End of the two-shot. I hope you're ready for the ride.

Today was a snowy day. The temperature continuously dropping even though it was not December yet had been an obvious sign for every student in the castle. A set of warming charms had quickly spread among each House when the cold became unbearable as days passed. Quidditch was even more fun like this. Flying through the thin flakes falling from the sky, Allen enjoyed the taste of ice on his tongue, head lifted upwards while his friends were cheerfully spinning around him. The practice had been interrupted by the weather that had had the team quickly distracted. So instead of chasing after the quaffle and the snitch, the players were just casually flying like children around the pitch to appreciate the snow.

The red and gold attire floated in the light breeze in his back. Gazing at the sky, Allen marvelled at the limitless sight above. It was like a sweet murmur beckoning anyone to come closer, to fly towards the cotton screen coloured in a light grey similar to what his brother once gave him a taste of. Something called candyfloss. A smile appeared upon his lips, only to be quickly replaced by a frown at the memory. Thinking about Harry triggered all sort of emotions lately.

It has been three weeks since he received a note from his parents, forbidding him from sending his brother letters from now on. There had been very few mysterious details in the message. James and Lily had stopped sending replies after that. It had been driving Allen crazy for days.

Having no idea what was going on kept him unfocused for most of his classes, to the point of getting two detentions by the Defence and Ancient Runes teachers. The headmaster had been extremely ecstatic when he'd heard about it, and deviously removed plenty of house points and adding another detention in order to, he quotes, "help him clear his mind while having the opportunity of being useful and not actually a burden for once." It was so unfair. There was nothing worse than cleaning dozen of shitty toilets and cauldrons by hand, and wandering in the forest at night to retrieve supposedly "important" ingredients (a bunch of yellow boletuses, pixie's dung, some oak barks– and plenty other crap Snivellus could've gotten a hand on only for a bloody handful of knuts— but noooo, let's send the attention-whore Potter dirty his hands and almost get crush by a troop of centaurs just to see him rightfully suffer!) for Potions class! Even as a Gryffindor, his bravery had limits, thank you.

He continued to drew little circles in the sky until a sudden wheeze pulled him out of his musing. He ducked in time to avoid the bludger, barely missing his skull. Allen glared at the culprit he recognized as his Divination neighbour near the goalposts.

"Sorry Allen, my hands slipped."

"Take that smirk off your ugly face, Christopher, and I'll see if I believe your bullshit."

The other's lips parted even wider. "I don't know what you're talking about?"

"Come here, you bastard!" Allen leaned forward on his broom and started a chase with his comrade which ended in a snowball fight ten minutes later.

In the end, the whole team had to take a warm shower to remove the icy feeling off their frozen skin, caused by the melting flakes on their clothes. None of them had had the brilliant idea of casting a drying charm, thus resulting to every one of them -except for the only female in the team gifted with a little more braincells- shivering and sneezing every minute when they walked into the Great Hall. The ceiling was a perfect reflection of the sky outside. The same grey, foggy screen delivering beautiful particles of white without actually falling over the students.

"Hey, Potter," Jacob greeted and sat beside him. "Ready to crush the Slytherin team next week?"

"When am I not ready to beat those scheming snakes?"

"True, true."

A hazel-haired girl with squared glasses perched on her nose took the seat in front of Allen, sighing heavily. "You will never believe what happened."

"Let me guess. Did you get turned down by the handsome, good-looking, don't-talk-to-me-if-you-can't-obtain-at-least-EE-marks-Justin for the tenth time?" Jacob inquired while filling his plate with some potatoes.

"Worse! Freaky Walter asked me to be his date for the Yule ball! Freaky Walter! Not only is Yule not before another month, but do you imagine one second what kind of horrible picture I had in mind at this moment?!"

"Franky is a good guy," Allen muttered, eyeing the sandy blond-haired boy, just in time to watch him wipe his nose, look at the sticky mucus smeared on his hand, clean it off on his school robe and rake his fingers into the greasy hair as if nothing was wrong.

Having followed the line of Allen's gaze, Selene rolled her eyes. "See?"

"Well, it doesn't change the fact he is a good guy."

"Then by all means, go and date him. I'm not going to stop you."

"I bet you won't," Jacob laughed and Allen suppressed a sigh.

The rest of the lunch passed rather slowly. Allen used the constant buzzing of the huge hall as a background noise to divert his thought towards Harry and his family. There had been no words from one or the other since the last letter delivered to him. All he knew was that Harry had to live somewhere else in the muggle world for a long period of time, and that the situation seemed quite serious. What kept the youngest Potter relieved to some extent, was that there was no headline titles about a Seer popping out of nowhere on the news. At least his brother's secret was safe.

But it still wasn't enough for him to vanish the worry completely out of his system.

Paying no mind to the atmosphere, Allen did not notice the background chatting abruptly coming to a halt. Hushed murmurs rose around the tables. It was only when Jacob's elbow started poking at his sides that the boy returned to reality. Raising his head from his plate, he saw Snape in front of the huge doors. The headmaster hadn't changed at all over the years at Hogwarts. He had the same hooked nose and the unchanged straight, greasy black hair falling just above the shoulders. The austerity of the whole castle could match the one emanating from the man's poise.

Such a drama queen. No wonder he was most of the student's worst nightmare. He had the appearance of a demon in a constantly-stiff skined human being.

Snape's eyes scanned the tables until they met his. The second after that, he made his way toward him. Huh?

The expression on the headmaster's face was anything, but reassuring. But then again, when was Snape anything other than serious and dramatically antagonistic?

"What did you do?" someone whispered sharply.

Allen shook his head. He had absolutely no clue. He'd completed his last detention the day before, and no teacher had complained about him since the beginning of the week. There was absolutely no reason for Snape to seek him out. No reason at all.

"Potter," he called gravely as he came up behind him.

"Sir?"

The man appeared a bit pale. Paler than normal. Allen first thought it was just the usual scowl on his face emphasized by the artificial lights of the Hall, but then he saw the headmaster's jaw clench, slightly hesitating. What's going on.

"Come in my office right this instant. You are excused for the rest of your classes today."

"Huh?"

"Now, Potter!"

Jumping out of the bench, Allen abandoned his food and his friends to follow the headmaster across the Hall under the curious gazes of every single students. The trip through the long corridors didn't last long enough for the boy to try calming his chaotic thoughts. They were in front of the headmaster office in no time at all, and Allen had to suppress a gulp before his stomach decided to perform a set of somersaults due to stress. They entered the big room, lightened and cleaned of any dust despite all the centuries it's endured until now. The door closed up with a click. Allen was still admiring the office he'd rarely had the occasion to explore, until he became aware of the third presence calmly settled in the headmaster's chair.

A presence he would've immediately recognized, if it weren't for the strong heaviness in the air that had had the boy almost suffocating as soon as he felt it.

It was the first time Allen saw the Dark Lord this close. The countless pictures did not do him justice. The man looked genuinely better in person. More dangerous. More powerful. Not believing his eyes, the teen blinked several times before the realization hit him from inside. His legs shook under him. He couldn't help but fall on his knees under the fear and the dark magic engulfing every part of the office.

Now he understood Snape's strange behaviour.

"Allen Potter."

"M-my… Lo...rd." The weight of the air was such that it was impossible for him to talk properly. It didn't seem to matter to Voldemort who delicately get up from the chair and walked around the large desk.

"Let's skip the formalities to get straight to the point. I am here to question you about your brother."

Despite the coldness submerging his body in frozen terror, Allen straightened up suddenly. "W-what?"

"Your brother, Harry Potter. I figured you parents have no clue where he is right now. So, I thought maybe the youngest son might have some ideas. Tell me, Mr. Potter."

"I,I..."

What was happening? How… Why Voldemort wanted to know about Harry? How was he aware of his parents' lack of knowledge regarding Harry's whereabouts? He did not know what to think. Neither was he able to form a coherent response as everything became a chunk of confusion, messily interlocked in his head. He remembered the letter three weeks ago. The words telling him of something important occurring about his brother, then the silence of every member of his family that left him with nothing but worry and mysteries.

All of this was related to Voldemort. It had to. Otherwise, the dark lord would never come in person to interrogate an ordinary fourth year.

"Do you know how to speak, Mr. Potter?"

He swallowed and did his best not to look at the Dark Lord's reddish gaze as he replied, "Why do you… want to know?"

He heard a slight intake of breath somewhere behind. Probably Snape. The man grumbled something almost inaudible, but Allen managed to catch the words "stupid Gryffindor" among other mumbling.

"Curious, aren't you?"

Without lifting his head, Allen felt the man coming closer. It was like a handful of oxygen taken away at each step. "Unfortunately, your presence here is not to ask questions, but answer mine."

One hand grabbed him by the throat without warning. Fingers sank into the skin like the claws of a hungry predator. "Tell me everything you know."

He would not take no for an answer. Allen had absolutely no choice but to comply. Trying to gather as much air as he could between the heavy pressure of magic and the one clenched around his throat, Allen spoke, "I don't… know anything! I, I got a message… from my father three weeks… ago."

Breathing grew harder over the seconds. "He said something about… Harry. That- that I couldn't send him letter anymore… for now. I don't know where… where he is right now, I swear!"

"Do you have an address?"

"No- I mean… Yes, but not anymore- he moved out, according... to what I've been told..."

"Show me."

The boy found himself unable to stop the shaking of this limbs as the gleaming gaze pinned him with its intensity. He didn't want to tell the Dark Lord something that would give a lead on his brother. Harry was hiding from Voldemort, he was sure of that now. And for the sake of his family, the boy mentally swore not to help this man get his hand on Harry.

He was a fucking Gryffindor, for heaven's sake. Even shaking in fear, Allen would do anything to keep his brother safe, dark lords be damned.

"D-do you need… some paper..?" That way he could maybe accidentally write the wrong number, mistaken a letter for another, or something. The dangerous smile Voldemort had on his lips told Allen he was not going to like what was to come.

"There will be no need for that." Damn it.

"N-no..?"

"Legilimens."

No sooner had he uttered this word that he entered directly the boy's head without any resistance. Contrary to what he expected, Allen's mind was strikingly calm. The lack of protection inside made it easier for the Dark Lord to plunge even further. The minds he used to penetrated before were not as peaceful as this one. This one was like a sleeping ocean with relaxing wave effects. Everything was so bright. Snippets of memories and images appeared here and there in the mist as clear as the winter sky.

If this boy was gifted with elemental affinity, it would definitely be water.

Voldemort forced himself to pursue the goal of this intrusion. He'll have all the time to admire the rest of this pure, beautiful soul as soon as he's done chasing his little squib. He picked up random piece of memories, passing those that had nothing to do with Harry, and watched hungrily the ones containing the subject of his obsession within.

Going through the layers of images, he travelled from memory to memory which appeared in a regular chronology. The more he meddled in the most intimate moments with Allen and his family, the more he felt the surroundings wavering and the sense of alertness all around him. Good. He was close. He went into another memory. And another. Until one of them made him stop on his track and had the man totally intrigued by what he saw. The illusory mist turned into a violent, thick whirlwind as Voldemort kept watching the undisclosed secret the Potters had been hiding all those years.

He had sensed something amiss when he dived into James and Lily's heads the other day. There had been a solid wall, a barrier so thick he'd have not been able to break without breaking their mind along. And Voldemort needed the two of them intact for now.

He knew Harry was special. As soon as he met those eyes blazing in green fire, he had been aware of the boy's presence all along. The fact he'd been literally kicked out of his mind even before he could attempt the slightest intrusion had been a sign of his singularity. A sign claiming that boy had to be his.

His body began to shake with a vicious glee, taking over the agonizing cry vibrating through the destructive whirlwind. The gryffindor's subconscious was aware of the seriousness of the situation, Allen had felt the horror of the terrible secrets being ruthlessly peeled off when the Dark Lord invaded the only memory he was blocking out with all his might. Excruciating distress caused the mental place to shatter. The false sky began to tore, forming multiple cracks forming lines in every direction at breakneck speed. The wholly grey broke into pieces of glass that crumbled everywhere.

Voldemort regained the sensation of his body. The boy was left trembling on the floor, crying and sobbing in silence in his semi-consciousness. Snape had not utter a word. He stood at the corner of the office, looking completely unconcerned about what just happened, if it wasn't for the small twitch of the jaw while his gaze remained fixed on the youngest Potter.

The magic in the room was burning with exhilaration. A smile turned into a chuckle, the chuckle then turned into a burst of laughter impossible to contain for a long minute.

A Seer.

Harry Potter was a Seer.

How convenient. That was the reason Voldemort, master of Legilimency, could not penetrate a sliver of this thoughts. That was why the boy chose to live like a hermit, mingling among muggles as if he were one.

Oh, no. He would never allow it. Harry Potter was his, and it was time for the slippery little squib to accept this unspoken truth.

"Severus. I want you to gather my Inner Circle's most faithful tonight. I have a mission for all of them from today onward."

"As you wish, my Lord."

He could run all he wanted, the boy won't be able to hide forever. But who was Voldemort to refuse a delicious little hunt?

By the time things went back to normal, winter had shown its teeth. Snow overlaid most of the town now. Going out without at least three layers of clothes was seen as significantly suicidal. The icy wind bit him on every parts he couldn't cover, and the young man had to suppress a shiver at every single cold attack. He hated winter. It was constantly grey and sad, the weather never changed, whether it rained or snowed. The sun lost all of its warmth and usefulness, especially when it turned the cotton white into absolutely disgusting brown slush.

He should have stayed in London. As cold as the capital could be, at least the climate did not drop close to -5°C every day there.

He took a long drag of a cigarette. The smoke stimulated his senses and Harry relished in the toxic warmth descending down his lungs. He couldn't distinguish the steam of breath from the tobacco smoke when it came out of his mouth. He rarely smoked before. He used to take a few drags from his friend's cigarettes to pass the time at first, but when the boredom changed to continual anxiety, Harry kept smoking like his life depended on it.

Now, the daily dose of nicotine helped him ease the hurt in the chest whenever his family appeared in the back of his mind.

"Evans! Perfect timing, I was looking for you."

He didn't even look at the girl who just interrupted his small moment of peace. He let out a chuckle. "Stalking me even during breaks now, Leila?"

"I wouldn't have to if you'd just stop being so stubborn."

"And I told you my answer is still no."

"You can't refuse. Everyone want a piece of the new student. It is my duty to take you to the party so that all of us can get to know the antisocial git you are, while you get to know how great and funny your comrades can be."

"What exactly don't you get in the 'antisocial git' part?" he said, rising an amused eyebrow as he looked at her for the first time since the start of the discussion. Leila puffed. She liked to think she could be intimidating sometimes, as required by her role as the head of the student committee. But unfortunately for her, Harry wasn't the kind of person to be easily impressed. In fact, he found this semblance of authority quite amusing every time he interacted with the girl.

Thus explaining the countless arguments they'd had since the end of the first semester.

"It's been three months already!"

"And?"

"And we still don't know what you like or dislike, your habits, what you want to achieve after graduation, and whatnot!"

"Well, it's not a bad thing. I have my antisocial git position at stake after all."

"Ugh. You are infuriating, Evans."

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment."

"I'm aware."

He did his best to contain a laugh at the other's expression. He could literally see her ears fuming in the cold air like an engine steam while Leila tried to keep her composure. "Come to the party this weekend," she said finally.

"I think I stated my opinion on the matter five times already."

"I won't give up."

"Jeez!" Harry sighed. He squashed the tip of his cigarette against the wall before throwing it in the big metal ashtray designed for this. "I'll think about it, okay? I promised my flatmate to help him fix his old motorbike and I'll be quite busy, so I'll give it a thought or two but don't expect anything."

"… Still better than a simple no I guess."

"If you got no other business with me, can I go to the bathroom without being followed by the insistent, annoying little stalker you are?"

"Why, Evans. I didn't know you liked me that much."

"Trust me, I do."

"Well then. I'll leave you alone for now." Thank God for small mercies. "The theme is Venice Carnival, by the way. See you at the party Evans."

… Damn it.

-#-

His life had been utterly chaotic the day he left Potter manor for the last time. The first thing he did when he returned in his old flat was to burn and throw away every trace of him, then pack all necessaries stuff to move out in Thomas' who had accepted to take him in for a little while. His next move was to transfer to another university located in the north of England, far away from London where he could be easily tracked down at any corner of the streets.

It hadn't been so simple and Harry had had difficult times to accommodate into his new life. He even made the request to take his mother's name in case Voldemort's forces managed to find some leads about a young Potter travelling across the country. He didn't want to take any risk. There had been no news of the Dark Lord or anything regarding the wizarding world. Nothing from his parents as planned, and of course nothing from Allen either. Harry lived in his little bubble of peace, or what he liked to think was peace. The hardest part of all of this was behind now, he could continue his life normally for the remaining few years of escapade.

He hoped the distance was going to be bearable for a while. Harry was used to be away from home because of his muggle studies since elementary school, but at that time he knew he'd be seeing his family again at the end of terms. Even when he started staying at the school dormitory and then at his old flat, he came back to the manor every holiday period. They wrote to each other every weeks. Now though… all he would be doing was find a temporary job, merely bond with his new classmates and stay alone most of the time.

He had to get used to it. For now, at least.

He sincerely hoped they were safe while he was running away from Voldemort. No words from them was as relieving as it was extremely worrying. What if they were under torture right now to spit out his location? What if Allen's stay at Hogwarts had been compromised because of Harry? What if they… what if they'd been killed?

No no no. They were safe. They had to be.

He stopped in front of his apartment building to press the code on the keypad. Upon entering the small vestibule, a violent shiver ran down his spine, shaking him from head to toe. He frowned. Was it that cold inside?

Adam better had put the heater on or Harry was going to kill him. His flatmate knew all to well how much he couldn't stand the cold. Savings be damned, he didn't want to wake up stuck in an ice cube in the middle of the night. He opened the door of his flat, immediately hit by a horrendous smell abruptly invading all his senses. What the bloody hell?

"Leo!" he called at the doorway.

Was it another one of his cooking attempt? No, he made him swear never to try cooking again after the fiasco last month. He'd barely ended up at the hospital due to food poisoning.

"Leo!"

Where was the bastard? The fragrance was absolutely unbearable. It was a wonder how none of the neighbours had come knocking at their door to ask for some explanation about this yet. Covering his nose and mouth with his scarf. The odour grew even more abominable as Harry approached the living room. He walked in.

"You prick! What do you think you—" The rest got stuck in his throat at the sight he was greeted with.

Never in his life Harry had seen so much red. It was a colour he'd always been fond of since he was little. A colour of passion. Of love. The same shade all Gryffindors were wearing, that House of lions to which he always had imagined he would've belonged, had his life been different.

While the crimson colour covered every part of the walls and floor, the ones on his face drained almost instantly. He felt his veins freeze from inside, turning his entire body into a frigid statue as he could not divert his gaze from the hanging corpse suspended in the middle of the living room.

Beads of dark blood dripped from the lethal gashes running across the skin of his chest and stomach, from where bits of what he imagined were organs could be seen through the horrible tore tissues that once were neat attires. Leo's favourite. He regretted letting his eyes pursuing their ascent as soon as his gaze met the blond's face.

He didn't know when his body started to tremble, nor when he regained the control of his movements. But at this exact moment, Harry couldn't take it anymore and ran straight to the toilets with great difficulty. Shaking like a newborn, he let himself stumble over the bowl and threw up the little food he'd had at lunch.

No.

No, no, no. It couldn't be true. It was a dream. Another vision perhaps? But it was so real. So, so real. His head hurt. The smell remained putrid and utterly vile in the air, and that was the moment Harry realized it was blood combined with dark magic that were invading his nose and mouth, even more repulsive than his own vomit. And Leo's expression… The evil smirk drawn on his face, bloody and unmoving… Only dark magic was able of such a thing.

That meant…

"Oh God, no..."

Wizards. Wizards had been here. They brutally killed his flatmate and made a fucking piece of art out of Leo's corpse. It was a message. Harry Potter had been found. And the realization of this fact made him retch again as a sharp cry escaped his mouth, desperate.

He knew.

He knew- he knew- Voldemort knew! His limbs still a trembling mess, he ran into his bedroom and automatically looked for his backpack. All he could think of, among panic and images of Leo smirking in his death, was to run. He was barely conscious of his movements. He just wanted to be far away from this place, from the danger, from the hanging corpse dripping blood on the living room's carpet.

His mind was a chaotic mess. What if they wanted to ambush him and came across Leo instead? What if they went to look for him and were about to come back here any time? How did they even know where he lived? Even his parents didn't know where—

He stopped.

His parents.

Allen…!

He searched for the golden Galleon hidden in a wooden box buried under a mass of clothes. It was where he had hidden several souvenirs from his former home, including photos and other small gifts he's been offered on several occasions. Squeezing the portkey vigorously, Harry waited for the magical device to sweep him away. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. He stayed still until he reached ten seconds and finally realized nothing was happening.

Was it broken..? No, it couldn't be.

He could feel the slight buzzing brushing over the golden coin. It trembled in his hands but did nothing else. The understanding got his breath stuck in his chest.

Anti-Apparition wards.

"Fuck!" He grabbed his backpack and ran toward the exit. He couldn't stay here any longer.

He violently fought against the reflex to turn towards the crime scene when he passed by the living-room. It was horrible. Completely inhuman. The Death Eaters thought they had the right to treat muggles like this for the simple fact they had no magic. Because they were supposed to stand beneath wizards. A wave of burning anger took shape inside of him, slowly taking over the tremendous fear that'd been clinging his body. They had no right. If only Harry had magic instead of those damn visions…! He'd then have the possibility to make them pay.

But he was completely powerless against them.

He had to at least do something about this. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he was already leaving the building when he finished composing the police number.

He didn't give them time for introduction. "Help! Someone's been murdered! Please come to 67 Church Street, flat number—"

The device went flying in the air before he could finish. It landed on the pavement, dispersing pieces of plastic at the impact. He turned just in time to avoid a red light aimed right at him. A familiar, dreadful cackling rose from behind, provoking a slow shiver through his spine. Harry watched with horror the form of Bellatrix Black joyfully chasing him, joined with several other wizards who appeared out of nowhere.

He kept running, still unable to activate the portkey despite the distance he was putting between him and the building. How far away did they placed the wards from?

"Come and play, Squibby Potty!"

He rolled on the ground as another hex came flying above his head. He barely paid attention to the people he involuntarily pushed aside to make his escape. None of the bystanders saw the group of dark robed wizards throwing curses at him, nearly missing them in the process.

His lungs were burning under the sudden effort. Harry had no choice but to keep running endlessly until he could get out of the anti-Apparition wards.

A curse exploded in his back. It sent him flying like his phone earlier, and Harry came crashing in a deserted alley away from the crowd. A sharp pain made him see white for a second. He let out a cry as he tried to crawl on his stomach. He had definitely broken something. Cursing through his ragged breath, the boy kept crawling on the ground, the previous feeling of rage changing back into terror when he heard steps entering the alley.

The Death Eaters came closer.

The raven-haired boy shifted his position so that he could put a hand in his jacket pocket. Fingers gripped the golden coin inside. A throbbing jolt radiated from the portkey. It was his chance.

"Potter Manor!"

Everything became blurry. He felt his body being sucked through space. As in every Apparition, he felt as if he was being repeatedly compressed and decompressed for a millisecond that seemed to last several minutes. He stumbled into a familiar surrounding. His home. Falling on the ground again, Harry had to bit his lips to contain a howl of pain. "Sally!"

Although coming back here filled him with joy and relief despite the situation, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling of wrongness impregnated in the atmosphere. His stomach still weak from the horror and the running he experienced just now, he did his best to contain the rest of the bile threatening to come out in his throat. He had to make sure his parents weren't in danger.

"Sally!"

One hand placed over his belly, carefully avoiding his ribs, the eighteen year old boy let go of the backpack and walked through the long hallways, back hunched over in pain. He passed some portraits– non-magical portraits– whose eyes gave the impression of following his every moves.

Allen must be at Hogwarts. Yule ended a month ago, the terms must have began at the beginning of January like it used to.

Harry stopped suddenly.

Sally never appeared in the end. Magically tied to their masters, it was impossible for house elves to ignore one of them when called. Harry's heart ran wild. He started to walk faster.

"Mum? Dad! Allen!" There was no response as the boy strode the corridors, his legs limping in the process. "Everyone!" The echo of his cries was the only indication of him being completely alone within these walls. It wouldn't have been so worrying if Sally had appeared right when he called her. Something was wrong.

Unable to make any more steps at the risk of fainting, the boy entered the closest room he could reach. The kitchen remained as it was before he left. It was as though time had frozen within the whole manor during his absence. Everything was clean, utensils and dishes stored at the right place like they hadn't been used at all.

He couldn't tell whether it was the stabbing pain in his ribs or the feeling of emptiness that allowed all sorts of restless thoughts to fill him up that caused Harry to be so much distracted. Perhaps, in different circumstances, he would have noticed the darkness soaking the room and the entire manor all together. Perhaps he would have noticed it immediately after he Apparated. Perhaps he would have right away become aware of the presence comfortably settled in the corner of the kitchen.

The recognition was so sudden, he nearly hit the counter when he startled upon realizing just who sat merely meters away from him. He should have known, really. But still… he'd hoped it was just a bad feeling.

"You..!? What– How did you…?"

He watched as the man delicately put his cup of coffee on the table- where did it come from?- and slowly, smugly looked at Harry who couldn't take his eyes off the one he thought he would never see ever again. "Hello to you too, Harry."

Whether because of pain or dismay, his voice sounded hoarse as he spoke, "You can't be– You…! No way."

"As eloquent as you brother, I see. You two really are related, there's no doubt about that."

The mention of Allen made his blood froze. Regaining a bit of composure, he glared. "What did you do to my brother?! Where are my parents? Answer me!"

Chuckling, Voldemort stood up from the chair. Harry tensed, immediately on guard. "Don't worry Harry. Your questions will be answered in due course. After all, time won't matter anymore now that I finally have you with me."

No, no no…

Cold sweat crept down his spine. "Don't call me that."

"I will call you whatever I desire, Harry Potter. Or is it Harry Evans now?"

An invisible weight came to press against his chest, getting heavier and heavier as the man poured out his sweet venom while speaking. One step at a time, he began to shorten the distance between them.

"How did you know…?" About the place. The portkey. The name.

"I must say, you were really hard to track down. You did an amazing good job getting away from my radars. Even rummaging your family's mind gave no clue about your location."

Harry saw red. Ignoring the stinging pain clamped to his ribs, he pounced on Voldemort without warning. His fists pulled the collar of his robe, fury passing through his blazing green orbs. He suddenly didn't care it was the Dark Lord in front of him. He only saw a madman responsible for a murder, who just admitted to have hurt his family even if not physically.

His emotions were in turmoil, he no longer knew how to react. One moment he was frozen in terror, and next the rage made him lose his mind. A boy had been horribly murdered in his living-room, he had been attacked by Death Eaters in broad daylight, he didn't know where or how Allen and his parents were and now he had a bloody Dark Lord in his kitchen, acting as if the man owned the whole world- and maybe he did, in a sense.

Harry wanted to cry, to scream and beat the shit out of Voldemort right here. Maybe the three at once. His fist was grabbed before he could land a hit. He lost his balance and Voldemort took this opportunity to pull the boy and pinned him on the counter surface. No wand needed. Only brute strength and natural control over Harry's emotions.

"Let me go!" he tried to fight the hands binding his on the table, to no effect.

"Now, Harry. Let's have a little chat now that I have you precisely where I wanted."

"W-what?"

"You see, snooping into your little brother's head has proven to be particularly fruitful. Poor you. You've been so careful all those years, but you forgot that nothing can escape my notice. Especially when it comes to minds."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

Smiling like the devil, Voldemort leaned forwards, breath ghosting over Harry's ear.

"Are you sure, little Seer?" the man hissed, revelling in the boy's expression

From the moment Voldemort uttered the word, Harry's world shattered completely. The infinitesimal hope he was clinging to in order to try to get out of this disastrous situation vanished along with his breath. Eyes wide open, his face was drained of all its colours in no time. His heart abruptly started beating again like hammer strokes against his chest.

He felt blood coming up his brain, creating a buzzing chaos inside while the boy's vision began to flickered. Eyes burning with triumph, Voldemort watched as Harry started hyperventilating underneath him. He let his fingers caress the side of the raven-haired squib in a falsely affectionate manner. "I knew there was something special with you from the moment our eyes met. I knew I had to take you away from the outside world."

He placed a kissed on the teen's face, letting the salty taste of tears moisten his lips.

"You may have succeeded in escaping my claws for a long time, but it ends now. You're mine, Harry."

Harry seemed to have regained a sliver of his senses at some point during his fit of terror. Still panting as the boy forced himself to steady his shaken respiration, he tried again to free his hands, to move his legs so as to push the evil wizard away from him.

"Where is my family?"

Voldemort hummed, lowering his face down his neck. "They're well and alive, for now," he said and smiled when he felt the other tense.

"Where are they?" Harry repeated, voice dry.

"Don't test my patience Harry. They may be in good shape right now but it can change at any time. I only need to say a word and you might never see them again. Your parents are ready to be tortured as we speak, and they will be so if you don't cooperate."

"Don't touch them!"

"It will depend on your answer. Submit, and they're going to be fine. Keep fighting and see what kind of cruelty I'll gladly inflict upon your devoted family."

"You son of a bitch—"

"Crucio."

He didn't even see Voldemort take out his wand. The previous pain of his ribs was nothing compared to this atrocious agony. He convulsed under the dark lord, back arching as though to escape the endless suffering that felt like a raging fire spreading through all of his nerves at once. It ended quickly, but it was largely enough to shut him up for a while.

"While I appreciate your defiance, I will not tolerate blatant disrespect."

Harry coughed. His body was jolting with nervous spasms, still under the cruciatus' after effects.

"I will… never… be yours!"

He had to admit, this boy was very strong-willed. That stubbornness of his was almost breathtaking, and it was certainly something to admire. Voldemort didn't mind a bit of fighting, it was what made things even more interesting for his part.

"Won't you?" he smiled.

"I will... fight you until the day I die. I swear it."

The gleam in the crimson orbs became even more intense. Harry could feel the mixture of dark magic and lust enveloping them both in an invisible thick fog almost suffocating.

"Oh," his sides were grabbed in a possessive manner, "we will see about that."

He pressed their lips together. Harry didn't have time to gasp. Tired and considerably weakened due to the unforgivable he'd experienced less than a minute ago, Harry was totally powerless when the man forced his way inside his mouth, exploring, controlling with the merciless tongue reducing the squib to a protesting, shivering mess.

There was no tenderness in the kiss. No love, not even an ounce of passion. Only dominance. Control. Power. So much power.

White fog filled Harry's eyes, and the boy was suddenly drifting into the same vision that had him submerged into an inescapable fear for months until this day. A fear that has crossed space and time to become ingrained in his reality. And again, somewhere in the depth of his mind as the not-so-illusory images slowly faded, as Harry came back into his body and let the despicable Dark Lord have his way with him, he wondered; why didn't his Sight prevent his life to turn into hell when it had the power to?

What would be the point of possessing this cursed Gift if it were to end this way?

On those last thoughts, Harry barely reacted when he felt himself being whisked away through space, held within the dark lord's arms.

.

.

.

The abundant heat was spread all over the room. Fragrance of incense impregnated every particle of air which was already full with whimpering cries and powerful magic. The last two years had been considerably conducive for the Dark lord and his empire. Every last of the rebels had been arrested and none of them had been spared. Executions had followed one after the other for days, months, Voldemort savouring every single death with triumph. He forced Harry to watch the deadly shows after the boy had unwillingly helped him to unearth each of the criminals.

Yes, he used the boy to decimate all of them. Ruthlessly. Harry had been quite reluctant at first, what with his guilty conscious and whatnot, especially when he had known some of the rebels were former friends of his parents who decided to oppose the Dark Lord until the very end. But Voldemort held the sword of death and torture above the Potters heads, and that was what always had the beautiful squib capitulate in the end.

Blood magic and several rituals had been of a great help for this. Harry was now trained to enter a vision whenever Voldemort wanted him to. And wasn't it truly delectable?

Harry had fought. All this time, he remained true to his words and refused to break. Oh, he'd fought. Tooth and nail, most often literally speaking. He was still fighting right now, writhing under him while he was ravaging the beautiful Seer to oblivion.

Tears of fury and despair misted his green eyes, the pearls of light making those orbs as bright as the jewels covering his neck, wrists and ankles. He was completely stunning. As much by the boiling rage dancing in his eyes as by the resigned and shame-filled expression he had as he gradually succumbed to the pleasure the man he was loathing with all his might was giving him. Only Voldemort could see him like this. Only he could watch the tears, the deep hatred, the blood on his lips left after a biting as he vainly tried to suppress a series of moans.

Moans which only he could hear.

Harry Potter was his. Nothing and no one will have the power to change this fact.

He thrust into him for the umpteenth time this night, welcoming another cry of pain that quickly transformed into a whine of unwanted bliss. He could not get enough of this. What began with a vicious desire for the Potter squib had quickly become a sudden obsession impossible to get rid of as Voldemort made Harry his again and again every day for weeks, months and years.

Time was meaningless in the presence of his favourite. And it was then that the thought suddenly led him to something even darker...

Harry was in the prime of his youth. Young, lively, terribly enticing, and possessed a gift that made him even more precious than anyone else in the world. Voldemort certainly wouldn't mind having this jewel for eternity.

"What are your thoughts about horcruxes, Harry?"

The only answer he got were muffled sounds.

He went on nonchalantly, "I can make you one, so that Death would never touch you. We could live forever while I make the entire world mine and we'd be worshipped by every single human on this planet until Life completely ceases to exist. What do you think?"

Still no response. Either Harry wasn't listening, or he was deliberately ignoring him. His intuition leaned toward the latter. He rocked his hips, hard. Harry jolted.

"N-no…! I don't… want to be- ahh- immortal with… you!"

"It's a shame."

No matter, he had all the time in the world to convince his precious Seer. While he was thinking about which item would fit the soul of his little squib the best, Voldemort felt the boy clench around him. The whimpers grew more desperate, his muscles tenser than they already were. A smirk parted the man's lips, who then leaned down Harry's neck, kissing it before reaching the earlobe. Voldemort's whisper was like sweet poison coursing through his system.

"Your brother would make a perfect sacrifice."

Harry came with a cry of white fury and desperation. Voldemort's laughter pierced the air with a deafening cruelty. His laughter continued to haunt Harry's mind as he kept defiling his precious Seer who will never taste freedom ever again.

The end.

.

I forgot to tell you it was going to be a bad end... I had put the tag on Ao3 but I chose to keep the element of surprise... I hope you liked it.
What did you think? :)