Tom

He'd been looking for Lucius, Barty, and Severus. The three men had seemingly disappeared a couple of hours ago, and he hadn't seen them since. He knew they were up to something and that it had to do with Harry, but as of yet, none of them had felt the need to fill him in.

His patience was starting to wear thin.

He'd been debating, just demanding an answer out of whichever one he came across first when he slammed into another, smaller body. On instinct, he caught the person with his magic, keeping them from crashing onto the ground. Only then did he notice it was Draco.

Who was cursing and desperately holding on to the black bundle in his arms. Only because the cat screamed out did he notice it wrapped in the blanket; he was pretty sure he had gifted Bartemius years ago.

"I'm sorry." his lover's son said when he finally found his feet. He might have dismissed him, let him go about his night, but the cat in his arms was shaking and whimpering.

"Come with me," he ordered. He turned and headed for his room. He had several potions there, one of which was a pain potion that would help the animal. He'd only taken a few steps when he noticed the younger Malfoy hadn't moved. Stopping, he turned around and raised an eyebrow at the teenager.

The look on the blond's face was one he was all too familiar with. It was the same look the boy's father got when he was about to question an order.

Inwards he groaned. He had no idea how to deal with children. In fact, he usually tried to avoid them. He'd known Lucius had a child, of course, back before his demise, but it was one thing to know his lover had a baby and another to meet the young man he'd grown into in his absence.

Perhaps if things had been different and he had gotten to know Draco as he grew up, he wouldn't feel so uneasy around him now.

"The cat is in pain," he said, looking at the animal; he knew both Malfoys, all three actually, had a weakness for animals, and he wasn't above using that weakness right now. He'd already been curious about the strange cat, but now he was curious about Draco as well. This was the first time he'd been alone with Lucius' son, well ever. He wanted to take advantage of it and maybe get to know the teen.

Draco shifted on his feet, looking down at the cat and then back at him, "I was taking him to Severus."

"For a pain relief potion?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

The young man before him muttered, "yes, sir."

"The same potion I'm offering you?" He didn't know what it was about him that made the boy so uncomfortable. If it was his title or his power, there was nothing he could do about it. But if it was his closeness to Draco's father, maybe there was a chance that spending time around the younger blond could ease some of the tension between them.

"Yes, sir," Draco said, with an apologetic look to the cat, who meowed. Tom titled his head in confusion, not a gesture he was used to.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as annoyed as he was starting to feel.

The teen quickly shook his head, "no, sir."

Frustrated, he spun around and headed for his room, not even caring if Draco followed him. He enjoyed being called Sir. He liked the fear and respect he saw in people's eyes when they said it. But having Lucius' son shrink and use it to get around talking to him pissed him off.

How was he supposed to get to know Draco if he wouldn't utter more than a handful of words to him?

Some part of him was relieved when Draco followed him into his room. He gestured towards Lucius's favorite chair, silently telling the boy to take a seat.

He pulled out his personal potions kit. It was something he demanded all his followers have in case they needed a potion in an emergency and Severus wasn't around. A few of them could brew, he and Bastan were better than the others, but he still preferred Severus's potions because the man's talent surpassed their own by lightyears.

He grabbed a pink potion that was a mild pain reliever. He wasn't sure how the potion would work on a cat and didn't want to give the animal anything stronger in case it was too much. He carried the bottle over and handed it to Draco. He looked so relieved as he pulled the stopper out and poured some into his hand, letting the cat lick it up. After, the cat laid back down and drifted off to sleep. The room quickly filled with awkward tension.

Draco stayed in the chair, possibly only because he didn't want to disturb that cat sleeping on his lap, and Tom was standing in front of him.

He was thinking as fast as he could of something to say, anything that might start a conversation between them. But the words failed to come. And the longer he stood there doing nothing, the more uneasy it seemed young Draco became. Soon the boy's right leg was bouncing up and down as he filled with nervous energy.

He sighed, "I apologize." he muttered out before he even thought about the words. Draco's head snapped up towards him, eyes wide.

"I thought bringing you in here was a good idea. I had wished to talk, get to know you, but it seems to have done nothing but make you uncomfortable."

His lover's son looked at him bewildered, and then the boy shook his head, "I'm sorry." the blond whispered, "I don't…" he took a breath and pulled himself up so that he was sitting straight in the chair, "I don't know how to act around you." the teen said. "You're the Dark Lord, but also my father's…" again he stopped, and Tom almost smiled at the queasy look on his face.

"Your father's?" he asked, just because he could, and maybe a little because this was the most the boy had spoken to him, and he didn't want him to stop.

The young Malfoy glared at him before remembering who he was glaring at. He made his face more natural, "my father's lover." he said. The word was drawn out like it had been forcefully pulled from the teen's mouth.

This time he did grin, letting the younger man see his amusement. "When we are among my followers or at a gathering, you will speak to me with the respect and obedience any of my followers would." Draco nodded his head in understanding, "However," he started, and the boy got a confused look on his face, "in private, you can be more relaxed and speak to me like you would your father or Uncle."

Emotions raced across the young man's face before he again nodded his head.

To Tom's surprise, the boy didn't hesitate to take him at his word.

"Can I ask you a question?" Draco asked, not looking away.

"You can."

"What's with you and Potter?"

Not sure what exactly Draco was talking about, "what do you mean?" he asked.

"You wanted him dead. Now you don't." Short and succinct, just like his father.

He sighed, "I can not tell you. At least not yet." For a second, he felt unhappy about that. He was finally getting to know Lucius' son, and he got the impression that if this conversation went wrong, the boy would pull away.

"But you really don't want him dead?" Draco asked. Tom couldn't help but tilt his head and look at the blond again. He'd expected some kind of reaction about not being able to tell him something. Instead, Draco had accepted it and moved on to his next question. Which came off, worried? Which didn't make sense. The last he heard, Draco and Harry were rivals. Why would Draco be concerned?

He almost asked, but there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called. As he did, he noticed Draco's frown and how he slumped down in his seat. Tom smiled on the inside; it meant the boy wasn't happy about their conversation being interrupted. It meant they would talk again.

"Sorry, my Lord," Narcissa said as she walked in. "I was looking for my son," she smiled at Draco. Who returned it. "May I take him?" she asked, looking back at him.

He almost said no, but he didn't; he nodded his head and waved them off.

When Draco stood, cat in his arms, his mother held out her hand, "leave him." Narcissa said, getting a frown from her son, "we are going out." she explained. Draco sighed and looked up at him, silently asking if that would be okay.

"Leave him on the chair," he said, moving to sit behind his desk.

After Draco stopped fussing over the cat and he and his mother left. The room fell quiet, and Tom couldn't help but lean back in his chair, his eyes closed, as he thought about his upcoming plans.

Harry

When he woke, he was expecting to be in Draco's room, not Voldemort's office. The Dark Lord hunched over his desk, writing something on a piece of parchment. The oddity of it kept him from jumping off the chair and trying to rush out of the room.

He laid there watching the man work for longer than he cared to admit before a knock on the door interpreted the strange scene.

The Dark Lord looked up, almost glaring at the door. Harry had to bury his nose and mouth into the blanket to smother the snicker he had started to make.

"Come in." The man called out after shoving some of the papers he was working on off to the side. A couple fell off unnoticed to the Lord; Harry found himself watching them fall as whoever had knocked open the door walked in.

"You seem frustrated." Lucius's voice carried over him, and Harry looked away from the papers.

The man had left the door open as he walked into the room and approached Voldemort's desk.

"My plans aren't coming along as I wish they would." the man admitted before turning his chair to the side; a second later, Lucius was standing before him. Harry suddenly wished he was elsewhere as the Dark Lord's hands moved to land on Draco's father's hips, pulling the tall blonde to stand between his legs.

"For the Memorial?" Lucius asked, his eyes never leaving his Lord's. Harry tried, unburying himself from Barty's blanket. He did not want to see where this went. But his body felt sluggish and slow.

"I had hoped to undermine Albus's story."

He froze. He may not want to see what the two men did when they were alone, but he did want to know what both Voldemort and Dumbledore had planned for his memorial.

"How so?"

"Originally, I had hoped to be able to prove Harry was still alive. If he wished, expose Dumbledore's plan to have him killed. But without Harry, I've been forced to rethink that." Harry shivered from the dark look he could see the Dark Lord sending his lover.

Did Voldemort know that Lucius knew where he was? He wondered.

"How would you have done it?" Lucius asked, "Despite your attack on Azkaban, the Ministry still refuses to admit your back. Besides, if you or one of your people had shown up with Harry, the people would believe he was spelled or enchanted."

"I never said I would be there." the Dark Lord said in a tone that said that would have just been stupid. Harry again almost snickered because the man had sounded so human, so normal.

"But you could have," he continued, his hands leaving the blonde's hips to travel up his sides. Harry almost choked and went back to trying to detangle himself from the blanket.

"As a Ministry employee and a powerful leader in our community, people would listen to you. Add in Harry's own political influence and popularity, not to mention the very proof of him being alive. It wouldn't have been difficult to get people to believe either of you."

"I thought you weren't going to use him," Lucius said in a flat unhappy tone.

Harry, finally free of his blanket, stopped to look at the man. The blonde was frowning, his own hands moving to remove his lover's hands from his sides.

The Dark Lord hissed. To Harry, it sounded like he was cursing in parseltongue, "I'm not using him!" the man snapped, "I'm trying to get him out from under Dumbledore." Power flowed through the room, and Harry shivered.

"So tell him the truth!" Lucius snapped loudly before he seemed to realize who he was yelling at.

The man stopped, took a deep breath, then slid to his knees, clutching his Lord's hands in his own, "Tell him the truth, show him you are better than Albus. Don't try to use or manipulate him, even if you feel it's for his own good. It won't work." the man took a breath, "all Harry would see is another person trying to control him and his life. Tom," the blond's voice grew softer, "I know you. I understand when you twist things, manipulate them for the better, even if I do not like it. I know you do it because you care, and it's how to handle the need to protect me without attempting to lock me away from the world. You do the same for Barty and Severus. But Harry, he would not see it that way."

The power that had been building started to recede, and Harry was left completely bewildered. Not just by the fact that Lucius Malfoy was on his knees. But by how the man had spoken and how Voldemort had reacted. Instead of getting angry and hexing the blonde, he had his eyes closed and seemed to regain control over his temper and power.

Harry was dying to know what truth they were talking about.

What the hell did he not know now?

"How can I, when you and Severus refuse to tell me where he is?" The Dark Lord asked; he didn't sound angry, but he did sound unhappy.

Harry found it hard to breathe. Voldemort knew that Severus and Lucius were hiding him. The man, for some reason, wasn't torturing them for the information, though, which didn't make sense. Not with the stories Harry had heard. Or what he remembered from the graveyard. That Voldemort had been angry and more than willing to Crucio people, Harry still had nightmares about it.

"If you ordered my Lord, you know I would tell you. But I ask you not to. The situation with Harry is complicated, delicate even. If you wish for him to see you in a different light, I believe forcing a confrontation now would be unwise. Dumbledore has betrayed him, shown him his true colors. I believe Harry needs to wrap his mind around that and around the fact that the things the old fool told him aren't true."

"I am not sure we have the time," Voldemort said with a sigh. "I've done all I can to undermine Albus's story, spreading doubt amongst the heads of families and the Ministry. Even the common people have started to question it, but the longer Harry is missing, the harder it is going to be to keep that doubt alive."

"Does he need to be alive?" Lucius asked, and Harry almost hissed at the man, because yes, he needed to be alive! He jumped unnoticed off the chair and was ready to rush out the door if he had to.

"What do you mean?" the Dark Lord asked, his tone sharp, and the room suddenly felt colder.

"For your goals. My Lord," Lucius bowed his head, resting it against the other man's thigh, "Do the people need to know that Harry Potter is alive?"

Oh, Harry thought. He let out a relieved breath; for a second, he had thought Lucius was talking about killing him. Harry felt betrayed by the idea, which now felt weird. He hadn't realized how much he had grown to trust the man, not until he thought for a moment he was about to be betrayed.

The room was silent for a couple of very long minutes before the Dark Lord reached out and cupped his lover's chin, pulling his face upward to face him.

"I'd like to have him at my side." the man said, as he ran his thumb over the blond's cheek, and again Harry really wished he didn't need to see the intimacy just to hear their conversation.

"I'd like to train and teach him, show him the marvels of our magic. The public does not need to know he is alive for that. However, if he accepts his place as my Heir and all that it entails, he would need to be able to take up our families' seats in the Wizengamot, for that he cannot be dead."

What the fuck? Harry couldn't help but think. Because he had no idea what they were talking about, but he knew what an Heir was.

When Sirius hadn't been able to see him at the start of the summer, he'd sent this horribly long letter, with corrections from Remus, about wanting to name Harry his Heir and about the Will he had already signed off on.

Harry had been so bored trapped in his bedroom. He had read it over and over again, just for something to do.

Meaning Harry knew that there were only a handful of ways to be named Heir, by blood, like his parents. Or by a bond, such as a godfather. Padfoot had mentioned expectations such as marriage or conquests, but the man had admitted those tended to be for the actual Lord or Lady title, not an heir.

So how in the hell could he be Voldemort's heir?

He meowed, not meaning to. He just really wanted - no needed - an answer. Lucius's head snapped to the side of the room where Harry was standing, his gray eyes widening in shock and surprise.

"Glad to see you are feeling better." The Dark Lord said, clearly missing the horrified expression on his lover's face. The man reached down and pulled Lucius to his feet, which seemed to give the man enough time to pull himself together.

"Are you alright?" Voldemort asked as he walked around his desk to stand in front of him. He looked concerned, and if Harry wasn't so confused, he might have been amused by it, but he was, angry too. He desperately wanted to know what they had been talking about.

Harry glared up at the man, hissing. No, I'm not alright! He growled, wishing for what felt like the hundredth time he could talk as a cat.

Uncertainty flashed across the older man's face. It seemed he finally realized that Harry was not acting correctly. The Dark Lord looked over his shoulder at his lover and then back down at Harry.

Harry knew the moment the man knelt down and took hold of his head that he had figured it out. Just like with Severus weeks ago, there was a sudden understanding in his eyes as he looked at him.

"Harry," the Dark Lord whispered. It was strange how gentle he was being. His touch, his voice, even the man's magic, when it suddenly wrapped around Harry, was warm and welcoming. Surprisingly enough, it seemed to relive the last bit of pain he'd been in after his forced transformation.

"How did this happen?" Even if he was looking at Harry, the question was directed at Lucius. Who had moved to stand behind Voldemort.

"Dumbledore." the man answered.

Weirded out by the fury he saw in the Dark Lord's face at the mention of the Headmaster, Harry took a step back. Voldemort frowned then dropped his hand. He didn't try to reach for him again.

"Severus is working on a cure," he said more than asked, still not looking away from Harry. It was unnerving, and Harry felt the hairs along his spine rise; he took another step away.

"He is," Lucius hesitated for a second. Harry saw him look at him for a second, "along with a couple of others."

Harry hissed at the man, not wanting him to tell Voldemort about his friends. He didn't want them in danger or even on the Dark Lord's radar. His reaction must have been too obvious because Voldemort turned away from him to look at his lover.

"Who?" the man asked as he approached his lover.

He rushed forward, ready to scratch and claw at the blonde's legs to shut him up, but he tripped over a piece of parchment. It was one he had seen fall off the Dark Lord's desk before.

It shouldn't have caught his attention, not with what was going on, but he saw his name in dark red ink on the top, and he had to know what it said. Using his paws, he pushed the parchment until it unrolled before him.

At first, the words didn't make sense. It was an inheritance test of some kind; that much was obvious, as Harry could see his mother and father's names right about his own, the titles mother and father off to the side in gold.

But what didn't make sense was the Tom Marvolo Riddle above his mother's name. He didn't know his mother's parents' names. His aunt never talked about them. But he was pretty sure Tom Riddle and some woman named Darla Morella weren't right.

Riddle was Voldemort, and Morella was a name he'd seen on one of his Defence books, which meant she'd been a witch.

Lily had been a muggle-born, her parents and sister muggles. Harry knew that he'd spent the better part of his life being reminded of it. His aunt's nasty comments about her sisters' freakiness and the pureblood Slytherins at school mocking his mudblood mother.

So there was no way in hell Voldemort was her father.

Right?

His mind raced as he tried to think of anything else the parchment could mean.

Only he kept hearing Voldemort's comments about his heir. And the man's gentleness just now when he had been kneeling before him. The look on the man's face when he figured out who he was and had whispered his name.

He swallowed, suddenly terrified of the implication.

Because if the man believed it, believed that Harry was his heir, it meant that he believed he was Lily's father. Which meant he was Harry's grandfather. His blood. His family.

Merlin, he was shaking.

If he was related to Voldemort, it meant the man had a claim on him. He could take him away from the Durselys, which caused Harry to let out a choked sound; he was already away from them.

He shook his head, trying to fight the hysteria he could feel building.

He didn't care about his relatives; he didn't even care that he could be kept away from Dumbledore's control if it was confirmed. Because if this was true and Voldemort was related to him, it meant that the man could take him away from Sirius.

In the background, he could still hear the two men whispering hurriedly and angrily. There was even the telling sign of Voldemort's magic building up in the air around them as he grew more and more upset, which had Harry missing its more soothing touch from before. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

But he felt lucky that his discovery of the scroll and the small freak out he was currently having had gone unnoticed.

Taking a second to think about it, he nudged the parchment forward, forcing it to roll closed, then he carefully took it into his mouth and darted out of the room.

One of the men called after him, but he ignored it. He rushed through the halls, paying no attention to any of the Death Eaters he passed. He needed to get to Severus before Voldemort and Lucius caught up with him.

He wasn't sure how they would react to the parchment he stole, but he needed to see if the Potions Master knew. If he had known all along and how he felt about it. The fact that his best friend was his Lord's daughter. The same Lord that had killed her.

He hissed angrily when he arrived at a stupidly closed door.

On second thought, maybe it wasn't dumb. The twins were in there, and he didn't want anyone else knowing they were in the manor. It just pissed him off because he was scared and worried that he was being chased.

He had to drop the parchment on the ground so that he could whine, meow, and scratch at the damn door until it was opened,

Severus only opened it enough to stick his head out, which Harry was grateful about. It meant no one would have been able to spot the twins. The man looked down at him, clearly confused about what he was doing there.

Harry hissed and swatted at the parchment with his paw.

Severus raised an eyebrow before bending down and picking it up. His eyes went wide as he unrolled and read it.

He looked away from it and down at Harry, "I can explain." he said, rolling the parchment up and shoving it into his robe.