V
Harry dreamed of blackness for what seemed like a long time before feelings of nervousness and yearning fluttered about him. He was alone, just as he had been the last time a dream that began this way. The empty, drafty quality was the same and somehow the boy knew any second Riddle's presence would be felt.
"You're a late sleeper, Potter."
Ah...
Wait...was he suppose to answer in a dream? Was this even a real dream? Riddle's voice sounded awfully distinct. And that red pulse of light was so strong and alluring....
"I....guess......"
A short derisive chortle followed this muttered response, and at the sound of it, the strange dream vacuum transfigured itself into the simple darkness behind closed lids.
"I expect your presence in the library shortly."
"...Fine."
The connection wavered and held for a moment or two the way one who has one more thing to say lingers at the end of a conversation. By the time Harry opened his eyes and sat up, it seemed very possible that he'd imagined it. With the curtains charmed shut the room was still quite dark, leaving Harry no way to ascertain the time of day. Sliding off the mattress, he felt his way to the bathroom and managed a quick shower in the dark.
As if the cool water had washed away the fog of sleep as well, Harry suddenly seemed to realize the implications of their dinner conversation the previous evening. The thoughts soared through his head in a panicked jumble.
Merlin, he's going to teach me. Lord Voldemort is going to teach me all sorts of forbidden magic, and I agreed to it...
He stumbled back into the bedroom proper to find a house elf waiting there with a candelabra.
"Mr. Potter must get dressed! Master is waiting."
"Yes, I know..." he mumbled, reaching for the clothing he'd left on the bed before his shower.
"No. Master wishes for Potter to wear these," he exclaimed, extending a bundle of clothing.
"More green?"
"Potter must! Master wishes it," the elf exclaimed looking around fearfully.
"Relax, I wasn't refusing to wear it. I was only wondering at his choice of color..."
There was no reply, and almost before Harry could do up the last button on his pants the elf took him by the arm and hurried him out into the hall. He was half yanked half dragged down to the first floor where Harry was forced to round a corner or lose a shoulder blade.
"You're going to get me--"
"Shh! Master is behind that door," the elf, Wodie, Harry finally realized, proclaimed.
He finally let go of the boy's arm and pushed him up to the door. When Harry hesitated to say or do anything, Wodie knocked three times and then vanished in a puff of smoke. A stern voice bade him enter, which he did after a moment's hesitation.
Riddle stood with his back to the door, gazing out over a plateau embracing the sea. His outer robe had been discarded over the back of a chair allowing the late morning sun to silhouette his slim form. In a baroque shirt and form-fitting trousers that disappeared down into his boots, Riddle looked every bit the noble horseman of a gothic novel - the type of wizard that every witch Ginny's age would swoon over.
There was something decidedly ironic about that concept. Even more ironic, Harry thought he might swoon as well as he knelt there waiting.
Get a grip Harry...
"Indeed, or you'll never be able to concentrate on your first assignment."
Harry colored darkly. There had to be someway to keep him out of his head at least some of the time. He couldn't bring himself to look up when Riddle approached for fear of revealing his blush. But he managed not to stiffen this time.
He stared at the tips of the older wizard's boots until something hit the floor in front of him. He jumped in startlement, but relaxed to see that it was only a book.
"You're to have this entire book read before noon. We'll discuss the contents over lunch, and these..." he continued, dropping two more, "...are to be done by the end of the week."
Harry blanched. It had never taken him less than a day to read an entire book before, skimming included. Now he was expected to finish an entire book in a matter of hours? Was he insane?
"It has been considered arguable."
Not again....
"Why must you continue to do that?"
"Do what, Potter?"
"Invade my thoughts."
Harry wasn't looking up, but he got the impression that Riddle shrugged.
"You belong to me Harry...as do your thoughts." He let his hand glide into the boy's locks. "Masters have found more unpleasant ways of amusing themselves with their servants. Would you prefer that I found some other way as well?"
The implication made the boy suddenly more uncomfortable. The hand continued to caress his hair and cheek sweetly, subtly contrasting the Dark Lord's words.
"No, but...doesn't this also amuse you?" he asked in a voice he barely recognized as his own. Riddle's hand stilled immediately.
Oh god. It was too bold. What was I thinking?
Riddle guided the boy to his feet and forced his chin up so that he might look at his face. Anxious green met intense red and the boy could feel his mind being wracked. The color found its merry way back to Harry's face, but before he could look away Riddle's mouth was on his.
He felt his knees weakening and his stomach trembling but he was held firmly by a hand on the back of his neck and on his waist. Colors began to dance before his vision from a lack of oxygen, but he couldn't bring himself to interrupt the exchange even for his own sake. Fortunately, Riddle pulled away before any damage was done.
"There'll be plenty of time for that sort of...instruction. You've enough on your plate for now," he said softly. He left, leaving Harry trembling with the loss of contact and the realization of what just happened. He'd wanted Riddle to kiss him. He still wanted him to, and Merlin only knew what else.
Why is this happening to me?
Harry knew it would be some feat to read a book with those images to contend with, yet he still picked up the books and leafed through the one due by noon. It wasn't terribly long, though there didn't seem to be any pictures to make up the bulk like the texts at Hogwarts. Auras and Magical Signatures. Should be an interesting read, he mused, taking a seat on one of the sofas - there were quite a few and wall to wall shelves of books interrupted only by windows. Glancing once more at the door, he opened the book and prayed he could finish by noon.
At 11:58am Harry burst into the dining room clutching the book he'd just finished. Riddle had been raising a glass of white wine to his lips but he lowered it at the sight of his charge.
"I've finished it...sir."
"Indeed. Sit."
The table filled with food as soon as he took his chair. He hesitated in taking up a fork; Riddle was considering him with an odd expression.
"I do hope you've absorbed the contents of that book in your haste to finish it."
"Will I be practicing any of it soon?"
"Tonight."
A moments pause. "With...you?"
"Yes and no..." Riddle stood up and began to slowly pace around his end of the dining room. "There's to be a gathering tonight. You're to come along." As Harry stared at him expectantly, the older wizard waved a wayward hand in his direction. "The food isn't charmed to feed you, boy."
He slowly selected a few dishes and started to eat but a thought struck him. "You're not eating any?"
Riddle swirled his wine. "My taste for many things died with my last body. Fortunately, food is no longer a necessity." His tone neither implied nor suggested that he regretted it. "A good wine, however, still holds some delectation."
Harry vaguely wondered why the Dark Lord bothered with fruit and wine if he didn't need it, but supposed some things couldn't be let go of.
Riddle continued to consider the boy as he ate, which he noticed made him reasonably uncomfortable. His hand would falter with his utensils now and then or he'd risk a glance in Riddle's direction. It was rather peculiar the way Harry's bold streaks came and went. The older wizard couldn't decide which side he found more appealing. He supposed Harry would settle into one given a little time.
Wonder which it'll be...
When the soft clattering of utensils came to halt Riddle chose that moment to begin asking the boy questions about the book he'd finished. He understood more than expected and he seemed to have an affinity for the abstract. There were some concepts that needed elaboration, such as methods of evaluating magical strength, but the results were promising.
Even more assuring was Harry's attentiveness. He offered his complete attention, and took in every word fallen from the Dark Lord's mouth. Riddle reveled in the feeling of those emerald eyes on him as he paced and lectured. He desired the boy and had no doubts about Potter's feelings either - like his fear, it rolled off of him in waves. And if that wasn't proof enough, then Potter's behavior in the library was sufficient. As soon as he'd felt the stirrings of real passion in the boy, he knew it was time to pull away. As entertaining as it was, there was no sense in getting him all hot and bothered......yet. After all, there would be plenty of time for that.
Eventually he'd released the boy to do as he pleased until midnight - that was when he would call his Death Eaters. He thought to prepare the boy for what these meetings entailed but decided it would be more beneficial for him to learn on his own. It just wouldn't do to coddle him - the boy had to think on his own, after all.
Riddle returned to the cellar where work patiently awaited him.
Harry spent much of the time after lunch wandering around the mansion and thinking, and after two hours his thoughts namely landed on the gathering and what it would entail. Death Eaters were the worst of wizards and everyone knew their society was supported primarily by their anti-muggle sentiment. Would there be some classic show of muggle abuse to get the ball rolling? Would he have to participate?
Potter shuddered to think of it.
He may be playing along out of lack of better options, but he didn't think he could ever adopt as petty a principle as 'muggles are inferior'. He hoped Riddle didn't expect him to whole-heartedly join in the festivities. In giving the Dark Lord his word to submit to his service, he never considered what his role would be amongst willing followers. They must still hate him, especially Lucius. Merlin, would Riddle allow them to satisfy their violent loathing for him? If he did, Harry didn't think he could continue to keep his promise.
Why shouldn't he let them? A small voice asked within himself. Harry considered this and couldn't think of any concrete reason why Lord Voldemort shouldn't or wouldn't allow his Death Eaters to make jolly good sport of The-Boy-Who-Lived now that he was in the Dark Lord's possession. Actually, it made perfect sense considering how lenient Riddle had been thus far. There was always a catch, wasn't there?
Suddenly Harry dreaded the gathering even more. He knew there had to be reason Riddle didn't bother to explain or warn him - just told him to go to one of the sitting rooms on the first floor a few minutes before midnight. If he still had his wand at least he'd feel a little less hopeless. But the uncertainty made him expect the worst, and 'the worst' could get pretty bad around here.
Harry ended up on the first floor and decided to at least find the room in advance so as not to add tardiness to his list of troubles. He found the entrance hall and front door but didn't need to try it to know it was locked and warded. He soon came to a dead-end hallway with an arched stone door at the end, rather out of place in the lavish Victorian decor. As he lifted one foot in its direction, his left earlobe erupted in pain. He stumbled out of the hall with a surprised cry, amazed by the sudden retreat of the pain. Though he'd forgotten about the earring thus far, it didn't take him long to connect the dots.
'...just a precaution...'
An interesting find in the least. So this was one of the places he obviously wasn't encouraged to explore. That meant it warranted looking into, or at least inquiring about it. Funny the earring didn't go off at the front doors - one would think....
Suddenly a 'pop' and a puff of smoke had him back in his bedroom.
"--The hell?..."
"Potter mustn't disturb that place."
"Wodie? Why mustn't it be disturbed? What is it?"
The elf shook its head and snapped his fingers, bringing them to a smaller dining room.
"Time for Potter to eat," it announced and the table filled with food.
'What about Ri-- I mean, Lord Voldemort? He's not coming?"
"Master is busy. Potter eat alone."
Not bothering to ask what his master was doing, Harry ate and set off to find his room again, belatedly realizing he'd forgotten to ask Wodie where it was in relation to this dining room. If he got lost again Riddle would think he was some sort of dawdling screw-up. Wishing for one of the Hogworts portraits, Harry wandered until he found a stairway to the second floor. Now he was on familiar ground.
Phew.
En route to his bedroom, Harry finally noticed they lack of portraits around the mansion. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen one anywhere so far. One would think an old mansion like this would have quite a few of them. That just had to be significant in some way, didn't it?
Strange warded doors, no portraits, the secrecy...Something was going on. This was Lord Voldemort! Something was always going on or being plotted. Harry wondered what any of this had to do with the Death Eaters, IF it had anything to do with them at all.
Harry decided to have a lie-down until it was time for the gathering of Riddle's followers. At least he could sort all this nonsense out and brace himself. He had a feeling that he would need all of his mental strength that night.