Book III:

Chapter 13: The Prince and his Honor

When the first article hit the breakfast tables on Saturday, Harry thought he would never be able to look anyone in the eye again. The interview had gone well. Snape would have mocked or scolded him otherwise, but afterwards everything was left to the discretion of the reporters.

They had none.

There was no consistency in what each article had written. Some pieces were ridiculously over dramatic while others printed bare facts that somehow misled even more thoroughly than the former. Only McGunny's article held anything resembling accuracy, but that may have been because the school would have known he was full of crap if he started rambling about Harry being a miniature Voldemort or some frightened little orphan.

That might have been giving the student body too much credit, because by Tuesday his embarrassment had dissipated into full blown irritation with all of them. After two and half years he thought everyone was pretty clear about who and what Harry was. Yet everyone was treating him like a stranger. Not necessarily rude (except for the Slytherins who all seemed to have gotten their nickers in a twist) but a nervous uncertainty, as if they did know if he was going to wave hello or cast Cruciatus on them. Some people had developed an annoying habit of adding 'mister' or 'sir' in their greetings, reminding him inexplicably of house elves.

"Sorry, Mr. Potter, I didn't see you there."

"Do you think they'll have the pitch fixed by New Year's, Mr. Potter sir?"

"Sir, you can borrow my notes."

Very aggravating, but snapping at them would only have made it worse. When he asked Hermione how long she thought it would last, she had only given him a stricken look. He didn't find it at all reassuring.

To make matters worse, his stress was affecting Sirius and Remus. They were all very careful not to take their unease and frustration out on each other, but their bad tempers were obvious to everyone else. Sirius insisted the extra aggression was justified, swearing he had been hearing Slytherins plotting since Saturday. Remus could neither confirm nor deny this, his senses dulled due to a mild cold, but Harry wasn't going to take any chances until he could talk to Draco in private. Draco had been scarce Monday, but a note at breakfast was enough to secure some time during lunch to speak.

Unfortunately, the reality of Sirius' paranoia revealed itself between his morning classes.

He had just climbed the stairs to the third floor and was heading towards Arithmancy when he found his way blocked by a group of Slytherins. Their leader was a skeletal girl with fingers like spiders, but the rest of them were large and brutish.

Sirius was not with him, having wandered off to investigate an unusual smell, leaving Remus who wasn't half as intimidating. Hermione walked right past them, but Harry found himself cut off when he made to follow.

"Where do you think you're going, kitty cat?" the bony girl sneered.

He knew instantly that he was in trouble, but he wasn't sure of how much trouble until Remus' soft growl alerted him to the three other Slytherins coming up the stairs and blocking his retreat. Other students began to realize something was happening and the hallway and stairs began to congest heavily with gawkers. Beyond the Slytherin goons, Hermione was struggling to get back to him with little progress.

"What are you doing? Let me through!"

"Don't lose your tiara, princess. Barlow just wants to have a little talk, ya?"

It was such an obvious lie, Harry wondered why he even bothered.

"What do you want?" he asked, more to buy time than out of curiosity. The smile she gave him was Chesire wide and complete with little fangs.

"What does any modern woman want? A diamond necklace. A cute boyfriend who adores me. A summer house on the beach. But mostly, I want my parents back."

Her expression went blank.

"But I can't have those things anymore, because of what those bloody fucking aurors did. Hell, maybe it was your father that killed them and sent me to live with a useless aunt and uncle, and let them burn through my trust fund like they'd won the lottery. I don't know and I really don't care, but I believe I'm due a little compensation, don't you?"

Under normal circumstances, he might have been sympathetic. But these were abnormal circumstances and he was only half listening, his mind running a mile a minute, sorting through potential battle scenarios and means of escape, until he settled on a plan. It was risky, but if successful it yielded the best results. He was ready before she even finished speaking.

"You're right," Harry said calmly, startling everyone. "And I will give you the chance to avenge your family. Remus, would you come here a moment?"

"What are you up to, Harry?"

"Trust me."

With everyone disoriented from his supposed surrender, he took Remus' hand and removed his glove, then spun around and abruptly slapped her with it.

"You have claimed an injustice by my family and sullied its name. I challenge you to a duel. If you stand by your accusation than accept. If it is false, then concede and walk away."

He felt a little silly reciting the challenge by rote, but Snape had drilled proper form and decorum into all his duelists and it would feel even stranger deviating from it. Barlow just stood there, stunned for a long moment. She slowly reached up to touch her reddening cheek.

"Harry, no! You could be expelled for drawing your wand in a fight!" Hermione cried.

"Merlin, what have you done?"

Remus snatched back his glove and shoved it on angrily. Harry didn't acknowledge either of them, his attention fixed on Barlow. As he watched her the blankness was slowly replaced by delight.

"You're going to regret that, little kitty. I accept. Anyone who doesn't want to die, get out of our way."

"Lets move towards the stairs. Less chance of hitting anyone accidentally."

Remus growled in his ear.

"You're not doing this, Harry."

"I can fight one on one or two on ten. You do the math," he hissed back.

"Let him do it."

They both turned towards the stairs at the sound of Sirius' voice. He had two of the three Slytherins by their necks, and smiled grimly up at them.

"It's a matter of honor now. He'll have to see it through. Kill anyone who tries to interfere. I'll take care of things on this end."

"Siri-"

"That's an order!"

"Fuck."

Remus moved to obey, herding the students like sheep towards the group of Slytherins, blocking them from making any surprise attacks while Harry was engaged. Harry and Barlow had taken up position by the stairs, not looking away from the other for even a moment.

He had challenged her formally, but this wasn't a formal duel and even if it was he doubted she knew proper form, so there was no customary stance or salute and they stood much closer than official gaming rules would allow. There was only steady gazes and twitchy fingers aching for their wands, and at their current range the person who got off the first spell couldn't miss so they'd only need one.

The crowd was silent, the tension hung heavy in the air like humidity or magic. For a few seconds they did not move, but for Barlow wetting her chapped lips. Inside his pocket, Harry could feel his watch beginning to burn.

He arm shot up, her wand in her hand and a spell in her mouth. Harry still could have cast his first hex before her, but instead he ignored his wand all together. He jumped forward, grabbing her wrist and swinging her towards the stairs. Her curse broke off into a startled shriek as she lost her balance, certain of her fall. Her demise was cut short by Harry, who instead of letting go held firm to her wrist. She tried to pull herself up, but he moved forward and left her floundering for balance again.

"What are you doing? Pull me up!"

"Not until you yield."

"What?!"

"We're still technically dueling. I can't help you up until you drop your wand."

"Fuck you!"

He shifted his weight and she screamed, before he caught himself. There were gasps and snarls of warning and someone cried out for 'Sasha'. Harry merely grunted.

"For such a skinny girl, you're sure heavy. I can't keep this up for much longer. Drop the wand or I'll drop you. I win either way."

She looked him in the eyes to see if he was bluffing, but all she could see was the strain of him keeping his hold on her. With an angry grimace, she dropped her wand. He kicked it down the stairs as a precaution before pulling her to safety.

The duel was over.

The crowd broke into a maelstrom of motion and noise. There was cheering and back slaps for Harry, until his godfather reached him and forced everyone to give him space. Hermione was in his face, shouting and calling him names that were all variations of 'you stupid idiot' and 'you're a bloody genius'. He didn't feel particularly victorious. He had been chosen for what was likely a very bad beat down for things his parents may or may not have done by a girl he'd never even met and apparently with her House's full support. Quick thinking and luck have saved him this time, but what would happen when one or the other failed? There was no way this was the end of things.

It took a while but Hermione finally noticed he hadn't said a single word.

"Harry, what is it?"

"... Nothing. We're late for class."

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They were over fifteen minutes late for class, but so was almost everyone else. When Professor Vector asked what had kept them all, Dean Thomas immediately spat out that someone had pranked the staircase so everyone got stuck to it if they tried to go up. No one contradicted him, though several people glanced in Harry's direction.

Harry hoped everyone would remain similarly tight lipped about his involvement, but wasn't going to be placing any bets on it. Sure enough, by the time class was dismissed the school was buzzing the latest gossip, and Harry could literally watch the spread of the tale like the gradual onslaught of plague. The symptoms involved staring, elaborate gestures, and exclamations of 'no way!' or 'did he really?'.

It was stranger still when Colin Creevey rushed up to him, barely keeping himself from fleeing from the werewolf pair that glared at him, and told him he was in danger.

"Harry I think you should go the other way! Malfoy just heard about the duel and he looks really really pissed, and.. er... he's heading this way!" the boy said, then quickly fled.

Beside him, Hermione rolled her eyes.

It hadn't occurred to Harry that Draco would be mad at him. He supposed it was possible depending on the story he'd been told and by who. In any case, he wasn't going to run every time a Slytherin decided to hold a grudge, even if he was a friend of his. Sirius spotted the young Malfoy first as well as Ron Weasley following close behind and gave them a threatening look. They both hesitated.

"It's fine, Sirius. Draco's a friend. I'm just going to sort things out with him," Harry said. They moved to follow him, but he held up a hand. "No offense, but its kind of hard to settle a misunderstanding with you threatening death over my shoulder. Just give us a little space."

"Harry..."

"We'll just be in the classroom. Unless Moody transfigured himself into desk, I'm sure I'll be perfectly safe."

Sirius, reluctantly, relented but not before sparing them another promise of painful death with only his eyes. Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Ron quickly moved into an abandon classroom and shut the door. Ron cast a silencing charm, and Harry didn't bother mentioning that Remus probably took it down again as soon as it was up.

"Bloody hell..." Draco muttered, "They're a fright. How can you stand them?"

"I practiced with your godfather."

That almost earned him a patented Malfoy smirk, but then he seemed to remember that he was angry at Harry. He crossed his arms.

"What happened? People are saying you had a duel with Sasha Barlow and that you threw her down the stairs!"

"I did not throw her down the stairs."

Hermione butted in. "It wasn't his fault this time. She cornered him with a goon squad, and it was a duel or a mob. No one got hurt."

Ron snorted. "Well, she obviously isn't alright. She's in the hospital wing, you know."

"What? Who told you that?"

"Uncle Severus."

"Fuck," Harry muttered. "Did he seem mad?"

Draco gave him a 'well duh' look.

"She started it," he muttered.

"Doesn't matter," Ron said, looking far more irritated than Harry thought he had a right to be. "You're in Dueling Club. She's isn't. Our charter could get revoked if you're caught abusing your skills or you'll get expelled from the club, and who am I going to get to replace you before our next competition?"

"I didn't use my magic," Harry insisted. "I didn't even draw my wand. I've got fifty witnesses to can testify that she started it and that she was fine when I walked away."

"And all her cronies will testify that you did."

"Why? What is happening? Why are all the Slytherins pissed off at me? Are you pissed off at me too?"

Draco hesitated, but Ron didn't have enough tact to consider his next words.

"Of course they're pissed. We're all pissed at you. You're the Dark Lord's bloody heir and your family probably killed at least some of their parents. How unfair is that?"

"That isn't my fault!"

"That isn't the point! Lots of kids around here had parents on the other side of the war, but they're not getting news paper articles written about them or free clothes or vacations with the Dark Lord! It's a rip off. Their parents died for him, and the only one he has eyes for is the one with parents who tried to kill him."

Harry didn't have anything to say to that. It was a rip off, but it wasn't his fault. He hadn't asked for any of it, and really he would have been happier to have been left anonymous with only his friends for company... wouldn't he? Although if it weren't for Voldemort, he might never have met his godfathers or at least never been able to talk or speak with them. He could do without the fancy clothes and gifts, but what about the knowledge that had come with the Dark Lord's mentoring? He wish he could say he hadn't wanted any of it, but it rang a lie in his own head.

Merlin, this was why he hadn't wanted to tell anyone. Guilt trips were not his idea of fun.

"So what am I suppose to do? Apologize?"

Draco looked horrified at the suggestion.

"Merlin, Potter, that's the last thing you want to do. That's just handing them the sticks to beat you with."

"Then what? What can I do?"

There was silence, and he thought it was because they didn't have a solution themselves but Hermione's strained voice revealed a hesitation born of reluctance rather than helplessness.

"You have to fight," she said, and sighed wearily. "They're going to hate you no matter what you do. It's unreasonable. It's unfair. It's self-destructive. But that the way it is. You're going to have to keep fighting until no one dares challenge you... or at least fewer dare challenge you."

Harry swallowed. He didn't like it. He could seriously hurt someone or be seriously hurt himself. There had to be another way. He was good at finding solutions that didn't occur to others, but he was currently at a loss. Draco tried to cheer him, but since he was still irritable it came off as mocking.

"Most of my house is just testing for weakness. You defeating Barlow is going to discourage a lot of people from trying anything themselves. No one is going to try anything that will seriously hurt you. Not with the Dark Lord backing you. It's a struggle for dominance. If they can bring you to heel, no one is going to challenge them."

"Do you want to challenge me?" he snipped.

"Don't tempt me, Harry. I've lost some serious leverage because I'm still your friend. If some one manages to fuck you up, I'm going to lose control of even the first years."

He felt irrationally guilty for that.

"Sorry," he said, and changed the subject. "Are you sure Barlow is in the infirmary?"

"Either there or sulking somewhere. Are you certain you didn't hurt her?"

"I might have bruised her wrist when I stopped her from falling down the stairs, but nothing other than that. I didn't even draw my wand."

"When was the last time you used it?"

Harry gave him a funny look, which only served to further irritate the other boy.

"You haven't cast any hexes or jinxes today, have you?"

"No. I think the only spell I cast today was to un-wrinkle my shirt and that was before breakfast."

"Good. Don't cast anything unless it's in front of a teacher. If Barlow is trying to get you in trouble, then your wand is your only sure alibi."

Harry ran his hand through his hair, unhappy but at least he knew what was happening now.

"Thank you, Draco. I'll find a way to make this up to you."

"I'll consider myself well compensated if you come out of this smelling like roses. All I need is a reminder to everyone else that I'm a genius and not a sentimental sod for my acquaintance with you."

There was a knock at the door, which startled everyone who thought the Silencing Charm was still up, except for Harry who knew better. Sirius peeked in, looking annoyed.

"Come on, we've got to go."

By his tone it sounded like more bad news. However, if it related to Voldemort it might not necessarily be bad for him. This hope was quickly crushed when his godfather held up a note, folded into an origami bird and flapping crazily in the man's grasp.

"Lestrange wants to see you."

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"Don't worry, Prongslet. It's not like she can do anything. She just wants to swing her weight around. Try to look important," Sirius said. He was looking positively chipper (when he wasn't glaring at people) since the fight. Behind them Remus was looking as skeptical as Harry.

The halls were deserted except for the occasional GG, which made the school look strange after the commotion of lunch and the confrontation by the stairs. If they had been heading to Voldemort's office, he wouldn't be as nervous. The Dark Lord would have understood the situation and perhaps even approved of how he had handled it. Lestrange, however, was like Snape. Voldemort put her in a position of trust running the school, and if she decided to punish him somehow the man would probably not ever stop to question it. Worst of all, she probably knew it.

She must have been waiting for some excuse to exact her revenge on him after the basilisk incident, having embarrassed her in front of her master. Well, fuck her. She wasn't half as scary as she thought she was.

The gargoyle on the staircase let Harry pass without a password, but when his godfathers tried to follow the entrance snapped shut and blocked their entrance. He felt a twinge of nervousness, but crushed it. He wasn't to let her intimidate him.

"Mr. Potter," she said coolly as he stepped off the steps and into her office. It was just how he remembered it, ridiculously cluttered with books, portraits, and artifacts. The latest artifact was one he recognized very well. The Sword of Gryffindor hung upright behind a glass case near the stairs. He brushed his fingers over the case and felt the sword's magic respond, a single ringing sound like that of a bell. Lestrange seemed oblivious to it.

"Headmistress."

"Have a seat," she said, pointing to chair in front of her desk. Harry did so, but made a point to sit in the chair next to the one she had pointed to. He didn't know what good it might do. They both hummed with magic.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Yes, because you think you can bully me when Voldemort isn't around.

"No."

She smirked.

"There's a young lady in the hospital wing claiming you pushed her down the stairs."

Harry felt a jolt of anger, but kept himself under control.

"Really? That's strange. She must have knocked her head on the way down."

"There are witnesses who say they saw the same thing," she continued. "I find this very disturbing behavior, Mr. Potter. Don't you?"

"Yes, mass hallucinations do seem like a serious problem. I don't suppose they had just gotten out of potions?"

He wasn't looking at her directly, playing at disinterest, but he did notice the little tic starting in the corner of her right eye and felt extremely satisfied with it. It didn't last. Her cool expression took on a more smug look.

"I'm certain this is all a misunderstanding. Perhaps someone else resembling you did it or maybe you accidentally bumped her without noticing. This matter could easily be resolved with your cooperation."

He was being set up for something nasty and he knew it.

"Cooperation?" he said cautiously.

"It will only take a moment."

"What would I have to do?"

"Look at me."

Her voice was commanding, and he looked at her reflexively. There was a familiar sense of pressure and he sprung up, escaping towards the stairs. He heard, rather than saw Lestrange stand up and follow.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Away from you. If you want to find out the truth you can legilimens Barlow or one of her cronies. No way in hell am I letting you rummage around in my brain."

"Potter, get back here! We're not done!" she snarled, seizing him by his wrist and turning him around so she could grab his shoulders. He shoved her away, but her response was a backhand that sent him to the floor. She was amazingly strong for a woman.

She climbed on top of him, holding down his upper arm with her knees and grabbing his thrashing head with her hands, forcing him to face her. He kept his eyes pinched shut and struggled, but she was heavy and he was not very strong to begin with.

"Get off! I can't breathe! Get off!"

"Just cooperate Potter and it will all be over shortly," Lestrange crooned softly, contradicting the pain of her fingers trying to pry his eyelids open and knocking off his glasses.

"Sirius! Remus! Help me!"

"They can't hear you in here. When that door is closed this office is completely sound proof. Now be a good little boy and open your eyes."

He thrashed and struggled and screamed, but it had no affect on her, and when she finally became irritated and sat more heavily on his chest, he really couldn't breathe. His wand was in his sleeve, but without full use of his arm he couldn't cast properly. What could he do? Keep his eyes closed and hope she relented before he suffocated? He couldn't let her into his mind. Too many secrets, too many lives she could ruin with them including his own. If she learned about his godfather's plans to smuggle him out of the country their lives would be forfeit.

He couldn't let that happen! He had to protect them!

He renewed his struggling, even as his lungs burned with the need for air and he was starting to loose all his strength. He felt a pulse of magic (his own? Lestrange's? One of the artifacts?), and there was suddenly something cool and solid and familiar in his right hand. A rush of joy and he swung from his elbow, making a stabbing motion at his attacker. It missed, but she clambered off him. He took a swing at her as he rolled over onto his knees. He ended up striking one of her chairs instead, slicing it clean down the middle as if it were paper. His glasses quickly secured back in place, he jumped up and pointed his sword at the Headmistress who had retreated behind her desk and drawn her wand. She was furious, but also uncertain and perhaps even a little afraid. He had nearly killed her and they both knew it.

"How did you get that?" she snarled.

"How dare you! How fucking dare you!"

"Potter put that thing down at once! You're lucky I don't-"

He swung his sword across her desk, destroying several trinkets and scattering papers every where. She lifted her wand, but his sword was up before she utter a single spell. If it had been a regular sword, she wouldn't be the least bit intimidated, but this was Gryffindor's sword with the ability to cut through or deflect any spell short of the Killing Curse. She would have been perfectly happy to use the spell, but even she would have a hard time explaining a dead student to the Dark Lord.

She was stuck. She'd underestimated him. It shouldn't have been this difficult. He was just a little boy and she had overcome fully trained aurors with relative ease. Of course, she could use her wand in those instances. She didn't want to use it on this little venture, in case someone grew suspicious and checked him for spells.

If it had all gone to plan, she would have had all his dirty little secrets and the clout to enforce his silence and his obedience regardless of the suffering she inflicted on him. She had been planning this all summer, patiently waiting for the right time and the right opportunity. The release of the newspaper articles made now the ideal time, when he was feeling insecure about his secrets and the world was clawing for his weaknesses. The incident with Barlow made his summons to her office unremarkable and even expected.

Now it was all shot to hell. He still had his secrets, and was now armed and dangerous not only with his sword but her illegal attempt to legilimens him. Her master wouldn't have cared who she practiced such a thing on, unless it was people who held the Dark Lord's secrets. And Harry had those secrets. She didn't know what they entailed, but she knew they were there.

Her only hope now was that he was too naïve to think to use this against her.

"Open the door."

"Potter-"

"Shut up, you psycho bitch! Open the bloody door!"

She hesitated, but he raised his sword threateningly, and she twisted a nob on the underside of her desk. The door opened, and immediately she found her office invaded by werewolves. Well, bugger, she had forgotten about them. Sirius took one look at Harry and the partially destroyed office, then turned a glare on her that threatened murder.

"You alright, Harry?" he growled, not taking his eyes off of her.

"Yeah, lets just get out of here."

All three shuffled towards the exit, not taking their eyes off of her until they were safely out of sight. The staircase slammed shut behind them. Lestrange collapsed in her chair, wondering how badly she had fucked things up.

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Larousse entered Bristol's military headquarters just after sunset, striding purposefully to the uniformed sentry guarding the entryway to the inner offices. She pulled out her Sentinel Level three security card and handed it to her.

"I'm Vesper Larousse. I have an appointment with Lord Voldemort."

She tried to say the name as easily as Harry was able to, but even she found it difficult to say with any sort of confidence. It was enough, however, for the sentry. The uniformed woman looked at her clipboard for confirmation, checked Larousse for any suspicious objects (she removed seven items, including a silver brooch and the silver engagement ring Severus had given her), sequestered her wand, and then ordered another uniformed wizard to escort her.

The pathway they took was obviously intended for civilians and unauthorized personnel. It skirted the edge of the building, leaving windows to the outside on the left and long stretches of solid walls to the right. There were no windows to the interior of the building, and the few doors they passed were heavily warded. The staircase to the fifth floor was narrow, and a security spell was needed to pass each level, until at last she was led through a door and into a lounge.

The lounge was corporate but for a few tapestries and plants scattered around the room and one man from Voldemort's army of assistants stood behind a desk. He smiled politely, but she didn't miss his discreet once over as she approached. She did not smile back. She hadn't dressed up to impress him after all.

"Professor Larousse, welcome. The Dark Lord is just finishing up with a meeting and will be with you shortly," he said officiously. She nodded and wandered over to study one of the tapestries while she waited. After about ten minutes there was a chirping sound, like a finch, and the assistant said she could go in.

Voldemort's Bristol office wasn't like his Hogwart's one. For one, there was a lot more wall space, she assumed so he could put up charts and maps for better study. For another, there were a lot more security spells. She felt vaguely nervous passing the filing cabinets with their aura of malevolent magic surrounding it. The desk sat atop a complex matrix of runes and shapes, preventing anyone except the Dark Lord from touching anything on it. As always, she was very impressed with the dark wizard's efforts.

"Welcome, Madam. Would you like some tea?" the man greeted. He was reclining comfortably on a sofa on the far wall, leafing through a manuscript. His informality unnerved her a bit, but she decided that was probably intentional. This was their first meeting alone and he was probably testing her.

"No thank you, my Lord. I wish to take up as little of your time as possible."

"Mmm..."

He sat up, replacing his manuscript with a cup of tea from an end table, and pointed to the other end of the couch.

"Sit down. It's annoying having to look up at you."

Another wave of discomfort, but she did as instructed.

"So what did you wish to see me about? Your letter said it involved Harry."

"Yes, my Lord. It's the matter of his guardianship."

"Snape is his guardian."

"Practically speaking, yes, he is. Officially, however... he is still up for adoption."

There was a very tense silence as Voldemort set aside his tea and looked straight at her. She could feel his attention like a palpable thing, hot and sticky and making her palms sweat and the air uncomfortable to breathe.

"I am aware of this," he said cautiously. "He has received thirty-two offers of adoption. Twenty of which were made in the last week."

She hadn't known that. It filled her with uncertainty.

"Are... um... have you considered any of them seriously?"

"No. None of them were suitable, but I suspect I will have many more offers over the next year. He's going to become quite popular. Why?"

She could tell he knew what she wanted, and wondered if Severus hadn't forewarned him.

"I would like to place a bid for adopting Harry."

He chuckled, a low and throaty purr and she could feel her face burn. Really, this was stupid. She was a full grown woman, not a timid little virgin anymore.

"And what makes you think I would allow you to take my darling protege? You're not even married."

"Severus and I are engaged. We're going to marry this summer."

He didn't look surprised, but someone how she got the feeling he hadn't known. Apparently, Severus hadn't warned him after all.

"Is that so? He didn't mention it to me. You are certain he wasn't playing with you? His humor can be quite twisted."

"I'm certain. I left my engagement ring with the sentry downstairs."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and gave her a not so discreet once over much like his assistant had.

"Are you barren?"

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Is he?"

"I haven't bothered asking, but I can't imagine why he would be. There are potions for that if he is."

"Then why would you feel the need to adopt if you can make progeny of your own? You do intend to bare him children, don't you?"

"Yes, I want a large family and I would like Harry to be a part of it. He deserves that. He's a very special young man."

"Yes, he is, which is why I must be careful who I entrust his wellbeing with."

"You already entrust Severus."

"You're not Severus though, and while you do appear to be a rather remarkable woman, you have a history of disobedience that he does not. I have no forgotten why you were thrown out of the Sentinels. I signed for your expulsion personally."

"I have learned my lesson, my Lord."

"Mmm... perhaps you have."

He slid across the couch as smoothly as a serpent, and she leaned back in surprise so that he was on top of her. Her eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat. His hand was on her cheek and she was certain he was about to kiss her, but instead of the pressure of his lips she felt the pressure of his magic against her mind. She jerked in alarm, but his hand on her cheek kept her immobile as he gently sifted through her mind.

It was over almost as quickly as it had begun. He removed his hand and released her from his legilimens, but remained poised over her trembling body.

"You really do love him, don't you? You silly thing," he chuckled, and she could feel his breath on her face. "I suppose of all the offers I have thus far received, Severus and you would make the most appropriate pair to look after him. However, I do not give gifts. What is in it for me... personally?"

He leaned in closer, their noses just barely touching. Beneath him, his prey was struggling with herself, completely thrown by the onslaught of both his physical and mental presence. She tried to gather her wits, reminding herself why she was here, that Severus was waiting for her back at the school, and this was a test not an offer. Just a test, a test, a test. Oh, he has such a pretty mouth.

He closed the distance between them.

SEVERUS!

She brought up her hand, covering his mouth before it touched hers. She didn't dare shove him off completely. She wasn't that stupid. Even so, he looked rather irritated, so she had to think fast before he forced the issue and she was left with nothing.

"Moody."

He pulled back a little, interest peaked.

"I'll find and capture Moody. I'll prove to you that I can protect Harry."

Voldemort moved off of her, grinning now.

"Oh, really?"

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Alright, there are a few things I'd like to say before you all start bemoaning the possibility of Larousse adopting Harry. One, the reasons she gave Snape for adopting Harry, are not HER reasons for adopting Harry. She might be crazy (might not necessarily is), but she really does want to be his mother. Also, yes, Snape and Larousse would make a poor choice of parents from a moral point of view. Pragmatically speaking, they would actually be good choices, being both strong and intelligent and politically savvy. From an author's point of view, it'd make a fabulous story contribution. There is so much physical, emotional, and psychological conflict such an event would create that there would be no end to the trouble it causes and thus helps drive the story forward.

Additionally, everyone seems to think Voldemort would be too possessive. I think everyone's looking at his motivations too simplistically. Voldemort doesn't make important decisions based solely on his emotions (which are twisted and convoluted and not easily predicted to begin with). He would weigh many factors no one else would think of, like how would the adoption help or hinder Harry's public appeal? Would they encourage or distract loyalty to the Dark Lord? Would parental conflict cause Harry to resent him or turn to him for guidance? What about the werewolves? Can they truly protect Harry or would they leave him more vulnerable? These are only a few of the many, many things Voldemort would be calculating before he even considered letting Harry be adopted.

And in the end he really might not allow it, but it wouldn't be due simply to jealousy.