A lot to take in for this chapter. Sorry its a few days late ;) Thanks so much for your reviews.

Chapter Twenty Nine

"What are you doing here?" Izar asked scathingly, yet he controlled his expression. He always detested when an individual's face twisted in a less than pleasing expression. It was better to be attractive and contemptuous at the same time.

Lily sat stoically at Izar's bedside, her vivid green eyes tracing Izar's features almost obsessively. Her pale and small hands cupped each other on her lap, showing no signs of tremors or weakness.

"I've come to talk to you."

"Well, isn't that obvious?" Izar hissed. "Who let you in here, anyway?" He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes to keep the room from spinning. His head was bloody killing him. "No, don't tell me," he held up a hand, squinting mockingly at his mother. "I can see your nose halfway up Dumbledore's arsehole from here. Of course he arranged this for you."

"Yes and no," Lily confirmed, not at all abashed with Izar's vulgar language. Surprisingly, a light smirk lifted the corner of her mouth at his crude assumption. "I'm on decent terms with the main Healer for the Tournament." She nodded her chin casually across the room.

Izar turned, furrowing his brows as he made out the crimson robes of a Healer. The man was a good distance away from them, making a potion quickly, paying no heed to Lily and Izar. Averting his eyes from the Healer and onto Lily, he smirked. "Did you have his baby too?"

She frowned, her eyes narrowing just barely. She opened her mouth but Izar cut her off.

"Do you really expect me to listen to anything you intend to say? You had your chance at speaking with me for over fifteen years. Why do you think I'd listen after you screwed with Regulus' reputation and turned a blind eye to my upbringing?"

Lily leaned forward, her dark red ponytail falling across her shoulders. She placed her hands on the side of his cot, looking up at him evenly. There was no desperation, no vulnerability, only a woman who was confident and intelligent. Her eyes shone with sharp astuteness and also a bit of interest. "There are many things I regret to this day," her green eyes then brightened with remorse before they cleared. "I will never forgive myself for placing you at the Muggle orphanage. But I had to do it. I had to."

"Why?" Izar growled. He blamed his head injury for wanting to know the reasons she abandoned him. However, even Izar would admit that he deserved to know the reason the woman who conceived him had so easily dropped him at an orphanage. "Why did you leave me there, at the orphanage, of all places?"

She never removed her eyes off his. She was unwavering. He bitterly admitted that he was impressed with her handle on emotions. Apparently, he had underestimated this woman. She wasn't that drowned rat he had seen at the Department of Mysteries this summer. No, after she woke up from her deep depression, the woman could be considered a worthy opponent.

"I was young, incredibly uncertain and so… lost," she admitted. "My emotional state was unhealthy and there wasn't any way I could take care of an infant properly like a mother should. I thought the orphanage would be a good substitute to my care. There was also the option of allowing James to raise you. But I was selfish. Every time I looked at you, I would be reminded of what I had done to Regulus."

He sniffed, turning away from her and staring at the tent's flap. "You didn't care what you did to Regulus. You imbedded a sharp dagger in his back when he trusted you. There was no remorse on your behalf when you betrayed him."

Lily straightened up from her bowed position, her eyes flashing. "Perhaps not. But I grieved every hour, every second I was with him, knowing what emotional turmoil I would put him through with my actions."

"You conceived me just to lead his hand," Izar lashed out. "You were a pitiless bitch."

Green eyes darkened. "I was," she admitted. "As much as I hated myself for what I did to him, I would have done it all again if I had succeeded the second time around. A rising Dark Lord is nothing to play around with, Izar. Destroying the Dark Lord was my primary goal. Loving Regulus, unfortunately, came a close second."

Izar shook his head, fury burning the walls of his stomach and chest. "Regulus told me all about what you did. You had him turn his back on the life he knew to follow you like a love-sick puppy. You then had him search for a priceless artifact in Bellatrix's vault, knowing and not caring what the consequences would be if he was found out."

Lily raised her shaped eyebrows. "He told you everything?"

For a moment, Izar debated. If he played oblivious to everything she was hinting at with the Dark Lord and the Horcruxes, it would be far more difficult to dance around in the future and remember what he feigned naive about. If he confirmed he knew everything, it would be easier to extract the reasons why she did what she did. It also would not hurt Voldemort. The man didn't have Horcruxes. There would be no foul.

"Regulus told me all I needed to know," Izar side-stepped the question. "You believed there was a rising Dark Lord," he murmured. "That was over sixteen years ago that you believed such a farce. Where is the Dark Lord now? Your actions for betraying Regulus and I were for naught. There is no Dark Lord."

She was silent for a long moment, searching him. He knew, she too, was trying to figure out how much he knew and how much to tell him. And then Izar realized that this relationship, whatever it was, was based on lies. It was also a dance with her, a tiring dance he needed to play in the battle of the mind. While Izar still found it difficult to let down his barriers with Regulus, his father was someone Izar could trust.

"You know Undersecretary Riddle is a Dark Lord in disguise," she called his bluff. For good measure, her eyes dropped to his left forearm.

Izar glanced down at his bare arm. He was clothed in a shirt, revealing most the skin on his arm. However, Daphne's armband she created for the fans of Hogwarts' Champion was tied over his 'Dark Mark'. Lily wouldn't have seen Izar's manipulations with the Mark, but she assumed there was the Dark Lord's Mark on his skin.

He looked back up at her, unabashed. "Undersecretary Riddle—"

"Our spy has already told us of your initiation," she replied coolly. "From what they said, you've already made your way up to Lord Voldemort's second ranking." Her face held no emotion. Again, he was reminded that this was a different woman from what he had seen in the Department of Mysteries.

A spy— Severus Snape. Izar's lips thinned and he mirrored Lily's unemotional face with his own. Just how much did Professor Snape tell Dumbledore and his Order? Did Voldemort know Snape was giving information to Dumbledore? True information?

"That's pretty hard to prove," Izar retorted softly. He would never outright agree that Tom Riddle was the Dark Lord Voldemort and he would never acknowledge that he was a Death Eater.

She smiled softly, yet her eyes remained pensive as she studied him. "You're a very smart boy, Izar," she breathed softly. Crossing her legs, she clasped her fingers together over her knees. In all ways, she looked every bit of a graceful pure-blood. Only, she was a bit unhealthy looking and haunted. "Despite not being raised by Regulus and I, you turned out to know your way around words."

"I take your compliment to heart, really," Izar drawled dryly.

Her dark lashes brushed her cheeks as she looked down at her hands. "I'm not here to collect evidence that you're a Death Eater, Izar. I've come here to explain myself and my side of the story. Nevertheless, I know it will probably be in vain for you to understand my reasons. You've already been touched by the Dark's opinion on certain matters."

Izar scoffed, looking up at the tent's ceiling. "Personally, I don't see what the Light and Dark sides of the world have anything to do with a mother's and lover's betrayal."

"That's exactly right," Lily commended. "We got distracted from our original topic. I told you if I had to do it over—"

"If you had to do it over again, you would do the same thing," Izar finished for her, disgusted.

"Yes," the woman conceded. "Though, I would do one thing different." Her emerald eyes were bright as she looked passionately at Izar. "I would have never used a child as a bargaining chip. I was desperate to get Regulus to turn away from his family's involvement with the Dark Lord, so I gave him the one thing he'd always wanted, a child. All those years ago, I thought it was a brilliant way to get him to assist destroying the Horcruxes. Now, I realize the flaw in my ways. I destroyed you and your childhood. An innocent body in this situation."

She lifted her chin, a thin line to her lips. She looked as if she was trying hard to control her tears and emotions, and she succeeded. It was almost if she believed Izar would be disgusted with her tears, so she tried her hardest to keep them at bay. She was right. Izar would see the tears as meaningless ways of expressing her regret.

"I will forever hate myself for what I did to you. I will never ask forgiveness from you because I don't deserve it and also because I don't want it."

Before Izar could tell her she didn't need to worry about him forgiving her, she continued.

"There were many other alternatives to leaving you in an orphanage. I could have placed you with my sister and her Muggle family," she ignored Izar's deep sneer. "I could have placed you in a magical orphanage or I could have glamoured you into looking like James and passed you off as his son. But I would be deceiving James more than I already had. I loved Regulus in Hogwarts, or, I believed I did. When I graduated, I came to love James as he matured."

"I don't really care who you loved and who you didn't," Izar murmured, bored. "Admittedly, I would rather live in an orphanage than be his son."

"You would have been living a lie," Lily nodded sharply. "And as much as I caused Regulus' predestined death for his betrayal of the Dark Lord, I couldn't bring myself to manipulate his child. He always wanted you, Izar. When I told him I wasn't pregnant with his child, I saw the heartbreak in his eyes. I couldn't bring myself to having another man raise his child, James especially."

"It amazes me that you try to pass off what you did to him as nothing." Izar looked over at the Healer. The man in crimson robes was still brewing a strong-smelling potion. Lily spoke before he could pin-point what the potion was.

"That's where you're wrong. I have no regret over what I did to Regulus. I hate myself for what I put him through emotionally, but I did it in hopes of turning him away from the Dark and helping us defeat the Dark Lord. I do, however, have regrets over what I did to you."

He turned to her sharply, his lip raised almost animalistically. "You had many chances to come back to get me from the orphanage. You never did. You even looked me in the eye last year at the Ministry and never inclined that you were my true mother. You feigned innocence to my name, to my origins."

"I didn't want to thrust myself into your life, I had no right to know you," she replied heatedly, her voice raising. "I realized I had to live with my faults and I also had to come to terms that I had to let you grow up without me. My guilt for what I did to you was too strong. You would have never accepted me back after so many years, or so I assumed."

Her cheeks were red with passion and anger.

"Then why now?" Izar questioned coldly. "Why the Prophet? Why are you pushing yourself, forcibly, into my life when I don't want you?"

She didn't take time to ponder on her response. Sitting up straighter, she nodded softly. "I woke up from living in the past, from the downward spiral of depression. I may be selfish, but I want to get to know you, I want to protect you, Izar. Originally, I though Regulus was dead. Now that I know he's alive, I will stop at nothing to get you away from his custody and the Dark Lord's influence."

He narrowed his eyes. It was too late. She was too late. He briefly pondered what would have happen if Lily had been the first to approach him before Regulus, before the Dark Lord. Would he fall into the idea of having a mother and side with the Light?

The answer came to him quickly. No, he wouldn't serve the Light.

Izar knew that he would still hate Muggles and the Dark Lord would have eventually recognized him as his mate. There was no mistake that the Dark Arts also called to him and his invented spells were commonly Dark in nature. It wouldn't have mattered if Lily had approached him first. But then again, he had no way to know if that was true.

Charcoal-green eyes looked up at Lily. "Earlier, you claimed you didn't want your husband, James, to raise me because you knew how much Regulus wanted a child. You put me in an orphanage because you couldn't stand manipulating Regulus' child. Now that he's alive, you aren't respecting his wish at having a child, but destroying it. Again."

Lily gave a light sigh, her eyes becoming brighter with each second in Izar's presence. The shadows beneath her eyes seemed to have lightened as well. "It was his memory I was respecting when I put you in the orphanage. If I knew he was still alive, I would have found a way to keep you."

She made it sound like he was a bloody puppy. Izar glowered, biting his tongue as Lily started again. "I don't believe Regulus is… sane," Lily continued. "I also put you in the orphanage to hide you from the other Black relatives. Bellatrix was the one to witness my affair with Regulus. I didn't want them to find you and raise you. They are an unstable family, Izar. Regulus may seem competent now, but he's far from stable."

Izar felt the magic before he saw the man. Above Lily's head, he watched as Riddle materialized from the entrance to the tent. The Dark Lord moved with a lethal grace, setting his sights on Lily sitting before him. Shadows clung to the man's form as he slowly stalked forward, a fierce light to his eyes. Lily was oblivious to the predator behind her.

Izar looked back down at her sitting form, a dark pleasure tightening his stomach at the sight Riddle made.

"You won't be able to win," Izar continued the conversation calmly. "I want to stay with Regulus. He's a good father, one who doesn't take advantage of the one's he cares for."

"He's also unstable," Lily countered. "He's placed you in the Dark Lord's grasp and I won't tolerate him initiating your Cygnus' Curse."

Izar's eyes sharpened and burned. "You know nothing about Cygnus' Curse, don't presume that you do." How dare she? Cygnus' Curse was a Black Family secret. Regulus no doubt told her about it in his years of vulnerability, but she had no right to yield the information back at Izar. She had no right to harbor the secrets of the Black Family when she had no part in it.

Her eyes remained unimpressed by his vehement response. "I know that you have been touched by the Cygnus' Curse. You are the one Cygnus intended to harbor the powers he set out to obtain for himself. I've been studying the Veil for sixteen years, Izar. I know more about Cygnus' Curse than Regulus." She cocked her head to the side, a frown playing her lips. "Regulus has no idea what the Cygnus' Curse is about, let alone what it can do to you."

Uncertainty twisted his gut. He could sense that she was telling the truth. But how could Regulus not know what Cygnus' Curse was? The man appeared to know what it was the day he informed Izar about his past with Lily.

"Lily," a man called out warningly.

Lily turned, catching sight of James Potter. The bespectacled man nodded his head toward Voldemort who stood only a few feet away from Lily. She stood abruptly, a hand to her throat. "How long have you been here?" She demanded toward Riddle.

The man paid her no heed as he swept forward. After all, Lord Voldemort did not answer to anyone.

"Taking your time?" Undersecretary Riddle called out the Healer. The crimson-robed man whirled around, a bit of fright coming off his aura. "The boy has a head injury; surely your work could come along a bit quicker." Riddle sat gracefully on Izar's make-shift cot and grasped the Ravenclaw's jaw.

Izar's stomach clenched hotly at the touch but his face revealed nothing of his excitement. Why did he always need to react so positively to the bastard?

Charcoal-green eyes peered at Lily, noticing her hand had dropped from her neck to her pocket. By the time she would draw her wand, Riddle would have her on her back, screaming in pain. Maybe Lily recognized this, for she kept her wand safely inside her pocket.

Before the Healer could respond to Riddle's inquiry, the tent flap opened once again, admitting Regulus. His eyes were wild as he surveyed the situation. "You sink pretty low," Regulus whispered toward Lily. He stalked past James and approached Lily, ignoring how her husband remained two steps behind him. "Izar has a head injury and you came to manipulate him to your side? I admit, it was a brilliant idea to play the game of 'guess what tent my son is in' before we were held back by Dumbledore."

Regulus' charcoal eyes were chilling, almost appearing similar to liquid mercury. He circled her before standing on the opposite side of Izar's bed. Izar watched as Regulus stared both Lily and James down, a stubborn tick to his jaw.

Riddle tisked, drawing Izar's attention back to him by tugging on his chin. "Look at me, child," the man held up his wand, in which a small light shone from the end.

Izar glowered, knowing what the man was doing. In front of these people, no less. Despite being a cruel and sadistic Dark Lord, Voldemort seemed to take pleasure in nursing Izar back to health, almost as if he took satisfaction in being the one to make Izar feel better and no one else. The young Ravenclaw curled his legs closer to his chest, his eyelids becoming heavy to avoid the light at the end of Riddle's wand.

"Not until you tell me what the outcome of the Task was."

Riddle's dark brown eyes gleamed, as if he were pleased with Izar's terms. The Undersecretary placed his wand down and removed his hand from Izar's chin.

"Manipulating him?" Lily questioned darkly. "I had no intention to tell him lies about what you've already told him," she shot back.

Somehow, Izar blurred out the others in the tent and found himself seeing only Riddle. He would have liked to listen to the others, but Riddle had a way about him that most individuals found hard to look away from. He was suave and charismatic, and entirely overwhelming.

"They sound petty fighting over you when you already belong to me," Riddle mused fondly. His voice was quiet enough for Izar to barely pick up but it would be impossible for the others to hear, especially when they were arguing amongst themselves.

Izar was sure Regulus had a few dry and sarcastic retorts, but for the life of him, Izar couldn't bring his attention away from Riddle.

"Despite my attempts," Izar murmured. "Your head is enlarging each day. I don't know what made you believe I belong to you." It was a pathetic attempt to refuse the man's claim on him when Izar knew well enough that Voldemort did have a very large claim on him. Though, it made Izar stay sane whenever he denied it. He would always be his own person despite who marked him.

"Whatever you'd like to believe," Riddle responded lightly. "As long as you keep that spark in you, I don't care what you spout out from that pretty little mouth of yours." The Undersecretary leaned back, sizing Izar up with critical eyes. "Your second duel," he began. "Was acceptable, though, nothing particularly astonishing."

The man paused, his brown eyes drinking in Izar's features coolly. "I witnessed your first lesson with Professor Black this year and I will truthfully admit that you have come a long way from where you were before. You've only been practicing with him for a few weeks, no? Black is a decent duelist, but his training is for beginners. You will eventually need someone to teach you the finer aspects of the art."

A flush darkened Izar's ears. "I felt confined today," he admitted defensively.

"That's understandable," Riddle murmured. The voices around them grew louder. "Your dueling style relies heavily upon your invented spells and quite a few curses that would be looked down upon from your spectators. You did well, Izar, despite the circumstances."

Izar took the man's words to heart, nodding sharply. He knew his first duel was an embarrassment, yet the Dark Lord seemed to side-step mentioning it. "You seem rather lenient with me, I don't know if I'm happy about that or disappointed." Izar paused, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "Did I make it on the platform for a minute and a half?"

Riddle's lips thinned and he shook his head negatively. "No."

Disappointment rushed through Izar and he leaned back against his pillow, sulking darkly.

Riddle lit his wand again reaching for Izar's chin. "Come now; let me see your eyes."

Izar reluctantly leaned forward, staring at Riddle as the man peered at his eyes. His headache was growing worse with the constant bickering around his bedside. It wasn't so much loud and obnoxious, no, Regulus had more class than to shout and stamp his foot out of anger. They were controlled, but their hostile auras' were starting to affect him. His sensitivity to auras was still ridiculously high, if not growing higher each day.

"What are your symptoms?" Riddle asked briskly, purely professional.

"A bloody hammer is cracking open my skull," Izar breathed. He hesitated, wondering how much he should confine in the man. But from the look Riddle was giving him, Izar broke up. "I also find it difficult to see straight."

Riddle's lips thinned once again and he stood up, furious. His expression was relatively calm, yet his eyes and magic spoke words. The man set his sights on the Healer, considering the man quietly. Before Riddle could make a move, the tent flap opened once again and Dumbledore and Sirius came in.

The room quieted down, thankfully. However, the auras became more hostile and the atmosphere became stiff with tension.

Sirius licked his lips, uncomfortable, before turning to Izar. The man seemed relived to find him conscious. "First place, Izar, congratulations," Sirius interrupted the pressure in the room, flashing a thumbs up toward the ill boy.

Izar narrowed his eyes before turning to look at Riddle, frowning at the man. In response, the Dark Lord shrugged nonchalantly. "You asked if you were on the platform for a minute and a half, and I said no. You never asked if you received first place standing." Obviously, it was payback for the snub Izar had given the man earlier today. "You hit the water at exactly one minute and twenty eight seconds. The judges decided to award you the extra five points."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, his eyebrows high as he surveyed the bodies in the room. "I believe we should allow Mr. Harrison—"

"Mr. Black," Izar corrected softly, not looking at Headmaster Dumbledore.

He could feel the pleased aura coming from Regulus at his words. His father placed a sturdy hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Regulus' contact was much different than Riddle's. Whereas Riddle had a touch that seemed to make Izar restless and hot, Regulus' touch always comforted him.

"Some rest," Dumbledore continued as if Izar hadn't interrupted him.

James and Sirius stood at Dumbledore's back and Lily stood confidently at the Headmaster's side. Her attention was on Izar and Regulus, but she made no outer clue to what she was thinking. Behind her, Sirius' posture was stiff and he refused to meet James' imploring eyes. Instead, Izar's uncle watched the proceedings before him in quiet observation. It looked as if he wanted nothing to do with James Potter or the uncomfortable situation before him. Izar supposed pride was the only reason why Sirius didn't turn his heel and leave right away.

"Some rest?" Regulus repeated Dumbledore's instruction with a scoff. "The same rest you arranged for him when you sent her in here to talk to him? My son has a head injury and you could only think of the gain it could bring to you."

Izar slumped, exhausted. Any other time, he would be sitting up, taking note on the actions and expressions on the wizards' and witch's faces. But he found it difficult to stay awake. The Dark Lord's growing ferocity was reason enough why Izar was still conscious.

"That is how the Headmaster works, Mr. Black," Riddle started out softly, glancing at Regulus before facing forward once more. "After accomplishing his plans for a dysfunctional family reunion, he can now focus on the boy's health. The child's health, after all, is second to his own scheming."

The boy.

Izar glowered angrily at Riddle. The man ignored him in favor of peering at Lily and Dumbledore with a dark promise in his eyes. Izar caught Sirius shifting uncomfortably. The man's face was closed off completely but his aura screamed of uncertainty and confusion. Izar pondered on the man for a moment, wondering what side his uncle was on. Could the man be swayed over to the Dark?

There may be a possibility of attempting to sway the man. However, the Ravenclaw knew Sirius was all Gryffindor; headstrong, stubborn, and he had a sense of righteous. Despite getting along with Regulus, Sirius seemed to be a man of the Light. A true black sheep of the Black family. Izar didn't know if he should respect the man for stepping outside his expectations in life or disappointed that such a powerful wizard would support the Light. Of course, his disappointment with Sirius supporting the Light had nothing to do with Izar's attachment…

Or, at least he was trying to tell himself that.

Dumbledore didn't seem abashed from the man's comment. Instead, he chuckled lightly. "I see no reason to withhold Lily from seeing her son."

James Potter took his attention off Sirius and stepped forward next to his wife. His brown-hazel eyes sought Izar's form on the bed, studying him. Izar was not afraid of the man and stared right back. The Black heir was curious to know what Potter thought about this whole situation. Regulus hinted that James had known about the affair when it happened, or after Izar was born. Yet, the man didn't seem to be outwardly disgusted with Izar.

Instead, his aura seemed to hint at a sense of pity.

Izar narrowed his eyes on Potter, not needing pity from anyone, especially from bloody Potter.

The Ravenclaw shifted, well aware of all the auras around him. Despite it giving him a larger headache, Izar was rather interested in comparing the auras. While the Dark Lord and Dumbledore had the most powerful auras, winning by a long shot, Izar was surprised to note that the others in the room harbored about the same level of magic. Though, Regulus and James seemed to be a few steps above Lily and Sirius in terms of their magical aura. Nevertheless, Izar was not fooled. Power wasn't the only factor that determined how much of a threat a witch or wizard was.

Regulus tightened his hold on Izar's shoulder, almost in a possessive manner when he noticed Potter's observation.

"Just as you saw no reason to withhold treatment from him?" Riddle continued dryly. His mouth curled downward as he turned to look over his shoulder at the Healer. "I realize now that I should have double-checked the applicants for the Healer position. What is your name, boy?" The Undersecretary barked the order, startling Izar.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, Izar watched as dark tendrils of magic stretch from Riddle's aura before curling around the Healer. Just as predicted, the Healer became white with fear. Izar found his stomach tightening in arousal. It seemed so easy, so effortlessly, for Riddle to intimidate any man in his path.

"C-carter McTolley, Mr. Undersecretary, sir," the young Healer stuttered.

Riddle's eyebrows lifted and a sneer marred the man's expression. "We won't be needing your assistance any longer, Healer McTolley. Consider yourself terminated from your position as the Head Healer for this Tournament."

Lily made a noise in the back of her throat. Izar smirked lightly. He may despise the Dark Lord at times, but the man was utterly brilliant when it came to ordering people around with simplicity. And he pulled it off stunningly.

"Mr. Riddle, you are of no position to terminate this young man," Dumbledore spoke up, his face alive with anger. "He has done nothing but his job—,"

Riddle turned back to Dumbledore, his cloak snapping about his heels. "In reality, Headmaster, I do have the standing to dismiss this man from his position. He has done a poor job of stabilizing his patient and I will not stand for our Hogwarts Champion to be interrogated when he has a concussion." Izar noted Riddle's fury licking behind his mask.

Dumbledore drew himself up tall, staring piercingly at Riddle behind his glasses. "Then who do you suggest to tend to Mr. Harrison? Yourself?" Dumbledore seemed amused, possibly because internal Healing was considered to be Light magic. But Izar knew that Riddle was a Master of magic, the man controlled Light magic just as easily as he did Dark. He only preferred the Dark Arts.

"Of course not," Riddle stepped closer to Izar's bed, placing himself in front of it protectively. Izar's eyes began to grow heavy and he slowly shut himself down. His headache was beyond excruciating. "Professor Severus Snape will do just fine."

"Professor Snape is not here, Undersecretary Riddle."

Just as the words left Lily Potter's mouth, the flap of the tent opened once again, issuing a scowling Severus Snape. The Dark Lord must have called him through his Dark Mark. Izar grinned lightly when he watched Snape's scowl deepen when the man noticed the occupants in the tent. Izar struggled to sit up and watch their expressions, but his vision began to blur and his eyelids drooped.

Beside him, Regulus crouched down next to him, a comforting hand still on his shoulder. "You need to stay awake, Izar," Regulus murmured softly. "Wait until Severus sees to you."

Izar moaned softly in disagreement.

His eyes blinked up at Riddle as the man turned to look down at the situation. Suddenly, cool fingers pressed to Izar's forehead and magic seemed to cushion his head and cool his headache. "Sleep child," Riddle murmured as his fingers ghosted across Izar's eyelids, shutting them in the process.

He didn't need to be told twice.

{Death of Today}

Izar slumped against his pillows, sneering grumpily at the far wall of the infirmary. He had been moved from the tent outside to the infirmary a few hours after Professor Snape had tended to his internal wounds. After waking up from the sleep Riddle put him under, Izar had been thrilled to notice his two favorite blondes by his bedside.

"How are you feeling, Izar?" Daphne began.

On his other side, Izar could feel Draco's anger at not being the first one to ask.

This was just what he needed after the events from today. His head still throbbed and his sensitivity to auras hadn't dimmed. And now he had another confrontation ahead of him with Draco and Daphne that he didn't want to deal with just yet.

Thinking on confrontations, he briefly pondered on what had transpired today with Lily Potter.

Izar wouldn't deny the fact that he had been relieved to see Lily's strong personality. If he had seen the weak woman he had in the Department of Mysteries, he would have been disappointed in his father for ever seeing something in that Mudblood. He would have seriously questioned Regulus' sanity for perusing the redhead if Lily had been sniffling and begging witch.

But she had been the opposite. Her remorse for what she did to Izar was true, he knew as such from her aura. She had admitted that she made mistakes in her past when it came to him and his childhood.

Izar had been impressed with her composure and her ability to keep a mask. Yet, his impressiveness with her had ended there. He knew Lily was controlled mindlessly by Dumbledore. Maybe she hadn't been controlled in school. Maybe she had been a witch who saw shades of grey and had understood the darker side to magic. But as soon as she stepped foot in Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, her independence had diminished completely.

She was a mere servant to Dumbledore's gentle and smooth manipulations. Izar always saw Dumbledore for being a dangerous manipulator with his gentle demeanor. The man had an air about him that made others want to approach him with their problems and troubles. They wanted him to protect them. But his protection came at a price.

If Lily is nothing but a servant to Dumbledore, than what are you to Voldemort? What is the difference between you and her?

Izar's lips thinned. He may be a follower to Voldemort, but Izar had kept his independence after his servitude. He didn't allow the Mark on his arm to stop him from making his own choices, his own decisions, and his own opinions. Lily had allowed Dumbledore to pull her strings. She had allowed him to manipulate her.

Izar cut his strings from Voldemort's grasp the very first day they met. He had set their relationship to one as equality- or- as equal as it could be between them. There would never be a solid equal standing between the two, but at least Izar had the ability to come up with his own assumption.

He was nothing like Lily.

But what if it had been her own choice to go after Regulus like that? What if Dumbledore hadn't manipulated her?

It didn't matter. Izar would still despise her for what she did to Regulus. No matter if she had apologized to Izar about abandoning him, she had admitted she felt no regret for what she had done to Regulus. No man deserves that, Izar's father did not deserve that.

Over winter holidays, Voldemort had teased Izar about having a complex of protecting the people he cared for. Izar had denied it then, but looking back at the Dark Lord's observation, he realized the man had been correct. It goaded him to admit it, but Izar did care for his father. Having such an emotional attachment was a bit frightening, especially when he vowed he never wanted to have such an influential person in his life.

There was no turning back now. Regulus needed Izar and Izar needed Regulus.

"Izar?" Daphne asked, concern lacing her tone with Izar's continued silence.

His sneer deepened. Did he care for Daphne? When she had been attacked at the Yule Ball, Izar claimed he had cared for her. Now that she was healthy and stable, Izar had a clear mind to really see if he held her in high regard. Thinking on it briefly, he knew there was a small attachment he had for her, but it wasn't as strong as the one he shared with Regulus.

And Voldemort?

Izar blanched at the stray thought, turning his mind elsewhere before he could answer that.

"I'm sorry," Izar spoke dryly. "I didn't realize you were speaking to me again." Next to him, Draco snorted.

Daphne flushed and lowered her eyes. "I suppose I should apologize for avoiding you on the train and in classes." Mossy green eyes, similar to Lily Potter's, looked across the bed at Draco. She eyed him distastefully before raising her chin and meeting Izar's eyes. "I was just angry that you didn't tell me you were a Black and…" she trailed off again, glancing at Draco.

"You were angry that my father declined the betrothal." Izar guessed, a dull throb erupting behind his eyes. His vision had cleared considerably since Professor Snape had attended to him, but he still had a slight headache and his fever had yet to disappear. But he had those symptoms before the concussion, why should they have gone?

She seemed uncomfortable to continue the line of conversation, but she sensed Izar's reluctance to engage in it himself. "I…"

Daphne was never lost for words.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Could you please leave us, Draco?" No response was heard from the boy next to him. Izar removed his fingers from his face and turned to look at stormy grey eyes. "Malfoy—,"

"Why should I?" Draco sat up from his chair, crossing his arms over his chest like a stubborn child.

Izar leaned forward, his eyes bright. "I have no time for children." He knew it was a low blow, especially when he knew Draco constantly tried to prove to his father that he wasn't a child any longer. Izar supposed it was also salt to the wound he had inflicted during winter holidays when he claimed Draco wouldn't be able to handle a relationship with him. The boy tried to prove himself by playing mind games with Izar on the train to Hogwarts.

Draco's face closed off and he stood. "I'm glad to see you're doing alright," the boy whispered before giving a sharp nod and turning his heel.

Issuing a quiet sigh, Izar watched as the boy left the infirmary. "I don't want to be in an arranged marriage with you, Daphne." He looked at her, finding that her tension had obliviated considerably now that Draco was gone. "I have no romantic feelings for you."

He could have softened up his rejection, he supposed. But he was in no way eager to have this conversation. Didn't he just have the same conversation with Draco not too long ago? Not only was Izar turning them down because he felt nothing for them, but he was also protecting them from Voldemort. The man claimed he didn't get jealous over "hormonal teenaged boys and women", but Izar knew the Dark Lord could be sadistic and possessive.

As much as they grated on his nerves, he didn't want to see the Dark Lord inflicting any harm.

There was that protective complex again…

"I don't have any romantic feelings for you either, Izar," Daphne replied softly, surprising Izar. "Don't get me wrong, you're handsome, incredibly handsome, and you're intelligent and powerful. I admire your beauty and find myself wanting to be as close to you as possible."

Izar lifted an eyebrow.

"I know it sounds like I have feelings for you, but I don't. Not sexual," she claimed. "You've been a good friend to me. You may be a sarcastic bastard at times, most the time, but you're true. And you understand me more than anyone else." She sniffed, raising her shoulders. "You know that I strive to be independent and successful."

"I do," Izar conceded. "You're a remarkable witch, Daphne. I know you'll go far." She could go even further if she actually picked up a book as well…

"That's why I want to arrange a marriage with you."

Izar blinked, frowning at her train of thought. "Enlighten me," he spoke stiffly.

She shifted in her chair, trying to get as much height as she could. "My father wants to assign me a betrothed by the time I graduate. That's in a year, Izar. I can't imagine being married off to the Goyle family or the Crabbe family or any other male. With you, I know we can be legally married, but it would be more of a friendship than anything."

His headache grew worse. "Daphne…" he started calmly.

"We don't even have to touch each other, Izar," she continued as if she knew he was getting ready to reject her. "I understand you enjoy your privacy and you understand my need for independence. With any other man, I would feel bound and trapped in my own home. He wouldn't let me go off by myself to political parties or allow me to leave the manor for a long period of time. He'd want me to be a docile bitch who bares his children."

Tear welled in her eyes and she gave a light sob.

Izar froze.

He was never good with this type of thing… this comforting thing. Crying girls, especially, was something he had no experience with. He was uncomfortable as he reached over and patted her hand. "That's not always true, Daphne."

"Of course it is," she growled, her eyes flashing. Tears were absent in her eyes.

He removed his hand abruptly, a bit startled at her sudden shift of mood. He heard boys always complaining at how easily girls shifted moods. Izar never believed he would have to experience that, but it was staring him in the face now. But then again, Voldemort was rather prone to quick mood changes as well.

"Pure-blood males are always like that. They don't believe woman have a right to run the household, to have their own minds and opinions. Don't get me wrong, Izar, I want children eventually, but on my own terms and at my own time."

"I don't want children," he blurted out hotly. He blinked, wondering just who was the emotional female before he cleared his throat. "I mean, I'm not ready to think about children right now." He was fifteen. "Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy aren't like that," he mused as he remembered the beautiful Narcissa Malfoy. "Narcissa is a very poised and independent witch…"

"And Lucius controls her," Daphne replied sharply. "She tries not to let it show, but she's just as controlled as the other women. She can just carry his control gracefully. I want to be like Blaise Zabini's mother and Kristine Steinar. Both women are independent."

Izar sat against his pillows, musing over Daphne's words. He had to search his mind to remember who Kristine Steinar was, but it came to him quickly. She was Lukas' mother, the very same woman he had seen at the Yule Ball. He remembered Daphne telling him Kristine had poisoned Bjørn Steinar's original fiancé in order to get Bjørn's hand. And Blaise's mother… well… she went through her seventh husband a few years ago.

Charcoal-green eyes looked up at Daphne seriously. "If I marry you, Daphne, are you planning on poisoning me to death? Because the hints you're trying to lay down aren't very subtle."

She slapped his arm, a crimson stain to her cheeks. A light smile danced across her lips. "You know what I mean, Izar. Those women are dangerous and absolutely stunning with their sovereignty."

He pondered on Daphne. Although Izar wasn't well educated on pure-blood marriages, he didn't believe all of the males were as dominating as Daphne claimed them to be. He wondered if Daphne's fear of marrying was due to her father's treatment of her mother or just something she picked up on herself. True fear came from Daphne when she spoke of being bound in marriage with an unknown male.

Izar understood her reasons for wanting to marry him, but… it couldn't happen.

She must have caught on his thoughts, for she leaned forward, grasping at Izar's hand. Her eyes were desperate. "We may have to live in the same house, but you can have all the lovers you want, Izar. You don't even have to look at me. You don't even have to touch me."

He felt pity for her, a deep sense of sorrow in his stomach as he reached forward and touched her cheek. "Are you really willing to put yourself through that harsh of an isolation just to avoid getting married, Daphne?"

Her eyes were swimming in tears again, but her jaw was locked stubbornly. "I would do anything."

He thought back to Daphne and her romantic relationships. Although Daphne always appreciated handsome men, and boldly commented on them, she had never once had a boyfriend or tried to initiate a relationship. Daphne was a stunning witch; surely a boy would have approached her before. But now he saw that it was Daphne's intentions to remain single. Looking into her emotional gaze, he wondered how far her emotional scars were. Did she not think herself worthy of a decent marriage? Did her father abuse her mother? Did her father abuse her?

"Does your father hurt you, Daphne?" he questioned softly, his palm still cupping her cheek.

Her eyes widened and her aura gave a pulse of shock. "No," she shook her head, pulling away from Izar. "Of course he doesn't." She swallowed thickly, reaching out to clutch at Izar's shirt. "You're my best friend, Izar. I trust you…"

She avoided the topic.

He bowed his head. He was torn. He knew if he suggested that she just not marry and remain single, she would comeback with a silly pure-blood tradition.

He also understood her intentions. She didn't love him, but she trusted him. She wanted to be legally married to him, but they would still remain as friends underneath their home and be free to be with others.

But Voldemort would never see it as that…

"I can't, Daphne," he looked up at her. Her expression mirrored the darkening of her aura. "You wouldn't understand my reasons if I told you. I—,"

Reaching forward, she placed a finger to his mouth. She stood up, looking just as graceful as ever. "Just promise me you'll think about it, Izar. Please."

Even if she removed her fingers, he couldn't respond. He just nodded. She nodded back, offering him a smile before she slowly left the infirmary.

He sat back against the pillows, exhausted.


{Notes} Things will go rather quickly from here. I mean, quick until we get to the end of the school year- not the end of the story. The Third Task will be approaching in a few chapters...

Thanks so much for reading ;)