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A/N: i am not JO! (a single glance at my bank-balance will prove it, she sadly sighs)

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Chapter 10

Lord Voldemort hadn't anticipated the strange burning sensation he suddenly felt in his chest as the first strains of simple Celtic harp music had begun, and the white-and-silver robed vision that was the young witch that he was claiming as his own slowly approached where he stood waiting with Lucius.

The Dark Lord had to swallow down a completely unexpected lump of nervousness in his throat. She was so innocent, so beautiful; he hadn't anticipated that either.

He'd been so busy with the affairs of state these past few days that the young witch's looks had faded into the background of his mind.

The memory of the reality of the girl had faded somewhat, and he'd simply carried on as he'd planned in taking her to be his Consort.

When Severus had placed the girl's fragile hand into his own, and gave his response about freely giving her to him, Voldemort suddenly realized just how young, and just how tiny, the young witch was in relation to his own age and height.

Her silvery tears were, he hoped, of happiness.

Not bloody fucking likely! No doubt she was scared completely shitless about the situation that he'd forced her into. Would she really have come to him, had he not ordered Severus to make it so? There was no telling just what kind of potions she'd been fed simply to get her here.

For the very first time in his long evil lifetime, the Dark Lord suddenly felt the weight of the world and the responsibility for the care and custody of another living human being descend upon his broad shoulders.

He firmly repeated the bond-vows that the girl had so clearly and firmly spoken in her turn.

The ceremony seemed to be over almost before it had begun; tables suddenly appeared loaded with the wedding feast, and his guests began to take their seats.

As usual, Severus was seated to his left side; only this time there was a seat between them.

It held the newly-married former Luna Lovegood.

When she reached for her goblet, Severus placed his hand over the top of it and leaned forward to speak directly to Voldemort, "If I may, my Lord?"

At the regal inclination of the hairless, snake-like head, Severus picked up her goblet and took a long swallow.

He held the sweet wine in his mouth for a moment, tasting the various flavors assailing his palate.

Voldemort closely observed his every reaction with an unexpected tenseness. It had never even occurred to him to suspect the poisoning of his bride.

It boosted the Potions Master's worth to Voldemort ten-fold that he'd been so concerned for his bride's welfare.

When Severus had finally swallowed, and nodded his dark head that it was safe, Voldemort let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding. Lucius, sitting on his right, asked him a question; his attention relaxed and turned away from the Potions Master.

Severus took the few seconds of opportunity to slip a single drop of a very special potion into Luna's goblet. He'd ask her forgiveness later, perhaps.

She gave him a long steady look from her knowing dove-grey eyes, and arched a quizzitive pale eyebrow at him.

Merlin's Balls! He was SO busted; caught red-handed in the very act. Damn. Had it been so long since he'd been a spy that he'd lost his touch? If the chit said a word about it, despite the Dark Lord owing him a life debt, he'd be likely kill him anyway.

Luna didn't say a word.

When Lucius raised his goblet and prepared to give his toast to the newlyweds, she simply 'accidentally' knocked her goblet over spilling all of it's contents onto the table while reaching for it.

"Oh dear! I'm so sorry, sir," she said to Voldemort, with a faint blush tinting her pale cheeks, when his head had swivelled her way to stare at her in consternation.

"No matter, my dear. It must just be bridal jitters," he'd softly replied, vanishing the spilled wine with a single gesture of his long fingered hand.

"More wine for my bride!" he ordered with a snap of his long fingers, and several house elves jumped to do his bidding.

Voldemort, himself, tasted her wine first; it was perfect. She gently smiled at him, and quietly said, "Thank you, sir."

Luna lifted her goblet when Lucius pronounced his toast, wishing them long life, good health, and prosperity.

She drank down a long swallow of the cool sweet wine and smiled into the monster's face that was now her husband; truly for better or worse.

She did not fail to notice that Lucius Malfoy hadn't wished them happiness.

That was perfectly alright with Luna; she hadn't expected to ever be happy anyway. Such was the curse of being Eildarvitch-heritaged; one rarely ended up with an easy life, or had very much happiness within it.

She had the examples of both her mother and the Professor to draw from. She'd never expected her fate to be any different.

As the feast was coming to it's conclusion, and after cutting the cake, Luna whispered to her bridegroom, "Sir? May I ask to be taken to our chambers? I'd like to have a soak and a bit of time to ready myself."

Voldemort was touched that his beautiful bride was shy, and wished to prepare herself for him in private. The time for shared baths would come later one day after she'd been endoctrinated in the carnal delights, but this was her wedding night.

It was special; he silently vowed to himself to continue to make it so.

Voldemort glanced around the room. There she was. With a single finger he summoned Bella to their side.

"Yes, my Lord?" Bellatrix LeStrange fawned before him; she'd already looked the weak, pale, little chit over.

'She'll never last,' Bella thought to herself. 'He'll be summoning me to lie with him once again before this week's out, just as soon as the shiny wears off of his new little toy.'

"My most loyal Bella. I wish you to safely escort my bride to my chambers and provide her with what ever she desires to ready herself. You'll then return here for the awarding ceremony. Think about what you want, Bella. You've earned it; as long as it doesn't interfere with my own plans, it's yours," Voldemort politely said, but no one (especially Luna) thought for a single moment that it was anything but an order to be obeyed.

The Dark Lord politely stood up when his new wife did. His loyal inner circle had all also respectfully risen to their feet and bowed to her as their new Dark Lady stood up and received their Master's chaste kiss on her forehead, before leaving the room with Bellatrix LeStrange.

All except Crabbe; he'd drank too freely of the excellent wine that had came from Albus Dumbledore's private cellar, and had chewed several bites of the opium-laced candy he always kept on him for enticing small children with.

Voldemort did not fail to notice this slight to his new bride; to insult her was to insult him.

The Dark Lord's furious red gaze fell onto his loyal advisor, Severus Snape.

A single look of complete understanding passed between lord and servant; Crabbe had just signed his own death warrant, and Severus was to be allowed the privilege of being his executioner.

Severus smiled a grim smile at his Master. This was going to be so sweet, and with the Master's permission, of all things!

Oh, he'd make it look like the freak accident that it needed to look like in order to preserve appearances alright.

But he'd finally get to show Crabbe exactly what each and every one of his young victims had felt as he'd tortured and sodomized them and, with his knowledge of healing potions, he would feel it for a long, long, time indeed before the dark Potions Master eventually let the other wizard die.

Severus had already decided that the very first thing that he was going to do to Crabbe would be to cut out the sadistic pedophile's tongue so that he couldn't scream. Next he would tether him in his very own torture chamber, where the blood of countless innocents still stained the stinking stone floors and see how he liked white-hot metal caressing his body.

Severus was as giddy as a schoolboy at the thoughts of what all he was going to do to Crabbe.

If Lucius hadn't slapped him hard on his back at just that moment, he'd never have heard Voldemort order young Nott to fetch Hermione Granger to the audience chamber.

Or have had the sense to read young Nott's thoughts concerning the girl in question.

Dear gods! Hermione was about to be raped at the final hour, after he'd so carefully machinated the Dark Lord to prevent that very fate for her.

There was no way Voldemort would allow him to leave the audience chamber; not now, with the awarding ceremony about to begin.

What could he possibly . . . wait a minute . . . Rabastan still owed him a favor for clearing up a particularly nasty wizarding STD for him.

It had been a secret just between the two of them; one that Voldemort was, as yet, still unaware of.

The Dark Lord expected all of his Death Eaters to be disease-free at all times; for he, himself, often participated in the Dark Revels sharing whores and willing young males alike with them.

Severus swiftly crossed over to Rabastan's side and said, "Walk with me, Rabastan."

Voldemort silently observed the two men's actions, but thought little of it, as it most likely concerned Crabbe's death sentence and he had to appear ignorant of that.

Within the next two minutes, Rabastan LeStrange had left out on some errand and Severus was back securely seated at his Master's left hand on the dais.

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"Friend? FRIEND! Where are you? Please help me, friend . . . I can't do this. Friend, I need you!"

Harry stood up, and calmly went to help the fragile bit that still remained of Voldemort's humanity; if there was any way that he possibly could.

The white mists swirled around him once more, and suddenly there he was back in the dank chamber where the very last shred of Voldemort's humanity dwelt.

"FRIEND! There you are! Where did you go? You've been gone so long. I was afraid you wouldn't come back," the little dark haired, blue-eyed, child snivelled. He rubbed a scabby arm across his face, smearing the tears and snot of his panic off onto it.

Harry was taken a bit aback; the child wasn't simply a bloody raw bit of flesh any longer.

Now he was covered here and there with large patches of thick runny scabs, although still no skin that Harry could see or recognize as such.

It had to be in an unimaginable amount of pain.

"Hello, little one," Harry gently replied to the small wounded boy with a smile. "I'm always near you even when you can't see me. All you have to do is call me, and if it's at all possible I'll come to you every time."

"Where?" it suspiciously querried. "If you're always near me, why can't I see you? Why don't you talk to me? I talk to you all of the time, but you never answer me back."

Harry suddenly felt older than his years; what to reply?

The wrong answer right now might mean the difference between redemption and destruction for the last bit of humanity still residing within the Dark Lord.

Is this how Albus had felt everytime he'd asked his own unanswerable questions as a boy growing up? Merlin, what a load for anyone to have to bear!

Dumbledore had always answered him so mysteriously all of the time that, as a child, Harry had thought him to be all-powerful and all-knowing; sort of like a god.

Remembering the pain and disillusionment of discovering the truth about the old wizard's simply being a flawed human, Harry decided to always tell it the truth. He amended that thought allowing that some mystery would be okay.

However if he truly didn't know the answer to anything the child asked, he'd admit to it instantly.

Harry opened his mouth to tell the child about the Station, but nothing would come out. He tried again, with the very same results.

A coolness came over him. Harry understood now.

Mortals could never know definitely for sure about the survival of their soul. They would either trust in their own continuance, or not. Free will meant the freedom to even choose wrongly.

Just like magick, some things are meant from the foundations of the very Universe to be taken on faith; because faith and love were truly mortal man's strongest magicks.

Harry opened his mouth again and spoke, "I stay in a misty place because that's where I belong right now for trying to harm you that time. I didn't know that you were here then, or I'd never have done that."

There. That sounded positively Dumbledorish enough to satisfy the child, and every word was the absolute truth.

The scrap of raw, scabby, humanity snivelled one last time, and Harry could see that it was digesting what he'd just answered. It slowly nodded, then paused to look him directly in the eye.

"Okay. But why don't you talk to me when I talk to you?" it asked again, seeking clarification.

Bloody hell! Now what was he supposed to say? Why DIDN'T he hear it all of the time if they were truly soul-bound like Ron had thought?

Harry decided to again tell it the truth, "I think that I must sleep sometimes. Maybe that's why I only hear you when you really, really, need me."

The child tilted it's head to the side as it thought that over; Harry smiled at the action. It rather reminded him of an inquizzitive little ugly puppy.

"Okay, then. I guess that's alright, as long as you do come when I really need you," it finally answered.

Harry looked somber for a long moment, then replied, "I'll always try to come to you when you need me, but sometime in the future that may no longer be possible. One day, I might have to move on. But until then I promise to always come when you call, and even if I have to move on I'll always remain your friend. You have my word."

No one was more shocked than Harry Potter when he felt the magickal bind of a wizard's oath wash over them. He thought that part of his life had ended with his death; apparently not.

"What was THAT?" the little boy squeeked out in his sudden fright. "What did you DO?"

"That was a wizarding oath-bond. I've given you my word. Now that's a promise that I'll always have to keep," Harry again chose to tell the truth.

"Forever and ever?" it suspiciously asked.

Harry nodded and said, "Yes, my little friend. Forever and ever."

The little scabby boy slowly thought about it, and inched close enough to Harry to place his tiny oozing hand trustingly into the older wizard's grip.

Then it spoke, "My friends call me Tommy, or they used to, back when I lived in an orphanage. I'm not sure what my name really is any more 'cause everyone calls me something different now, but you can call me Tommy if you want to."

Harry smiled.

"Hi, Tommy. My name used to be Harry. People called me by many names before, too. I know how it feels. You can call me Friend, or just call me Harry; whichever you'd rather."

It's little forehead wrinkled, cracking open two scabs across it, as he said, "I'll just call you Friend for right now. There's something about the name 'Harry' that makes me feel funny inside, but I can't remember why. Is that okay?"

Harry grinned even wider and simply nodded his unruly dark head to show that he understood, and that it was alright by him.

The two of them stood together quietly for several long moments, and then Harry asked it, "Why did you need me so badly this time?"

Tommy sighed, looked away from Harry in obvious embarrassment, and scuffed his raw toes against the slimy stones of his secret chamber inside of the Dark Lord's mind.

"He's going to do nasty wicked things to the pretty girl that can see me," he slowly replied in an anguished soft whisper, as he quietly confided in his only Friend.

End of Chapter 10

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A/A/N: Well people, sometimes the best laid plans of mice and author's often go awry.

I felt this was running a bit long; I broke it in two.

The next chapter will be entitled "Luna's Wedding Night". Hard at work on it even as you're reading this. --snickers--

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