In Willing Sacrifice

by GeMerope

When Harry Potter has the opportunity to erase Voldemort before the Dark Lord can resurrect, he finds out that walking a fine line between his own morality and the good of this world is more complicated than Harry could have ever imagined. Slow Burn, eventual HPLV.

75. C75 - Dance of Fate

Yes, the Ball is finally here! I know you'Ve been waiting for this chapter in anticipation and hope it doesn'T disappoint :)

Enjoy!

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Chapter 75 – Dance of Fate

'Perfection isn't too much to ask', Lucius had said. As Harry looked - for the hundredth time - over the altar he'd created, he seriously doubted something like perfection existed in the first place. There was always going to be something crooked, something wilted or discoloured. To Harry, that added to the charm, but if the Malfoys would see it the same way… No, that shouldn't matter. While he'd set this up on request of his new guardians, it wasn't them that he was trying to please. Every carefully placed leaf and stone was there to honour Magic. Harry may still not know exactly what Magic was, whether a fallen entity clinging to life or a God, but that she existed was certain. He'd seen her in Voldemort's memories and felt her power course through him. It was assuring to realise there was something more to life, a tangible higher being that served as a guiding light. Being so close to a Lord of Magic was strange. It was as if he for once stood on the side-line and supported the protagonist of a story, an unusual position for Harry to find himself in since entering the Wizarding World. Not that he minded.

''Harry! Are you done yet?'' Narcissa called out from the other side of the room. She'd just laid the last hand on an ice sculpture that was supposed to melt at the very end of the evening to reveal a work of spring art below, a tasteful bouquet of rare flowers. When one peered inside, some of the petals closer to the surface were already clearly visible. Had there been a sculpture like that last year too? Was it a tradition of sort, or was Narcissa trying to trump her own ball each year with grander decorations? He couldn't recall, not having spent much time in the main ball room then. Sirius and he hadn't even managed to stay until the end as they'd been thrown out.

Now that had been an interesting evening. In a way, he felt the same now as back then, completely unprepared to face a bunch of staring people and sure to be absolutely awkward when facing Voldemort. He hoped that at the very least, the man wouldn't leash his own magic again. Being cut off always felt surreal and uncomfortable.

''I hope I'm done,'' he answered, voice laden with uncertainty. ''I gathered all offerings that are described in 'the Druid's tale' and tried to arrange them in a way that felt right to me, but this is the first time I've prepared such a large altar… Do you need my help with something else?''

The woman shook her head and confidently strode towards him. ''Your words imply that you have set up smaller ones before. It's good that you do have some experience.'' Harry didn't think this was the right moment to protest by confessing that the only other time he'd partaken in a ritual that required an altar was when he and Ron Weasley had used stacks of old books as they hadn't been able to find a natural, large flat stone. Nor that he'd basically been told how to properly prepare it to call for storms by a Horcrux. Thus, he merely gave a noncommittal grunt, which was answered by a disapproving look. ''Harry, you still need to learn how to school your expressions, I can read the nerves off your face. That's not a good look. Be careful whom you show your thoughts to.''

He really wished to take her words to heart, truly, but even the Dursleys hadn't managed to curb Harry's tongue. It was unnatural for him to not let what was on his mind show on his face. It was the greatest struggle when talking to Dumbledore to attempt it at times. Only the fear of discovery enabled Harry to not reveal the amount of anger and pity he felt when seeing memories that revolved around Voldemort's past.

His lack of reply had clearly been expected, for Narcissa turned her attention to his work. Harry had picked a large oval table and draped it with thick green cloth, upon which spring offerings were spread out. In its centre sat three tiny cauldrons, one filled with fresh water, one with soil and another with the white petals of woodland anemones; an abundant native flower that formed a carpet in the woodland surrounding Malfoy manor this time of year. Behind the bowl were more flowers, a bouquet of bright daffodils that fanned out to the sides. Harry thought that this was one feast that he really appreciated the idea of. New beginnings, a budding promise of warmer times ahead and celebration of life. Although he'd loved both the Lughnasadh and Yule celebrations he'd partook in, this felt much more carefree. Even the circle of runes he'd drawn all around the edge of the cloth in chalk all symbolised positivity, from Gebo to Wunjo.

The only downside of today was that it was unlikely for an actual ritual to take place. Voldemort had made his opinion very clear last year that he thought it insulting to Magic to purposefully celebrate Ostara on the wrong date. The Spring Equinox was already over, so the Dark Lord had likely already done his part in honouring Magic. Harry couldn't really blame the man, Magic clearly hadn't been pleased with being forgotten at Yule. The late celebration may have been accepted, but there was no need to tempt the mood of fate.

''It looks wonderful,'' Narcissa praised after inspecting every single element, picking up a petal to rub between her fingers. ''You have a better eye for detail than you claimed.''

''Mrs Mal- Narcissa,'' he corrected at her arched eyebrow. ''What does all of this mean to you, personally? Ostara, or Easter… I wish to get a better grasp of magical traditions, but have heard precious little about such feasts from my friends. Although I was here last year, it looked more like a way for people to simply catch up and eat together. Is there any sort of… of religious component to it for you?''

She smiled faintly and straightened one of the daffodils that threatened to slide out of the bouquet. ''A bit of both,'' she admitted. ''I believe in a higher purpose, that Magic watches over her chosen few and that she deserves to be honoured. However, I personally believe that it should be enough if everyone does so individually. I pray occasionally, yet it's no large part of my life. Gatherings such as this Ostara ball are more about solidarity and maintaining our way of life. Family coming together, catching up, forming a united front against those who wish to dethrone us. As you should know, Pure-blood families are very intertwined, but there simply aren't many opportunities to come together apart from these official holidays. For me, Ostara especially is one of the best occasions to tighten bonds with other people, as my parents named me after one of the holy flowers.'' She gazed tenderly at her yellow namesakes. ''To summarise the answer to your question, much that will go on here tonight will be about politics and social alliances, far more than about religion. Or it would be any other year. With the Dark Lord revealing himself tonight, I believe we'll be in for something different.''

Harry frowned. ''You sound… sad about it,'' he carefully commented. The woman looked away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

''I apologise if that wasn't the answer you were looking for,'' she merely said. ''Now, guests will start arriving in less than an hour, so you really should take a shower still and get dressed appropriately. Knowing my son, Draco is likely already upstairs to do the same.''

With reluctance, still wondering what had been on her mind, Harry obliged and headed upstairs. Maybe Draco needed around an hour to get ready, he sure didn't. After a shower that took about five minutes and throwing on his robes, the Gryffindor was left with nothing to do but twiddling thumbs and hoping that time would pass quickly. He'd been far too prone to getting caught up in anxious thoughts about how the evening would turn out, in various aspects. Even putting personal issues aside, several of the guests that would be attending were a cause for concern. It was with great shock that Harry had realised Snape would be there as a close family friend, as well as MacNair, the sadistic man who'd been looking forward to chopping Buckbeak's head off. Considering that apparently several allies from abroad had been invited too, Harry didn't think it was such a good idea to have someone here who curbed the population of magical animals for a living. It was made even worse as Séraphine Delacour had been killed by a former follower of the Dark Lord. Hopefully, Voldemort had a plan. Scratch that, the man always had a plan. Hopefully, he'd have a good plan.

''I can't sit here doing nothing,'' Harry finally exclaimed after having lain on his bed, staring at the ceiling for ten minutes. Even grabbing a random book in the library would be better, he figured, so Harry headed to the library to do exactly that. Only, he didn't actually manage to pull a book off the shelves, for he stopped in his tracks upon crossing the threshold. Draco stood at one of the windows on the opposite side of the room, staring down into the rainy garden below. As they were in the left wing of the house, there wasn't much to be seen from this vantagepoint except for pristinely managed shrubbery and the wild woods beyond.

''Hey,'' he spoke up, making the blonde jump and whirl around, wand in hand.

''Potter!'' Draco sighed, lowering it again.

''I thought we were on first name basis,'' Harry spoke, slowly walking closer. ''Were you looking at something? Or simply collecting your thoughts?'' It was obvious that something was bothering the other by how tense and jumpy he was. ''What the matter?'' he asked, really getting concerned now.

The blond sneered, but there was no malice in it. ''You are the matter,'' the boy quietly spoke, spine getting even more rigid. He turned around again and planted his hands on the windowsill, nails digging in the wood. ''This is not the right time to talk, not right before such an important event…''

''Is this about the forest? About Pansy?'' Harry guessed. He'd expected this to have been over already after their heart-to-heart talk where Draco had even apologised for running.

It was clear he'd struck a nerve when Draco's already pale face turned even whiter. ''I didn't realise all the implications before. Do my parents know that you are a… a Necromancer?'' he hissed. ''Do they know what danger you could be in?''

Taken aback, Harry only stared. ''You think I'm in danger for practicing Necromancy?'' he laughed incredulously. ''That is like… probably the tenth point down the list of why people would want to come after me.''

''It's still one that you carelessly flaunted!'' the other animatedly spoke. ''Merlin, I should have pestered my parents more about not taking you into the Malfoy family. You attract trouble wherever you go. A giant monster every year isn't enough! Playing games with Dumbledore and the Dark Lord isn't enough either! Oh no, you just had to get into the one branch of magic even most dark wizards avoid! Did you know that Necromancers get systematically hunted down?''

He wasn't going to lie, the words stung. ''Well, I'm sorry that I'm such trouble for you!'' he lashed out. ''Thank you very much for reminding me of the peril that always manages to find me. For your information, I didn't choose this! Do you know what it's like to be pressured and tricked into performing magic? I highly doubt it, because the precious perfect prince of Slytherin would never have to do something he didn't want to!''

The other took a step back and scrutinised him. Harry was still seething at the implication that his mere presence was a bother. At the same time, memories he'd rather wished to forget attempted to get to the forefront of his mind all at once. Sirius' wheezing breath, blood smeared across the floor, his parents slumping to the ground as they became mere corpses once again.

''What are you talking about? No-one was forcing you to use it on Pansy,'' Draco said in confusion.

Harry shook his head. This really was a bad time to broach this subject. It wouldn't be long now before the house would be flooded with strangers, in front of which he couldn't afford to be shaken. How could he possibly explain his motivations and the reluctant acceptance of a power he'd never wanted? The way he'd used that spell in order to get rid of side-effects he'd been experiencing? Not that it had worked. ''That something is unwanted does not mean that it should be locked away,'' he answered aggressively. Done with the conversation, he turned around with the intention of walking out and going to his new bedroom so he could quietly pretend he didn't exist. Before taking a single step towards the door though, his upper arm was firmly grabbed to hold him in place.

''Draco…'' he growled, fully ready to hex his 'brother'.

''Wait,'' the other replied. ''That... came out wrong. Everything. What I really want to say is: be careful.''

''Why do you care,'' he tiredly said, trying to shrug off the hand. ''It's not like you are responsible for me.''

''But I am!'' Draco exclaimed in frustration. ''Being the Heir of a family was never too big of a deal to me before. It just meant to me that I would follow in my father's footsteps and inherit some titles and wealth while needing to care only about the direct family I wish to build up in the future. Now, all of that changed as you became part of the house of Malfoy as well. Look, as much as I loathe to admit it, I realise that you have more power than I do now, both magically and politically. But I'd make for a lousy family head if I didn't take responsibility for your life. It is my sole duty to protect the Malfoy line, which now includes you!''

Finally, Harry saw Draco's outburst for what it was. ''You are worried for me?''

''Of course I'm worried, Scarhead! How could I not be?'' It came out almost exasperated.

''So far, I've conquered any monster that was out to get me,'' he replied, finding his sense of humour again. ''The only scary animal that attacked you was a Hippogriff, which you sent your daddy after unsuccessfully.''

''Not everyone has your knack for escaping the most impossible situations. Some of us are actually human, you know?'' At last, Draco let go of his arm and stowed his wand away again. ''I need you to understand that while I didn't initially want a family addition, I won't shirk from my responsibilities now you are here. What I'm asking of you is to not make it any harder. Which, if I have to believe my mother, you're not doing such a great job of if you're truly looking to add the Dark Lord to the family too.''

He probably should have expected the Malfoys to inform their son about Harry's date as well, but felt as if his privacy had been intruded upon. It looked as if Draco still clung onto the scrap of hope that it might have been a prank, by the way it was so casually mentioned. Taking a deep breath, Harry asked: ''Does this rank higher or lower on your trouble alarm than practicing Necromancy?''

Draco's expression fell. ''Oh Merlin,'' he muttered. ''That's true? Wait…'' he narrowed his eyes. ''At the start of the year, when you claimed I'd met the only person you slept with at Easter… that wasn't a joke?''

If there hadn't been so little time left in which Narcissa expected them both to be presentable, Harry might have relished longer in the expression of pure horror. As it was, he thought it better to clear up the misunderstanding. ''It was back then, or at least the implication. Although I'd slept in the same bed as him, there was only sleeping going on.'' This did not appear to calm Draco down as much as he'd hoped.

''You have the weirdest life, Potter. Truly. I cannot imagine the events that led to you sharing his bed and sleeping. I'd lie wide awake in terror at the mere thought!''

''Your Slytherin side is showing, coward,'' Harry grinned. ''It was a very enjoyable night.'' Before the other could comment on that, he turned serious. This past one-and-a-half day at the Malfoys had given him much-needed peace to mull over all thoughts regarding Voldemort and finally come to accept their new status. As far as he could recall, Harry wasn't the only one in a relationship though. ''Say, Draco. I have a question for you still. You said you were engaged, but I've never seen you with anyone. Unlike all the other couples I know at Hogwarts, you haven't spent any time locking lips with anyone in corridors. How does your relationship work?''

Draco responded by making a perplexed face. ''I'm engaged per contract, I don't consider myself to be in a relationship yet.''

Harry blinked, thrown off. ''Errr… maybe this is my Muggle upbringing, but don't people have relationships first and engagement is kind of the second step?''

That idea seemed highly amusing to the Slytherin, who only chuckled. ''Come now Potter, even Muggles have political marriages. I told you that I only have veto rights. I mean, I suppose that if the marriage really does not work there's always divorce, but I never expected to marry someone I fell in love with. I had a crush on a girl from Ravenclaw when I was younger, but found out that she was a Half-blood, so I'd never have received permission to be with her. Even if she would have felt the same, I'd never shame my family by eloping with someone my parents don't approve of.''

''That is… sad,'' Harry spoke with concern. ''Being forced to live in the same house and form a family with someone you're not romantically invested in sounds just wrong.''

Draco shrugged. ''We definitely have different opinions of right and wrong then. Besides, look at my parents. They weren't interested in each other in the slightest before marrying. Now, they would give their lives to protect one another. If that isn't love, what then?''

Unable to answer that, Harry merely shrugged. ''Thanks for speaking about this so openly. I'd been afraid that you'd just scoff at my questions.''

It looked as if the blond pondered on that for a moment, as Draco resumed his original position and stared out the window. ''Social ties of any kind are what shape the future of our family, my parents have been incredibly thorough in drilling that into my head. Of course, romantic relationships are an important factor to talk about. As a new addition to our family, it was bound to be one of the first things to come up. Say, this invitation to escort the Dark Lord today… was that only a gesture on his part? You didn't appear to have a clue when asking me about the card before. However, your earlier words about your 'enjoyable night', as well as the way you've interacted with him before lead me to think that there's more to it. Are you actually invested in him?''

Harry pondered over the answer he was willing to give to that. Draco had been known to be a tattle-tale in the past. As his sibling and Heir of the family he belonged to, the other likely deserved to know. ''I'm going to start off with that any and all information I give about this is absolutely confidential…''

The other rolled his eyes at the threat. ''I know, I know. Get on with it.''

He inhaled deeply. Merlin, was Draco Malfoy really the very first person he was going to tell this? ''It's difficult to explain exactly what I feel. I'd never imagined I'd even get along with him after being so afraid for three years. But since I searched him out, there was always something stalling my hand. Each time we speak, I have this urge to share my space and thoughts until I'm exhausted. Whether here on in my dreams, there's an undeniable force that ensures we always circle closer around each other. The best words to describe it is probably 'overwhelming', yet I never want it to stop.''

Pale cheeks flushed. ''A simple yes or no would have been a perfectly good answer to my question before, you didn't need to go into such detail,'' Draco answered, sounding scandalised. Not a second later though, he suddenly exclaimed. ''Hah, that means you lied to him. You are addicted!''

The Gryffindor laughed at the irony of it all. ''Right, I denied that before, didn't I? I suppose I am. It's admittingly frustratingly hard to communicate with him at times. Even sharing magic and feelings isn't always enough to erase misunderstandings. I found out only a few days ago that he considered us to be a couple for a while already. Turns out we had vastly different expectations of what 'getting together' looked like… Stop gaping, Draco. What would your mother say if she saw that? She's already tried to lecture me about wearing my emotions on my sleeve.''

''Let me get this clear, Potter,'' the other spoke, sounding nervous. ''You were so dense that you didn't notice you and the Dark Lord were together until this fucking week, and now you have your first official date as a couple at MY house? In front of every single member of the family and my parents' acquaintances? On the day that same Lord will be the centre of attention already because he's revealing he beat death itself?'' Draco looked like he would have let out an undignified scream if that wouldn't be below his status.

''To be fair, he'll manage to make himself the centre of attention at every party in the past, present and future so there's no need to specifically mention that,'' Harry quipped, finding all of this strangely hilarious. It was as if all of his mental strain had passed onto Draco instead, giving Harry the courage to deal with it without worrying about once again having hundreds of eyes scrutinising his every move. Maybe the way to go was simply to relax and see what happened.

''When are you even meeting him? The ball will start soon. Mother didn't mention when the Dark Lord would arrive, so I assume you will go to him first?''

Actually, in the whirl of everything else, Harry hadn't really thought about that. ''Oh err… No idea?'' he awkwardly spoke, scratching his head. ''Neither of us mentioned a meeting time or place to be honest. As I was supposed to help with decorating, I figured I'd go up to him when I see him.''

It was this that the Slytherin appeared most appalled about so far. ''What, you'll wait until he arrives and then… stroll up to him? Harry, that would be horrendously bad manners!''

Shrugging, he replied: ''It's not as if he put in a better effort either. It's a bit late to make new plans now. Besides…'' Harry trailed off, thinking about how Voldemort was likely to act. ''Me being his date to this event is not exactly what should be the main point of interest. He is a Lord of Magic, returning from the dead to reassume his duties, revealing himself to all whom are expected to give aid to our cause. I cannot imagine that he will arrive any sooner than when the doors have closed to all other visitors. It's not much of a grand entrance if he gets here mid-way with the rest of the guests and every new person who comes in sees him casually talking to other people already. No, he's a sucker for drama. Don't tell him I said that,'' he mentioned in afterthought.

Draco merely shook his head mutedly in response. He also wouldn't have had the opportunity to give a more elaborate reply, for in that moment, a bell rang out. ''Merlin, we need to head downstairs! Mother will be furious if neither of us is present to greet our visitors.'' He started pushing Harry towards the exit, then briefly paused and gave him a look-over with a weird expression.

''Where is your boutonniere?''

''Boutto… you mean that French soup?'' he asked in utter confusion.

''That's bouillabaisse, you idiot!'' Draco sneered, an impressive feat as he also continued dragging Harry down the hallway at the same time. ''Boutonniere! It's like a corsage! You've worn one at the Yule ball, haven't you?'' he asked, pointing at the white and green flower piece that was pinned to the front of Draco's own dress robes. They looked sickly pale compared to the combination of black velvet and silver satin Draco's attire was made of. Had he worn such a thing to the Yule ball, or any of the other parties? Harry was ninety percent certain that he'd never owned such a piece.

''Pretty sure I didn't, idiot. You know, this is why you're a shit seeker,'' he spoke in exasperation. ''If it means so much to you, let me grab something in my bedroom, I'll be downstairs in a minute.'' They'd already passed Harry's bedroom, but it wasn't too far back so he broke free of Draco's grip and sprinted down the corridor again, muttering under his breath about stupid dress codes. If Voldemort was wearing a corsage, he'd eat the pointy hat that was part of the Hogwarts school uniform but never worn by anyone who didn't want to look like Percy Weasley.

With care, Harry fished the dried flower that Voldemort had gifted him out of his school bag. To avoid the petals being damaged, he'd put a preservation spell on it that they'd learned during charms that was actually supposed to be used for storing potion ingredients longer. Harry had considered telling Snape about the spell during one of the many lessons where Harry had to prep new ingredients. Then again, Snape probably knew the spell and let things spoil on purpose to have an excuse to put students to work. That sounded just like the bastard.

Pleased to notice that the colour of the flower was very close to that of his dress robes and thus didn't stick out very much, Harry transfigured a loose thread into a pin. Getting it to stick in place was more difficult than he'd thought, so he ditched the pin again with disappointment and used a piece of spellotape instead. Good thing he'd never thrown out the roll he'd used to keep his glasses together whenever Dudley broke them again. It was a highly underrated piece of magical equipment in his opinion. Checking his reflection briefly in the mirror, wondering why someone who looked like him would catch the eye of anyone, much less Voldemort himself, Harry tried to flatten his hair in a last fruitful attempt to tame it. It didn't work. What a surprise.

As ready as he'd ever be - not saying much – the teen finally exited the safety of his bedroom to head into the snake den below. Music was already playing softly, and he heard many chattering voices even up here. Maybe it was because he and Sirius had arrived later last time, but he couldn't recall everyone being so excited or loud. Back then, there'd been several cliques who'd only talked to each other in hushed tones while picking at food. Nothing too eventful. As he opened the doors that led to the overlook however, Harry was met with a cacophony of sounds: ooh's and aah's and the excited exclamations of names as people greeted each other. Carefully, moving slowly to not catch anyone's attention, Harry snuck closer and peered over the balustrade down into the foyer below. The front doors were wide open, through which people entered in a neat queue, usually as couples. The family House-elf gathered the invitation cards and checked them over, while Draco was greeting every person individually and waved them through a large door on the right which Harry knew to lead to a wide, highly-decorative corridor that eventually ended in the ballroom.

It was disheartening to see that he barely recognised anyone, much less anyone he felt like speaking to. The only faces he knew so far of the people he'd seen pass had been the Death Eaters Avery and Proudfoot, whom he wasn't particularly familiar with. Maybe he should stay up here a bit longer until he saw at least one friendly face…

As soon as the thought entered his mind, someone unexpected crossed the threshold and confidently held out her invitation. She looked dazzling as always and was, surprisingly, alone.

''Fleur!'' he called out, waving as she looked up. He hurried down the stairs, eyes fixed on his friend even as he noticed the room falling silent around them.

'''Arry!'' she smiled warmly, hoisting up her heavy skirts a tad to meet him halfway. She grasped the hand he held out and enclosed it between hers. '''Ow long it 'az been!''

''Absolutely! Did you come all the way here from France for the evening?''

Herr tinkling laughter sounded like the ringing of silver bells. ''Of course not, silly. I 'ave been working in London for a while. Gringotts eez a very interesting place to be.''

''If I'd known, I would have contacted you,'' Harry spoke. ''I was in London over the Christmas holidays.'' Her smile faltered a bit before it was plastered on again, and Harry got a very strange feeling. ''Oh well, better late than never. Should I show you the ballroom?'' he asked awkwardly, guessing that she didn't know many people here either. She nodded tentatively and let him lead her away from the foyer. Draco could probably deal alone with the other guests like he had every year, like he would have had to do if Harry wouldn't have been taken in by the Malfoys. It was a good excuse for him to duck out of this social responsibility.

''It eez good to know zat you did not lose your manners,'' she commented softly while he escorted her through the corridor that led to the main event. ''Despite ze… new company.''

Harry faltered and cast a side-way glance at her suddenly crestfallen expression. All the glamour of before was gone. He saw the tension in her face, the sadness in her eyes. ''Fleur..?'' he hesitantly asked, hand numbing as her fingers closed around his in an iron grip. He glanced down the corridor in worry, but it was empty apart from them. Draco was entertaining a bunch of guests in the foyer, it seemed, and the ones who had previously entered had already moved to the ballroom. ''What is wrong?''

''Balls and pleasantries,'' she whispered with disdain. ''I realise just 'ow naïve I was last year. To zink zat all four of us could change ze world by sticking togezer. And where are we now, 'arry? When did everyzing become so blurred?'' a few strands of hair came loose as she shook her head. ''Does Cedric know what game 'e is caught up on by agreeing to be a spokesperson? Does Viktor know what 'e narrowly avoided? Zey are so far away from me… And you-'' she took a deep breath. ''Does a rebel like you really fit wiz zis crowd?''

''They did a lot for me that they didn't have to,'' Harry answered, feeling uncomfortable now. ''True, it's not really my scene, but why couldn't it be if I let it?''

''Because tradition does not treat outsiders well,'' she sagely stated. ''Do you still wish for 'armony?''

''I do!'' he firmly said, grasping her hands just as tightly now. ''Beings of all kinds and backgrounds can learn to work together.''

''You did not surround yourself wiz people who tend to agree.''

''And you did?'' he challenged. ''You were invited here just the same.''

She stiffened. ''I still do not know why. Zey were rather insistent too. I 'ad ozer plans for zis evening and declined at first. I was… strongly advised against doing so.''

Bewildered, Harry realised what she was saying. ''You were threatened into attending a ball?'' he asked. In that moment, a group of stern-looking aristocrats strode down the hallway towards them, casting suspicious glances at them both. Fleur's smile was frozen in place again, while Harry tried to look anywhere else than into the cold eyes of their observers. ''Well... let's not rest until we find out why then,'' he told Fleur when the group had moved past them, out of earshot.

''Always so straight-forward. I'm glad zat didn't change eizer,'' she spoke, finally showing a hint of a true smile again. ''I was very mad at you for a while. For lying to me for so long. You knew exactly who Monsieur Noctua was even during ze last Task, didn't you?''

''I did,'' he admitted. ''However, I knew just as little as you that the Cup was a Portkey, or what he had planned. I barely knew what was going on behind the scenes back then.'' He stilled when realising that Voldemort was still not very open about revealing what he was up to when Harry was at Hogwarts. It was only through Barty that he finally found out about the Hand of Magic's current actions. That needed to change. Studying was all well and good, but how important was learning about past wars when another was possibly looming on the horizon that he could help prevent when being informed enough?

Fleur stared off into the distance. ''Per'aps zat is why I decided to come today after all. Zeir attempt at intimidation rose fury in me most of all. But also curiosity. Somezing is going on be'ind a curtain I cannot wait to lift. Come, do show me ze main event, 'Arry,'' she spoke, now looking impatient. She looped her arm through his and they walked along in silence. As the Malfoys had instructed, he went straight for the altar to leave an offering upon entering. Fleur seemed to know the decorum, as she too picked up a petal from the right cauldron, which glowed for a few second before she dipped it into the spring water and lastly pushed it into the soil, joining the many that had been offered before. Hoping he was doing this right, Harry followed her example, focusing on pure magic. He wasn't certain if it worked, for the petal didn't really glow as hers had done, but it did look fresher somehow, healthier. Fleur had already turned around before Harry was done and complained loudly about the decorations in the same way she had done when first setting foot in Hogwarts.

''Ah, 'ow gaunt! During ze Ostara galas in Bordeaux, ze 'alls are filled with nature! Where are all ze animals? Why are zere no more zan a few sprigs of green smattered on ze walls?'' she exclaimed. ''And ice on a spring fest!''

It took no more than a few seconds for Narcissa to notice and join them, looking absolutely ready to devour the person who was criticising her skills. ''Ah, I am certain that someone who came from the cradle of art must be shocked at the unsophisticated ways of backwater folks,'' Narcissa spoke with a razor-sharp smile that put more fear in Harry than Voldemort and Snape combined.

''Oh my, you must 'ave misunderstood, dear madam,'' Fleur answered, placing a hand in front of her mouth. ''I merely wished to make some tasteful suggestions for next time. If, of course, zere will be a next time…'' she let her gaze wander over the room as if she couldn't believe that anyone would dare repeat a disaster such as this party. ''Zen again, Ze Yule Ball at 'ogwarts also lacked in style, so it might be an integral fault of ze English.'' Harry wished that his friend would stop talking, as more than a few hateful glares were on her now. Oddly enough, Fleur seemed to be thriving.

''I prefer to have faults in unimportant matters such as style instead of crucial ones like warfare,'' Narcissa shot back with a sweet smile. ''The last surrender of the French was… painful. The fifth in a row, I believe?'' Both women chuckled for a moment, sizing each other up.

''Painful indeed. Settling it in more personal manners might 'ave been smarter,'' Fleur spoke. ''But at least we 'ad tasteful food and wine to swallow down ze defeat. I cannot imagine celebrating wizout ze bare essentials to satisfy ze taste palette. Alzough I must admit, the banquet today looks lovely. I seem to recognise most dishes as French?'' she asked, batting her eyelashes a few times. Harry was pondering on how long he could watch this go down. They didn't really need a bloodbath even before Voldemort showed up, did they?

Then, the oddest thing happened. Before his own two eyes, the women shared an amiable embrace. Harry was still trying to figure out when the conversation had shifted from 'hostile' to 'friendly' when Narcissa had long since poured Fleur a glass of honey liquor and they were chatting away about the 'lovely garden'. Compared to the conversation he'd just witnessed, Voldemort' communication skills didn't appear so disastrous anymore.

"Narcissa! You ever-fragrant flower, delight of the Black family line, cousin of mine and guardian of my Godson..." Releasing a breath of relief at the voice, Harry turned to see Sirius striding in. It didn't look like the man had any plans to fit in with the crowd, as he was wearing his usual studded, leather muggle jacket and ripped jeans.

"Cousin Sirius... have you been drinking already?" Narcissa coolly answered.

Typically, Sirius pretended not to hear that. "And who is this delightful creature I see before me? Never a more gilded rose have my eyes seen!" he crooned, making Harry cringe at his godfather's poor choice of words.

For once, Fleur appeared to be thrown off, a hint of panic in her look. She recovered within moments however and answered: ''I do believe 'is name is 'Arry Potter.'' Not knowing whether to feel betrayed or laugh, Harry opted for breaking up the situation by going in for a hug from his godfather. ''It's great to have you here,'' he muttered, then turned to the others again. ''You should know Fleur Delacour, she was only the best Champion of the Triwizard Tournament,'' Harry scolded the man. ''Was at the Cup first but too gallant to be crowned sole winner.''

''Ah, forgive me,'' Sirius corrected, doing a comical bow and grasping Fleur's outstretched hand. ''I did try to keep up with the results of the Tournament, but was a bit busy being chased across the country. Eventful life and all that,'' he grinned. ''Which reminds me, Cissy. Like last year, I hope you've ensured…''

''Of course, you are entirely safe here. Now more than last time,'' she added. ''Considering your joyful change of heart.''

''Yes, joyful,'' he grimaced. ''Ah, apologies,'' he spoke to Fleur when noticing he still held her hand. ''Sirius Black, at your service. Head of the Black family, Lord of who-knows what, please don't talk politics to me because I really don't want to open a can of worms here,'' he grinned, receiving a tight smile back.

''Fleur Delacour, 'eir of the Delacour line. I 'appen to care about politics, considering zey affect every aspect of my life.''

Harry coughed awkwardly as the atmosphere thickened. ''Sirius is chill with beings and beasts of every kind,'' he quickly threw in to defend his godfather. ''Best friend's a werewolf and he rescued a Hippogriff that was sent to be executed.'' This did appear to improve Fleur's opinion greatly, even as Sirius hissed something about Harry being too loud about Witherwings.

They slowly settled in conversation as the ballroom began to fill even more. Narcissa excused herself, while Fleur and Sirius had a talk about werewolves. Somewhere during it, the young woman finally voiced her previous discomfort by asking if he was, perchance, the same man who'd been in the news two years ago, after which Harry and Sirius both spent a significant amount of time to clear up the misconception about Sirius being some crazy killer on the loose. Harry had almost forgotten that he might run into people who didn't know the truth about that to some degree here. Everyone who'd been firmly on Voldemort's side during the war knew that Sirius hadn't been one of them, after all.

As the hour passed, Harry spotted several other people he actually did know. He caught up with some of the Slytherin members of the D.A. who'd been invited and got hauled over by Daphne and Astoria to talk to their parents for a while, who'd apparently been rather hesitant about the whole ordeal of Harry getting taken under the wings of the Malfoys. Judging by the exchange between Fleur and Narcissa earlier, Harry figured that it would take years before being well-versed enough in the social rules to make conversation without accidentally insulting anyone, so he tried to say little and end conversations early. That in itself might have been an insult too, which he thought of only after having wandered around the ballroom to search for Barty, who surely should be here somewhere as well. After failing to find the man, Harry at last returned to his godfather's side, who was still animatedly talking to Fleur. Harry truly hoped that the man wasn't getting too affected by the Veela charm that apparently surrounded her. She seemed to hate it when that happened.

He doubted that it should happen to Sirius though. Harry didn't have any problems with it, so all it took was a bit of willpower, which his godfather had in spades.

''I'm relieved that my godson is spending some time with a lovely lady like you!'' the man boomed, grinning wildly as he grabbed onto Harry's shoulder and dragged him into the talk again. ''He sure needs some more decent company! Two Champions together, wouldn't that be the talk of the year!''

''Sirius…'' Harry spoke in a warning tone, while Fleur merely raised her eyebrows and politely replied:

'''E is a good friend, but not really my type. As I am sure I am not 'is.''

The man shrugged. ''Shame, Harry here needs to broaden his horizons a bit more in my opinion.''

Getting hot in the face and annoyed by his godfather's words, he heatedly spoke: ''I do not wish to discuss this with you right now. You know my answer to that.''

''Harry…'' the other whined.

The teen opened his mouth again to tear through Sirius's delusions. Right before the first word could leave his lips however, he forgot entirely what he wanted to say when a familiar feeling caressed his spine. Following it to the source of origin, Harry's eyes sought out the flight of stairs leading up to a similar overlook as the one in the foyer. There, behind a large pillar, he was sure to see movement…

Trembling as a stronger wave of magic washed over him, Harry turned away from his friend and godfather, attention focused solely on the spot where he knew Voldemort to stand, observing the crowd from the shadows. Sirius was trying to say something, but the Gryffindor shushed him impatiently, waiting with abated breath. The level of power increased, each surge of magic stronger than the next. One by one, people stopped their chattering and inadvertently turned towards the staircase as well, straining their necks to see better.

Only when absolute silence had descended upon the room, did the Dark Lord appear in full view. Even if he would have wanted to, Harry wouldn't have been able to look away, none of them could. Voldemort descended the staircase ever so gracefully, inky robes fluttering around his bare feet, which were barely distinguishable in colour from the marble beneath them. He wore no elaborate dress robes, did not need to, but around his head lay a wreath of blood-red leaves that complimented his eyes. Vaguely, Harry wondered if that counted and he had to eat his hat now. The man stilled halfway, letting his gaze travel slowly across the room, drinking in the looks of awe and fear all around. For a few long seconds, the ruby stare locked directly onto Harry.

It was well over a minute until Voldemort at last addressed the crowd he'd regarded so coolly. ''Your eyes do not deceive you. I stand before you, the same as fourteen years ago. My enemies believed me defeated and celebrated my downfall. A derisible belief, for even death itself could not keep me from fulfilling the tasks given to me by Magic. This should have been obvious to each and every one of you who served me well in the past.'' He let the words sink into the silent crowd. When speaking again, his voice held a sharp edge. ''And yet, I was deeply shaken, disappointed, to learn how precious little remained of our efforts. Even some of my most faithful allowed society to slide back into the grip of incompetent fools who wished nothing more than to erase my influence. And all the while, the gap between dark and light magic widened while all of you stood back and did nothing in fear. We are standing on the precipice of a point of no return,'' he hissed in warning. Even the whispers carried far and clear.

''You should count yourself fortunate then, that not everyone allowed themselves to wallow in helplessness. The rumours that started almost two years ago were true. I have taken up my mantle again for quite some time, fought so that our kind will be able to achieve freedom and greatness. Some of you were already fortunate enough to take part in this. My loyal Death Eaters, step forward.''

One by one, figures loosened themselves from their little groups and kneeled down at the base of the staircase. Harry recognised a few of them: Lucius, Snape, Yaxley, MacNair and Proudfoot. Another nine he'd never seen joined them, eight men and a woman. He wasn't sure what to think of the fact that Voldemort had clearly gathered more of his old Death Eaters than Harry had known about. Sure, he'd started the Hand of Magic and likely needed people he already knew to command various groups, but from what he'd heard of Barty, many of the old Inner Circle had been bloodthirsty and sadistic purists. Or were these new followers that had been promoted quickly? That was also a possibility, of course.

''I am certain that you have many a question. How I survived despite all odds, where I spent my years, what great magic I have been working since my return. The truth is, none of you have done enough to earn that knowledge. Only those kneeling before me now have started repaying the debt they saddled themselves with when denouncing my name to stay out of Azkaban.'' Harry could feel the anger that simmered beneath Voldemort's façade, the betrayal he felt when taking in the faces of those who'd claimed to be on his side before. ''What I will tell you about is the future. We owe it to the next generation to repair the damage that's been done. The efforts of war were a product of their time and may not be repeated.'' There was movement now, all around, as people looked at each other in shock. Clearly, they'd expected the Dark Lord's revelation to be synonymous with a declaration of a new war. ''Unfortunately, the same enemies as before are working to undermine our ideals. Dumbledore and his Order, the Ministry with its Aurors. We shall naturally not sit back idly if they were to launch an attack. But for now… I have other plans. Plans that are unfolding as we speak, ones anyone of you may partake in once your loyalty has been proven as unwavering.

In the meantime, all I am asking for is trust and secrecy. It shouldn't need to be said that the revelation of my resurrection is a privilege extended only to those present today, my faithful believers. For all of you who were adults fourteen years ago, consider this your last chance. For the new generation, consider this an opportunity to prove yourself. There is a higher purpose calling for us all, by the grace of the power that flows in our veins. Magic is the only thing on this world that matters, for magic is might.'' The passionate words were underscored by an invisible force that rushed through the room again, a strong wind that Harry felt into the depths of his core. By the way that left and right, people instinctively grasped the front of their robes near their heart, he wasn't the only one. Like the Death Eaters before them, everyone sank to their knees as Voldemort continued his descent, hands reaching out to grasp the hem of his robes as he walked past. It took a moment for Harry's brain to catch up to the fact that the Dark Lord was heading straight towards him.

''Now, there is one debt that has to be addressed still, as I'm sure many of you have wondered about. For I did not vanish without a cause. And the cause… is right here.'' Eyes all around were focused on the both of them, Voldemort's towering form and Harry's rigid one.

''The doubts around the Malfoy's decision to become the guardians of Harry James Potter has naturally reached my ears. Be at ease then, to know that it was I who arranged for this. In the years where I was weakened, only four mages came to my aid. One of those has died. One betrayed me afterwards. Another is my most loyal servant who has been rewarded beyond his wildest dreams. And the last… the last one has more than made up for killing me.'' A cold hand settled onto Harry's shoulder, and the teen tried to search Voldemort's face while analysing his emotions at the same time. He was touched when finding sheer pride, just like the time Voldemort had defended Harry in front of some of the Death Eaters.

''At mere thirteen years old, he was clever enough to find me and brave enough to face me alone despite our history. Together, we uncovered the web of lies woven around him. No-one has fought harder for my survival than this young man. For that, I granted him unparalleled protection. None of you shall ever contest either his worth, his power or his loyalty,'' he spoke in warning. ''Harry is the one exception to the taboo.''

The words confused the teen, before he recalled Molly Weasley's explanation about the taboo curse. While it wasn't in effect anymore, both Voldemort's allies and most of his enemies followed it just the same. He'd been granted official permission to speak Voldemort's name. Which was surely considered a grant gesture by most present, but Harry had to hold back a smile as this was more likely the Dark Lord's way of shoving Harry's 'disrespect' under the rug. It was appreciated, for it got really tiring to get scolded for saying 'Voldemort' when the man had not corrected Harry since they'd become friends - not that he'd ever consistently stopped doing so before that point.

''Do you have anything to add to that, yourself?'' the man asked, squeezing his shoulder gently.

Did he…? Not really, Harry simply wished to disappear. But he couldn't, not now. This might be the only chance he ever got to address every single one of the Dark Lord's followers while they listened attentively, he owed it to everyone he wished to protect in the future to say something.

''Yes, I do,'' he thus spoke loud and clear, trying to imagine these were all simply members of the D.A. during a training session. It worked as he focused on those people who actually belonged to it. Adrian, Theodore, Pansy (the latter staring with wide eyes), Astoria, Draco, Daphne…

''Magic is might, I firmly believe that. But might means responsibility, something which I have found Voldemort to carry with dignity, yet have seen little of in some of the ones among you whom I have met in the past. I have joined this cause in hope for a better world for all, not an exclusionist group who think they're better than the rest. All who can practise dark magic could help us to restore balance, so it is our responsibility to try to convince them to aid us and accept them as our own, be it Muggleborns or non-humans.''

~Evan,~ Voldemort quietly hissed in exasperation.

~You wanted me to speak as Harry Potter, so I am,~ he challenged. ~You're right that they would never accept such a seemingly unexpected change of heart from you. But they must accept that you work with people who have these views. What was the point otherwise of inviting some of our allies from France here?~ Voldemort merely sighed and sent a threatening glare towards those who looked ready to protest.

''In short, keep that in mind if you ever hope to fight at my side,'' Harry smiled cheerily. ''I hope you'll all thoroughly enjoy the ball now. Mr and Mrs Malfoy did their absolute best to make this evening perfect.'' His announcement was met with a couple of uncertain looks. Were they really all that hardcore against impure blood? Sheesh.

''You heard him,'' Voldemort spoke, ''let the ball commence.'' Oh, so they'd been waiting to see if the Dark Lord would condone Harry's dismissal. That was a much better explanation than racism. ~I would have appreciated to have the last word,~ the Dark Lord commented, eyes narrowing to slits.

Harry awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. ~Sorry, I thought you were done after that whole speech. Didn't know you'd planned to make it even longer.~ He then gazed up to inspect the man's face. ~Interesting fashion choice, those leaves. Did you crown yourself emperor?~

~It's an Ostara wreath,~ Voldemort stiffly replied.

~Riiight, a wreath. Ninety-nine percent sure that's just an excuse to wear a crown,~ he quipped.

~Don't be so dismissive of it, Evan.~ Voldemort spoke in all seriousness. ~Blood beech leaves are an ancient symbol. Germanic tribes offered sacrifices to these trees as they were seen as a symbol from the gods of nature. Although we honour magic, Muggles created their own version of it and prayed to Ostara, goddess of dawn, spring and new life, whose symbol was the blood beech as its leaves would start sprouting around the Spring Equinox. Speaking of symbolism, I must wonder why you opted to wear a dried flower to a spring celebration.~

~I… well…~ Harry stammered, touching the flower. ~You gave this to me…~

~Obviously. And?~ the man asked with a puzzled look.

And Harrison was trying to catch your eye with it, what is so hard to understand about that!~ Harry jumped at the voice, he'd been so caught up in staring at Voldemort that he'd entirely overlooked Nagini. Looking around wildly however, he still didn't see her. The Dark Lord sighed and pulled his left sleeve back, where a tiny Nagini was clinging to his arm. Harry had to hold back a cooing sound at how she looked, large yellow eyes blinking up at him.

''Harry, watch out!'' Sirius exclaimed behind him, making Harry lose balance as he was dragged behind his godfather, who gripped his wand tightly and stared hard at the snake. ''It might be venomous!''

The teen gave Sirius a bewildered look, while Voldemort froze and wore a murderous expression, especially when Nagini jerked and curled up even tighter at the sight of the wand. ''Of course she's venomous,'' Harry spat. ''Sirius, I appreciate your concern, but you don't need to be my bodyguard. Nowhere is safer than right here.'' His godfather didn't seem to hear a word he said for a moment, but finally released Harry after a couple of long seconds, guilt colouring his face.

''I'm sorry, I… it just came over me,'' he muttered, shooting Voldemort a few unsure glances. ''Habit. Excuse me.'' He took a deep breath, then stowed his wand away.

''You're on thin ice, Black,'' the Dark Lord murmured, before turning his attention to Harry again. The teen didn't miss how quiet the crowd around them was. Not many stood close, naturally trying to avoid getting in Voldemort's personal space, but all were listening. Only Fleur and Sirius stood near them, though Fleur looked very much like it was taking much willpower not to step back. ~She is still uncomfortable around other people~ Voldemort explained, getting back to the topic of Nagini as if they hadn't been interrupted before. ~I shrank her so she can be closer to me more easily. Considering how afraid many people are of snakes, it would not have been a good start if half the room would have tried to scramble for the exit during my entrance only because of Nagini being draped all over me. I am not carrying you any further though,~ he warned, allowing her to slide to the ground. By the reaction around them as Nagini started to grow in size, the decision to not have her be visible during the initial speech had been sound. Within seconds, the open area around them became much wider. The only person that Nagini instantly threw herself on however, was the only one who hadn't moved a muscle. Harry tried not to wince as the heavy snake wound tightly around him in an attempt to imitate a hug.

~Watch over each other for a while, I have business to take care of,~ the man spoke, a hint of amusement reaching Harry even though it was not audible in his voice. Voldemort strode away before Harry had a chance to reply - not that he could say anything with a massive snake putting all of her weight on his chest, it was all he could do to draw enough oxygen as she snuggled him. Harry attempted to calm her enthusiasm a tad by slowly stroking the scales on top of her head, which did indeed make her relax. By the time she loosened a little bit, the Dark Lord had already distanced himself. Sparks of magic shot through the air and another wave of pure force washed over Harry. It looked like the man was paying homage to magic at the altar he'd set up, and as Harry couldn't see it through the crowd, he instead tried to pay attention to the pleasant feelings that were mentally shared between them.

Ever so slowly, conversation started up again. Fleur moved on, having spotted some of her fellow countrymen, which left just Harry and Sirius. Wanting to keep an eye on his godfather in case other slip-ups would happen, Harry remained where he was, finally getting Nagini to cooperate enough that she coiled up at his feet, so he had a bit of breathing and talking space again. He used the opportunity to ask about everything that had been going on recently in Sirius' life. It appeared the Order was in downright chaos, attempting to figure out their enemies' plans without success. All members were scattered on different missions that had so far not brought any results, so they occupied the house often to form new strategies. It sounded as if Sirius didn't mind that at all, and the teen was reminded by how cheerful his godfather had been about having more people around. Maybe it did him some good, even if he'd have to live with the knowledge of working against his friends now for Harry's sake. Speaking of friends…

''Hey, Sirius… do you happen to know where Barty is?'' he asked.

The other blinked in surprise as his rant about Mundungus being annoying was interrupted. ''Crouch? Said he had some very important security issues to take care of. I assumed he was checking the wards around this place. I expect him to show up at some point in the next hour. This house is humongous. Why do you ask?''

Shrugging, he attempted to sound casual when saying: ''I happen to know it was Barty who insisted you were invited today. I'd figured you'd show up together, so was surprised to find him missing. We had a talk last weekend which I fear may have left us on the wrong foot. I'd hoped to talk to him again.''

''Sorry kiddo, I'll let you know if I spot him. You know, Crouch is actually pretty decent… for one of them.''

''I am one of them,'' he sighed, wondering if he should even spend any energy on this topic - again. ''And you should be glad that I am, for the alternative would be far worse. Sirius, let's just enjoy the evening, okay?''

''Right, right…'' the other agreed quickly, motioning a house-elf over to get two glasses of mead, which Harry was quick to protest against. ''They don't appear to have Butterbeer, kiddo. I'm also your godfather, so if I say it's okay, I'm sure not even Malfoy can protest.'' Harry still insisted, switching the glass out for some pumpkin juice. Neither of his new guardians had specifically allowed or forbidden drinking alcohol, but as Harry hadn't grown fond of the stuff in the first place, he didn't want to risk their scorn just to please Sirius' rebel side.

As they both fell silent, Harry used the time to observe Voldemort's trek through the room, concentrating on whatever feelings he could pick up, combined with trying to cast sneaky glances at the Dark Lord. He moved with confidence from one group to another, working small pieces of wandless magic and having long talks with a chosen few. Harry craned his neck to see better when Voldemort reached the group Fleur had joined, which consisted of a few creatures. Harry thought he'd seen some of them before, but couldn't be entirely certain. It had been eight months since that short visit at Fleur's house after all, after what had already been an eventful day full of new impressions which had ended with Harry's hasty departure as the Order had been tasked to collecting him on short notice. The man pulled Fleur aside, and a few minutes of talking later, her face morphed to shock. Harry would give anything to have one of the Weasley's extendable ears right now to figure out what they were talking about. Technically, he could just walk up to them, but that would be incredible impolite, wouldn't it be? He'd ask one of them later what that had been about, that was for certain.

As minutes ticked by, several people came up to him and attempted to start a conversation, such as Lucius and Pansy, but it was rather awkward as everyone halted about two yards away due to the small fact that he still had a twelve-foot-long snake around who liked to playfully snap at any who dared venture too close. Upon inquiry whether she could please stop doing so, Nagini proudly exclaimed that she'd gotten specific permission for it, which really shouldn't have surprised Harry as much as it did. The bastard. So much for trust.

At long last, the doors on the overlook opened, through which Barty entered. It was odd to see his friend in dress robes instead of his usual short-cut ones. Barty clearly didn't give a damn about his clothing, as he wore a strange combination of colours. Honestly, by this point Harry couldn't fathom why Narcissa had cared so much, when the people Harry was most likely to surround himself with didn't either. Sirius in his muggle clothing, Voldemort in a plain robe he wore every day (as much as one could consider silk 'plain') and Barty with whatever this eye-stinging creation was.

Voldemort halted his current conversation to pull attention to Barty. ''Ah, my most faithful has joined,'' he exclaimed with a satisfied note, not giving anyone an opportunity to criticise the blond Death Eater's late arrival. ''Bartemius, do introduce yourself to those who haven't had the pleasure of your company yet.''

''I'd be more than happy to, my Lord,'' the man grinned, bowing. ''You're looking at yours truly, Barty Crouch, real owner of the title 'first to escape Azkaban'. Sorry Black!'' he yelled across the room, to which Sirius gave a similar shit-eating grin and a wave.

''I still say it doesn't count if you got help!''

''The vote about that is still running!'' Barty shouted once more. ''Ignore him. Anyway, I'm not one for elaborate talks, more a man of action. Just know that I'm likely to be the last face you'll see if you decide that our side isn't for you after all. Stay on the right track, and you might never have anything to do with me. That's all.''

The speech had been short and effective if Barty's goal had been to confuse. Across the room, people were sticking their heads together, likely to ask if any of their associates had more information, which Harry figured only the marked Death Eaters had. With a feeling of déjà vu, Harry watched as Barty parted the crowd on his way straight towards him.

XxX

The masses, the looks, the atmosphere… he'd missed this. How many years had it been since he'd officially acted upon his role as a Dark Lord in front of his people? The closest he'd come was spearheading raids alongside Death Eaters these past months, but that was different. Everywhere, he'd had to hide away, disguise himself or only reveal his presence to a handful of people at once. No longer. Though the general public would still need to be oblivious to his return, there were now over two hundred people in the know. All assembled in this place, he had enough time and opportunities to spread his voice, drape his presence all over the cogwheels of politics.

A few words here, a charm there and they were like clay in his hands. It helped that the rich and influential were the ones most attracted to his power. Their cowardice would neither be forgotten nor forgiven, but he could not deny that it had its uses now. The Scabior family for example had supported his ideology before, yet had not had anything of worth to offer during the first war. That had significantly changed in the past years. Eleanora Scabior was now a supervisor in the invisibility task force and led the team responsible for - among other things - the maintenance of the complex concealment charms around Azkaban, while her husband had climbed the ranks in St. Mungo's from a scrawny apprentice to a Mediwizard who was deployed for important events. Only their children, fresh graduates from Hogwarts, hadn't accomplished anything of note yet. Voldemort would be sure to keep an eye on their oldest son though, as Oritis was rumoured to have a large mouth and the curses to back it up. Not someone he wanted to mess up his plans with arrogance, so Oritis would need to be kept away from the Ministry and rather diverted to join the Hand of Magic to channel his strengths.

And so, he roamed around, getting to know his assets personally rather than through descriptions of his Death Eaters. Each and every one of them was a stepping stone on the path to victory. He'd need to be more careful than during the war, unable to afford another major loss. Ten of his Death Eaters had been captured, and another twenty of the current inmates were certain or possible supporters who had been imprisoned for various crimes. A crippling loss indeed when taking into account how few they were – though not as much as feared when he'd pulled almost half of the country on his side last time around. It had paid off to form small groups, so one person would never know everyone else involved. But that had been another time, one of turmoil and bloodshed. To quietly take over from the inside, he'd need a large, well-connected network instead in which each person was aware of whom their allies or enemies were to not sabotage each other accidentally.

Not actively starting another war was perhaps the most difficult personal decision he'd had to make, as he deeply craved violence. Only the knowledge that it would not serve his purpose stilled his hand. Inside, the hunger gnawed. It had been weeks since the last time he'd seen the light of life dim in the eyes of a foe. It made him restless and impatient… His eyes drifted past his conversation partner towards the spot he'd left Harry in. Maybe it was time to finally spend some time with the one he'd invited to accompany him to get these thoughts off his mind. Ironically, the only eyes in which he'd thankfully failed to see the light leave had the colour of the very curse that had enabled him to bring death upon so many.

After quickly ending the talk with Zabini, he observed Harry from afar for a while, noticing that the teen appeared to be in a heated discussion with Barty and Black, who'd dragged him to various corners of the room by now. Whatever had possessed Barty to go out of his way to get Black invited, Voldemort still wasn't certain of. Their strange friendship, which Barty unsuccessfully tried to hide – was a factor he hadn't accounted for when agreeing to bring the man back to life. For now, he'd wait and see what came of it, so far there had been no negative consequences. On the contrary, Black appeared to waver in his hatred against the side he'd so tirelessly fought before, which also benefited Harry in the end. How much that was to accredit to the charms placed upon the man, both through the signed contract and the influence of death magic? It was a shame that a certain protective godson was standing in the way of dissecting Black's brain…

Setting thoughts about Harry's companions aside, it struck him that Harry looked rather… fetching. It suited him to have shown up in a robe ready for a battle, while his hair appeared to be right in the middle of one. The way it never failed to be tousled as if he'd just rolled out of bed was incredibly attractive. Voldemort was surprised as the word came to him. He'd certainly enjoyed the teen's company before and had felt more attraction than he'd been comfortable with, but he'd always been pulled to the way Harry acted. The stubborn voice, hot-headed passionate speeches or surprisingly insightful words had been what had given rise to the wish to make this delightful creature his alone. Even the desire for physical contact had come to the forefront due to a mixture of the way their magic acted together and the inner craving for something he never had – a need he still attempted to deny. This was possibly the first time he really took the time to admire just how handsome his partner was. Curious. With Regulus, it had rather been the opposite, the young man's features catching his eye first…

Voldemort narrowed his eyes as two people walked up to the arguing trio – Henric Murton and his youngest, Adelaide. The Dark Lord hadn't exchanged many words with Henric today. The Murton family was here solely due to intermarriage and business relations with more prominent families, Voldemort currently had no plans for them. After a quick scan of Murton's mind to see how loyal he'd remain, Voldemort had quickly left. That the man now walked up to Harry with his daughter in tow did not sit well with him, considering the Murton's reputation of hanging onto the wealth of others. ''Amplio Praecisionem'' he whispered under his breath to hear better. The background noise became blurrier, whereas the voices he wished to overhear suddenly seemed to stand next to him.

''Mr Harry Potter! A delight to finally meet you. Adelaide has spoken oftentimes of your excellent abilities in sport!''

''Has she now…'' Harry answered with, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. ''Aren't you one of Pansy's friends?'' Voldemort was pleased to pick up hostility. He tried to connect better to the teen's feelings as well to sort through all the confusing waves of emotions in hopes of picking up undertones that he might miss otherwise.

''Well, I wouldn't say friends,'' the girl answered with a forced smile. ''She is more someone I… look up to. Although considering all the new impressions of today, my admiration for her has diminished. I wanted to apologise for believing everything she said. I'm sure you'll hear that more often today, but I was wrong and would like to make amends.''

''Ah, such a humble spirit my daughter has!'' Henric jovially chortled. ''You know, Mr Potter, Adelaide and I were thinking of ways to make you feel a bit more welcome, it must be odd to suddenly be plunged into this whole-'' he didn't bother finishing the sentence, gesturing vaguely towards the rest of the room. Voldemort gritted his teeth as Harry responded positively and even tried to shoo Nagini a bit behind him so Henric could hold out a hand for Harry, Black and Barty to shake. Could Harry not see that this was obviously a nefarious attempt to get them all to drop their guards? Several ideas of Murton's motives to approach the surprising addition to their forces crossed his mind, and he liked none of them. Even less as the man was trying to use his own daughter's connection to Harry to get closer. Should he interfere?

Voldemort only realised that he'd been digging his nails into the palm of his hand when skin broke and a sharp sting of pain shot through him. Perhaps he was overreacting, he mused while quickly healing the cut… Their talk a few days ago had not been forgotten, where the teen had explicitly told him to stand aside and show some trust. How could he, when Harry's naivety melted away all caution with a few laughs here and an apology there? It took a great deal of willpower to stay where he was instead of ensuring that Henric Murton would never be able to utter that grating laugh again.

''- and I thought, what better way than with Quidditch?''

Adelaide chimed in to continue her father's line of thought: ''Yes, it'd be a thrill to watch a game with someone who has so much inside knowledge!''

With disbelief, Voldemort watched as both Black and Harry shared an excited look at the prospect of Quidditch. And Barty just stood there and watched, arms crossed, a neutral expression on his face. If he could not rely on his most trusted to step in, who then? Perhaps it was time to remind his follower just how much leeway was allowed…

''-plans for the future? A career in sports perhaps? My wife has some good connections… perhaps if you and my daughter can make amends, we can see about-''

Pure rage filled every fibre of the Dark Lord's being. The audacity. Confusion and shock muddled his thoughts as Harry's gaze locked with his. Too late, he realised that his fury was lashing in waves. Seconds longer, and it would have manifested in harmful magic.

''- y.. –or..? my…ord?'' during his attempt to regain a semblance of control, he slowly became aware of that someone was speaking to him. Having heard all he needed to know what Murton was up to, he cancelled the spell and directed his attention to the woman who'd come up to him.

''My Lord?'' Narcissa asked once more with concern. ''Is everything-'' she stepped back hastily when a long, annoyed hiss escaped his lips.

''What is it?'' he snapped, uncaring about whether his tone offended her. ''What is important enough to interrupt my thoughts?''

The woman steeled herself and adjusted her sleeves for a moment, no doubt to take a moment to breathe. ''My Lord, I wished to have your permission to move on to the next segment of the ball and specifically, if you would express an interest in opening the dance.'' He wondered if she only asked because it was proper form to do so as he was the guest of honour, or if she actually thought it a good idea. Not that her opinion mattered. Gaze drifting back to Harry, who was still talking to the Murtons with Black seeming to spur them on and giving the teen a shove so he'd step closer to the infuriating little miss, Voldemort made his decision quickly. Raising to full height and clearing his mind, he twisted his lips into the most charming smile he could muster. ''It would be my pleasure, Narcissa. Let me fetch my partner.'' Without waiting for an answer, he strode through the crowd, using a shocking spell to move the few pesky people who dared step in his past aside. It took no longer than a few seconds until he'd reached Harry.

''Evan,'' he purred, placing himself well into the teen's personal bubble. Nagini hissed happily and instantly slithered over to his feet instead, rubbing her body against his legs like a puppy. If only the one whose devotion he really wished right now would follow her example… ''I see you're using this ball to the fullest to make… new connections.'' Voldemort smiled, knowing his teeth were showing and that not an ounce of joy reached his eyes. Beneath the fit of what he recognised now as jealousy, he still had enough spare thoughts to once more appreciate how Harry looked. Nagini's earlier words about the chosen flower came to mind. Whatever Murton's intention, this person was utterly his in mind and soul, a thought that finally managed to bring him back into balance. He extended his arm, raising an eyebrow when Harry just stared at it. Right, he kept forgetting that no-one had ever bothered teaching the teen etiquette, whether verbal or non-verbal. ~You are supposed to take it instead of letting me hover my arm in the air for minutes like a fool~ he chided softly.

Looking mortified, Harry quickly corrected his mistake and placed a hand on his arm. Their magic reacted instantly, mingling and sending pleasant tingles across his skin. By the way Harry's pupils dilated, the effect was even more extreme for his partner. Voldemort subtly corrected the faux-pas by moving so their arms were looped. ''Narcissa has given the signal for the next part of the ball,'' he informed.

''Next part?'' the other asked curiously. Behind Harry, Barty and Black traded glances that Voldemort did not like in the slightest. Before they could draw the right conclusions and cause a scene, the Dark Lord sent an obliterating stare at Henric Murton before pulling Harry away. ~Nagini, stay with Barty,~ he warned his pet. He'd expected her to protest, but she only wagged the tip of her tail slowly back and forth, watching them move away with her unblinking gaze.

~Yes, the next part. I've heard you've opened a dance before at the Yule Ball?~ he asked after moving them to the part of the ballroom designated as dance floor, right in front of the staircase he'd descended earlier. Hearing that Harry at least had some experience with this had pleased him greatly. The alarmed look was thus not expected, just like the nervous glances back and forth between him and their audience.

~I'd hoped 'next part' would involve a ritual or otherwise a display of magic,~ Harry replied none-too-happily. ~First of all, I'm not particularly good at dancing. Last time I kept stepping on Ginny's feet, so prepare yourself. Secondly… it's a bit… public.~

~Are you opposed to dancing with me?~ Voldemort asked, carefully attempting to hide any sharp edges in his tone.

~No!~ Harry vehemently hissed. ~I just don't want to be the cause for making you look bad or… or that there will be stupid gossip again or, oh, I don't know!~ Though the language they used could not be understood by anyone else, it was clear by the stares and whispers that everyone understood they were having an argument. Black looked pleased by it, which only made Voldemort go through with this more.

Carefully, he positioned them and cupped one of Harry's cheeks with his left hand while his right arm wound around the teen's shoulders. He did not even need to concentrate to let his power envelop them both like a blanket. The effect was instantaneous. ~Do not worry so. Look at me alone,~ he advised.

Hands that were so much smaller than his own, yet surprisingly strong, grabbed on tightly as the music started and they stiffly moved. Clearly, at Hogwarts they'd only bothered to teach everyone one part of the dance alone, as Harry kept trying to lead despite Voldemort being taller and thus more fitting for that role. Voldemort didn't really care, satisfied by the fact that finally, those brilliant emerald eyes were not distracted anymore as they whirled around to the resonant cords produced by the string quartet that played by itself. Voldemort let himself be swept away by the music, having suggested this piece to Lucius. The deep undertones complimented the complex lead melody in perfect harmony. It was a quicker, more invigorating piece than usual for a formal dance, which he was more comfortable with than the classical waltzes that were so popular at these occasions. Ever so slowly, the teen thawed in his arms, reacting to his movements, surely aided by the way their minds threw echoes at each other. Subtly, the Dark Lord kept pulling the other closer. When the music welled up in its final beats, Harry at long last dared to sink his head into Voldemort's chest.

XxX

Dancing… the moment Voldemort had uttered the word, Harry had been dreading everything about it. He could barely recall why, now the soft fabric of the man's robes rubbed against his cheeks and strong arms had caged him in their grip. Dazed, Harry realised the music had stopped, eliciting a pang of loss at the mere thought of having to untangle again. It felt as if they'd found the right rhythm only seconds ago. Before being forced to draw away, Harry looked up and tripped over his tongue when trying to articulate his thoughts: ''I was rubbish, I know, can I… can we try again?'' he pleaded. ''I promise I'll be better on the second go.'' The glee he could feel from Voldemort told him it had been the right idea, if not necessarily the best wording.

''Could my skill make up enough for the lack of yours?'' the man teased quietly, eyes glittering. If they hadn't been surrounded by people, Harry might have tried his luck and stomped on Voldemort's foot on purpose. Alas, that would be counterproductive to his goal of staying like they were for as long as possible. Louder, the Dark Lord proclaimed: ''Let the music continue!'' At the wish, the quartet started another song, while all around them, others formed pairs too and spread out to make space. It seemed like they wouldn't be merely observed this time around, thank Merlin. The music was much slower than before, but Harry had found that it was easier to read Voldemort's mood and follow his touch instead of worrying about what steps to take himself, so he didn't worry much about the change of pace. This time, he didn't waste any time and nestled close against his – partner? Lover? Instead of the typical butterflies, a swarm of bees went wild in his stomach as he tried to figure out what exactly they were.

''Evan, calm down,'' Voldemort sighed. Easier said than done when pressed flush against the subject of his daydreams and desires. Harry clung on tightly, never wanting to lose this feeling, while at the same time wanting to get lost in it. So he did, glad that Voldemort was on board with it too, as they only stopped after the sixth dance when Harry's feet started to hurt. When at long last reluctantly withdrawing from the man's arms to catch his breath, the ballroom around them had transformed significantly. Gone were the tall white tables around which clusters had formed previously. They'd made way for coffee tables and expensive sofas, one of which the older man steered them towards. The tables stood far enough apart to make private conversation possible even without putting up wards.

''That was really… nice,'' he smiled, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow when sitting down. ''I never imagined dancing could be so much fun.'' He felt more content and at ease than he had in a long time, no worries plaguing him from the dark corners of his mind as he simply enjoyed being here. Voldemort agreed wordlessly and pulled him closer so their sides touched. Tentatively, Harry put his head on a bony shoulder. ''Are you actually planning on showing off some magic?'' he asked curiously, reminded of Narcissa's earlier words. So far, the party had looked pretty similar to the last Ostara ball.

''Yes, I fear many have neglected their inner strength and need a reminder what they are capable of. What I am capable of. Naturally, I have already honoured Magic in my own way with a suitable rite at the Spring Equinox, but there is no reason to leave it at that. Barty set up some preparations before and ensured no hint of it will leak through the wards.'' The underlying message of that whatever was planned might be powerful enough to break through excited the teen. ''Speaking of rituals, I heard you were the one to set up the altar. It was very authentic.''

At the acknowledgement, Harry allowed himself to feel a bit of pride. ''When Lucius asked me, I thought it would be a good motivator to delve a bit further into the traditional ways,'' he said. ''I wanted to show that I'm actually trying, despite school and extracurricular activities eating away a lot of time.''

''Your Defence group?''

''Among others…'' Harry admitted, wondering how much he wanted to reveal. The training with Ron was something he wanted to keep a secret until succeeding, but there was one other thing that he knew Voldemort would actually be very interested in. ''I know you said to revise the theory on Necromancy so we could attempt a full ritual in order to help with the side effects, but I must admit that I felt I couldn't wait that long.'' As he'd thought, the Dark Lord sat up straighter and leaned in towards him, a mixture of obsession and greed taking a hold of Harry.

''Leave no detail untouched,'' the man quietly hissed.

Harry didn't quite follow that order, leaving out some of the conversation shared between Pansy, Draco and him, focusing more on the spells and the way he'd felt when entering the cosmos. By the time he finally got to the part with the Dementor, which he still couldn't explain, he asked: ''Do you know what could possibly have happened? I always thought that Dementors were…. well, indestructible. Even the Patronus charm does not really harm them, it holds Dementors at bay, right?''

''Dementors are interesting creatures… They are ageless and there are no specific spells or potions that can destroy one, it's true. When looking at the grander scheme however, it is well known that the population of Dementors waxes and wanes depending on the circumstances. If nothing could end their existence, we'd have been overrun by them long ago. After all, they breed wherever there is despair and depression, a steady supply of which can be found everywhere, especially in Azkaban, where they are allowed to roam free and do as they please. And yet, their population has diminished since the war. That they have a healthy respect for Necromancers also leads me to believe that death magic, or rather life magic, may be harmful to them. In all honestly, I do not think that you killed it.''

''But… it disappeared! Basically blew up in a bright light!''

''Oh, it's no doubt dead, what I mean to say is that you did not actively harm it. Rather, you created conditions in which it was impossible for it to exist.''

''Why would it come close then? If my magic was so dangerous for its continued existence?''

''Why are moths attracted to a flame?'' Voldemort inquired, leaning back. ''I imagine that hundreds of artificial, shining new souls were hard to resist. Even as your spell had ended, it stepped into the space where you'd torn through dimensions to reach the Black cosmos before, the empty space was still there. It's not an exact science, but either the force that gives 'life' to the Dementor destabilised, or the souls it had eaten reacted and tried to break free.''

''The souls?'' Harry repeated, both fascinated and disgusted.

''While they feed off emotions most of the time, that hardly stills their appetite. The few times they get to suck up a soul, it takes them ages to digest it fully. A type of constant nourishment, if you will. Perhaps that's another thing that could really do a Dementor in, starvation…''

Talk of souls arose a whole new slew of questions in Harry. Discussing this instead of reading from the same book over and over again was far more enlightening. He fired off more queries, animatedly revealing his discovery about the invisibility cloak he used. Together, they theorised about the reasons why Harry still heard whispers and so clearly saw remnants of life that had been long dead, unfortunately without a solid answer. Time flew by as they jumped from one topic to the next, eventually having to put up a silencing barrier after all as it became obvious that those around grew more silent in hopes of picking up what the Dark Lord was so interested in. Throat eventually running dry, Harry went up to get some drinks for them, refusing to call over the poor house-elf who already had more than enough to do. On the way, he ran into Adrian, who profusely thanked Harry for asking 'Sir Crouch' to contact him.

By the time he'd retrieved the drinks and almost made it back to the table, Voldemort was neither alone nor relaxed anymore. Leaning threateningly over the table was, unfortunately, Sirius.

'Oh no,' Harry mouthed, already dreading where this was going before his godfather very loudly tore into the Dark Lord about 'boundaries' and 'disgusting displays'. Steeling himself for an unpleasant conversation, Harry came closer and set the drinks down, giving Sirius a glare. ''I thought I made it very clear that we were not talking about this,'' he aggressively said.

''That was before he had his wandering hands all over you!'' the man snarled back, looking feral. ''You are absolutely delusional if you think this is acceptable to anyone and you!'' he yelled at Voldemort, who looked incredibly ticked. ''You are nothing more than a predatory creep!''

''Black,'' the Dark Lord spoke, looking up at the furious red face of Sirius without taking the bait. ''You have three seconds to get out of that door before I put you under the ground again. You have no right to-''

''I have every right!'' Sirius screamed. ''I'm his godfather!''

Now it was Harry's turn to get pissed. ''You cannot just throw that out whenever it is convenient!'' he yelled back. ''What about your holier-than-thou words about not limiting my life's choices? What about accepting my wishes even if we disagree instead being a control freak? On one hand you want me to follow in my father's footsteps and get into risky situation while on the other, you want to decide which risks are appropriate! If you really wanted to protect me, maybe you should have broken out of prison to care about me and free me from the Dursleys instead of only stopping with wallowing in self-misery to get revenge on Peter!''

All colour had drained from his godfather's face. Both Narcissa and Lucius hastily approached, but Harry held up a hand to hold them back. Attempting to reign in his disappointment, Harry continued in in a calmer tone: ''Sirius, you are incredibly important to me. But you're not the only one whose opinion matters, nor the only one who is trying to keep me safe. I don't know how to tell you this other than… I've spend vastly more time with Voldemort than I did with you these past years. I value my own experiences over your biased opinion on this matter. When I told you the truth about my feelings, I thought that was the last of it. Please don't prove me wrong.''

''I'm not trying to diminish your feelings,'' Sirius ground out. ''I'm not angry at you either! I know you won't want to hear this, but I'm attempting to keep you from getting taken advantage of by someone who should know better. If it had remained as was until you were out of school and you then still decided this was the future you wanted, you wouldn't have heard a peep from me.''

Threateningly, Voldemort rose from his seat. ''That was far more than three seconds, Black. I'm sure your over-active mind is imagining this to be far worse than what is going on. I do not appreciate baseless accusations being hurled at me. You have insulted both my honour and my partner's intelligence. Your arguments are-''

''Baseless?'' Sirius barked. ''I may be mad, but I have eyes!''

''Sirius, just shut up!'' Harry exploded, having had enough. For once, everything had felt right. Being able to fully and openly enjoy exploring this new shift in dynamics in a safe environment, around other people, had been a welcome change to the tension-laden dreams and private meetings. Absolutely nothing indecent had been going on, and Harry knew with certainty that nothing indecent would happen. He was about to drag his godfather over to a quieter spot to continue this discussion, when noticing that Sirius' face had gone completely blank. It wasn't a neutral expression in the sense of the man finally regaining control either. Instead, it looked as if Sirius was just wholly absent and unaware of his surroundings. Realising too late what he'd done, Harry carefully approached his godfather. ''No, no, this is exactly what I've tried to avoid,'' he moaned. ''Voldemort, what do I do? How long does this take?'' he desperately asked, seeking advice from the only one he knew to have an idea of what was happening. As he did so, he became painfully aware of that over two-hundred people were watching and listening with rapid attention, the silencing barrier broken by Sirius barging through.

''You know how this works,'' the Dark Lord sighed with annoyance, sitting down again. ''Command him to snap out of it. While you're at it, tell him to leave this place too.''

''He's a human, not a puppet! Giving him an order is exactly what caused this!'' he argued in distress. There was no way that continuing on this line was going to make it any better.

The Dark Lord picked up the glass of firewhiskey that Harry had put on the table and took a sip as if nothing was wrong. ''How do you always manage to draw conclusions that are both correct and incorrect, I wonder. Black is a human, but also a puppet. His will is yours, it is only because you wish him to enact free will most of the time that he is able to do so. In many ways, he is no better than an Inferi. Your command was one that did not specify a time limit, unlike the time you accidentally ordered him to fetch something. He won't wake up by himself. What is interesting is that instead of merely stopping his speech, he is frozen entirely. Perhaps his damaged brain cannot cope with the knowledge of what he is and refuses to accept following a command in a way that would leave him aware of it.''

Harry countered with: ''It's not interesting, it's frightening!''

''People, stop gaping and get back to your own business,'' a rough voice shouted suddenly. As if sent by Merlin himself, Barty approached with large strides, throwing up a wide silencing barrier around their table before halting close to Sirius and examining the man's face. Instead of the useless, cold fascination from the Dark Lord, Barty looked appropriately concerned. ''I hadn't thought it would come to this,'' he muttered, a deep, sad look in his usually warm eyes.

''Can you fix this?'' Harry asked in a small voice. ''I didn't mean to, really. In my anger, I forgot…''

''Evan, this is not your fault,'' the Death Eater reassured him. ''You can't be expected to walk around on your toes in situations like this.''

''Bartemius,'' Voldemort spoke with displeasure, sending a dark look at his right hand. ''Where were you before? You are responsible for Black as you had the brilliant idea to invite him behind my back. In addition, it looks like you have fed his blatant attempts to drive a wedge between Evan and I.''

Barty bowed and spoke with a weary voice: ''My Lord. With all due respect, Black did have a point. Even before your dance, rumours crossed the room that slandered your name as soon as you made clear that you'd forgiven Evan for causing your death. I shall not repeat the exact words, but part of the people here believe that you've lost your fight and the other half that you are dabbling in wildly inappropriate magic. Even some of the other Death Eaters believe either of those standpoints. For both your sakes, I let Black introduce Evan to people closer to his age to assure our allies that there is nothing going on between you.''

''That wasn't your call to make,'' Voldemort crabbily spoke. Beneath those words however, Harry could clearly feel a hint of understanding and calm blooming.

''You are a public figure of importance and authority, my Lord,'' Barty continued in the same tone. ''Neither fear not admiration will stop gossip. Though I admit that I had not expected Black to go this far. We'd agreed-'' he stopped himself, but it was too late. Voldemort was like a shark reeking blood, instantly picking up on the error. Before it could escalate, Harry frantically tried to draw their attention back to the real problem at hand.

''Sirius is still in need of help,'' he reminded the Death Eater, pulling at his hand. ''Please, can you do something?''

After waiting for a nod of approval from his Lord, Barty continuing his inspection of the absentminded figure, raking his wand across Sirius' temple. Several minutes later, he lowered it with a disappointed expression.

Harry was about to push his distaste aside to issue another command in hopes of solving this, when Voldemort rose from his seat and approached the three of them. ''Stand aside,'' he snapped at his follower, who took a respectful step back. ''Why does it always come down to me picking up the pieces of Sirius Black?''

Thin lips curled in distaste as Voldemort's fingers touched the unresponsive face. The man closed his eyes in concentration, a glow starting beneath his fingertips. Several seconds later, Sirius' entire body jerked awake, and he scrambled to get away from all of them, stumbling backwards. Harry tried to calm the frantic man down, but Sirius threw one fearful look at them all before storming off. Within seconds, he'd left the room, likely heading towards the exit. Feeling even worse than before, Harry slapped away the hands that tried to hold him back and pursued. By the time he reached the front doors however, Sirius was nowhere to be seen, either having reached the gates and disapparated or hid in the garden or forest in his Animagus form. Disheartened, Harry sat down on the cold, wet steps in front of the door, trying to sort out the mess in his head.

''What a turbulent family you have,'' a voice whispered in his ear. For a short moment, Harry thought it was Voldemort, especially as he caught a glimpse of shadowy robes and red eyes, but as the one who'd spoken straightened, it became clear that it was someone else. Observing the man's pale skin and styled dark hair, Harry got the strong feeling of having met this person before. Whether he really had, or whether it was because he just got Horcrux vibes was unclear until pale lips parted into a grin, showing off small fangs.

''You were at Fleur's house,'' he recalled. ''With the children.''

The smile fell into a brooding expression, making Harry think he'd said something that was better left unmentioned.

''The children, yes…'' the Vampire spoke with sadness. ''Because of you, one still lives.''

From the words, Harry could not deduce if that meant he was the reason for one dying or for why the other was still alive. After the previous drama, he didn't want to know either, but a feeling of responsibility gripped him. ''What happened?'' he thus asked.

The man took his time to sit down next to Harry, staring into the distance. The rain, which was slowly soaking through Harry's robes, didn't touch the other at all. ''My – and their – former master was a cruel and impatient man, always looking for new ways to alleviate his boredom. The full moon after our meeting, he made them fight each other to the death. It was his intention to find a new werewolf to instigate a similar fight the full moon after. Because of you, he never got the chance to do so. Had the Dark Lord not been convinced to act sooner than he planned to… I owed you.''

''Owed?'' Harry wondered about the past tense, trying to figure out what terrible thing he had done in the meantime to make the Vampire change his mind.

Fangs flashed again. Maybe sitting here alone with someone who fed off human blood wasn't the smartest course of action. Would feeding from Harry count as an attack? Would Voldemort's shields react?

''Blood for blood is the way of my people,'' the handsome man whispered sadistically, eyes starting to glow unnaturally. ''You ensured the world would be rid of my tormentor, so I repaid the debt by ridding the world of yours.''

The meaning of those words reached the Gryffindor as if through a hazy filter. ''You… you are the one who killed-'' he choked out. ''But… but the reports said it had been a mage!''

The man chuckled and stood again, balancing on the edge of the slippery step. ''Come now, Potter. Every Vampire worth his time on his earth, even a half-blood such as I, would know how to set up a crime scene in which someone else was blamed. Our livelihoods would be at stake if not.'' He chuckled again and whispered: ''Livelihood at stake… I have to remember that one. That one's good.'' The smile faltered when taking in Harry's brooding expression. None of Harry's theories had included the triple murder of his family to be a calculated gift.

''I don't know what to say,'' he admitted. He knew that, had Voldemort done the same, like the man had expressed he wanted to, Harry would have blown up for interfering. Was it hypocritical that he didn't feel like cussing out a stranger who'd thought this to be an appropriate way of payback?

''You don't need to say anything,'' the being reassured. ''I only told you to ensure you knew that I no longer owe a debt to you. I don't like having attachments to humans of any form. This will be the last time we speak, Potter. I bid you goodnight and suggest you get out of this rain.'' He waited a few more seconds, then shrugged and took a step forwards. Without the typical sound or whirl of apparition, the Vampire vanished.

''Fresh air is overrated anyways,'' Harry sighed, getting up, a feel of strange detachment coming over him. Not only had he not caught up with his godfather, now he had the added weight on his mind of knowing who the Dursleys' killer was and trying to cope with that once again, he did not feel guilt or the need for vengeance. Very slowly, he returned to the ballroom, not knowing how to pick up the previous thread of conversation, or how to face the criticising looks. For a moment, Harry debated whether he'd rather just go upstairs to his bedroom. Only the promise of Voldemort having a piece of magic prepared enabled him to go on. Harry looked straight ahead as he entered, walking mechanically to the table where his partner sat, alone again and seeming to have waited for him. Familiar energy wrapped him up even before the Dark Lord followed the movement with his arms. Harry curled up tightly against the wizard's side, not knowing what to say or do. They sat like that for several minutes, until Harry's muscles started to protest and he had to let go. ''You don't happen to be willing to obliviate me?'' he sombrely asked.

''So you can make the same mistake again? I think not.''

Harry eyed the glass on the table next to Voldemort's thin hand. If he couldn't forget using magic… Perhaps it was time to step over his aversion. ''Can I have some?'' he asked, nodding to the glass of firewhiskey. Voldemort threw him a long, hard stare, but ultimately shoved the glass to his side. Harry remembered how dizzy and at ease he'd felt the last time. Even a bad hangover in the morning was probably worth it. He closed his eyes after a few long gulps of the burning liquid, already feeling how the edge was taken off the sharp stings of the most recent unpleasant conversations before he'd even downed half of the glass. All too soon, Harry lost every track of time, concentrating only on the warm feeling in his belly and the cold touch of Voldemort's fingers as they started to thread through his hair. How had his head ended up on the man's lap, Harry idly wondered even as he sighed in pleasure and curled up. How wonderful it would be to sleep here now…

There were flashes of light, the warmth of candles, and Harry drifted in and out of awareness. He was sitting on the cold floor now, chanting along to hundreds of voices, calling for something he couldn't name. The vines on the wall grew, covering the brilliant marble like shadows extending with the setting of the sun. Harry grasped fistfuls of grass that formed a tapestry below him. A woman softly called his name. Blonde hair looked fiery red in the light of the bonfire that had been lit in the middle of the room. ''Mum,'' he whispered, reaching out. But the eyes were wrong. Everything was wrong until he was picked up and carried away from the burning light.

He grasped tightly onto the only one whom he fully trusted even in this strange state of moving walls and reaching shadows. The magic was as familiar as his own, comforting and strong. ''Stay,'' he cried out when the figure released him. He was lying down now, Harry realised, shoes taken off and a blanket covering his form. ''Please,'' he croaked as the one who'd carried him here withdrew further, approaching the door to leave. ''I don't want to be alone.''

The bed, which had already been moving up and down as if he lay on a raft in the middle of a wild river, dipped. ''Not like this,'' a cool voice sounded from afar. ''Morsmordre.'' The room was so dark that Harry could not see much apart from a second person entering and handing the first one something. A something that turned out to be unpleasantly cold and foul-smelling when it was pressed against his lips. ''Drink,'' the voice commanded, and with great reluctance, Harry did as told. Whatever it was tasted absolutely disgusting, but the surroundings did still. The teen blinked, feeling much better now apart from a stomach-ache.

''What…'' he muttered in confusion, sitting up as all senses returned and the fog cleared.

''You can be thankful that Severus always carries some useful potions on his person,'' Voldemort spoke. Harry could feel amusement, but it was tainted with tension and worry. ''I didn't realise you were trying to get black-out drunk. Evan, this is not a healthy way to cope.''

''Says the guy who tries to murder people as anger management,'' he hiccupped, then sighed. ''Sorry. I didn't mean to burden you.''

''You call me out on my harmful behaviour, and I do the same with you, how does that sound?'' the Dark Lord murmured, shifting so Harry was once again in his arms.

Feeling extremely tired, Harry simply nodded. ''Thank you for taking me out of there. Do you need to return?'' he hated how weak his voice sounded, or the way his hands trembled before they were covered by much larger ones.

''I have done my part. Say the word and I'll remain at your side.''

With relief, Harry allowed himself to lie back down. ''Thank you. Reminds me of that time I ended up in your bedroom and calmed your thoughts. Could you do the same?''

Voldemort hummed in agreement and lay down next to him, taking part of the blankets too. Sneakily, Harry moved so he was practically draped over the Dark Lord. Wherever their skin touched, it felt like small sparks travelled through him. ''Sadly, I missed your grand display, I think,'' he regretfully spoke. ''Other than a couple of impressions of fire and plants that is.'' That he received no feelings of anger or resentment was a good sign, so the teen relaxed and enjoyed what he did receive, both in emotions and from the ministrations of deft fingers on his neck. Even through the fatigue, it awoke something within him. He lay perfectly still, breath hitching with each stroke. Only when Voldemort's movements wavered and a hint of uncertainty flickered through their link, did Harry make the bold move of getting up and placing his hands on the man's chest, raising his head so he hovered over the other. Maybe it was due to the darkness, but it felt as if not only their magic was electrifying the air.

''May I?'' he whispered, afraid that any loud sound would break the moment. He tried to peer through the darkness to read Voldemort's expression as a mixture of emotions hit him that he didn't have the time to entangle and analyse. ''I won't change my mind in these coming three months, you know,'' he breathlessly laughed through his nerves when his partner failed to react, entirely still beneath him. He swallowed heavily. They'd kissed each other's faces before, even when not in a relationship yet. Was it really so different? If not, why did he want this so badly then?

The hold of the fingers in his hair tightened, a sting of pain going through his scalp as the Dark Lord rose up on one arm to close the distance. A whole different heat pooled in his stomach as dry lips slid against his. It lasted only seconds and didn't deepen, but it was enough to set his heart aflame.

''Now sleep,'' Voldemort rasped, sounding just as breathless as Harry felt. The teen was pushed down again and smiled contently, snuggling closer to push his nose against a soft nape. Beneath the palms of his hands, he felt a thudding that matched his own.

''Thank you,'' he murmured, finally allowing himself to close his eyes and drift away.

---

Some questions answered, some more questions asked, I'm sure ;)
And I suppose this is their first real official kiss at long last. You've only needed to wait 700k of chapters long. Slow burn who?

I hope that you all enjoyed the talks, the intrigue and the romance!
Please leave a review if you liked it,
xx GeMerope