Accord
Harry was standing in what he now considered the strategy room when Severus swept in.
"I have news, my Lord."
He handed the medical reports back to Narcissa. "We will continue this later."
She inclined her head gracefully and turned away, toward the table and maps.
Harry left the room, knowing Severus was following. Not due to any logical process but because the man's magic pressed against him. By the time they reached the warded study, Harry felt anxious. Intellectually he knew that the press of insistent magic meant Severus was pissed, but emotionally his heart pounded in his chest with reckless abandon. He almost thrilled in having the man's fierce attention, feeling his powerful magic press against his own.
He shook his head hard. Maybe lack of sleep was finally catching up to him because surly those weren't thoughts he'd have in his right mind. Putting distance between them, he settled into his chair. Severus marched right up, bypassing his chair, and leaned forward, both hands pressed to the dark wood of the antique desk.
"What were you thinking? Or should I say attempting to think," Severus snarled with a vicious sneer. "Since it's obvious you lack any sense!"
Harry frowned, sufficiently distracted now. "I thought you'd be impressed with the treaty."
"Why not simply allow me to tell Albus of the switch?" Dark eyes blazed into his own with barely restrained fury. "Why not tell the whole bloody world?"
"I used the mode of the Dark addressing other powers," Harry said defensively, crossing his arms. "Why would that cast me in doubt?"
"Because, you fool, Voldemort is a Dark Lord, not a measly follower of Dark doctrine." Severus pushed himself straight and glared fiercely. "He is more than a leader; he embodies all that the Dark is. Can you honestly believe he'd ask for help? And if he did propose such a harebrained scheme, would he choose the alliance that creates a balance of the powers? Never in history has that particular alliance treaty been suggested by the Dark! Only imposed upon it!"
Harry rubbed at his forehead, trying to hold on to his temper, but Severus' aggressive pose and the harsh words were making it difficult. "No. I don't think he would."
"So what were you thinking, you simpleton? You should have consulted me! The Death Eaters are already mumbling. Lucius' contacts in the Ministry alerted him almost the instant you sent the blasted thing to Fudge!"
"I know…"
"You know…" The snide disdain that dripped from the Potion Master's words threw him over the edge. "That's what you have to say for yourself?"
Harry exploded from his chair and slammed his hands down with a slap.
"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up! Maybe Voldemort wouldn't have done what I did, but it had to be done, and you know it. Voldemort wouldn't do this, Voldemort wouldn't do that! Be fucking grateful that I'm not your precious Lord Voldemort or we'd be slaughtered by now by the Muggles!" Harry came around the desk, advancing on the hateful man. "I think it's safe to say that the only chance we have is to do exactly what I'm doing! So yeah! It puts pressure on me. People are going to be watching more closely. Let them watch! They always do anyway! And if they do figure it out, they're still bound to me, not Voldemort, through the Dark bloody Mark! I have more things to worry about right now!"
Severus held his ground, his arms linking across his chest as he arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.
Harry leaned forward until they were practically nose to nose, poisonous red glaring into vicious black. "You have no idea what I have to deal with every fucking day. The injured are suffering complications! The Dark villages are clamoring for a Death Eater in permanent residence in case the alarm doesn't bloody work!" Shoving his finger forward he poked Severus in the shoulder. "I have Death Eaters thinking we're in here shagging because what else could we possibly be doing for so long! I have them throwing themselves at me, offering sex in exchange for the favors I seem to bestow upon you!"
Severus slapped his hand away with a scowl. "Get a grip, Potter."
But he couldn't stop now that he'd gotten started. He flung his arms out wide, growing more hysterical. "I have a whole bloody slew of pregnant woman beginning to show and soon won't be able to do mass brewings like they've been, so now I have to figure out a new way to get the potions we need! I'm running out of money and will soon have to lean on the aristocrats to part with their beloved funds, but without letting them think they have say in how it's spent! More kids are clamoring to be marked, but all they'd be is cannon fodder. Which in some battles might be a useful thing, but the way this war is being fought it'd only slow us down."
Harry leaned even closer. "So don't come in here acting like I'm some student in need of scolding, Severus! I'm doing the best I bloody can to save this situation, which is IMPOSSIBLE, by the way! I'm stuck pretending to be evil while I trick everyone into playing nice so that we can BLOODY SURVIVE this insanity!"
Severus jerked away, putting distance between them. "Maybe so, but there is a reason we have worked so hard to keep anybody from knowing the truth of who you are, Harry. Including Albus. There will be consequences that could lose us this war just as quickly!"
"You know so bloody much, why don't you tell me what I should do," Harry demanded hotly. "Obviously I'm not good enough!"
Severus spun and glared daggers at him. "You think you've got it bad? You know nothing! If they figure it out, you will be torn to pieces. Albus would treat the pretender differently, and thus Voldemort would have no more reason to keep to his Good Potter act. He'd come running for his followers, and they'd jump at the chance of serving a Lord so cleverly disguised. Dark Mark or not, you won't survive the week!"
"I'm doing the best I can!" Harry was practically screaming.
Severus was screaming back. "It's not good enough!"
"You try doing this! It's not that easy!"
"Easy," Severus snarled. He stood with legs braced, head thrown slightly back in outraged defiance. "Try having three lords to please! Try living a double life for decades! Try constantly fighting to preserve the smallest things because you're helpless to affect anything larger! You think my life is easy, Potter, you're delusional!"
"What do you want from me?" Harry stood rigid, his hands fisted at his sides.
"Perhaps the Dark is overwhelming in battle, but there is no reason to avoid it in other instances. To help you negotiate or maneuver among the Death Eaters…" Severus whole demeanor shifted, portraying a false calm, his voice dropping into a coaxing drawl. "I've studied every Dark Arts books in my possession. There is nothing in it about becoming overwhelmed unless you allow it or invite it in. If you remain in control of your emotions and thoughts, you should be safe."
"Except that it makes you want to throw away all that control," Harry scoffed. "The Dark is all about abandon and self-gratification."
Severus inclined his head. "That's why you have to have such rigid control, to keep from being lost when you do give in completely. As, for example, in battle. Yes. Exactly. So don't give in during battle, other times it should be safe."
"But it's not! It doesn't work that way for me!"
"Save me the poor me act," Severus sneered. "You are no different from every other wizard in this regard."
Harry barked a harsh laugh. "Are you kidding me? The same as every other wizard?" He shook his head. "No. I won't give in to the Dark. Not for anything."
Severus' face went ugly. "Glad to know how deep your prejudices go. I should have known you'd be like the others, dismissing my advice whenever it suits. I'm just an insignificant pawn to you, aren't I? In that you are just like every wizard who climbed to the title of Lord."
Harry gaped, but Severus stormed out before he had a chance to recover. With a roar of rage, he threw a book at the chess board standing innocently to the side. Those accusations had hurt! He in no way saw Severus like that. The man was his friend, the only thing keeping him sane most days. And it was infuriating that Severus would hold him at fault for things he had no power over. It wasn't his fault that Severus had been forced to be a spy. It wasn't his fault Dumbledore wasn't listening. Nor was it his fault that Severus had been abused by most of the people in his life. Still, Harry felt miserably unhappy that he couldn't give him what he wanted.
Maybe sleeping would help. Stiff, tense, he made his way to the bedroom. The argument went round and round in his head, alternatively making him want to scream or cry. He blamed it on the exhaustion. By the time he fell on the bed, he was a mess. Panting, sweating, he just wanted to destroy something.
The Dark whispered… It was always whispering… But he could ignore it. It was so distinct. He didn't mistake it for his inner voice anymore. Not since he recognized what was happening. So he just ignored it. It wasn't difficult exactly, but it wore on him. As he lay there twisting the sheets in restless fists, he was almost tempted to give in. Not for Severus but because it would allow him some peace at last. Eyes burning, he flung open the night-table drawer and pulled out a sleeping potion. He drank it down quickly. His heart beat was forcibly made to slow, his damp eyes finally shutting.
The whispers followed him down. He wasn't allowed peace, even while asleep.
xXxXxXx
Muggle Bridge Attacked by Dark Magic!
70 Muggles Dead!
Killed by Death Eaters or Some New Faction?
Are They Saviors or Terrorists?
These were just a few of the headlines. Voldemort put the Daily Prophet down, fighting to hold in his smirk. Maybe Potter wasn't as useless as he seemed. This was more like it.
"See! I told you it was just Death Eaters stirring up trouble," Ron said triumphantly. "It was some plan to get us to turn against Muggles, and now that it didn't work, they're going after their real target."
"The Light and Neutral towns did suffer most," Lavender agreed eagerly. "You're so smart, Ron!"
"The first attack was on a Dark enclave. Salisbury, remember," Hermione argued.
Voldemort eyed her in surprise. "You don't think it's Death Eaters?"
"I think until we have conclusive proof, it would be stupid to say one way or another. There are all those eyewitness reports of warriors in black robes and masks attacking the invaders. Sounds an awful lot like Death Eaters, especially with the types of spells they were using in battle."
"But why would they do that," Ron demanded. He scowled hotly at the girl. "It doesn't make sense."
"Nothing does anymore," she muttered.
Voldemort caught her eye and flashed a smile, hoping to reassure her. He'd have to do something about her soon if her suspicions didn't dissolve.
"Where's Dumbledore? He's gone again!" Dean stabbed at his breakfast eggs in annoyance.
"The Minister probably needed to see him." Hermione shrugged and turned her attention back to the paper.
Voldemort let his eyes drift to the Head Table. He was pleased to see the tense expressions on many of the teachers' faces. He especially liked to see the fierce glower on the Betrayer. Obviously things weren't going well for the spy. He almost did cackle then. He rose quickly and made his way out of the Great Hall before he could blow his cover. He had to lay low. After the Lovegood incident, he couldn't afford any more attention. He shivered pleasantly as he recalled her torment.
"Harry."
He turned to see Draco hurrying after him down the corridor. A truly malicious smile pulled at his lips. "Draco… I was just thinking about you."
xXxXxXx
Harry stalked from the dungeons. Blood splattered his hands and face. The scent of error-musk and human filth clung to his robes. He left both as they were. Furious, sick to his stomach, he swept into the throne room. It was empty except for Lucius kneeling a few feet in front of his throne. The man had pushed him past his limit of tolerance. This was the final straw.
"What do you have to say to yourself, Lucius," he asked oh so gently.
The man kept his head bowed. "My Lord, I had no idea what they would do. I only encouraged them not to give up after being dismissed from the Dark Mark. They can still be of service to you, my Lord."
Harry snarled. His blood-streaked hand snaked out and violently lifted the aristocrat's chin. He stared into composed blue and ripped into Lucius' memories.
O
Lucius paced restlessly across the garden. The sun had long ago set, and the rows of perfectly sculpted bushes and night blooming flowers might as well not be there for all the attention he paid them. His thoughts were circling around one Severus Snape. Lucius wasn't blind. A few times a week Severus arrived at the Dark Lord's manor and disappeared into the study for hours at a time. Sometimes neither would leave the room until dawn. He wondered why they didn't just use the bedroom. It was blatantly obvious what was going on behind that warded door.
The conniving little snake had always been good at making himself indispensable to those in power, but this was taking things too far. Lucius suspected Severus was trying to set himself up as some sort of consort. At first, he'd been amused by the high and mighty Severus Snape whoring himself to the Dark Lord, but it had been months and the Dark Lord didn't seem to be tiring of the Potion Master's presence. Not even the war had disrupted the meetings. In fact, as far as Lucius was aware, and he made it his business to be aware, the Dark Lord slept with no one else. This disturbed him greatly for many reasons.
One, Severus was hardly breathtaking. He'd been mildly attractive as a young man, but the years had taken their toll. So there was something else drawing the Dark Lord's attention, and Lucius had no idea what that could be, except perhaps the thrill of conquering the unconquerable. Surely, after months, that little game would be growing tiring. He hated not knowing.
Two, Lucius would not see that Half-blood urchin in a position of power above Lucius' own. Severus' mother may be from a respected bloodline, but his father was a filthy Muggle. Not even a Muggleborn!
And last, he feared the possibility of Severus distracting their Lord – perhaps on Dumbledore's order. Lucius didn't think it was possible. His Lord was too crafty for that, but there had been too many missed opportunities to advance the Dark to be overlooked anymore.
He'd allowed that the Dark Lord might have some motive for pretending distraction or relative benevolence, but that wouldn't explain everything. For example, the Dark Lord could have demanded a higher price from the villages for his protection. And why was he so much on the defensive? Why weren't they striking back? Why were they sharing strategies with the Light? Those Muggle-lovers deserved what they got for courting such filth in the first place. And then there was this treaty… Lucius really had no words to describe his revulsion of such a binding.
A sharp crack drew his attention. "Master, yous guests have arrived."
"Send them out."
He positioned himself in the center of the path and waited. Six young men came trailing out, eyes darting around to try and pierce the shadows of the night, made deeper by the lush plants. When they caught sight of Lucius, they hesitated before coming forward. Lucius' heart beat with steady power as he surveyed the weaker men.
"Welcome. Please walk with me." He turned his back, displaying his confidence in his position and ability while simultaneously dismissing them as threat.
They had only gone a few yards when the silence was broken. "Why have you called us here?"
"You are disappointed that the Dark Lord overlooked your offered skills," Lucius remarked casually. His cane tapped at the pathway, a rhythm that pleased him. He turned his head, his long hair shimmering in the moonlight as it fell over his shoulder. "There is a way to redeem yourselves in His great eyes."
The six looked back at him, wary as snakes.
Lucius gave them a gentle smile. "Two from our august ranks have passed on and many are incapacitated. I know you have capabilities that would benefit our cause, and it saddens me to see those of such worthy bloodlines squandering their true potential. The trick is demonstrating you are in possession of such skills."
"How do you suggest we do that?"
"I suggest you see this as a test. Do not give up after a single refusal," Lucius chided. "Is not the honor of serving your Lord worth pursuing?"
They stared thoughtfully, saying nothing.
"If I were you I'd consider what would best please our Lord." He turned and continued up the path. "Simply provide for that need, and you will show how indispensable you are."
When he didn't hear them follow after him, he stopped and turned back. The six were grouped close together, sharing significant glances.
"You obviously have many things to think over. Perhaps we should part for the night. Mitsy, show our guests to the door."
O
"It is as I said, my Lord. I had no idea what they planned. I was hoping for something more discrete. Possibly more worthy recruits," Lucius said softly, voice faint from the pain of the migraine.
Harry practically flung him to the floor. "You are displeased with the way I lead my Death Eaters, Lucius? You think you can do better?"
"No, my Lord!" Lucius scrambled to his knees. Sweat dripped down his perfectly chiseled features.
Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. Dark spells were being whispered in his mind. Use them, make him suffer, give in to me, you'll come to need me, don't I help you, just give in, I can give you more than spells... Harry pushed it away. He didn't want help for this. "You think you can do better than Severus to please me?"
Lucius paused. His eyes lifted as he looked up through his lashes. "My Lord?"
"You are so certain you can please me, Lucius. Prove it." Harry stepped back and sat gracefully in his throne, hands gently clasping the end of each arm-rest. "Strip. Slowly."
Pale but intrigued, the man rose up on his knees, back straight. Eyes at half-mast, Lucius began to unbutton his robes. Harry said nothing, made his face expressionless, even as he let the Dark magic swirl lazily around him, making teasing swipes at Lucius' own. Flushed, breathing faster, Lucius grew more and more bold. He slowly exposed his collarbone. He arched his back just enough to let his nipples press against the fabric as the robes fell from his shoulders, revealing a dark blue silk undershirt and slacks.
Lucius rocked his hips just slightly as he pulled the undershirt up, revealing a strip of pale skin at his abdomen. He wasn't skinny and lean like Severus. He had some meat on him, but he wasn't fat. Inch by inch, he pulled his shirt up. Pale blond, curly hair scattered thinly across his chest, circled his nipples. There were no scars. The blond reached for the button on his trousers.
"Stop."
Lucius froze.
Harry stood and walked slowly forward. The closer he got, the more the man strained forward, bathing in the Dark magic Harry let pulse freely from his core. It made the whispers louder, harder to ignore, but he forced himself to focus.
"You look like a stripper, Lucius. A little whore. Is that what you are?"
A brief look of anger flashed over the aristocratic features. "I am what you need me to be, my Lord."
Harry circled him. "So wanton." He spread his magic through the room. A rhythmic pulse that couldn't be heard, only felt. "Dance for me, Lucius."
Flushed, the blond rose to his feet. He hesitated.
Harry drew his fingertips down the man's lips, chin, neck, stopping at the hollow dip. "Please me, Lucius."
The Malfoy Lord leaned his head back, revealing the thin bloody trail Harry had left on his skin. His hips did a seductive little gyration, bringing attention to his erection. "Will you tell me what you did to them, my Lord?."
"I tortured them. Made them scream. Made them bleed," Harry answered softly.
He had no idea what he was doing. The most he'd done was kiss Cho last year. It was wet and quick, the girl bursting into tears afterward as she thought about her dead boyfriend. But the Dark was whispering, magic pulsed through the room, and he was angry at this insidious little servant. He reached out and twisted those dusky nipples, making the man arch with a groan.
"Do you like that," he hissed.
"My Lord," Lucius groaned. His whole body was swaying, glistening with sweat.
"Feels good, doesn't it, Lucius?" He lifted his hand, brought his fingers to the man's lips, thicker and smaller than Severus'. "Taste their suffering."
Lucius hungry lapped at the digits. It sent pleasant shivers down Harry's spine and he pulled his hand away. He was done with this game. He felt strange and uncomfortable.
"Severus pleases me. He deserves my touch. You, Lucius, you enrage me."
The poised Dark magic gathered and crashed down. The blood the man had just tasted had carried the suffering of the six young men he'd influenced. Lucius collapsed with a piercing scream of agony. The man writhed on the floor. He screamed and arched with pure anguish as his body was tortured. Harry watched dully as the Dark purred in his ear. He was too tired to push it away.
xXxXxXx
Severus was not in a pleasant mood. He'd just spent three hours healing his godson who refused to go to Pomfrey. Perhaps she would have knocked some sense into the blasted boy. Draco insisted Harry was sorry. He didn't mean to let things get so out of hand. He was practically frantic in apology. Severus almost slapped the stupid boy silly for such idiocy, although he did understand why Draco clung so persistently to the idea that this was okay. The alternative was to admit he was a victim, and that possibly rivaled the pain of the actual abuse. Needless to say, he was not in a good mood.
"What is it?" He practically snarled the words as soon as he stepped into Albus' office.
Three heads turned toward him and he froze.
"Severus, my boy. I've come to agree that I should sign the treaty," Albus said gently, eyes dark instead of sparkling.
Severus stared dumbfounded. "I see. And you are telling me because?"
Rufus Scrimgeour snorted. "We need a witness."
"Is that what you are," Severus sneered.
"No. I've been elected the new Minister. It will be announced in the Daily Prophet tomorrow."
Severus blinked at that in utter surprise. "What happened to Fudge?"
The lion-like man gave a shark smile. "Seems the public is in an uproar about all these attacks. The Muggle Prime Minister insists the Muggle invaders are not being sanctioned and has no idea where they are coming from. He is vastly distressed that his innocent civilians are being attacked in retaliation and needs some proof of our ability to stop this. Therefore, it was decided a war-time leader was needed."
"I see," Severus said stiffly. "And Mr. Weasley?"
"Percy is my witness," Scrimgeour answered calmly. "Now can we continue, gentlemen? We have no time to waste."
"Are we signing it now?" Severus was almost dizzy with the shock. He never thought Albus would commit to this. He scanned his old mentor's face. Had he figured something out? It was maddeningly impossible to tell.
"We are signing the acceptance to the treaty. Then both sides will formally draw up their demands and promises. A neutral date will be selected where all of us will meet to sign the Treaty of Unifying Powers," Albus explained.
Severus watched as Scrimgeour and Albus put down their names on the agreements and recommended a date to finalize the treaty. It was a solemn affair. Severus and Percy, looking pale but determined, both signed their names as witnesses. As soon as it was done, the Ministry officials left and Severus turned to Albus.
"You believe it is Muggles?"
"I believe so, and also that there is more going on. As Rufus stated, the official Muggle governments have no idea who the attackers could be. Yet they are obviously well equipped. I fear something very sinister is at work, and for once it is not of the Dark Lord's making." Albus sat behind his desk. He didn't look away, but Severus couldn't help feeling he was hiding something.
"Where have you been," he asked slowly.
"Helping tend the refugees as per the Ministry's request."
Severus stared. Albus stared back.
"Thank you for your assistance," the Headmaster spoke first. "I hope it does not cause problems with the Dark Lord, you witnessing for the Light."
Severus stared harder. "He will be pleased that I've risen so high in your esteem. He might now expect more accurate and detailed reports on your movements."
"With this treaty, he will see my movements for himself." Albus waved that away. "I am tired, my boy. Go. Tend to your Slytherins. I know they are restless. The other Houses have been unkind to them lately."
Severus snorted. "You think? They're seen as miniature Death Eaters."
"They have a good guardian. I'm sure they will be fine."
Severus stood stiffly, annoyed. He was being shut out while simultaneously his Slytherins were being dismissed. Had any other House been treated the same way as the Slytherins, the Headmaster would have stepped in and stopped it. "I'm pleased to have assisted you," he said dryly. He didn't wait for a response before storming away. Again he was shunt aside once he was no longer useful. Bitter and furious, he returned to the dungeons to brood.
xXxXxXx
The Great Hall was absolutely still, a huge vacuum of silence. Ron was certain this was just a bunch of lies. It's not like the Prophet was reliable, after all. But one fact kept jumping out at him. Albus Dumbledore had signed it in agreement. A treaty. With the Dark. He stared across at Harry and Hermione. Both were staring intensely at the Head Table. Ron forced his eyes to follow theirs.
Dumbledore stood. He looked stronger than he had in weeks. "My dear students. These are dark and confusing times. We need to look to each other, to remind us of the path under our feet. It is easy to be led astray by certainties that are by no means certain." His eyes swept the Hall. "It is to my shame that I believed for too long what I wanted to see. Indeed, we all need to be sure that we see things for how they are. I have confirmed the attacks were committed by Muggles with a technology to weaken magic. Closely questioning the Muggle Prime Minister has revealed that these terrorists are not sanctioned by any government. They are a powerful renegade group being hunted by both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds."
"What about the Death Eaters?"
The cry could have come from all of them, but it was only one voice that spoke. Ron was startled to realize it had been his own. Dumbledore stared at him, and he wanted to melt into his seat.
"The Death Eaters still support their own beliefs, but first and foremost they will protect the magical world from annihilation. They have agreed that while this threat is upon us, they will cease their war and help defend our world."
The Great Hall exploded into sound.
Ron stared across the table once more. Harry was looking back at him. There was no expression in his face or eyes. Hermione, on the other hand, looked thoughtful and determined. Both of them were silent as the others talked loudly in rising confusion, disbelief, and fear. The world had just changed drastically. Again. Ron felt a bit of fear himself. How were they to navigate an increasingly confusing world?
Harry stood. Without a word. Without betraying a single thought or feeling. He walked away. Ron felt no urge to follow this time. Neither must have Hermione. She stayed at the table.
"What are we going to do?"
She looked over at him and shook her head. "I don't know. But I have a bad feeling about this."
Ron could only nod. "I do, too."
xXxXxXx
Harry leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. The Daily Prophet lay open on the desk. He wished he had someone to talk to. Ron. Hermione. Severus. God, he missed Severus. It'd been almost a week since their fight. He wanted to call him back, but what would he say? Sorry, I still can't do what you want? That wouldn't go over well.
The Death Eaters were becoming recalcitrant. They wanted to follow the renegade's footsteps, attack the Muggles. They wanted recognition, fueled by the paper acknowledging them as innocent. It even subtly called them heroes. They wanted more. They wanted it now. And they were not pleased that Harry had closed his will and magic around them and demanded obedience and patience. He'd had to torture the lot of them before he was certain they wouldn't run off and do something against his will.
He was getting mighty sick of screams. Of blood. He never wanted to see blood outside the skin again!
Now he had to draft the formal demands and vows of his side of the treaty. The wording had to be so careful or he'd pledge himself to something he didn't mean. Severus wouldn't help him. He thought the treaty was a bad idea. And he couldn't ask any other Death Eater. They'd get suspicious that he'd need help with such a thing. He was stuck. Frustrated, tired, he paced the room. The blank, expensive scroll that waited for his words mocked him from the desk.
I need help, Severus. And I'm sick of needing it! Why can't I ever follow through? I start shite and can't ever get through it on my own! Severus is right. Damn it! I'm just a kid! Even if I don't feel like it, or look like it! I don't know what I'm doing! Severus would know what to do. But I started this. I have step up. I can't back out now! Get it together, Harry!
His frenetic thoughts whirled as he paced. He scowled, trying not to think of his absent friend and focus on the treaty. It was impossible. Harry felt sick at the thought that their short friendship was gone, and they'd go back to hating each other. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, but circumstances prevented him from being able to. Besides, the Dursleys taught him how useless it was to beg anyone for anything they didn't want to give.
With the practice of many years, Harry gritted his teeth and forced all his personal concerns to the back of his mind. They would just get in the way of him getting work done. Almost obsessively he sat and pulled tomes closer to get examples of wording and how treaties had been used against the signer due to careless phrases. He needed this to be perfect. Then Severus would see he wasn't stupid or foolish. He'd see this was actually a good idea.
xXxXxXx
The Christmas season was not the usual joyous affair it normally was. Ever since last week's paper announcing the treaty and confirmation of Muggle involvement, the school had been a dark and depressive place. Thankfully most of the castle was now empty due to the winter holiday. If Voldemort had a say, he wouldn't be trapped in the castle either. He'd be at the Ministry with Dumbledore, as his witness. It still made him want to explode to learn the bastard had made Severus his witness. The trust between them must run very deep indeed.
Voldemort sat in Hogwarts' dusty library with an irritable scowl on his face. His skin literally itched to burn something, to destroy it. But instead he was trapped, neutered. Too furious to bother with appearances at the moment, he aimed his poisonous glare out the window and fought to maintain a tentative calm.
"There you are." Draco stepped up behind him and rubbed at his tight shoulders. It felt good enough that Voldemort let him. "You've been shut up all day. Come out with me."
"Yes because I love tromping around in cold, wet snow," he sneered viciously.
"You can't do anything about the treaty right now. You'll just worry yourself sick." The teenager bent and licked coyly at the shell of his ear. "A distraction would be good for a while."
Draco's attempt at seduction was laughable. "If you're craving a dick up your arse so badly, go whore yourself to someone who's interested. I'm busy."
The blond snatched his hands away as if burned. "Fuck you, Potter."
Voldemort tilted his head back and met the furious silver eyes. He smiled coldly. "Now you're losing your memory. You're the slut in this relationship, not me."
He smirked as Draco stormed away. The boy had been right, distracting himself had been pleasant. It was also pleasant to picture seducing the boy into a better temper with false apologies and gentle words of affection, then ravaging his willing body. But such thoughts only occupied him for a short time, and he went back to contemplating the man he loathed above all others.
Albus Dumbledore… This Alliance was a situation that he'd always dreamed of, forcing the Ministry and the high and mighty Light Lord to recognize his power. To admit they needed him. And he wasn't even going to be involved! Dumbledore had confined him to Hogwarts! For his safety, Voldemort remembered with fury. The body-switching had never seemed so horrible as it did now. One thing was certain. He would kill Dumbledore one day.
O
Hermione bit her lip as she watched Draco storm away from Harry. She felt wretched. She loved Harry. And her heart bled for the things he'd suffered in his short years. He'd been through events that would break grown adults, let alone a teenage boy. First the abuse he'd suffered growing up, then almost being killed every year, then losing his godfather last year and learning of the prophecy. Knowing you were the only one who could save or damn everyone was a heavy burden. The discovery of his sexual preferences had to add to that pressure. But as much as she ached with sympathy, she was utterly horrified by her suspicions.
Ever since Harry had confessed to his relationship with Draco, she'd been watching the blond Slytherin more closely. She didn't like what she saw. Draco was growing more unpredictable and manic, which was a complete deviation from his usually cool, smug persona. He'd even begun to look unwell. For a boy as vain as she suspected Draco of being, this said rather a lot.
At first she explained it away by Draco suffering stress from his changed alliances and traumatic experiences over summer. But if he'd truly found peace in his alliance with Harry, and had fallen in love on top of that, he should show improvement, not deteriorate as the weeks wore on. No, it wasn't due to stress that had Draco unraveling. It was because of Harry. For the longest time, she looked for some other explanation – anything else! – but it always came back to this.
Agonized, torn between loyalty to her best friend and her fear that there was something wrong with the way he treated Draco, she dreaded saying anything, of making her suspicions true. Surely she was wrong! This was Harry! But she couldn't ignore it any longer. Not after watching Draco run away, clearly hurt and in tears, and seeing Harry sit there smiling, totally unconcerned.
Feeling like she was walking toward her death, she had to psych herself up before she approached the table. "Harry… Is everything all right between you and Draco?" Her friend looked up at her, and for one split second, it was as if a stranger were looking at her through his unique green eyes.
"We've just not been getting along as much lately," he answered, ducking his head. Perhaps because he was embarrassed or ashamed, but she was more concerned with the fact that it hid his expression. She wanted to see his face, to reassure herself that her fears were absurd.
"I think you really hurt his feelings," she suggested carefully.
"He's a Slytherin," Harry countered, too dismissively.
Hermione frowned. "This isn't like you, Harry."
Harry's face lifted and his expression was warm, anxious, and familiar. "You're right, Hermione. I shouldn't push him away. Sometimes I'm afraid to really let him get close to me. What would happen if I lost him, too?"
Relief washed through her as sympathy overcame her concern. "Harry… If you really like him, it's worth it. You don't want to be alone. You'll never be happy that way."
"He's a good friend. He always understands and forgives me." His expression became light and playful. "But it's not like I'm going to marry him, Hermione. I'm only sixteen you know." He stood and gathered his homework. "I'm going to go catch up with him. Thanks, Hermione." And with a brief grin, he walked away.
Hermione felt the relief slowly fade. Harry was absolutely right. It was a completely normal to have casual relationships, especially since he was a sixteen year old boy, but… She'd never expected Harry to feel like that. Denied affection and love for so long, Harry was very fierce in his attachments. She expected that to be amplified when he finally fell in love. And something about the conversation felt off, like his reactions were slightly out of place.
Deeply distressed, she went to find Ron. She'd stayed quiet as long as she could. She needed his opinion. Harry was really starting to scare her. In fact, she was afraid he wasn't just Harry anymore. She'd been doing research on possession. It was undeniable that the scar was a link to the Dark Lord. Voldemort had sent Harry visions last year, had actually possessed him completely at the Ministry. Granted that was helped in part due to their close proximity and possession wasn't as easy as all that, but something was wrong with Harry. She was certain now.
She stepped out of the library and her thoughts went black as she lost consciousness.
xXxXxXx
Harry's face remained impassive as he stepped up to the large round table. Dumbledore stood across from him, his shrewd eyes blank and his expression empty. It was slightly unnerving, but he was able to keep his cool by reminding himself that Dumbledore didn't see him. He saw Voldemort.
"Are we ready to begin," Percy asked a bit faintly. He knew he was the weakest link at the table.
Scrimgeour and Severus both shot him disgusted looks.
Harry thought it was pretty sad that he was jealous of the pompous redheaded. He'd take any kind of acknowledgement from the man who had yet to look at him once. To distract himself, he focused on the new Minister. That had caught him totally by surprise, and his Death Eaters weren't happy to have their manipulative Minister taken out of office and an independent leader put in his place.
The man had tawny hair that rose around his head like a lion mane, golden eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and a fierce expression. He'd worked under Amelia Bones in MLE for years and at her death had taken her position as Head of the Aurors. The world had wanted a war-time leader, and they had gotten one.
Scrimegeour set the drawn up treaty in the middle of the table. "The agreed upon demands have all been recorded. I have already signed."
Dumbledore made no move to take the papers, so Harry smoothly took them up. He read it thoroughly. It stated all past deeds committed by the Order of the Phoenix or the Death Eater forces would be forgotten, retribution withheld. Any future infractions against the laws set down by the Ministry would break the treaty, unless action was made that appeased the offended. It also stated that any and all laws constraining the traditions and ancient ways set down by Merlin would be rescinded.
Harry signed Voldemort's name with a flourish, pressing sweet Dark magic into the parchment as his seal that he'd hold himself and the Death Eaters to the demands and promises therein. He returned the papers to the table and waited.
"What game are you playing, Tom?" Dumbledore asked through narrowed eyes.
"I no longer play games, Albus," Harry answered coldly. "It's beneath me, and we cannot afford it."
Dumbledore looked sad for a moment, confusing Harry, but then a withered old hand took the document. The ancient name was drawn in ink and glorious Light magic filled the room for a split second as his seal was applied. Harry almost reacted, a disturbingly powerful need making his chest ache. God, that magic was so familiar and comforting and right.
"Thank you, Lords," Scrimegeour said neutrally. "Now for the witnesses."
Percy signed without reading. Harry assumed he'd read it in full before the meeting. Crispin Lestrange took up the document next and began to read. If Fudge or the new Minister were shocked that a Pureblooded aristocrat of such standing was functioning as the Dark Lord's witness, they didn't show it. Maybe it wasn't so surprising. Both Crispin's sons had gone to Azkaban with Dark Marks on their arm, after all. The old man pressed his name and magic to the paper. Then came Severus' turn. Harry supposed he should be angry to see his servant on the other side of the table. On the other hand, he should control his expression in front of outsiders. He wasn't sure.
Dark eyes flashed up to meet his own. There was surprise and approval there. The treaty was well done. Harry felt almost like grinning. The thirteen hours he'd worked nonstop on the blasted thing had been well worth it just for that. Harry knew by that one look their fight was over. Severus signed his name. The treaty was complete. They and their people – Death Eaters, Phoenix members, and Ministry employees – were bound by the guidelines laid out. Any deviance would result in severe magical repercussions as agreed.
xXxXxXx
Knowing Albus wouldn't look for him for several hours at the least, Severus left the castle and headed for the edge of the Apparation wards. Less than fifteen minutes later, he arrived at Riddle Manor. His mark led him to the throne room. All the Death Eaters were gathered silently, listening as the Dark Lord revealed the agreed upon strategy.
"Those I summon to help fight alongside the Aurors and the Light will represent the Dark with honor. If the treaty is broken because of one of you, I will not be pleased," he said lowly, almost hissing. "And if anyone thinks to make a raid without my permission…"
An invisible wall of magic fell, revealing the six men who attacked the bridge and Lucius Malfoy. All hung from hooks, embedded through their wrists. Their naked bodies clearly displayed the abuse they'd suffered. Thankfully, they were unconscious. Otherwise Severus was sure they'd be screaming.
Spines straightened as the Death Eaters answered, "Yes, my Lord."
Severus slipped out of the room deep in thought and headed for the study to wait for his Lord. Harry had done wonders, but Severus could feel a certain restlessness among the group of men. Harry still had control, but if things didn't ease soon, it would only be temporary. Most of the Death Eaters were out of the honeymoon phase now and were not inclined to let things slide. This treaty pushed them. None of them liked it, as Severus had known they wouldn't. All the same, he deeply regretted the distance he'd allowed to come between him and Harry. Between the problems he faced at school, dealing with Albus, and watching the pretender, he'd been too tired to come talk sense into Harry. It had been the wrong choice, he saw now, and he hoped the damage to their still fragile friendship wasn't permanent.
"I didn't expect you tonight."
Severus started. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard Harry come in. He watched through a curtain of oily hair as the Dark Lord took his seat behind the desk. He looked calm and relaxed, even happy to see him if the bright eyes were anything to go by. Severus sighed in relief.
"Albus needed to rest."
"Wore him out, did I?" The wry twist of thin lips had Severus mirroring him without realizing it.
"You are quite the mystery."
"Not to you," Harry countered softly. "I've missed you."
Severus' heartbeat quickened. He regarded the man across from him, trying to determine if he were imagining the subtle undertones. Half-lidded eyes watched him in return. Harry was leaning back in his chair, hands folded comfortably across his stomach. Feeling his blood pressure rise, Severus uncharacteristically said the first thing that came to mind.
"Are you still wearing the robe you borrowed from me this summer?"
Instantly the intimate atmosphere evaporated. Harry tried for a light tone anyway. "With cleaning charms, it's not like it's dirty."
"Why not get new robes," Severus pressed, intrigued. The red eyes dropped. He waited to see if he'd be answered.
"I can't stand seeing myself naked," the Dark Lord finally admitted.
"Harry…" Severus hadn't meant to stumble into something quite so personal. He knew from experience how painful self-loathing could become.
"I think I could use some rest as well." Harry stood and nodded farewell. "Goodnight, Severus."
"Goodnight," he answered, but he was already alone.
Chapter end