playlist one

playlist two

song of the chapter: ylang-ylang - FKJ

Bellatrix cackled.

Tom was fuming, practically foaming at the mouth, cursing, torturing, (crying) all over that little half-blood.

Oh, sweet, little, innocent, Harry. He was such an interesting character, and he didn't seem to mind Bellatrixs' bloodlust. He didn't seem to mind Bellatrix either, for that matter. Harry adored Bellatrix, and in turn, Bellatrix adored Harry.

"Bella," Harry would croon to her, and Tom would turn his sharp eyes on Harry, then switch to look at Bellatrix. And Bellatrix would shudder at his gaze, critical and analyzing.

But Bellatrix cackled now because someone was in trouble.

And Tom made it hell for you when you were in trouble.

"Why," Tom asked one morning to a group of assembled Death Eaters. "Is Harry Potter crying?"

Bellatrix wouldn't get to laugh today, it seemed. Tom was upset because Harry was upset, and Bellatrix was upset because Tom was upset because Harry was upset. Bellatrix was also upset because Harry was upset-

And this was what happened when you started caring about people. Feelings and empathy and bleugh.

Bellatrix missed it sometimes when everyone thought her a heartless she-demon, but now Tom and Harry knew better, and sometimes it was just awful.

"Perhaps he is sad, my lord," some cheeky newbie said, and Tom turned to face him.

Bloody idiot, Bellatrix thought. There he goes. He lived a short, meaningless life, and will now die at the hand of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Really?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "I feel as if I've been enlightened now," the newbie started to shift uncomfortably, as if now only realizing his sarcasm was unwanted and unappreciated.

Bellatrix was rolling now, barely containing her laughter. Internally, at least. Tom noticed, of course, and could probably hear her laughter with his Legilimency.

"Bella," Tom said sharply. "If you cannot contain yourself, please see yourself out," A few Death Eaters looked towards the two in confusion, probably because there was no visible distraction, but the more seasoned ones knew exactly what had happened and ignored it.

"Of course, my lord." Bellatrix bowed deep, in an over-the-top display, which she knew Tom knew it was and stepped out of their common room. Tom looked like he wanted to hit her with a tickling hex.

As Bellatrix slid out the room, her smirk slid off her face. She walked down the corridor, baring her teeth at a passing first year who squealed and ran away in fright in what was clearly the wrong direction.

And then she went to find a silly, little crying half-blood that deserved the world, no matter who tried to take it from him.

"Harry," Bellatrix called. No answer. Bellatrix scoffed. She knew he was in here, his favorite hiding spot in the castle, one of the many mysterious rooms on the West side of the tower. But pretending he wasn't with no answer...Bellatrix clicked her tongue. "I'll drag you out here myself if I must."

A stag appeared in front of Bellatrix's face, although she had not heard the spell. Ah, wordless magic. Someone was trying to stay hidden. Or, Bellatrix should say, hidden from everyone but her.

The stag led Bellatrix to a hiding place, where a jelly bean a boy had squished himself in and had tried not to be noticed.

"Harry," Bellatrix said, looking down at him.

"Bella," Harry purred.

"What are you doing in a corner like this? You'll start to collect dust like Dumbledore," Harry choked on a laugh. "Come, up, up," She tugged on his arm.

"Bella, no," he protested, trying and failing to pull his arm from her grasp.. "I came here to be away from people, not talk to them."

Bellatrix frowned, and Harry seemed to realize his wording mistake instantly, eyes widening, face paling. "And why do you want to be away from people?"

Harry tried to shrink further in on himself and Bellatrix's nostrils flared.

"Harry, are people...bullying you?" The dinner spectacle from a few days ago had been all anyone talked about, as well as Harry Potter's accidental outing. Most of the Hogwarts population sided with him as well as Ginny, and the rest were silent about their opinions after a few visits from Tom and Bellatrix.

And by few, she meant quite a lot because apparently people couldn't keep their mouths shut even if it benefited them. Bloody idiots.

Harry tried for a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace and Bellatrix couldn't help but feel pity (gross, feelings) for the foolish boy. "Who would dare bully the boy who lived?"

Bellatrix inhaled sharply. "They are, aren't they?" Harry began to protest but Bellatrix saw throught the weak lies.

(Bellatrix swore to herself she would never teach the boy to lie. He'd have too many secrets, and Bellatrix couldn't protect him if he kept secrets from her)

"No, they-"

"Harry, who dared? Tell me who dared!"

Harry flinched back as Bellatrix yelled at him. "Bella, I'm sorry."

Bellatrix reeled back. Harry had flinched because of her. Because of her.

Tom was going to fucking murder her and they'd never find the body. Damn it, the boy was probably having a panic attack or something, and it would be good for him, squished in a corner like he was. Bellatrix gently lifted him up, rubbing his back as he sniffled then started to cry.

Harry didn't cry loudly. He cried quietly, and softly, little jolts making his body shudder as he did.

"It's like I'm back there," he sniffed. "It's like I'm back there again.

And Bellatrix would never let Harry go back there.

["Harry, come here," a small, tiny, (underfed) seven-year-old Harry Potter stumbles a bit as he walks over to his mother. Lily has a strange look on his face that Harry has never seen before. Harry is used to their looks. He can usually tell when he's about to be slapped, punished, corrected, or when he's about to be sent to his room with no food.

But Harry has never seen this look before so Harry has no idea what to do.

"Mommy?" Harry asks cautiously.

"Have you been looking at these?" his mother holds up a magazine. Moving photos of boys in beautiful dresses cover the insides.

"Yeah!" Harry makes a grab for the magazine. "Uncle Sirius left it here last time he visited us! Aren't they pretty?" he watched as one of the figures

Harry is so engrossed in the pictures that he misses the way his mother wrinkles her nose. "And why have you circled some?"

"Oh," Harry clenches his fist twice to help him relax. "Those are the ones I want,"

Harry goes to bed without dinner tonight. As he lies, clutching his stomach, trying to wish away the hunger, lingering sting of a slap on his cheek, he can hear his parents arguing downstairs. His mother, telling his father that Sirius can't come back, his father telling his mother that Sirius is his best mate.

In the end, they compromise.

Harry won't be home when Sirius visits.

Sirius doesn't bother to visit anymore after that.

("Oh, Harry," Death wants to reach out and press his cool hand to Harry's burning cheek, but he can't. Not yet. "Someone will love you. I promise, someone will come and they will love you.")

"Hello," the tall boy sticks out his hand. Harry reaches for it. I'm not supposed to talk to boys I think are pretty, Harry thinks. Mother would be upset.

("But your mother isn't here anymore, is she?" Death smiles. Death pretends to inspect a nail)

"Hello," Harry says and takes his hand. "My name is Harry. Harry Potter," the boy's don't widen in surprise which is how Harry knows he's a Muggleborn.

Or somewhat decent at hiding his emotions.

"Tom Riddle," the other boy introduces.

It didn't take as long as Harry thought it would. All it took was a rather bold Hufflepuff.

"You're Harry Potter, right? The one whose parents were killed by Grindelwald?"

And the whispers.

So many whispers.

He felt their eyes, their looks, their stares. Their judgment, harsh words burned his skin. Harry felt his throat clamp and he remembered his father's milky white eyes, and his mother's screams, and the first time he'd felt Uncle Sirius hug in years.

"Get up, move," someone was dragging him away, someone was picking him up. Harry turned to face his hero, savior helper, and saw the boy from Platform 9 ¾. Tom. Tom Riddle.

Tom dragged him out, seemingly not knowing which direction to go. But the newly christened Slytherin was anything but hesitant. He confidently led Harry out of the castle until they reached a lake.

"Harry, are you okay?" Harry managed a shaky nod and drew in a breath.

"Why," Harry licked his lips. They felt dry. He tried to swallow but his throat was too rough and scratchy. "Why did you help me?"

"You were having a panic attack while everybody else stood there and did nothing," Tom snarled. "Did you expect me to sit idly by?"

"But why me?"

Tom looked away now. "You didn't say anything about my name when I introduced myself."

"What about your name?"

"It's not a Pureblood name, like yours. It means I'm a Muggleborn. I'm a Mudblood."

"No!" Tom turned towards him, surprised. "You're not," Harry grabbed Tom's face and pulled it close to him. Tom's breath came out in little white puffs. His face colored with a blush, but Harry didn't notice.

"Never call yourself that. Never. You have to promise me," Harry held out his pinky.

"How do you know what that is? I thought you were Pureblood."

"Promise me, and maybe I'll tell you."

Tom locked pinkies with him.

"Promise."]

Never in a million years.

["Harry, you're mine. I promise I'll never leave."

"Pinky promise?" Harry asked. He held up the finger, and Tom took it without any hesitation.]

Because now Harry has Tom.

And Tom would kill for that boy.

And maybe Bellatrix would never admit it to herself, but she knew she would too.

"What did they say to you jellybean?" Bellatrix asked Harry softly.

"Tom told you to stop calling me that," Harry grumbled.

"Ah, but you didn't. And stop changing the topic. What did they say to you?"

Harry shuffled his feet. "Slurs, and other stuff. I don't want to talk about it."

Bellatrix nodded. "That's fine."

Harry turned to her, surprised. "You're not going to try to weed it out of me?" Like Tom went unsaid.

Bellatrix snorted. "I'm not Tom Riddle, in case you haven't noticed. If you don't want to tell me, it's fine. As long as you tell me when it gets really bad. I wouldn't want someone to step on my little jellybean."

"Your obsession with that Muggle candy is frankly rather disturbing," Harry pointed out.

"They're delicious," Bellatrix insisted. Harry wrinkled his nose and pretended to gag.

"They're disgusting, please stop eating them."

"Stop buying them for me," Harry laughed, a quiet, flitting thing.

"Never," he promised.

And somewhere, a deity, (a god?) a being was planning. Was scheming.

Death knew all. Death knew when he would strike. But Death also foresaw. It saw two souls intertwined, that once met, would never and could never truly be claimed by Death.

One soul was ambitious, and driven by power and hope for a better future. His one weakness is his love for the other soul.

The other soul was quiet, reserved, and more thoughtful, pushed into a spotlight it didn't wish for. A soul that would one day call itself Death's Master.

Both souls would go through pain, fear, and at one crucial moment, a fixed point in time, unchangeable, even by the most powerful magic, loss.

But Death knew all. Death saw all. Death knew what had happened and what was to come.

And Death knew.

So Death watched.

And Death waited.

And Death knew.

(and Death was)