AN: Hey everyone! I know, I know; I'm a little late on an update. I'm sorry girls and guys, but I was wrapped up in doing a few things. Sorry. Also, I've seen tons of new reviewers and I am pleased. This story has 133 reviews! Truthfully? That's more than what I ever thought I'd get. I was and still am a bit, very self-conscious about my writing and my stories, especially this one since it's my baby. But I believe I'm worrying for nothing because out of 133 reviews I have recieved NOT ONE bad review. I was shocked to discover this, but it is true. So thank you all out there who are giving my story a chance.

Now, without futher ado I present chapter 18 of Razorblade Connection to you all!
Chapter 18: Lust, Enigmas and Meeting with a Dark Lord

After that night where they had kissed things eased back into the flow of their friendship with the added twist of the now acknowledged attraction between them. Though they spent no more or less time together than before, the times that they did were no less intense than that first time in the abandoned classroom. Though they hadn't actually labeled what they are they both knew they weren't anything serious.

On some nights over the following week Harry would stay the night in Draco's rooms, sleep in Draco's bed curled up around each other. On one of those nights Draco had awoken from a nightmare and Harry had awoken and began to comfort the blond. After a few minutes of trembling and ragged breathing Draco had calmed down, and Harry had asked about the nightmare he had had. After a moment of hesitation and a bout of stubbornness on Harry's part Draco had caved and told about his dream. Harry had been there for the other boy, kissed him thoroughly, and they had slowly settled back into sleep.

Things between them were comfortable; they kissed, groped and teased each other whenever they were alone, and would pass each other looks during the day when no one was looking. They spent as much time together during the following week after the kiss as possible. One memorable day would have been that Sunday.

Flashback

Harry walked from Gryffindor Tower with a scowl on his face; he'd just had a hell of a time getting past Ron and Hermione who had put up a bit of a stubborn front to find out where he was going and why they couldn't come. He was extremely glad he'd remembered to put the locking charms on his trunk. Glancing over his shoulder for a moment he sighed before continuing on his way. It was Sunday afternoon and he had asked Draco to meet him in an abandoned classroom. He was already five minutes late and he hoped Draco would still be waiting for him. He didn't hurry, but kept his casual pace. As he went he occasionally checked around to see if he was being followed; mainly by Ron and Hermione, but also for others. He made his way to the floor he needed and then walked down the corridor, turned right, and continued on. He looked around as he approached his destination, and satisfied that no one was around he slipped into the room with a sigh.

"You're late," Draco said the second he stepped in. Harry rolled his eyes at the blond and quickly began to cast locking and silencing charms.

"Shut up you prat I had to get past Ron and Hermione again," Harry shot back looking at the blond with slight annoyance. He walked over towards the huge teacher's desk the Slytherin was sitting on and sat down next to him.

Draco smirked at him. "So the watchdogs are at it again?" he asked innocently. Harry gave him a stern look, but his lips were twitching as if he was trying not to smile. After a moment chuckles began to escape the black haired boy.

"Don't call them that," Harry said after his mirth had died down. "Besides aren't Crabbe and Goyle the same?"

"No," Draco shook his head looking mildly amused. "They don't actually care about me like Weasley and Granger do you. At least I don't think they do. They don't say much," Draco finished with a shrug.

"Maybe because you're constantly talking and they can't get a word in," Harry said cheekily, grinning slyly at the blond.

"Oi! Potter, are you saying I talk too much?" Draco asked as he turned towards Harry fully, a playful gleam to his eyes.

"Maybe, maybe not Malfoy." Was the amused reply from Harry. Draco gave him a smirk before pouncing on him, straddling his waist and diving in for a kiss. Their lips crashed together, moving against one another in slow, soft movements. Draco brushed his tongue tip against Harry's bottom lip, and the Gryffindor parted his lips in welcome to the request. Draco swept his tongue into the other's mouth; a slow glide of velvet heat mapping out a warm cavern. He traced his tongue along the roof of Harry's mouth, against the ridges, and then twisted it with Harry's. Draco slipped his hands into Harry's soft hair, tugging lightly at the raven strands.

Harry's arms came up and around the blond's lithe body, wrapping around his waist and pulling them closer together. Draco nipped gently at Harry's bottom lip as he ground his hips downwards; they're half hard lengths meeting. They both let out breathy moans at the contact as the kiss became more intense, fiercer, and more passionate. Harry bucked up slightly, moved his hands to wrap around each of the blond's hips and pulled him down grinding upwards. The kiss broke as Draco pulled back, throwing his head back with a moan that was reciprocated by the boy beneath him. Draco rocked his hips back and forth; gave a small circular motion and rocked again, all the while his hands tugged lightly at Harry's hair.

"Mmm, Draco," Harry gasped as he thrust upwards. Moving one hand from Draco's hip he put it to the back of the Slytherin's neck, and pulled him down into another kiss. Mouths crashing together, teeth click slightly, they kissed fiercely, tongues dancing in heated rhythm as they thrust against one another. Their hard cocks brushed through their trousers; heat and friction and pressure making a delicious combination to the two aroused boys. Harry's hand moved from Draco's neck down his back to cup one round, firm cheek. One hand on the blond's hip and the other on an arse cheek, and Harry was pulling Draco down against him as he thrust upwards.

Draco whimpered; the sound bubbling forth from his throat as he moved his mouth from Harry's and began scattering kisses down his jaw. He reached his neck and peppered it with kisses and licks before nibbling on the tanned flesh. Harry moaned at the treatment as he squeezed the cheek in his hand causing Draco to buck heavily against him and groan loudly. Latching onto a patch of skin on the Gryffindor's neck Draco sucked the area into his mouth then soothed it with his tongue. Harry gasped, took his hand off Draco's arse, and rolled them over. They were close to the edge of the desk but not in danger of falling off. Planting his hands either side of Draco's head he thrust down, grinding his achingly hard length into the blond's. Gasping harshly, Draco panted as Harry repeated the action.

"Harry," Draco moaned as the black haired boy dipped his head, and licked a broad strip along the pale throat. Draco threw his arms around Harry's neck as he writhed beneath him. Harry nuzzled into Draco's throat as their rhythm became more erratic. He could feel his orgasm approaching like an incoming tide rising from the sea in waves only to come crashing down on him. Thrusting down hard in ragged patterns once, twice, thrice he felt Draco stiffen under him before letting out a hoarse cry. Harry thrust against Draco a few more times before he stilled and came with a roughly hissed, "Fuck, Draco!" that he didn't even realize was in parseltongue.

He collapsed against Draco panting harshly, and he could hear the blond struggling to pull in breaths through tagged gasps in his ear. After a moment of silence aside from their harsh breathing Harry felt Draco shaking under him seconds before he heard him chuckling. Pulling back and looking down at the blond with confusion he quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

"Do you always speak Parseltongue when you come?" Draco asked with a smirk on his face. Harry's eyes widened and he groaned loudly before burying his head against the pale throat again. He chuckled and the vibrations reverberated through his chest which was flat against Draco's.

"Yeah, that's been known to happen occasionally," Harry muttered between chuckles. Draco heard and burst out laughing, shaking with his mirth which Harry could feel as he, too, laughed.

"What else do you do in parseltongue?" Draco asked taking hold of his wand and casting cleaning charms on both of them.

"Well," Harry began, pulling back to look at Draco's face. "You may find me ranting in parseltongue now and again, you never know which language I'll slip into when, ah, worked up." Harry grinned. Draco giggled, actually giggled before pulling Harry down into another kiss which lasted for long moments. Harry pulled back nipping the blond's bottom lip in the process before he slowly began to get off of Draco. Draco sat up and began to readjust, and smooth down his clothes as did Harry.

"You didn't seem bothered about it," Harry commented retaking his seat on the desk beside Draco.

Draco glanced over at him and gave him a smile. "Slytherins actually don't have the stereotype of 'if you're a Parselmouth you're evil' like other people do. It didn't bother me to hear it. Surprised the hell out of me in second year but didn't actually bother me. I had been amazed and envious that you got that ability," Draco replied with a shrug. Then he smirked. "Besides, it's bloody hot when not spoken with malicious inflection behind it."

"I've never spoken it with malicious inflection, at least not the times you've heard me," Harry said giving Draco a pointed look. "There's only one other Parselmouth I know."

Draco looked back at Harry with a blank expression on his face inwardly cursing himself for his slip up. They never discussed Voldemort around each other, at least very, very rarely since they had first called the truce. It was an awkward and tense topic, and Harry's intense green eyes weren't helping the matter. The silence stretched for another long, tense moment before Draco sighed.

"You know my Father's a sick and twisted bastard. Well in the summer after fourth year he made me view some of his memories in a pensieve; Death Eater meeting and revels from the first war, tons of them," Draco's voice had gone hollow and empty, and his eyes took on a far away almost haunted look. He didn't notice Harry's face hardening, and his eyes darkening in anger.

"I saw what they did during those meetings. They tortured and raped and killed! Somehow I had fooled myself into thinking that the Dark Lord just wanted to keep the different bloods separate, keep them from reproducing together. I foolishly led myself to believe that he meant segregation instead of genocide," Draco trailed off before shaking his head as if coming out of a trance. "That's where I heard it," he finished quietly, not looking at the raven haired boy.

A long, tense moment of silence followed. Finally, Draco looked up at the other and saw a mirthless smile on his lips that left his eyes empty and cold. Draco felt a shiver crawl up his spine at the look.

"Death Eater meeting aren't the most pleasant of things to watch," Harry said agreeably in a calm tone. He was thinking about some of the visions he had had that summer and in the beginning of the year. "They're vicious and ruthless, Death Eaters are. When I actually started thinking for myself I wondered if you Slytherins even knew what it meant to BE a Death Eater. Guess you finally understand." Harry finished with a quirk of his brow and a grim smile.

Draco stared at Harry having never scene this side of the many facets of Harry Potter. Draco was curious about when Harry saw a Death Eater meeting but didn't ask. They had been on this topic enough for one day, and he wasn't sure he was up for treading deeper. Especially if more of Harry's psyche was revealed. The Gryffindor was more complex than he had thought.

Instead he said, "I think you're right. I don't think most Slytherins understand the full scope of becoming a Death Eater. Merlin, I don't think I even understand the full concept." Draco muttered the last with a sigh. "Well that discussion killed any arousal I might have had left. Don't know about you," Draco commented lightly.

Harry's smile turned a little more genuine and he sighed. "Perfect way to get rid of a hard-on in a hurry," Harry nodded sagely. Draco gave him an odd look to which Harry just smirked. Draco shook his head.

We are so bloody weird, Draco thought. "Was there another reason you had asked me here, or was it just so we could rut like bunnies?" Draco asked with a quirked brow.

Harry looked briefly confused before the expression cleared. "I need help for a bit of revenge on Cho," Harry replied. Draco grinned wickedly at him which Harry returned, and they dove into a discussion about pranks and revenge.

End Flashback

Two days after that meeting during breakfast Cho Chang had took a sip of her morning beverage, and soon found all her hair dropping from her head. She had shrieked and the Hall had erupted into chaos. During the chaos Harry had surreptitiously slipped his wand out, and incanted the spell he and Draco had discussed. And there in the middle of her bald head the words 'Cho the Hoe' appeared in blue writing. The students had a great laugh at the expanse of the Ravenclaw who had been crying about her hair, and the cruelty that was opposed upon her. Her drink had had a potion in it that Harry had sworn Dobby to never tell about, and to pour it into her cup which would cause temporary baldness that would grow back within the hour. The sight had been hilarious and he had, for once, been glad for Colin and his habit of carrying around his camera. He remembered Cho having fainted after awhile from shock he supposed. He had felt much better after that episode though the looks Dumbledore gave him as he was leaving the Hall for his first class had been a bit disconcerting. Though some were suspicious of him being behind it no one had been blamed for it.

The room was filled with fumes from the bubbling, churning cauldrons that sat atop the work tables. Plumes of smoke rose from each; some in thick puffs and others in wispy tendrils. The plumes of smoke were a multitude of colors that rose to the ceiling, and blended in a larger cloud of swirling color. The only sounds in the room were that of the cauldrons of potions bubbling and popping occasionally, the crackle of the flames under them, and the slow and even breathing of its one occupant. The room was heavy with the smell of the potions being made, but its occupant wasn't bothered by it.

Hovering over a cauldron of blue potion Severus stirred the contents clockwise slowly. The potion slowly began to lighten from a dark blue-black to a sky blue, and he stopped stirring. Adding the powered snake fangs he stirred the potion counter-clockwise exactly seven times watching as it turned a pastel blue. Satisfied, he lowered the flames so it would simmer, and left the work table. Briefly looking over each of the other cauldrons he nodded to himself, and walked from the room to his office. Sitting down at his desk he pulled out the papers he needed to grade, ink, and a quill. He set himself to work promptly on the stack of parchments. They were papers from his sixth year students. With a scowl he began to read over them, and set about grading them. Three Hufflepuffs, four Ravenclaws, and two Gryffindors papers – all sneered and insult ridden – later, and Severus came across his godson's paper. Pausing, a thoughtful look came over his face.

He was constantly keeping an eye out for Draco, and his well being ever since he had discovered Lucius's abuse of the boy. He had seen the changes the boy slowly went through over the last few years. He saw the subtle changes in Draco's personality and demeanor that showed that he was changing, but Severus Snape didn't think a person could go through such abuse, and not change. He watched as Draco drew into himself little by little, watched as the depression and bitterness began to set in, and watched as he slowly drew away from his family. Hate for his Mother and hate and fear for his Father setting in, and replacing any pride and respect he had had. He saw it all happen even as Draco struggled to keep his mask in place. But he didn't think anyone else really saw the changes that had taken place in Draco Malfoy. Severus had to sit back and watch it all, and he hated the fact that he had to. After having to patch up the blond so many times after a summer spent with his Father, after having to watch his godson as he sunk into depression, and after having to monitor the boy because he almost overdosed to escape his nightmares, Severus Snape was becoming weary, and wary of what else could happen to Draco. The Potions Master knew more than anyone – expect, perhaps, Draco himself – how much Lucius Malfoy broke his son.

Draco used to look up to his Father the way many witches and wizards looked up to Harry Potter, or even Albus Dumbledore. All Draco had ever wanted from Lucius was to know he had made his Father proud. But nothing his godson ever did seem to make Lucius proud. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what lengths of cruelty he tried to achieve Draco was never good enough for Lucius's taste. And Severus hated the man for that. When Lucius had ended up in Azkaban at the end of fifth year – no matter how short term in may end up being – he had been relieved for the break Draco would get. Narcissa may have been cold towards her son, but she had never laid a hand on him. So Severus was relieved for the time being while still in edge for the moment when he would get out of prison.

Staring contemplatively at Draco's paper Severus thought on the newest twist in things. Lately – Severus would guess starting a little after the Christmas break – his godson had seemed happier, more alive. Severus had watched the light that had dulled to almost non-existence slowly come back into stormy grey eyes. He had watched his godson slowly come back to him, and he didn't know the reason for it. He watched Draco, of course, and looked for anything that could be reason enough to liven the blond up.

He had found things that confused him and then made sense if logically looked at, and at the same time found nothing at all. The most obvious, but unbelievable thing would be the things he saw between Draco and Potter. Or the things he didn't see. The tension was easily recognizable even when they had come back for sixth year, and hadn't immediately started in on it. That was the same all up until Christmas break. While the tension didn't dissipate any it lessened, it seemed, and Severus could find no reason for it to. But then they didn't act differently, and he doesn't think Potter could be discreet enough if something had changed between them.

Then there was the little glances he had caught between them, though neither seemed to show much emotion when they did. Neither Draco nor Potter showed any in those glances, and it caused Severus to wonder if he'd thought too much into it, and the incidents. But then the glances were too many to be coincidental, and then they were not as they were no more or less than before. Before Christmas break, before the end of fifth year Severus didn't know, but he knew there was a before.

The Potions Master scowled and quickly checked over Draco's paper – already knowing it would be perfect – and set it aside. He looked down and scowled harder because the next paper was Harry Potter's. Potter frustrated him to no end. The boy was an enigma and constantly too hard to read now, and he didn't like it. Potter Jr. was supposed to be like Potter Sr. was; rash, reckless, and easy to read since he wore his heart on his sleeve. He wasn't supposed to be so unreadable. It didn't fit in with his image of the insufferable Potter men, and he didn't like it because it messed up things with his image of Potter Jr.

Harry Potter was supposed to be exactly like James Potter had been. And he was, but not completely. While he broke rules and was rash and foolhardy he didn't wear his emotions for all to see. Not now anyway and Severus wondered if it was just this year – a new development – or it if had been there all along. He didn't like either answer because they could both mean things he didn't want to acknowledge. Because it would mean he had been wrong about Potter, and that didn't set will with him.

Severus clenched his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, weariness, pain he didn't know which. Harry Potter was one very frustrating puzzle. For example, there was the incident on February first. It could have been easily brushed off as the burst of accidental magic all growing witches and wizards had when emotional or stressed. Even frown witches and wizards tended to have them. But Severus Snape wasn't naïve enough to think that. And Albus's answers, while logical left questions unanswered, and Severus couldn't find much on why the brat's magic seemed forced, strained. There were few theories that seemed wholly impossible as an answer to this mystery, but a magical block seemed out of the question. Every magical person knew to place a block on a growing child's magic could be disastrous to the child. Recorded documents of such acts in history and the consequences were proof enough. And magical blocks were illegal for that sole purpose.

Sighing, Severus went over the parchment quickly, sneering at any right answers. Putting the paper aside he rose from his seat and headed back to his lab. He had potions to look after.

Hermione Granger had always prided herself on knowing the information needed in school, on knowing the pieces needed to solve the puzzles of the dangerous situations Harry always got into, and of knowing her friends. She knew when something was wrong with one of her friends; she knew when they needed help, and when they needed a good cuff round the ear. And Hermione knew there was something wrong with her friend Harry Potter. She had known Harry since first year and over the following years she though she had gotten to known him very well. She knew when he when he was angry, upset, sad, or anxious. She knew when he was in trouble, or in need of held just as well as she knew when he was keeping secrets. And Harry Potter was definitely keeping secrets.

In the beginning of the year he had seemed fine if a bit depressed and subdued. But that was understandable; after all, he had lost his godfather only about four months previously. He had seemed a bit wearier, a bit more subdued, but she couldn't see anything worse wrong with him. He seemed like any other person who was grieving over the death of a loved one. When Hermione had seen this she had decided to hold off talking to Harry about Sirius and to let him be until it looked like she would need to step in. at first it didn't seem like she would need as Harry had seemed to be coping fine. He smiled, and laughed, and seemed to be basically coping with his loss.

And then he started wanting to be along more. Excusing himself from his friends; he would slip off to someplace for hours on end to 'clear his mind', or 'be along' as he always said. That was when Hermione started to worry about her raven haired friends. Though he didn't act much different the constants wish to be alone, and away form his friends had her concerned. She had brought it up to Ron –concerned as she was- to see if there was anything going on with nightmares, or visions. But as far as Ron knew there wasn't, though that meant nothing when one knew silencing charms.

When she had inquired to her boyfriend about talking to Harry, Ron had been adamant that their friend needed space and time, and would come to them if need be. But she hadn't been sure. After Harry had skived off his classes that one day she had decided it was best to step in despite Ron's claims otherwise. She had confronted Harry thinking she could control the situation, get the information on Harry's sudden need for solidarity, and comfort her friend afterwards. But she hadn't been in control, and she hadn't comforted her friend, and she hadn't founded out why he sought solidarity. She'd only accomplished upsetting Harry and causing tension between them all. And her attempt to repair it only made things worse, not only between her and Harry, but between Harry and Ron too.

After that she had thought the things her best friend said and the things he didn't say, and decided to give him his space. She didn't like it, knowing he may be hurting and that she couldn't do anything about it, but she respected his wishes and stopped interfering. Thing began to ease back to normal after that for the three of them. Though still concerned about her friend she kept her worries to herself unless she talked about them with Ron. But then the need to be along increased if only slightly and he began disappearing more often. She'd wondered what could be so heavy on Harry's mind that he would talk to her about, or to Ron. She worried that something was wrong that he wasn't talking about, but yet he seemed so happy, so untroubled most of the time that she was confused on if she was right.

Then the incident on February first happened. She had tried to talk to him about it, but Harry had been so cold that she had given up, frustrated, and confused, and hurt. And then things with Cho started up again. Admittedly, she was wary of the girl at first, but was also happy that Harry may actually stop sulking and take interest in something. While she was happy about his interest in schoolwork increasing she was also even more eager to see him return to his old self. She had had hope that Cho would bring Harry out of his funk. Even though Harry had showed no real excitement or interest she had help out hope that at the very least Cho would distract him from whatever troubled him. She really hated being wrong.

Things with the Ravenclaw had gone so well at first, and then the girl turned out to be a completely evil bint. Hermione hadn't predicted so many things that came later. It was shocking seeing that article that day; not only for the fact was it another article on Harry, but the articles contents as well. She had been surprised to learn of her friend shagging the Ravenclaw; she and Ron hadn't even gone that far yet! But it was even more shocking to hall the pieces sink in. the girl had set it all up. She had seduced her friend only to claim a bit of fame and attention for herself even at the consequence of humiliating Harry. She really hated being wrong.

Harry had vanished after leaving the Great Hall. They hadn't found him the rest of the day, not even a trace of him. Wherever he had gone it had been well and truly hidden from them. Then he showed up to class the next day as if nothing happened! They had walked into potions to find him sitting there calmly as if the day before had never occurred. But she'd been too relived to be angry at her friend at that moment. But the day seemed to be another one full of shock as he cut into Pansy Parkinson. Once recovered though Hermione wanted to know what was going on, and after being avoided all that day she had had enough!

When she and Ron had cornered Harry that night it had only gone slightly better than the last time they had confronted they're friend. To hear him use her words, though, from the previous year had been a shock, and it had made her feel bad for ever saying the words to being with. And then to hear his self-accusations about Sirius's death and the conviction with which they were said hadn't really shocked her as she had thought Harry would blame himself. Yes, she knew Harry had been reckless that night and rash in his stubborn decision to go to the Ministry, but she didn't think it could have been helped. Harry was a person with a big heart and he had – as long as she has known him – tended to let it, and his emotions rule him. It seemed like an instinctively Harry thing to do.

While the conversation hadn't ended the way she would have preferred she got a look into things a bit more. While she wasn't fond of the idea she had reluctantly agreed to give Harry his space, and not dig for information. She just wanted to help her friend, but she could see that she was doing more damage than good. She didn't want to distance him more than he already was. She wished she knew what was causing him to draw away from her and Ron, causing him to distance himself as he was now. She would help if she knew the problem, but she didn't know and Harry had made it abundantly clear that he want they're help.

Sitting in the library Hermione sat staring blankly as the book in her hand, quill held in a lax grip. Shaking her head quickly she tried to dispel her thoughts and focus on her charms work she had come to do, but it was hard. She was constantly thinking about her black haired friend and the distance that seemed to be growing between the three of them. She knew Ron was hurt by Harry's increased secrecy – though he was to 'male' as Hermione always thought exasperatedly – to admit it. Harry had become harder to read, an enigma really, and a puzzled she wasn't sure how to solve. Or even if she wanted to risk solving. Would it solve the problems between them, would it shorten the distance, or make it worse? Harry was unpredictable, even more so now than before.

She sighed. There was just too many 'what if's' to this than she was comfortable with, and she didn't like it. She was one who looked to books for information, but books weren't going to solve this problem. At least she didn't think it would. She sighed again and focused herself intently on her work, pushing thought of her friend and the problems there from her mind. She would work on her schoolwork no and worry about the enigma that is Harry Potter later.

The room was a large, rectangular shape with dark green wall and soft, black carpeting on the floor. It was softly lit by the two silver chandeliers that hung from the ceiling of the room; elegant and beautiful. In three corners of the room large snake statutes dominated in a beautifully sinister fashion, baring fangs as if ready to attack. In the upper left-hand corner a dark wood door was situated, closed. On the right side of the room on the wall a large depiction of the Dark Mark resided, adding to the dark beauty of the room. And in the middle of the room on obsidian five inch dais sat an ornate looking throne of black wood. And on that throne was the most feared wizard to date, Lord Voldemort.

Around him stood several black robed, white masked figures with heads bowed as they stood in the presence of their Master. The room was blanketed in silence as Voldemort observed them. His red eyes watched them all with causal indifference for a moment longer.

"My loyal followers," the high, cold voice sliced through the silence. He scanned the people in the room with narrowed eyes the barked, "Severus, report!"

A robed figure stepped forward smoothly from the circle, kneeled and kissed the hem of the robes that trailed off the dais. Voldemort watched with eyes narrowed and guarded. He wasn't fully convinced yet that the Potions Master was loyal, and he was still highly suspicious.

"My Lord," Severus murmured as he stood, head still bowed. It had taken a lot of smooth talking an d prostrating on his part to even be welcomed – reluctantly – back in, but he was still considered suspicious and knew he had to tread carefully. "Dumbledore's negotiating with some hags over an alliance at the moment as well as some Veelas," Severus said. It was mostly true information as he and Albus had worked out. The hags were already on their side and some Veelas had already agreed to side with the Order.

Voldemort looked at his Death Eater for a long time before he spoke. "And the boy?"

Severus tilted his head to the side slightly before answering. "Still pitifully mourning his pathetic godfather and drowning in self-pity, grief and resentment. His friends have tried to comfort him, but from what I've seen he's pushing them away," he smirked, and it was only a bit forced. Voldemort nodded his head slowly, thoughtfully and smirked.

"Probably believes that by pushing those he cares about away he'll save them from harm," he sneered, red eyes shining maliciously. "Typical Gryffindor behavior, the fool! That's the wonderful thing about Gryffindors," he continued, flicking his eyes around at his gathering. "There's very little one must do to break them emotionally for they do the most damage themselves. Weak fools. Anything else Severus?" he was definitely a bit more pleased with his Death Eater, though still suspicious.

"No, my Lord," Severus murmured, bowing his head again. Voldemort scowled down at him. He caressed his wand before pointing it at the man.

"Crucio!" The scream rents the air of the room, sharp and shrill, and Voldemort smirks at the twisting, writhing figure. Finally he lifts the curse leaving the man panting and shaking and sweating on the floor. "You are close to Dumbledore Severus working in that school, I want more information!"

"Y-yes m-my L-lord," Severus said shakily, rising as steadily as possible from the floor.

"Very well," Voldemort said with a hard stare of crimson eyes. "Keep an eye on Potter and Dumbledore, and gather information for me Severus." His voice held demands in it as well as an undertone of a threat. It was also dismissive. Severus bowed again before turning and heading toward the door as steadily as possible. He knew he was in a precarious position with the Dark Lord and had to tread extremely carefully. That dismiss was of the meeting for HIM and not for his turn to give information. He only hoped nothing of importance is said.

Voldemort watched the Potions Master go with narrowed crimson eyes. It was best to keep the man at arms length for now until he was sure about his loyalties. Turning back to his followers he cast an eye over them imperiously. "Fenrir how're we doing with recruiting more werewolves?" A man with stepped forward and executed the normal formalities like Severus had before standing again.

"Besides the three reaming from my old pack I've come across another of about nine or ten who are still under ah, negotiations. Besides them I've been able to recruit four others who shall be here for the next meeting," Fenrir Greyback said. Voldemort nodded his head slightly, very much satisfied with the results. Seven werewolves already willing and a pack of possibly ten who are considering an alliance; Voldemort was very much pleased with the budding outcome.

"Good. You keep with negotiations and I don't care how you do it just get them on out side." Fenrir nodded before stepping back. "Bryant, how is your assignment coming along?" he continued easily, watching as a tall, broad shouldered young man stepped forward. After formalities Bryant stood back and bowed his head in respect.

"Excellent my Lord," Bryant Macnair stated with a muted self-satisfaction. "We should be able to begin weaving the ward curses into wards within the next two months at the most after a trial test period. Two of the curses are ready to be used now though; tested and perfected." Voldemort looked down on the young man with a small hint of satisfaction in his red eyes. The young man was – roughly – no more than ten months out of school and was already showing great promise among his followers. He was an expert spell creator, especially of curses, and he had asked the young man to create a few curses to weave into wards and to use in battle. And Bryant Macnair was succeeding in both wonderfully.

"Splendid young Macnair," he said, and his words were a little more serpentine than before. "Keep me updated on your progress." Bryant nodded with a small pleased smile on his face as he stepped back. "Narcissa," his serpentine drawl and red eyes went to said woman. "I do hope your assignment has reaped better results than your husband's did when I had given him his task." His voice was less warm than it had been with Macnair Jr. – if it could ever be called warm – as he was still quite upset with Lucius's failure.

"I assure you my Lord that I do not hold Lucius's incompetence. I have succeeded in my mission and you now have two powerful and individually gifted Sinclairs' on your side," Narcissa said smoothly.

Voldemort's eyes widened fractionally and if he had possessed eyebrows they would have been lifted. Truth be told he hadn't expected the Lady Malfoy to succeed. Not because he didn't want her too, but more because he knew the reputation of the Sinclair family. While they were open to many things and held little prejudices for a pureblood family, they weren't necessarily 'open' to his ideas. But they held power, power that he had wished to have in his ranks of Death Eaters. When he had set the task to Narcissa he had expected one of two outcomes. Either she would fail, or she would succeed gaining him one ally from the family. The fact that she had succeeded and gotten him two allies was a pleasant surprise.

"Go on, tell me about the two you've recruited," Voldemort demanded.

"Yes my Lord. They are brother and sister, and during my stay in France with them I learned that they are from the current Lord Sinclair's uncle's side of the family. When I was feeling them out to find potential allies for you these two approached me. They commented about knowing my husband's allegiance and stated their wish to join. The youngest – Audrey Sinclair – is powerful magically as well as being a gifted seer. Plus she is very skilled in all forms of divination and astral projection. I had her give me proof first, of course, but she proved true. The oldest – Nicholas Sinclair – is also powerful magically as well as being gifted with the ability to manipulate shadows," Narcissa explained.

Voldemort felt pleased about this information as he thought it over. He would have to judge the girl's abilities himself, of course, but if she really possessed such exceptional skills then she would be useful. And the young man possessing the ability to manipulate shadows would also be useful to him. "Excellent Narcissa," Voldemort's serpentine drawl filled the room after a moment. "I believe you are well on your way to making up for Lucius's failure. Contact them for a meeting with me." Narcissa gave a smooth nod of her head before rejoining the sea of black.

"Annabelle what news do you bring from the Ministry?"

"Well my Lord," Annabelle said after the formalities were completed. "The Ministry has come to the final decision and has almost completed preparations in regards to distributing a cadre of Aurors and Hit Wizards for protecting major magical villages. They were trying to make sure they had enough of each distributed for protection – on a semi-permanent basis – to villages and for their actual jobs as designated by the Ministry. Fudge is trying to repair the damage he's done to himself," she chuckled throatily at the thought.

"Well he does have to make up for the fact that he was informed of my return and ignored it. The fool," Voldemort chuckled also as sounds of agreement were made around the room.

"There isn't much else going on. Fudge is once again relying – reluctantly, I'd say – on Dumbledore's advice and wisdom," she said sarcastically. "There working on protecting magical villages at the moment and little else."

"Incompetent fools Fudge and Dumbledore, and many ministry workers are. But their mistakes and short-comings are to our advantage. Keep me up on the Ministries goings on Annabelle." She nodded before stepping back. He went through and questioned more of his followers dishing out punishments when he was displeased. Finally he looked around, red eyes glinting in the candle light. "Now on to other matters. With the increase in followers to our cause we are now ready. Within a month's time we will lay siege to Azkaban and free my captured followers!"

The echoing cackle in the room, high and cold, followed the declaration. It was time for his followers to be released, and for his right hand to rejoin him at his side.