Pushed into the Darkness

Thanks to Chy (being my Beta) and to Boogum (for giving me some ideas on the script). Inspired by the Daredevil comics -- the King of Hell's Kitchen story line.

Chapter 02:

There was a slight delay in Harry's re-acquaintance with the estate he was residing in with his lover, the Dark Lord. Before, it had not been quite so elaborate -- this time it was fully established in the area, protected by countless numbers of wards and charms. The stairs where one of the hardest things do go down, but a little easier when going up, since the side of the stairs that was accompanied by railing changed size to accommodate the spiral of the staircase itself. In addition, since he had been absent from the other half of his soul for so long, the now-blind young man had to re-learn everything; learn how to kiss again, how to embrace the other again, how to make love again, and lastly, how to even sleep in peace again. Once he had learned how to do these things again, he preferred to stay in the rooms with his soul mate, out of view from the Death Eaters he had at one time worked with as a team.

What had happened in his stay away from the estate was almost completely washed away from his mind once he spent enough time in the place he had coveted since being taken away that one night. He couldn't believe that it had already been over a year since he was here the last time, getting ready for the raid that he would be caught on by the Ministry's wonderful aurors that treated him like the whole rest of the wizarding world wanted to. The memories still had a slight hold in his mind, but he wished and wished that they would just disappear altogether.

"I've missed you so greatly, Tom," he whispered, ever so softly into the crook of the other's smooth, soft neck, as he took in the all too familiar scent of his cologne. "Have I ever told you that that cologne you wear is so wonderful?"

"I don't believe that you have," the other returnedas Harry felt longer, thin fingers carding through his longer hair.

"Now it just seems to stand out all the more. I suppose it has to do with only having four senses?"

"Hmn..." The unfinished thought seemed to hang heavily in the air as the two lay in the bed, surrounded and engulfed by the silky sheets around them.

Hands moved again, this time through the silk above his torso, pulling them back slightly. The chilled air struck his skin a bit harsher than normal, as he recoiled into the heat of the other's embrace and deeper into the sheets. Silk hit his neck, right under his chin, pushing all of the colder air out of the way, settling on top of him. He felt his eye lids grow heavier -- although he could not even see out of them -- as the night grew darker and darker.

When he opened his eyes again, he had almost expected to see again, yet...

Wind rustled through the room, nice and warmer than the chill air he'd felt during the night hours. He heard the door open. The smell accompanied by the entrance of the new person into the room was oddly floral and yet metallic scented -- Lucius Malfoy had just entered into his safe-zone.

"Well, it is good to see you again, since our Lord has been very frightful of you never returning to us at all. I believe that was why he went to rescue you from that blasted Ministry building." The aristocratic man spoke to Harry lightly.

Harry, meanwhile, was having the oddest experience -- he could almost see Lucius due to the way he tapped his cane, occasionally switching the hands he held it in, clinking on the tile and on his ring, sending an echo throughout the room. The waves of sound carried, bouncing off of the walls, the floor, the bed, the sheets, his hands, his own (much sturdier) cane in his right hand, and finally carried back to Lucius, the other cane, and back again... He got lost in it all, his mind set to studying the oddness of the entire scenario.

"...there's the possibility of rehabilitating that lame leg of yours, you know?" Lucius' voice came back into focus, slowly, as if the volume on his voice was slowly being turned up. "Harry? Did you hear me, Harry?"

The addressed individual suddenly sat up straighter, the cane in his hand clenched in his fist tightly. "I'm sorry; I was lost in my thoughts. Please, could you sit as I make myself more presentable?" He gently pulled himself, with the help of his cane and the assistance of the sturdy items of furniture around the large four post bed in the surprisingly smaller room.

Lucius' cane began it's tapping over again, once the man was seated in the lone chair in the room, a trifle boarded with watching Harry change into the robes his Lord had left out for him, pulling them over his ivory pale skin, covering the horrible looking scars that marred the surface of the otherwise flawless skin that covered the young man's entire body.

Harry put more confidence in himself as he dressed in the robes his love left him. Upon touching them, a burst of color gushed into his mind, filling his thoughts with just the image of the robe of that texture, dyed with that color, a remnant of a spell that must have been left by the other part of him. "Tom," he whispered under his breath, grateful over and over again for the effort that the other put into aiding him. He was far better suited to this lifestyle than the one of always being the hero of the wizarding world. At least Dumbledore was dead -- Snape be blessed (and praised!) for that, he thought to himself, a scowl etching his features.

Harry's mind drifted away again, once Lucius left the room, after receiving a message from his wife and son (very urgent, apparently), the door was slammed, echoing the waves of sound around the room hastily. The entire room echoed the silence once he left, although he could faintly begin to hear the goings on in the adjacent room -- which was tuned out by the on-sought of memories...

Before, when he was still in his Seventh year, he would wonder -- dream -- about how it would have been if he'd been sorted into Slytherin -- green and silver tie, the snake banner decorating the breast of his black robes, sitting next to Draco Malfoy and his cronies during meals and classes.

If he had been sorted into the snake house, might he have caved in sooner to the man he was deeply in love with in the future? Would he have handed the stone to the man, giving in, begging him to care for him? Perhaps he would have taken the hand of the younger-looking Tom Riddle, when he was in his prime of his Sixth year at Hogwarts, more handsome than anyone else he could imagine when he was offered (perhaps kept a tighter hold on that diary of his once it fell into his hands)? Or would he have happily given away his blood to revive the Dark Lord, who offered him a place once again, before throwing curses his way? Maybe he might have thrown away his resistance upon the merging of their bodies and the continuing of their growing bond of their souls -- the possession in the Ministry -- fighting off Dumbledore (that manipulative, old, deceiving man!)? If not then, perhaps when the Death Eaters raided the castle, perhaps after seeing all of those memories (despite being portrayed as the evil man that he was not!) he might have run to Draco, begged and pleaded with the blond and his guardian to take him with them?

Looking back, Harry was certain he should have taken the first route he was given -- if only he hadn't fought the hat so hard! After his graduation, despite the chaos and the confusion of it all, he met with Draco again, accidentally. Upon reuniting, Harry felt all the fight against what he was turning into leave him -- he would give into the darkness that was being fed to him through that link that connected his soul mate and him to each other.

"Draco, please... take me to him. I - I just can't stand --!" he sobbed brokenly, his mind utter rubbish in forming his sentences. "I just don't know what to do anymore...! Help me, great Salazar!" he exclaimed, surprising them all. The influence of the Dark Lord exploiting him in his dreams had taken its toll on the young man, graying his hair prematurely, eventually turning his soul black as night. Memories of life as Tom Riddle only fueled the fire, as he had experience a great number of them in his slumber at Hogwarts the year before. Eventually, torture turned into pleasure each and every night he laid his head down to increasingly more peaceful sleep.

Once Harry was marked, he could not stand being without his Lord for more than a day at a time. Spending time with his friends irritated him, since he could just picture Tom's soothing caress on his skin (and in his hair) while lying on their bed, right before they indulged in their nightly routine. Eventually he just never came back to their side of the grey scale, fearing that he would go insane if he was kept from the other part of his own self for too much longer.

"Oh, my Tom... How glad am I to be here, with you..." he whispered, almost seeing the sound waves bending, hitting and reflecting around the room.

To be continued...