Author's note: Many many thanks to my dear beta TheSecretUchiha for correcting yet another chapter! Also, many thanks to all of you who will decide to click on that Submit button at the end of this page and send me a review! :D
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Confrontation, part II
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London, Grimmauld Place 12
26thDecember 2000, 03:06
"Harry! Have you lost your mind? How could you ask You-Know-Who for a help … it's a miracle you haven't been killed!"
Harry had probably never seen Arthur so upset. He apparently didn't find the information about the Minister's highest advisor as important as the fact that he had spent some time alone with the Dark Lord. He watched him shake his head and stride back and forth and finally towards him, kneeling down beside Hermione, who was still healing his injuries and performing some quick check up spells.
"If I didn't do that, Sheena would die...," he said quietly, looking away from Mr. Weasley's strict face.
"Harry!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed and her soft brown eyes grew wide in horror. "You've been tortured!"
Oh, right. Of course she was going to find it out.
"Yeah, but I...," he said before she stopped him again.
"Why haven't you told us?" she inquired, urgency and desperation seeping from her voice.
"Well, because..."
"Did You-Know-Who do this to you? Oh, what a stupid question – of course it was him. What did he want to know? What did you tell him, Harry?" Mr. Weasley butted in.
"Look, I didn't..."
"Is he coming here? Is the Order in danger?"
"NO!" Harry finally shouted out, halting the flow of questions at once.
"I didn't tell him anything! He didn't even ask any questions! He tortured me because he caught me snooping in his Pensieve!"
If Harry wasn't so stressed out, he might find it funny how Hermione and Arthur simultaneously blinked and sat back on their heels.
"You did ... what?" Hermione whispered quietly.
Harry glanced aside to avoid her stare, catching Angelina's disbelieving expression and Ron's pallid face briefly. His best friend appeared to be terrified and Harry could only hope that he was frightened for him. Maybe Ron wanted to reconcile. Harry wanted to apologize too, though he had no idea how to do that. So he looked back at Hermione who still regarded him incredulously. It made him feel pretty silly.
"Don't look at me like that," he said. "I know it was a stupid thing to do."
"Stupid? STUPID? Harry, it was a suicidal thing to do, are you aware of THAT?"
"Harry … is there any reason why he let you live?" Arthur asked quietly.
"He certainly must have had one," Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I personally think that he just didn't want to do it himself – just in case that something went wrong again. He rather sent me back, hoping that either you or Negura will kill me for him. It's the only explanation which makes any sense."
When he said it aloud, he realized that it was likely to be a truth. It was something Voldemort would do. He wanted him dead after all. He repeated this over and over.
Oddly, Harry's heart ached with the thought of Voldemort's cruel, unchanging hatred. The feelings of inexplicable sadness grew stronger and made him despise himself for being so sensitive. How could Dumbledore ever consider this to be his greatest strength? It was only making him vulnerable.
Hermione spoke again, pulling him out of his muse.
"We are not going to hurt you or … k... kill you Harry, how could you even think of something so … horrible?" she whispered, aghast.
"It's not my idea, it's his," he replied blankly. "He wouldn't hesitate a second to kill someone he considers a traitor. He thinks that the same applies to you as well."
"But you didn't betray us," Arthur said sternly, almost questioningly.
"I would never betray you," Harry whispered. "You know that I'd rather die." His eyes met Ron's briefly, but only for a second before looking away.
Mr. Weasley was still shaking his head, slowly overcoming his flurry.
"I still don't understand it, Harry. How could it even occur to you to contact him?-! We've got dozens of capable healers at St. Mungo's. They could easily save that snake too. I can't believe you really went … by Merlin's beard, Hermione's right, it was suicidal!"
Harry found it rather depressing to hear them talk about it over and over again. Therefore, he asked something which would hopefully divert Mr. Weasley's attention.
"Where's the rest of the Order?"
Said diversion worked surprisingly well. Arthur stopped muttering for himself and looked at him.
"Probably still searching for you. They should be back any time soon. We have to deal with that situation in the Ministry as quickly as possible."
"Yeah, that's right, because we've got a huge problem there," Harry nodded and finally found strength to rise up from the floor.
"You shouldn't get up, Harry," Hermione scolded him, but he just shook his head.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not...!"
"Listen, this is more important," he said. "The memory which I saw in Riddle's Pensieve changes everything. That guy who works for Umbridge, the Leader or whatever he calls himself is a vampire! He's the one who's responsible for all those attacks."
To Harry's great surprise Hermione looked at him and nodded.
"Yes, we know, Harry."
Her soft, calm statement made his chin drop.
"H … how can you possibly know this?"
Draco, who was until that moment silent, snorted and heavily leaned against the backrest.
"Who do you think murdered my father, Potter?"
His sneer cost Harry all his willpower not to hurl something at him. How could he say something like that with such a calm face? Could he be lying about that?
"Lucius Malfoy … is dead?" he said quietly, irritated and disbelieving all at once.
"Weren't you listening to that mudblood when she told you that?-!" Draco blustered out and jumped from the chair. That was the reaction Harry was waiting for. Three wands immediately shot up, pointed directly into the Death Eater's furious face.
"Sit down, Malfoy. And apologize!" Ron barked.
"Dream on, Weasley," the young Malfoy sneered, but slowly sagged down.
"Okay," Harry said and raised his hands. "If I understand this correctly, you went to the Ministry tonight and talked with the Leader. And he told you that it was he who killed the older Malfoy and then he just let you go."
It sounded pretty absurd to Harry's ears.
"We went to the Ministry, that's true," Hermione replied. "We also talked to him as we wanted to know where we can find you. It was he who told us that you were … well, you know where..."
Ron snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. Harry just glanced at him and turned back to Hermione.
"And then Lucius Malfoy came into the Leader's office..."
Harry stopped her in the middle of a sentence.
"But I thought he was dead!"
"Well, yes he was dead … or undead, more specifically," Hermione added and rubbed her neck distractedly. "We didn't know the truth about him then; at least not until he showed us his teeth."
Ron growled under his breath. "He looked at me as if I were just a snack on legs!"
"And then the Leader told you the truth about what happened?" Harry inquired, looking from Ron to Hermione and back. "That he was behind this?"
"Of course not. He told us that he participated in some negotiations between the Ministry and vampires," Hermione shook her head. "I could tell he lied. Later, Draco confirmed my suspicion. Honestly, I don't even know how we pulled through without getting hurt - or something worse."
Harry sighed in relief.
"And you say that I'm lucky. Not half as much as you are when you managed to escape so easily!"
"Yeah, but we don't know anything about Percy!" Ron retorted, his voice hard. "He had decided to stay with them! Hermione thinks that he was cursed. She said that it would be unavailing to try to convince him to go with us and dangerous to force him. But he is there all alone - among them!"
Harry idly gulped.
"I didn't know that," he whispered.
"No, you didn't, right?"
Ron was once again becoming rather blunt.
"If you didn't leave us tonight again, none of that would happen."
"RONALD!" Hermione cried out.
Harry felt as if Ron slapped again. At that moment Mr. Weasley joined the discussion with his firm voice and squeezed Harry's shoulder to show support.
"You surely know, my son, that tonight's events are NOT Harry's fault," he said. Harry, however, took a deep breath and shook his head.
"No, Mr. Weasley. Ron's right. I shouldn't have left."
"Harry, stop blaming yourself for everything. Every one of us is fully responsible for our actions. And you Ron – stop trying to find someone to hold a grudge against!"
When Ron didn't say anything, Arthur turned back to Harry.
"I think we should stop talking about it for now," he said quietly.
Harry kept staring at the ground. Before the growing uneasiness could poison the atmosphere even more than it already was, Harry decided to talk to Draco and ask him how he had managed to stay alive in the Ministry in Negura's presence for so long. Maybe he would be able to find a way to help Percy as he couldn't do anything else for him at the moment. He looked at the young Death Eater who still sat on the same spot, silent, pale, unmoving and … unguarded.
"Where's Angelina?" Harry blurted out.
Everyone's attention immediately turned to Draco, who remained strangely unresponsive. His grey, widely opened eyes stared into a dark hallway before him, his pale lips trembling as he breathed fast in short gasps.
"Maybe … maybe she just needed to go to the bathroom," Hermione suggested hesitantly.
"Why wouldn't she say a word?" Arthur asked, slowly pulling out his wand again. "Why would she leave Malfoy without direct supervision?"
Mr. Weasley's insistent questions together with a heavy realization of Angelina's unexplainable absence changed the mood drastically. The air was suddenly filled with trepidation and the room became very quiet. Maybe it was just Harry's imagination, but it also looked darker than before. He took a deep breath and squeezed the wand in his slightly sweaty palm. Then he approached his fair-haired enemy.
"Where did she go, Malfoy?" he asked sternly, keeping control over his voice. "You were the last one who saw her, right? Tell me, where did she go?-!"
Draco's pale lips opened and closed, his eyes not leaving the long, dark hallway for a second. Harry felt strong uneasiness growing inside him. He turned his head to follow Malfoy's stare, but he didn't see anything through the thick darkness there.
When did the gas lamps burn out?
Staring into that dark space was like looking into an abyss – and the abyss staring back.
Suddenly a freezing tingling ran along Harry's spine. The soft light coming from the chandelier above him weakened at a sudden waft of cold air running through the house. Something moved in a long shadow behind the door frame … but his eyes could be deluding him...Harry was nearly overpowered by an urgent desire to close the door and never open it again. He fought hard with that uncontrollable, primitive fear. One glance at his friends told him that they were just as frightened as he was.
"Who's there?" he finally found the courage to ask.
"Angelina?" he called, taking a short step towards the dark hallway. "Is that you?"
"Harry, no...," Hermione breathed out, but Harry didn't looked at her, his eyes were glued to the opened door before him.
Then Draco suddenly stuttered out.
"We're all dead … we're all dead … he's here, I know he's HERE!"
"Shut up Malfoy!" Harry shouted back, raising his wand.
"Angelina if that is you, speak to me right now!"
The deathly silence was the only answer. It was giving him goose bumps.
"Just say something...," he whispered. By the corner of his eye he noticed that Mr. Weasley slowly came to take his place by his right side. He needed that encouragement to take another step towards the door. His heart hammered in his chest; the sound of it was so loud that he had problems hearing anything over that rhythmic beating. He licked drops of sweat from his upper lip.
"Angelina...," he breathed out.
Finally the shadow moved again, approaching them. Harry felt his stomach jump up and down, giving him nausea. It had to be some form of subconscious warning telling him that he was in danger. As if he didn't know.
He kept very still, trying to recognize the approaching figure first. As soon as he identified his dark skinned friend, he began to realize that something was very wrong with her. There was – Harry's breath halted on the way out of his lungs – blood all over her throat and her scared eyes blindly gazed at some unspecified spot in space.
She took another step closer, slowly revealing the creature that caused her injury. A tall, sickly pale vampire stood behind her, holding her bleeding neck, smirking coldly at them.
The recognition multiplied Harry's shock and horror a hundred times.
"Oh God!" Hermione cried out while Ron loudly cursed.
Harry didn't listen to them. His eyes remained transfixed to that dark clad person who was holding Angelina's throat.
"Poor girl, she couldn't answer you," said a deep, melodic voice and a pair of evil navy-blue eyes met Harry's green ones. "I had to seal her lips so she wouldn't cry."
"Negura…," Harry hissed virulently, revulsion and fear threatening to win over his self-control. Negura was in his house, attacking his friends – nothing could possibly be worse than that. Nothing, probably not even Voldemort with a gang of his Death Eaters as an escort. He felt the acid coming up from his stomach into his mouth. Everything turned red as rage joined his fear and began to take over his thinking.
"I realize how very impolite it was to act the way I did, but I grew tired of waiting in a corner..."
The Leader's cruel lips rose to form a mockery of a smile.
A mad fury shook Harry's whole being.
"LET GO OF HER OR I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" he finally roared, gripping his wand. If only Angelina didn't stand in the way of his curse! He couldn't find an angle where she wouldn't be hit as well.
"You're so entertaining, Harry," Negura chuckled and licked small droplets of blood from his lips and fingertips.
"One would have thought that Voldemort told you that you can't do that."
Harry gritted his teeth, the wand in his hand visibly shaking.
"Your negligible skills cannot cause me any harm."
His cold eyes stabbed Mr. Weasley for a second. "And the same goes for your friends as well."
Though Harry was paying full attention to the vampire in front of him, he also noticed that Arthur very slowly moved sideways. Whatever plan he had, Harry was going to support him by distracting Negura as much as possible.
"How could you get inside?" he growled, his voice raspy. "This place is protected by Fidelius Charm!"
Negura's perfect lips revealed more of his alarmingly white teeth.
"Oh, Harry. This only shows how little your wizarding world knows about us. According to your opinion we represent the worst kind of night creatures. We keep the Aurors busy in times when no dark lord is trying to take over the world. Your aim is to destroy us; that's all you care about, am I right? You're not interested in the fact that we might also have some powers and secrets. This is a typical example of human finitude – I'm so used to seeing it all the time. "
Harry pressed his lips together, resisting the urge to look at Arthur. He couldn't give away his tactic. He also wished to know what Ron and Hermione were doing, but he couldn't look behind himself now, so he unblinkingly held that freak's gaze.
"Fidelus Charm is in fact a soul magic," Negura continued. "The secret is transferred from the soul of the Secret-Keeper to another person's soul. Vampires do not have souls, Harry. We are above this low form of magic. We can enter whatever habitation we want – we just need an invitation from whomever is inside."
"I don't recall anyone inviting you here," Harry said coldly, though panic was causing his chest to constrict.
Negura laughed softly, melodically and turned to look at young Malfoy, who was nearly as pale as the vampire.
"And that's where you're wrong, my dear boy. It was my precious godson who invited me here, right Draco?"
After a moment of horrified silence Harry growled in fury. But deep inside, the knot in his stomach tightened.
"Godson!" he spat and glanced at Ron's and Hermione's ashen faces and then back at Draco. So that was what protected him from a certain death...
"Malfoy," he whispered. "I swear this is the last straw..."
"No need to be mad at him, Harry," the Leader whispered, the grin slowly fading from his lips. "He didn't know about my plan. I forgot to mention that I was coming along. Obviously, taking me inside without him knowing about it is still an acceptable form of invitation."
Harry whirled back, droplets of sweat falling from his chin at the sudden move.
"But WHY? What do you want from us?-!"
Negura pressed the tip of his tongue to his upper lip for a moment and then he spoke.
"Aside the obvious, which is your delicious blood, there is indeed something else I require. I was robbed of something precious a few days ago. I had been desperately searching for the thief who stole it and here I found her at last."
His cold eyes left Harry and focused on his muggle born friend. Harry heard her gasp under the intensity of his stare and his throat painfully narrowed.
"Where is the last page from Voldemort's old diary, Hermione?" Negura whispered. "It's mine and I want it back."
"LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS, YOU MONSTER!" Ron screamed, pushing his girlfriend behind himself to give her more protection.
Negura's smirk grew colder and colder, just like Angelina's body in his arms. He sucked in her smell and licked his lip slowly.
"Well, well. I'm getting tired of playing these games with you. You know too much. That's why all of you have to die – except for you Draco." His eyes lashed at the young man, who was trying to hide in the furthest corner of the room. "You'll be coming back with me and we will talk about this."
Harry's panic-stricken heart began to malfunction from the terror Negura's words awakened in him. What to do now?-! Escape was the only chance they had, he realized. Still it was very unlikely that all of them would make it. Someone had to hold Negura back for those few necessary seconds they needed to jump out of window and Apparate away. He made a quick decision.
He was going to do that.
However, Arthur didn't seem to share his thoughts. Harry bit his lip hardly, wondering how he was supposed to stop him without warning the vampire.
The Leader's clasp on Angelina's throat unexpectedly slackened and her body slowly slumped to the ground. He flexed his long fingers, watching them curiously for a moment before speaking with that soft, deep voice again.
"Ron Weasley. Tell your dear father not to do what he intends to, otherwise I will be forced to deal with him first."
Harry couldn't stand it anymore. Of course he noticed that Arthur was planning to stab Negura's heart with a wooden stake which he was hiding behind his back. Harry cursed himself for missing a chance to tell him that it wasn't going to work. He witnessed Voldemort performing similar onslaught on him and yet Negura was still here, unharmed and powerful as ever.
There was probably only one solution giving Mr. Weasley a chance. He'll have to attack Negura at the same moment as Arthur. Not even a vampire should be able to deflect two assaults at once.
His plan was however brought to an abrupt end the moment the Leader decided to lunge at Mr. Weasley first. The movement was so fast that Harry had serious trouble following it. He only saw Arthur's body fly across the room and collide with the opposite wall noisily. Ron screamed something unintelligible, sending a curse in Negura's direction, which was easily fended off, breaking a hole in the wall. Hermione cried out too and Harry attacked.
"Sectum Sempr...!"
Cold fingers squeezed his larynx, cutting off his source of oxygen and raising him from the floor. His legs flailed aimlessly in the air, his mouth opened widely as he unsuccessfully tried to breathe.
"Too slow."
With all pleasantry gone, Negura's voice was just as cruel as Voldemort's. Harry was forcefully thrown against the table, which collapsed under the impact. He hit his head hard; enough to lose consciousness for several seconds. When he came back, a blinding pain seized his thorax. He coughed up blood from his bitten tongue and felt for his broken ribs. He suppressed the soreness with his mighty willpower and forced himself to get up. The sight before him was truly horrific. When Voldemort murdered, he always did it without a single drop of blood being spilled, as if he despised the sight of it. Negura on the other hand apparently loved the slaughter. He didn't kill immediately; he made them all bleed first.
"RON!" Harry yelled as he saw his friend twist in pain on the floor, trying to get up and failing. He wanted to help Hermione, who was pressed against wall and her clothes were torn away from her as the monster searched for what she took from him.
What a horrible price was paid for a little piece of meaningless paper.
"Hermione...," Ron whispered and his and Harry's eyes met for a second. Harry dimly realized that his friend was badly hurt, on brink of losing consciousness, yet his face still held so many emotions, pleading him wordlessly.
Save her.
Something snapped in Harry's head. He bent down, taking a long sharp splinter from the broken table. Then his eyes slowly returned to Negura, who laughed victoriously as he found the creased letter he was looking for in Hermione's jeans.
"Finally...," he whispered, leaning down to her, baring his long white teeth, smelling her soft skin.
Hermione's frightened scream created an impulse which made Harry move. Gripping the splinter hard enough to hurt himself, he overcame the distance between them in three long leaps and just before Negura's teeth could bite into Hermione's bare neck, he plunged the chip of wood into the monster's heart.
The sound of the tearing flesh was awful. Much worse than Harry imagined it would be. It made him recall the days when he had wondered how many people he killed during the Second War. He knew that there were some, especially after that tremendous stampede from Privet Drive, but he had never been forced to face it the way he was now.
He used to ponder about whether he was even capable of killing someone. It was understandable that he needed to give it some though when the Prophecy indicated that he'd either become a murderer or a victim.
Now he knew the answer. He knew it as he forced the splinter deeper into Negura's chest.
The Leader screamed in a wild rage, turning to him, his eyes blazing, his fangs bared and glistering.
"Leave my … friends … alone!" Harry forced out of his painfully constricted throat. As a response a wand suddenly appeared in the Dragomir's palm and before Harry knew it, he was slammed against the floor again. The pain in his chest multiplied, steadily becoming more and more insufferable. But it was a huge satisfaction to see Negura on his knees, growling and trying to reach for the offending object and pull it out of his chest.
Harry coughed again, a seizure of agony running through him, making his fingers curl and legs jerk. His injury hurt, almost as badly as the Cruciatus curse. He forced himself to look at Hermione, who seemed to be the only one relatively unharmed. She sat on the floor, her back propped against the wall and her head lolling over her chest. She probably fainted. Ron was also unmoving and Harry desperately hoped that he was still breathing. He didn't know how Arthur or Angelina were but he feared the worst. And he couldn't help anyone of them - he couldn't even stand up by himself. Maybe Draco could do something … but where the hell was that little cowardly Death Eater?
"My, my … what an unexpected predicament you're in, my Leader."
Harry's head spun towards the door again. His hopes to see someone from the Order died that instant. Everything, absolutely everything, was hopeless now, because another vampire stood at the entrance.
Lucius Malfoy smirked slyly and adjusted his tight collar.
"May I offer you my assistance, Dragomir?" he asked mockingly, threading his hand through his long, blond hair.
Ferocious growl coming from Negura's mouth was the only answer he received. But he understood it and smirked again.
"But of course, My Leader." He stepped closer to Negura, grasped the splinter and ripped it out of the other vampire's chest. Dragomir roared in pain, his body cracked in spasms before falling heavily on the floor. And then, after what seemed to be an endless minute of heavy silence he spoke again.
"Raise me up."
"Certainly," Lucius leered. "May I ask an impertinent question, My Leader? Was it Potter who caused this to you? I would bet my new coat that it was him."
Negura, who was once again on his feet, smoothed his robes and replied coldly.
"You're correct, Lucius. It was a very impertinent question to ask and it was indeed Harry Potter who dared to attack me so foolishly."
"So, are you going to kill him?" the older Malfoy asked with an unconcealed concern.
"Of course I am," Negura hissed back, his eyes narrowing. "But tell me first how did you get inside. I didn't invite the others yet."
"Oh, that was very simple. When I was just a boy, my family often visited Mrs. Black's … house. I wasn't sure whether it was going work, especially since she's been dead for some time, but it seems that her ghost still resides in these walls. I was allowed to enter without any problems. I admit that I'm really starting to enjoy being a vampire."
Negura only snorted at that. "I told you so, remember?"
"Vaguely."
"Good, now step out of my way."
Harry, who was trying to recover as much as possible during their conversation, realized that he was out of time. Negura was probably going to kill him now. What an absurd development. He always thought that Voldemort would be the one to murder him in the end.
"Certainly, My Leader. I only wonder whether I may get a reward for helping you."
"Sure, Lucius. Take whomever you want, but Potter's mine."
Harry closed his eyes, recalling Voldemort's soft, hissing voice. 'Watch your neck, boy.' He forced back a chuckle. Riddle was going to be disappointed that he failed him. Thinking of it, Voldemort would be the only person powerful enough to stop Negura and Malfoy now. However, the base of the Order was greatly protected, he wouldn't be able to find this place, even in a hundred years, not to mention he had to be looking for it first. Also, Harry was deeply bothered by his sudden need to solve all of his problems with his archenemy's helping hand. His reputation was in the same danger as he was, he realized.
"I want my son," Lucius whispered into the silence.
Harry's eyes flew open in surprise. He had completely forgotten what Negura and Lucius were discussing. Now he even turned his head to look at the vampires.
Negura snorted, his grimace said everything Harry needed to know.
"Not an option," he hissed.
"But..."
"No, you would kill him and that's unacceptable at the moment."
"I'll be careful..."
"I said no!"
"My Leader, I swear..."
"SILENCE!"
Negura's nostrils widened as he took in a short breath. His face was a display of exasperation.
"I admit that Draco must be punished. I won't hold you back Lucius, but if you kill him I swear that I'm going to rip off your head. If you're willing to take the risk, just go ahead and STOP BOTHERING ME!"
Lucius bowed slightly, atrocious grin appearing on his face.
"Yes, My Leader."
A second later Harry heard the shocked, disbelieving cry of poor Draco Malfoy in the distance. He certainly heard their dialogue too. Harry, however, had much more serious problems to deal with, because Negura once again gave him his full attention. The fear of dying and becoming a vampire was much worse than any pain he felt. He imagined himself attacking his helpless friends and he almost vomited. He needed to stop Negura somehow.
"Not so brave now, Harry. Are you?" Dragomir smirked, noticing his fright. Harry tried to hide his fear as he knew that terror turned vampires wild. The problem was that blood was an even greater allurement and as he was presently bleeding in several places of his body, proper self-control was hardly going to save him.
But he had to try something.
Negura meanwhile straddled him, licking his lips eagerly.
"You're a dark lord hunter, right?" Harry asked quickly. "Then why are you killing people who live for the same purpose?"
Dragomir halted for a moment and rubbed his chin.
"My existence must remain secret, Harry," he said almost apologetically. "That's how I made it through the centuries. That's how I successfully brought down so many powerful dark lords in the past."
Harry looked away from him, gritting his teeth. The fact that Voldemort knew the truth about him for about forty years didn't seem to matter. Negura was just another hypocrite.
The vampire above him smiled coldly as if he heard his thoughts.
"Do you know the old saying about omelets?"
Harry looked up, surprised. Saying about what?
"That you cannot make them without breaking eggs?" Negura clarified and leaned down, regarding his victim closely.
"A great truth is hidden in these words. You always have to sacrifice something in order to gain something else."
"It doesn't have to be that way," Harry whispered.
"Of course it does. You have to die; it's a necessary sacrifice to serve my purpose. Though when we are discussing it, I'm surprised that the Dark Lord didn't warn you before. I mean about trying to discover my secrets. Didn't he tell you that everyone who learns the truth about me is condemned to die?"
Harry felt another strong shiver running down his spine. Voldemort indeed told him that, back at Crowborough. Harry had successfully managed to forget it.
"Hmm... What a pity - for you and your friends. I would have though he would take much better care of you, his personal whore. Nah, sooner or later you're going to die anyway..."
Harry turned purple as another fit of anger overpowered him.
"I'M NOT...!"
Negura closed the remaining distance and pressed his cold nose against Harry's hot cheek.
"You wanted to know the real reason he let you live, didn't you?" he whispered mockingly, while somewhere close Draco desperately screamed, sending curses at his father.
"That's all what he wants from you. And you can bet I know his quirks good enough to be sure about that. No need to worry, though. Soon you'll be working for me – if I decide to keep you, of course."
Draco screamed again, begging his father to stop whatever he was doing. Despite his own dreadful situation, Harry felt really sorry for him. Being hunted by a monster that looked just like his dad was something not even Draco deserved.
Harry's mind was racing now. He briefly wondered what happened to his wand. He had lost it after he hit his head against the table. If he tried to summon it like Voldemort...
"Oh yes, I will keep you," Negura spoke softly again, breaking into his muse. "It'll make him mad that the famous Harry Potter is immortal and working for me."
A cold hand seized his chin, turning his head aside, revealing his neck.
"Perfect," he whispered and his cold lips touched Harry's face.
The feeling of his upcoming doom made any thinking incredibly difficult. Now he understood why Hermione passed out after the attack; he felt that he wouldn't be able to remain conscious much longer as well. With all his might he tried to focus on a summoning charm, but his nauseous stomach was making it nearly impossible. The lips touched his throat now. Negura, the sick beast, was playing with him.
He opened his eyes and noticed that Draco and Lucius were close beside them, in the same degrading position. He noticed how Draco's face was drenched with tears. The poor blonde had to lose the fight or give it up and the older Malfoy was clearly enjoying that, licking his son's throat in a disgusting manner. Harry was sick of watching it, so he looked down and caught a glimpse of Draco's Dark Mark on his exposed left forearm. A sudden idea appeared in his feverish mind. The pointy canines grazed his vulnerable neck, yet he gathered all strength and called out the words which could hopefully save them for a little longer...
"DRACO! DO IT! TOUCH IT!"
At a sound of his name being called, Draco opened his teary eyes and their stares met. Then he slowly looked down at his arm, gazing at the mark, his face unreadable. It was too late, Harry suddenly realized and looked away – the hand which he used to hold Negura back was pushed away and the vampire pressed his teeth into his flesh and … screamed in pain.
And Lucius too.
Draco only whimpered.
The two vampires grasped their forearms, squeezing them brutally. Harry, beside being fascinated by his continuing existence, noticed that Negura held his own arm even tighter then the remaining two Death Eaters. His cold, merciless eyes bored into the sobbing young man on the floor.
"Draco, you naughty little boy, this is my party!" Negura hissed maliciously and slowly let go of his left hand.
"Are you listening to Potter's orders now? Do you want Voldemort to come here and save you from your papa?"
Lucius smirked, watching how Negura slowly approached his godson.
"Do you think that he would let you live? How stupid you are, boy. Lucky that Voldemort can't find this place or else you would pay the biggest price possible for your foolishness."
He knelt beside him, wiping tears from his face, before getting up and turning towards Harry again.
"And you Potter … stop suborning my godson. I know what you're after. You need to get more time for your friends from the Order to come here and save you. Let me tell you the truth, it's not going to work. They cannot defeat my army, which is waiting outside. You can as well give it up already."
His left hand twitched again, Harry noticed it, judging that Voldemort must be close. It was logical; the Dark Lord could Apparate on Grimmauld Place within several seconds. But Negura got one thing right. Voldemort couldn't find the exact place without Harry telling him its location. What an absurd situation he was facing!
"Let's finish it, Potter. I've lost too much time here already," Negura hissed, strolling confidently back towards him, while Lucius once again attacked his son.
Harry's brain practically boiled. He knew that Voldemort probably knew the correct number, which meant that he had to be behind windows now, still unable to see or hear anything.
Negura grasped his collar, raising him from the ground pressing his face close to his neck again.
Harry made a decision.
Mad situations required mad resolutions.
"You know, there's one thing you should know about Voldemort," he whispered in the vampire's ear.
Draco screamed again, nearly deafening Negura's response.
"And what is that, boy?"
Harry slightly, nearly imperceptibly smiled.
"He is not deaf."
For a moment, Negura's face was blank. He missed Harry's point completely.
Harry didn't give him a time to understand it. He breathed in so much that his chest constricted in another seizure and then screamed at the top of his lungs.
"GRIMMAULD PLACE, NUMBER TWELVE!"
Time seemed to freeze for a split of a second. Then, several things happened at once.
"You little SLINK!" Negura roared and Harry saw the fist coming to his face with such a force that it was certainly going to crush his skull. The vampire's other hand squeezed his windpipe, keeping him in place. Harry could only close his eyes, waiting for the impact to come. It never did.
With a huge explosion the window came apart and a cold air from the outside invaded the room.
Negura disappeared – or at least Harry couldn't see him anymore. He turned his head to look at Draco and gasped in surprise.
The poor young Death Eater was still pressed against the wall, his grey eyes opened wide in shock. Lucius still held him in place, their faces inches apart. Yet his stare wasn't directed at his son, but on the wall behind him, his mouth agape.
There was also the third, and tallest, figure, whose long black robes billowed in the freezing wind. Said figure held Lucius' long hair in one hand while the other plunged some object between vampire's ribs.
"Lucius, my slippery friend," said a high, freezing voice. "We meet again at last."
The older Malfoy let out a choke.
"Haven't I warned you, Lucius, not to betray me ever again? And yet you had the audacity to do that twice in a row. First, during the battle of Hogwarts." The cold hand pushed the object deeper in vampire's chest. Malfoy howled in pain.
"Second, by joining that bloodsucking freak."
Lucius produced a raspy, unrecognizable sound.
"There's only one last thing I wish to tell you...," the cold voice whispered softly.
"Die."
With that Voldemort pulled out the wooden pole out of the vampire's chest and Lucius Malfoy staggered backwards, his eyes opened, yet unseeing. His knees gave out to his body weight and with one last rattling sound he fell to the ground, dead.
Draco reached out for him and gave a long heart-breaking cry.
"FATHER!"
A tip of a long wand underneath his chin halted every sound coming from the youngster's mouth.
"Silence, Draco. I'll deal with you later. Until then, you will wait for me here."
Draco's ashen lips opened and closed several times as if he was trying to say something aloud, but he couldn't. Ultimately, his body sagged down beside his father's corpse.
Only then Voldemort turned towards Harry, drawing his long black cape down.
The flaming red eyes met Harry's green ones in a silent staring contest.
"I must say that I'm disappointed a little."
It wasn't Voldemort who said that, but the second fiend in the room. According to his voice he stood somewhere nearby, but Harry still couldn't see him.
"I thought you would consider me as your priority target," he went on smoothly.
Voldemort looked up and Harry saw his red eyes narrow in loathing.
"Conceited as ever. What else should I expect from you, Negura?"
"Oh, come on, Voldemort. What was that about? Was it really necessary to kill your old friend?"
Finally Harry noticed some movement on his right side. It was hard to distinguish anything particular over the twilight. He could also see some flashing lights coming from the outside and wondered whether it's the rest of the Order fighting an uneven battle against Negura's vampires.
"Lucius betrayed me. I might be merciful about some other things, but I've never pardoned treachery. Though, I'm certain that you know that," Riddle whispered, his fingers skimming over his wand gently.
"Beside that, I know that it hurts the creator to see his new-born child dying," he added maliciously. "So, tell me, did that hurt a lot, Dragomir?"
"Not at all," Negura smiled falsely. "I don't mind it in slightest if you're willing to take his place."
The tension grew. Voldemort stopped caressing his wand and gripped it tightly.
"Still underestimating me, servant? It's you who's going to die tonight, for good."
"Still living in an illusion, Voldemort? I was never your servant to begin with," Negura countered, making Voldemort hiss virulently.
"Says a man who carries my Mark and who used to kiss my feet."
"I no longer have your Mark, only some remnants of it. You shall recall those events which led to its destruction. Though," he added with a certain reluctance, "I admit that kissing certain parts of your body was ... entertaining."
Voldemort's wand shot up and so did Negura's.
For a moment nothing happened; it was the famous stillness before a storm. It scraped on Harry's nerves that he was lying on the ground in the middle of their clash-zone.
"I see you found yourself a very poor substitute for me," Dragomir sneered. "Why you haven't killed him long ago, I have no idea. I guess if I do it right now, you'll be only grateful..."
It was only when the vampire pointed his wand at him that Harry decided to pay it some attention. His mind was deeply agonized by his fear for his friends. He couldn't see their bodies, but he also noticed no movement. No one else beside him, poor Draco and the two lunatics seemed to be alive in this room. (Though saying that Negura was alive was disputable at least).
The flow of his thoughts was forcefully disconnected as some invisible force suddenly tackled his body and dragged it in the opposite direction to Negura's standpoint. Right after that he was hauled on his feet, a cold hand encircled his sore chest and a pair of cold lips touched his ear.
"You might have stolen the Malfoys from me, but Potter is mine," Voldemort hissed possessively.
Harry raised his heavy head to look at Negura's reaction.
"Tche," the vampire leered. "It would never have occurred to me that you are willing to waste your time with such a mediocre whelp."
"And I wouldn't have thought that you could be so jealous, Negura," the Dark Lord sneered, holding Harry closer. "Besides, Harry's much more than your poor substitution. Unlike you, he doesn't taste like a dead flesh."
Harry, completely perplexed by Voldemort's unexpected statement, didn't know how to react. That was not something his archenemy usually said about him. Moreover, it seemed that Hermione finally came round and heard it too. Her shocked gasp said it all. Damn the dreadful timing. Whoever said that he was lucky was gravely mistaken. No, Harry was the most luckless person on the world.
But it wasn't over yet. Nothing in the world could prepare him for what was coming next. The long fingers seized his chin, turning his head towards the source of the warm puffs, which repeatedly touched his earlobe until that moment. At the sight of the red, slightly glowing eyes Harry's mind went blank. It was like the mirror experience all over again, only this time for real. The slow, gliding touch of the cold lips against his had a special, anaesthetic effect on his body, attenuating the pain he felt to a barely perceptible level. He closed his eyes, relishing in the bittersweet taste, in the peculiar smell of spice and old books and in the vibrant, warm feeling, which was making him tipsy. The kiss, the touch and everything about it was amazingly relaxing and yet his toes curled and clenched at the sensation. Their mouths separated slowly and Harry kept his eyes closed for some time before looking up. Breath halted in his chest at the sight of the formerly despicable face. He didn't know what he used to hate so much.
"Yet," Negura growled, obtrusively breaking into their private moment.
Voldemort raised his hairless eyebrow, turning to look at the vampire.
"He doesn't taste like a dead flesh yet," Dragomir emphasized, raised his wand and sent a jet of deadly green light at them without any warning.
R&R