WARNINGS: Death and rape, gore too.

Ch. 10

Courting the Enemy

"Ale: Are you manipulating me again?

T.C.: Try not to fall for it. I dare you."

― Steve Kluger

Snape wasn't sure what to think.

Last night, after his talk with Julian, he had felt confident in his joining with the boy. What with his charisma, promises that he prayed weren't empty, and his speech of his wonderful return to the Dark, it had seemed like the perfect thing to pull him out of the funk he had suffered through for the past 16 years. Ever since he had told the Dark Lord of the prophecy and had almost gotten his first love killed, he had felt so much guilt that he had easily joined the Light, all the while knowing that he would never be happy there.

So Julian's proposition had seemed like the most obvious and perfect choice for him. Merlin knew all this spying and stress from playing on no team but his own was beginning to kill him. Even if Julian hadn't given him a choice, he knew he would have slipped up in the next few years or so. It had only been a matter of time, especially since he hadn't even known what he was fighting for anymore.

But now, after that...charming display, he wasn't sure what to think. The last few minutes of the rat's torture hadn't been filled with screams like the past few hours. Instead, by the end, Pettigrew actually seemed happy. And that thought alone unwillingly sent chills down his spine. It had been a rather intense show, but mostly it was justJulian that scared the hell out of him, not the sight of a tortured and dead body.

And yes, that boy did scare him. For good reason too.

Not enough to actually bring any kind of emotion to his face, no, he had been through an entire war and an abusive childhood, he could take this, but it didn't mean Snape was immune to his heart pumping and adrenaline racing, a sure sign his fight-or-flight instincts were kicking in, meaning he was actually afraid.He noticed all of this with a keen interest however. Unlike most men his age, he actually enjoyed intense emotions, like fear. If only because he felt them so rarely. After everything he had been through...that sharp feeling in your gut, the breathing heavily, not from physical exertion, but exertion of your emotions forcibly, and the need to just run, to get anywhere from there, all of it was kind of enjoyable to him now.

It had truly been too long since he felt something that couldn't be easily tucked away behind strong Occlumency walls. So as he watched Julian, the seemingly innocent and sweetly intelligent boy with an angelic face, step up gracefully with such dilated pupils he could see them from here, and then gently trace one long, slender finger across his brow and suck the blood he had acquired from the act, he allowed the fear that coursed through him, the fear of prey being faced with an incredibly powerful predator, simply race through his veins, and enjoyed it; not once regretting his choice to join with Mr. Julian LaFaye.

Ah. How wonderful. Harry sighed.

The feel of blood on his face and hands gave him a feeling reminiscent of a mother's warm hug. In the face of death and his cool embrace, Julian felt completely at home.

He licked Peter's still warm neck a few times, reveling in the taste of that crimson goodness, but eventually quit, not wanting to damage himself by absorbing too much iron. It just wasn't good for you. As he straightened himself from his previous position of looming over one of his betrayer's now soulless and cold body, he took a long look around the room. The whole place was rather colorless, besides his own navy cloak, both his and the Dark Lord's bright eyes, and of course, the tempting blood that was inching its way,slowly,to the front line of Death Eater's who kneeled on the ground.

Harry slowly licked his lips, not noticing the way the Dark Lord leered at his bloody face. He couldn't resist taking one of his fingers and stripping away some of the delicious blood from his forehead, not wishing to waste any of it. Usually, his kills were just shoot, and leave. Most of the time, Julian didn't get a chance to properly enjoy it. This was one of those times he could, and he would definitely savor it for weeks.

He wandlessly cut off one of Pettigrew's fingers, in memory of his past attempt at escaping the authorities when he was found to be the betrayer of the Potter's, and sent it back to his home. Any murder that he fulfilled so personally, well, he had to keep a souvenir. It just didn't feel right if he didn't. As he licked his finger clean and moaned at the taste, Julian took his seat once again; acting as if nothing had happened. He cleaned up the mess that was once Peter without regret; he had gotten his fun from the torture and kill, so he no longer cared. He didn't clean himself though, he didn't quite want to be rid of the intensely enjoyable feeling of blood yet. Anything else: dirt, slime, sweat, was considered to be unclean in his book, but blood was pure; it made him even cleaner than he was before. So he soaked in the glorious red liquid and made sure to run his hands through his black curls a few times. He wanted it everywhere. Once he got comfortable again, he shot a curious look at the Dark Lord.

Why isn't he talking yet? Surely once I finished torturing and killing Peter he would just ignore me and continue with his speech. If I missed something important it would have been my fault for not paying attention.

While blazing red eyes focused on his own cool green pair, he raised one slim eyebrow, waiting for the Lord to proceed. Just before the silence became uncomfortable Voldemort whispered, "Thank you ever so for that display Montresor. I trust you'll treat myself and my Death Eaters to it again some day soon." Said man instantly smirked smugly at Lord Voldemort's words.

So the whole time he was just dazed with how I committed that murder and torture. I didn't know he was so easily distracted; wasn't even my best work. Someone needs to get out more and have some fun of his own. However, all the young assassin did was continue to smirk and bow his head in acceptance, head cocked slightly to the side.

"Of course my Lord. I wouldn't dream of not gifting you with entertainment again as soon as possible. Merely give me a time, date, and of course, a playmate." That last word was hissed quietly, but heard clearly by everyone in the room. Cool emeralds now lit with a fire similar to the Dark Lord's. In that moment, both thought of what havoc they could bring if they fought as one, and both couldn't help the shiver of pleasure that rushed down their spines at the idea.

Hermione Granger had always viewed herself as more of an asexual being. Meaning, the only thing that truly attracted her were books and the powerful knowledge that lay within them. The fact that many girls in her dorm room would stay up for hours gossiping about the many males in Hogwarts, was simply baffling to her. She'd rather face a jealous and/or pissed off Ron any day rather than that unique hell, thank you very much. However, the moment she saw the perfect face of Julian LaFaye, she could feel the need to gush over a boy like a "normal" teenage girl for the first time.

The tall, but lithely built boy looked even more handsome than Da Vinci's idea of physical perfection. With devilish lips, slightly curved eyebrows, high cheekbones, a sharp, but feminine jawline, perfectly pale, creamy skin, and the most vivid color of green she had ever seen encompassing his wide, innocent eyes, she could, for once, understand where all those bubble-headed girls were coming from. However, Hermione wasn't entirely shallow; the main reason why she was entranced was not for the green of those irises, but of the intelligence that made them glow and brighten in the lightly lit room.

His politeness to her and her friends was also a breathe of fresh air. Did no one in Gryffindor have manners? Said boy-noman, interrupted her thoughts of him with a compassionate tap of the hand and a pair of confused emeralds that no person, let alone a fifteen year old girl, could resist.

"Are you quite alright Hermione? I didn't mean to bore you with my escapades to China. You just wouldn't believe how many terrible things exist there. Young girls are still chucked away in favor of young boys, to carry on the family name of course, and children are still allowed to work in barely inhabitable factories. However, that's only the muggle side of it. The Wizarding World, well, I don't even know where to start." And with that, Julian manipulated the only person under 17 in the Order who posed a single threat to him.

Yet again, it was almost too easy. After his fun-filled time at Lord Voldemort's manor, he had quickly apparated out, but not before the first act of physical contact happened between the two. Just before he was going to spin around, the Dark Lord caught his shoulder, and both immediately shut out the rest of the world and focused on the feeling that emanated from that single tough. Julian had thought their magic playing and snuggling up together had felt good, but it was nothing compared to this.

From where the cold, white fingers of Lord Voldemort resided, intense waves of pleasure could be felt racing through his entire body and to his core. Julian moaned for a second before he got control over himself; that's how good it felt. Both pulled away at the same time, having had enough time to bask in the feeling, but realizing the time for fun was over. Now, it was time to analyze.

"Interesting…" Voldemort paused, not sure what else to say. He still wasn't quite familiar with how his little assassin was, so he was wary of how the boy would react. Even if it had felt very good, he didn't want the child to think there was anything between them. Luckily, he had nothing to fear.

"Yes, definitely. I had noticed that our magic responded powerfully to each other before this, but I just assumed it was because you are the Dark Lord.I suppose it's only natural for touch to act as a better conductor than the air. Did you ever feel such things with Lord Dumbledore? He is much stronger than me, but it may be that it's because of both of our extremely dark magic, along with the large and powerful cores we both have, that caused our magic to react to each other this way."

Voldemort paused and leaned against the wall, this new mystery intriguing him immensely. He had never had this type of reaction to anybody. He was also happy to see the person who shared this mystery with him was logical and intelligent, meaning someone who would look at this objectively, not emotionally.

"Definitely the second, if either. However, I've met many powerful dark wizards and I've never had this type of reaction to them. Perhaps our cores are just closely aligned." Julian didn't look up, but nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

"I see; a reasonable explanation, but I believe it to be a bit more complicated than just that. This will take further research and experimentation my Lord. I trust we can both look for information on our own?" The brat smirked cheekily, but surprisingly Lord Voldemort felt no need, or want, to hex the child. He was only slightly amused and fascinated.

"Yes, we can. Do not let this get in the way of your mission though. Consider this as more of an extracurricular activity, yes?" Now both grinned cheekily, but neither minded. At the moment, they weren't Lord and minion, or even a wealthy man and an immoral assassin; they were merely two intelligent people having a friendly exchange.

"Of course my Lord. I wouldn't dream of it."

However, I digress.

Yes, almost too easy. The men and woman in the Order, or those that lived within the walls of Black Manor, were sadly easily manipulated. Molly had been under his thumb right from the beginning and soon after her husband had been as well; with the help of a few stories about the many muggle inventions across the planet and different muggle customs. After them came the Granger muggleborn, who had been surprisingly intelligent, but easily influenced by his good looks, making her worthless.

He hadn't yet met all the Weasley children, only Ronald and the twins, but he had been pleasantly surprised by the two identical redheads. Not only were they quite amusing, they also didn't seem to share the same prejudices as the rest of their family, and seemed to suspect him of not being as innocent as he appeared as well. However, that hadn't turned them away from him. In fact, they seemed to only become more fascinated in him and the mystery surrounding him, and Julian was a little excited to see if the two intelligent, older boys would come join his cause.

While he would have no problem with killing them off like the others if they chose not to join him, but like with Snape, he took no joy from spilling the blood of those who were actually intelligent and worth saving. They were just so rare.

However, he had been having a bit of trouble with the other two members of the Golden Trio, as he had learned they were called, because of their jealousy towards him. He wasn't too worried though. Soon enough, Jason would fall just like Hermione, either from his charms or from Granger's nagging, and he honestly didn't give two shits about the youngest male Weasley. It didn't take a psychologist to understand the boy's uncomplicated personality.

He had always felt the need to be as great, or better, than each of his older siblings, therefore developing a harsh and childish jealousy for any who stole, or threatened to steal, what he thought to be his "rightful" thunder. And being best friends with both the bright mudblood and Chosen One gave him that uniqueness he so craved for within his home and family. He most likely thought that Julian would try to take his place, but soon he wouldn't feel the need to fear, not that he ever had. It wasn't like he would even spend enough time with the idiots to actually form a strong bond, thank Merlin, but even if he did, he wouldn't have put too much effort into it.

Besides, after a few weeks they would think of him as more of an adult, since he would be going on missions with the Order and spending more time with their parents than them, so they would stop trying to include him, as if he was lonely or something. It was such a foreign concept to him that he actually had a bit of trouble keeping his mask up when he realized it. He may be their age, but he wasn't some sad and depressed geek with no friends. He was a psychopathic assassin that was practically Lord Voldemort's right hand, not that they had any idea. It was still insanely funny though.

"So...Julian. What school do you go to? Or do you still go to school?" Hermione asked timidly. She felt like Ginny had when she had first seen Jason. He was just so...ugh! Green eyes quickly cleared and focused on her, making her feel like the most important girl in the world. Blue eyes in her peripheral vision narrowed, but she couldn't care less.

"Oh, I've never went to a magical school, if that's what you mean. The first few years of my life I went to a public muggle school, but after I learned basic math and how to read and write, I met my guardian, and I dropped out." Hermione looked at Julian with barely hidden awe. He became this powerful without going to school? She had unknowingly voiced her thoughts aloud and Julian laughed slightly.

"I'm not that powerful Hermione. Besides, like I mentioned, I had a guardian. He taught me much of what I already know." Warm brown eyes watered slightly with unshed tears, knowing the story of his parent by the tense of his sentence.

"When did he...die?"

Emeralds suddenly turned cold, and she knew she had breached unsafe and definitely restricted territory. Just as she was about to apologize, he lightly grasped her hand, and she couldn't help but love the feeling of his soft, warm palm.

"No apologies Hermione. It was long ago, even if the wounds still seem fresh. While I don't wish to speak of him, just know that he will always be the most important person in my life, whether he has gone to rest with Magic or will return to me in this life or the next. All I know is that when two souls make a connection as mine did with his, they always find a way to meet each other again."

Emeralds suddenly grabbed the attention of everyone in the room without even trying, and blazed with an emotion none of them could say they were familiar with.

"Take this into consideration for the days to come, my friends. All familiar souls, whether they be loved ones, friends, non magical ones, or even enemies; they never quite manage to stay away from us for long. They always return to us, willingly- or not."

"So Professor, what's our next step? I mean, the kid was cool with joining, but we don't really know what he's like or how well he fights. And since he defied You-Know-Who, there's no way he can be a spy like Snape-"

"Not that I would let him Sirius." Molly interrupted, but Lord Black ignored her entirely.

"So what's he gonna do? He's just a kid after all."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in amusement at each of his old students. Just like Molly, Albus was very wary of allowing their young Julian to fight, but he however, had a different reasoning. Not only did he wish to keep as many young people out of the war as possible, not that he had done very well in that endeavor, but something about the boy had just been so familiar. Eerily familiar to that of a schoolboy he had failed to save during WWll while he was busy with his famous battle with Grindelwald.

I lost two battles that year. One for my heart and one for the Wizarding World's future. And of course, for a lost orphaned boy who only wanted to prove himself to be something. Anything more than what others thought him to be at first glance.

Yes, Albus regretted a lot of the choices he had made. But this time, he would redeem himself.

At first, he had been completely willing to sacrifice Jason Potter. He was the Chosen One, and would have to defeat Voldemort, and probably end up dying in the process if his suspicions were correct. However, as time passed and he got to know the boy, the more he cared for him as his own grandson, and the more he realized he had no intentions of letting another innocent die in place of his mistakes.

Oh Arianna. How I failed you. He sighed internally.

That weight would never lift off his shoulders, and not once did he wish for it to. During his younger years he had let his own magic, self-importance, and his best friend's, Grindelwald's, narcissistic personality inflate his own ego to such a magnitude that he had actually thought he would join with his first, and only, lover, to take over the world and make it a better place.

It had been for the Greater Good after all.

Albus always shuddered at the thoughts of his younger self. He thanked Magic time and time again for making him see sense before it was too late. And not that he wouldn't ever go back to change it if he had the chance, a part of him was happy Arianna had died. If only to help ground him when his god-like complex acted up again. Dumbledore shook his old head slightly, beard swishing to and fro. He always managed to get caught up in memories; memories that shouldn't be thought of when he should be focusing on more important things. Like Julian LaFaye, aka Montresor.

The boy was a...piece of work. Albus, himself, couldn't detect any malicious intentions within the boy, but that had been the same situation with young Tom Riddle. The only thing that had clued him in was that single visit to the orphanage.

I can make them hurt-if I want.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have had a clue, like the rest of the professors. And after a few years, his suspicions had lessened. He always thought that perhaps Tom had just been bullied often at his "home", but once he felt the loving embrace of Hogwarts, he had managed to heal. However, all his dying inklings of something not being quite right with the too smart, too handsome, too polite, just overall too perfect boy were suddenly resurrected the day the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Only one Parselmouth lived within the entire school, that he was aware of, and that person was the one and only Tom Riddle.

And from that day onward Albus Dumbledore watched as the most powerful and feared Dark Lord in history grew up and wreaked havoc across the whole British Wizarding community, and sooner rather than later, world. Dumbledore sometimes liked to reminisce about Tom as the smart and charismatic young boy he had once been. Unlike many Gryffindors, Albus didn't hold any sort of prejudice for the Slytherins. That might also be because of his age, but most people over a century old wouldn't care for such frivolities. In fact, he had something akin to respect for the ambitious house.

In his opinion, Slytherins were the most honest of the lot. Every person lied and manipulated to get their way, that was just the way the world was, but Slytherins admitted it without shame, and did they do it well. He often wished Tom was still like that. In his honest opinion, he agreed with many things Tom had used to speak of in the 50's and 60's. Dark creatures, for one, deserved rights. Along with that, so many magics that were banned, definitely shouldn't be. Of course there were some that were altogether deadly and shouldn't be allowed to be used under any circumstances, but the restrictions in place now were just ridiculous. Not that Dumbledore always believed that to be true.

Back then, he had been completely against anything dark because he had still been getting over Grindelwald. Now, Dumbledore realized that magic was just that, magic. In its essence, magic was neither Light nor Dark. It just was. However, how you used that magic was what should be taken into consideration, in the case of laws anyhow.

There were more things he didn't agree with though; like blood purity and distancing themselves from muggles. While he knew the whole bloody purity angle made by Tom was just to generate support from powerful Pureblood ministry officials and their rich families, he knew Voldemort truly believed in completely closing the Wizarding World off from muggles. In very few situations did Albus look through rose-tinted glasses, but sadly, this happened to be one of them.

Dumbledore didn't want to believe magic would be persecuted. He wanted to believe that everyone could live in harmony if they just slowly outed themselves. And just like men are willful to do, he put his old wizened head into some proverbial sand and pretended all was well. Besides that, Dumbledore now agreed with most of Tom's old ideals. What he completely disagreed with though, were his ways of achieving said ideals. Instead of trying to go through the courts, when Tom hadn't seen anything happening or any people joining her revolution, he had started an all-out war with Wizarding Britain, something Dumbledore could not agree with.

Why shed more blood? They had just gotten out of the war with Grindelwald, even if there hadn't been too many wizarding casualties, there had been loads of muggle ones. Why must there be more lives lost all because someone didn't agree with you? So Dumbledore, unintentionally, made himself the beacon of hope again, and tried to stop someone who he had failed,again. All in all, Dumbledore was justtired. He just wanted to rest, but he couldn't quite yet. He still had to save everyone, and this time, he wouldn't let any innocent take the fall.

Not like Arianna had.

"Please! Just stop it you bastard. Leave us both alone!" A frail woman yelled.

Harry looked on in silence as the stocky male smacked her in the face. Hard. He distantly noticed that that would leave a nasty bruise in the morning. She was very petite, and had pretty blue eyes with small golden shards. With her long white-gold hair that reminded him of the Malfoy's, she was quite the catch. But all those bruises on her took away her beauty, instead making her appear weak and fragile. Weakness in no way attracted him. It just made him want to squish whoever it was that showed it like the bug they were.

He cocked his gun, hands completely steady and eyes unfeeling. The man took another hit, but he didn't feel the need to hurry. Besides, the way his barrel looked in the moonlight was quite captivating. Green and silver truly were a great combination. Another hard smack could be seen, and this time the woman fell down on her side. The man was actually quite large, making a sliver of respect for the woman who could take such harsh blows form for her, and he had shortly cropped brown hair.

Looks like military. Maybe he was a jackass to one of his people and that's why they want him dead.

Then, he lifted her up again, easily, as if she were a doll, and threw her on the table, whilst removing the thin nightdress she had been wearing a few moments before.

Or maybe he raped one of them. Seems to be common practice between these two.

Suddenly, he felt the urge to eat a cinnamon roll.

I wonder if I have any at the house. I hope so, because the urge won't leave until I get one.

For a few minutes, while he contemplated making himself that delicious treat, he was completely oblivious to what the poor woman was going through. He could easily hear her screams and whimpers as he raped her small, helpless body, but he honestly couldn't care less. He needed some cinnomany goodness! He blinked his eyes owlishly a second later; realizing that he had gotten off track, and internally promised himself the sweet, gooey gift once he went back home. He quickly took his shot, hitting the 40 year old right in the back of the head and apathetically watched as the woman screamed bloody murder.

Just as he started packing away his stuff, he noticed her frightened eyes lock on him, and without a second thought, he shot her right in her pretty face too. Couldn't have witnesses after all. He started packing again,really, couldn't these people even attempt to not make his job any harder?, when he saw the face of a young boy pop out of one of the small bedrooms. He took one look at the two bodies, one of his father and the other of his mother, and let out a silent scream, unknowingly falling to his knees in the process.

His mother's usually perfect face that always became an easy smile at the sight of her special little boy was blown completely to bits. One of her beautiful eyes had even made its way across the room. His father, however, had his brains blown apart instead, red and grey mixing together into one all in all, unappealing mass and it sure didn't look as cool as it did on those zombie shows. It just looked freaking terrifying and disgusting.

Just as he could feel himself about to actually scream, he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder and he turned around slowly. In front of him stood a boy no older than 16, dressed in all black. He didn't notice the shotgun attached to his back and didn't notice the wand in his hand. Compassionate green eyes were all that filled his sight and he grabbed on to the boy, seeking comfort and momentarily forgetting about what he had just seen.

"Hey there kid. My name's Harry. What's yours?" The small child, no older than seven, looked up with a quiver in his lip, eyes the same as his beautiful mother's.

"I'm I-isaac. Are-are you an angel? Are you gonna save my mama and papa?" Harry cocked his head to the side and fingered one of Isaac's loose brown curls. The boy immediately leaned in to the touch.

"No, I can't save them now. They have passed. But I will give you two choices young Isaac." The small boy nodded shakily, fearing the worst, but he calmed down considerably at the sight of those caring, honest emeralds.

"One, I can take away all your memories. You won't have to deal with having to feel the pain of them dying. I'll make sure to take you to the best family I can find and you can live happily ever after. Without your parents. Or, I can take you to your mama and papa, but you'll never be able to come here again. You'll have to leave your friends, school, and everything else. But you'll be with them. I swear." Isaac bit his lip thoughtfully, not sure on what he should do. But eventually, he decided on the obvious choice. One that both of them had known he would choose all along.

"Pinkie promise I'll be with them?" And Harry gave him the most gorgeous grin at the words, one even better than his mama's, and took his pinkie in his own, while pulling him into a strong, but gentle embrace.

"Pinkie promise." he whispered, and Harry's wand eased its way out of his sleeve, and without a single word, Isaac's eyes became lifeless just like his mother's.

A/N: that thing with touching between Voldemort and Harry was taken from Athey, who is an AMAZING writer of fanfiction. I don't remember what her story was called, but I took it from her. I didn't ask permission, but it's her idea (that I know of) so I'll give credit where it's due. Also, all because I have that between Voldemort and Harry DOES NOT mean this is a Voldemort/Harry pairing. I'm leaning towards gen for this story, but it could end up being slash. Anyway, hope you liked. Please review and let me know your thoughts.