I don't like writing lemons. I like the chase instead. However, it was due time for one… so the deleted scene will be on my profile (hopefully it's up by now and the journal is under the name Dark Cyan Star so don't be confused). I'm not sure if there will be another sex-scene after this, lemons, yes, though I'm not sure about full lemons… but we'll see. I picture Izar to be more asexual than anything.
Thanks for the reviews!
Chapter Twenty Six
"You can't force me to do this," Izar snarled as he stared at the box sitting innocently on the steel table.
After dealing with the controlling hand pulling him out of Knockturn Alley, Izar was then returned to the Malfoy Manor. His first hope was to speak to Daphne and Draco—to soothe things over as best as he could and warn the blond from continuing on the Vanishing Cabinet. Those plans had shriveled when Voldemort had tugged him harshly through the corridors of the manor, leading him into this… lab.
A very impressive lab, mind. The unused cauldrons were set neatly in the corner of the room and in front of a glass cabinet of potion ingredients even Snape would go cross-eyed at. All that remained sitting on the sterile steel table was a box of objects Izar knew to be Voldemort's fake Horcruxes.
The Dark Lord intended for Izar to create another Horcrux, perhaps two, and remain weak and defenseless at his hands. It was essentially a well-thought of punishment. Izar despised being dependent, especially on Voldemort. It had been unbearable for Izar after the Triwizard attack when Voldemort had nursed him back to health. He had experienced the same helplessness when he had been turned immortal after Cygnus' mental possession.
Voldemort knew Izar's attitude toward being defenseless, hence his choice of punishment. Izar had nothing against creating the Horcruxes, but he didn't want to create them as a punishment or under duress. He didn't want to be forced to complete them. It should be his own decision when to make them and how many to make at a time.
Despite his curiosity to see what Voldemort chose for his Horcruxes, Izar remained stubbornly away from the box. Behind him, Voldemort slammed the heavy-set door shut, wards and locking charms insuring against an unwanted entrance.
The Black heir stood stiffly as he listened to Voldemort's leather shoes. They circled him with a predator's grace, slow and calculating, but also with a hint of wicked pleasure.
"Oh, but I can force you, child."
The voice raised the hairs on the back of Izar's neck, yet the younger refused to show an ounce of unease.
"Your jaunt throughout the streets of Diagon and Knockturn Alley did not only go against my orders, but it also caused my Death Eaters unnecessary disturbance. It is not their job to babysit you while you continue to—"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Izar brushed off the man's words carelessly. "You ordered me not to go to Knockturn Alley with Draco and Daphne. And I kept to your order. I did not accompany them. I didn't even plan on going to Knockturn until I realized I had extra time on my hands."
He smugly eyed the tall figure as it came to a stop in front of him. Voldemort did not look amused but he didn't appear furious like Izar suspected he would. When the Dark Lord hauled him out of Knockturn, the hand had been unbearably painful. Izar could still feel the soreness on his arm, as if the hand had yet to leave him. Regardless of his creature status, Izar knew the only one who could leave a mark on his body for a prolonged period of time was Voldemort.
Voldemort continued to stare at him, causing Izar slight unsettlement.
"You look utterly ridiculous," Voldemort finally spoke, sneering deeply.
Izar offered the man an insulted look. "I could say that about you all the time, but my respect for you holds my tongue."
The dark shadows across Voldemort's face seemed to lighten with delight. "And yet, you have no respect for me, child," Spider-like fingers reached out and flung the heavy-set glasses off Izar's face. They landed in pieces a few feet away from them.
Izar refused to look at the fallen glasses, his eyes absorbing Voldemort's stare. There was something oddly thrilling about being this physically close to the Dark Lord, Izar thought as the man bent at the waist. The sexual tension that had been present ever since their first meeting reared its head, drawing the two wizards closer together but neither of them making the first move. Basking in the tension always made Izar feel both powerful and vulnerable.
Voldemort leaned forward, placing his forehead against Izar's. The younger blinked, startled at the gentle gesture, before he gazed up at the man. Izar felt uncertain, lost, eager, and curious about what was likely to come… and he knew he was channeling those emotions through his eyes. Even if he was skilled in hiding his feelings, Voldemort knew him too well to turn a blind eye to it.
Suddenly, Voldemort's powerful aura coiled around Izar, suffocating him with the raw power before brusquely ripping apart the Black heir's glamours. His charmed red hair bled black, revealing the loose and silky curls around his face. His rounded ears suddenly became pointed and his eyes felt immensely refreshed as the split-pupils sighed in relief from their constraints.
Izar gave a moan in approval as Voldemort took hold of his face and kissed him deeply. There was nothing reassuring in the kiss, there was just mere dominance.
There were countless of things Izar could analyze about the current situation. For one thing, Voldemort had most likely come to terms with his slip of god-like behavior during Yuletide and accepted their relationship. This could also be Voldemort's way of reestablishing his stance of dominance in their relationship. Not only had Voldemort slipped last night, but Izar had gotten one over on him tonight when he escaped the manor.
And yet, forcing Izar to create the fake Horcruxes would be an even larger reassurance to Voldemort that he held the control in their relationship. So why was Voldemort taking advantage sexually?
Izar narrowed his eyes, curling his fingers around the Dark Lord's shoulders before pushing the man away. His sudden suspicion in the turn of events made him ponder if there was something deeper behind Voldemort's actions. "What are you hiding from me?"
The Dark Lord's red eyes remained fixed on Izar's swollen lips. "Just as much as you are hiding from me, love." Voldemort's lips twisted unattractively into a grimace as he grasped Izar's line of thinking. "But don't make the mistake that my current advances are being controlled by anything but my desire. Tonight, there is just us."
Before Izar had a chance to ponder and analyze the words, Voldemort lunged forward, dousing Izar's natural Ravenclaw tendencies. Fingers curled sharply in his hair as Izar was pressed crudely against the wall. He met the lips with equal vigor, smirking into the wet kiss with glee. His hand danced up to stroke the man's strong jaw but Voldemort slapped his hands away domineeringly.
Ah.
So the man wanted to play the submissive and dominant game.
Izar supposed he could humor the man. After all, he had gained a considerable amount of confidence this year. Voldemort's physical advances didn't come by very often, as if the man knew Izar was never really ready to try anything. But tonight, Izar had no qualms and no hesitations. Entering into this step in their relationship with the Dark Lord was darkly erotic.
Pushing past the binding hold, Izar wrapped his arms fully around Voldemort, his fingers embedding into the back of the man's robes. Just as the Dark Lord had done seconds ago, Izar unraveled the man's glamour and dropped all masks between them. The tongue pressing firmly against his closed lips soon became forked and Izar rolled his eyes upward at the mere sensation. Just this once, he bent to the man's strong will and opened his mouth. He claimed it was just out of curiosity and not submission.
Voldemort eagerly devoured, his snake-like tongue entering Izar's mouth, pitilessly claiming every inch he could reach with that… delectable tongue of his.
Izar offered another moan as their fangs clashed and locked together briefly. Voldemort's hand danced across Izar's cheekbones before dropping and curling around his neck. With a sharp thrust to his neck, Voldemort pressed Izar more firmly against the wall and tilted his head in an angle that would allow him more possession of Izar's mouth.
Not needing to breathe was incredibly useful at times…
Now that Izar was satisfied with experiencing the sensation of Voldemort's forked-tongue, he pushed his own tongue forward. However, as soon as his tongue ventured into the Dark Lord's mouth, the man's sharp fang caught him, drawing blood.
The younger wizard reared backward, breaking the kiss and wincing slightly. He scowled at the arrogant glow surrounding Voldemort as the man traced his own lips, watching Izar closely. "Is something the matter?" he mused innocently.
Izar blew the hair out of his eyes, pushing off from the wall and inching closer to Voldemort. Before the Dark Lord could push away his advances, Izar placed his palms on either side of the man's face and tugged him downward. Bypassing the inviting lips, Izar claimed Voldemort's neck instead. He sucked on the tender skin, standing on his toes and arching his back into Voldemort in order to gain more height. Surprisingly, the man kept still, acting as a solid pillar for Izar's advance.
Which only meant the man was enjoying it.
Pressing the hollow crevice with his lips, Izar lapped the salty skin of the tall wizard. Voldemort's aroma consumed Izar, tickling his senses. The Dark Lord smelt of power, intense power that made Izar's cock twitch. And then there was the masculinity…
With the scents came the sudden realization that Izar had the Dark Lord as his own. This man was unobtainable to everyone but him. The thought drove him to sink his fangs into the man's neck possessively. Voldemort went stiff, his arousal suddenly becoming thicker, more obvious against Izar's lower belly.
As if to hide his excitement over Izar's claim, Voldemort hissed and knotted Izar's hair in a tight fist. The Dark Lord spun Izar away from his neck, but not before the younger had a good taste of Voldemort's delectable blood.
The Black heir backed away, licking his lips innocently. The sight of Voldemort dangerously pursing his retreat made everything so much more thrilling. There was a smoldering flame in those crimson eyes, almost a frightening greedy hunger that vowed an equal amount of pain and pleasure. Izar offered a grin to cover his excited unease, tugging at his sweater and pulling it over his head.
"There is a much easier way to do that, child," Voldemort tsked, flicking his finger and stripping Izar wordlessly.
Izar found himself suddenly standing before the Dark Lord, nude. He had never been ashamed of his body and it assisted him tonight by standing his ground as Voldemort loomed. "And your own clothes?" Izar inquired harmlessly. He wouldn't make it a command, or Voldemort would think Izar was uncomfortable and the Dark Lord would play with that to his advantage.
"Someone is rather impatient tonight," Voldemort murmured but stripped a moment later.
{Deleted Lemon- On my profile}
"You look absolutely delectable," Voldemort murmured huskily. He stroked Izar's hair, grinning smugly. "So owned."
Izar pressed his lips together, allowing the comment to slide only because the Dark Lord had yet to see his back. If Voldemort looked over his shoulder, he would see multiple scratches that would likely leave a mark for quite a while. Compared to Izar, the Dark Lord looked far more owned than himself. Though, Izar wouldn't press his luck, so he remained silent on the subject.
{Death of Today}
The weight was mildly annoying, so it couldn't be the Dark Lord. Now that Izar was no longer human, Voldemort was the only one who could hurt him seriously or make Izar uncomfortable with his pressing weight.
Izar cracked open an eye, staring straight into the calculating eyes of Nagini. "Irritating creature," Izar hissed softly.
She gave him a superior look before slapping the side of his cheek with her tail. Surprisingly, she didn't say anything in return. She only continued to slither off the empty bed and toward the door.
Empty bed.
Izar sat up, gazing coolly at the absent spot next to him. Despite his better judgment, Izar had followed Voldemort back to the man's rooms last night. They were leaving the Malfoy Manor shortly and Izar hadn't wanted to sleep in the man's bed until they were at the base again. They never knew who was watching their progress. Last night, in the lab, it had been safe enough from prying eyes. They would assume Izar was being 'punished' for his disobedience. And while Izar hadn't felt anyone's observance when he followed Voldemort, he was still unsettled.
What left him even more unsettled was the absent man next to him. Izar was sure the man wanted him to spend the night, only because he could gloat freely as soon as Izar woke up. Yes the man possessed him last night, had dominated him. And he would gloat and glow with smugness as soon as Izar opened his eyes.
And yet, there was no smirking Dark Lord. Only a serpent gliding quickly toward the door that was ajar.
Izar jumped from the bed, tiptoeing across the floor stealthily despite the pain at his backside. His actions made Nagini's great bulk move quicker, raising Izar's suspicions. He reached to door, his ears picking up the quiet murmurs on the other side.
"…not in his home. Black is no longer under the radar, he simply disappeared."
"Severus' usefulness will expire within the next few days. At which point, he will be dead. We will be able to extract Black's—" Voldemort's raspy and cold voice paused before it became silky. "Ah, Nagini. Has our pet awoken?"
"Yes, and he's listening at the door."
Izar reared back, seething. Damn serpent. Damn Dark Lord. Izar's mind raced quickly, going through possibilities and potential steps he could take in order to keep up with Voldemort. The conversation he just overheard couldn't have been anything positive on his father's end. And Izar had a strong idea of what they were speaking of. It had been bound to come out eventually; Izar just hoped it wouldn't have ever come out. Though… he had a rough strategy he could work with in order to win Regulus' life. Again.
He called the Dark Lord's hooded cloak to him, donning it quickly and doing a sloppy job of shrinking it to fit him. Izar then moved his wand over his face, chanting a strong glamour spell. The icy sensation washed the length of his body, signaling its success.
"I believe we will finish this discussion at a later date, Lucius. Please, remember to gather the Inner-Circle members and your son for our meeting this morning."
Izar threw open the door to the Dark Lord's bed chamber, catching a rising Lucius off guard. The man's eyes widened comically and his mouth dropped in a soundless gasp as he spied Izar sauntering out from the Dark Lord's private rooms.
Voldemort's aura darkened considerably. He remained motionless in his armchair, leaning his chin on his splayed fingers and watching Izar menacingly with lidded eyes. The Black heir paid the man no attention as he walked slyly over to the struggling Malfoy. The man quickly placed his mask back into place and remained upright.
"Leaving so soon, Lucius?" His bare feet slapped the ground as he came to a stop in front of the blond. Pleasantly, he reached forward and stroked a single finger down the man's cheek. Though, unexpectedly, the black Celtic ring on his finger seared, causing Izar to stop short of his seduction of the man.
He stared at the ring, rage searing hotly across his chest. The ring was only supposed to ensure his virginity, not his fidelity. After last night, it should have stopped burning whenever Izar came in physical contact with another. Instead, it was working just as well as it had since the day he received it.
Izar bowed his head, controlling himself from lashing out. Calmly, he turned away from Lucius and gave a nonchalant tug at the Celtic band, somehow not surprised that it was not coming off. That bastard.
Dropping his hands to his sides, Izar leaned against the table facing the two wizards. They were both watching him as he grabbed a ripe pear from the basket and bit greedily. He kept his eyes on Lucius, manipulating the silence to his own favor. The blond was squirming ever so slightly, glancing at the Dark Lord from the corner of his eye but never outright looking. It was clear from the man's actions that he was frightened, but there was no surprise. Lucius was frightened of how Voldemort would react to this unveiling. Which only proved Izar's suspicions right.
"Don't act so surprised, Lucius," Izar murmured past the pear in his mouth. "After all, you knew all along that the Dark Lord and I were lovers." Here, he gave a pointed glance at Voldemort before turning back to his victim.
"I…" Lucius turned pink near the tips of his ears but otherwise remained impassive. "I had my suspicion, My Lord. That is all." He was pleading toward the Dark Lord, but the wizard was remaining as stiff and still as a statue.
"Give yourself a bit more credit," Izar persisted. "You knew for a long while." He paused, hesitating just briefly before speaking his perceptions. "If not when the Dark Lord warned you away from me."
It was only a guess that Voldemort had spoken to Lucius about keeping his distance. The Dark Lord was possessive and observant. He noticed all too well the mutual interest between Izar and Lucius. A warning to stay away was highly likely and Lucius' reaction to Izar's words proved his theory right. Voldemort had warned Lucius. And thus, the man all but confirmed his relationship with Izar to the blond. Izar's disordered strategy had worked wonders in his favor, especially for being thought of so quickly.
Amusement tickled Izar throat and he indulged, laughing.
"Leave us, Lucius." Voldemort stood sharply. "Not a word of this goes beyond this room. Understood?"
Lucius turned for the door as quickly as he could without appearing frightened. "Of course, My Lord. Never." Lucius offered a chuckling Izar a quick glance before exiting the rooms.
Izar ate the core of the pear, smirking darkly at the closed door. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Voldemort sat back down, though, his position was tense and angry. "Amusing," Izar licked his fingers, wiping them on the cloak he borrowed from Voldemort. "How you are so inclined to kill Regulus because of his knowledge of us…" The Black heir finally turned and looked at Voldemort, barely keeping his self-satisfaction from his tone. "But turn the other cheek when Lucius is involved. After all, you all but told him yourself that we are… lovers. Shouldn't he be executed as well?"
Only seconds passed before Voldemort's lips thinned into a cruel smile. "You're good, child. Though, you're forgetting something vital."
"And what's that?" Izar inquired, refusing to believe Voldemort could wiggle his way out from this one.
"I couldn't care a less if Lucius knows we are involved in a sexual relationship."
Izar pushed off from the table, coming to a stop in front of the Dark Lord. "But I do!" he hissed furiously. "You don't understand the discrimination I've gone through for being Half-blood, for being the son a Mudblood, for being the son of the man who betrayed you. I've made a name for myself within the ranks and I don't want to soil it by being the Dark Lord's whore." Izar calmed himself, slowly straightening from his hunched position. "You cannot kill Regulus if you haven't killed Lucius. It is unjust."
"What's unjust is your favoritism and your blindness to your father. You don't know the consequences surrounding this issue, Izar."
"Then tell me instead of keeping this a secret."
Voldemort sat back, tapping his jaw slowly and examining Izar closely. "Severus Snape spied the information in your father's mind during his healing coma. What he saw, I'm still unclear about, but your father knew you were immortal. Severus knew this information would kill your father if I found out. And in order to save Black of my scrutiny and his eventual death, Severus brings the information to Dumbledore."
Izar stepped back, too surprised to veil his expression. Before he could inquire more information, Voldemort continued stoically.
"Severus believed if he told me Dumbledore came to the conclusion of your immortality by his own means, then I would be none the wiser and not suspect Black as the one who held the information. A rather brilliant scheme, but I saw right through his act." Voldemort lifted a lip. "I know Severus is loyal to me, but I also know he holds a burning flame for your father. It's pathetic and I find no use or no time for it. They will both be eliminated despite your predicted repudiation."
"But you haven't killed Snape yet." It wasn't a question. "And Dumbledore knows what exactly?"
Voldemort sighed. "Severus is still useful to me. And Dumbledore believes you're a vampire."
Izar shook his head, unable to come to a quick conclusion regarding this situation. He was suspicious of Snape, and yet, the man went to a great length in order to protect Regulus. It was a risky move on Snape's behalf and he had failed when Voldemort saw right through him. But there wouldn't have been any questions asked if Voldemort found out Regulus knew of Izar's immortality. The Dark Lord would slay his father without a moment's hesitation. Snape had believed that this scheme would be Regulus' only saving grace.
And it backfired. On everyone present. It made Izar more vulnerable to Dumbledore and it also made Voldemort hunt for Regulus' and Severus' life. Izar felt a grudging respect for Severus despite the circumstances. Someone who would protect Regulus to such lengths deserved a bit of admiration from Izar.
"I know what you're thinking," Voldemort drawled deviously. "And no matter what, both of them will be dead. I set Severus free only because his services are still needed. His pride will keep him in Britain and away from hiding. Regulus Black, on the other hand, will eventually show up. And he will meet a quick and painless death."
Izar's fists curled. "Regulus had no hand in this. If anyone deserves death, it's Snape." And yet, Izar would try to find a way to spare the snarky man's life. The man was a brilliant manipulator, an intelligent man whose loyalties were firm, doubtless of their shades of grey. Snape made Regulus happy and Izar was always impractical and sentimental when it came to his father's wellbeing. "I told you once that if you killed Regulus, I would turn my back on you without a second thought."
It took one blink for Voldemort to rise from his chair and cross the room. The Dark Lord took a sudden painful grip on Izar's jaw, tilting his head back domineeringly. "You already had your chance to leave. Now that your chance has expired, you're not going anywhere. You run, and I will find you wherever you go."
The man's words were not only a baleful threat but also a promise Izar knew he would keep. Nonetheless, he met the man's eyes head on.
Voldemort pressed the pad of his thumb against Izar's bottom lip before turning away. The Black heir had two choices. He could either press the topic or he could swallow his temper and try to control the situation from behind the scenes.
He chose the latter. "I met with James and Lily Potter last night."
The man paused in pouring himself a cup of tea, yet he kept his back turned to Izar. "Is that so?" the dark head bowed as he continued to pour the hot liquid. "And just what did your mommy dearest have to say?"
Izar scoffed. "I actually spoke to Potter. He is rather… intriguing but incredibly naïve. His sense of morals are impressive and there are also countless of flaws in his views. He's hot and cold. I sometimes find it difficult to pinpoint what I think of him," he admitted. "He wanted me to ask you for a truce, a negotiation of sorts."
Voldemort actually laughed. Long fingers curled around his tea cup as he glided back to his armchair. "I find myself curious to know the terms of this negotiation. Against my better judgment, of course."
"Of course," Izar mocked. "I already know your answer. Why must we waste our time with this?"
Sipping from his tea, Voldemort watched Izar from over the brim of his cup. The man took his time setting down the porcelain dishware and savoring the strongly prepared tea. "My child," the man crooned. "You are rather irritable this morning. Whatever do you have up your arse? Or… what's absent, I wonder?" The man cocked his head to the side, a sick smile across his face.
"My Lord, you are incredibly amusing." Izar nodded, pressing his lips together firmly in order to hide his snarl. "Really, your sense of humor is tremendously witty, I find myself overwhelmed."
Voldemort barely batted a lash at Izar's dripping sarcasm and instead traced his upper lip, surveying Izar across the room. The crimson eyes seemed to stare right through him. "You smell exceptionally delicious this morning, love." As if to prove his point, the man's nostrils flared and he closed his eyes in bliss. "I swear, this morning Nagini had trouble distinguishing us apart by our scent."
Izar blanched, realizing he stunk of Voldemort but finding the idea so repulsive and so… arousing. He hated himself. Turning away from the man's savoring expression, Izar walked back toward the table full of food.
"And I see you're sore…"
The Black heir gritted his teeth together. "I'm glad you have the ability to reap enjoyment from life's small pleasures, Tom." He placed both hands on the table, catching sight of his black Celtic ring. He considered it for a moment before a nasty idea sprang forth. Oh yes, he would leave the topic buried. For now.
"The negotiation was quite skewed on our side, actually," Izar began, changing the topic. "They want us to cease our raids and our killings. They'll agree on having the Dark Arts legalized as long as there are reasonable restrictions on it. There would be two figures to form a treaty of sorts for the new society. One Dark, one Light. Other than that, Potter claims there will be countless of Light Wizards following behind his decisions."
Voldemort gave a light chuckle at Izar's turned back. "You are far too trusting. I find little satisfaction from going the easy way out. If I'm going to reconstruct Britain, I'm going to do it on my terms without unwanted assistance."
Izar stared at the large mirror on the wall, meeting Voldemort's crimson gaze through the reflection. "What's going to happen?" Izar asked quietly. "To us?"
A thin black eyebrow rose. "I'm afraid you'll have to expand, child." Voldemort spoke to the mirror.
"This war isn't going to last forever, Tom." It was a slight risk using the man's given and hated name, but Izar wanted the man to know he was serious. And he required an honest and serious answer in return. "I know that immorality has always appealed to you. Death is an unknown, a fearful journey you never wanted to embark on. Thus, you created your own way to resist it. But you also pulled me along despite my willingness to walk the path of death."
There was something flickering behind Voldemort's gaze, Izar had trouble discerning it.
"While you find yourself fearful of death, I'm afraid I find myself fearful of this immortality," Izar confessed quietly, keeping his attention on the reflection rather than the man himself. It seemed easier this way, to confess something so raw. "Right now the war is occupying my attention, keeping me distracted from the dark void that is eternity."
Voldemort stood from his position on the armchair, approaching Izar, yet keeping his focus on the mirror. "If that is all you're worried about, you should have come to me sooner. Granted, a part of me foolishly considers that everyone shares my same beliefs. That they'd kill or do anything in their power to be immortal, but you are always the exception."
The split-red eyes turned from the reflection to the corporal Izar. An arm snaked around Izar's waist, tugging the smaller body flush against his chest. The Black heir kept his eyes on the mirror until he knew it was safe enough to look away.
"I will always keep you entertained, just as you will always keep me entertained." Voldemort bent down, pressing his nose into Izar's vulnerable neck. "Do you truly think Britain is the only country that needs a Dark Lord? It isn't world domination I want, but the power to be able to tear down a society and then rebuild it. I want to role-play with you, experimenting both sides of the battlefield. What will it be like, decades from now, to fight for the Light and tear down the society we are currently building only to reveal we were truly on the Dark side?"
An eternity of games, of manipulation of not only each other, but everyone they came in contact with. It was what Izar enjoyed doing; it was what Voldemort thrived for. They may struggle to get along at times, but they were so very compatible. Time was an ever-changing element. Who knew where time would take them tomorrow, let alone an eternity?
It made Izar feel slightly more comfortable with his curse. He was able to pull his eyes away from the mirror and glance up at the Dark Lord. "Your logic is complicated to grasp," Izar murmured, finding himself diverted. "I can't imagine you fighting for the Light."
"Perhaps not very long," Voldemort agreed. "I, the Light Lord and you, the Dark Lord. Or, two opposing Dark Lords fighting for control. So many choices, so many possibilities to play with."
At that, Izar laughed. "I will not be taking the mantle of a Lord."
"Maybe not this century, but you will most definitely make a fine Dark Lord, or Light Lord. I've been training you since you turned fifteen, after all." Voldemort pressed his growing fangs against Izar's neck. "We will enjoy one another, I have no doubts. If I ever fail to challenge or entertain you, then I will embrace death with open arms."
Izar pulled away, assessing the man closely. "Then you're saying there are ways to kill us?"
Voldemort unwrapped his arms around Izar before turning his shoulder on him. "Until I know you are not suicidal, I will award you with the information."
Izar found himself bemused by the man's statement. "I am not suicidal. How do you know if I don't want the information just to kill you?"
The expression on Voldemort's face was all but tickled. "If that was your reason for asking, then I would be happy to oblige. But I refuse to give you the information you need to end your immortality. You belong with me, and I will have it no other way." Voldemort waved a careless hand, making his way to the door. "Get dressed appropriately and meet me down in the parlor within the next hour."
Obviously the conversation was over.
In the face of the closed door, Izar realized that he didn't know anything about the type of creature he was. Of course, he knew the basics, but the basics were not good enough for him. He needed to flesh out his curiosity and know the process Voldemort used to create this creature, what their limitations were, how they could die... he was thirsty for more knowledge. Though, maybe that's what Voldemort intended. He wanted Izar to remain oblivious and it unsettled Izar. He was used to knowing everything he desired, and not be kept in the dark. This creature he was… it wasn't in any books he could find. It came down to Voldemort as the source of information and the man was unwilling to divulge in any secrets.
He knew he could still feel pain and pleasure, he could still ejaculate, and he could bleed. Mostly human sensations, but he didn't need blood to survive, nor food or sleep, but he did both anyway because it sharpened his mind. The pain he felt was minimal, unless it was Voldemort causing the pain. Surely if Izar's head was cut off, he would die?
Right? Or was fire the more likely weapon?
And then he wondered why he was thinking so hard about this and questioned if Voldemort had been right to assume Izar was suicidal.
{Death of Today}
After dressing and showering, Izar swiftly made his way down to the first level of the Malfoy Manor. It was barren this morning, all the guests gone for the year. He wondered if this emptiness was what Draco felt as a child. Or did the Malfoy's warm the manor up when they were alone?
Stepping into the parlor, he observed the solemn faces of the Inner-Circle members. All of them were present, save for Severus Snape and Antonin Dolohov. Draco Malfoy was also sitting uncomfortably at the end of the room, a clear indication he was not meant to be confused with the rest of the wizards. As his eyes met Izar's, he lifted his lip and turned away—disgusted.
"Mr. Black, so glad you could make it," Voldemort drawled. The man was currently sitting on a regal chair, his back to the fireplace. His Inner-Circle members were split in half, one group sitting on his right and the other sitting on his left. Their postures were stiff and imperial, their expressions just as immobile. "Please, kneel before me."
Biting his tongue, Izar calmly walked down the aisle of Death Eaters before kneeling gracefully before the Dark Lord. Playing his part, Izar bowed his head, knowing the boundaries of their relationship required him to act somewhat respectable to the Dark Lord in public. If a small act of submission was needed, Izar would play his part as best as he could.
Voldemort uncrossed his legs and reached for an object on the table next to him. "You have continued to show your worth in my ranks from the moment you were Marked. Not only have you made a name for yourself at such a young age, but you have proved your loyalty. I am a… empathetic Lord to my loyal followers and know when to reward my Death Eaters. That is why I am promoting you to First Tier."
Izar glanced up, spying the gold-plated mask in the Dark Lord's hands. It shouldn't have come to a surprise to him, from the way Bellatrix and the others were behaving yesterday morning. But it did take him aback to be so formally promoted. He could also feel a bit of pride and a hint of disappointment. While he knew that the Dark Lord used the tiers to encourage and inspire the other Death Eaters to act their best, First Tier was a glorified and respected position. Now that he was First Tier, he could safely assume a larger role without any obstacles.
And yet, there was also disappointment. He enjoyed earning what he worked for and basking in the reward afterwards. Did he truly earn this mask or was it just given to him because he was the Dark Lord's lover?
No, Izar thought with startling ferocity.
He earned this. He had sacrificed many things for this war, for the Dark Lord.
He deserved this.
"Thank you, My Lord. I will continue to prove my worth." Izar reached for the mask, touching the cool metal. Before he could tug the mask in his possession, Voldemort's bone-white hand curled around his wrist, holding him in place.
Leaning forward, the man's split-crimson eyes inched closer to Izar's upturned face. The two shared a private moment of light amusement before Voldemort began to speak. "I want you to understand that this is a privilege, not a right. With that being said, I can easily revoke this power I grant you, as evidence of Dolohov's slip of rank. Do not abuse this power, or you will be punished accordingly." Voldemort then looked up at the rest of the Inner-Circle members. "And that goes for all of you."
Izar was finally released and he sat back on his heels, taking his mask with him. He could almost feel the unstable auras behind him, trembling in distaste. In fact, Rabastan Lestrange was sitting directly to the side of Izar, his breathing coarse and unsteady.
The Black heir stifled a grin and bowed once again to the Dark Lord.
"Go find a seat, Mr. Black. We have something to discuss."
Izar stood elegantly from his kneeled position and offered a light smile toward a giddy Bellatrix before sitting at the farthest chair to Voldemort's right. Conveniently, he was across from Augustus Rookwood, the ex-Unspeakable. The man's heavily oiled hair was pulled back into a bun, revealing the pallid to his face. The man had lost a lot of weight and Izar was certain he was still recovering from the fatal wound across his chest during the Unspeakable raid.
Rookwood gave a quick nod, his lips mangled into what could be considered a smile. Izar repeated the man's actions, ignoring Draco's glower from near the door.
"As many of you know," Voldemort began, slicing the tension-filled room with a sharp tone. "I presented young Mr. Malfoy with the task of repairing the Vanishing Cabinet inside Hogwarts. I believed a student within Hogwarts would remain undetected from Dumbledore's trusting eyes. Alas, our young Malfoy has failed to accomplish his task."
If possible, Draco seemed to shrink in his chair, his eyes glued to the side of Izar's face. The Black heir continued to watch Voldemort, not impressed with the boy's antics. Draco had every right to be angry, but the boy was missing the bigger picture. If Izar had accompanied Draco and Daphne as planned, they would have gotten caught and Izar would have never found out Dumbledore was aware of his scheme.
"Hogwarts will be our last stand," Voldemort continued. "And I want a way inside."
It was clear that Voldemort was open to suggestions. Or, perhaps he already came up with a plan but wanted to appease his Inner-Circle and ask for their input. The members of the Inner-Circle remained silent for a long while.
"A Portkey?" Evelyn Mulciber suggested. "If Malfoy can construct the Portkey at Hogwarts and owl it to Lucius, perhaps we can have a chance of entering inside."
Izar couldn't help it. He snorted.
Heads turned in his direction and he sat straighter, looking straight ahead and not meeting any eyes. "It is a likely plan, really," Izar tried to soften his disrespectful reaction to Mulciber's suggestion. "By creating a Portkey inside Hogwarts, the wards will not affect it. The properties of the Portkey will include the safeguards, making it possible for outsiders to Portkey inside the castle without any problem."
"Then what do you find so amusing, Black?" Mulciber sneered.
Izar glanced down at his nails, picking at them nonchalantly. "Albus Dumbledore may be viewed as an old fool by many, but he's also an intelligent old fool. This is war and he's past respecting his students' privacy, especially Draco's privacy after finding out about the Vanishing Cabinet. He will be monitoring the post closely. And considering we will need a full army during the Hogwarts raid, I doubt he would allow several Portkeys to exit the wards."
Silence.
Izar didn't understand why Voldemort wanted to include Hogwarts as his intended location for his last raid. It was Dumbledore's turf. But then again, it was all the more reason to have Hogwarts as the location. The public viewed Hogwarts as the most protected safeguard in the entire Great Britain. If Hogwarts fell, so would the public's faith in both Dumbledore and Rufus Scrimgeour. They would turn their hope on Tom Marvolo Riddle.
It was brilliant, but also difficult.
"Izar Black," Barty Crouch Jr. murmured in jubilation. "Is our key to get inside Hogwarts."
Izar raised his eyebrows, finally glancing at the other members of the room. Voldemort was sitting imposingly in his chair, watching the events unfold like an elated puppet master. Next to Izar, Barty was grinning evilly, eyeing Izar with uncontrolled desire.
"Oh?" Izar probed. "And how is that?"
Barty wiped his palms on his pants, his tongue shooting out to swipe at the corner of his mouth. "Rumors are that you are magic-sensitive. You were also the one who tore down the Unspeakable invention before it could drain our magic. The wards around Hogwarts are our largest barrier, but I'm sure a magic-sensitive like yourself can find the weak spot and tear them down."
Murmurs spread around the Inner-Circle as auras sparked with intrigue and excitement. Voldemort's smile just got wider, as if his plans were unfolding radiantly.
"There are many things wrong with that scenario," Izar rebutted sharply. "Hogwarts is ancient. And so are its wards. One cannot simply swipe them away as easily as an invention that was recently made."
"But you will try," Voldemort spoke, silencing anyone who was about to comment. "Weeks before the raid, I will send you and a selected few to scope out the wards and find the weak spot. Do not attempt to unravel them, just make certain you can remember the position on the day of the raid." The Dark Lord looked away from Izar and everyone assembled. "Until that time, prepare yourselves for the upcoming battle. I will inform you the time and location at a later date."
The Death Eaters began standing, bowing at the waist in front of Voldemort before trickling out the door. All that was left behind was Lucius, Izar, and an uncomfortable Draco.
"My Lord, Draco is prepared to make up for his failure," Lucius whispered in reverence. "Do you wish for him to complete another task?"
"Yes," Izar interrupted before the Dark Lord could deliver a snarky comment. Red eyes widened only a fraction, but Izar turned away from the man and toward Draco. "There is another task; an easier and far more believable mission for you to accomplish than your original request from our Lord. Yet, it is more important. Very vital that you succeed."
If Voldemort was clueless to Izar's line of thought, he didn't say anything.
Draco straightened from his chair, his eyes hopeful, yet veiled with dislike for Izar. "Anything, My Lord," he pleaded, glancing at the Dark Lord past Izar's shoulder. "I will do anything you wish."
Izar sat back, crossing his legs and smiling grimly. "Then if our Lord permits it, I will present you with the task tomorrow before you leave for Hogwarts."
Today would be tiresome. He had two Horcruxes to complete before the day was over. Now that Voldemort wasn't forcing his hand at creating them, Izar felt no qualms with going forward with his earlier plans. He just hoped things would go according to plan.
{Notes} Things will progressively pick up from this chapter onward. I would like to say there are less than ten chapters left, but that's an extremely rough estimate and may be more. Raid will be next chapter… *wistful sigh*. It is the one chapter I envisioned before I even began the first chapter of the second arc. I look forward to writing it.
Hopefully Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was good. I haven't seen it yet, but I heard it was good from the reviews. Maybe I'll get to it this upcoming weekend.
Have a good week- and to those who celebrate- have a good Thanksgiving.
