The lemon in this chapter was deleted (link is on my profile, just delete spaces). Another thing: There are grammar mistakes and typos. You have no idea how difficult and long this chapter was. I'll reread over it later. Oh- and this will also be the chapter before the end, the peak before everything, the calm before the storm… I think you get the point. Thanks to all of you who reviewed & read. ;)
Enjoy.
Chapter Thirty One
"You can't be here," Izar whispered fiercely. Behind him, a hissing chuckle sounded. He couldn't tell if it came from Voldemort or Nagini. "Why did you come?" He knew he sounded reserved, but Regulus was an idiot for coming here. After what happened…
Izar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and exiting Voldemort's chambers. The chuckle followed him, becoming inaudible when Izar slammed the door shut behind him. The last time he had seen Regulus, the man had been in a hospital bed, recovering from the attack in France. He remembered asking Regulus to run with him, to hide from the Ministry after Izar was found out to be a traitor during the Unspeakable raid. Regulus seemed to have woken up a different man, for he denied Izar his company and he also denounced the Dark… orthe Dark Lord in specific.
Looking back on it now, Izar understood how foolish it was to want his father to accompany him on his exploits. Regulus spent half his life in hiding. It was selfish of Izar to ask Regulus to throw his freedom away once again. After all, there needed to be at least oneBlack in the public's good graces. And with Aiden to watch, someone needed to be around.
Voldemort had been angry with Regulus after hearing of the man's second betrayal. But that wasn't the reason for the Dark Lord's persistence of ending Regulus' life. His father and Snape had revealed Izar's immortality to Dumbledore. Regulus was, of course, ignorant to this detail. Nonetheless, Voldemort had been enraged. And there wasn't anything Izar could do to stop the man's decision of ending Regulus' or Severus' life.
Or could he?
"Why did I come?" Regulus repeated Izar's question with disbelief. "Because I was told that my brother died and his body was brought back by his nephew. Because my son had been captured by the Ministry. And because I was told I would never see you again…"
"Do you have anyidea what position you are putting me in?" Izar demanded sharply. He turned his back to Voldemort's chambers, his shoulders hunching in defeat. "He's going to kill you. And I am powerless to stop it this time, father."
Regulus reached out a hand and curled it around Izar's bicep. "Please, let me speak to you. Alone."
There was a small, trivial part of Izar that wanted to deny his father his request. It would be easier not to grow attached before Izar was forced to watch Regulus die.
What the hell was he saying? He was already foolishly attached to his father, damned what Voldemort said. Attachments were necessary in life and Izar would never stop creating them. Yes it hurt when he lost them. Yes there would always be a gut-wrenching pain when he had to leave them behind, but it was worth it in the end. He couldn't imagine a life without interacting with Lucius Malfoy or having a soft bond with Daphne Greengrass. Severus Snape had always been his idol in school. And Regulus. Regulus hadn't been there for Izar as a child, but his father was present when he needed him the most. Attachments were what helped an individual grow and learn.
Izar put his hands in his pockets, smiling grimly. Voldemort once said that he didn't think Izar would ever stop forming attachments. The man was right.
"Follow me," he beckoned. Izar led the man down the corridor before entering a room that was situated close to Voldemort's chambers. It was the only room that was half-way comfortable in means of atmosphere. The only other rooms available were across the base and near the other Death Eaters that were housed here.
Distinctively, he focused his attention on Regulus. There was no sound of footsteps coming from the man, just the rustle of clothing. It was almost if he were gliding. "It's a medical charm I learned a few weeks after leaving the hospital," Regulus began, noting Izar's discrete observation. "The Charm correlates with my brain waves and maneuvers my body the direction I wish it to go. A very useful spell when I wish to leave the chair behind. Which is often, mind."
Izar sat on one of the chairs, watching closely as Regulus glided toward the opposite chair and sat rigidly. His father appeared the same. But that was to be expected. It seemed like ages since Izar had last seen Regulus. In reality, it had only been a few weeks.
"We parted on such…" Regulus hesitated. "You hadn't let me explain myself. I was torn watching you leave that day in the hospital."
"You could have owled me," Izar insisted coolly.
"I did," Regulus snapped. His nostrils flared beneath his hood and his fingers curled into fists. "I suppose Lucius was doing a famed job of keeping my owls out of your hands. He and the Dark Lord. So I decided to come here myself."
Izar leaned forward, placing his chin on his hand and staring levelly at his father. "You do realize that the Dark Lord is holding Snape prisoner here, correct?" His charmed green and charcoal eyes swept across Regulus' emotionless face. "And he is incredibly amused and happy you came to welcome your own death with open arms."
"I realize Severus has been missing, yes, but he isn't my priority at the moment. You are."
The younger wizard stood up and began pacing. "You're entirely clueless." It shouldn't have come to a shock for Izar. His father was accused wrongly by Voldemort. His death was certainly not necessary, but the Dark Lord did say that if anyone found out about their immortality, they would be killed.
Regulus dropped his hood, staring up at Izar with tired eyes. "Then fill me in, Izar. Stop prancing around the issue."
"Snape was helping you during your coma," Izar began, turning his heel and sitting back down. "He was nurturing your mind so you wouldn't acquire brain damage when you woke up." His father nodded once, his eyes already on edge. "He stumbled across something particularly interesting," Izar continued. "The fact that you knew I was immortal."
The blood seemed to drain from Regulus' face as he leaned further against the chair, searching Izar. "Izar…" Regulus shook his head, seemingly lost for words.
"Why didn't you talk to me about that?" Izar pushed himself at the end of his chair, reaching forward and touching Regulus' knees. "Why did you keep it buried away?"
"You seemed so… secretive. I respected the boundaries you wanted to keep up. You didn't seem unhappy or upset after your immortality, not that I could see. If you wanted to talk to me about it, you would approach me with it." Regulus grabbed hold of Izar's hand on his knee and tightened his grip. "I had a feeling that the topic of your immortality was meant to be discreet."
"Well," Izar grinned sourly. Regulus' statement surprised him. His father had always been overprotective, but then again, Regulus also understood there were boundaries. "Snape knew that the information you possessed would kill you. Voldemort would find out you knew of my immortality and he would hunt you down. Snape had this… brilliantidea that if he told Dumbledore first, Voldemort wouldn't be aware of the fact you were the one with the knowledge. The Dark Lord would believe Dumbledore was the one who discovered the information. Not you. Thus, Voldemort wouldn't go after you."
Regulus' mouth curled downward in an ugly grimace. He stared at Izar with strong disbelief and disgust. "I…" Regulus gave an acrimonious laugh. "I never, everintended for Severus to do something like that, Izar. He had no right to put you in that situation. If I had known—"
"You didn't know anything, Regulus." Izar dropped the warm hand reluctantly. "You were kept in the dark with many things." The young wizard stood once again before Regulus. "It's in the past now. If anything, I understand Snape's reasons for trying to protect you. Voldemort was just two steps ahead of him. What I'm concerned about is your safety."
When Regulus stood, he had a few inches on Izar due to the charm helping him move. The older wizard pressed his palms to either side of Izar's face and brought him forward. "I don't regret coming here, even if it means my life." Regulus breathed in Izar's scent before burying his face into his son's hair. "I needed to see you, not only to make sure you're alright, but to reassure you that I could never abandon you."
Setting his chin on his father's shoulder, Izar allowed the man's fingers to trail affectionately through his hair. He noticed the subject change—away from his immortality. Either Regulus understood surprisingly well that Izar could not talk about it or his father was trying to take his own mind off the fact his son was 'manipulated by the Dark Lord to become immortal'. It was not like Izar to underestimate his father, but over the years, Izar believed there were a limited amount of people who could analyze things as well as Voldemort and himself.
The younger wizard slowly reached out an arm and curled it around Regulus. It didn't matter what Regulus was thinking. Right now, Izar was selfishly enjoying this. He knew this may be the last time he would see his father and he wanted it to be on better terms than their previous meeting.
"I know you wouldn't abandon me," Izar murmured. "Though, I have to admit, at the time, I believed it. I know now that it would have been a foolish decision to follow me on the run. Not only were you recovering from the attack, but you had Aiden to look out for…"
"And you come before all those," Regulus whispered fiercely in Izar's ear. "I just knew the Dark Lord would shelter you. If he hadn't, then I would have gladly followed you."
They stood in silence for a long while. Regulus continued to stroke Izar's wavy locks, pausing every once and a while to work out a knot. "Izar," Regulus began hesitantly. "Tell me you're happy."
Izar blinked across the dark room before smiling softly. "You would think I'm insane if you knew what made me happy, father." The younger pulled away, yet remained a hair's touch away from his father. "I don't necessarily know what happymeans, but I'm content. Whether you like to believe it or not, I'm remarkably similar to the Dark Lord." Izar reached out and touched Regulus' chest lightly. "The only thing that makes us different is my sliver of humanity."
Regulus cupped Izar's fingers with his hand, a satisfied smile across his face. "Promise me you'll never lose that humanity."
Izar smiled unpleasantly, already sensing the strong auras approach their location. He had known he wouldn't have much time with his father. "I don't intend to." He stepped closer, wanting to touch as much as Regulus as possible. It was a bitter victory when Izar laid his palm across his father's unshaven cheek, caressing it. "I wanted to thank you for being with me during my hour of need. If it hadn't been for you or Sirius, I wouldn't have been able to come out of it whole."
Regulus' charcoal eyes seemed to cloud with confusion. "I'm your father. It's my duty and honor to take care of you…"
The door suddenly opened behind Izar. "You're to come with us, Black," one of the wizards drawled in boredom. "The Dark Lord has requested your captivity tonight. Tomorrow morning, you and Severus Snape will be executed. If you put up a struggle, you won't have the honor of spending the night."
Izar clenched his jaw, turning and giving the three men an once-over. "Why tomorrow?" He vaguely remembered their identities. They were of Second Tier and also wanted criminals. They stayed in the base along with all the other fugitives.
The silver-haired man assessed Izar coolly. "To make an example out of them, of course. Why waste a perfectly good execution if there isn't an audience?"
Izar gave a sarcastic chuckle. "Of course,how silly of me." He reached behind him and encircled his father's wrist with quick reflexes. The man was about to pull out his wand, no doubt creating chaos with his actions. Turning, Izar caught Regulus' eye. "Just lay low," he whispered. "I'll find a way to get you and Snape out of this."
Regulus' mouth hardened. "I was well aware of what would happen when I came here, Izar. I'm willing to take the chance."
"Well I'mnot." Izar clenched his teeth, hissing lethally at his father. "Trust me." Only when Izar saw a reluctant resolve in Regulus' eyes did he release his father's wrist. Thankfully, the man's stubborn pride was cooled today, for Regulus remained motionless.
Legs stiff, Izar swept out of the room, grudgingly leaving his father standing alone. Before he disappeared completely, Izar grabbed the 'ring-leader's' collar. "If I hear of any physical damage done to him before his execution, I willcome hunt you down personally and kill you. Consequences be damned. You hear me?" Sometimes, it was exhilarating using his ranking in the army. They had no choice but to comply to his commands if they did not inflict with the Dark Lord's orders.
The Death Eater grunted in disdain before spitting at Izar's feet. "Got it, your highness."
Izar set down the Death Eater and swept away. His mood was dark as he entered the Dark Lord's chambers. "You're a bastard," Izar spat when he caught sight of the Dark Lord. The man was sitting calmly at the breakfast table, acting as if he hadn't left the room and ordered Regulus' capture.
"I'm well aware of that," Voldemort commented airily. The Dark Lord turned the page of the Daily Prophet.He only looked up when Izar walked past. "You need to sit and eat."
There was a reason why Voldemort was waiting until tomorrow to kill Regulus and Snape. And Izar knew exactly the reason. He needed time and privacy to plan his necessary steps in order to make good on the Dark Lord's challenge.
"You can shove those eggs up your arse. I'm taking a shower." Before Izar entered the bathroom, he turned and gave Voldemort a pointed look. "And that is not an invitation." Slamming the door on a smirking Dark Lord, Izar turned and allowed his mind to run possible scenarios and plans.
This was one challenge he couldn't afford to lose.
{Death of Today}
He knew he was dreaming. When was the last time he saw such endless white? The last time he was surrounded and swallowed by white was when he laid in the snow with Sirius' corpse. But it was not cold here, it was not windy, and there was no prone figure of his uncle.
Izar's bare feet slapped the white ground. Beneath his feet, it was smooth and glossy. It had to be marble of some sort.
How pointless. Izar pocketed his hands in his black cloak as he continued to walk. He didn't know how long he had been walking, but finally, he saw a figure up ahead. It was small and short, incredibly petite. Whomever it was must have been a child or a young woman. Izar squinted, slowing his walk as he came within arm's reach. His earlier assumption about it being a child was correct. The boy wore all white, washing out his pale skin and contrasting harshly against the dark hair.
Suddenly, the boy turned and Izar blinked. "Aiden?"
The boy's lips parted in a bright smile, but it dimmed dramatically in the next moment. The pure-blood adoption ring Regulus was using on Aiden seemed to be working. The boy's light hair was darkening considerably and his rounded features were slowly sharpening. He was beginning to look like a mixture of Sirius and Regulus.
Aiden was silent as he reached his fingers up toward Izar and the older wizard reluctantly bowed at his waist. With caution, Izar watched Aiden's eyes turn milky white. Before he could lean away from the boy, the small index finger pressed between his eyes— blocking out his own eyesight.
Everything was clouded white again. But just as Izar blinked away the fuzziness, he was seized by flashes of images. It appeared choppy, as if Aiden was struggling to hold the vision and dream together in his inexperience.
The beginning of the vision was so fast, so unrecognizable, that Izar couldn't get anything other than the image of trees surrounding him and an old shack at his back.
In the next flash, Izar could decipher clearly. It showed Voldemort sitting in an empty room. The man's crimson eyes were oddly disoriented as they stared across the room at nothing in particular. Within seconds, the face morphed into an expression of potent sorrow. The Dark Lord gave a roar of desperation as he clutched his face with a single hand. In his opposite hand, his fingers became lax and a piece of metal hit the ground. The object rolled across the uneven floor and came to a stop. Izar noticed it was the Gaunt ring—the Resurrection Stone.
No matter how long Izar was frozen at the show of emotion, he was forced away from the vision and on to another. Voldemort stood over a cauldron, his face clear of any emotion, save for wicked determination. Though, Izar noticed he wasn't paying attention to the cauldron, but to the woman standing across from him. It was Bellatrix. Izar watched as she seemed to stare hesitantly in the goblet in her hand. "Drink it," Voldemort ordered with a cold hiss. Never one to displease her Lord, Bellatrix downed the potion. The goblet crashed to the floor not long before Bellatrix followed suit. The room was a static of Dark Magic as it groaned and laughed gleefully.
White clouded Izar's vision before it cleared and showed him Bellatrix once again. This time, her stomach was heavy with child. Seeing this, Izar could only go cold at the sight of it. He watched in frozen horror as Voldemort kneeled before her, pressing his fingers against the pregnant belly. "Is it him? Did it work?" she exclaimed in deranged hope. Voldemort smiled thinly in response. The smile should have sent any man running, but it seemed to melt away the dark shadows across the Dark Lord's face. "How can you tell?" Bellatrix pestered.
Before Izar could hear a response, he was thrust forcibly in another vision. Screams pierced the room and Izar took a step back when he saw Bellatrix giving birth. Her face contorted once more as she pushed. A moment later, her screams were muted forever as another took its place. Izar could only stare in disbelief as Voldemort held the squirming newborn up to his face, inhaling lovingly. The man's hand cradled the fragile neck protectively as the other held the squirming back. "Izar… welcome back, my child," Voldemort whispered in greeting. The Dark Lord nuzzled his face against the crying child, never looking as happy as he did at that moment.
When the last vision came forward, Izar didn't even fight the whiteness that slowly cleared his eyesight. Sitting across from him, he could see an exact replica of himself. Only, this Izar was years younger. He appeared to be twelve, thirteen at the latest. And he was human. There was sharp intelligence and familiarity in this Izar's eyes as he moved a bishop on the chess board. Yet, there was also a challenging spark in the green and charcoal eyes as he looked across the table at the smirking Dark Lord. "Check Mate."
The finger pressing between his eyes removed itself and Izar was left trembling, staring into the dark eyes of Aiden. "Why?" Izar shuddered. "Why would you show me that?"
A childish smile crossed the boy's face. "You have to accept it," Aiden spoke deeply. The voice seemed to vibrate through the walls of his dream, weighing heavily with wisdom a child his age should never possess. "He loves you."
Izar reared back, angry. "You think that islove? Resurrecting someone from the dead is notlove. It's torture!"
"Your memories from your past life will be intact. It will be like you were never gone in the first place," Aiden rasped. "You will be angry at first, but you'll accept it. You must accept it."
And then, Izar woke. His body was trembling madly, most likely waking Voldemort up in the process. Turning his head, he locked eyes with watchful and pensive crimson. The Dark Lord did not speak or move as Izar got out of bed and escaped into the bathroom.
After shutting the door behind him, Izar slumped against the vanity, staring at his reflection. No. This couldn't happen. Was… had it been real? Had Aiden really appeared to him in the dream world? Could Seer travel through reality and contact another? It was something to check up on and he would need to do so immediately without rousing Voldemort's suspicions even more than he already had. But… what if it was real?
Izar stared at his dilated eyes in the mirror. What then?
He gave an unhinged whimper, throwing his head back down and staring at the basin. What was he more upset over? The fact he would die or that Voldemort would resurrect him?
Of course it was the latter. It was the latter, without a doubt. And yet, there was still a weight settling in Izar's stomach at the thought of dying. He was frightened. Any normal person would be frightened when they learned they were going to die. It was the unknown and it was completely out of everyone's control. Save for Tom Riddle. The resurrection terrified him even more than the death. What would death be like? It might feel wonderful, a paradise. And it would all be ripped from him when Voldemort resurrected him. Or… it might be nothingness, a comfortable void. Whatever the afterlife was like, Izar knew that being reborn would feel painful.
He shuddered, closing his eyes against the alien feeling of helplessness and vulnerability. It was a rarity when he had to deal with emotions that were for the weak. But a situation like this was understandable to feel something so… so raw. It was even more powerful due to the fact that it would be happening relatively soon. In the visions, Bellatrix didn't look a day over what she did currently. And that meant Izar had little time to act.
Love.
Love. Izar issued a cold laugh. Aiden was just a child. How could the boy understand something so complicated?
And yet, that made him pause. Could the Dark Lord truly love? Or just feel a burning possessiveness and sense of ownership? It was true they had a relationship and the Dark Lord felt insecure about it. But surely the man did not loveIzar. If it was love, the Dark Lord would leave Izar dead. He would respect Izar's wishes not to be resurrected.
Izar clenched his teeth past the pain and stark terror. His mind replayed the image of Voldemort sitting so forlornly in the room, his face twisting out of loss and desperation.
He pushed the memory away, opening his eyes to end the vision. He couldn't think about Voldemort in this. He had to think for himself. If he began thinking about the Dark Lord, Izar would just become more confused and frightened. At the moment, that was the last thing he wanted to be. He had to focus on something else… something…
Like a challenge.
Izar held his trembling body still as he stared at the faucet in surprise. Yes. He could think of this as a challenge. Even if Voldemort did not know about it, Izar could conjure up the idea that the Dark Lord did know and they were competing against one another. Voldemort would be trying to make plans of resurrecting Izar and Izar would be trying to prevent the resurrection. Brilliant.
"Brilliant," Izar whispered to himself. His mind slowly adapted to the new line of motivation. He no longer thought about the vision he witnessed and he no longer thought of the emotions that would accompany this plan. Right now, his mind was focused on winning this challenge and nothing else. This challenge was the biggest competition he had yet. Even setting Reuglus and Snape free tomorrow would be nothing compared to this.
And it all was so easy. It was the easiest challenge, but also the most important to win. All he had to do was destroy the Gaunt ring. Sure, there were other rituals that claimed to resurrect. But those were incredibly Dark and they had ill side-affects. Voldemort wouldn't take the chance on them. He would use the Resurrection Stone and his invented ritual that Izar was certain he would invent later on.
Next to him, the door opened and a shirtless Dark Lord swooped inside. The man's bare feet slapped at the floor, reminding Izar about the dream he just had. He reprimanded himself, pushing that memory away. He had to look at this from an intellect point-of-view, emotions and feelings excluded. He needed to learn about the Seer and their abilities and he also needed to destroy the Gaunt ring without Voldemort's knowledge.
Arms encircled Izar's torso, pulling him against an equally naked and thin chest. "I hope you aren't putting your scheme in motion right now regarding your father's escape. If you were, I would be most disappointed." It was said lightly, almost teasingly with an undertone of concern.
Izar smiled thinly, leaning his head against the naked chest and staring up at Voldemort's face. He reached up and ran his fingers down the man's jawline. "I'm still angry with you, you know." He pulled himself from the Dark Lord's arms and made his way back to the bedroom. "Speak to me again when Regulus is not in captivity."
The Black heir grabbed the cloak lining the wall. As he made a move to put it on, he noticed the weight in the pocket. Pausing, he stuck his hand inside, feeling the unopened envelope. He suddenly remembered Lily's letter she sent him. Regulus had given Izar the letter when he told him she was dropping the custody battle. This cloak had been residing in Voldemort's chambers for several weeks now, turning cold with Izar's lack of use. After all, he had been banned from the base for a month after Regulus' attack at France… he had forgotten all about it.
"You're staying here," Voldemort commanded from the bed. "You need to sleep and gain your energy back from the torture you went through."
Izar hesitated before hanging the cloak back up and making his way back to the Dark Lord. "It's endearing you care so much." He climbed into bed, a good few feet away from the other man. "But we both know you only want me here so you can keep an eye on me."
The Dark Lord only wrapped an arm around Izar in response.
{Death of Today}
His painful state of arousal did little to assist his stealth. Nevertheless, he was silent as he swept down the corridor and toward the library where his prey was currently residing. Coming to a rest within the thick shadows of the entrance, Voldemort stared steadily at the figure lounging at the table. The sight made the ache between his legs only harden in response. Then again, this child before him had a knack for igniting primitive emotions in even the most callous man.
Voldemort curled his lip upward. The boy was aware of his presence, but feigned indifference as he set aside a book and picked up another. The Dark Lord noted the position of the abandoned book. Izar tossed it aside as if it were an inconvenience, something he was finished reading. But Voldemort was no fool. He knew the boy didn't want him to take notice of the subject he was researching.
"Yes?" Izar drawled in irritation, barely sparing Voldemort a glance. Vibrant green eyes assessed him before turning away to place another book on top of the original discarded one.
It was good show, especially when the child rifled through the other stacks of books before grabbing one and leaning back in a relaxed position. A ruse that obvious could fool most men, but Voldemort found himself far more superior to 'most men'.
"I've come to congratulate you on your… remarkable success," Voldemort whispered. He entered the small library, pulled forward by the child's natural allurement. "Really, how did you manage to get your father and his lover out of the base, all the while, sitting here innocently?"
He had taken Black's captivity personally by constructing his own runes and his own wards around the condemned wizard. No one had eversnuck past his spellwork like Izar had. It shouldn't have surprised him and it hadn't. It only infuriated him to the point of thick arousal and the need to claimand possess. His fingers clenched tightly at his sides in the face of Izar's blank expression, but otherwise, he remained deadpan.
"Sitting here innocently?" Izar repeated as if it were foreign to him. The elfin face peered up at Voldemort from behind the book. "I've been busy creating another Horcrux." The boy thrust his chin in the direction of a familiar gold cup. The cup sang seductively with an undertone of cruel laughter. "One of your men must have assisted Regulus and Snape out of the base, because I have better things to do." Izar then returned to his book, ignoring the hovering Dark Lord hovering.
Despite the boy's refusal to become a Lord, Voldemort saw the ripe potential. How could he not? He had been a direct influence on the boy's life before he turned fifteen. Yet, there was one glaring weakness. The boy's political maneuvers. At the moment, Izar relied on his charm, intelligence, and arrogance to get what he wanted. Granted, many fools were led by their hormones and viewed Izar's celestial appearance as a godly attribution. In turn, Izar found success in this technique and found little use practicing the complexity that is political dancing.
Because of weakness, Voldemort knew their next phase of their immortality would be spent in a political scene. Perhaps there would be no battles, no wars, but there would be political competition in order to shape Izar accordingly. Once again, Izar would be the student and he would be the successor. In fact, it would be many years before Voldemort found Izar suited enough to fly solo—to take the reins. And by that time, Voldemort was unsure he would even want to unhook his claws from his child.
Voldemort remained watching the wizard hungrily, knowing the boy wasn't finished speaking yet.
"I'm not going to play daft with you," Izar continued. "I knew there was a reason you scheduled Regulus' and Severus' execution the next day. You wantedme to help them escape. You wanted to challenge me with your… spellwork." The boy gave a coy smile. "It's a bit sweet, really. You didn't want to kill them off, did you?" Izar glanced back down at his book.
It should have made him furious that Black and Snape weren't punished, but now that the enemy knew of Izar's immortality, it was a mute and old subject. As long as it did not go public, the boy could handle the old fool's attempts on his life. Voldemort would be hovering close by, ready to intervene if his protection was required.
Though, at the present, Voldemort decided it was past the time to take what he wanted. But what fun would that be if he didn't play first?
The Dark Lord slowly circled Izar's chair and moved closer to the original disposed book. While his body moved in said direction, his eyes and attention were engrossed on the lithe body in front of him. He blew lightly across the exposed neck of his lover, inching around the chair. He chuckled eagerly when he spied the boy's shoulders tighten marginally as Voldemort closed in on the book.
It was remarkable how well he could read his child. And even more so, at how engrossed he was with said child.
Voldemort ran a fingernail down Izar's turned cheek as the boy fabricated nonchalance. Inside, Voldemort was sure the boy was conjuring ways to manipulate him away from the book. "My child," he cooed. He pitied the boy at times. A brilliant mind like Izar was known from the inside out by a Dark Lord. When the boy hid things, it only took Voldemort one glance to uncover them.
Like now. When he had studied the boy from the entrance to the library, Voldemort had already noticed the absent Black Heir ring from the boy's hand. Izar most likely parted ways with his father for the last time this morning. It certainly explained the dark shadows in the expressive eyes, but Voldemort knew there was more to Izar's current distraction. It wasn't just his father. Could it have something to do with the book the boy was hiding?
He knew, without a doubt, it was connected with last night's episode.
Never one to displease, Izar lunged and took Voldemort's face in his hands. "You're an arrogant bastard," the boy spat before kissing him.
Sex as ways to distract? It was juvenile of Izar, yet it could have worked if the boy wasn't so determined to hide things from him. Regrettably, Voldemort pulled away and knotted his fingers in the silky mass of waves. "I've been patient enough," Voldemort growled. He tugged the boy forward and over the desk, successfully knocking the books to the ground. He was split between admiring a bent-over Izar and the books next to him.
Seething, he placed his throbbing erection against the propped up arse and began grinding ruthlessly, all the while holding Izar's head down. He ignored the words of fierce protest from his lover and glanced at the volumes. His eye automatically caught the half-covered tome about Seer.
Seer.
Voldemort removed his hand from Izar's head and grabbed the boy's slim hips before humping him. Fury and arousal intermixed as he took his aggression out on the wizard in front of him. He had a perfectly good idea what was going on with his foolish child.
{Death of Today}
Izar grimaced as waves of arousal burned his stomach. It was such a crude and subservient position to be aroused in— bent over a desk and having a scheming Dark Lord humping his clothed arse. Better yet, the door to the library was wide open for viewers to stumble across their current situation.
The younger wizard gripped the table in order to anchor himself as the dry thrusting became almost brutal. He clenched his teeth, glaring at the wall across from him. This certainly wasn't the position he wanted. In fact, they had a dealthat Izar would top the next time they had sex. Though, was this even sex?
"Getting off by something as innocent as dry humping, Tom?" Izar poked.
He got his answer as hands danced up his legs and underneath his cloak before tugging down his pants. Izar gave a sound of disbelief as Voldemort lifted his own cloak and pressed his hard member against his bare arse. The man didn't get too far, for Izar pushed himself into a standing position and elbowed Voldemort in the stomach. Of course it didn't have the desired affect Izar wanted, but he was able to turn himself away from the assault and face the man toe to toe.
Deleted Lemon
{End of lemon}
He closed his eyes, enjoying the human-like reaction coming from Voldemort as the man trembled in after-pleasure. The hands clutching at him refused to loosen and for once, Izar found he was content with that.
A nose nudged his cheek, intentionally drawing Izar up for another kiss. This whole situation seemed so… tender… far different then their earlier exchanges. While Izar enjoyed a physical battle during foreplay, he also found he enjoy this as well.
Without any remorse, he kissed the Dark Lord back, reaching up and stroking the man's hair that escaped from its confinements. He opened his eyes a sliver, studying the man's raw expression. And suddenly, he was reminded vividly of the vision he had last night. Could he really curse Voldemort to an eternity without him? Could he ignore the man's feelingsfor him and stab him in the back? Was this… did the man actually love?
Izar was painfully aware of the Gaunt ring. It all but burned the back of Izar's neck, cruelly reminding him of fate. It wasn't as if Izar was truly betraying Voldemort, was it? He was just destroying the Resurrection Stone; it had nothing to do with betrayal.
The Black heir forcibly pushed the thoughts and feelings away before burying his face back in the Dark Lord's neck.
{Death of Today}
"We need to leave," the dry voice commanded from the doorway.
Regulus stared blankly at the ring in his palm before turning an equally numb glance in the direction of the entrance. Severus stood stiffly with Aiden standing next to him. They both had a trunk next to them, indicating that they were done packing. Regulus stared at Aiden's perplexed expression before studying Severus' impassive eyes.
He looked away, unable to force himself close to Severus at the moment. While Izar claimed he did not hate Snape for going to Dumbledore about his immortality, Regulus couldn't think the same way. At least not now. Izar was the most important thing to him and Severus had intentionally put his son in harm's way. The man had gone inside Regulus' head and took with him information that was meant to remain bundled away. It was an invasion, a mere assault.
Even if Severus had intended to save Regulus from Voldemort, it hadn't worked. It just made everything messier, more complicated and dangerous. And Severus should have known by now, that Regulus would always lay down his life before he allowed harm to come to his son. And to not even discuss this with him… Severus was in the wrong. And Regulus didn't know how long it would take to forgive the man he came to love.
Regulus clutched the Black heirloom, bringing his fist to his forehead. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. It was always difficult to come to terms that his son was not a child. When Regulus was a boy at Hogwarts, fresh from graduation, he had dreamed of a family—a son. Ironic that he was given a full-fledged adult child that didn't need his father any more than he needed his mother. While there were times Izar showed signs of vulnerability, it wasn't often and Regulus was often left clueless as how to act with a grown son.
It was even harder to accept that a cruel Dark Lord had a bigger part in his son's life than Regulus did.
During his recovery, he had bitterly accepted that Izar was a Dark Wizard and inherited a great deal of the Black insanity. Izar was more in tuned with the Dark, he was able to control it skillfully whereas others only used it when necessary. He was also already a lover… to a Dark Lord. And today, Regulus had come to understand that Izar washappy about it and hadn't been manipulated into the role. He was happy being with the Dark Lord.
Merlin only knew why…
"I'm not leaving," Regulus murmured in resolve. He clutched the ring Izar had given back. This morning's rescue had happened so quickly. Regulus barely comprehended that he was following Izar and Severus out of the maze-like corridors and out of the Dark Lord's base.
They had argued over the ring. It seemed like such a foolish thing to argue over as means of farewell. Izar wanted to give him the Black Heir ring, while Regulus crossly refused. They hadn't had enough time to properly part ways and Regulus left, thinking he had won in terms of Izar keeping the ring. Only, when he arrived home, he discovered the ring in his pocket.
He stared at the Black heirloom, refusing to believe this was Izar's final goodbye.
"You cannot keep changing your mind," Severus reasoned darkly.
"I have neverchanged my mind about my son, Severus," Regulus hissed back, mindful to keep some of his temper in check with Aiden nearby. "My loyalty will always be to my family and the Dark. Just because I don't follow the Dark Lord doesn't mean I cannot feel regret over leaving Izar behind."
The tall potion's master pressed his lips together thinly. "Izar jeopardized a great deal by assisting us this morning. You cannot return the favor by staying in Britain, more particularly, you cannot return to him. It is selfish of you."
"I'm being forced into hiding by Voldemort once again," Regulus muttered more to himself than Severus. "I'm unsure if I can live that life once again. And Aiden…" his charcoal eyes swept toward the boy. Aiden was always a good child. It was difficult for Regulus to heal the boy's childhood wounds while dealing with his own pitiful life. But he tried to the best of his ability, simply because Izar asked him to. "Aiden cannot experience life on the run."
"Then you must prepare yourself for death. The Dark Lord will surely come for you."
"He won't," a quiet voice broke the grim conversation. "As long as you keep your silence and distance, the red-eyed man won't come after you."
There were times when Regulus found himself unnerved by the young child. For the most part, Aiden was a mere child who enjoyed discovering the life of magic and playing with toys. But there were also times when the boy seemed to harbor an excessive amount of wisdom any adult would envy.
Regulus sighed, looking back down at the ring on his palm. "I understand that Izar will need to move on without me, and that time most likely already came. But I told him I would never abandon him. Even if it's from a distance, without his knowledge, I will feel better being a silent observer than a runaway coward." Regulus closed his fingers over the ring. "You are free to do what you want, Severus. But I'm staying here."
{Death of Today}
Izar hunched over the library table, grunting as pure exhaustion flooded his system. The simple diary was now transferred into the faux Horcrux the Light Army would hunt after. All these Horcruxes led up to the main event. Dumbledore. The Dark Lord was sure that the Gaunt ring would lure Dumbledore out of hiding and force the Headmaster to destroy it himself. These other 'Horcruxes' were just meant to leave a breadcrumb trail.
He tapped his wand against the table, making the diary vanish and transport to its intended location. Lucius would have possession of it now, just as Izar discussed with the blond. The man would know what to do with it…
Surveying the wand in his hand, he found himself a bit forlorn over losing his original Thestral wand. The Ministry still had it, but luckily, Izar had his Phoenix wand as reserve. Much to his surprise, the brother wand to Voldemort felt far more comfortable in his hand than the Thestral had. The Phoenix wand must be a better fit for him now than his old one. He remembered feeling similar when he had 'stolen' it from Ollivander and used it to manipulate the Dark Mark.
Izar grunted again as he fell to the floor, his vision blurry. He had constructed the rest of the Horcruxes today. Bellatrix was on the way to deposit the gold cup while the diary was with Lucius. All that was left was the… ring.
The lithe wizard leaned his head against the ground, glaring up at the ceiling. He needed a shower. Voldemort's seed was still inside him and it was creeping down his legs. While he had cast a cleaning charm on himself and put his pants back on, the charm didn't reach all the way up there.
"You're disgusting, Black," Izar whispered to himself. He placed a hand over his face, intending to sleep right here…
Suddenly, as if fate had it against him, there was a loud explosion from further down the base. The entire building shook and Izar stared between his fingers. Another explosion sounded, this time, much closer to his position.
Bloody hell. They were under an attack.
