Author's note: First of all, I would like to say that this is the next to last chapter of The cave incident. If anyone of the readers is waiting for the right time to post a review, then it's now, or the next time or probably never. So please, don't hesitate and write me what you think about this story! :D

Secondly, I do appreciate very much the response I received for the previous chapter. You're keeping me writing, guys. Thank you!

Beta - TheSecretUchiha Thank you! :)

xxxxx

Confrontation, part III

xxxxx

London, Grimmauld Place, 12

26th December 2000, 03:58

"HARRY!"

Hermione's frightened screech reached his ears just as the green jet missed his head by a hair's breadth. The deadly light blasted against an old cupboard somewhere behind him, sending chips and splinters everywhere. Harry didn't even know when Voldemort let go of him; he only realized when he was alone all of a sudden. Instinctively, he tried to catch his balance as his support unexpectedly disappeared.

"Using a killing curse, Negura? I admit I didn't expect that coming from you," the Dark Lord spoke coldly, reappearing in Harry's peripheral vision.

Then some invisible force bent Harry's spine, sending him face forward into the dust and dirt. Pain blossomed in his chest again but as he was already accustomed to that feeling, he managed to stifle the cry before it left his mouth. Through his half-closed eyelids he registered a blinding flash of green light emerging from Voldemort's wand.

"Oh, I don't mind using it, as you see," Negura smirked and elegantly avoided a direct hit. "Though, I still consider every score as an unnecessary waste of food."

"Which explains your poor aiming," the Voldemort hissed and blocked the incoming stunning curse with ease. Then he raised his arms, created a large shining blue spiral and sent it directly at his opponent.

Meanwhile, Harry tried to get up and join the fight. The spell which was placed upon him proved to be too powerful though and he couldn't raise himself more than two inches above the ground.

"Harry!"

He heard Hermione call out his name again and looked up, locating her subtle figure on the opposite side of the kitchen. As Negura's counter-curse and the shining spiral attached to Voldemort's wand collided in the air and created a new blast of light, Harry saw her scramble to her feet, pull out her wand from shambles of broken dishes and furniture and turn back to him. She apparently wanted to go over and help him, but didn't realize that he wasn't the one in an urgent need of attendance.

Besides, any attempt to approach him could easily mean meeting one of the killing curses which violently flashed around. A new, strong streak of a venomously green light right above him confirmed his worries.

"Go back!" he screamed out, unsure if she heard him. She halted at least.

"Help the others! Get them out of here!"

Another flash made her crouch. But she looked at him again and nodded.

"Hermione!" he yelled and she quickly looked back. "Be careful!" He couldn't see her response over the darkness which surrounded them for a moment. When a new string of curses provided some illumination, she was already out of the sight.

"Take care," he whispered and turned on a belly, looking over the havoc around him. Maybe he couldn't get up, but he could still crawl to whatever destination he chose. And he knew exactly where he needed to move. He had to collect his wand which was still buried somewhere under the broken table. He wasn't going to let Voldemort crush that devil's spawn all by himself. Not after what Negura had done to his friends.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to move ahead. It worked somehow, but his movements were dreadfully slow. Hell, even a snail would be faster! With this pace he won't be able to find his wand till the New Millennium!

Then a thundering explosion momentarily deafened him, bursting apart one of the transverse walls and remaining windows. His body was instantly showered with a new portion of crushed bricks, grit, dust and plaster.

"Damn you!" he yelled at the fighters. If those two maniacs destroyed this house, they would take away the last remembrance of Sirius he had. He had to find a way to kick them out of here before they turned this place into ruins!

Spitting a tirade of swear words, Harry forced his stiff body to move again, faster if possible. It took him a good minute to creep under something that used to be a wardrobe once, possibly, (though how it appeared in the kitchen remained a mystery for him). With this huge object out of the way, he could once again see the dueling couple.

Harry didn't find it very surprising when he saw that Voldemort held the upper hand, keeping Negura in check, striking curse after curse, trying to bring the latter to his knees. It was the vampire's expression which he found totally bewildering. Negura was clearly amused by his predicament and his smile reminded Harry of a parent who willingly let his child win the game to make the kid happy. Any impression of friendliness was however marred by countless injuries all over Negura's body. It didn't seem to bother the vampire though, as his response was still as quick and precise as before.

Harry pressed his broken glasses closer to his face and turned to look at Voldemort. The man was livid. His mouth was twisted in a vicious grimace and his blazing eyes teemed with furious hatred. It seemed that he would rather lose the fight then win it because he was being spared.

"Stop playing with me, you bloodsucking freak!" he snarled and his wand sliced through the air again and again. And then, a fraction of second of inattention on the vampire's behalf nearly cost him his head. The flash of yellow light coming from Voldemort's wand split open from his neck down to his spine. Within the blink of an eye the mocking smile was replaced by a look of shock and rage. Consequently, one of the vampire's hands covered the bloodless wound while the other pointed the wand at Voldemort. Harry didn't hear what Negura growled under his breath (it made him wonder whether he could even produce a sound while his vocal cords were separated from the windpipe); he only saw the result.

It looked like a violet sword rushing out of the tip of his long, umber wand, finding the target with an inhuman precision.

Just a fraction of second later Harry heard a loud, appalling shriek. His head spun to look at Voldemort whose face was no longer twisted in hatred, but in pain. He watched him topple backwards, yew wand falling from his opened palm, clattering against the floor. His tall body followed just a moment later and the sound of it cut deeply into Harry's brain.

Seconds quickly passed and Harry could only wait for something – for anything to happen. He waited in vain.

His breath froze in his throat. A rush of coldness seized his insides as he stared - still disbelieving - at his arch-nemesis who lay very still among burning debris.

He couldn't be dead, right?

Voldemort didn't move, didn't try to get up or at least reach for his wand which was just a couple of feet away from him. The absolute lack of interest in his further existence only proved that he had to have sustained a severe, if not fatal, injury.

Harry forced some air into his lungs.

But he couldn't be dead, right?-!

It was shocking how quickly it happened, he could only just begin to fully process it. One simple curse and it was all over. After the years and years he and his friends had spent on conceiving secret strategies, hunting his horcruxes and fighting against his Death Eaters, some formerly unknown vampire comes here and strikes him down.

Just like that.

It was so wrong.

And it was also ... hurting.

Harry couldn't exactly remember when he knew for sure that he wouldn't wish to celebrate Voldemort's death. It could have been weeks, months or years. He still hoped to win over him because that was what he had always hoped for; he still fought him because that was what he was supposed to do so. But he lacked the proper zeal. Things would probably be different if he had something to look forward to in the future, if there was someone waiting for him there. However, Ginny was dead and he was alone, hollow and desolate. Hours ago, he told Voldemort that he wanted him dead though he didn't want to be the one to kill him. Only now he realized how much he had lied and he wished to take it back.

He couldn't accept that this was the end. Voldemort gave his existence at least some purpose. Ironically, he supplied him with the strength to go on. And he refused to accept that it was over, because Voldemort wouldn't die like that. No, no, wouldn't wasn't the right term. Tom Riddle mustn't die like that - that was what he meant. For he still didn't have a chance to tell him … he still couldn't tell him … about the shameful feelings which tormented his heart, feelings he was trying to hide and ignore the best he could, even (especially) from himself.

Harry breathed out and forcefully sucked in another portion of the air. Breathing through his cramped throat became a difficult, nearly heroic task.

He needed to shed that burden and spit it all out; otherwise he would probably crumble and fall apart. He needed to say aloud that he may have lost illusions long ago, but the dreadful cave incident helped him to open up his eyes a bit. He needed to say that he refuses to give up on him yet completely. That he believed now that even a fragment of soul means much more than that desolate emptiness in the eyes of those undead monsters. That he knew how vital that fragment still was, enough to show an enormous response when revealed from beneath a thick cover of lies and pretence. He wanted to say that he cared about that fragment, that little piece of humanity Voldemort could never fully renounce as long as his heart pounded.

It didn't make any sense that he cared so much. He felt the same fear for him as for Arthur, Angelina or the other members of the Order who were still fighting vampires outside. His worries nearly reached the level of those he felt for Ron, his best friend. He cared so intolerably that it made his eyes water, though he was continually trying to convince himself that it was because of the pungent smoke which was irritating his nose and palate.

Voldemort couldn't be gone now, when he forced him to realize this. That bastard couldn't do this to him, even though it would be cruel enough to comply with his ruthless reputation.

Then, Negura's quiet, calm voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"Voldemort. The seventh one to join my Council. So mote it be."

Harry turned to look at him. The vampire was once again on his feet; the wound on his neck healed completely and his cold navy-blue eyes glued to the motionless figure.

"Defeating you was still too easy, Voldemort. It was still a disappointment."

Harry glanced back at Riddle and his heart, which was until that moment frozen in his chest, jumped back to life as he caught sight of Voldemort's left arm, which suddenly moved a little.

So he was alive! That bastard survived it!

Relief flooded him like storm water, making him ridiculously happy for a very short moment. Right away, he was ashamed.

"I planned to do it differently," Negura continued, "but as you couldn't wait to deal with me I guess I'll have to do it now," he spoke softly and approached the Dark Lord with striking confidence. Then a disturbing smirk appeared back on his handsome face.

And Harry's breath ran short again as he recalled the events from Riddle's Pensieve. He wouldn't be able to watch that horror once again. This time he was going to intervene and stop it from happening no matter what. For the second time since Negura intruded his house Harry felt something move inside him, as if his feelings of hatred and revulsion obtained a physical form. He slowly rose to his feet, unaware that the curse no longer held him down.

The vampire ignored him as he probably didn't consider him as a real threat or because he was too engrossed by his future victim. And Harry was going to use it against him. His heart hammered in his chest, his sweaty palms tingled and his fingers twitched with the urge to grasp a wand and punish that freak for hurting people he cared about. He didn't bother to think of the consequences, it was something he simply had to do.

Voldemort moved again, Harry briefly noticed it although his attention was already fully focused on finding a weapon he could use against Negura. Desperation grew inside him as he finally made it to the shattered table and yet there were so many chippings everywhere that he couldn't tell which one of them was the wand he was looking for.

Another scream and he glanced back at the Dark Lord who apparently tried to reach his wand too, only Negura was faster. He collected the yew wand from the ground, ignoring Riddle's agonized outcry.

"You won't be needing it anymore," the vampire said almost apologetically and with a quick flick of it he raised the Dark Lord from the floor.

Voldemort was indeed seriously injured; Harry could see how wet and sticky his dark robes were from a copious amount of blood. He quickly looked away and cursed himself for that distraction. His task was to find his own wand before Negura could attack Riddle and kill him for good. And he knew that he had only several seconds to do that, because nothing turns vampires wilder than the sight of that crimson liquid.

He went back on the knees and his eyes and hands jumped from one place to another, searching, raking and rummaging through the mess as quickly as possible.

"Damn it! Damn it! It must be here somewhere! Where the hell is that stupid twig!"

He had to close his eyes for the briefest moment to regain composure. The imaginary clock kept ticking in his head faster and faster.

"Accio! Accio wand!" he hissed urgently, despair leaking into his voice. He was still searching madly for the lost wand and yet he couldn't stop himself from checking Negura, who meanwhile clenched his hand around the back of Riddle's neck, holding it in an unforgiving clasp.

"I have no idea what you've done to your blood," he heard the vampire whisper, "but the truth is that I don't mind very much. I don't care that you don't smell as appealingly as before."

Harry halted his frantic scramble and looked up.

"I'm curious, though," the Leader admitted. "Because you smell almost like a … Muggle."

Voldemort didn't show any reaction, but Harry nearly toppled over in shock. The memory of Dr. Rodgers giving Voldemort a blood transfusion to save his life sprung before his eyes.

"It's a little displeasing but as I said … it doesn't make much difference to me. So, if you thought that something like that is going to stop me, then you were quite wrong," the vampire whispered, leaning closer to the other man's face and Harry knew he had to do something … now!

"Lumos!" he yelped and a soft, bluish light instantly flared up in the ruptured tablecloth right beside his left knee.

He grasped the wand, turned it at Negura and screamed without thinking.

"INCARCEROUS!"

Long ropes burst out of its tip, coiling around Negura's limbs like rabid snakes. The monster screamed in rage, tore the ropes apart, but Harry instantly conjured new ones, which covered his whole body. As the vampire struggled to set himself free Voldemort used the offered chance and pounced, grabbing his yew wand and twisting it from the enemy's forcefully clenched palm. Harry soon felt that he wouldn't be able to hold the Leader fettered for much longer; the wand in his hand was jumping, slipping and sliding between his fingers. With a final scream Negura was free, his umber wand turned the ropes into ashes and then its tip was directed at Harry, a dark blue light rushing out of it, blasting Harry's wand apart, lifting his body and slamming it against a wall.

Harry's chest exploded. Or so he felt. The pain was destructive. The world around him ceased to exist; everything was drowned by the fire in his thorax. In that moment he didn't doubt he was going to die. He knew he was going to die because of Voldemort, as the prophecy said, but who would have thought that the reason for it wouldn't be self-sacrifice for his friends, but self-sacrifice for Voldemort. Life was too absurd sometimes...

The need to breathe grew exponentially, yet anytime he tried to take in some air, his chest heaved and he coughed up blood. He heard noises and screams, but he lacked the energy to open his eyes. Finally, the torture began to ebb away together with his consciousness.

"Potter!"

Someone called him, but his eyelids were too heavy to lift up.

"Potter!"

The voice was louder now and then he heard some other words which he didn't understand. The sharp pain was back, enormous, insufferable and he wanted to yell, but how could he when his airways were blocked? Or were they? Because he overheard a painful howl which sounded suspiciously like his own voice.

Then someone's cold hands touched his face and chest, and a high voice spoke close to his ear.

"Breathe."

And he obeyed that voice and nothing could give him greater pleasure than that cool air which rushed into his empty lungs. He did it again and again, dissolving in a sea of relief.

"That's better."

He opened his eyes and gazed up at the large black hole in the ceiling. Finally after many long seconds his eyes turned to the man who said those words.

Voldemort.

Strangely, he wasn't even surprised. To be honest, he expected to see him there for some reason.

"Where's … where's Negura?" he whispered hoarsely.

The Dark Lord didn't answer, only looked aside. Harry awkwardly shifted onto his elbows and turned his head in the same direction. He found him instantly, yet all he could see was a mutilated torso of a human body without arms and head. It was pinned to the floor by a massive wooden stake, still twitching and jerking. Harry couldn't stand that morbid spectacle for any longer and looked back at Voldemort.

"It's not over yet. This merely holds him back for a while," the Dark Lord said blankly and then his flaming red eyes found Harry's again.

He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry's forehead. Harry didn't know what it was supposed to mean. Was he going to use the Killing Curse again to see whether it will or won't work? Before he could say something, before he could even open his mouth, the yew wand briefly tapped his glasses that were instantly good as new.

"I suggest you to visit a healer, Potter. Your lungs have suffered severe damage," Voldemort said dispassionately, got up and turned away from him. .

Harry gulped heavily and rubbed his slightly aching chest in a nervous manner.

"Thanks … for the glasses and for saving my life. By the way, did you do that because you felt obliged? Because I saved you from Negura's claws?" Harry asked.

The Dark Lord hissed virulently and turned back, leaning closer to the youngster.

"I did not require your assistance, Potter!"

Harry bit his lip to hold back an; 'of course not'.

"But … I admit I appreciated your intervention. It served my purpose. Consider your continued existence as a reward."

"Right, great reward. You couldn't let Negura kill me because it's your job to do," Harry said when Voldemort apparently decided that was all what he wanted to tell him.

The Dark Lord halted and looked back over his shoulder.

"Exactly," he whispered softly. "Now gather your filthy friends and get out of here while you can."

"Hey! This is my house! Why should I...?-!"

He was hauled on his feet, cold fingers grasped his chin and raised it up so their eyes met again.

"Listen, Potter," Riddle hissed, their faces not two inches from each other.

Harry held his gaze, waiting for the lesson, but Voldemort was silent. It was then that he realized that the Dark Lord actually wanted him to listen to something.

"Can you hear them crawl closer and closer?"

Harry didn't know what he was referring to.

"There are dozens of vampires outside. All of them certainly heard your loud invitation. The fact that they are still outside is because Negura ordered them to stay put. I'm certain though, that it's only a question of a very short time before they'll succumb to their natural curiosity and pay you a visit. So, you're welcome to stay here, brat, if you wish to die so much!"

Harry stared at him as he spoke, watching the display of emotions on Riddle's face. There was a certain revulsion, displeasure, suspense, apprehension and then some others which were not so easy to distinguish. The black slits in his eyes narrowed and then dilated again, the cold fingers squeezed his chin harder than before.

"Why do you care what's going to happen to me?" Harry whispered without breaking the stare.

The anger flashed in those merciless eyes, before a twisted amusement replaced it.

"I don't care about you, Potter," he whispered, smirked slyly and took a step backward. "It's only that…" he took a deep breath, leaving a dramatic pause, "...you've always been my weak spot. Recently, you made me realize that I can afford to have a weakness as long as it makes me stronger."

He let go of Harry's face, his long fingers glided over his skin in a surprisingly pleasant manner. But his eyes were ice cold and emotionless as ever. Harry reached out to touch his hand, but it would be easier to catch a smoke.

"Wait!" he called. "We have to …er … you know … talk."

"Have to?" Voldemort whispered maliciously and disappeared in a shadow. "You're clearly forgetting who I am, Potter."

"Bastard," Harry hissed through clenched teeth. "Okay. I would like to talk to you if you don't mind!" he spat, sarcasm seeping from every word.

Voldemort reappeared behind a smashed girder and took another step sideways.

"I do mind in fact. I'm not interested in any discussion with you at the moment. Besides, you're running out of time, brat. The vampires are coming to end your poor, worthless life. Either go now, or never."

Harry finally decided to let it slide and postpone their discussion for some other, more appropriate, time. From what Voldemort told him, he deduced that his friends were still here, inside this house. They probably couldn't leave, the same way the rest of the Order couldn't get inside. Which meant that he had to find them and use some alternative method of transportation. And he had to be quick about it.

xxxxx

Three minutes later Harry was already upstairs, hurling from one room to another, calling Hermione's name. The fire from the battle grew stronger, soon consuming wooden linings around walls, mouldering parquets, dusty banisters, old pictures and tapestry, furniture and everything else beside bare bricks. If Harry had a wand and time, he would try to stop it. However, finding and helping his friends was his first and highest priority.

"Hermione!" he called out and burst in another door, no longer losing time with using handles.

"Harry!"

His heart jumped in joy as he saw her in the corner kneeling by Ron, who lay on his back and his head rested against her lap. Her wand was pointed at him.

"Is that you?"

"Yeah," he gasped breathlessly.

Her lips trembled a little as she asked.

"What was Ginny's favourite charm?"

"Bat-Bogey Hex and miniskirts," he said without hesitation.

He saw her lips quirk upwards, but then her eyes filled sadness. "You're right. Sorry, I had to ask."

Harry only nodded.

"I understand, but we have to leave now. How's Ron?" he hurled out.

"He's alive, but still unconscious. I stopped the bleeding at least. I really can't do much more for him at the moment," she whispered and looked aside at the older man, whose back was propped against the wall. "Mr. Weasley's better. I repaired his broken arm and healed the concussion. He's asleep now."

"Harry," she said urgently and turned to him. "I tried to take them outside and Apparate as you wanted but I couldn't because..."

"...there are hordes of vampires out there. Yeah, I know," he finished for her.

"Have you seen Angelina?" he asked as he helped her on feet .

"No, I'm afraid..."

"I'd rather you don't say it aloud," he muttered through his gritted teeth. "We've got to go, Hermione. We will use the Emergency Floo Network which is connected to the fireplace on the ground floor. It's designed for two people so you'll go first with Ron and I'll take Mr. Weasley afterward."

"I'll try to wake him up," she said and Harry nervously looked around.

"Okay, just hurry up, we don't have a time..."

"Ennervate!"

Arthur opened his eyes on that instant. He looked dazed. Then he saw them above him and leaned forward. A twinge of pain made his lips tighten as he tried to sit up properly.

"Harry … Hermione... What … where's...?"

"Not now Mr. Weasley," Harry hissed urgently. "We've got to go. We will tell you everything later."

"Can you get up?" Hermione asked solicitously.

"I think so," Arthur muttered and hoisted himself up on his feet.

"Good. Hermione, take Ron, please. Come on. We must go!" Harry said, while watching his surroundings guardedly.

"What … what happened to my son?-!" Arthur stuttered out when Hermione levitated the ginger headed young man from the ground.

"He should be fine once he gets the medical help," Harry said hopefully. "But we must get out of here first! Hurry up!"

He grabbed someone's sleeve and dragged them back to the staircase. The wild flames turned the small space into a furnace. Harry heard Hermione cast some protective charm as they climbed downstairs. Finally they reached the ground floor and Harry led them amongst burning shatter towards the fireplace.

"Here you go. See you in a minute at the Hog's Head. Tell Aberforth to contact McGonagall immediately. I'm sure that Madam Pomfrey will take much better care of Ron than any other healer. I don't think it would be a good idea to take him toSt. Mungo's now," he said as he put a small bag with glittering powder into Hermione's hand. She opened her mouth to say something, but a sudden, horrendous scream interrupted her.

"DAMN!" Harry swore as he recognized the voice. He fisted his hair in desperation. "It's Draco!"

"Malfoy?" Mr. Weasley asked with displeasure. "He's still here?"

Harry bit his aching lower lip and nodded as he came to some resolution.

"Just go ahead. I'll follow you as soon as possible."

"Harry, you're not going to help him right?-!"

"Look, I..."

"By the way, where's your wand, Harry?" Hermione asked as she noticed his empty hands.

"Negura destroyed it. But don't worry, Voldemort conquered him right after that."

"What … WHAT? You-Know-Who is here?-!" Arthur gasped for breath.

"I had to break the Fidelus Charm, Mr. Weasley," Harry said tiredly and rubbed the bridge of his nose to lessen his growing headache. "Otherwise Negura would kill us all."

Another one of Draco's screams made all of them look in that direction.

"Harry, you can't stay here another second then!" Arthur's voice rose in intensity.

"Mr. Weasley, please! If Voldemort wanted to kill me then I would've been dead a couple of hours ago. Please, just take your son and get him some help! I'll see what I can do for Draco. I can't let the vampires take revenge upon him if I can stop it!"

He didn't wait for their response and hurried in a direction of painful screams. He heard them calling after him, but he didn't stop until the moment when he saw something what made him practically tumble over his own legs.

It wasn't the vampires that were making Draco cry.

He couldn't … he couldn't believe it.

It was Voldemort.

That bastard was using the Cruciatus Curse against the poor young Death Eater and, according to the great amusement displayed on his face, he was absolutely enjoying it!

Harry's mouth moved idly. Awakening was sometimes brutal and unrelenting. He may have lost his illusions long ago, but he apparently made several new ones during recent times. How stupid – childish – of him! He gulped idly as he stared at the person he learned to care about. This sadistic bully, who doesn't hesitate to torture a victim of circumstances to make himself feel better. Harry's stomach made a violet flip and his knees bucked. He didn't know why he felt so betrayed. He was familiar with Voldemort's cruel ways. He knew about his crimes, so why did his heart ache as if it was wrenched out of his chest?-!

"You sick bastard!" he roared as his fury fully erupted inside him. He shot ahead like a bullet, hoping to smash Voldemort by the impact.

A Trip Jinx which made him stumble and fall before he could reach his target.

He looked up, Voldemort's furious eyes on him, his mouth moving.

"Crucio!"

"PROTEGO!"

The curse never reached Harry as it was blocked by a strong counter curse. Harry looked back as fast as he could and saw Hermione stand about fifteen feet behind him, her wand pointing at Voldemort. Her face was paler than paper, her hand shook so much that he could see each tremble, but her grip was firm and her pose rebellious.

"Mudblood," Voldemort whispered softly and Harry's heart missed a beat as he registered open malice in that voice. "Courageous and … soon to be dead."

"NO!" Harry screamed and scrambled on his feet.

"Don't you dare … don't you dare!" he wheezed, squeezing his aching chest.

Voldemort's crimson eyes left Hermione's frame and bore into Harry's.

"Or what, Potter?"

The hand holding a yew wand dropped an inch.

"What are you going to do to stop me?"

Harry said nothing, only held the cruel eyes and crammed the stare with every emotion which boiled inside his heart. He wanted to flood Voldemort's mind with the feeling of pain, disappointment and betrayal. He wanted to see if the bastard could at least react to it or not.

And it worked. It was shocking, yet it really worked. He could almost feel the Dark Lord protect his mind and senses from this forceful disclosure of raw feelings. Strangely, Voldemort never reacted to anyone's feelings before.

"Why are you still here, Potter?" he whispered, his voice still cold, venomous.

The yew wand sagged down another couple of inches.

"Let him go," Harry said firmly and looked down at a very green, young man on the floor. Draco's eyes widened in a wordless shock. He gazed at Harry with the most incredulous expression written all over his face.

"What was that?" the Dark Lord hissed venomously, his lips twitching in irritation.

"I said let him go," Harry repeated calmly. He forced his breath to slow down, never looking away from the blazing eyes.

Voldemort was silent for a moment and then he laughed coldly.

"Impudent fool! Pray tell me, why should I..."

"You owe me, Riddle!" Harry interrupted him and raised his chin. "You owe me for saving your life!"

The Dark Lord's eyes instantly narrowed.

"Oh really, Potter? And here I thought I repaid you moments ago."

"Well, I'm not talking about what happened here," Harry said sternly. "I'm talking about what happened in the quarry a week ago. I saved your life when I carried you out of there. I could easily have let you freeze to death and you are very well aware of that."

Voldemort said nothing to that, his mouth tightened for a second.

"Let him go," Harry said again, quieter this time. "And consider us even. Spare Malfoy's life and you no longer have to feel any obligation towards me."

Harry heard Draco's surprised gasp as well as he noticed the shocked expression which appeared on Voldemort's face for a second before it was gone.

"You're willing to sacrifice your only 'protection' for the sake of a Death Eater, for Draco Malfoy … your enemy?"

So it was true. The only thing which held Voldemort back from killing him was that obligation. Harry should be glad that he finally knew the answer. But he wasn't glad, he was resentful … and hurting. He didn't want to show that bastard any of his feelings anymore.

His eyes clouded, yet his voice remained firm as he calmly said.

"Yes."

"Harry, no!" Hermione screamed behind him, but he didn't look away from those sanguine eyes.

"And why would you do something like that?" Voldemort's voice suddenly held some new, formerly absent, emotion. Harry couldn't identify it as well as he couldn't reply to that question. He couldn't tell Voldemort that he needed to discover the depth of changes in their relationship – if there were some to begin with. He needed to know whether Voldemort still wanted to murder him on spot as he declared. He chose a risky way how to find it out, but he didn't see any other option. And now he was afraid that the answer was not what he had hoped for. He looked away; he couldn't show him the treacherous emotions he suddenly felt.

"Do you … love him? Because that's what fools like you often do for those who they care about, correct?" Voldemort asked coldly and the new emotion exploded in his usually detached voice with such intensity that there couldn't be any doubt.

Harry's eyes grew wide as he still stared at the ground. He thought he was going to hyperventilate for a moment. So he was wrong in his judgment after all, because Voldemort clearly felt something more than a pure hatred. Because right now he was … he was definitely and irrevocably jealous!

The tip of the yew wand raised his chin and forced him to meet the flaring eyes again.

"Answer me, Potter!"

Yes, yes! Harry's mind screamed. He was jealous! He was soooo jealous!

Voldemort took a quick step backwards as if he got burnt. He bared his teeth in distaste and hissed several swear words in Parseltongue. Only then Harry realized that that emotionally retarded prodigy probably misinterpreted his thoughts.

"No, I don't," Harry said resolutely but the damage was already done.

"Silence, Potter! I no longer wish to listen to your lies!"

Riddle took another step backward.

"It doesn't matter to me, brat! I'll spare Malfoy's life, erase that obligation towards you and then I'll watch them feed off your necks. Lord Voldemort is no longer interested in your pathetic existence, Harry Potter!"

Harry bit his lip forcefully. Honestly, how could someone so intelligent be so dull-witted about some things at the same time?

But - oh, damn it! Now it seemed that Harry had much worse problems then one enraged Dark Lord in front of him. He looked around wildly and to his absolute horror he realized that the vampires already entered the room, they crawled through the broken windows, and holes in the walls. Their opened chops showed sets of murderous glistering canines and their dilated eyes were overflowing with a mad blood lust.

"And you, Draco," Voldemort said quietly as he retreated into the depths of the house. "Enjoy those few minutes of life which Potter won for you. I hope you'll find them unforgettable."

xxxxx

"Hermione! Hurry up to the fireplace!" Harry roared as he looked over the legion of vampires, the mass of their bodies rolling inside.

"Harry!" she screamed and immobilized several closest vampires. Their eyes met over the distance and he knew for sure in that moment that she was not going to go without him. And it wasn't in his power to make her leave. Harry couldn't approach her without a wand clearing his way and she couldn't fight all those vampires alone. Damn it, they needed a help. If only the Emergency Floo Network could work in both directions, but it was one of its basic principle that it couldn't be possible, because it gave this place the necessary protection. No one was allowed to enter this house from the other side.

At least Ron and Mr. Weasley were safe. It was a poor consolation...

But why didn't the vampires attack them yet? Harry noticed that they peered at them hungrily, yet didn't assault them unless they were cursed or otherwise harmed! And Malfoy - that idiot - didn't notice it as he shot one curse after another, making the vampires around him rabid. Harry could hardly speak that ill of him; Draco was totally panicking.

He didn't wait another second and pounced at Malfoy, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to stop the attacks.

Draco screamed as he thought immediately that Harry was one of them.

"Shut it, Malfoy!" he yelled into his ear. "Shut it! They are not after us … yet!"

"Potter!" Draco spluttered, trying to squirm from his firm hold.

"I said shut it!" Harry retorted and held him with all the strength his crushed chest bone allowed. Finally, Draco seemed to realize it too. The vampires indeed didn't want to kill them yet.

"Hermione!" Harry screamed once he was absolutely sure. "Stop attacking them!"

He could barely see her over the mass of bodies which was already inside the room, but he hoped she heard him. He backed with Malfoy to the wall and propped himself against it, standing on a tiptoes to have a better view of what was going on. He could see Voldemort standing in the middle of the room (it used to be a living room where he stood; it was previously separated from the kitchen by a massive wall, but as the wall was already demolished, the whole ground floor could be overseen from one side to the other). The vampires formed a circle around him, but kept a safe distance from him. Harry was trying to locate Negura, but he couldn't see him yet. Was it even possible for that monster to heal such tremendous injuries?

"Potter!"

Draco's voice butted in his thought. Harry realized that he was unconsciously throttling him and he released his grip a little.

"Sorry," he hissed and looked over the hungry faces of the vampires which were within their reach.

"Potter," Draco spoke again, more hesitant now. "You …er ... you don't love me, right?"

Harry choked and if he wasn't propped against the wall he would certainly double over.

"Never did and never will!"

It seemed to reassure Malfoy a lot.

"Good," he whispered. "I can die in peace now."

"So can I," Harry hissed. "A hundred years later. I'm not giving it up yet, Malfoy," he added and swung up on tiptoes again. He tried to locate Hermione and see whether she was all right.

"Then why," Malfoy continued, once again hesitant. "Why did you do that for me, Potter?"

"Oh, just to piss Voldemort off," Harry said offhandedly, still trying to find her. "Guess it worked pretty nicely, what do you think?"

Draco turned his head over his shoulder and stared at Harry as if he had gone bonkers. Harry noticed his incredulous stare and quietly whispered.

"Now you don't really expect me to tell you the true reason, do you?"

Once again Malfoy looked extremely relieved.

"You know, Potter, sometimes you're really scary."

Harry smirked, but mostly because he was relieved too. He finally found his friend. Hermione was still about twenty feet from them, also pressed against the wall. She looked frightened but unharmed.

Then a sudden commotion moved the crowd before them. Harry heard the vampires hiss and snarl something. Just a moment later they all quietened, looking in one direction. Harry's toes started to sting from the stress he applied on them. But he needed to see what was going on. Voldemort still stood on one spot in his favourite position. His head was bowed and his hands were folded over the yew wand in front of him. He was waiting for something. And Harry guessed he knew for what … or who.

The crowd finally stood apart and Riddle slowly raised his head to see who he was facing. It was Negura – of course. The freak's healing powers were close to impossible. All the vampires were looking at their Leader now, waiting for his command. And Negura was looking at Voldemort, who was still shockingly calm. Harry couldn't help but feel something close to admiration toward him in that moment.

Negura gazed at Voldemort but didn't say anything. His head ultimately turned towards the window as if he was waiting for someone and indeed a few seconds later a young man – or a vampire more likely – appeared at the windowsill. He smoothed his elegant anthracite suit, adjusted his collar and strode confidently toward the Leader. He knelt before him and bowed his head.

"Umbridge and the Aurors are coming. I'm aware of that," the Leader spoke calmly. "Hold her back for a moment. I will solve this matter in a few minutes."

The man bowed again, got up and left as quickly as he came.

"So, it has come to this end," the Leader whispered softly and turned to Voldemort.

Voldemort said nothing. Not a single facial muscle moved in his face.

"I was hoping to avoid this development," Negura continued and stepped a little closer towards his opponent.

"You know your options, Voldemort. Either you'll kneel and beg for mercy (which I will provide and embrace you as my dearest child), or you'll keep your foolish pride and I'll order them to tear you apart."

The Dark Lord still said nothing, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he opened them again, unshaken and composed. Harry couldn't understand why Voldemort decided to stay here and face Leader's horrendous army all alone. He could run or fly away if he wanted to but now it could be too late, because vampires could fly too – and probably just as fast.

Negura slowly paced around the circle his vampires formed around Voldemort, playing with his wand distractedly. Then he stopped before him again.

"Don't make me order them to kill you," he spoke with growing tension. "I don't want to do that. You must realize that you have no other choice than to join me. Kneel!"

Voldemort smirked and finally spoke. His cold voice dripped with hatred and malice.

"You don't want me to kneel before you, Negura. If I do, I'm certain you'll regret it." His wandless hand disappeared in his robes and a moment later he pulled out some flask. Harry couldn't see what it was properly until he brought it to his lips and swallowed up the whole content at once. It had a very familiar flaming red colour; Harry instantly remembered seeing this vial back in Voldemort's hideout. He knew nothing about its effects, but it seemed to cause Voldemort serious pain. The Lord bent over, holding his throat, gasping for breath. And then he straightened his back again, drew up his wand at eye level and stilled.

At that moment Negura ran out of patience.

He looked over the hungry crowd of his vampires and then he bared his long canines as he barked out the order.

"As you wish then. Kill him!"

Voldemort dropped to one knee and it was the last glimpse Harry saw him before he disappeared beneath a mass of bodies.

R&R