Chapter 5
Harry went down to dinner than night, still in a state of confusion. He had seen no-one in the past three hours, spending his time having a bath and attempting to regain some of the sense of calm that he had been filled with as he had woken. He was unsuccessful. The feeling had gone. It had utterly vanished without a chance of return. Harry was jittery, his body filling with shakes and nervous energy throughout those hours.
Harry had realised that there was something wrong with his situation minutes after the Dark Lord had left. He had sat in the bath, soaking in the soothing water. He must have been asleep for longer than he first assumed. Time seemed to have ticked on and Harry had not been with it. The Dark Lord had looked tired, even as he flamed with anger. His clothes had differed from those that Harry remembered seeing the last time he had been conscious. The man had changed, no matter how minutely. Time had continued. Harry was not sure how far.
Harry had sat in the bath letting himself fall deeper into his thoughts. He had thought about Fenrir. He thought about how the man must hate him now. He was sure that the man's opinion would be utterly altered. Harry was no longer the weak Death Eater, forced by his family into an undesirable position. No Harry was nowhere near that. Fenrir had seen his true self now. He had seen that Harry was nothing more than a pathetic, worthless human being. He was not even worthy of being a Death Eater. No, he was forced into deeper servitude. He was the Dark Lord's slave. A husband in only name. Fenrir would not want to speak to him again.
As Harry had exited the bath he had cast a tempus, only to be shocked at the results. Two and a half days of being utterly unconscious was not something that Harry had been expecting. Harry found himself wondering if Fenrir was okay, even though it was a certainty, in his mind, that the man would now hate him.
Harry could only sit on the bed for the next hour. He was consumed by his thoughts, the feelings of the past few days overwhelming him. Harry had still not accepted the man that he had been married to. He did not want this. He wanted to marry someone that he loved. Someone that loved him. Unbidden tears had trickled down his face as he could think of nothing more than his broken life.
With fifteen minutes left, Harry forced himself from the bed. He pulled on his robes with a dejected sigh. He was fearful of what were to happen if he did not attend the meal however an overwhelming reluctance filled him. This was not a meal he wanted to attend. He didn't want to see anyone. Most of all he did not want to see his husband.
Harry's robes matched his disheveled hair. He felt uncomfortable in the clothes. His body was still stiff, even after the bath. He made his way along the corridors, alone with his thoughts as he trudged toward the dining hall. The double doors loomed before him ominously. Harry screwed his courage and pushed open the door.
Harry's eyes instantly hit the floor as he walked through the door, unwilling to meet the scrutiny from the eyes before him. He therefore did not see the woman that came toward him. A flinch, did however, ripple through his form as the woman pulled him toward her into some sort of hug.
"Hercules" the woman shouted, her voice filled with worry and concern. It was fake. This woman had never cared about him. She had never been worried for his safety. Hercules' face was blank as he looked up at the woman before him.
"Mother" he said in little more than a whisper. His voice was emotionless. His eyes blank.
The Dark Lord sat, watching the scene. He was surprised at the reaction of his husband, to say the least. The woman had sent a letter to the Dark Lord the day after Hercules had been seen by the Medi-wizard. Voldemort had assumed that the boy had been unable to respond to the letters due to his state of unconsciousness. He had therefore told the family of Hercules' situation, absolving himself of all guilt, of course. The woman, along with her husband and second son, had been at the Manor since.
Voldemort had therefore not been expecting the look of utter disregard that filled his husband's face at the sight of his family. As the woman's arms wrapped around Hercules the boy's flinch was almost imperceptible. Yet the Dark Lord was able to see it. Seeing the boy's uncomfortable situation Voldemort called to his new husband.
"Hercules" the man's voice was loud enough as to break through the endless babble of Walburga as her hands roamed over Hercule's form.
"Come and eat" The Dark Lord knew of unsavoury family. It was not something that he wanted anyone to suffer through, especially someone that was his. For that was what Hercules was. He was the Dark Lord's.
The eyes of every Death Eater were on Hercules as he was summoned by the Dark Lord. Hercules' steps were rapid, quickly away from the family that had forced him here. Harry found himself thinking that the whole situation was oddly poetic. Here he was, stepping away from the people that had forced him into the situation in the first place.
Harry sat down next to the Dark Lord, his green eyes still glittering with apprehension. The food appeared before Harry and it was only then that he realised that he was starving. He restrained himself, waiting for the Dark Lord himself to begin his food.
Harry did not have to wait long and within minutes all his food was gone. The meal vanishing quickly into his mouth. Harry quickly looked from his plate and toward his lap, fiddling with his hands, his fingers threading one through the other. He was embarrassed for the pace of his eating, but he had not been able to stop himself. He had been far too hungry for that. His restraint had disappeared as soon as he had seen that the Dark Lord had taken his first mouthful of food.
Harry was interrupted from his thoughts as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. A shudder ran through him at the sudden contact, his eyes snapping toward the source of the hand. The Dark Lord was looking toward Harry, eyes filled with an emotion that the young man could not decipher.
"You want some more?" the Dark Lord questioned. The words may have been ones that in any other situation would have been soothing. However, the Dark Lord's words voice seemed to hold no emotion. Even though the words were an empty void, there seemed to be a spark that flickered in the dark brown eyes. Something. Something that Harry could not hope to understand.
Harry looked away. A small nod of his head the only reply he gave, as he avoided eye contact with his husband at all cost. Voldemort's fingers dug further into Harry's shoulder. A sign of possessiveness, as well as reassurance. Not for Harry, no, the reassurance was as self indulgent as everything else that the man did. The Dark Lord needed to know that Hercules was safe.
The Dark Lord, shoulder griped tighter, snapped his fingers. Less than a second passed before a small, scared looking house elf appeared. The creature had a black tunic draped across its thin shoulders, a large Slytherin crest emblazoned on its chest. Just like with the rest of the Dark Lord's possessions, house elves were marked clearly. It was clear to the world just who they belonged to.
"Hercules requires a second helping of food" the man sneered with disdain at the house elf. The thing gave a small petrified squeak before vanishing with a pop. The creature did not reaper. However within seconds a second plate of food did.
As it did so the Dark Lord dropped his hand to his side, focusing on his own food. Harry could only sit for several seconds, watching the steaming dish that had been placed before him.
"Eat" the whispered command came, casing Harry to flinch. The breath was hot on his ear. His heart hammered and he quickly picked up his cutlery and dug into the food before him.
The meal lasted only a little time more. Harry's plate was soon empty once again, as was his husbands. Voldemort did not care for the state of the other members of the dining room. If they had not eaten, that was their own fault. They should have eaten faster.
"Come Hercules" The Dark Lord growled out as he stood gracefully from the head of the table. The rest of the room had risen with him, Harry the only one left sitting. Harry gulped audibly before shooting up to a standing position, the chair behind him screeching along the tiled floor.
Lord Voldemort extended his arm to his husband. He was to escort him. Harry gently lay his arm atop that of the man that he had married before he was guided from the room. Harry was lead down a corridor, toward a room that Harry had not been in before, although that was not a surprise. There were many rooms that Harry had either not entered or did not have permission to do so. The doors crashed open.
Harry was lead to the platform that dominated the front of the room, a throne situated on the otherwise empty stage. Surrounding the pair were more sets of eyes then Harry was comfortable with. Each one seemed to crawl under his skin; insects attempting to invade his body. He felt a shudder run through him, without his permission. His hand clenched without consent. Harry's hand tightened on his husband's arm as he cast his eyes back to the floor. He hunched his shoulders and bit his lip. He hated all this attention.
Unbeknownst to Harry, the Dark Lord's attention was upon him as well, his eyes adding to the number that were already on him. Yet, they looked at him differently from the rest of them. They were not hostile and filled with suspicion. Voldemort's were far less vicious.
Voldemort finished the slow walk, with a step up onto the platform. The slow walk, the silence; it reminded Harry of a funeral march. Harry just hoped that he was not the one lying in the coffin at the end of it.
"Welcome" the Dark Lord purred out, his voice soft and yet filled with malice. The smile that pulled up the pink lips was not filled with kindness.
"My loyal followers" The Dark Lord continued. "I thank you all for your most timely arrival." Of course they had no choice. If they arrived more than a second late, the torture that followed would be beyond painful.
"As many of you know, I have recently engaged in a bonding ceremony" A murmur ran through the room. All knew this, but many had not been permitted to attend the ceremony. This was the first confirmation from their Lord that they had received. However the Dark Lord's harsh look at his followers shut them up as soon as their noise had started.
"May I introduce you to Hercules Black" The Dark Lord announced proudly. His eyes turned to the young man at his side, glued to him. They ran up and down his form with a hunger glinting in them. However the eyes soon hardened as they turned back toward the group of men and woman that stood before him.
"I'm sure that it is obvious to all of you, that Hercules belongs to me. As my husband" The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed
"he is of course" he growled out, danger radiating from every atom of his being
"off limits." The threat was clear. A serious of nods and murmurs of agreement met the man's threat.
The Dark Lord's eyes flickered across the room, as though in search of something, or someone. Evan Rosier flinched as the eyes met roamed over his figure. The newly marked Lucius Malfoy struggled to maintain his composure as he felt the accusation in those eyes burn into him. He let out a small sigh of relief as they passed by. Walden Macnair remained impassive, his years of practice making him almost immune to his Lord's stare.
The Dark Lord's gaze finally landed on Bellatrix Lestrange. Her husband stood next to her, yet it was clear that he was not the focus of their Lord's anger. Bellatrix seemed unperturbed by the gaze, if the manic smile on her face was anything to go by. She met her Lord's eyes with a reverence; a joy that spoke of deep intoxication. She was in love with the man before her. So blind she could see nothing else, could understand nothing else. Everything was about the Dark Lord. However, it was evident that the Dark Lord did not feel the same.
"However, it seems that some of my followers…were unclear on this point" the man's voice growled out in anger as his eyes met the oblivious ones of his self proclaimed, 'most loyal' follower.
It was at that moment that the Dark Lord stepped from his place. He left Hercules on the platform as his shoes clicked against the stone floor. The sound echoed off the walls, cutting through the silence like a knife. It was evident that each individual in the room knew what was going on. Each except for the woman who was under scrutiny. The crowds parted biblically. No-one wanting to get in the way of the Dark Lord's fury.
Bellatrix was soon left standing along. The Dark Lord merely inches in front of her.
"Bellatrix" he growled out. However the woman remained oblivious to the murderous intent that twinkled in her Lord's eyes.
Bellatrix's smile only widening as her Lord addressed her. It seemed that the woman was unable to comprehend her Lord's anger. She was so enthralled with him, willing to serve in absolutely any way that she could. She deemed all her actions to be ones that were helping her Lord, ones that had justification. Even as the Dark Lord spoke, it was still clear, in her mind, that she was right in all her actions. She had only been doing her duty in torturing Hercules. He was, after all, a stain on her Lord's reputation.
"Crucio" was all it took. Nothing more than a whisper and the woman was on the floor, all admiration vanishing from her eyes. It was replaced with a mixture of confusion and pain. A screech forced its way from her lips as the curse continued. Although the pain in her eyes at the realisation of her wrong doing was far greater than the physical pain that now coursed through her every atom.
The curse ended as abruptly as it came leaving a disheveled and panting Bellatrix on the floor. Her hair was flat around the red face, her eyes still filled with suffering. The Dark Lord ignored her, the whimpers of despair falling on deaf ears.
"Get her out of my sight." The words were not spoken to anyone in particular but the scurry of movement that followed the command showed that the words were definitely heard. The Dark Lord didn't even spare the woman a glance before he turned his attention back to where Harry still stood.
"Come Hercules" the man demanded before turning and leaving the room. Harry followed quickly being him, utterly dazed by the scene that had just played out before him.