Hello everyone! It's been quite a while. RL had a way of making me really busy these past months (I'll spare you the details) and I wanted to make sure that when I started posting again, I would not leave you on a cliffhanger for so long until the rest of the story. You see, it was doubly important that I could post the following chapters quickly after this one, because this chapter is the last chapter before the "final action" starts. Also, I just realised that my account here has stopped forwarding messages and reviews to my regular email account some time in September (leaving me to figure out the ending of my story without your precious support :( ), so I will be trying to settle the problem as soon as possible, but I'm deeply sorry if a message slips through without being answered. Feel free to send it back with a virtual smack at the back of my head to make sure I pay attention.

So, thank you to everyone who encouraged me so far in this story! I hope you guys haven't been too disappointed with the long absence and that you won't find it too difficult to get back in the story. To help you with that, I will give you a list of what is still pending in the story :

-We haven't found out what was up with the paper planes.

-Harry and Snape are not done with the ward preventing dark magic intoxication and someone might have stolen their plans for it in the meanwhile.

-We don't know the name of Narcissa's future daughter (detail to make you remember that aspect of the story)

-We don't know which of the Horcruxes were destroyed by Moody in the last chapter and we don't know how that will affect Marvolo's sanity and his relationship with Harry.

-We don't know what the heck is up with creepy Crouch and his fixation with Harry.

-We kinda know who was manipulating the House-Elves that captured Draco oh so long ago, but there hasn't been any consequences to that person yet.

-We don't know what the Weasley twins will do/have done to Moody's cause as a revenge for having cause the destruction of part of the Ministry with modified Muggle tech.

-We don't know if or when the brewing war with France will start and we don't know for sure why or by whom Harry was poisoned on Marvolo's birthday ball.

Ok, so, quite a list! Some of it was superfluous, but I hoped it would help you remember the story better without having to go back to read the last ten chapters.

Also, exceptionally (and largely because of the size of the list I made), I have decided to put the replies to the guest reviews at the bottom of the chapter. That doesn't mean I value you in less (on the contrary!), but I wanted to take the space to reply adequately without making everyone else having to scroll down for two pages before they find the story. I hope this isn't a bother to you.

Disclaimer : I do not own Harry Potter. Also, the spell-check here seems to have stopped working for some reason, so there might be more mistakes than usual. I apologise in advance for that.


Chapter 49 : The Dark Lord's Fortress, 21st of February, Decline

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," said the bushy-haired Mudblood in her usual patronising voice as she hurried out of the Great Hall. Her pathetic boyfriend trailed behind her.

That in itself was a very usual sight, and one that wouldn't have warranted a second glance in their direction. The only difference, however, was that said boyfriend looked positively infuriated at his girlfriend's reply.

Trouble in paradise? This could be interesting, thought Draco, catching Blaise's eye as he realised that the dark-skinned boy had spotted the same anomaly. Blaise jerked his head slightly in the direction of the doors and lifted a curious eyebrow at him. Draco nodded discreetly.

They both rose and headed out together, carrying on small talk about a new Ministry law his father had proposed to the Wizengamot the day before to accelerate the recruitment and training of the new "militia of concerned citizens for a safer future". Blaise was a careful individual who always weighted his words, even in such situations where the conversation was only a cover. He was not a born politician in the sense that he didn't have the right sort of leadership for the job, or the inclination for social networking needed for a career in politics. But he was watchful, analytic and cunning. All things that made him a good Slytherin and the perfect "eyes" for the Dark Lord within Hogwarts. From the limited information he got from his father, he knew that Blaise had unearthed a conspiracy among the older students when he was in his first years at Hogwarts and brought it to the Dark Lord, at great personal risk. He had held a certain status among his peers since then, rivalling with Draco for the control of the Slytherin House. The official relationship between them was cordial, however, since they both recognised how different their personalities and goals were. They had even paired up in Potions in the past years, knowing that they were both the most talented students of their class by far. They also partnered sometimes for covert missions such as the one currently ongoing.

Their targets were moving fast, heading obviously for the Gryffindor tower. It seemed that Weasley had not deflated since they fled the Great Hall.

"Mione, I think you are bloody crazy about this. If you'd just stop for a second and think about what I said..." ranted the ginger boy.

"No, Ron! That was clearly a breech of privacy! When I showed them to you, it wasn't so that you go shout it under the roofs for everybody to hear!" raged the Mudblood, shedding quickly her earlier cool behaviour.

Draco shot a glance and a lifted eyebrow at Blaise. He didn't know what Macmillan had shown the Weasel, but if it was of a private nature, he really didn't want to witness an argument about their sexual lives. He shuddered internally at the image that sprung to his mind at the thought.

Blaise frowned at him and shook his head, indicating that he wished to listen further.

"I didn't shout it to everyone! I just asked for help for you! Just like last time with the House-Elves, right? And turns out I was right to do it, considering the surprise search Snape launched through the school. Muggle drugs ? Even I don't buy that ! " shouted the Weasel, spitting and spluttering in his agitation. How the Mudblood could stand him, Draco didn't know, but he rather thought they deserved each other. When he heard Weasley mention the House-Elves, however, he felt something freeze inside him. Could they be talking about...

"Because! I hadn't had the time to examine them enough to make sure it was what I thought! You had no business busting in and "taking charge"...

-You always do it for me! " protested Ginger spawn, interrupting Beaver girl.

The bossy Know-it-all drew back, stung. The Weasel certainly had a point there.

"When I take decisions for you, it's because I know better in certain situations. You are hopeless at some things, Ronald. Without me, you wouldn't have had nearly as many OWLs as you did. But..." she began, deflating slightly. "You know, Ron, I never pretended to be a better witch than you are a wizard. You clearly are a better flyer, not that it's difficult to beat me on that, and a better strategist. And you know me, I need you to keep me grounded, or else I will just drown myself in books and forget about the outside world..." cajoled the bushy haired thing with a sickly sweet tone that made him want to vomit. Draco shot a pleading look to Blaise. He couldn't bear much more Gryffindor watching without getting a close-up view of his dinner again. Blaise just shook his head obstinately. Damn him.

"And that's why I stepped in, Mione. I wanted to be your Merlin in colourful robes," said the Ginger Atrocity. It was sickening. Something clicked in Draco's mind, however. The blood traitor had said "Mione". What did it make him think of? And he mentioned House-Elves before, as well, didn't he? When they had interrogated his House-Elf after Draco's capture by the Rebels, it had said that its human contact was a certain "Oninny". Considering the elven way to distort names, the two names were excessively close. As far as he was concerned, what he had heard was enough to bring down the Aurors on the Mudblood. He still had nightmares from his short sojourn at the Rebel Camp and, although they had abided somewhat after its destruction, it had always bothered him that they hadn't managed to find the person responsible for his capture. Draco felt anger bubble in his chest. How dare she twist his family's Elves against them because of an idiotic desire for revenge for petty teasing? Because that is the only reason he could think of. Granted, he had, over the years, taken a delicious pleasure in mocking her and her idiotic boyfriend, but he didn't think it warranted Unforgivables and torture at the hands of the demented leader of the rebels. Despite everything, he managed a wicked smile at the thought of the consequences Dobby's betrayal had brought on his fellow Elves. How that must have pained the foolish Mudblood. But it hadn't been enough. Draco wanted retribution. Revenge. And it was now within wand's reach. He caressed the stick of hawthorn wood in anticipation.

But then, Blaise gripped his arm firmly to discourage him for acting on the spur of the moment.

"Fuck you, Blaise! Let me go and I'll give her what she deserves for attacking a Malfoy!" he whispered at his annoying ally.

Blaise only tightened his grip on his wand arm warningly.

"My father..." he begun automatically.

"Need I remind you who has the highest rank between us two?" hissed Blaise in a low voice, glancing significantly at his left forearm.

Draco clenched his jaw in frustration. He didn't even have a rank of his own. His only power currently stemmed from his father's. And, considering how the Dark Lord despised him, his best bet for a position of power was to stay in Harry's good graces and hope that Harry himself wouldn't fall out of favour.

He deliberately took in a deep breath and relaxed his grip on his wand.

"Good," said Blaise. "Now that you've regained control of yourself, listen to me. I know you think you just had confirmation of the culprit in the House-Elf Treason, but there is something more going on here. If we wait and observe, we might be able to catch them both, plus the person Weasley went to 'for help'. This is bigger than getting your revenge. So, no rushing in like a Gryffindor, understood?" ordered his colleague in a firm voice.

Draco internally winced at the reprimand. He was no Gryffindor. But he did have a certain tendency for impulsivity. He forced himself to think rationally.

"We need to tell the Headmaster about it," Draco said, trying to make it sound more like an order than a suggestion.

Blaise shook his head in answer.

"No need to. I'll report directly to the Dark Lord. My next briefing is coming up soon anyway," he commented casually, seemingly unfazed by the routine appointment with the Leader of Britain. Blaise's mask of serenity was not good enough to fool Draco, however. The only person who really was at ease in the presence of the Dark Lord was Harry.

As such, it was curious that Blaise didn't want to unload the delicate task on Severus's shoulders. Hogwarts was their shared responsibility, after all, and Severus was an Inner Circle Death Eater, so Blaise should report to him, in theory... unless he wanted to show up Severus by bringing his conclusion in before the Headmaster... or unless the Dark Lord did not trust Severus completely and Blaise was reporting on his superior as well.

The endless possibilities and implications were whirling in Draco's mind. The limited insight on Death Eaters affairs that his father occasionally gave him really weren't enough for him to get a clear picture of the situation. He couldn't wait to be out of Hogwarts and build his own network of contacts and allies. In that aspect, the brewing war with France was a golden opportunity for him. It would allow him plenty of opportunities to show his value and earn himself a spot in the Dark Lord's ranks.

"It's too late anyway, now. It's already gone! Out of my hands! Bam! So, why don't you just forget about it all? If you want, you can say that it's my fault if it all ends up badly. Alright?" appeased the Weasel. Draco shot a look at them just in time to see the Mudblood lift up her head, sigh, nod and snuggle up to her man, all anger forgotten. It seems like the Ginger-head's pitiful performance was enough to satisfy her. He shuddered at the thought of Astoria being so...pliable.

At long last, Blaise send him a signal, indicating that they were to retreat to the dungeons. They moved silently until they reached the hidden passageway behind the third set of armour. The door closed and, now alone in the spiralling wooden staircase descending toward the dungeons, Draco let some of his frustration out. His repressed angry magic made the steps rattle as he clenched his fists as tightly as he could. If he ever needed a confirmation that Blood-traitors and Mudbloods were scum at the surface of this Earth, this spied conversation surely would have been sufficient. Such insolence! Such careless disrespect for the order in society! Everything he has seen was disgusting; down to how demonstrative those two ugly specimens were in public.

He forced himself to calm down when Blaise laid an appeasing hand on his shoulder. It was humiliating enough that Zabini had been there to witness the slip in his mask, he would not add a display of uncontrolled Magic to the stain.

"You need not worry, Malfoy. In due time, they will pay for their crimes against Magic and against your person," reassured the youngest in the Death Eater ranks.

Draco nodded, momentarily satisfied. They would pay. If needed, he'd personally make sure of it.

.

(o0o0o)

The same morning, Slytherin's Fortress

I was aroused from my slumber by a short curse.

"Fuck," said a voice I knew well, but one that wasn't frequently used for swearing.

I blinked tiredly and squinted at the man sitting next to me. I frowned at what I saw. Something was wrong.

Marvolo was sitting there, crossed-legs on the bed, looking down and frowning at his hands on his lap. But what was weird was that there was a chunk of long dark brown hair in his hands. And it wasn't a neatly chopped off strand or anything like that. It was weaved through his fingers as if he had just passed his hands through his hair and it had come off...

I glanced up to his head. There was hair missing.

"What happened?" I asked him, disoriented. Nobody could lose their hair that quickly. It made me think of Muggle people suffering from cancer who had those extreme treatments that made them bald. Could Wizards have cancer? Could Magic cure it? But, even if it was that...it didn't explain why his nose had changed as well...it had become, smaller, somehow. It was like, at a first glance, nothing in his face had changed, but if you looked closer, a lot of little details were different, like blurred. His pupils had become somewhat less rounded, his skin was a bit paler, his cheeks were a bit gaunter. He looked...less healthy, a bit less human, in a way.

"What do you think happened?" he bit out harshly. I thought back on the fight of yesterday, and how he had acted as his sanity was slipping. I wondered if he still felt somewhat misbalanced today, despite having reabsorbed (or at least, I thought that's what happened) the Locket the day before.

"I thought the Locket would be sufficient to compensate for whichever Horcrux was destroyed..." I ventured, scooting closer to him, seeking to comfort him, even if I knew he wouldn't accept it if I was too obvious about it.

When he closed his eyes and sighed, I knew I had managed to help him to calm down at least marginally.

"It would probably have been sufficient had only one Horcrux been destroyed," he stated, as if he hadn't just told me that everything was a lot worse than I thought.

"Two, are you sure?" I couldn't help but ask him.

He glared at me angrily. Wow, his mood was less stable than usually too...

"I think I would know if two of my soul pieces were destroyed!" he hissed.

"Right, of course, that's not what I meant. I wanted to ask how he managed to get two at the same time," I explained. "Aren't they all hidden in different places?"

"Of course they are, but I think that this mongrel had gotten the first out some time ago and waited until he had two to destroy them because he knew it would alert me to his goal. Maybe he even has a third and intends to manipulate me with it. I wouldn't put it past him," he seethed.

Moody could have three Horcruxes?

"Does he have Nagini?" I asked, panicking slightly because if he had, it meant that he was close by and that I was probably the last one remaining.

Marvolo paused, looked at me closely and shook his head after a moment.

"No, she's sunbathing in the backyard, but I'll make sure to tell her never to leave the safety of the wards, just in case," he reassured me. How many of them did he make? Weren't they supposed to be this really rare and dangerous thing? And he has more than five?

"Do you think Moody knows where we live and will try to attack us directly?" I asked him. When I left the Camp, they only had a vague idea of where the Fortress was situated, but I might not have been privy to all the details about it.

"I don't know what his plan for Nagini is, but it wouldn't surprise me if he lures you out with an hostage. It would be a typical, classic strategy and one that I hope you won't fall prey to, knowing your 'noble' tendencies," he warned, narrowing his eyes at me.

I frowned and thought about it. If someone I loved was trapped with Moody, I wouldn't want to leave them with him, that was for sure. I would probably be able to get out of whatever trap he set for me, but he knew my style of fighting just as much as I knew his. In a duel between Moody and me, I wondered who would win.

"I can't guarantee you that I won't try to rescue someone I care for if a situation like that happened, but," I lifted a hand to delay the coming reproach. "If it does happen, I'll make sure to tell you before I go, or at least, make sure you know where I'm going, okay? That's the best I can offer at the moment."

Marvolo looked at me carefully.

"I suppose that is all I can hope for, coming from you..." he trailed off, looking back down at his hands full of hair silently. They disappeared without a perceptive move on his part and he got up as if nothing had happened.

.

(28th of February)

A week later, he was completely bald.

The silence between us was heavy. He had continued to busy himself with the upcoming war and I could barely talk to him. I had tried to ask him where was the remaining Horcrux (or Horcruxes) originally, to go check if it was still there, but he refused to tell me. He just buried himself into his work, sending his instructions via owls and House-elves, rarely leaving the Fortress, and never without a glamour.

I didn't know what to think of it, honestly. On one hand, it was sad to see a man of his stature care so much about how he looked and the impression he made on people. On the other, I understood that he couldn't look the part of the invincible leader while resembling a sick Muggle, or a weird snake-hybrid like he used to. Not that it was that bad, really. His face hadn't changed so much and I was beginning to get used to his bald head. I couldn't say that I preferred how it was at the moment, but I didn't mind it so much either. He was still the same person. He was still brilliant and charismatic and intense in everything that he did. Except that he now had nearly unmanageable mood swings.

The weirdest thing, I had decided one day as I left for a meeting with Severus, were the looks he sometimes sent me when I had to go out. It wasn't jealously, per se, because he went out of the Fortress just as much as I did and even more usually. But it was somehow...disconcerting. Like the order of the universe had tilted and I didn't know when or why it had happened.

One day, when I came back from a meeting and entered the Fortress' library, he had lifted an eyebrow (which he still had, along with the rest of his body hair, mercifully) as if he was surprised I had bothered to come back at all.

Then he spotted the paper I had in my hands, containing the new information I had gotten from Severus' contacts. I gave them to him, waiting to see what his genius brain would make of it. I felt like one of his servants who had just come to hand in my report as I was standing in front of the desk waiting for his conclusion.

"Where did you get those?" he asked finally.

"I met someone who gave them to me. I think the information is genuine, but one of the conditions I had to fulfill in order to get it was to swear I wouldn't tell anyone who this contact was," I explained succinctly.

The Dark Lord hummed distractedly in answer, leafing through the papers.

"What do you make of this?" he asked finally, after a while.

I drew closer to him to peer at the papers from over his shoulder. That was the closest I had been to him for the past week.

"Well...it looks like a house..." I guessed, pointing at the rectangular-shaped building on the graphic.

Marvolo huffed a disagreeing sound.

"It looks like a cage," he stated, pointing out the weird combination of walls and gaps. "Or a labyrinth."

I squinted at the approximated drawing. It wasn't a work of art. It looked like my contact had barely glimpsed at a blueprint and drew it from her memory (I said her because I was pretty sure it was from one of the three girls) as best as she could, but that she hadn't understood everything. For instance, I could see on one of the walls a beginning of a warding equation, but the only thing I got was that it was for containing something. That was probably where the Dark Lord got his conclusion.

Something about what he said tickled me, though. Why would the Rebels build a cage? And a cage for what, or for whom? Normally, caged were for...

"Animals..." I whispered, feeling as if I was just at the brink of understanding something.

Marvolo narrowed his eyes at me, looking deep in thought.

"Didn't Lucius complain about zoos at some point?" he asked, getting warmer to the point that was hovering just out of reach of my consciousness.

"Yeah, something about animals escaping the Muggle zoo in London, maybe?" I suggested, although it felt like I was getting colder.

We thought in silence for a while, before he sighed impatiently and declared:

"We won't find it if we think about it too much. Let's rest on the question. It will probably come to us in the night."

At the mention of the night, I felt a little thrill of eagerness. In the past week, we had always gone to sleep at different times. He had only joined me in bed long after I had gone to sleep and gotten up before I had woken up. It was as if he was evading me. The thought was worrying me. Was he getting bored of me now? Was he perhaps bitter that I forced him into reabsorbing the Locket? Was he just too busy to pass time with me?

I was left with plenty of questions and uncertainties, as always, and he wasn't forthcoming in his reassurance. Any attempt I had made to talk about the changes he was undergoing had been harshly shut down. And with his current temper, I didn't really know how far I could push him before he snapped at me and maybe even curse me.

Which is why, this time, when he said that we could go to sleep, I felt really pleased. Perhaps he wasn't going to kick me out of his bed or his life, after all.

I followed him to our rooms, trying to shoot him suggestive glances on the way there but probably missing the target pathetically. It wasn't as if I had had to try hard to get him in bed before. I never had much success in my manipulations of him either way, to be honest. He did what he wanted to do, when he wanted to. I could only try to entice him for some long missed action tonight.

When he reached the rooms, he started his usual routine to go to bed. A few spells for cleaning his teeth, changing into more comfortable clothes, getting into bed, that sort of things. I disrobed and went through my own routine quickly and settled eagerly in bed.

He barely shot me a glance as he lied down with his back to me. I looked at the pale expanse of skin before me, wanting to touch it, but not really sure of how he would receive it. In the end, I waited until he had shut the lights to slide up next to him and wrap an arm around him from the back. His torso was larger than mine, however, so I ended up in a not very comfortable position with my elbow bent in an awkward angle. When I moved up to bury my head in his neck like he sometimes did, he just said in a curt voice:

"Go to sleep, Harry."

I sighed to myself and rolled on my back, looking at the ceiling.

I somehow felt like he was angry with me for the whole thing. Maybe, if I had been quicker with the Locket, he would have had time to go and catch Moody. As it was, when he 'woke up', it was already too late and when he got back his control on himself, Moody had already been far gone. Or so he said.

He had admitted that he thought the second Horcrux was robbed and destroyed that day. He didn't say how or where it used to be, but he said that he had probably given a cue to Moody when he had gone to check on his Horcruxes last Christmas. At least now I knew where he had gone when I was slowly loosing my mind at Malfoy Manor.

I tried to think of the problem we had just now, and dig up anything I could remember about animals and a zoo. I was no closer to find the solution, but I guessed I could go and see Lucius about it the day after.

Nodding to myself, I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep, trying to forget about my lover who seemed miles away from me even if I could feel some of his warmth bleed over my side of the bed. At least, he hadn't kicked me out. Yet.

.

As usual, Marvolo was already long gone when I woke up. I sighed to myself in resignation, heading to take a shower, and resolved to talk it out with him that night. He barely acknowledged me when I went to tell him I was going to the Ministry to talk to Lucius. He just said he hadn't reached any more conclusions on his side, but that he would continue to analyse the information he got the day before.

I felt slightly surprised that he hadn't pushed more than that to know where I got it from and whether we could trust my source, but he had this tendency of letting me keep all the secrets I wanted because he thought he already knew what they were. I didn't know if he had the right idea this time, but at least, I didn't have to lie about it and feel bad because I was keeping something from him.

I Flooed to the Ministry to ask Lucius about the information. I could probably have just called, but it had been a while since I had seen him and I didn't know how much time our discussion would last. When I arrived in the Minister's Office, however, only Crouch was there, sitting in a chair in front of the desk.

He turned his head to look at the new arrival and got up to his feet swiftly to come to my assistance as I was picking myself up in front of the fireplace. By now, I was pretty much healed from the whole poison ordeal, despite all the running I had done about a week ago. I wasn't sure if I appreciated his gesture or not. While it acknowledged that I was weak and had to be helped up, I hadn't seen him in nearly two months, so he probably had no idea how my recovery was going. It was sort of nice of him to try to help me, especially for someone who looked like he valued strength so much.

In the end, he just ended up plastered against me awkwardly grasping my elbow as I was lifting myself up. I felt him shiver as I rubbed against him involuntarily on my way up.

Even once I was up, he stayed awfully close to me. So close that I could smell him. He smelt like freshly cut grass. It wasn't a bad smell, overall, but it was much more innocent and harmless than the Dark Lord's. I could see every pore of his skin at this short distance. He seemed to value the 'stubble' look for his beard. I preferred Marvolo's freshly shaved one.

His straw-coloured hair reached just short of his shoulders, but he had shorter bangs that fell nearly into his eyes. I reflected at that moment that I definitely favoured dark hair over fair one. Although, blond hair could be interesting, as long as it was a bit more like Draco's hair and less like Crouch's.

When Barty's tongue came out of his mouth and darted across his lips quickly, I was brought out of my reflection. The lack of sex must be getting to my head if I was checking him out, of all men.

I stepped away from him and made a show of looking around the office.

"Lucius isn't there?" I asked him.

"He'll come back in a minute, he had 'important things to take care of'. Some errand or another for the Dark Lord, I think," he said, mimicking quotations marks in the air and sounding slightly derisive. I didn't care much for his tone, to be honest, and neither for the step he took in my direction as he spoke.

I refused to back away from him. It was a pride thing. I wouldn't let myself be intimidated by that guy when I had survived months in the company of a Dark Lord. I didn't know why he would even try, knowing that.

So, well, the result of my attitude was that I was standing straight, as tall and intimidating I could look from my slightly smaller stature, my head lifted in challenge when he was looking down at me, a smug smile on his much too close face.

I told myself that if he even tried to make a move to kiss me, I'd give him a taste of my fist and of my best curses.

He didn't. Instead, he just tilted his head and whispered in my ear:

"I'm surprised you can still leave his proximity. He has you under a tight leash, hasn't he?"

I frowned at him, uncomprehendingly. I didn't think that was the case, but I had to admit that I was not exactly flying with my own wings at the moment.

"I heard about how unstable you have become without him. And yet, he doesn't let you take your distance, does he? So much for his care. He had no shame, ensnaring you this way. I am not surprised. He is, after all, The Dark Lord and my Master..." he said in a low voice before lifting a hand. Thinking he was about to make his move, I slapped it away before he could place it on me and took a step back.

Crouch shot a glance at the door, from where we could hear steps approaching. He spoke again, this time louder.

"Not so handsome now, that lover of yours, isn't he? I bet he can't even satisfy you anymore...well, you know where I am if you ever need me, don't you?" he said, shooting me a wink right when a stony-faced Lucius entered the room, preventing me from answering honestly to the arrogant bastard.

So what if Marvolo and I hadn't had sex, or did anything like that in more than a week? I had gone longer without! I wasn't about to jump on the first idiot available just because we might be having relationship problems!

But, I had bigger fish to fry than that fool of Crouch, so I let it rest after a calming breath and turned to Lucius, who was the man I wanted to see here, after all.

"Lucius, I have a question. I was wondering in which context you were talking about animals and zoos the other day," I started.

"Oh, so, I take it you had the time to look at the paper plane messages in the end? Do you really favour the zoo explanation?" he asked while he moved some papers around on his desk.

"The...oh. The messages, of course! The house for a cage, the Death Eaters for the animals...they probably want to trap the Death Eaters in that place! Now we only have to find where it is!" I exclaimed, getting animated as the link between Snape's information and the paper planes dawned on me.

Lucius and Crouch just looked at me in silence, waiting for my explanation. Sometimes it showed how good minions they were.

"Right, so, my theory is that whoever send you those messages was trying to tell you that Moody was planning this huge trap for all the Death Eaters who received a message! And maybe the Dark Lord too! And now, I've gotta go tell him!" I explained briefly before heading back to the Fortress as quickly as I could.

"Wait, did you find out what the one I burnt said?" asked Lucius, but I had already given my destination by Floo so I didn't have time to answer before it whisked me away.

I landed with another thud in front of the fireplace and picked myself up alone this time before I hurried to go see Marvolo.

I found him still in the Library, working on some important project as always. I practically bounced up to him in my eagerness to let him know what I had discovered.

When I got closer to him, he stiffened suddenly and looked up at me angrily.

"Well, aren't you chirper now that you are back from seeing Lucius. What happened there, I wonder?" he asked in a biting tone that was entirely unwarranted, as far as I was concerned.

I paused, my smile vanishing at his mood. He had been less patient and more aggressive the last few days. He was probably still feeling unbalanced and worried about the destruction of some of his Horcruxes. Even if he had good reason to feel on the edge, it was useless to take it out on me, in any case.

"Er, well, I talked to Lucius and turns out the zoo thing was in the letters your Death Eaters received, so it think that whoever sent them was trying to tell us of a sort of plan to capture and trap your highest ranked Death Eaters," I explained carefully, uncertain of his extreme mood.

"And what else did you do?" he insisted in a controlled voice, stroking the feather of his quill and looking a bit too indifferent now.

I tried to think of what I could have forgotten but came up short.

"I don't know. What have I forgotten?" I asked, puzzled.

He merely studied me impassively. It made me want to squirm under his stare like a guilty child. I didn't know what he wanted me to say though, so I just waited for him to come out with it.

"What, no teary admissions? No pleading denial? I confess myself disappointed," he mocked unfairly, his fingers twitching reflectively around the quill.

I felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead.

What is he on about? I wondered uncertainly.

"Maybe it would help if I knew what you were talking about..." I ventured. It might not have been my brightest move, or so I realised when the Dark Lord suddenly slid out of his seat and stalked closer to me until he was but a breath away. He looked like a dangerous predator and it gave me all sorts of displaced thoughts in this tense moment. I blamed the lack of sex of the last few days.

He sniffed the air around disdainfully and sneered at me.

"You forgot your customary shower," he stated.

I gaped at him. All of this was because he thought I smelled? Gods, he could have just told me to go take one if he thought it was so bad it warranted such a disgusted face!

I bent my head and tried to smell my armpits as discreetly as I could when he was still looking at me like that, waiting for my answer.

I honestly didn't smell so bad. I knew that sometimes, you couldn't really smell yourself as well as the others, but all I got was a faint odour of the shampoo I had used that morning...but what if I hadn't cleaned well after the wank I had in the shower and he could smell it? He had extremely sharp senses, after all, as we had established on his birthday nearly two months ago.

What? A man has his needs. I am perfectly entitled to self-pleasuring when he doesn't look in the mood at all and is avoiding me, alright? I defended myself in my head as the shame involuntarily crept through me.

"I don't see why I have to justify my actions to you..." I started defensively.

His face briefly turned red in rage, before he took on a neutral mask again. Or well, a disdainful and cold mask, at least.

"Why indeed. Wasn't it you who said the other day that we were 'in a relationship', or some emotional drivel of the kind?" he pointed out.

"Come on! You might have been born in the 30s or something, but nowadays, you know, if the person with whom you are don't pay attention to you, you can, you know, 'take matters in your own hands', alright?" It was mortifying that I had to justify wanking, of all things. Sheesh, wasn't I allowed any privacy at all? He was as bad as Remus with his 'smell thing'.

"I didn't think that the concept of loyalty had changed so much since my time, as you so helpfully point out."

"Loyalty? Seriously? You can't reproach me something like that! I bet you do it all the time too! You just do it more sneakily and I can't find out about it."

He sneered at me disdainfully again, as if I was the most despicable thing he had a chance to see. Mood swings or not, he was laying it on thick, I thought.

"I do not, for your information. And I think I was within my rights to ask the same of you."

"Never? Not even when you left for a few days before Christmas? Or before we started getting serious about it? I mean, I used to do it all the time then, you were driving me crazy with your flirting and teasing and all," I revealed unthinkingly.

"Because the logical conclusion if you were lusting after me then was to...how did you put it again, take matters in your own hands? Were you not a virgin, then, when I took you for the first time?" he questioned, infuriated.

Did he really count wanking as cheating? Or as not being a virgin? I had heard stuff about how at the beginning of the century, Muggles thought that masturbation could make one blind...could he think something along those lines too?

"Er...well, it depends of your definition of virginity, I guess?" I conceded. I had even tried putting fingers inside myself before I actually had sex to give myself an idea of how it would feel like...did he count that too? As what? Loosing your virginity to yourself? That was a bit fucked up.

"Just like your definition of loyalty is relative as well, isn't it? I'm beginning to think that I had pegged your wrong, Harry Potter. You are far less honourable than I thought," he declared before sweeping out of the room dramatically. And I, of course, followed him out, frustrated at him.

"What now? I hadn't done it in so long! I didn't even know things like that bothered you. I just needed some release, you know...we haven't been together for like a week! I would be a saint if I could resist that long without even thinking about it," I pointed out self-righteously.

The Dark Lord huffed angrily.

"Yes, of course, why would I let the catastrophic loss of pieces of my soul damper the fun you can have in our bedroom? Has it not occurred to you that perhaps such an event was not exactly conducive to sexual excitement?" he pointed out, making me feel bad now.

"Of course I've thought of it! That's why I didn't press for it or anything. That's why, you know, I did it. I dealt with my...urges...by myself, so that I don't bother you with it," I tried to explain, but really, who would have thought that the Dark Lord, of all people, had any type of objection against masturbation? It wasn't as if sperm was sacred to Magic or something like that...And if 'wasted' sperm were a blasphemy for him, he would be riddled with guilt over his sexual orientation all the time too.

"Indeed, urges. How could I forget about the needs of my seventeen years old lover when I was struggling to keep sane and mend the new soul piece inside of me, I wonder?" he asked sarcastically. That was the first time this week that he even acknowledged that something was wrong with him.

"I wasn't saying that you needed to do anything about it! That's the whole point of it! And would you just look at me when I'm trying to explain something to you" I shouted, pulling my hair out in frustration.

He suddenly stopped in the middle of the corridor, and spun on his feet to face me. He looked even more disgusted at me now than earlier. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to make him turn around after all.

"Alright, if you want to explain, then tell me this: Why Crouch, of all people? Was it simply convenient? Was he just the first one who offered? How long has passed since the last time you've seen him?" he asked, still seething.

I frowned at him. What had Crouch to do with wanking?

"Er...I saw him today for the first time since your birthday? You know, when he nearly killed me with his new spell and I saw him at your ball?" I answered hesitantly to the only question I had understood, all the while wondering if we were talking about the same thing in the end.

He looked frozen in place for a while, before he stepped closer to me. I backed away from his suddenly murderous facial expression.

"And why today, of all times, I wonder? Oh wait, I know. Your lover has become so fucking ugly you wouldn't touch him until the lights are closed, and even then, only reluctantly. Oh yes, I understand, how woeful your situation is and how completely understandable of you it is to not be satisfied with me now that I don't exactly fit your beauty requirements, right?" he hissed, looking bitter at his admission.

Was it was he was worried about, then? That I didn't find him attractive enough to be with him anymore? He wasn't ugly now...alright, the baldness was striking, but it wasn't that bad, and I certainly didn't care enough about appearances to leave him because he had lost some hair and was going through a difficult moment! I loved him, for Merlin's sake!

"I don't think you're ugly... and I still desire you...Do you really think I'm just with you because of how you look? After all this time?" I asked him.

"To be honest, I'm not sure what to think of you after today's revelations," he huffed, his disgust for me back in his face.

"What? Because of a wank?" I asked, incredulous. Was he really going to end our relationship because of one effing, harmless wank in the shower? It was ridiculous!

"I do not wish to know the details of your betrayal," he said, sneering at me before turning away again.

"Betrayal! Betrayal! I can't believe you! You somehow manage to smell it once on me and you want to call everything quits? Isn't that a bit...extreme?" I challenged.

"I told you that you were mine and that I expected complete loyalty from my lovers. I think I deserve at least that much for the privilege you have of being with me," he revealed haughtily.

I wouldn't even address the lack of modesty implied in his statement, but it irked me that he faulted me and made all that drama for something so simple.

"All my life, I have only ever wanted you. The first wet dream I had was of you, the first kiss I got, I was thinking of you. I can't even tell whether I'm gay or bisexual, because you're the only person I have ever really been attracted to! What more do you want?" I pleaded after him, getting a bit desperate.

When he didn't turn around, or even pause, the part I had tried to keep to myself for so long was just wrenched out of me.

"I love you, dammit!" I shouted at him, my fists clenched at my side, shaking. That made him stop, or maybe it was the feeling of my magic swelling and swirling with my agitation and filling in the span of corridor between us.

"And yes, before you say it, yes, I masturbated in the shower this morning, but I don't see what's the big deal about it! I was even thinking of you while I was doing it! I was just wishing you'd open the freaking door and join me in or even that I'd get to touch you at last for the first time in days without being told off! And when I was fantasising about you, I was thinking of how you look right now! I don't care about your hair, alright? Or about your nose, or your pupils, or whatever! You could become the ugliest person in the world that I'd still love you, because you'd still be you. But I won't deal with that sort of judgmental looks from you because of something so harmless" I spat out, feeling completely drained by my tirade.

He turned around slowly, still impassive.

"I only have one question, then. What were you doing with Crouch today?" he asked, confusing the hell out of me. Well, I wasn't expecting him to return the sentiment, but I didn't think he'd talk about that creep, of anyone.

"Er...I went to see Lucius at the Ministry to talk about the Rebel plan and the animal thing we had forgotten about, and he was there when I arrived. He helped me get up after I had a bad Floo landing and then he said some stuff...oh, yes, he had the gall of making an outright overture, seriously! As if I'd ever cheat on you, let alone with him! He's out of his mind!" I exclaimed, remembering the idiot suddenly.

"That's not what you were saying a few minutes ago," he pointed out, still serious.

"What was I saying, a few minutes ago? You mean, the whole, blown out of proportion argument we just had about me wanking? I mean...not that I don't respect the decades in which you grew up or something, but you know...masturbating isn't really...a big deal in my head," I said, shrugging. "I really don't get it when you say it's a betrayal of our relationship. It's not as if I was even fantasising about anybody else while I was doing it either...and, you know...maybe if you explained to me why you think that wanking while the other one isn't there is like cheating, I'd understand and try not to do it again without talking to you about it?" I suggested hesitantly, trying to compromise. Relationships were supposed to be based on compromises, weren't they?

Marvolo just stood there, looking puzzled, then he scrutinised me for a while and then his eyes became unfocussed as if he was thinking intensely about something.

After a while, he just barked out a laugh. I didn't know whether to be relieved or offended. I didn't think the situation was funny.

"You mean to tell me that throughout this whole discussion, you were defending your right to masturbate?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes! I mean...'my right to' is a bit of an intense way to put it, but yes, I don't think I deserve to be vilified and looked at in disgust just because of that," I stated firmly.

He just laughed again.

I was beginning to lean toward the offended side now. But then something in his phrasing made me pause.

"What? What did you think I was talking about?" I asked him.

When he controlled his chuckling, he just walked back to me and passed an arm around my shoulders. I leaned in, grateful for his contact that I had sorely missed, even if I was still a bit miffed about his attitude.

"Harry, I think I should apologise for jumping to conclusions. You came back happier than you had looked in so long, practically radiating energy and you were positively stinking of Crouch, as if you had rubbed yourself all over him and I confessed I thought you might have cheated on me, a belief which you only reinforced with your guilty looks and poor defense. And when you started justifying your behaviour, to me it sounded like you had just confessed that this hadn't been a one time occurrence and that you saw nothing wrong with it," he explained.

"What? You thought I'd cheat on you? Why?" I asked him, uncomprehending. The thought had never even come to my mind, honestly.

"Why would I think that? Because I'm possessive and slightly paranoid, in case you hadn't noticed," he answered self-deprecatingly. "I should have known you were far too noble to do anything of the kind. I will admit that things...have not been easy this week for me and that I have let certain of my less... attractive traits of character dictate my actions lately. Let me make it up to you," he offered, drawing closer to me until he was close enough to run his left hand tantalisingly over my hip bone. He smirked when he heard my breath hitch at the contact and suddenly grasped me and shoved me unto the closest wall. My back hit the stone soundly and I felt shockwaves of pleasures at the impact and the thought of what was to come.

Oh, Morgana. A wall again. Yesss...

Delicious friction over my clothed body made my eyes close in bliss as I run my hands over his chest, his shoulders, his sides, everything I could reach. I tilted my head up automatically when I felt his head approaching, but he held back for a while longer, making me salivate in anticipation before he finally pressed his lips against mine and devoured me with the hunger of a starving man. I could only moan in approval. It had felt like an eternity since my lover had pressed me against a wall. When I was too weak after the poisoning, we had mostly kept it in the bed because standing was too exhausting for me. But now that I felt well enough, I couldn't wait for him to take me right there, in the middle of the corridor. Yes, I had developed a wall fetish. I blamed him and his obsession for crushing me against any flat surfaces he could find.

When his mouth left mine to trace my neck and suck on it to mark me, I put my hands on his head by reflex, because I always used to pull on his hair as he did so. We both froze when my hands touched his bald head.

The texture of it was intriguing... It wasn't smooth at all. It was full of ridges and bumps. Some patches looked like the hair was already growing back, while others did not. But it was a new expanse of skin I had never explored, so I did, brushing over it, memorising its details, caressing it. And he resumed his marking without commenting or asking me to stop, so I took it as an authorisation to continue. When I moved down the back of his head close to where his neck started, he shivered involuntarily and I gloated silently, having found another of his rare sensitive spots.

It felt like a triumph.

His hands worked quickly and effectively to get rid of my clothing and I tried to reply with just as much dexterity, but I was clumsy in my enthusiasm. I had already forgotten about my fumbling, however, by the time his last piece of clothes fell on the ground and he was at last standing in broad daylight, naked in front of me. He had lost all of his body hair except for his eyebrows and eyelashes now, apparently. I wondered if he had wanted to hide that from me. He didn't look embarrassed at the moment, however. It was a silly thought to imagine him insecure. He never was, not really.

I looked down at my body. I had lost a lot of muscles and weight during my convalescence. I wondered if he cared about it.

When he lifted a hand to tilt my head up and kissed me deeply, his warm torso connecting with mine with a tingling of magic and pressing me back against the cool wall, I forgot all about my insecurities and just lost myself in the feeling of us.

After we came down from our highs and calmed our breathing again, he led me to our rooms to shower together before heading to sleep. When our evening routine was done and we were lying next to each other in the bed, he turned toward me and propped himself up on his left elbow.

"You know, sex wasn't all I had in mind to make it up to you," he confessed, surprising me.

"What else were you thinking of?" I asked, intrigued.

"I'm going to show you how to fly," he declared, shooting me a smug smirk when he saw my gobsmacked expression and swooping in for a languorous kiss full of crackling energy before turning his back to me to go to sleep. I stayed on my back, thinking over his words.

I knew that he hadn't answered my confession of love. I hadn't expected him to either. But this was probably the best I could hope for him at the moment.

.

(o0o0o)

(1st of March 1998)

The morning after found us in the vast expanse of land behind the Fortress. If it weren't for the lack of hoops and seats, I would have guessed it to be a Quidditch field, so large and well maintained as it was.

Marvolo looked calmer today, almost serene. He was wearing elegant duelling robes and just the sight of him in them gave me inappropriate thoughts. He just looked so powerful, so in control in them. He caught my appreciative glances and sent me a smirk in return before he returned to a serious expression.

I had butterflies in my stomach and a large grin on my face. I was going to learn how to fly without a broom! It was every magical child's dream come true.

Marvolo was in full teacher-mode. Serious, carefully articulated words, projected voice, emphatic pacing and hands movements. It was a delicious sight. He had told me that, at some point in his youth, he had wanted to become a Defense teacher at Hogwarts. I was glad he hadn't, because I would certainly have been too distracted to listen to his class if I had been in it. As it was, I was only marginally better with controlling my urges in his presence. That, and what he was saying was so interesting that even his imposing presence couldn't distract me from what he was saying.

"Long before grand witches and wizards created tools to help the mediocre masses harness their magical potential, discipline and self-awareness, focus and will power, strength and dedication were needed to practice any type of Magic. By using first, staves, and then, wands, witches and wizards have used the proprieties of the creatures and pieces of wood in their tools to act as a focus when channelling their inner magic. And, while these practices made the Arts accessible to most born with the Gift, it also taught us to rely and, ultimately, to depend on them to be able to perform Magic at all. To most contemporary wizards, even the uncontrolled accidental magic they did as children is inaccessible to them from the moment they do their first spell with a wand. Throughout the ages, they have attempted to justify their inability to access their magic without the help of their wands with feeble excuses such as "children's emotions are stronger, deeper, purer than adults'", which is senseless, because teenagers are often hormone-driven and most agree that a mother's instinctual fear and love for her children knows no comparison in intensity..." he paused for a moment, pondering his captive audience. It occurred to me that he might be thinking of my mother and her sacrifice. I shifted uneasily, not sure of whether I should comment on the point or not. Although I had heard of my parents through Remus, Sirius and countless others, I had lived all my life without them and they remained mostly an abstract concept in my mind. I used to be envious of the other kids in the Rebel Camp who had their parents, but I didn't grow up lacking parental authorities, or even love, in great part because of Sirius' constant presence at my side. I didn't know what to think of my lover's implications in those deaths, apart from recognising that my training to beat the Dark Lord had taught me that killing an enemy was the best way to prevent them from getting up and retaliating. And my parents had taken a clear side and fought in the opposite clan in the war...Perhaps this rationalisation was callous of me. Too detached, too rational. Those persons had brought me to life, after all. Maybe I just accepted it because I selfishly wanted to pursue this relationship without being crushed with guilt at the thought of my lover's actions. Sometimes I felt like if I stopped and thought deeply about the morality of our relationship, I would be left with no choice but to put an end to it. Every time my mind flirted with the thought, a twisting pain would awaken in my stomach, as if I could not bear to hold it there any longer. As if, in the space of a few months, Marvolo had engrained himself so deeply in me that life without his constant presence at my side just couldn't be contemplated...

The object of my reflection pulled me out of my thoughts by starting his monologue again.

"Others said that accidental magic abates because children learn a better control of their magic. While more sensible, this explanation still leaves much to be desired. If children newly acquainted with their wands had a better grasp of their magic, shouldn't they be able to perform at will the same wandless spells they did before? Really, the only explanation possible is that we deliberately enslave ourselves to wands for the sake of convenience and laziness. Thankfully, however flawed the rebels' training was, they still took in consideration the very obvious weakness that is "wandlocked" Magic and sought to gave you alternatives in the form of basic wandless spells and Muggle weapons," he admitted unexpectedly.

I was quite surprised to see that he didn't sound derisive at all at the mention of my training.

"Sit down, if you will, Harry," he asked more graciously than I was expecting. I did so quickly and, figuring that we would work more on my magical focus, adopted a meditative position.

"Good. This should go relatively well, as your Magic is still readily accessible to you. One thing has to be done before we can start, however. Give it to me, Harry," he ordered reaching forward with his empty right hand.

I knew what he was talking about. I was surprisingly hesitant to hand over my wand. In certain circles, giving your wand to someone else was the absolute sign of surrender and I wondered in a flash how the accursed Honour Duel would take it. I bit my lip to prevent myself from asking if this was really necessary. It wasn't as if I had never been in his presence without my wand, after all. My reluctance was a bit ridiculous. Had I not slept at his side nearly every night in the past months? I extracted my wand from its holster slowly and looked down at it. Eleven inches, phoenix feather, brother wand to the Dark Lord's. What if it liked Marvolo better than me? I clenched down all my uncomfortable feelings and forced myself to hand it to the Dark Lord. He took it solemnly, but not without a pleased smirk on his face. He then brought his left hand up and started to slowly trace its length as he examined it in detail. The close scrutiny made me twitch uncomfortably. After an inexplicably tense moment on my part, he took out his own wand and placed it next to mine in his right hand. Despite there being no visible hint of a reaction between the two wands, Marvolo still lifted an eyebrow and silently pondered for a moment, before stashing them both away. I wondered if he could feel anything from them that I could not sense from my place.

"That was hard for you, wasn't it?" he asked with a knowing smirk. I rolled my eyes at him and held in a sigh.

"It was more difficult to contain my curiosity," I replied untruthfully. "Why did I have to give you my wand?"

Marvolo's smirk widened in a grin.

"Maybe I just wanted to see if you would give it to me?" he teased. "I would have praised you for showing this much trust in me, but you only handed it to me with the most reluctant expression on your face. Tell me, Harry, does being with me still make you battle with your instincts?"

I frowned, thinking of the worrying direction my reflection had followed a few minutes again. Nothing was fortuitous with Marvolo. He must have caught some of that hesitation and decided to needle it further to see what I would say.

"Only when you keep testing me for a reaction. That's becoming old quickly," I shot back at him, annoyed. "Did you really have no other point in asking for my wand?"

He had a careless shrug.

"I rarely have but one motive behind my actions. In this precise case, well, certain researchers have theorised that doing wandless magic while having one's wand within hand's reach is accomplish through the wand's focus. I do not want you to access it for this little exercise. It would defy its purpose," he explained.

"Now," he continued. "Close your eyes and reach for your magic."

I did as he ordered, easily finding the bright stream coursing in me and connecting with it. I felt a small rush of pleasure at doing so, as always when I did wandless magic.

"Good. Now, what you feel is your inner Magic. When a wizard does a spell, he connects his inner Magic with the ambient one. This process is usually facilitated by the use of a wand or any other magical focus. Ambient Magic stems from Nature. It is ubiquitous, yet also varies greatly from one environment to another. Most remarkably, Unspeakables have also found a link between the amount of spells used at a certain place and the strength of ambient Magic. Whether it is because wizards have an unconscious tendency to establish themselves in places where ambient Magic is stronger, or because the latter grows every time it connects with someone or something's inner Magic, is still unclear. Certain have theorised that the strength of one's spells depends largely on the magical potential of the location in which they are cast. Such a tendency would explain why Purebloods stubbornly remain in their old mansions and dwellings instead of using their at times considerable wealth to build anew each decade following the tastes of the moment. But this is another subject," he said dismissively before I could comment on the subject. I just lifted an eyebrow at his off-track monologue. It was easy to forget how much of a bookworm he was in the face of all his power. If he wasn't so ambitious, he would probably be content spending his life in a Library, pushing the boundaries of magic as we knew it.

"Tell me, Harry, does the Levitation spell work on yourself, and is it a viable way to attempt to fly?" he asked me. I opened my eyes to look at him while I pondered the question.

"Well...it doesn't work if you do it on yourself directly, but you can always levitate an object on which you are standing if you want to float," I pointed out.

"Always trying to find a way around questions, Harry," he said, shaking his head in mock disapproval. His ruby eyes were amused, however. "Can you tell me why this solution wouldn't be viable for flying?"

"Because you would need to feed in your magic constantly to make the spell hold?" I suggested. In the same idea, one couldn't use fire spells or banishing spells to propel themselves either. It would be much too draining.

"Correct," said Marvolo, still in his teacher mode. "Can you think of any way to keep a spell going without having to constantly feed magic into it?"

I frowned, thinking of the question. Wards didn't eat up magic when they were anchored by Runes. That was what I was going for in my research with Snape anyway. I didn't want to be consciously blocking the Dark Magic Intoxication and draining my magical reserves for it to work. But you could anchor anything in this case, unless you wanted to permanently float? Or maybe, if you put Runes on a board of some kind and...

"Harry," interjected Marvolo, bringing me out of my thoughts. "You are not heading in the right direction. I talked to you about the concordance between inner and ambient magic. Can you think of something in those lines?"

I tried to think of something, but drew a blank. After a moment, he spoke again.

"Inner magic in only strained by its interaction with ambient magic. That is why magically enhanced senses, or even the Animagus transformation, are not draining at all. Even in a dire state, an Animagus can transform, as long as their inner magic didn't undergo severe stress, like when it tried to keep you alive after you were poisoned. "

I nodded, thinking of instances when I had used my magical Sight for hours without feeling remotely tired afterwards. Sirius had also told me that he could remain in his Animagus form for days at an end without much problem. It had been a useful ability when he had gone on spying missions.

"Your Inner Magic is part of yourself. It runs through you, encircles you and even protects you at times, without needing explicit directions or focus on your part. When one seeks to reach the skies without the use of a broom or other flying artefacts, one has to find a balance with his or her Inner Magic and the Ambient Magic, without there being any connection between the two," he explained, confusing me immensely. I frowned as I pondered what he said.

Before I could sort it out on my own, he continued his exposé.

"You grew up with a certain awareness of the Muggle world, didn't you, Harry?" he asked me.

I nodded uncertainly. The Rebel Camp had been so isolated from the Magical community that we had had no choice but to rely on the Muggle one for bare necessities.

"Are you familiar with the concept of a hot air balloon? Or that of a zeppelin?

"Hot air balloon, yeah, I think I saw one once at a Muggle festival I attended when I was young. I have no idea what a zeppelin is, though," I confessed.

A small smile made its way on Marvolo's face as his eyes strayed to the sky.

"I was born between the two Muggle World wars, in what would be referred to as the golden age of zeppelins and, despite their dramatic fall in popularity after the Hindenburg disaster of 1937, in my youth, I had always held a certain fascination for those large airships. For me, the way they floated in the skies was nothing short of magical. Needless to say that when I learnt of the existence of Magic, I expected large airships to be a commonplace in the Magical World and was most disappointed to learn that only individuals or small groups could fly and that they were no comparative means of air transport. Worse than that, I failed to see in brooms or carpets the same ease in floating that had always fascinated me in the zeppelins.

After doing some research in the Muggle world, I learnt the basic of chemistry and the properties of gazes. Simply put, Zeppelin float because they are filled with something that is lighter than air. What if, through Magic, we could recreate a similar effect?" he asked with a theatrical sweep of his arms, gesturing at the empty field as if it was an amphitheater.

Okay, he might not have recuperated completely from the loss of two of his Horcruxes yet. I felt a bit stupid sitting on the ground, theoretically still focusing on keeping contact with my Inner Magic. Maybe I was supposed to stop at some point?

"You can get up, now, Harry," he said with an indulgent smile as I cautiously got to my feet. He probably made me sit only because he wanted to see if I would obey him. Damn him.

"Good," he said encouragingly, despite that I had only stood up. His enthusiastic behaviour was a bit puzzling.

"Now, Magic has a way to help you if you know how to communicate your needs. So, close your eyes and concentrate on feeling lighter," he said, as if he had given perfectly sensible instructions. I shot him a look of disbelief and frown at his behaviour, but didn't comment. Maybe it was good for other reasons that he didn't get the Defence against the Dark Art teaching appointment.

He caught my incredulous look and deflated slightly, reflectively passing a hand on his head where patches of hair were starting to grow back.

He sighed and said, looking out at the expense of land in front of him,

"I took a Potion this morning. It has side effects. Do you understand now why I would rather avoid them all together?" He confessed.

I was surprised he admitted as much and did not really know how to react to the information. I wanted to comfort him, but he did not seem upset, quite the opposite, actually. And I didn't think he would like the implication that he needed my help to go through something. I settled for a language that we both understood too well and got up to him, grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him down to my lips, kissing him harshly. He responded at the challenge and encircled me tightly in his arms in a possessive and nearly painful embrace.

I closed my eyes and let myself drift away, lost between the warmth pooling in my stomach, the rush of excitement soaring in my head and the Magic flowing and intertwining between us. I felt peace and contentment settle in me and tension I didn't know I felt flow out of me as Marvolo sighed against my lips. He broke the kiss but stayed very close to my lips, his breath washing over me when he whispered:

"Just let yourself feel and follow my lead."

I frowned in incomprehension before I felt something pulling at my Magic and pushing me up. I felt strangely...lighter and, trusting his words, I welcomed the feeling and encouraged it.

The next thing I knew, we were slowly lifting off the ground and I felt euphoric. I released a breathless laugh and looked at Marvolo who was wearing an indulgent smile on his face.

"Don't lose your focus," he advised before he suddenly let got of me.

For fraction of a second, I panicked and felt myself drop down, but then I concentrated on how the earlier lifting sensation and I managed to get stable in the middle of the air. I froze on the spot, looking around wildly and sending a prayer to any Gods and Goddesses I knew to not let me go.

"Are you going to stick to this spot like a terrified kitten or explore around like the Gryffindor you're supposed to be," challenged Marvolo from where he was grandly floating a few paces upward and to the left.

Just as I was wondering how I could even navigate in thin air and reach him, I somehow moved abruptely to the left and released a panicked shriek that I would later deny ever emitting. I knew it would not prevent Marvolo from teasing me mercilessly. Dammit.

"You did it on purpose! You Accioed me, you bastard!" I accused him.

He barked a laugh and floated next to me with an indulgent expression on his face.

"Will this be the 'Great Harry Potter's undoing?" He shot at me, comfortably lounging around in thin air as if he was trying to taunt me as much as he possibly could.

"Would you stop? I'm sure you weren't so at ease when you floated for the first time. Brooms are instinctual to me, but with this, I don't have anything solid to ground myself..." I started to rant before I eyed his lying form speculatively.

I searched within myself for the flow of Magic and push my will at it, concentrating on the feeling I had felt when Marvolo made us rise.

It started slowly, inching my way forward, but when I got the feeling of how to move, I suddenly shot forward and would have tackled the Dark Lord in the air if he hadn't felt me arriving and moved out of the way.

It took a few tries in which I either moved like a slug or a jet and dropped a few feet down or soared up uncontrollably, but started to get the hang of it when Marvolo got fed up with looking at my slow progress and decided to inject some sadism in his teaching by conjuring all sort of objects and throwing them at me to force me to react rapidly and dodge out of the way.

I wouldn't have had a problem with it, had it only been soft balls, for instance, but I didn't fully appreciate the intention behind the gesture when the tail of a grand piano smacked me off course painfully.

"Morgana, Marvolo! If you are trying to make it look like my death was accidental, a grand piano in the middle of a Quidditch field is not exactly conspicuous, you know," I shot at him. The man seemed unconcerned as he conjured Muggle darts and mistook me for a board.

I abruptly decided that the assault had to stop and I hurled myself at him before any of his dart could blind me. Tumbling in the air was a weird feeling, but he got the upper hand pretty quickly. It felt as if he could somehow solidify the air around us, but I had no idea how he could achieve something like that. Apparently, there was more to flying than "feeling light" as he had told me. Trust a Dark Lord to keep valuable information close to his chest. I bet he was just scared I'd beat him at flying if he taught me correctly.

I opened my mouth to ask him how he did it when I was distracted by an incoming owl. The poor beast released a startled screech at finding us suspended in his territory and flew around us a few times while the Dark Lord shot diagnosis spells at it.

He waved a nonchalant hand to it when he was done and the owl approached, perched on my shoulders and held its leg out to Marvolo. I supposed I made a less threatening perch than the Dark Lord, but I somehow didn't find the thought very comforting.

As it turned out, there was no letter in the owl's package. Only a strangely mangled form and a blackened ring that had Marvolo lose all his earlier playfulness and good humour. He made an abrupt wave of his hand and the owl was thrown off my shoulder and dropped dead down to the ground.

I protested, in shock at the poor creature's fate and at how close the spell had passed to me, but he shot me a warning glare not to cross him as he lowered himself down to the ground again.

I followed him down as well as I could, and collided with the ground in a graceless heap, but I still considered the expedition a success.

Marvolo was still looking at down at the ring and the other charcoaled thing, an angry and contemptuous frown on his elegant features. After a moment of heavy silence, he reached to pick something out of the mangled mess and he picked out a small black stone. He examined it silently, clearly puzzled by something mysterious. After a moment of close scrutiny, his expression cleared for one of comprehension, he pocketed it without a word and he turned to head back to the Fortress.

"What was it?" I asked him, not being able to contain my curiosity anymore.

He turned to me with a lifted eyebrow, as if he was surprised I was still there.

"Your friend Moody was obliging enough to send me back my propriety...

"He's not my friend!" I interrupted, scandalised.

He had a brisk movement of his hand and he turned away without another word.

Why did I get the impression that I wouldn't know what this was all about and what the stone was?

"And I need my wand back!" I shouted at his back a few moments later.

When he didn't respond, I hurried after him, grumbling about evil Dark Lords stealing wands for research purposes.


Voilà! I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter will be posted next week, early on if I have time.

Guest review reply :

Cherrie-san: I didn't think that I left you all with such a cliffhanger, but I do apologise for making you wait so long before you got the answer to your question of whether Marvolo and the Horcruxes will be alright. This chapter should answer part of it, but the consequences of Marvolo' loss are not clean-cut obvious. You'll see what I mean in the next chapters, I think.

EmeraldEyed : Huzzahh again at last! ;)

CuriousReader : Not exactly, no, as I think that if it was possible to drain someone's magic power, Voldemort would probably have incorporated a mandatory draining session for everyone who opposed the regime or something. Especially if there was a way to transfer that magic to him. Just saying. You might still find what I will do with the rest of the story unoriginal or repetitive, but I have never seen it treated the way I did. Tell me if I'm wrong when the story is done ;)

Kumo: If you wanted to send me a thousand reviews, I wouldn't complain at the stats it would give me, but I do admit that I prefer the one constructive review you have sent me. Hehehe, I love how you put it : "Voldy likes to do behind the scenes mushyness." I couldn't have said it better. That's what I liked about that letter he sent to Bill too :D You are right in saying that I may have laid Voldy's speech a bit too thick, but wasn't the original Voldy a bit obvious and paranoid in his canon speeches as well? Only JKR didn't have forced cuddling session with Harry to bring him back to earth afterwards. Too bad for her. ;) Good point about the portraits, but I sort of figured that they don't like Snape much, so they might not be very cooperative. You are right in saying that Snape's behaviour was a bit off and that he should maybe have stormed off to find the culprit, but concretely, he had very little proof that someone copied the notes. I might have presented it as if the clues were obvious, but concretely, the only thing he got was that the sheets were placed an inch or two further than usual on his desk. Maybe he just set them down as he was sitting and therefore it fell from a different angle at a different place? I think that Snape knows by now how paranoid he tends to be and he must have had enough false alerts throughout the years that it made him pause before he woke up the whole castle and told the Dark Lord of his failure. Maybe the last time something like that happened, the Dark Lord punished him for "pulling the alarm" when he didn't check between the cracks of his sofa for his missing remote (please insert magical equivalent here). Who knows?

Elaine: Thank you! I hope you liked this chapter as well, even if there wasn't as much action. :)

Hplvfan: Thank you so much for your nice compliments! To tell you the truth, I am a massive fan of Hplv slashs as well and the reason I started writing this story is that I felt a bit, like you, as if I had eaten all my Halloween candy and that there were no more new hplv stories for me to devour (*cough* I meant read at a sedate pace *cough*). Instead of wallowing in sadness with an empty stomach (will the food metaphors ever stop?), I decided to try my hand at it and that's how I got here! And I really don't regret it! :) You should try your hand at it as well ;) As for your question of what happens to horcruxes when they are destroyed, do they go back to their creator or do they vanish forever, well, I can't really answer it directly (I didn't think it was clear in canon either, to be honest), but as you saw in this chapter, the destruction does create an imbalance, at least temporarily. I won't necessary come out and say it directly in the next chapters either, but you should be able to form your own answer by looking at how Voldie acts and reacts.

Ana: Sorry I didn't update faster! I was caught in a horrible spiral of endless work, uni, family drama, etc. At least, contrarily to an alarming amount of fanfiction writers I have read, my computer did not spontaneously combust, losing my story in its downfall. And I can safely say that such a long delay won't happen again for this story. I hope it makes up to it somewhat ^^

maia: Thank you! I am very happy that you liked it so much!

Kayliana: Oh, wow! Lucky for me that you did come back to read the rest of my story if I got me a review like that! :D I'm really happy to read that you like how I have included the romance within a bigger plot. At the basis, I had planned on most of the story happening from Harry's POV (hence my choice of putting the narrative in 1st person), with occasional side-chapters from someone else's POV. At it went, however, I started to realise that the other characters wanted to speak too, and that switching the POVs would really bring something more to the story (not to mention that Harry is a bit clueless to all the behind-the-scene manipulations, so we would lose a big part of the plot if it was just from his POV). I'm glad you think that I balance well the different characters, plot threads and POVs. From wanting to explain other characters' perspective on their actions, the story has evolved into a monster of complexity. I did try very hard to untangle it and present it in an understandable way, so I'm glad it seemed to have worked for you. Also, don't worry, I did recognise the compliment in your remark and I am not offended at all if you don't usually like stories that diverge drastically from canon. I will have to say, though, that ironically enough, I don't usually like stories that diverge too much from canon either, and that's why, despite the plot happening in an AU, I tried to ground it in canon as much as possible with the characters, the relationship between them (except for Harry and Voldie, obviously) and everything that happened before the diverging point of my story (Voldemort coming back to life through the diary Horcrux a few months after Halloween 1981). Maybe that's why, despite being AU, it sorta feels a bit canon? In any case, merci beaucoup pour tes commentaires et j'espère que tu vas aimer les prochains chapitres tout autant :)

tic-tac: Valid points about Snape's lack of security. I would make excuses for his forgetfulness, (such as, didn't he leave his memories unprotected in the Pensieve when he got called away for an emergency in book 5?) but a lot of people pointed out that they didn't find Snape's attitude all that realistic in this last segment. Mea culpa, but I needed this for the plot. My Snape won't do it again, I promise. ^^'

Annuket: You have probably read this chapter already, so you know that this shift in Harry and Voldemort's relationship was what I was going for. Hopefully, Voldie will realise that showing his emotional side to Harry from time to time is not a bad thing and on the contrary might strengthen their relationship. If that's what he's aiming for at all... (ouhhh :P)

So, thank you again for everyone who reviewed! Let me know what you have thought of this chapter as well if you can! :)