Chapter Twenty
"Did you enjoy the heartfelt discussion with your father?" Riddle questioned; a mocking smirk to his mouth.
Izar threw the politician a look as he walked down the corridor. The man was standing casually outside the library, waiting for Izar to approach him. The majority of the students were at Hogsmeade, leaving the castle an eerie calm. "I think you could use a heartfelt conversation, Mr. Riddle. You may not be as snarky."
"I rely on being snarky," Riddle smirked, his arm stretching toward Izar as he came closer. The cold hand placed itself on Izar's shoulder, a claiming sort of gesture. "I understand you have just been handed a great deal of information involving your parents' past. But I hope you are stable and sharp enough to converse with me. We have many things we need to discuss. Some topics can be heavy and I want your full attention."
Izar was becoming wary at the all but cryptic warnings. With Riddle's hand on his back, he was being led past the library and toward the entrance of the school.
"Do I have your full attention, Izar? Or should I continue this discussion at a later date?" Riddle raised his eyebrows in question.
Izar mentally scoffed. Like hell he'd put off this conversation. He had his suspicions of what they would discuss and it would help him get answers to some of the heavy questions he was carrying around.
"I'm sharp," Izar responded quietly. Their footsteps were in sync as they walked toward the Hogwarts' grounds.
"Good," Riddle took his hand off Izar's back, pausing before pulling his wand out. Izar controlled himself from tensing. After all, he already knew Voldemort wouldn't do anything drastic inside Hogwarts. With a quick flick of his wand, Izar's torn and ratty shirt was transfigured into a thick cloak. "We're going outside for this discussion. Come."
Again, the man commanded his obedience as they swept from the grand entrance way, out into the brisk afternoon. Izar's brows furrowed at the sudden brightness of October's sun. It took him a long while to get his eyes adjusted from his long stay down in the dungeons. As soon as he was able to look up without squinting, his side was taken once again by the dominant hand of politician Riddle.
Izar stiffened.
He was getting particularly good at not flinching from contact. His childhood didn't consist of any positive caresses or touches but Izar prided himself for withstanding physical contact recently. With Regulus, the man seemed to favor hugging Izar and kissing his forehead in greeting. With Daphne, the girl always touched his arm and made him escort her around the castle at times. Even Draco touched him on occasion.
But all of their touches were… normal. With Riddle, Izar felt his heart skip a beat at every bit of contact. And he was always so conscious of Riddle's touches, it was utterly ridiculous. Was he really this starved for the Dark Lord's attention? Was he like a dog waiting hungrily for his master's approving touch?
Izar liked to think he wasn't, but for some reason, he was just hypersensitive to the man. Perhaps it was his magic?
"How is the portkey coming along?" Riddle started off airily.
"Decent," Izar replied uneasily. "I'm almost finished with it. I just need to test it out myself to see if it works correctly."
"Already?" Riddle raised his eyebrows in praise. "Very well done, my child."
Izar looked away, hiding the pleased flush to his cheeks. "It wasn't very difficult, My Lord. I—,"
"You can take a compliment, Izar, can you not?" The Dark Lord intoned lightly as he led Izar further down the grounds of Hogwarts. It was a part of the castle where not many students visited. They had to loop around a few towers, escaping the students' route as some trudged back from Hogsmeade.
"Thank you," Izar spoke confidently, not at all meekly like he had before.
Silence washed between them as they made their way toward a small pond. It was more of a marsh then anything and Izar's worn Muggle sneakers were soaked as he ventured close to the marsh's shore. Each step was a strong suction as both the water and ground sucked his foot deep before spitting it back out as he moved forward. The grass was flattened near the flooded marsh, appearing like green noodles in a brown broth. It smelt distinctly like water lilies and mud, not very pleasant and not exactly revolting either.
Otherwise, the marsh was a fragment of beauty in simpler terms. The grass that hadn't been bowed over with the weight of water stood abnormally tall around the perimeter of the marsh, shielding the two wizards as they crept closer. There were weeds inside the marsh itself, raging in different colors from crimson red to simple beige. A few lily pads sat clumped together. And while most of them were just a mossy green, some were gifted with hosting a vibrant purple flower on top.
And some lily pads were cursed with carrying a damned toad. Izar eyed them distastefully as their black beady eyes turned to him, croaking unpleasantly.
Riddle's hand led him closer to the marsh, through a tall curtain of grasses. Izar thought the man would lead him into the middle of the marsh, judging from the water now reaching above his ankles, but as Riddle pulled back the weeds, Izar spotted a garden of boulders. It was a bed of large rocks, sitting close to the middle of the marsh. It was disclosed from prying eyes and Izar felt both uncertain and thrilled to be somewhere so private with such a powerful and dangerous man.
The hand slipped from his side, leaving him standing rigidly.
"I used to come here when I was a schoolboy," Riddle declared as he skillfully stepped over a floating lily pad and gracefully sat upon a boulder. He played off a picture of elegance as he patted the stone next to him, inviting Izar to sit. "At night, when the other students went to bed, I would escape out here when I grew too agitated. Much like you, I despised the children here. I was an old soul, perhaps not as old as you, yourself, but I could barely stand their presence at times."
Izar hesitated, his feet still sunk inside the marsh next to the boulders. He had never seen Riddle…relaxed. It was foreign to him and he drank up the sight as much as he could without being too obvious. But even if the man appeared relaxed and serene, there was still that air about him that warned many people this man was not safe.
Riddle's lips curled upward and he turned to look at Izar. "Do you not feel comfortable enough to sit next to me? Or do you enjoy the feel of water seeping into your shoes?"
Izar blinked and calmly sat down next to the man. Unhappily, he eyed the damage done to his shoes. They weren't the picture of perfection before, but now, mud caked the outside and his socks were soaked.
The man tisked, waving his wand over Izar's shoes. "Are you not a wizard, Mr. Harrison?"
Instantly, his shoes dried, looking newer than ever before. "I don't specialize in cleaning charms, actually," Izar responded, a bit sheepishly. "I was never interested in reading about them."
Silence descended again. Izar stared at the calm marsh. It was actually quite peaceful when he got past the croaking toads.
"No doubt you are wondering why I brought you here." Izar remained quiet, not inclined to interrupt when it wasn't necessary. "You have stumbled across several mysteries, riddles, and puzzles regarding me, and you." Charmed brown eyes turned to Izar. "You have all the clues in your hand, Izar. I'm certain, if you piece them together, you can figure out the answers to many of your most pressing questions."
Izar looked down at his ring and then up at the Dark Lord with uncertainty.
With a stern expression, Voldemort's lips thinned. "Don't you think— if I hadn't wanted you to find out my secrets, that I would have given you so many hints?"
Izar shook his head shortly before turning away from the Dark Lord's overbearing presence. Why was he frightened of finding out the secrets to the Dark Lord? He had expressed so much curiosity…
"I think," Riddle started again. "That you're subconsciously trying to avoid figuring it out because your mind already knows what it's about. You're just afraid to admit it."
"I just don't understand why you're allowing me to figure out your secrets. You're the Dark Lord, I'm the Death Eater. Is it not proper to keep my nose out of your business? Should you not be happy I'm not snooping?"
Riddle chuckled. "My business is your business, Izar. Especially when it relates to this."
Izar frowned at that. His stomach was twisting unpleasantly. "To what, exactly?"
The Dark Lord sighed, irritated. "I want you to think on your questions concerning me. You have all the dots, Izar, connect them." The man hissed out. "I brought you here because I want you in my presence when you figure it out. Surely, if you were alone, you'd come to the wrong conclusion about my motives."
Izar frowned again, turning his body away from the man slightly as he stared unseeingly at the small marsh.
"No," Voldemort ridiculed. "Think out loud. I enjoy seeing how your mind works."
Unsettled with the eyes on the back of his head, Izar slowly began. "I…" he looked into the water, willingly his frozen mind to think. "Er…"
"Eloquent," Riddle scolded.
"You make me unsettled, I can't think when you're bloody hovering," Izar remarked dryly.
"Good," Riddle's hands touched the back of his neck, igniting the usual spark between them. Izar's jaw clenched. The man leaned over and whispered into his ear. "You're getting closer."
"Your hands," Izar began suddenly as his mind began to race. It was becoming easier to think when he got over the initial uncertainty of Riddle hovering so closely. The man was just excited, as he always was when he played with Izar. "Whenever we touch, there is a spark of some sort, like magic passing between us, I think." He paused. "That's a question I have, or, have had for a long while now. Just like why you're immortal. How are you immortal?"
He waited for the man to respond. The fingers had dropped from his neck a while ago.
Izar turned to look at Riddle over his shoulder. The man just smiled thinly, a stubborn glint to his eye. Right. The man wouldn't answer Izar. He wanted him to think it through himself. "I can't and will never believe you have seven Horcruxes," Izar started quietly, as if there were others overhearing. "But… there is the possibility you could have one and that Regulus really was on the right path to destroy you. But, that couldn't be. You would have hunted him down and killed him otherwise."
Izar's eyes stared at the murky water near the boulders, wondering. Whenever he began thinking, his mind was lost in its own world and nothing could distract him until he found his answer.
"The ring, Izar." Riddle's voice floated through his mind. "What is the purpose of my ring?"
"Mentor and heir," Izar whispered. "You want to declare me as your heir."
Silence.
Until a pleased and alien laugh sounded from Riddle. "You amuse me, child. So wise and old for your age, yet you are so innocent and naive. It's a pity my touch will all but tarnish and taint you horribly. That will be oddly pleasing to me." With the feeling of unsettlement rising, Izar looked up at Riddle. The man was smirking gleefully. "While I intend to use the ring as a political sign that you are my heir, yes, that is not my entire purpose for the ring."
Izar's ears grew warm and he knew Voldemort noticed. He shifted away from the Dark Lord, his pulse quickening.
"Child," it was a horrible word that came from Voldemort's lips.
"Don't call me that." Izar spat. "If you think I'm nothing but a child, why would you want my virginity?"
"It's an endearment," Voldemort replied as if it were rather common sense. "Unless you prefer 'pet'?" Izar lifted his lip, actually snarling at the man. "I take that as a 'no'," the man continued. "I would have to agree. It's rather tactless and disquieting."
"Why?" Izar demanded again. "Why would you want to secure my…" Izar sighed, his stomach in tight coils. He didn't understand the odd pleasing sensation that was just as strong as the disgust he was feeling.
"Why indeed," Riddle sang softly. "Continue on with your mindless ramblings, it may answer your questions."
"Why? Because you want to torment me. You find a sick pleasure to make me submit to you."
Riddle's face shadowed darkly and Izar found his throat closing in fear of the man.
"I find that observation rather sick, Mr. Harrison. While I desire your virginity, my goal in life is not to violate a boy who is merely fifteen." Riddle flashed his teeth at Izar. "That is the whole purpose of the rings. I want to keep your virginity, pure, and untouched until later. Until both you and I are ready to commit to that next stage in our relationship." The man mocked the word as if it were silly. "I have no plans to sleep with you when you are all but fifteen."
Izar felt rather foolish for accusing the man of being a pedophile. While it was a shock that the man wanted him for sexual purposes, there had to be a reason. The Dark Lord was the classification of grace and intelligence. He wouldn't stoop so low to vie for a fifteen-year-old wizard's virginity. It had to be for a good reason.
And then it all made sense…
Izar's eyes widened briefly, before he looked up at the Dark Lord.
"Why would someone secure virginity?" Izar didn't wait for the man to respond, his words coming together quick. "Because they are a magical creature, securing their… mates purity." Izar was faint, but he continued. "It makes sense. You're pupils… the Dark Arts do not manipulate the pupil into slits like yours. Some creatures in the magical world have split pupils. And when we touch physically, the spark is a sign of equal souls. It makes sense. You're immortal because of your status as a creature, not because of the Horcruxes. You don't want anyone to find out because it will give away your weaknesses to your enemies. You'd rather them believe you have Horcruxes."
Izar sat there, his mind reeling. "That's why you were so interested in me at the Ministry ball last summer, because you knew then, that I was your mate. And it's why you hid yourself back at your father's home. You couldn't use magic to disguise yourself from me, or creature-persona, so you hid in the shadows instead."
He remembered at his Death Eater initiation when Voldemort's fingernail had nicked his skin. The man then continued to lick the blood.
"You're a vampire, one of the only immortal creatures out there…"
Riddle tapped Izar's chin, bringing his gaze back onto the man. "You're partly right," Riddle conceded. "I am a 'magical creature', yes, but I'm not a vampire. I'm something a bit more superior to the vampire I hope."
Izar reluctantly agreed.
Vampires were known for their immortality but also for their lack of self control around humans. Voldemort was far too in control of himself. The man was the definition of patience. And when he was angry, he was controlled even then. Essentially, Voldemort didn't even come across as a creature. The man was too skilled in humanity and control that the mere thought of the Dark Lord as a creature was slightly laughable.
Whatever the man was, Izar was afraid to find out.
"Then what are you?" Izar's question came out faint. He tried not to think about what this meant for him. Him, being a mate to the Dark Lord. It was…
"That is one riddle you will not solve today, Izar. Or in your books. I'm afraid my kind is not found in any textbook." The man paused, his eyes piercing straight through Izar's core. "You're angry with me, I know."
Izar attempted to turn, but the hand on his chin stopped him. He was angry, he was furious and lost… uncertain and also a bit pleased. It was a mess and he didn't know what, exactly, to think about these circumstances. The ring on his finger felt hot and possessive. He felt like a mere possession to the Dark Lord. It had been pleasing to be in the Dark Lord's favor, but now, how much of it was because he was the man's mate?
"You're a very independent being, Izar," Riddle's voice was oddly consoling. "By no means do I intend to take that away."
"I'm bound to you," Izar whispered passionately. "How can you not think you take away my independence when it's already lost and rightfully claimed by you?"
The man looked pleased with himself at the comment, but sobered promptly. "Just because I may have your virginity, does not mean I have your spirit. Can you now understand why I wanted you in my presence when you found this out? Look at you, going off the deep end." He tisked. "This will change nothing." The man reassured, his hands still a controlling factor on Izar's face. "Don't think I'm any less intrigued by you because you are my mate. You're a very gifted wizard and I can truthfully admit that I'm pleased Fate has set me up with such a superior wizard. You surpass my expectations"
Izar stared at the man before him. He hated that the Dark Lord was so understanding at this time. Why couldn't the man be his snarky self and make Izar's hate for him grow?
"The ring on your finger is meant as a security of your virginity, yes, but it's also to protect the both of us. It is very important you keep this revelation silent, Izar. You are the only one who knows of my status as magical creature and it will stay that way; for both your safety and mine. Our romantic relationship is also to be kept behind the scenes. If anyone were to question the time we spend together, we use the Celtic bands as answer."
Voldemort's spidery fingers caressed Izar's middle finger were the ring sat. "To the public, you are my heir. In private, you are my mate." The man issued a pause before his voice turned cold. "I hesitated at using the Celtic bands at all. Even if you are my heir, there will still be a target on you. But it is needed as an explanation if there are too many questions involving our time spent together. I'd rather word get out that you are my heir and not my mate. Until the time is right, keep the ring hidden."
The man's fingers tightened on Izar's hand, his brown eyes intense. "There was also the option of never telling you. I could have kept you as a low ranking Death Eater and never paid you any heed. Only then, no one would be the wisest." A predatory smile crossed his lips. "But I find myself too selfish and possessive to pass that off."
Izar scoffed, his neck allowing his head to bow. "I hate you…" the boy murmured brokenly. But he had listened to the man's warnings and explanations. He now understood the meaning behind the Celtic bands. It was to secure their public appearances. As Voldemort stated already, the public would see them as mentor and heir.
Magical creatures were rather possessive of their mates. And a death of a mate was devastating. It would be best, for both their sakes, to keep their status of mates secret. Even from Regulus.
The Dark Lord chuckled darkly, taking Izar by the cheeks once again. "I don't believe you," the man all but sang smugly. "It's the thought of answering to someone, to being bound, is what you hate. Do you not believe I feel the same?"
He never thought of that. Izar was sure Voldemort saw him as a vulnerability. The man was just as independent as Izar was, if not more, surely he couldn't like answering to a fifteen-year-old. Izar smirked at that.
This bond was two ways.
Riddle's eyes traced his smirk, answering it with one of his own. "As I have stated before, this will change nothing, at least not now. You need time to think of all this before I pursue you sexually." Izar paled and the Dark Lord chuckled breathlessly. The Ravenclaw knew Voldemort found pleasure in torturing Izar like that. "You are able to act indifferently about this when we leave here, yes? Or should I obliviate you?"
Izar narrowed his eyes, insulted. "You know as well as I that I won't become a blushing maiden, batting my eyelashes at you in bloody public." Izar paused; pleased he was able to act indifferent. Inside, though, he was trembling. "I can't say that I'd do that in private, either."
Riddle leaned closer, his eyes sparkling crazily. Izar stopped breathing. Surely the man wouldn't kiss him? However, he found himself unable to stop his body from moving closer to the man, only, the Dark Lord pulled back, smug. "I thought so," the man murmured to himself, as if confirming a silent theory.
Voldemort stood up, his fingers caressing Izar's cheek before dropping to his side.
Izar stayed frozen in distress.
"The ring has other added positives," Riddle purred, towering over Izar. "Dumbledore, for example, wouldn't be able to enter your mind and see this information. You also won't be able to speak of it to anyone, with the exception of me. You'll find your tongue tied painfully if you try to do so."
Charcoal-green eyes watched the man's face clear impassively before he began to make his way out the marsh. "You're leaving?" Izar asked before he could stop himself.
The man turned to look at Izar over his shoulder. "Was there something else you'd like to say, child?"
Izar spluttered, offended. But then he understood what Riddle was trying to do. This…this information… it didn't change anything between them. Not in public, anyway. Turning his eyes back on the Dark Lord, Izar shook his head. He was taken aback when the man's eyes swept agonizingly slow over the length of Izar's body before turning away again.
Sitting on the boulder, Izar brought his legs up to his chest, curling his arms around them for added comfort. Placing his chin on the top of his knees, he listened as the Dark Lord made his way out of the marsh.
He needed time alone to think this over before going back to the school.
The first thing he felt was resentment over the whole issue. It was just as Riddle said, he was independent. With Regulus today, Izar had acknowledge the fact that he could let someone in and still be independent, he could still be the same person even if he acknowledged Regulus as his father. What was saying that he couldn't do the same with Lord Voldemort?
His logic over the situation kicked in when he realized that Voldemort was just as affected as himself. Obviously, the Dark Lord would find it difficult to be with someone romantically. Izar knew the man found it worthless to show emotion. But Izar was also thankful that the man was lenient today. Riddle could have been cold and dominating as he explained his ownership over Izar today. Yet, the Undersecretary had done the opposite. He showed he had humanity beneath that manipulating façade. The man had understood what Izar was feeling and tried to explain the wrongs of his thinking.
It was almost hard to believe that the man was so perceptive and understanding.
Izar would have liked to believe this was all a hoax. That it was some sort of manipulation the man was scheming up. But Izar was smart enough to realize the signs. Everything connected. It all made sense.
And then he also considered another strong emotion that accompanied this situation.
Lust.
His face burned as hot as his stomach as he acknowledged the sensation. He wouldn't admit to anyone that he found the thought of the Dark Lord touching him thrilling. Even simple touches aroused a deep sensation inside Izar. The tension between them was always so strong. But Izar was also logical enough to realize he wasn't ready for the man's physical advances. Not yet. But perhaps soon, when he was more comfortable with himself and his sexuality. And when he wasn't bloody frightened over the thought of it.
Although, the most comforting thing about this mess was that things would be the same.
Voldemort was a bloody Dark Lord. He wasn't a lover and he wasn't a sappy gentleman who whispered sweet poetic lines in his ear. Izar shivered in disgust at the mere imagery. Izar and Voldemort were both males. They were both Dark and a bit cynical, cunning, and sarcastic. Truthfully, they were also quite right bastards toward one another and to others. Fate couldn't have fit two souls so right for each other anymore then she already had.
There would still be underhanded manipulations on each other's part. Voldemort enjoyed dancing with Izar too much and Izar the same.
It would be exactly the same; only, they would share a much deeper connection with one another that no one would be able to come close to.
Was it wrong of Izar to be smug about being close to the Dark Lord? A sort of closeness that none of the other Death Eaters could even imagine? Granted, Izar knew he would have to prove himself more to the Dark Lord in order to be taken seriously. But there was just something pleasing to be the Dark Lord's only.
Magical creatures mated for life. Infidelity was unheard of, especially on the creature's behalf.
"Your mind is going in the opposite direction it should be, Izar," he scolded himself, grimacing. This situation should have affected him more than it did. Instead, he was seeing bloody positives to this situation. It shouldn't matter what Izar was to the Dark Lord. It shouldn't matter that he was more important than the Death Eaters. What mattered was that he was the Dark Lord's mate. And in turn, he could get away with things a lot easier.
Such as manipulating the Dark Mark.
Izar brushed his jaw along the tops of his knees, smirking subconsciously at the croaking toad without really seeing it.
As the time increased with him sitting in silence, he became unsettled.
His smirk trembled before it fell into a profound frown. The after-affects of basking in Riddle's overpowering proximity were gradually leaving him the longer Riddle was gone from the boulder next to him. Izar's thrill was always at its strongest when Riddle was close by. Now though, the positives of the situation tarnished and he was washed with the strongest emotion he felt over the information uncovered.
Uncertainty.
{Notes} I was so… uptight about this chapter. I still am. I debated on revealing this information so soon. But then again, it's chapter twenty. I think you all deserved a little revelation to some of the mysteries. I'm also not a huge fan of creature!Voldemort, but I hope I can make him as believable as possible. I couldn't see this Voldemort, my Voldemort, pursue a fifteen-year-old without a good reason.
