Disclaimer: All the wonderful characters belong to J.K.Rowling, I'm just borrowing them.

Author's Note: Hello everyone, I hope the alerts are working again and that therefore I'll get more reviews #hinthint# Also I noticed that I might have answered some of your reviews wrong since I mixed the chapters up and thought I had already posted this one. Sorry about that, I hope it didn't confuse you too much. I also got a flame and though I normally find them very amusing, I actually thought about deleting this one, but since I'm allowed to write whatever I please, I think I should let you do the same #shrug#. But the rule still stands: If you just hate this fic or if you feel somehow offended by it you shouldn't read it. It's really not my fault if you don't find the return button.

38. DINNER

The Dark Lord scowled sitting at his lonely desk in the back of the Three Broomsticks, looking disdainfully at the drying flowers, which someone had put on the table, and the wax that slowly dripped on the wooden plate. His husband was already ten minutes late, he checked his watch to find that Harry was indeed already eleven minutes late and his scowl darkened.

On top of that it also seemed that every single Hogwarts student had chosen this time to also get a last butterbeer before it was time for them to go back to the castle and while he obviously couldn't order yet that didn't mean that he enjoyed being ignored. And that was what Madam Rosmerta was studiously doing: ignoring him, the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort! No-one was supposed to ignore him, least of all in favour of some stupid third years. It held absolutely no importance that Madam Rosmerta was slowly working her way from the left side to the right side and that he sat in one of the lounges at the right side- he was not to be ignored!

And then there was this insignificant, little fact he had learned when he had paid a visit to his castle, which surprisingly enough still existed (you never know what a horde of Death Eaters could do without having someone in charge). Bellatrix had shown up again. At least this was what Macnair claimed and as he had a slashed chest to prove it he was inclined to believe it.

Now, you're probably wondering why the Dark Lord wasn't jumping in joy that one of his most loyal servants had returned. Well, the answer is easy: because Dark Lords don't jump with joy!

And Voldemort actually had another reason not to be celebrating Bellatrix' return: Harry (it was always Harry these days). Bellatrix was unpredictable and, even he knew it, insane and she was totally obsessed with him. While that had been amusing in the beginning, it was certainly unhealthy to be obsessed with something that would never be yours and he was seriously worried how far Bellatrix would go to get him and respectively get rid of Harry.

"Tom", the melodious voice of his husband kept him from committing murder, "I'm sorry you had to wait, but Sirius was fussing because he couldn't find his brush and we had to turn over the whole room before he finally admitted that he might have left it at home..."

"I didn't fuss", Sirius, who had arrived with the werewolf, defended himself, "And if I did, I did it with very good reason. This isn't just a simple brush! It is the secret to my absolutely stunning hair. And I never leave the house without this brush!"

Harry rolled his eyes at him and slipped onto the bench next to Tom, who wrapped on arm around his waist at once. Sirius and Remus sat down next to him, the latter still trying to convince the first that the brush definitely hadn't been in their room and that he could get a new brush.

"So you spent the whole afternoon looking for a brush?", Voldemort raised one of his black, clearly-defined eyebrows at the three Gryffindors, "I guess it never occurred to you that it might have been helpful to use a Summoning Charm, did it?"

Harry boxed his arm indignantly: "Do you know how many brushes flew towards us? Sirius had three on top of the one he was missing, Remus had one, too, and then there were those four brushes we don't know who they belong to. So you better keep your sarcasm to yourself."

"I was just trying to find out if there was a reason you kept me waiting here for so long", Voldemort stated evenly.

"The world doesn't revolve around you", Harry replied angrily and, squirming out of Tom's embrace, stormed to the bathroom.

"Care to enlighten me what has got into Harry?", Voldemort asked the two Gryffindors, who seemed to find this highly amusing.

"That, my dear Voldemort, is called a mood swing", Sirius explained in a fatherly voice, "There are two things you have to remember about mood swings. First: They're generally not your fault, but if you don't apologise, you'll be considered an insensitive prat and will pay for it anyway. Second: Never ever tell a pregnant witch or in this case wizard that he's having mood swings or you'll be considered an insensitive prat and will pay for it."

"How do you know?", Voldemort asked too perplexed to get angry over the patronising tone.

"Lily, obviously", Remus said in a clipped tone, "James was more than a little concerned about her during her pregnancy and didn't want her all alone while he was working so we had to fill in."

He wasn't going to apologise for something Dark Lords usually do: kill people. There was nothing wrong with killing two annoying opponents, not at all, especially if you thought your own life was in danger. Every Dark Lord would have acted that way... So obviously he didn't say anything, biting back the scathing comment that had been on the tip of his tongue, and since Remus and Sirius had dived head-first into a brooding silence they were all rather relieved when Harry returned from the bathroom and once again snuggled into the Dark Lord the previous argument forgotten in favour of the all consuming pain and dizziness he was experiencing right now.

"Harry, are you okay?", he leaned over his trembling little lion concernedly and felt his forehead, "Salazar, how can you get a fever in less than two minutes?"

"I'm sorry", Harry whispered hoarsely and slumped even more, clutching to Tom's robe to keep upright, "It hurts."

"Shh, try to take deep breathes", Tom pressed Harry's head to his chest with his right hand while he shuffled through his pockets with the other hand, searching for Harry's medicine, "Here, can you swallow?", Harry made a valiant attempt to grasp the tiny bottle with his shaking hands, but as it became obvious that he was trembling too violently, Tom gently coaxed him to open his mouth and let the viscous liquid drip into his mouth, making encouraging noises as Harry swallowed painfully.

Harry's eyes where glistening with unshed tears, but there was no other indication that he was in pain. If one didn't know Harry, all they would see was that he was shivering and think he was cold. Tom wondered, how often he had missed the signs of pain before he learned to see through Harry's acting. He even seemed to smile lightly and his posture was straight once again and though he didn't look at them, he seemed to be fully aware of what was going on around him.

Tom gently began to massage Harry's abdomen with long, firm strokes and Harry relaxed slightly/It's okay, little one. You don't have to hide your pain. Only a few more minutes./

Harry turned to his side and slip one arm of his own around Tom's midsection, snuggling closer as the pain subsided, and purred appreciatively to the hand that now caressed his face.

"Good evening, what can I bring you, gentlemen?", he had almost lost himself in the sensation of the frail wizard in his arm as Madam Rosmerta finally reached their table, her notepad perched expectantly; Tom was sure she had winked at Sirius.

"I'd like a butterbeer and a Toast Hawaii, if it isn't too much of a problem", Sirius smiled up at her, she smiled back and Remus growled warningly, whereupon Sirius turned to smile at the werewolf and patted his knee consolingly.

"Pumpkin juice and scrambled eggs without pepper", Remus grumbled and Madam Rosmerta noted it down as well before she turned to Voldemort and Harry: "What can I bring you two?"

"Can I have a fruit tea, please?", Harry asked quietly, snuggling once again up to the Dark Lord as the witch nodded.

"Don't you want to eat anything, Harry?", he demanded concernedly, but Harry only shook his head slightly and he didn't bother to argue, "Well, then, a glass of firewhiskey and some cheese sandwiches, if you will."

Madam Rosmerta scribbled some more on her pad before she disappeared through the mass of tables and students to give their order to the kitchen and the bartender and once again silence reigned over their table.

"Must you drink that stuff?", Harry suddenly asked, looking up with half accusing, half pleading eyes.

"What stuff?", Tom asked honestly confused, since he wasn't drinking anything at all.

"Firewhiskey. Do you have to drink this stuff?", Harry repeated, still staring in his eyes.

/If you kiss me I might be persuaded not to consume 'this stuff' and let a perfectly good firewhiskey go to waste/, he offered with a predatory gleam in his eyes that didn't escape Harry's studying gaze/And this time I want a real kiss./

"Do you find it as annoying as I when he does that?", Sirius murmured to Remus, who nodded in reply and the both watched fascinated and a bit shocked as Harry slowly crawled completely into Voldemort's lap till he was sitting astride his legs and with the gained height easily lifted himself up just a little and timidly brushed his lips over the older man's (though at this point it is necessary to add that neither Sirius nor Remus had a very good view on what was going on, which frustrated the Animagus to no end and only Remus' firm grip kept him in his seat).

Harry wasn't sure what he should be doing, hell, he wasn't sure what he was doing. He had never kissed anyone like this before. Well, there was this one time with Cho, but she had started it and then the time Ron...better not think about it... and of course Tom himself, but it was always Tom who did, well, something. And of course, he kissed a lot of people on the cheek because he wanted them to know that he cared about them and because they enjoyed it and because he hoped they liked him as well and because... he had a lot of reasons. But pecking someone's cheek was completely different than what Tom expected of him and he was at a loss of what to do.

Why couldn't Tom just kiss him? That would be so much easier and in all honesty he didn't really mind, but Tom didn't move an inch only stared at him in slight amusement and anticipation. Harry took a deep breath (why, he wasn't sure, but at least he was doing something) and slowly moved his hands to rest on each side of Tom's head, bracing the muscles in his legs so that his head was on a comfortable level with Tom's and hesitantly pressed his lips to the older wizard's. When there was no noticeable reaction he slowly started to move his lips, nibbling Tom's bottom lip and gracing them with his tongue until he finally received an appreciative moan and two strong hands kept him in place while Tom's tongue darted out to explore Harry's mouth.

Still, just as Harry was blissfully submitting to Tom's guidance the tongue drew back after nudging Harry's own invitingly and Harry for lack of another idea followed it back into the other's mouth.

"Potter!", an outraged cry interrupted their little snogging session, "I'm going to kill you, Potter."

"I always like to hear that", Harry turned around, smirking slightly, coming face to face to Draco, who resembled a Weasley more than a Malfoy, "Oh, my, Draco, you look lovely."

"I look like a fucking Weasel", the former blond hissed and leaned over the table so that his now freckled nose was only inches away from Harry's, "I don't appreciate this kind of surprise, Potter."

"You certainly don't look like a weasel, Dracipoo, since weasels are rodents and you look decidedly human", Harry corrected him sweetly, "Besides, was it I who did this to you?"

"You had your wand in this, I'm sure", Draco complained.

He wondered briefly why he had bothered to plot revenge on the Dursleys with those two cretins, who had agreed all to eagerly not really bothering about the reason, but then he imagined the faces of those perverts when they received daily mail from now on and he thought it was well worth it. He has even bothered to warn Dudley so as not to hurt Harry unintentionally and make him regret the decision- if you could call it that- to tell them about the abuse.

"My magnificent hair is red, Potter, and I have freckles. The Weasley Twins are so going to pay for this."

"Nope, knew nothing of this", Harry laughed, "But tell me was there someone else in their shop..."

"Their brother", Draco complied, "Charlie."

"And did you like him?", Harry asked innocently, "He's cool, isn't he?"

"He's rather... alright", Draco murmured, "But we were not talking about him. You said they had a surprise for me. A nicesurprise. Do I look like a nice surprise to you?"

"You look like you should take a shower", Harry supplied, "And maybe then you'll see what my surprise for you was. Off you go!"

Draco looked ready to argue, but after looking down at his hands and finding freckles there, too, he decided that maybe a shower would do him good and strode out of the pub, leaving Blaise, also in Weasley costume, behind.

"Never knew he could be so oblivious", he murmured disbelievingly and Harry burst out laughing, "He's rather good-looking, though."

"Charlie?", Harry assured himself and the other boy nodded, "They match, don't you think?"

"We spent two hours in that stupid shop", Blaise rolled his eyes, "And Draco was definitely not interested in their products. Why did you chose him?"

"Charlie was always obsessed with dragons, it seemed only logical that he and Draco would hit it off", they shared a conspiratorial grin, "Want to join us for dinner?"

"No, I think not", Blaise got up again, "It's quite disturbing to know you look like a Weasley. I don't know how they cope with it. The shower will wash this off, won't it? ", Harry nodded slightly and Blaise let out a relieved sigh, "See you later, Harry", he fondly ruffled the other boy's hair.

"Yes, see you later, Blaise", Harry returned just as Madam Rosmerta brought their food and drinks.

I know I sound like a broken record, but PLEASE review!