Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me!

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Really. I know the update has been extremely slow but close to the end of the chapter is some excitement which will be carried out in the next few chapters. Hopefully you will forgive me for my slowness. Recently I got a border collie puppy and my grandparents, who really hate dogs, found out... and many annoying things happened.

Anyway, thank you for your brilliant, brilliant reviews - and I just wanted to tell you that each and every single one means the world to me. Really. :) Reviews for this chapter are encouraged. ;)

Sorry, no slash planned for this fic.

On with the story!

One Month Later

"…regrettably he was not in his office."

"The Dark Lord is gone."

The teen came to a dead halt, striking green eyes widening in a hybrid of astonishment and rage. Dark brows furrowed automatically at the claim uttered flatly in a deadpan tone.

"Gone?" Harry echoed, with a dash of anger. "Do you mean 'gone' as disappeared without a trace or 'gone' as in dead?"

He stared intently at the man who was imperturbably stirring his potion with his wand, greasy strands of black hair almost an inch from dipping into the concoction. The Potion master barely had the courtesy to spare him a sideways glance.

"No need to be so melodramatic, Potter," Snape retorted witheringly. "The Dark Lord merely has business in the world outside to tend."

Scoffing dryly in response, Harry paced back and forth in front of his old professor, fists clenched.

"That liar, he always does this," he muttered. "He still hasn't arranged even one of those flying lessons he promised me a month ago."

"Yes, Potter," Snape said sarcastically, still messing with the potion, "the Dark Lord has nothing better to do than indulge you… after all, the whole world revolves around you; your radiance is brighter than the sun itself."

Harry growled softly in reply.

"The Dark Lord's timetable has been particularly full of activity in the last month or so," Snape continued, "with details regarding a potential partnership and affairs that stretch beyond your comprehension."

"Oh?" Harry challenged. "Try me."

"Dealings of the Dark Lord do not concern you."

"Says the greasy bat that lurks in his workroom all day long."

Severus Snape snapped his hand down on the wooden table sharply, and twisted round to glare his old student in the eye, piercingly.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Mr Potter," he said slickly, a corner of the lip curling upwards. "I am looking after your best interests."

Smirking, Harry pulled an arrogant expression that was more for show than anything else. "Good thing I'm not a cat then, isn't it?"

"I think you'll find that the saying applies to many more animals than just felines."

"Perhaps you're right."

"I am more than right, Potter," Snape remarked, adding a last sprinkle of cockroach dust to the bubbling brew. It turned a rather shocking shade of neon pink. "In fact –"

Harry interrupted, cutting across his speech, "When in Merlin's bloody beard did Voldemort go anyway?"

"Profanity is not tolerated in my presence," Snape commented deprecatingly. "If you prefer getting kicked out of my workroom, then, by all means, go ahead –"

"Fine, sorry," Harry said, flicking a wrist in dismissal.

However, Snape seemed resolute to finish what words he started, "– otherwise, clean your mouth before you open it again."

"Okay," Harry stressed the term. "So… how come he left without leaving any sort of message for me or Tom?"

"Again, I am forced to repeat, Potter, that the world does not revolve around you," Snape said. "The Dark Lord must have had his reasons – or lack thereof – for writing a sentimental letter of farewell to you."

Harry sighed and marched across the room, focusing on the swirly patterns that decorated the wall.

"Are you trying to wear a hole through my carpet?" Snape asked.

"No." He stopped his pacing. "Or I'd simply take out my wand and blast it to smithereens."

The Potions master glowered fiercely at him. "I'd like to see if you dare, Potter."

"But why should I explode your carpet? That would be pointless… it doesn't solve anything." Harry rolled his eyes. "Hey, are you sure you cannot tell me where he went? Truth be told, I need to know –"

"Your determined pursue for answers is inane and I have no time for it," Snape said cuttingly. "It is not a secret that the Dark Lord is hoping to recruit vampire covens to enlarge his forces against Dumbledore."

Ears perking up in fascination, Harry echoed, "Vampires? I thought they were independent creatures; I didn't know they still assembled in covens."

"Apparently, they do."

"I did not quite catch the part about why Voldemort disappeared so urgently to rejoice with blood-sucking leeches."

"Mind your tongue, Potter," Snape said. "The leeches are a vital factor determining whether it will be our lord's victory or downfall…"

He scowled grimly at Harry. "Now that I have told you what you wanted to know, can you leave me in peace?"

Taking a spoon, Snape ladled a generous amount of the slimy liquid in the cauldron into a polished glass flask. "My next potion requires the utmost care and concentration, neither of which is possible while you are here."

"I'll go immediately, oh, and thank you for your information." Harry moved towards the exit of the room, pausing hesitantly at the door as if remembering something. "When will the Dark Lord come back?"

"I have no idea."

Harry skirted out with a wave of goodbye, letting the door slide close behind him. "Au revoir, Professor."

—0O0—

Harry sauntered from the gloom of the potions workroom, up the grand staircases and past the egotistic, gold-framed portraits, many of whom glared down their noses at him, as if offended by his smell.

The Dark Lord must have left in the early hours of dawn, probably before the first rays of light even struck the sky.

Or Harry would have bumped into him.

Harry himself was an early riser, and he tended to dine on whatever scrumptious breakfast the elves scrambled to prepare ahead of everybody else.

After all, the early bird caught the worm…

Plus, he rather relished the tranquil, undisturbed privacy that the empty kitchen provided him. That type of serene stillness was very hard to come by during these days of constant chaos and dark magic and war.

Once he'd finished his routine breakfast, Harry had disappeared to find the Dark Lord.

The damned man was exceedingly busy in those recent weeks, time and time again failing to make an appearance at dinner. Harry had thought a reminder regarding his flying lessons was in order, lest the wizard forget.

The attempt to seek Voldemort out, Harry realised, soon proved to be a grave mistake. It was a worthless waste of time.

Having literally searched high and low for the Dark Lord, scanning room to room starting with his neat office, Harry had finally gone to Snape – and it turned out the entire bloody search had been for nothing.

By that time, the morning had slipped by, unnoticed, and it was late noon.

His stomach rumbled unceremoniously – and almost subconsciously, Harry made his way to the kitchens.

Unfortunately, Harry was sorry to say, it turned out to be an inopportune moment to order a filling lunch.

The slender, graceful back of Daphne Greengrass, hunched over what seemed to be a teapot, brought a displeased frown to Harry's face. She was literally the very last person he wished to see.

Planning on quietly walking out and coming back later when the hag was gone, Harry turned.

In perfect unison, the floor let out a deafening creak.

Daphne leapt up, a strangely panicked expression passing fleetingly over her sharp features before she gained enough composure to conceal her shock at being intruded upon.

Her hands fumbled, twitching, and Harry noted that she had been pouring an attractive flask of colourless liquid into the teapot. Daphne tossed the flask aside, and he saw that it was empty of its contents.

Curiosity probed at him – but he steeled himself resolutely against it. It was none of his business anyway. "Feeling tense, are you?"

Pleasant manners and Pureblood etiquettes blowing away like an elegant wisp of disbanding mist, Daphne sneered at him, red lips twisting cruelly in irascibility. "What are you doing here, Potter?" She spat out his last name as if it had a bitter edge to it.

"For the same reason you are here," Harry replied coolly. "Of course."

Daphne appeared marginally taken aback, blanching a shade paler. "Drop your games," she hissed ominously. "I have no time for them."

"Do not fret, your Ladyship," Harry said sarcastically, raising his mockingly in a feigned gesture of appeasement. "I have no time for you either."

Her smooth face, which otherwise may genuinely have looked incredibly beautiful, contorted into a warped expression of menacing hostility. "If I were you, Harry, I would be extremely careful where I tread."

Harry arched a questioning eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Have you not heard?" Her voice grew ever softer. "The Dark Lord will be gone for a week or so, and within that time range, you cannot hide using him as your safeguard."

Green eyes narrowed dangerously. "Is this a threat?"

"No; it is simply a fact I am kindly sharing with you."

"I am grateful towards you," Harry said, "but your facts are not necessary; I can take care of myself well enough –"

"– and yet you require the Dark Lord to mollycoddle you. Are you a wizard who is nearly of age or a toddler, I wonder?" The remark was accompanied by a shrill, disdainful laugh.

"I doubt the Dark Lord makes a habit out of selecting toddlers for apprentices."

Daphne unleashed a smirk, like a cat that got the cream. Harry knew, however, that beneath the smug facade was a storm of negative emotions. Hatred, rage, envy, spite. They all targeted him, each and every single one of them. "I assume you are a special case."

"Yes, well, at least special cases are interesting enough to capture your lord's attention," Harry countered quietly. "We wouldn't want to be boring, would we?"

"Definitely not."

"Only dead fish swim with the stream all the time," Harry murmured. "The quickest method to bleed someone's interest is to act dull."

Daphne nodded warily, aware that she was being baited.

"And, oh, you know…" Harry drummed his slim fingers on the table in neat rhythms, "… Tom is not well known for playing with dreary toys that have all the entertainment drained out of them."

He tilted his head diplomatically. "Just a word of warning from a fellow apprentice."

Greengrass' face darkened from the paleness rivalling a snowflake, to the dark red of a rotting tomato left in the sun for too long.

Harry barely supressed an explosion of laughter. They both knew his words were not a prior warning as much as the current predicament; Tom was ignoring Daphne.

Snubbing her downright. Had been at it since the duel. He disparaged her attempts at flirtation with either contempt or indifference.

Daphne, the poor, silly girl, could not seem to comprehend that her Prince Charming had transformed into a lethal viper.

It was evident from the grimace that Tom Riddle was a sore spot for her… But then again, Harry found rubbing salt into her wounds utterly irresistible. Revenge was sweet.

While Harry successfully controlled his laughter, Daphne did not manage to rein in her temper. Sucking in a sharp breath, the ice queen exploded – not in laughter but anger.

"Is this supposed to mean something?" she snapped, nostrils flaring.

Her eyelids were opening and closing violently fast, as though she was delirious in her fury. Figuratively speaking, she was frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog.

Harry shrugged delicately. "Does it mean anything to you?" His voice rung coldly, crystal clear; it contrasted sharply with his gentle enquiry.

"Stay out of my love life," Daphne snarled, savagely with the refinement of a caveman. She appeared like she could hardly restrain herself from slapping him across the face, having deserted all her decorum.

He tsked, quietly. "That is rather a… an ill choice of terms. Love life suggests your relationship with your lover. Except Tom is not your sweetheart, is he?"

Silence grew like a heavy storm cloud of his declaration as Daphne refused to answer.

"I mean… he may be the love of your life…" Harry added a deliberate pause, for dramatic effect. "I apologise for putting it like this, but this infatuation may not be mutual. Of course, I do not mean you are arm candy or anything; it's just that this love may be one-sided."

Her features twisted horribly at 'arm candy'. Harry doubted she appreciated the name, especially because it referred to an attractive companion who accompanied one at social events but held not real worth.

"Perhaps that is why Tom is, you know, turning his back on you…" Harry cleared his throat as if to say, 'ahem, this is awkward.'

Greengrass bared her teeth. And Harry found himself wondering, in amusement, if she was secretly picturing tearing him apart with her teeth.

"Perhaps he thinks you are envisioning a bond that never existed. Riddle is a thoughtful boy at heart; I am guessing he simply doesn't want to lead you on."

Pah. This is hilarious.
He was struggling hard not to chuckle at his own sentences. Riddle, a thoughtful boy at heart? More like a flourishing sadist.

Nothing he said had ever been richer.

Her jaws clenched tighter and Harry swore he could hear a grinding noise. A short, humourless laugh emerged from her lips. "You sounded almost like you cared for a second."

"I do care." He arranged his expression into an anxious, innocent one and pulled a sincere smile at his female nemesis.

Daphne's fingers twitched in the general direction of her sleeve, where her wand lay within.

"I'd bet you do." She eyed him viciously. "What bad, terrible things have you told Tom about me to keep him away?"

"I didn't have to say anything."

She scoffed. "And so he left of his own accord? Without any persuasion? I might actually believe you if I'm not convinced it was your doing, Potter."

"Sure." He looked like he could not care less. "Believe whatever makes you sleep at night. Nothing I claim will change your view… you know what they say: the eyes are useless if the mind is blind."

"My mind is not blind!" Daphne hissed venomously, malice lacing her every syllable. "You have to learn to respect your superiors, Potter –!"

In a cavalier manner, Harry flapped his hand in indifference. "What superiors? I see none around."

"I'm sick of you, your presence, and your very existence!" Daphne spat out, impaling the teen with a lethal glare.

If looks could kill, he would be dead ten times over.

"Strutting around as if you own the place, stealing the Dark Lord's attention after you betrayed him, tainting the very name of the Dark Arts with your filthy blood!" Daphne did not even pause for breath. "You seem to be incapable of getting into your mind the fact that you are substandard; not worthy of being in my, or Tom's, company."

"Yet the lowly Half-blood can crush your dignity and best you in all areas of magic."

Daphne Greengrass barely looked human anymore. Her twisted red lips, coated with a surface shine, seemed to mirror the bloodlust on her mind. Her eyebrows, hunched low from the menacing frown, almost touched her eyelashes.

She was the least beautiful person Harry had ever seen in his life. If he did not know better, he would have assumed she had undergone plastic surgery and displayed her ugly heart on her face for all to see.

"Wait and see, Potter, I will ruin your wretched, worthless little life until you beg for death," Daphne promised lowly, her voice brushing silkily over him. The tone was deadly serious, grave. It was a vow more than anything else.

"Just wait. I'll see to it personally that you are broken. You look so arrogant now, but when the time comes – and it'll come soon, I guarantee you that – I'll take pleasure in watching you crumple."

Harry felt marginally unnerved by the solemnity.

"I'll turn the person you love against you. You will pay for the misfortunes you have caused me; there is a price for crossing me, for my lost favour with the Dark Lord."

Daphne marched across the room, pausing at the door.

"When you fall, I will be there. Not to catch you; to destroy you."

And then, to Harry's surprise, she opened the door and was gone.

It was a swift exit, and he was left to ponder on the meaning behind her last words of vengeance. She had indicated a painful experience, if not death for him, and she showed all the alarming signs of going through with her plans.

Harry knew a bluff when he saw one, especially a death threat… And honestly, Daphne's warning was ridiculous enough to be purely for intimidation purposes.

Except… he couldn't shake off the sincerity of Daphne's expression.

Oh well, he would just have to be extra cautious while he went about his daily tasks. No biggie.

Clicking his fingers, he summoned a pair of elves to prepare his lunch and when it was ready with hot stream arising from it, he took the tray graciously and disappeared to dine in the preferable privacy of his bedroom.

—0O0—

Late afternoon light flooded in through the window, lighting the room up with an enchanted ambience. It felt like nothing could possibly go wrong.

High over the horizon was the ball of fire that began the time-consuming task of drifting its way down to the bottom of the sky. The sky was painted with golden, peachy-orange coloured strokes of the brush, with clouds scattered throughout like wind-blown candyfloss.

It was a genuinely picturesque sight to behold.

But not for Harry who was already getting up from his sitting position at the desk that overlooked the wide windows.

Spending a couple of hours with only the company of pretty landscapes was like watching grass grow. Pleasant at first – but an activity that ensured terminal boredom.

Perhaps he could go to the kitchens to order another snack or…

With that in mind, he headed for the kitchens again.

It honestly was maddeningly inconvenient when one took into account the sheer multitude of stairs there were in Voldemort's manor. He did not care much for climbing up and down the things but until this day, his opinion about them had largely been indifferent.

Sadly, that soon changed.

Too much time had been wasted.

If only he had got there a minute earlier.

The picture that greeted him once he arrived in the kitchens was deceptively innocent at first glance but it set his heart racing once his mind registered the peril.

Tom Blasted Riddle was sitting calmly at a table, and directly in front of his was a steaming cup of jasmine tea, poured from a seemingly ordinary teapot.

Of course, it all could have been nothing… but the familiarity of the teapot jogged his memory.

Daphne Greengrass had been messing with it a few hours ago, tossing a small flask of something into the liquid.

Oh, great.

Horror set in at the likelihood of a poison of some kind sitting at the bottom of Tom's cup, just eagerly waiting to be drunk, to kick in.

Harry's reflexes spontaneously launched into action, arm outstretched to knock the cup aside. He was only a few metres from the Slytherin Heir, and pulling out a wand would have been too late.

"Stop!" he called. "Drop it!"

Tom had already lifted it to his lips; he shot Harry a blank look of surprise.

Apparently, the warning shout had been too vague.

The cup tilted downwards and the drink surged forward onto Riddle's lips, keen to embrace the soft skin.

Harry was upon the older Slytherin. He reached out, with the quickness of lightning.

Tom took a sip.

With a hasty swipe, Harry knocked the cup and its contents flew onto the floor.

But it was too late.

The young Dark Lord had taken a sip, and the tea or potion or whatever had gotten into his system. Harry watched helplessly as his eyes glazed over.

"Tom?" he ventured, hardly daring to pray. "Are you…?"

As soon as it appeared, the glazed look was gone. Tom straightened up and sent Harry a stare of utter disapproval. "Why did you throw a cup of perfectly good tea?" he said wryly, tsking. "The elves will have one additional task."

Harry almost sighed in relief, but the unease was not wholly gone. "Did you taste anything strange in the tea?"

"Strange?" Tom arched a brow. "No. Did you plant a toad in there?"

"No…"

—0O0—

Harry burst into Professor Snape's workroom, expecting to find the wizard stiffly stirring one brew or another. He expected the reprimanding slap on the wrist about the importance of knocking on doors and not intruding on a private moment.

However, he did not find any of those.

The workroom was dark, silent and worse of all, completely deserted.

All hopes of immediately finding an answer to what the potion that Tom had drunk was vanished. For all it seemed, Tom was unharmed and the substance in the flask had been completely meaningless, resulting in nothing but a second of glazed eyes.

Except Harry was not happy with the apparent worry over nothing. He'd rather have an idea of what it was supposed to do than be sorry after something happened to Riddle.

All potions had purposes. Each master brewer and Potion master invented concoctions with certain desires in mind. As far as Harry knew, glazed eyes had never been on the list of desired effects.

It was more likely to be a side effect of something that would set in later.

Biting the insides of his mouth, Harry wrote a message on a spare bit of parchment he found on a desk.

Professor,

I'm scared Tom's been poisoned. For all we know, it could very well be nothing. But I'd feel safer if you can come as soon as possible and check on him. Daphne slipped something in his tea. His drink had been spiked – either deliberately or accidentally…

I hope Tom hasn't drunk what was meant for me. The only information I can provide you right now is that it's tasteless; Tom said so. But it might also be colourless – I do not know. Otherwise, Tom surely would have noticed.

Get back to me,

Harry.

A mile from satisfaction, all he could do was hold his fire and wait for Snape to reply. In the meantime, he might as well be beside Tom in the case that something did happen.

A million thoughts flooding his clogged mind, Harry made his way out of the room.

He dearly hoped that the tea had not been meant for him. Or else the results could be fatal if Daphne's death threats were to be taken seriously. Not to mention, now that he thought about it, Daphne had been so jumpy, so apprehensive, when Harry found her previously.

But surely, Daphne would not be so foolish as to think that he would drink the tea after he had seen the poison being snuck into it –

Harry came to a dead halt as he rounded an empty corridor.

Daphne Greengrass had clearly been lying in wait for him to stumble across her.

"Well, alone in a corridor and utterly defenceless, are we?" Daphne whispered, triumph lacing her girlish voice. She took a menacing step forward, wand raised in the trademark signal of an upcoming duel.

"Sure you want to duel?" Harry challenged, bluntly. "Last time, if I recall correctly, you made a fool of yourself. Since I too have a wand, I would not exactly call myself defenceless."

He made no move to retrieve it, calm with the fact that he could best her in any condition.

"Tragically – for you, it will be different this time," Daphne told him.

As if on cue, a movement in the darkness caught Harry's eye. Like leaving behind the fog that once shrouded around him like a shawl, the figure stepped forward imperiously.

Harry's breath hitched as he drank in the familiar – and yet utterly cold – blue orbs. It was contradictory, he knew, but he could not think of any other ways to describe it except to say that it was both familiar and alien simultaneously.

He felt like the figure in front of him was a stranger. The equally cruel, sadistic twist of the lips that triggered goosebumps across his arms had never once been directed at him until now.

Never before had he felt so scared of the young wizard. He had never been made to feel like cornered prey by the figure. Of course, he knew the brutal measures that the young wizard was capable of, but he had never been the target.

This time, he had no doubts about who was the predator and who was the prey.

Harry had been confident – but the sureness fell, leaking away like water droplets between desperate fingers, when the direness of the situation hit him.

Almost stumbling backwards, Harry seized his wand from his sleeve and stood his ground, shaking like a leaf in shock.

If it was purely him against Daphne, Harry had no misgivings. He would win, easy as pie. He could bring her down without breaking a sweat if she had been alone… and even if she did somehow find a random ally, it still would have been effortless work.

Except the circumstances caught him entirely by surprise. Greengrass was right. Things would be different.

This wasn't good.

Wasn't good at all.

Not for him.

He jerked his wand at Daphne's companion. "What have you done to him?" he snarled, revealing teeth and all. "I swear if you've poisoned him, I'll –" An intense sensation of unease had gripped his heart in a death hold.

"You will do what?" Daphne inquired sweetly.

The sickly sugary tone hurt his eardrums.

"I will reward you with the slowest, most painful death you have ever imagined," Harry growled. "You can get a personal dose of the special Cruciatus Curse – course, I've never had a taste for such inhumane tasks but my pity is only reserved for those who are human."

"Indeed?"

Harry felt ice freeze in his veins. The question had not been asked by Daphne but Tom. Oh, Tom, oh Merlin. The tone was velvety, playful, charismatic… every quality desirable.

It was the kind that Tom frequently employed for prey.

For those helpless little creatures that he intended to rip into pieces. Either mentally or physically or both.

"Riddle," Harry muttered, through gritted teeth. To his relief, none of the concern or panic showed. "Get over here before I come and get you myself." He had hoped, hoped with all his will, that the words would have at least some sort of effect on Tom.

But they didn't.

Tom's frontier remained as icy as ever, eyes sparkling with bloodlust and marginally narrowed by the insolence of the command. Truthfully, he looked like just like one of those statues that had all the glory and beauty of the century carved on their faces – but actually was made entirely out of stone.

"Hmm… I was about to say that myself," Tom mused, pitch as light as ever, somehow contrasting sharply with the grimness of Harry's position.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry glanced around, noting the silence of the corridors and the muting charms in place and decided he had a pretty good idea himself of what they meant.

"You see, Harry, Daphne would like to take you some place else."

Then, Harry whipped his wand in front of him with force, just in time to protect himself.

All hell broke lose.

It's pretty obvious something happened to Tom.

Can anyone guess what?

I'd love to hear what you think! Cheers!