He sat behind his desk and listened to the man in front of him rant on about how he planned to design the interiors of his new restaurant in Atlanta. He wasn't really focused on him because his mind kept drifting to his prisoner… Andrew had noticed his detachment from the meeting and took it upon himself to answer any questions that were directed towards him.

He was supposed to be happy now that he had Tom where he wanted him, right? He'd gotten what he'd wanted…Tom at his mercy… Tom under his captivity… But he wasn't satisfied…Something inside him was still as restless as the day Fenrir had died. It brought him pleasure…Seeing Tom bleed…Watching him suffer but pleasure wasn't enough…He wanted peace… He wanted satisfaction…He needed gratification.

The meeting ended and when the designer had left, Andrew slid a sheaf of papers towards him and spoke softly,

"Notes from the meeting… You seemed far away during the entire meeting… Is something wrong?"

Harry looked down at the papers before pushing them away with the tip of his pen and leaned back in his seat,

"No…Nothing's wrong."

Andrew sighed,

"Well something is obviously bothering you… You know you can trust me…"

Harry closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. After the cold treatment he'd given Andrew, the night he'd came to know that he'd been harbouring feelings for him, he had expected Andrew to leave his side but somehow it seemed that Andrew had grown even more concerned for his well-being and he was beginning to grow concerned for his because he knew… he knew that he was bound to hurt Andrew's feelings sooner or later,

"I don't feel as satisfied as I ought to."

He opened his eyes and watched as Andrew placed his tablet on the table and spoke,

"Give it time… You'll be fine."

Harry was about to reply when the door opened, and Fraser strode in like he owned the place. Harry shot him a silent glare and Fraser smirked,

"I'm so glad to see that you're happy to see me…"

Harry let out a sarcastic chuckle,

Fraser laughed softly,

"It had been a while since I'd seen your pretty face… Thought I'd pay you a little visit and congratulate you on your conquest."

Harry turned to Andrew and told him to leave before fixing his attention back to Fraser,

"Oh, so you've heard about my conquest?"

Fraser chuckled,

"Who hasn't heard about it? Your little conquest is the talk of the town right now."

Harry crossed his arms behind his head as he propped his feet up on the desk,

"I'm glad to hear that."

Fraser sat back, legs stretched out and ankles crossed as he regarded Harry with a mildly curious expression,

"How is he, by the way? Still alive, I hope?"

His non-affected tone didn't fool Harry for a minute. Fraser didn't do or say anything that didn't have a deeper reason. It was the one thing Harry liked about him and it made him tolerable,

"You can hope."

"You know you can't kill him."

Fraser didn't look away or back down when Harry stared at him.

"Do I?"

He issued the challenge, but Fraser simply rolled his eyes.

"Yes, you know."

Fraser stood and strode past him to stare out the window of his office, ten floors up in a building located downtown Manhattan,

"You can do whatever you want with Voldemort."

Fraser said when he turned back to Harry,

"But you will keep him alive because you need him."

That was a laughable notion,

"He will die,"

Harry said it without anger, because it took a lot to anger him nowadays,

"It is inevitable."

"Oh?"

Fraser held up a thin delicate finger,

"If that's the case then why did you wait so long to make your move?"

That had to be a rhetorical question, because Fraser knew he'd planned everything down to the tiniest of details just so it could go right. Kidnapping people like Lord Voldemort took planning. They took time. And above all they took patience.

Harry didn't say all that to Fraser now, but the slim man, clad in a form-fitting dark gray suit, the jacket buttoned over a black shirt and dark-brown leather shoes, watched him as though he'd read everything direct from Harry's brain.

"Tell me something…"

Fraser retook his seat, flicking an invisible something off the lapel of his jacket,

"And feel free to answer honestly, okay? When you take your blade to Voldemort's flesh, is it the sight of blood that excites you and keeps you going?"

He held Harry's gaze, eyes speaking louder than his voice, saying he already knew the answer,

"Or is it the sight of Lord Voldemort's blood that does the trick?"

Harry narrowed his gaze.

"Is it the thought of making him pay for what he did to Fenrir that gets your blood racing and your control fraying? Or is it simply the thought of him? The sight of him that undoes you?"

Fraser held up a hand,

"Because I have to tell you, no matter how much you try to hide it…you are coming undone, my friend."

They weren't friends. Barely could they be considered acquaintances.

"You're mistaking me for someone who ever loses control… Don't talk about things you don't know."

He growled, and Fraser's lips quirked,

"If you say so."

Hands lifted in surrender, gaze mocking, Fraser asked,

"What's your next move?"

"Already in motion."

Harry stood up,

"Speaking of that, I have another meeting now, so I have to leave for that. I'm sure you can show yourself out."