A/N – I heart my reviewers, thanks to all of you. :-) And the chapters are going to be posted at more irregular times than La Rencontre Momentanée. Sorry, but school and stuff…. Yeah. In any case, enjoy.
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"I cannot help but feeling… used, Professor," Harry said silkily. "Surely you recognize that I don't wish to be a pawn in your chess game. I am worth more than that."
"You are the sacrifice, Harry," Dumbledore answered. "The only way to kill the Dark Lord is through you. It's for the common good."
"To hell with the common good," Harry snapped, drawing out his wand. "You are manipulative and overbearing. I don't need you anymore."
"No, Harry, you don't," Dumbledore agreed sadly. "But we need you. "You're the weapon, the war trophy."
"You bastard," Harry snarled. "Avada Kedavra." And with a careless flick of his wand, Albus Dumbledore lay at his feet, dead.
It feels good, doesn't it, the same cold voice asked. You don't need him, he's only hindering you. They all are. Except me. I won't hinder you, Harry, I will only aid. Your power will be unparalleled, great than mine even. Although not quite yet, they said with a smile, neither of us is ready yet. But it will be amazing.
"When?" Harry asked. "When does it begin?"
Dear boy, it already has, the voice chuckled.
The Dark Mark burned, agonizing, consuming his flesh, muscle. Only bone was left, milk-white and brittle. He was screaming, clawing at the disappearing flesh. From his place on the ground, Dumbledore, waxy and glassy-eyed, laughed at him.
---
"Potter! Are you awake?" A rough shove. "You shut up, at least." Over his shoulder. "Think I can still smother him?"
"Malfoy?" Harry struggled to sit up. "Why are you standing over me at two in the morning?"
"You didn't hear yourself?" Justin asked, pushing back the curtain around his bed. "You were screaming."
"Oh god, guys, I'm sorry," Harry groaned. "I had a nightmare. Feel free to wake me up if I do it again."
"You think we didn't try?" Xanthus laughed wryly. "It was like you were… stuck asleep." He blinked. "That sounds stupid."
"Sure does," Draco agreed as he crawled back into bed. "Potter, next time you start yelling can I smother you?"
"No," Harry said as he pulled the curtain shut. But the rest of the night, he had feverish uneasy dreams of death and that cold voice.
---
He awoke again early, Dark Mark throbbing. Digging through his trunk, he saw that Dobby had packed his gauze and ointment. But when he peeled back the old gauze, he nearly choked. It was darker than he remembered, looking almost charred. He rewrapped it quickly before pulling back the drape.
He wasn't the only one up; Draco was sitting on the edge of his bed brushing his hair. It touched the nape of his neck, Harry noted; he must have grown it out over holidays. He looked over disturbingly like Lucius then. And even moreso when he glanced over, eyes sparkling with mockery and confidence, and raised an eyebrow. "See something you like?" he asked coolly.
"Don't flatter yourself," Harry snapped. "I was just thinking that you look like L – your father," he corrected, mentally kicking himself.
Draco had caught it, though. "Since when are you on a first-name basis with my father?" he asked suspiciously.
Harry shrugged. "I'm just disrespectful, I suppose."
"Yes, well, people of your caliber and acquaintance typically are," Draco smirked. He set down the brush and picked up a bottle of Sleekeasy's Hair Potion and spritzed it on liberally. "Funny you should mention, though," he continued.
Oh god, he was going to throw up. "Why's that?"
"He said that our very own Boy-Who-Lived got the Dark Mark this summer," Draco said eagerly. He leaned forward. "So did you?"
"No." Harry pulled out a set of robes and tossed them onto his pillow. "I think your dad's cracked."
"Well, I think you're lying."
"Malfoy, if I were a Death Eater you'd be the first one dead."
Draco sneered. "Is that a threat?"
Harry raised an eyebrow in return. "Is that a dare?" He gathered his robes and toiletries and locked himself in the bathroom, shaking.
---
"Morning, 'Arry," Tonks greeted him cheerily as he took a seat in the Great Hall. She offered him bacon, which he accepted gratefully. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah," Harry lied.
"You don't look like it," Tonks said honestly. She patted him on the shoulder. "I'm going to be teaching a class today," she confided. "Don't tell anyone, I want it to be a secret. I'm so nervous," she giggled.
"What're you teaching?" Harry asked with interest.
"Magical medicine," she said proudly. "Wartime injuries, you know, we'll be in need of a lot more medics. Ginny said she was interested, but I don't know how Molly would feel about that. Hopefully we don't get that desperate though, to be using underage students."
"Hopefully not," Harry agreed absently.
"So how was your summer?" Tonks asked with a tone of forced brightness.
His stomach tightened again, and he dropped the second piece of bacon he was about to eat. "It was alright," he lied easily. "Spent most of it here on Dumbledore's wishes."
"Oh, mate, I'm sorry," Tonks frowned. "I went to Spain holidays, if I'd known you were here I would've kidnapped you and taken you with me."
He tried to stay calm, really, he did. But he felt the blood drains from his face. Kidnap him like Lucius had. He didn't want to think about him. Lucius, manipulative and backstabbing and sexy as hell. "Harry?" Tonks peered at him. "Harry, you look a bit peaky."
"Would you excuse me," Harry muttered. He pushed back his chair hastily and ran to the bathroom.
---
He was gargling at the sink when Ron pushed open the door, looking concerned. "Harry? We called you in the hall. What's wrong?"
Harry shook his head and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I'm okay now."
"Good. Let's go meet 'Mione." He took Harry's wrist and guided him out of the bathroom.
Hermione was leaning against a wall uneasily. "'Morning, Harry," she said, sounding relieved. "Are you alright?"
Two days into school and he was already sick of hearing that. "Yeah."
"No, really." They started back at an easy pace to the Great Hall.
"What makes you think I'm lying?"
Hermione smiled. "Your nostrils flare when you lie. So what really happened this summer?"
Ron was watching his features closely. "Can you lie, Harry?" he asked.
Harry sighed. "I told you, I stayed here."
Ron looked disappointed. "The entire time?" he pressed.
"No." Harry pushed his fingers through his hair. "Look, I do want to talk it out with someone. But not right in the middle of the hall."
Hermione glanced over. "Fair enough. Your room?"
"No. Somewhere safer."
"Well, we're rather limited," she said in exasperation.
Ron raised an eyebrow. "How about we go upstairs, then?" When Hermione began to protest, he pointed out, "You're right, no one's allowed up there, so there's no chance of being overheard."
"Oh fine." And they cautiously overstepped the barrier and ran up the staircase.
"You sure nobody's up here?" Harry asked, looking around into the darkness.
"No, but they shouldn't be," Ron answered, taking a seat against the cold stone wall. Harry and Hermione joined him. "So Harry," he said cheerfully," what's on your mind?"
And Harry told them everything.
---
It was silent after he finished, somber and shocked. Finally Ron said quietly, "Well, let's see it then."
"See what?"
"The Dark Mark, you idiot." His tone was harsher than necessary.
Harry pulled back his sleeve. "Are you sure?"
"No, you don't have to," Hermione told him softly. "I believe you."
"You have to," Ron spoke over her. "I don't want to believe you. So show me."
Harry pulled the gauze off slowly, unwillingly. He thrust his arm out to Ron, and he squinted in the weak light. He ran his fingers over it, and a wave of nausea again overcame him.
Oh yes, the voice from is dreams said. The Muggle-loving best friend. Arthur's son? He's going to die, Harry. Betray you, leave you, and then get killed. Distance yourself from people like this, stupid idealistic flea-ridden –
"No!" Harry shouted suddenly, pulling away. Ron looked startled.
"No," he agreed. "No, I can't be friends with someone like you."
"Ron, I'm sorry. I was forced into it – "
"You said he gave you a choice!" Ron interrupted hotly. "You wanted to study Dark Arts, you didn't protest to these lessons he gave you. You wanted this, Harry, all along. You could've said no! Unless you were too busy sleeping with Lucius Malfoy to think of that," he finished brusquely.
"Don't you even assume that," Harry snarled, standing. Ron rose to match his height. "Don't you even assume that was related."
"So why did it happen?" Ron challenged.
"Because… I care about him," Harry fumbled to explain. "Cared," he corrected himself as an afterthought.
"Oh, I'm sure you do," Ron snapped. "You care about him and the rest of your Death Eater friends as well, no doubt." He turned on his heel. "I don't even want to be seen with you," he said disgustedly over his shoulder. "Goodbye, Harry."
Hermione had watched the ordeal silently, and only now stood and gave Harry a tentative hug. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea," she said sadly into his chest. He laughed a little bitterly. She pulled away, and even in the faint light he saw her eyes bright with tears. "Listen, I… I'm not going to react like Ron. But I need some time to think, to figure out how I feel about this. I'll see you later." She left without another word, leaving Harry standing alone in the unlit hallway.
"Potter, I should expel you for being up here." He whirled around to find Snape leaning against a doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "However, while I decide your fate you can come pack up equipment." He reentered the classroom and Harry followed reluctantly.
Snape was stacking crates of hellebore and motioned to scales on the counter. "Box those up, they're needed in the dungeon." He turned back to a supply cabinet.
Harry sullenly fitted them back into their Styrofoam and replaced them in the box.
"I'd have thought your judgment was better than that, even being you," Snape commented.
"What're you talking about?" Harry snapped.
"Sleeping with Lucius, to begin with," Snape replied acidly.
Harry felt the knot in his stomach tighten just a little more. "It really doesn't affect you now, though, does it?"
Snape set down the box he had been filling. "I've known him since I was seven years old," he began coolly. "Our fathers were together in the Dark Arts. I went to school with him for several years. He is charismatic, well-spoken, intelligent, and cultured." Harry saw his fists clench tightly. "He is also ambitious, cunning, and powerful. Not bad traits in and of themselves, but Harry, he's dangerous."
"He's not, and I don't want to talk about this," Harry said in a measured tone.
Snape snorted. "I know you're not going to listen to Dumbledore. You're probably not going to listen to me or anyone else either. Because you're famous Harry Potter and you're tragically misunderstood and nobody has the answers but you. But humor me for a minute."
"You're not exactly endearing yourself to me." He closed the box and leaned up against the counter. "But I'd be fascinated to hear what you've got to say," he said icily.
Snape threw open a second cupboard violently. "No. You don't care, why waste the effort. Surely you realize that right now your options are either Death Eater or death. And you know exactly how to handle the situation, based on your cockiness. And you know what being a Death Eater entails exactly. Right, Potter?"
"Yes."
Snape clenched his fists again. "Carry that to the Potions classroom," he instructed Harry. "And get the hell out of my sight."
"Yes, sir," Harry spat. He lifted the box onto a shoulder and stalked out of the room, seething.