Warning: This Story contains SLASH, LV/HP if this offends please do not read.

Other Pairings: SS/HG

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling

'Bold' = Mind Link Speaking

Chapter Nineteen

A Certain Closure

Harry and Hermione had stood before their Lord on Monday morning flatly refusing any assistance from the Ministry or his Loyal.

Voldemort studied the silent Prophet and his stubborn faced favoured witch and saw they needed to be the ones to finish it –as his Creature had known that he had to be the one to 'collect' Triscoti. Hermione was intent on expelling her demons from the last raid she had been part of. The thirteen witches still haunted her and she was hoping this would end it. His Creature was keeping his intentions carefully hidden. But tension was screaming from him as he stood waiting.

"You will at least take Severus."

Severus snorted. "They have no choice. I am going with them."

"Very well, let's get started then."

In violent shocking raids each Master was visited by the trio. Under the Prophets full and terrifying presence the Master's were ordered to send for all those associated with him and once they had apparated before him, they were killed, mostly by Hermione whose bitter hatred of 'minions' who could stand by and watch the atrocities Servants committed, had eaten away at her insides from the beginning.

Harry and Severus let her have her head as she screamed the poisonous bile out of her system, killing wizards and witches alike, in part with the most painful and violent spells she could draw upon from her impressive repertoire, and in part with her sword. In a whirlwind of death she cut through them, deaf to the crying, the begging, the terror of her victims. When it was over Severus would take her in his arms, soothing her trembling body and wiping away her tears as she choked the same words into his neck each time. "It was not enough, it will never be enough."

The number of Servants belonging to these 'new' Master's was trebled, some owning more than twenty. Once the minions were taken care of, Harry forced each Master to summon his filth and as they materialised and fell to their knees before him, he questioned them and then crucified them. When it was over they Fiendfyred the remains. The only survivors, the Master's, were port-keyed to the Ministry Dungeons where, along with a guard of Auras, Fudge, Kingsley and Mad-Eye waited to incarcerate them.

The ninth and final Master was taken in the early hours of Tuesday morning. By this time Hermione was spent. Harry gave Severus a port-key and forced him to take her home. The last of the minions were not for killing anyway. They, along with the Servants would be executed at the Summit for Magic.

The last Master had eight minions and fourteen Servants. Harry killed three of the Servants, the number eleven whispering in his mind as he studied them. He tore through skin, crushed bones and expelled organs, he let the hatred and rage, that he had been holding back in deference to Hermione and Severus, take him. Crucifixion would have been a kindness in comparison. Knowing that this, Mother willing, would be his last kill Harry revelled in the pain the agony he was causing, the terror of the nine wizards watching him. He would never have to bear the Servants begging, their touching, their awful pleading faces again. Never have to witness the gruesome end result of their envy and loathing for wizardkind. And even as he worked, he could feel the eleven remaining Servants ecstasy in his presence, feel their cloying love, feel them bathing in his pure magic.

When he had finished he stood breathing as if he had ran a marathon taking in the Master and his minions as they knelt on the ground hiding their faces in their hands. The blood of the kill had splashed across them in a macabre form of art. Harry suddenly felt a terrible urgency to be away from this place. Quickly, he bound the remaining eleven Servants with a spell and stepped the nine wizards to the Ministry Dungeons.

Auras waiting for him froze for a moment looking at Harry fearfully, then snapped into action at Fudge's sharp command, quickly relieving him of his prisoners.

Harry pushed one of them down onto his knees. "This one is the Master."

The Auras separated him from the others and ushered the whole lot along a stone corridor into the Cell area.

"I'm bringing eleven Servants back." Harry warned Fudge, Kingsley and Mad-Eye, when they were alone. "You won't want to be here for that."

"Harry, are you all right?" Fudge asked shakily.

He nodded, rubbing his face tiredly. He felt a slick stickiness on his cheeks and lowered his hands to see that they were covered in blood. He looked further down, at himself, and saw that he was covered in blood. He ignored it, enjoying the horrified looks he was getting from Kingsley and Mad-eye. He wondered when he had become more of a monster than the monsters, but couldn't bring himself to care. It was over.

"Go." He snapped at the former Order members, suddenly needing them to be gone from his sight. "There is nothing for you to do now. I will seal the Servants in an impenetrable cell. Go – you too, Cornelius."

"No lad." Moody said gravely. "I know... I know, that you will never forgive us." Arthur, Tonks, Molly, Charlie. Ron, Ginevra, other ex members of the Order of the Phoenix were stepping out of the shadows to stand behind Mad-Eye and Kingsley. "And I know that we deserve nothing from you. But... Please, we have to see. We all need to see, to know... to understand, what we were part of, why they do it... what it did to... you." Mad-Eye took a step closer to him. "Look at you lad, just look at you..."

Harry took a quick step back. "My Lord?" He said sharply, feeling suffocated by the wizards and witches he hated staring at him with pity in their eyes. "You are here?" If he wasn't, Harry wasn't sure what he he would do... he felt like a coiled spring about to snap, he felt...

The Lord of all Magic stepped out of the shadows behind Harry and laid a hand on his shoulder. Only he saw and felt the tension drain out of him at his touch. For a second Harry leaned back into the warm body behind him closing his eyes.

Voldemort ran a hand down his hair. He grimaced as blood smeared his fingers. 'You know, my creature, blood in your hair offends me greatly, you could at least take measures to protect it before you bathe in your kill.'

'Don't go... don't leave me with them.'

'As if I would.'

Harry stepped and was gone.

"Is he all right, Lord Voldemort?" Cornelius Fudge asked worriedly.

Voldemort gave a tight smile. "Yes." He put the point of his wand to his forearm and the Inner Circle apparated around him. "You may leave he said to the Auras." Gratefully they left as quickly as possible. In silence the two groups of former enemies faced each other.

Moments later Harry reappeared in-between them surrounded by a tight group of silent figures fully cloaked and hooded in black liquid silk robes. They immediately fell to the ground surrounding Harry, undulating around the Prophet's feet like a circular flowing toxic wave. The temperature in the dungeon dropped by several degrees, breaths crystallised in the air. Harry stood at the centre of the writhing mass, his stance rigid, his face hard and cold.

"Behold the means to Dumbledore's Greater Good and after sixteen years, apart from one," he glanced at Hermione, "the first in this world to truly Love your Boy-who-lived." He spat bitterly. He looked down as white hands began to stretch out of the black sea to grasp at his legs and feet.

"'Love is my weapon'. Dumbledore told me that. To mock me, because he had made sure my life was barren of it. But little did he know that he was speaking a truth... their love for me, that is so powerful they would raze the world to the ground if I asked it of them, is my weapon, against them. To know, to feel the cloying suffocating love they bear for me even as I rip them apart, nearly drove me mad because as passionate and all consuming as their love for me is, my hatred for them is the equal balance of it ..." He shook his head.

He lifted his silencing spell and low moans and sighs could be heard as the hands continued to stroke the frozen Prophet reverently. Harry smiled a terrible smile. "The first in this world to caress and touch me with Love. The hands that ripped the souls from thousands stroke me with reverence. Touch me, worship me. For a long time all I saw was the blood of their victims on my hands because of it. That the only love I could inspire came from these...these... made me as filthy as they are." He looked at Voldemort, seeing the flash of understanding in his eyes. He smiled sadly and turned back to the Order.

"In his arrogance your former Leader ignored how the souls of the Servants came to be. They persecuted and crucified the first Lord of all Magic who was hailed by the muggles as the son of God. He was the chosen Son of The Holy Mother. The only God. Her grief was such that She swept the earth and cursed millions to eternal damnation for the crime. A crime that had monumental consequences and changed this earth irrevocably. A crime the muggles still pay for to this day. She split the world, saved her chosen and turned her back on the cursed, letting them fall to lies and deceit..."

The keening moans rose in volume, the hands become desperate, moving higher up Harry's body as he stood firm. "Dimitte, Dimitte!" The pleading insidious whisper came from all of them at once, the sound chilling in its intensity as it echoed around the stone dungeon. Dimitte, Dimitte, Dimitte...

The chant grew louder and Ginevra Weasley suddenly screamed. Her hands covered her ears as she wailed. "Shut them up, Harry, shut them up!"

"YOU SHUT UP!" Harry roared. "Do you even know what they are asking for! Of course you don't! They are begging for forgiveness! For a crime they committed thousands of years ago! Why are you here, you who joined the Order for one reason only, because you wanted me!" He spat. He seemed to grow in stature, his voice deepening, his magic pouring out of him in black waves. "Do you still want me Ginevra Weasley! Was it worth joining a Mass Murderer just to get your hands on me, BY ANY MEANS!"

The Servants suddenly fell silent and in a joint terrifyingly violent movement, an arm from one each lifted from Harry and pointed at Ginevra.

"They don't like the thought of you touching me." Harry sneered to the girl having to be held up by her mother and father as her legs gave way. "Neither do I."

The Servants hissed.

Harry lifted a hand and as a whole they calmed. Their hands returned to his legs stroking. "Dimitte," they began again. He stared down at them, then reached out a steady hand. Slowly he lowered it and let it rest on one hooded head. As one they sighed. A sudden intense calmness washed over Harry as for the first time he touched one of the pitiful creatures with something other than rage and hate. "No forgiveness, no mercy." He said gently. "Magic is not kind."

Harry looked at the Order who stood as if Petrified. "For millennia they have suffered, for millennia they have wanted nothing but forgiveness. And then Dumbledore freed them, and set them upon our world. He bound them to their Master's and ordered them to take the souls of the dark. And even as they devoured and tortured and killed magic, they were searching for the essence of it – the link, the pathway back to the Mother herself. Me." Harry finished flatly. "It's why I can see them, It's why they love me. It's why they can't resist me.

"In two years they have taken more than eight thousand souls of witches, wizards, children, and infants. More than half of that number were Female. Eight thousand souls that will never rest, that will be lost in the wilderness to wander alone for all time because the Servants have killed their connection to the Mother. And their crime? They had a dark alignment. You, the Order, had a lot to say about the dark, about 'going dark', he looked at Ron, about being a 'dark traitor', he looked at Molly, about the 'dark Lord', MY Lord. While you sat sipping tea and eating lemon drops with Dumbledore, laughing and talking about the greater good, they," he gestured to the Servants, "were out there making it happen for you."

The witches stared crying. Molly especially.

Harry raised his hands and the cold white hands touching him lifted as one and pulled back their hoods. Elongated faces with white bulging eyes and wide mouths gazed up at him enraptured. "They are an affront to the Mother, a filthy pestilence that could have ended our world." He looked up at the Order. "And they adore me. If I were not here, if you were alone with them, they would have sucked your magic into themselves, for a few seconds tasting what they crave for, or if needed they would merely snap your magical core's. There would have been nothing you could do.

"If they decided not to hang you or burn you or strangle you out of pure hatred, you would die within days from grief, in agony for the loss of your connection to the Mother, to Magic, to the Whole. The connection that they loath and despise in you, and yearn for for themselves. Their hatred for you because you have what they have not is all consuming. For millennia they have suffered that grief, that agony, and for millennia they will continue to do so. There will be no end for them."

Harry focused on Moody, his eyes expressionless, and shook his head. "Two men bear the direct responsibility. Dumbledore, and the Priest, Triscoti, who allowed this to ensure our true religion was never returned to us in case it exposed their lies. Without his free will, without the Malleus Maleficarum and Papal bull, it would have been impossible. The blame does not lay at your door. Any of you. Your crime is that you didn't listen, you didn't take the time to learn about your own world and its History, and you blindly followed a man whose goals you had no understanding of.

"Go now. I have work to do." He looked down at the Servants and didn't look up again until he knew they had all gone.

Harry raised his hand and the Servants rose in the air. The sudden loss of contact with the Prophet made them wail and cry out, their hands groped towards him as he left the circle of their bodies. Harry walked to his Lord and stood quietly beside him. The Inner circle bowed their heads to him and dissaparated. Only Hermione and Severus stayed.

Hermione held her hand out to Harry and smiled. "Can you feel it Harry, inside us... the burden of it... it's gone."

Harry smiled, his whole face lighting up. "Yes." He gave Hermione a hug and she and Severus dissaparated.

"Will you help me?" He asked Voldemort the lightness of spirit he was feeling was making him slightly dizzy. Looking at his Lord he could see that he too seemed to have shed dark shadows from his eyes that shone like polished rubies as he stared at Harry intently.

Together they raised their wands and walked the floating Servants into the holding cells. And there was Mad-Eye and Kingsley waiting for them. Harry laughed shaking his head, giving them the first wry little smile he had bestowed on them in years. Fudge walked over as Mad-eye opened a cell door and the Servants floated in. Harry and Voldemort began complicated wand movements and after some moments the inner perimeter of the cell began to darken as a solid black metal like substance encased the prisoners. When it was done, Voldemort put an arm around Harry's shoulders.

Someone cleared their throat from behind them.

They turned to find Ronald Weasley shuffling from foot to foot with a parchment in his hand.

"Em... I have this letter here... well, decree, and it says we are to longer allowed to call you 'My Lord'." He glanced nervously at the pair. "We are all to c-call you L-Lord V-V-Voldemort."

"Yes Weasley, that is correct." Voldemort said with narrowed eyes. "Do you have a problem with that rather simple instruction?"

"No... well, it's just that I said some things – you know, at the meeting, but... I didn't know you were you... then." He grimaced, turning a bright red.

Voldemort raised a brow. "Ah yes. I had forgotten. How good of you to remind me. Though some may see it as the height of stupidity. I believe in comparison to Dumbledore I am a... pussy-cat. Hmm, you also inferred that I am an ugly incompetent searching blindly for my enemy."

Harry shook with laughter.

But Ron turned stark white. "Oh but I would never... I didn't mean... I was under the impression that..." Ron looked as if he was drowning. "Lord Voldemort, you are very good looking..."

"Crucio!"

To Ron's credit he didn't scream.

Voldemort released him and put his arm around Harry again. As he strode past the wincing boy dragging himself to his feet, he drawled; "By the way Wesley, you and your brother will be vastly rewarded for attempting to protect my Consort during the battle at Berwick. And well done on the dragon theory."

Harry stepped and they were gone, leaving a suddenly bemused Ronald Weasley scratching his head.

On Friday, Harry returned to the Ministry Dungeon.

"Can I kill one of them, Harry?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Absolutely Not! You know tomorrow is the Summit for..."

An emerald light exploded towards one of eight panicked wizards. Instead of killing him outright, it curled around him undulating. Slowly the wizard's skin began to glow with an almost golden light until it was translucent. Then, incredibly, fire could be seen dancing under the skin of his face and hands. The other wizards ran to the edges of the cell trying to escape the screaming man as he flailed around before falling to his knees. His agony was cut short as he suddenly exploded into ash.

"Hermione! I said n... What was that spell?"

"FAR too much power my gorgeous little know-it-all. What have I told you about the art of suffering." Severus stepped out of the shadows making Harry and Hermione jump. "Hello Harry," he managed before Hermione flew into his arms kissing him with a passion that made Harry smile.

Harry turned back to the cell and stared curiously at the pile of ash on the stone floor then at the remaining seven wizards who were wailing and moaning.

"Oh shut up." He said, waving a hand and silencing them. "Is this one of your spells, Severus? It's amazing."

"It is, Harry. It took some three years to develop."

"Do you want a go, Harry." Hermione said jumping up and down on the balls of her feet in excitement. "You can do it on that one." She pointed at one of the seven. "He looks shifty and I hate him. Or that one." She pointed at another wizard. "I hate him too."

"Hermione – you 'hate' all of them." Harry pointed out.

"I do, Harry, it was my job." She said soto voice. She stared narrowed eyed as one of the wizard's tried to climb the cell wall. She raised her wand. "I don't like odd numbers. Let's make it six. Watch Harry, this is how..."

"I will teach both of you. Granger, Potter, listen and learn. Wand at the ready, Potter!" Severus ordered, slipping into Professor mode.

Harry drew his wand.

"This spell is all about subtlety. The beauty of it is the suffering it inflicts on your prey before the spontaneous combustion. Too much power," he raised a brow at Hermione, "will result in your victim disintegrating into ash almost immediately therefore rendering it useless. You might just as well lob a fireball at him."

The wizards in the cell watched silently as the Professor gave an impromptu lesson to his two studious pupils who were following his every wand movement faithfully.

Hermione put her hand up.

"Yes, Granger."

"Professor Snape, what is the..."

Prince, Granger, Prince! How many times do I have to remind you. Will you forget your own name when we bond next month?"

"Sorry Professor Prince, I forgot. Professor Prince, what is the maximum amount of suffering possible before combustion?"

"Four minutes. If you manage to pass the Practical you can expect a reward."

"Will it involve your desk and chains, Sir?"

"Yes. So make sure you Exceed Expectations, Granger."

"What about me!" Harry said. "What do I get if I pass?" Noting Severus' heavy frown at him he put his hand up, then as the silence stretched. "Sir." He added moodily.

"A bottle of 1960 Dom. Romanee-Conti." At Harry's blank look Severus... Professor Prince, sighed. "Trust me, Mr. Potter, you will love it. Your palate for fine red wines grows daily. This is the best Burgundy you will ever taste. One bottle at auction costs three thousand five hundred muggle pounds."

"Sever... Professor Prince... have you got a cellar?"

"I have Har... Potter. Prince Manor's cellar is renowned and far better stocked than even Lord Voldemort's." Severus' black eyes glinted.

"And you would... give me a whole Bottle – to myself?"

"I have a case of them." Severus said smugly.

Harry eyes grew to saucer like proportions and shone like emeralds as he returned to the task ahead. "That's it, Har... Potter, soft arm movements." Professor Prince praised, walking around the pair.

"Now, watch," He said some minutes later, pointing his wand at the scuttling wizards. "I will only show you this once." He bared the torso of a wizard. "You should to do this to appreciate the full visual effect." Exactly four minutes later he turned back to his enthralled pupils. "Granger you will go next. Then Potter."

Seventeen minutes later Voldemort, having finished his inspection of the set up for the Summit, entered the dungeon with Fudge.

"There you all are!" Fudge greeted. "We wondered if you were down here with the pris..." He stopped short.

"Harry," Voldemort drawled, taking note of his Creature's triumphant face. "Would you care to explain why all the minions are piles of ash?"

"It took me five go's to get up to four minutes." Harry crowed, sheathing his wand. "I really wanted that bottle of wine."

Harry had never been to a 'Grown Up' party before. He stared at himself in the mirror later that night and shrugged. He looked...

"Oh wow, you look... you look... Wow, Harry!" Hermione said breezing into his bedroom and coming to a standstill. "Lord Voldemort sent me to get you. Are you hiding?"

"Yes. For some reason I'm nervous." Harry pulled at his robe that was clinging to every line of his body. "This is like a second skin. The last time I looked like this I got into big trouble."

"You aren't going to the Fort – you are in your own home, about to go downstairs to your own reception room. Lord Voldemort will want you to look... good." Hermione finished somewhat uncertainly.

"Will he?" Harry said dryly raising a brow. The soft deepest ruby red, raw silk robe, worn against the bare skin of his torso, felt decadent. Long slim tautly muscled legs set off by black leggings and knee high tight fitting black suede boots could be seen as he moved. He had left his hair loose and it spilled over his shoulders and down his back to his waist like a black veil of spun silk. His eyes were languid and smoky in his paler than usual face with an air of mystique about them that was unfathomable. In actuality it was two glasses of the nectar given to him by Severus for passing his Practical Exam.

His Lord announcing he was holding a party and there was someone he especially wanted Harry to meet had stumped Harry, though the celebratory atmosphere in Slytherin Mansion since Tuesday had been so infectious even his Lord seemed caught up in it. That he had called someone other than the Inner Circle a 'friend', had stunned Harry. His Lord had a friend important enough to want Harry to meet them? The realisation that he didn't really know anything about his Lord was hard to take. His personal life, for the most part, was a empty book to him.

"We have the time now, without any distraction, for you to fill in the pages," Voldemort had said, reading his thoughts. "I have no secrets from you, Harry. I will tell you anything you want to know. Take you anywhere you want to go. We will travel and I will show you the world as it is today. It has changed much since your guided 'tour' with the Mother."

Harry was elated with the idea of travel. Cheekily he tested his Lord's word. "I'll break lesson number two. Who was your first lover." He asked.

"That rule no longer applies. Your jealously is no longer an issue. And it was Alcina," Voldemort said very dryly. "Which from the look in your eyes does not surprise you in the least."

Harry shook his head laughing delightedly. "I met her, during the Mother's tour. I really liked her. Really liked her." He repeated. "The future Lord of all Magic? She wouldn't have let you get away, no more than she did Merlin. Her seduction of mortal men is legendary, but they don't hold her attention. A powerful Immortal wizard is something she cannot resist." Harry smiled impishly. "Time's messed up when you travel as I did. She talked of you. If it helps, you didn't bore her."

"I believe there is a large number of animals and trees that are testament to those who did. She left me high and dry one day. I never heard from her or saw her again. She was a wealth of knowledge and the second influence that entered my life and was missed when they left." Voldemort was reclining on the bed, naked. Harry sighed as stood by the fireplace his eyes running over that strong powerful body, wishing for the millionth time he could have a painting of his Lord in that exact pose.

"She is wonderful," Harry said dreamily. "So beautiful and such a magnificent Sorceress! The Mother's favourite 'daughter'. The Mother said Bella's daughter would be as great a Sorceress as Alcina, do you suppose Bella's daughter is going to be as great a seductress."

"Who cares." Voldemort had drawled huskily. "Harry, come here..."

Coming back to the present Harry took one last look in the mirror. Half the people coming tonight didn't know that he was 'with' the Lord of All Magic. Half the people wouldn't even know who he was. He took a long deep breath. He was Lord Potter-Black. He was the Prophet of Magic. He was The Lord of all Magic's Consort. And he didn't look good. He looked bloody incredible. Harry smiled lazily. Just for once, it felt great to be vain. He held his arm out for Hermione who looked sexy and sultry in a short ruched silk dress that left her shoulders and a long legs bare. The colour of the material blended in with her honey skin giving her an almost 'nude' look. Harry laughed suddenly.

"What? What are you laughing at?" She asked as she placed her hand in the crook of his arm.

"The two Griffindor virgins that arrived here all those weeks ago. I think they have both been thoroughly debauched since then... Don't you?"

Hermione smiled and nodded. Instinctively they hugged, nearly crushing each other. "I love you, Hermione." Harry said thickly.

"I love you too, Harry."

"Oh dear Merlin and all the gods." Voldemort's companion breathed looking past him. "I have just found my reason for living. He will be in my bed before this night is out and coming home with me after the Summit tomorrow if I have to give him double his weight in diamonds!"

Voldemort sighed deeply. He just knew without turning that it was Harry the American Minister was referring to. He shook his head and decided it was something he was going to have to live with until the whole world knew that Harry was his and that to even look at his Creature in a manner offensive to the Lord of all Magic would mean certain death. Besides, he couldn't very well kill the Minister here and now... could he?

A light hand on his shoulder brought him back to himself. He turned and his head snapped back in shock as he took in his Creature fully. For nearly a full minute he just stared at him. The Minister cleared his throat impatiently.

"Harry," Voldemort said tightly. "Harry, this is Anatol Kristen, the American Minister of Magic. This is Lord Potter-Black, better known as Harry Potter and..."

The American Minister bowed before taking the exquisite creature's hand and holding on to it firmly. "Charmed Lord Potter-Black. Delighted in fact." The middle aged very handsome Minister grinned broadly, his deep blue eyes sweeping the vision in front of him up and down before staring into the most alluring pair of smoky green 'bedroom eyes' he had ever seen.

Harry smiled slightly at the intense perusal. He looked at his Lord who was staring fixedly at his robe. "Are you all right my Lord? You look rather pale." He gently pulled his hand free of the one clasping it and stroked his fingers over his Lord's heavy frown. His hand was caught and the palm turned inwards before being pressed against hard lips.

"You look... you look... dangerous, my Creature." Voldemort finished. He shook his head with a wry smile and pulled Harry into him, kissing him hard and deep before pulling back and settling him into his side with a possessive arm slung across his shoulders. He looked at the Minister. "As I was saying, Anatol, this is Harry Potter, my Consort."

"Fuck it!" Anatol exclaimed. "Of course he is. I suppose I should have known as soon as he walked into the room. Still, Harry... if I may call you that? If you ever tire of Tom, I am but an ocean away. America will welcome you with open arms as will I. Your hair is beautiful my dear but it would look so much better spread across my pillows."

Harry gave a short shocked laugh. Then glanced at Voldemort to see him roll his eyes. "Anatol and I are very old friends, Harry, as you may have surmised on account of him not being dead... yet. He is the Friend I wanted you to meet."

"Revenge for you having the most exquisite creature I have ever laid eyes on." Anatol drawled. "But... if any wizard deserves the best in this world it is you. I never thought to see the day that you found your equal. I am very happy for you, Tom. And Harry," He said very sternly. "Treat him well won't you."

For a moment Harry's eyes widened in surprise then he started laughing again at the preposterous idea of anyone, much less him, mistreating his Lord. Anatol kept up his stern face for a minute until he too started laughing.

"When you laugh you stop my heart." He said. "I had to make you do it again. Trust Tom to bag you." He braced himself. "Onwards, the night is young and I must find my prey." His eyes started darting around the room.

"I suppose it is too much to ask that you behave." Voldemort drawled.

"What do you think," Anatol said drily. "You are going to bed with a dream tonight while mine is still empty. However... as I said the night is young. Any recommendations, Tom, Harry..." He paused as he spotted Hermione. "Ohhhh my. Bye you two." He went to move towards her. Voldemort grabbed his arm and dragged him back.

"No." He laughed. "I would have to rescue you from Severus."

"Tom. Tell me you haven't invited me to a party where everyone bed-worthy is taken!"

Harry was intrigued. He was drawn to Anatol like a magnet. He had such an easy grace and likeable charm about him. And it was fascinating to meet someone who spoke to his Lord as if he were... just a normal wizard! And Voldemort was so relaxed around him, showing a side to him Harry had never seen before.

"I have never heard anyone call my Lord 'Tom'." Harry mused.

Anatol frowned. "No one else does - do they, Tom?" He narrowed his eyes as if the thought displeased him.

"No, you are still the only one, Anatol, so wipe that look of your face." He looked at Harry a smile curling his lips. "Anatol and I were at Hogwarts together, Harry, for two years, before his parents left for America. We kept in touch and later met again when he attended my graduation. Then again during the first war when he thinks he saved my life. Then again after my resurrection when I travelled to America, rescued him from prison and helped him take the Ministry."

"Now there's a very long and tedious story cut short." Anatol muttered. "And I did save your life! Twice! Harry, when all of this... business is over, I insist that Tom brings you to America for a long visit. There I will tell you all about us and what really happened. But for now, you must tell me, who is that?!"

"Amycus." Harry said distractedly. "How can you be as old as my Lord? You look to be Lucius' age!"

"Interesting fact for you Harry, I bedded his father, Abraxas. Tom won't let me bed his son - or his son's wife the lovely Narcissa. I am four years older than Tom, Harry. And much better looking. Introduce me, quick."

"To Amycus?" Harry said his voice rising in pitch.

"Yes – of course Amycus, do you see any one else in this room as supple and lost." Anatol hissed.

And indeed Amycus did look very supple in a skin tight silver and dark green dress robe, his blond hair tied into a ponytail. And he did look lost as he watched his sister dancing with Antonin, and Rabastan dancing with some witch Harry had never seen before. Remembering Amycus' flirting with Hermione, Harry tried to be diplomatic.

"Er... well... em, Anatol... I don't think he's... you know... I don't think he..."

"Of course he is... quick, before gets away!" Anatol said in a panic as Amycus started to walk off in the opposite direction.

But Harry was leaning on his Lord laughing hysterically. The sound of it had all the people in the vicinity staring at him in wonder. Amycus, hearing his Prophet, turned sharply and made his way over to him. "Lord Voldemort," he bowed. "Harry, what's got you into such a state. Share it for Merlin's sake as I'm about to go to my bed and expire from complete boredom!"

"Oh no... You need not fear that, my dear Amycus," Anatol purred, giving Harry a sharp kick. "I have a yacht moored on the lake. You shall come to my bed and we will make love under the stars until morning!"

"What?! Who are... What?!" Amycus spluttered, giving an amused Voldemort a blank look before scowling at Anatol.

"Yes, yes." Anatol put a soothing arm around Amycus and moved his lips closer to his ear. "Seize this night, Amycus, and I promise come morning you will not know the meaning of the word 'boredom'." His voice lowered hypnotically as he stared into wide dark brown eyes. "I will take you to places you have never been and show you things you have never seen. I am an opportunity you will not want to miss."

He held out his palm and a ball of silver light appeared hovering a few inches above it. Then dark green stars materialised spinning around its circumference. There was a flash and sitting in Anatol's palm was a translucent silver crystal ball, the dark green stars sparking as they lazily floated around inside. It was the exact same colours as Amycus' robe and it was extraordinarily beautiful.

"For you, my dear." Anatol said, placing the ball into Amycus' hand. "Goodnight, Tom, Harry." He gave the open mouthed Prophet a smug smile and drew an unprotesting Amycus away, his hand running down his spine to the small of his back as they walked to the door.

"A warlock." Harry breathed, starting off after him.

"Oh no you don't." Voldemort laughed grabbing a handful of Harry's hair, and yanking him back into his chest. He wrapped his arms firmly around his waist. "You are staying right here with me."

Harry looked up at him blinking. "What just happened? Is Amycus... I mean I didn't realise... not that I would... but Hermione... and it was so... quick..."

Voldemort grinned wickedly. "Are you embarrassed, Harry?"

"NO! I just..."

"Amycus has no preference. He enjoys both sexes, as does Anatol. Does that answer your Question? And as for the speed, not many can resist Anatol."

"That doesn't surprise me. He is... bewitching! Did you ever sleep with him?" Harry asked curiously.

Voldemort looked at him and raised a brow. "And if I did?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing. It wouldn't change a thing. I really like him. It's impossible not to!"

Voldemort smiled and stroked a hand through his hair. "No. We were never suited in that way. We both like to be in control. On top." He emphasised to a slightly blushing Harry, watching the colour deepen with amusement.

"Anatol was a fifth year Slytherin Prefect when I was a clueless skinny first year. He took me under 'his wing' and set me on the road to what I am now." Voldemort looked into the distance for a moment. "He said he had felt the power in me from the moment I walked into the Great Hall for the sorting. He gave me the right books to read, and taught me about the real magic of a world I knew nothing about. He... elevated me in the eyes of the other Slytherins because he was so respected... and feared." Voldemort added dryly. "He was my mentor. When he left I was thirteen... I... missed him." He shook his head as if clearing it.

"The first influence you missed was Anatol, the Second Alcina." Harry stroked his Lord's cheek. "She will reappear one day, she has been missing for decades, but in her time, that is nothing."

Voldemort smiled. "Come Harry, it is time you met everyone here that does not know you. By morning, the world will know that you are mine. That way if any other – apart from Anatol – makes the grave mistake of telling me they wish to bed you – I can kill them."

Harry laughed and leaned up to kiss him. Over his shoulder Voldemort saw Rita Skeeter with a photographer threading their way through the milling crowd. As they walked towards them he deliberately swept Harry into a long passionate kiss that the excited photographer took several photos of. Skeeter had her quick quill penning maniacally until she suddenly fell to the floor screeching deafeningly.

"There." Bella said to Alecto, lifting the Crucio she was holding the reporter under. "Are you satisfied now?"

"No. I still think we should have killed her." Alecto pouted. "Do it again, Bella. In case she's 'wet'." She sneered.

As Voldemort walked towards his two miscreant cackling witches, Harry wondered if Alecto had the slightest idea where her brother was.

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Authors Note: Thanks Favs and Followers, special thanks to all reviewers. Love you all.

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noelnoel2: Well, the general consensus is that he died and became a Saint of happy death or was it family death, I know death is in there somewhere... some such rubbish anyway. My theory is he got pissed off with being ignored and left to set up a Gay bar in Sodom. Thanks as always for your review. One more chapter, a small epilogue and it's Finished!