The Boy Who Cried - Part IV

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To learn more about this fic and its place in the altraverse I've
created, go to my website at http://www.geocities.com/ratheramutemwiya/

Warning: This is slash, like all my Harry Potter fics. This is Neville
and Draco... although this story is focusing mainly on what drove
Neville to accept Draco's bargain, so there isn't much slash *yet.* :-)

Warning even to People who can Tolerate Slash: You aren't going to like
my potrayal of Neville, I can almost guarantee it... but please read
anyways!!

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Neville awoke to a strong hand shaking him, and for a panicked
moment he thought his grandmother had somehow apparated herself
to Hogwarts for the sole purpose of disturbing his peaceful night of
rest. "I'm awake, I'm awake" He mumbled, his voice slurred from
weariness as he forced his stony eyelids to open and admit the
horrid light of morning.

But there was no light of morning, Neville realized in shock. The
only light in the chamber was emmitting from the tip of a wand... a
wand held by... "Draco?" Neville whispered hesitantly, "What are you
doing here?"

Draco waved his hand to dismiss the question, causing a headache
inducing whirl of light from his wand to flash in Neville's eyes.
"Just get dressed, Neville." Draco snapped with the tone of one
used to being obeyed. "I'll explain everything when we are
outside of Hogwarts.

Relucantly, Neville tore himself from the warmth of his bed and
pulled his school robes on lopsidedly over his silk red pajama
pants and bared chest. Out of the corner of his eye, Neville saw
Draco turn a shade pink and hurriedly avert his gaze from Neville.
As Neville peered under his bed in search of his boots and a pair
of clean socks, another thought occured to him. "How did you get
into the Gryffindor dorm?"

Rather abashedly, Draco held up the ripped corner of a scrolls.
On it was enscribed the newest Gryffindor password, in Neville's
own writing. "This fell out of your pocket at lunch. I thought it
might come in handy."

Neville managed a rueful grin at this. "Well, better you had found it
than a mass murderer like last time, I suppose." He paused. "At
least, I'm hoping you aren't a mass murderer."

Draco laughed. "No, I'm not. Now hurry up." Neville pulled on his
boots and followed Draco down the stairs out of the Gryffindor
dorms.

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Draco heard a loud thud behind him, followed by a muffled "Ouch!"
He almost cracked a smile at this, and asked questioningly to the
darkness, "Neville? You alright?"

"What do you think?" Came the grumpy reply. Once a klutz, always
a klutz, it seemed, Draco thought wryly. It seemed Neville wasn't
much of a night person either. He retraced his path back through
the last yards of the Forbidden Forest, his wand held aloft.

Neville crouched on a large rock, nursing his foot with a rueful
grimace. "I hope you don't mind if we take a moment's break." He
almost snapped. "But some of us can't stumble out of bed this
late at night and still function normally."

Obligingly, Draco leaned against the gnarled trunk of a tree and
waited. From there he regarded Neville with an amused smile, noting
that their journey through the brambly woods was not improving
the condition of Neville's appearance much. Neville's hair was
tangled, and the occasional leaf had made its way into the long
hair that Neville usually kept secure in a pony tail. The tie on
his robes had fallen loose, and the ends trailed in the dirt of
the road.

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Aware of Draco's almost mocking scrutiny, Neville glared over at
the other boy. Even after the tiring walk, Draco's appearance was
perfection itself, his robes looked not a bit out of place, and
his hair sparkled in full glory as it trailed down his neck, with
only a few strands rebelling to fall alluringly over Draco's eyes
As Draco reached one delicate hand to brush the strands away,
Neville forced himself to stare down at his boots, suddenly intent
on retying his shoelaces.

Draco's attention was caught by a sudden gleam through the trees.
"It's time!" He whispered gleefully, "C'mon, Neville." Neville
rose to his feet with a groan and struggled to keep up with Draco
as he ran towards the light.

"You still haven't told me what this is all about!" Neville
snapped rather peevishly, but Draco didn't answer. Instead, he
pulled Neville forward, towards the light, towards a glowing
skull. Draco touched the skull, and suddenly everything around
them disappeared.

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Neville's legs went weak under him as abruptly he found himself
standing not in a forest but in a house- a mansion, rather. He gazed
up at a ceiling that stood three times as large as he was tall, and
the chamber into which he had been transported was nearly as large
as the house he'd shared with his grandmother for most of his life.
He felt Draco's strong arm aid him in standing, and was most grateful-
for the sight which met his eyes next was far more overwhelming than
the elegant room alone could be. For meeting his gaze as he stood
trembling was a man that often had been described to him, but who
never before he had encountered.

For the gaze that met his belonged to none other than Lord Voldemort.

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Draco waited worriedly as Voldemort drew Neville forward, reading
into Neville's mind as easily as if it were an open book. No words
were spoken, and Draco could not determine from watching how the
interview was proceeding. One thing remained clear to him, however:
it was too early for this, Neville was not ready. But Draco was a
death eater of little consequence still, and it was not for him to
decide when Voldemort initiated Neville. He only hoped that Neville
survived the process.

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Neville stood before Voldemort, feeling the monster, or man, tearing
into his soul. What was he searching for, Neville wondered, but the
Lord Voldemort gave no sign. After what felt like hours, but was in
reality only a few minutes, Voldemort withdrew his touch from Neville's
mind. "Are you ready, then, to join the ranks of the Death Eaters?"

Unable to answer, unable to speak when faced with Voldemort's piercing
gaze, Neville only nodded. No, I'm not ready, he wanted to protest.
I'm not ready to bear your mark, I'm not ready to face death and murder.
But he said none of this. I'm not ready, Neville thought, but I want
to join you all the same.

Neville felt the touch of Voldemort's wand upon his arm, and his world
dissolved into pain.

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After Draco had carried Neville back through the port key, Voldemort
remained seated in his throne, remembering. Yes, Neville would be
perfect for his plans, coward though the boy was. Going through his
mind, Voldemort had seen the echoes of the potential that had once
led to another loyal servant, Peter Pettigrew.

Yess... Neville would be of use.

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To be Continued.... I'm trying to develop this story with just
Neville and the Slytherins, since the Gryffindors are all so
involved in their own love affairs in my other stories.