Harry's features as Snape went on to explain. "They had a first secret keeper, Sirius Black, but everyone knew he was the secret keeper, so he passed the position onto Peter Pettigrew with only he and the Potter's knowledge. It was assumed that Black betrayed them, but I don't believe so." There was so much to process.

"So… You want to help him?" Harry looked Snape straight in the eyes, but even as the man answered in an affirmative, his deep, dark orbs gave nothing away. Harry, for a moment, contemplated telling him. Then the moment ended. He wasn't about to blow his cover for a teacher who only sometimes tolerated him. "Why tell me this?" Harry looked just as confused as he felt.

"Because he'll be around your age. If I find him, I would like you to be there to help comfort him. The information I'll be presenting will be a lot to take in, and I know you'll approve of my methods." His methods?

But Harry couldn't force himself to ask any more questions. His head was spinning.

"I'll think about it, Professor." And the, without another word or glance in his elder's directions, Harry left. When he bumped into Draco outside of the building, he was surprised. It had slipped his mind that the boy had been in the classroom.

"What's the matter, Potter? Not used to people actually wanting you around?" His tone was snide, but Harry was too wrapped up in his previous conversation to care. He brushed past the other boy without a word. "You can run, but put yourself in the other guy's shoes! You would want help, too, wouldn't you?" The words were shouted, but they still seemed muffled to Harry's ears. It wouldn't be for another few hours that he would realize that Draco had known what had one on in the room.

(***Iridescent***)

Draco smiled at his long time mentor, Severus Snape. The man had been Draco's private tutor for as long as he could remember; one of his father's business endeavors. He had long ago become one of Draco's greatest friends.

"Hey, Sev. How'd it go?" Severus may have looked like his same stone-faced self to anyone else, but Draco could see the slightest of flushes on the older man's cheeks. He was excited.

"He said he would think about it." His voice didn't change pitch, but Draco knew him too well for him to believe Severus was as collected as he seemed.

"You know, I don't see why you like him so much." Draco couldn't understand why everyone he was close with had a thing for Potter. But if Severus had the green eyed boy, Tom would be Draco's again. So, despite the fact that Severus would treat Harry better than Draco would prefer, (as Severus was a kind man at heart) it was the necessary means to a much preferred end.

"He's perfect. He's almost what I pictured The-Boy-Who-Lived to look like, only better." What could have been mistaken for a smile flashed across the man's lips. Draco looked at his nails with half-interest.

"Yeah, what's your deal with that kid, anyhow? You've never been one for a hero-complex." In fact, Severus hated heroes. He thought them to be ridiculous and attention-seeking.

"I just remember when the whole ordeal happened, and I would like to see what's become of him. Help him, if possible. I know what he needs." There was something cryptic in his words that caught Draco's interest.

"What does he need?" What could Severus possibly do for a boy he'd never met?

"It'll be clear soon enough." Draco stared for a long moment before returning his attention to his nails. Severus really did love to dance around his answers.

"Whatever."

(***Iridescent***)

Rodolphus stroked Sirius's back lovingly. The younger man had fallen asleep on him while watching a movie, and Rodolphus took the time to admire his husband. Sirius was a handsome man. He had a strong jaw line and broad shoulders. He was very well built with shaggy black hair. His stormy grey eyes were hidden by fleshy lids, but Rodolphus would always be able to remember how they look. They were burned into his memory.

They showed him what it was like to truly be loved.

Sure, Sirius would deny being in love with him, but Rodolphus knew better. He had heard the words.

Once.

Rodolphus chuckled at the way Sirius looked at the world full of wonder. It was his first time in Vegas, and he wasn't letting anything get him down. In fact, to make sure that he would keep in high spirits, he had downed a few too many shots of vodka.

"Rudy! Rudy! Look over there! Look at that one!" Sirius pointed towards a tall building excitedly, but Rodolphus didn't look at it. He was too busy admiring the way that Sirius smiled and how his eyes sparkled. Even the way he stumbled around was adorable.

"Yes, yes, Sirius." He agreed nonchalantly, but humor was deep in his tone.

"N-no, Rudy! You didn't—didn't even look!" But Rodolphus couldn't tear his eyes away from Sirius. "You want to hear a secret?" Rodolphus humored him.

"Sure, Sirius." After a moment, the younger man leaned up and whispered (rather loudly, but the drunken Sirius had thought it to be a whisper) into Rodolphus's ear.

"I love you." Despite the fact that it was louder than the man had intended, Sirius didn't sound drunk. Sirius pulled back and looked Rodolphus in the eyes, his charming smile firmly in place.

"Marry me." Rodolphus hadn't expected the words to slip past his lips, but he didn't regret them.

Not with those beautifully stormy eyes agreeing to his request.

And despite the fact that Sirius had drawn up the divorce papers in his shock, he didn't often press Rodolphus to sign them. He hadn't done so in years, actually. Sirius didn't want to leave Rodolphus's side any more than Rodolphus wanted to leave Sirius's.

And nothing could make them.

(***Iridescent***)

"I'm off to go collect." Bellatrix grinned, knowing that blood would be spilled before they would get their money. Tom glanced up from his work, stopping her on a dime. "Yes, Tom?" She loved it when he looked her in the eyes. It was a thrill more wonderful than anything she had ever experienced. His eyes made her feel like the devil, himself was asking for the most pleasurable of payments.

"Rodolphus will take this one." Her blood ran cold. Rodolphus? He couldn't take her job! He had taken her last fight! And her dinner plans with Tom! He was taking everything!

"But… Why?" Her voice sounded more helpless than she ever liked it to be, but there was no helping that. She couldn't be less herself when Tom was unhappy with her. She needed his approval. She craved it.

"Do I need a reason?" His voice demanded that she back down without raising a single octave.

Very quietly, she sat back down. Rodolphus left the room.

"Hey, Riddle, the book isn't balancing. Is there something you forgot to write down?" Potter walked over to Tom's desk to show him the check book, and Bellatrix watched uselessly as Tom wound a strong arm around the younger man's waist. This wasn't like the lusty attack he had with Draco. Tom almost seemed as though he cared if Potter was comfortable. And Potter rolled his eyes. He huffed. But he didn't attempt to push Tom away.

What was going on?

"Hey, Harry! You aren't bitching about Tom being touchy anymore! Is there something you want to tell me?" Sirius waggled his eyebrows obnoxiously, but Bellatrix couldn't berate him now. She needed to hear the answer. Potter shrugged, seemingly unperturbed as he sat the check book on Tom's desk, getting out of Tom's grasp just after. Why did Tom simply let him go?

"Nah. Riddle's just been a little nicer than usual and fighting him gets me in a lot worse situations than letting him hug me here and there. As long as he doesn't overstep his boundaries, I don't particularly care." He walked away, as though that was all he had to say.

"You—You can't give tom boundaries. He can do as he pleases!" She couldn't allow this boy's ego to grow so out of control!

"It's fine, Bellatrix." Crimson chocolate pools met easily with her own. They didn't hold the same emotion as when he had been gazing hungrily at Potter. He didn't want or crave her. He didn't care. "If he gets out of hand, I can take care of him myself." Since when had Tom become so complacent? Anyone who denied him (Had anyone ever actually denied him?) had been ripped apart before this. Why was Potter allowed to look on without fear?

"But…" His eyes narrowed at her weak interjection.

"Take a page from Rodolphus's book and trust that a single man won't be too much for me to handle." And it was back to Rodolphus.

Rodolphus told Tom he could let Harry walk all over him.

Rodolphus took her fight.

Rodolphus took her job.

At that moment, Rodolphus walked easily back into the room. He was suave, and he sat deposit slip easily in front of Tom.

"Good job." Tom's voice was just as beautiful as the rest of him, but it hadn't been directed at her.

Rodolphus had stolen her praise.

Potter walked back over to get the slip. Rodolphus walked towards the door before turning back to say something else. He was facing the desk, away from her and towards everyone else. Before he could turn back, Bellatrix knew what she had to do. She stood quickly, and her foot shot out to hit him behind the knee. Had he not been so comfortable in his place of work, she never would have landed the hit. As it was, he spun in surprise as he fell, and her gun was cocked and pointing at him before he hit the ground. If he moved for his own gun, he was dead. She could see Potter and Tom and Sirius staring, and she could tell that they held the same information. If anyone reached for anything, Rodolphus was dead.

They didn't know the truth. They didn't realize he was dead anyways.

Maybe if Ron was here, he could have figured it out. Maybe he could have even come up with a plan to save Rodolphus. But he was out with Hermione, and everyone else would pay for that.

"Bellatrix, what are you—" For the first time, she cut Tom off.

"I'm saving you. Rodolphus is clearly trying to overtake you. He's placing terrible ideas into your head about fights and collections, and he's letting you think that your little whore can walk all over you! He's degrading you, and I won't let him!" She wanted to shoot him in just the right spot. She wanted his blood to splash onto her, and she wanted to taste the liquid as it exited his body.

Rodolphus only looked at her for a moment before turning his attention to Sirius.

"It's going to be fine." Reassurance for the man who didn't love him. Pathetic. Bellatrix actually laughed and took a step closer to try and regain his attention to the barrel of her gun. He didn't look.

"He's right! As soon as this is over, you won't have to worry about those divorce papers. I'm taking care of you, dear cousin." The room was soundproof. The carpet was being replaced Thursday anyhow. It was perfect.

"Bellatrix, stop this." It was a direct order, and Bellatrix almost obeyed out of pure reflex. She made herself hold strong.

"N-no. No, this is for you, Tom!" He words were followed shortly by a small, rare, genuine smile from Rodolphus and three simple words.

"I love you." He hadn't given her his attention yet. He was saying goodbye.

He knew the truth now, too.

"No, Rudy. We're going to get you out of this! I need someone to spar with and fight with and race with and talk to and joke with and—and—" Sirius cut himself off, and Rodolphus shifted, as though to comfort him, but grey eyes flickered back to the gun, reminding his to stay very, very still. He was lucky that she hadn't already shot him, and he knew it. She was giving him his goodbye. That way, Tom wouldn't be mad at her for making Sirius sad. She was being generous.

"I love you, Sirius." That was all Rodolphus had to say. She had only heard him say it a few times before, but it was more powerful, more true each time. She could see Sirius, her idiot of a cousin, was near tears. He needed to hurry his goodbye.

"I—" Potter stopped him.

"Lower your gun, Bellatrix." His voice wasn't emotional. His eyes weren't teary. They were hard.

"Ha! You think you can—" And then Potter interrupted her, too.

"I'll give you to the count of seven, and then you're dead." She kept her gun and attention trained on Rodolphus, in case he tried to make a move, but Potter's threat was funny enough to cause her to laugh.

"Awe! Ickle baby Potter is going to—"

"One." His eyes didn't waver. She grinned wider. "Two." He was actually counting for her! Soon enough, his pace would waver as he hoped that she would back out, and then… "Three." Then the joke would be revealed.

"You can't be seri—"

"Four." His tone was cold. Her smile wavered. She knew he couldn't do anything, but she had also thought that when he had stepped into the rink so long ago. He was only trying to scare her. "Five." It wouldn't work.

"Six." Rodolphus was going to die.

"Seven." And the next thing she knew, his hand was inside of Tom's jacket, and faster than she could react, he had cocked Tom's Glock and pulled the trigger. Her life was over before she hit the floor.