I really don't feel as though I need to put a disclaimer for this chapter, besides one saying that I own none of this, and that J. K. Rowling owns all of these characters.
This is a relatively short chapter, but I feel as though I couldn't make it any longer if you put a gun to my head. Besides, it sounded like a pretty good place to stop (:
Enjoy!
An hour later found Harry seeking solace out on the grounds of the manor, the stars his only company. They seemed to twinkle sadly at him, and he heaved a sigh up at them, his eyes focusing on the cloud of breath that appeared in the cold air before him. His lips pressed together in a scowl, and he looked away, back down at the ground. He wished to be out of the cold air, or that he had at least had the sense to slip on pants before rushing out into the night. Now that he was out in the moonlight, he might as well suck it up, and enjoy the sight of the stars.
The fragrance of a flower wafted up to his nose, and he glanced to his right, to see a single flower unfurling right before his eyes, reaching up into the night for the gentle embace of the moon. The pale, milky white flower looked silky to the touch, and his emerald green eyes were captured by the pure beauty, the utter innocence of such a thing. He wanted to carress the petals, but worries that he would be far too sullied to ever touch such a thing stilled him from doing so. Pressing his lips together, he looked back up at the sky, to find the stars and moon peering back down at him.
The boy didn't know what to do, what to believe. On one hand, he cared for Tom, and he believed (at one point) the man had cared for him. Eyebrows knitting over his sparkling orbs, he pleaded with the stars to share with him their wisdom, and tell him what he should do. "I... I'm so confused. I don't know what to do, what—well, who to believe." He shook his head, settling down on a stone bench. Pulling his knees up to his chin, he rested his forehead against his kneecaps. "I've been lied to and used all my life. I'm tired of it. Sick and tired of it," his voice broke, emphasizing on 'tired'. "I don't want to be lied to anymore, and To—," he licked his lips, shaking his head to correct himself, "Voldemort. Voldemort said he wasn't lying to me, that he would never lie to me, but what if that is another lie as well?
"What if this is the same as before, but just with new faces and names?"
Sighing deeply, he ran his fingers through unruly locks, tightening his grip to look up at the stars once more. "What if I made a mistake by coming here, by choosing him? Was I too hasty?" Pulling his knees closer to his chest, he scowled up at the sky. "What if I was wrong? What if they weren't lying to me, and it was Voldemort that led me to think that? What if they truly did care for me? What if I was wrong to come here? What if I was wrong about all of it?" He demanded of the moon, knowing that he would receive no reply from the floating orb of light.
So, it caught him completely by surprise when he heard a voice coming from his left, a familiar masculine voice, "But you don't honestly believe that, do you, my Prince?" His head snapped over to find Lucius standing in the path, obviously having heard every word he said. Scowling deeply, he felt his cheeks heat up.
"You know, eavesdropping on 'your Prince' isn't something you're supposed to do," his voice held a bite to it, though he wasn't truly upset, more embarrassed at being found.
The blonde's head dropped, a fist curling into his chest. "My apologies, my Prince. Please forgive your servant."
Harry's cheeks tinted darker and he waved a hand at him, "You can just drop that now, Lucius. You don't have to call me that right now. Just Potter would do. Or Harry, whichever." Looking away, he pressed his lips together, hoping that the man hadn't heard everything he had said, had only heard the end of it. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
The man approached quietly, his shoes making gentle scuffs on the cobblestone path. "I decided to take a leisurely stroll in my Lord's gardens, and happened upon my Prince. He seemed to be in distress, so I came to his aid."
"Drop the honorifics. Just call me Harry, Lucius; since I call you by your first name now, you can call me by mine."
Dipping his head, the man consented. "Very well, Harry, if that is what you wish, but only for now shall I call you such." Gesturing to the bench beside Harry, he asked, "May I?"
Nodding, the boy shifted over a bit for the man to have more room. Upon sitting down, he shuddered, looking around at the night. "It is awful cold tonight, don't you think?" Giving a slightly indifferent shrug, he looked away, then jumped in surprise when a blanket fell around him. He blinked over at the head of the Malfoy family, who was no longer looking at him. "I couldn't very well leave you cold now, could I? My Lord would have my head if I did so."
"Thank you," he voice was quiet as he wrapped the blanket around him, becoming wrapped up in his thoughts.
"Harry, I like to think you an intelligent human being, an intelligent wizard." Blinking in surprise, he looked over at the man's sudden declaration. "So, it is odd for me to stumble upon you, and finding you wondering about 'what-if's, and other things that no one will ever know for sure." Opening his mouth to defend himself, the teen was quickly cut off. "Sitting here wondering aloud if the others in your life truly meant you harm, then wondering if it was somehow all the Dark Lord's fault." Grey eyes found the boy in the darkness, and the teen shrunk a little, looking down at his fingers that played with the slippers upon his feet.
"You started seeing through their lies before you and the Dark Lord had even begun to talk. You started seeing through them the summer before your 5th year at Hogwarts, didn't you?" He waited until he received a quiet,
"Yes."
A soft sigh reached the younger male's ears, and he looked up at the aristocrat, "Then I don't see why you question my Lord in such a way. Do you honestly believe the He would have allowed you so deep into the rabbit hole if He was simply using you? You are appointed our Prince, Harry. You have power no one else in the world has had. You have the power of the Dark Lord, Harry, the power and the privilege to use that power." He sighed, obviously jealous of the magic running through the boy's veins. Looking up at the sky, he continued, his tone softer now,
"I don't wish to try and coerce you to stay here, if you do not think that is in your best interest. I dare to speak for my Lord when I say He merely wants you to have what you feel you need. I, myself, simply do not want you to make a mistake, a grave mistake." He shook his head, his gaze shifting to find the boy in the light of the moon. "It may seem that my Lord forced those lessons upon you, but it was to help you, to become a better wizard, to expand your knowledge. We want you to be able to use every drop of magic you have, instead of being able to only scrape the surface as you would have if you would have stayed the 'Light's' scapegoat." The contempt he held for the idea showed in his voice.
Pressing his lips together, Harry ran his fingers through his hair, looking over at the man pleadingly. "How do I know he isn't lying, though? How do I know you aren't lying to me? How?" he demanded, his voice raising.
Shaking his head, Lucius replied in a level tone, "You don't. There is no way to know for sure if we are lying, or if we are telling the truth. You are just going to have to listen to what your instincts are telling you, and take a leap of faith. If, after all, that is what they are telling you to do." Turning his head to meet the teen's steady emerald gaze with his a gray of his own, "I will tell you this, though, Harry, this, coming from a man who has been in and around Hogwarts and the Ministry all his life: You go back there, you will not get back out. Dumbledore, especially, will make sure you are not left alone ever again. He will brainwash you, as he attempted and succeeded to do for all of those years. You will lose your sense of self, and become the weapon that they wanted from you."
The teen gulped, but the man was not done. "I do not beg for you to stay here, Harry, though I do believe it is best, I also believe you must do as your heart decrees. However, I do plead that, if you do decide to leave the Dark Lord and this manor, that you do not go back to them. Go somewhere else, among strangers, for strangers are far less likely to use you as those you know of the 'Light' are."
"No one in this manor means you any harm, Harry. If you cannot believe that now, then give it time. With time, each of us will prove our worth to you, and prove that your trust is rightly placed in us." He held Harry's gaze, steadying the boy without laying a hand upon him. "Trust is to be earned, not freely given. This I have always believed. But, Harry, give us the chance to prove to you that we are trustworthy; do not toss us aside for our passed deeds."
Pressing his lips together, the teen's eyebrows lowered over knitted eyes, "Why should I give you the chance? After all that you have done, all Snape has done, and all that the bitch has done," he spat the word, contempt laced with every syllable, "Why should I give you a reason to change my mind?" A Muggle saying came to mind, "Tigers don't change their stripes."
Shaking his head, the man corrected him, "We all did things that we would not do now, because at that time, you were an enemy to us. You are no longer our enemy. We will not hurt you, never again. Not us nor our Lord."
Harry looked away, back down at the ground, counting the cobblestones before them. The man made to open his mouth, and the teen held up a hand, his eyes sliding closed, "That will be all."
Biting back a smirk, the man rose to his feet, folding a hand over his chest and giving a slight bow. "Of course, my Prince." Turning on his heel, he walked away, leaving the adolescent to his own thoughts.
Green eyes followed him away, then turned up at the moon, content to think the night away. Upturning to the moon, his silently pleaded, "What should I do?"
He stood at his window, the windows that had been forever open since his Serpent had joined them. Out he gazed, looking upon the scene before him, at the gardens tended to meticulously. In their depths lay his Serpent, his Harry... He could sense the boy's magic, as he didn't yet know how to hide it. He would be taught in due time, however. 'Well, that's if he decides to stay.'
The thought unsettled his stomach, and he pulled his robe closer around him. The air set a chill to his bones, and as unsettling the thought of losing Harry was, the thought of him spending another moment out in the cold was infinitely worse. Midnight had passed at least two hours previous, and he had spent every minute of those past hours standing in front of his window, debating on going outside to retrieve the boy. After all, there could be many different ways that would be perceived as.
Harry could potentially think he was trying to influence him into staying, forcing himself on him. This would only push him away, nearly as surely as leaving him out there alone would. After all, what kind of man leaves one he cares about out in the cold nippy air, outside to freeze the night away?
He certainly could not say he would allow Nagini to stay the outside outside, even if she insisted.
Surely he would understand.
He had to understand.
Harry had to understand that he could not simply leave him out in the cold.
Pushing the thought of what might happen if the boy did not understand to the back of his mind, the man made his way out of his room. His fingers snagged a blanket from his unmade bed as he rushed forward, moving just below a run. He wasn't able to bear the thought of Harry spending another moment outside, alone, in the cold. The boy could sit there and think about whether his intention were good or not, whether he should stay or leave for hours more, so long as he was safe and warm inside, out of the cold.
Through the garden he strode, unsettled by the cold air that nipped at his nose. Harry had left his wand inside, and was not fluent enough in Wandless magic to be able to anything worth while. "Dammit, boy. I've once again remembered why I once harbored such a distaste for you." His strong willed foolhardiness never ceased to amaze the level headed Dark Lord. Rash decisions were not something he could ever afford to make, so he never did so. He could never imagine running from a warm house to sit out in the cold with not even his wand for company.
No matter how distraught he was.
In a ball he found his serpent, curled up under a blanket with the scent of Lucius clinging to the wind. 'Hopefully, he talked some sense into him.' Still, it wasn't as though he could count on such. Harry was a delicate creature, and Lucius... well, Lucius wasn't nearly as smooth as he would have liked to believe. The boy did not look up when he approached; he wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't heard him, if he was asleep, or if he was ignoring him. He hoped it wasn't the last.
"Harry?" The boy fidgeted a little under the blanket, but did not look up at him. He repeated himself, as he hated to do, his voice soft as to not frighten.
Cautiously an emerald eyes peeked out from under the blanket, and Voldemort sighed. "Come inside, for your health. Think on it all you want, but do so in the warmth of my home. I cannot have you stay out here another moment. My conscience simply will not allow it."
The ball that was his Harry slowly unfurled, regarding his extended hand as one regards a snake. "I've said it once and I'll say it again. I'll not harm you, Harry. Of that, I assure you."
Slowly, the boy looked up at him, as though it was taking years for the words to process. Then, after deciding that it would do no good to argue with him, he stood on his own, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. Pressing his already thin lips together, the man reached out and wrapped the blanket he had brought with him around the boy. Hesitating to put an arm around him, he settled for dropping his hand to the teen's lower back, guiding him through the gardens back into the house.
Silent they traveled the entire way, until they hit the wing of the house that housed the guest rooms. Even then, Harry said not a word, and it was the Dark Lord that found himself clearing his throat to speak. "I'm not going to push you in your decision, Harry. If you don't feel that you are going to be able to make the proper decision in my chambers, I'll gladly have a guest room warmed for you."
Dipping his head, the boy licked his lips. He was unsure of how to proceed, because even though To-Voldemort was offering him a peace of mind while he thought over his choice, he wanted to be in his presence. Still, he feared that in the man's presence, he would fall victim to the man's dark charms. As if able to sense his reluctance to send him away, but fear to keep him close, the man took a step back, dipping his head lightly.
"I'll leave you to your thoughts then. I, as well as the rest of the Dark, await your ultimate decision at breakfast."
Harry licked his dry lips with a tongue that seemed to be much drier, and nodded his agreement. He had the entire night to think it over, the entire night to marinate over the decision. Unsure of whether or not it was a good thing, he ducked his head and moved into the room. "Thank you. Good night."
The man stood there for another half second, watching the boy disappear, then turned stiffly and left as the door closed, leaving him standing there alone. His thin, barely there lips disappeared completely as he pushed them together tightly, and he stalked off to lay in his bed, alone for the first time in what seemed like a year. His window stayed open, as Harry would have wanted it, and the silk sheets did nothing to warm his cold body. The night passed slowly, the only break in the monotony his inability to keep from flipping back and forth in his cold bed, though even that, after a while, grew monotonous as well. Though his eyes stayed closed and he did not leave his bed, sleep evaded him, no matter how diligently he pursued it.
Harry found himself in a similar situation, his thoughts running rampant in his head. Bouncing back and forth, they gave him a headache that seemed to be caused by bruises from the impact of the relentless assault of his imagination and indecisive thoughts hurling themselves at his temples. A steady throbbing of his head lulled him into a terrible and nightmare riddled sleep, where each of the possibilities of making the wrong decision played out in his head, over and over again, for what seemed like a millennium.
It was the sun that reprieved them both of what ailed them. Tom rose first, as he had not truly fallen asleep in the first place. He laid in bed for a few minutes, his crimson eyes open and staring at the ceiling. He had never truly thought that Harry would think about going back. He didn't think Harry would miss it one bit, would think for one second that it was he who was lying, not the old fool and his followers. He had calculated the possibility that yes, the boy would refuse him, and would stay with the Light no matter what he tried, but not that he would accept him graciously and then second guess himself.
In bed he laid for another five minutes, until the sun infiltrating his room grew far too bright for him to stand laying there, still any longer. With his serpent he could have laid in bed all day, but without him, all he could think of was all the things that were yet to be accomplished on his list of things that needed to be done. There were people to kill, Ministries to topple... His lips pressed together again, and he heaved himself out of bed. It took a few seconds for him to force himself to his feet once he was sitting, but it did happen. He scorched his body clean in the shower after Summoning a glass of water to quench his thirst. It did nothing to help him.
Harry found himself awake fifteen minutes later, brought from his slumber with a surprisingly pleasant dream, the only one he had the entire night. His body was calm and collected, his mind at ease with his decision, as opposed to the night before. He knew what he was going to do now. He knew what was the right decision, what had to be done in order to set everything right. Seemingly in a Utopia, he slid out from under the covers, to find a fresh set of clothing sitting at the foot of his bed for him. Silently, he slipped them on, his mind blank. There was no time to second guess himself now. It was happening.
Bare feet padded down the stairs to the dining room, where he could sense Tom patiently waiting him and his decision. He could feel the tenseness of his aura and pressed his lips together. His hand silently made its way up to his forehead, where the pads of his fingers played with his scar, and he wondered, for a split second, if he had made the right decision.
But then he was standing in the doorway, and Tom was pinning him to the spot with his piercing crimson gaze. It was time. There was no time to second guess himself. It was happening.
A red tongue snaked out from behind his teeth to wet his dry lips, but he could not find it in himself to break the eye contact of the Dark Lord. A light sweat broke out across his forehead, and he wiped his now sweaty palms on the thighs of his trousers. He was pinned to the spot for a full minute, and then Tom raised a hand, beckoning him forward. His feet moved of their own accord, listening to the power behind the crimson eyes holding his soul. Clearing his throat, Tom released him from the power he held.
"So, Harry Potter, have you reached a conclusion?"
His fingers tangled together in front of him, and he squared his shoulders, tilting his head back a little. Chest inflating a little, he took the stance of a proud, strong man who could hold his own, no matter what decision he decided to make. Though there was only one answer that Tom wanted to hear, he found that, watching Harry stand so proudly and so strongly, with such determination, it wouldn't matter either way. His mind would not be changed, though he himself had changed. The Dark Lord had changed the boy, and even if he did go back to the Light, there would be some marks that would never completely go away, ever.
This was not the same boy who he had visited one summer's night.
He was different. He was changed.
Not one could deny that the touch of the Dark Lord had changed the boy, the touch of the scar on his head or the mark upon his neck.
Silence filled the room for a long 58 seconds, and Tom pressed his fingertips together, waiting most impatiently for the boy to speak.
"Yes, I have."
Leaning forward a little in his chair, the man continued, "Then, what is the conclusion you have reached? Where do your loyalties lie?"
This time the silence did not leave the room for nearly two entire minutes, 116 seconds, to be exact, before the boy continued. His chin rose a little, his confidence in himself and his decision showing greatly, bringing an appreciation from Tom that he did not ever think he would feel for the boy. His mouth opened, and the man's heart involuntarily jumped to his throat in his anxiousness to hear the words that would fall from his lips.
"I have decided where it is I need to be. I need to be surrounded by people I know, people I trust. I have to know that I can trust those around me, with my life, because in the end, if I cannot, then that is exactly what I shall lose. It is where I will flourish most, and where I can comfortably call home. I need to be with those that I know will not lie to me, and where I can expand as a wizard. I have to know that no matter what happens, they will stand beside me, and when it comes time, I will not stand alone." Because there would come a time when he would have to make a stand, a stand much like he was making now, and it would alter history forever.
Voldemort leaned closer, eager, anxious to hear about his decision, where he would stand in life. Would he stay beside him, and would they conquer the world together, or would he choose to return to the Light, and have to be killed along with the rest of them?
Though the thought of him returning to the Light turned his stomach, he wasn't entirely sure he could kill the boy, the one he had so inadvertently chosen all those many years ago, marking him as his own equal. Even if allowing him to live would spell his own demise, left in the hands of the Light, he didn't know if he could raise a cruel hand to him with a clear conscience.
"Well? Is this place you describe with me or with the Light?"
Licking his lips, the teen suddenly bit back a grin. "Tom, what on Earth makes you think that they could be anything more for me than you have?"
Tom, unable to repress the genuine smile that spread across his face, pushed back him chair and beckoned to the boy. Grinning, he bound over, crashing his lips together with the man's with such force he knocked the chair over backwards, and they tumbled onto the floor. The floor came in hard contact with the man's head, but the pain blossoming from the impact did nothing to kill his spiking arousal. Images and ideas swarmed his head, but the only thing he could truly think came out of his lips when the teen pulled away for much need air:
"And with this, we conquer the world."
Though it took a few blinks of emerald eyes to realize what the man was talking about, he finally realized and a smile broke out across his face. Resting all of his weight upon the man's chest, he reached up to tangle his fingers into his hair. "This? You mean me."
"Yes, you."
A smile and another kiss.
"Then, let us conquer."
A/N: I hope you enjoyed (: Don't forget to write me a review, if you want to.
Oh! Golly gosh, gee wiz! I almost forgot! (: I would find it of great use to have a beta help me in this story, because sometimes in life, I just need someone to bounce ideas off of, and someone to give me a good kick in the rump. I honestly have no idea how to go about finding one, so if you (or someone you know) is interested, please, send me a private message, and we'll see where we go from there! Bye!