A/N: Once again, this story is getting away from me. Longest chapter of the story so far, but it was necessary. Be advised, this is part one of a two-part upload. I've been unable to get online and get this one uploaded, so you get a twofer! Enjoy!

Also, there are some scenes in this chapter than might be a little graphic. The rating is M for a reason.

"Merlin's bloody balls, Ron, you missed the hoops by a troll leg! It's no wonder you're a Keeper and not a Chaser." Ginny Weasley flew in circles around her brother on one of the ancient Cleansweep brooms her family kept for pick-up Quidditch games. She reached out as she made a pass and smacked him upside the head. "That's for missing a wide open goal."

"Bloody hell, Gin," Ron exclaimed, shaking loose the cobwebs. He groaned as she flew over to her current boyfriend, Dean Thomas, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Oi," he yelled at her. "Try and keep the snogging to a minimum while we're playing, can ya? And maybe go pick up the quaffle."

"Useless moron," Ginny muttered in her brother's direction as she zoomed away and set her broom down on the edge of the forest that served as a backstop for their family Quidditch matches. Officially, Dean had made the journey from his home to see his roommate and prepare for Quidditch tryouts once the school year started back up. Unofficially, he was there to spend some time with her, his girlfriend. Unfortunately for them both, her brother the berk was making things difficult. The constant moaning whenever they so much as got within a few feet of each other and the off target throws were beginning to get on her nerves. This was the third one she had had to fetch and she was sure that nobody, even her idiot brother, was that bad at playing Chaser.

"What the bloody hell is taking so long," the aforementioned idiot yelled, infuriating her more. Why didn't he come in here and look if he thought he could do better? He did have a point, however. Where was that damn thing? Ginny looked back at the tree line, which was a good thirty feet away. The quaffle had never rolled this far into the woods before. She turned back to look into the expanse of forest before giving the ball up as a bad job. Good thing they had extras back in-

"Looking for something, Ginerva," a voice asked from behind, startling her into a scream. Or, what she had hoped was a scream. Not a single noise was coming from her open mouth and, hard as she tried, there was nothing she could do to change the situation. She was magically silenced. "Incarcerous," the voice whispered and she was quickly bound in magically conjured ropes before falling to the ground. "A few moments longer and you'll be back to the game with your brother and Thomas." She shivered as the voice came next from right beside her ear. There was something familiar about the voice, though. Something she should be able to place.

"There is something I need from you first, Ginerva. You see, you owe me a debt, and I am here to collect."

Ginny finally recognized what she knew about the voice as a foot wedged underneath her stomach rolled her over onto her back. The face that went with, though...

That thoroughly frightened her.

"This place is a dump," Hermione said succinctly, staring at the small shack skeptically. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Positive." The Gaunt shack, or what remained of it, certainly didn't look like much, but what Tom left in his mind told Harry that he would find one of the Horcruxes he was searching for here. Harry reached out with his magic, searching for the wards Tom's memories told him were there. Sure enough, he found them, intricately woven through, around, and between each other. A deep green Muggle repelling ward, a bright purple magical suppression ward, and...

"We should leave, Harry," his love stated nervously. "Something feels wrong here."

And that would be the toxic-looking orange compulsion ward, Harry finished. "It's fine, love. You're just feeling the wards Tom left to protect the Horcrux. Take my hand," he said, holding out the appendage, "and you'll be able to feel them."

Hermione took the offered hand and Harry could feel her grip tighten when she could finally 'see' the wards. "I sense them now. They're beautiful, all interconnected like that. If Voldemort weren't such a murdering bastard, I would congratulate him on his masterful use of interdependent ward building. As it is..." she trailed off, removing her wand from her large sleeve.

She ran her wand along the edge of the ward line, and muttered what Harry guessed were Arithmantic equations until she came to an unremarkable (at least to Harry) area of the wards. "Here," she stated, aiming her wand at a point fifteen feet or so in the air. "This is where the keystone for the wards is. If I take this equation and change it..." Here her voice faded once again as she placed her wand to the ground and began drawing a group of complex runes in the patchy dirt. When she had finished inscribing the last one, the arrangement of five ancient letters and numbers began glowing and the formerly colorful wards collapsed in on themselves.

That deserved a kiss, Harry decided. He rewarded Hermione with a particularly lusty snog, which she promptly began to respond to, both audibly as well as physically. Harry decided that it was neither the time nor the place for that and reluctantly broke the kiss. "We've work to do, love," he reminded her with a pat to the bottom. Taking her hand, he led the way through the long-unkempt yard and up to the front door of the decrepit hut. A quick Reducto blew the door into splinters.

"It smells terrible." Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust and warily eyed the many inches of accumulated dust. "How long has it been since someone was here?"

"Fifty years, but it's probably been twice that since it was cleaned. Place was a dump when Tom was last here." Harry pointed with his wand towards a room off to the side, but stopped Hermione before they could enter. "Be careful what you touch when we get in here. The Horcrux has a powerful Withering Curse placed on it, and the golden box containing it has an equally vicious curse providing protection."

"Of course, beloved," Hermione said, nodding. "Will you need my assistance with any of the curse-breaking?"

"The box, for sure. I have an idea for dealing with the ring." He pushed open the door and, even without accessing Tom's memories, could immediately tell where he had hidden the box containing the piece of his soul. The floorboards were loose near the fireplace and Harry could see they had been haphazardly removed and quickly replaced. He scoffed at Tom's inattention to detail. All of his effort went into building the wards that protected this place. Once through those, finding the Horcrux was easy. Of course, destroying it would be another matter. He levitated the loose boards out of the way and the the two stared at the large, golden box under the floor.

Waving her wand slowly around the box, Hermione let out a slow whistle. "Tom wasn't playing around with this box, Harry. An anti-summoning charm, a powerful Flagrante curse, an Insanity curse, and one I'm unfamiliar with. I think Tom created that one specifically for the protection of this Horcrux." She lowered her wand and turned to face her lover. "Harry, breaking these curses will take a few hours. Unless..." she trailed off, staring at the box in thought. Harry let her be for a few moments knowing the smartest witch of the age could work around it. She didn't let him down.

"Got it." A swish and a flick of her wand and the beautiful, but deadly, golden box became a small mouse. Harry almost smiled at what was quickly becoming his love's go-to spell before the mouse began squealing loudly, in what seemed like agony. "Don't ever cast the Flagrante curse on something biological," Hermione offered in response to Harry's questioning look. A quick wave of her wand and her other favorite spell, the Bluebell flames, immolated the poor rodent. She ended the conjuration with an unspoken Finite.

Harry sifted through the ashy remnants of the box, smiling when he finally found what he was looking for. The ring, or at least the golden band, was gone, melted off in the heat of Hermione's magical flames. The only thing left was the black jewel in the center, or what Harry now knew was the Resurrection Stone. Harry was right to recognize the symbol on the cover of the book he'd filched from the study area in Hogwarts. After reading through it, he had finally realized where he had seen that triangular design before: Tom's memories of his maternal family and their precious family inheritance. From them, Harry knew that the Gaunts were uneducated fools who cared for nothing but their ancestry. Not being a big reader of fairy tales, Tom probably followed them in their ignorance and believed that the ring was simply a pure-blood heirloom. Of course, without the other two Hallows, the Stone would not be nearly as useful, so the search was on for the Elder Wand and the Cloak of Invisibility. First things first, however.

Silently, Harry used the Levitation Charm to lift the Stone from the floorboards. When he waved his wand and cast a diagnostic spell over the item, he found that the Withering Curse must have been tied to the gold band of the ring because it was now gone. Determining the Stone to be safe (aside from the shard of Voldemort's soul ensconced inside), he allowed it to fall into his hand and inspected it a little more closely.

"It's amazing that Tom never knew about this," he said to Hermione, examining the tiny little gift from Death, if the stories were to be believed. "If he ever knew the power he had on his finger, there's no limit to the Hell he could have wrought upon the world." He shook his head, playing with the small magical artifact in his hand. "We're lucky that he was as ignorant of magical history as we were." Harry rolled the Stone around in his palm for a moment before closing his fist around it. "I suppose I should remove the soul piece."

"Harry," a feminine voice asked from behind him before he could follow through on his intentions. Harry recognized that voice. He'd heard it during a duel in a graveyard close to here over a year ago. He heard it almost every night in his dreams or, more appropriately, his nightmares.

"Hello, Mum."

Lily Potter's most famous features, her green eyes and dark red hair, were muted by the gray scale she appeared in, but Harry would know his mother anywhere. The scowl decorating her features, however, was new. Every photo, every memory, he had of his mother was of her happy and smiling. This Lily Potter seemed... murderous.

"You've disappointed me, Harry," the shade of his mother spat, glare on her face. "Your father and I sacrificed ourselves so that you'd have a chance to defeat Voldemort and what have you done with it? Making a deal with the most hated and vicious dark wizard in fifty years is not why we gave our lives."

"Mom, I-" Harry tried to reason but the shade of his mother wouldn't allow it.

"You're a disappointment," Lily continued, interrupting her son. "The best thing we could have done would have been to give you up to the Dark Lord. At least then we would still be alive to fight."

Harry was unable to speak. The woman who had birthed him, mothered him for a year and then gave her life so that he could live now believed that he was a lost cause. Everyday he woke with the thought that he would give everything he had to go back and change things so that he'd have just one more moment with her. And now she was saying that the world would be better off if he had died that night instead of her and his father. "No," he breathed out, on the verge of tears. "Don't say that, Mum. Please... I'm trying..."

"Give up," the shade continued. "You can't beat him. You can't save anyone. For Merlin's sake, you couldn't even save Sirius. You're a failure, Harry, and the best thing you could do is run away and never come back."

Head bowed, tears running down his face, Harry was about to agree when a hand crept into his. "It's not true," Hermione whispered in his ear before kissing him softly on the cheek. "It's not true," she said again, more forcefully this time, and in the direction of the shade of Lily Potter.

"Oh? And what would you know, Mudblood," the shade sneered. "Didn't he lead you directly into danger not so long ago?"

"I know plenty," Hermione replied snidely. "For instance, I know Lily Potter, born Lily Evans, was a Muggle-born and would never refer to anyone as a Mudblood. And I know it was my choice to follow Harry into the the Department of Mysteries. I'd follow him anywhere," she finished quietly. She turned to the boy next to her. "It's the Horcrux. It's influencing the shade of your mother."

"Listen to me, Harry. I'm your mother. What does this little tramp of a witch know?"

Harry began to see what Hermione had clued him in to. "Hermione knows me, Mum, better than anyone. She really does know plenty, just like she said. And she was right when she said Lily Potter would never speak to anyone, especially another Muggle-born witch, like that." He unclenched the hand holding the Stone and found that he had been gripping it hard enough to cut his skin and draw blood.

"You're not my mother. Lily would be proud of me. I will see her one day, along with my father, and then I will answer for what I have done and will do in the future." With a nod to Hermione, he released her hand and focused on the Stone and the soul shard contained within. "You almost had me believing you," Harry admitted before removing the glowing red shard from the black rock and placing it in the small mouse levitating in front of him. The shade, the source of its enmity removed, began to melt away. Before it could completely dissolve, however, Harry could have sworn he saw a smile grace his mother's countenance.

"I promise, Mum, I will make you proud."

Being the Dark Lord's newest errand boy really buggered the dragon, Draco decided as he strode through Knockturn Alley. The dingy and dank shopping area for those with an affinity towards the dark arts was nearly deserted, except for a few solitary souls sneaking through the shadows. He blamed the Ministry. After papering more than half of Diagon Alley with notices and warnings to beware of dark wizards, the Auror department had decided it was their business to hassle anyone in the area that looked even remotely like a member of the Dark Lord's followers. The meddling fools would get theirs when the Dark Lord came into power, of that he was sure.

Less certain was his place in his Master's plans. He had only had the Dark Mark for less than two weeks and already he was tired of running here and there and retrieving supplies for the Dark Lord's servants. Yesterday he had made the trip to Slug & Jiggers at Diagon Alley for nothing more important that a bag of beetle eyes and some unicorn hair. Two days before that it was a barrel of dragon dung fertilizer. His mother was still trying to remove the stench from those robes, although he wasn't holding out any hope for them. They belonged in a Weasley's closet now, he thought with a snicker.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Dark Lord's newest pet ferret," a voice spoke from the shadows next to him. He frowned as Ginny Weasley emerged from the space in between buildings. "I knew he had a thing for rodents, but this is getting ridiculous."

"I was just thinking about your blood-traitor family, little Weasel, and how good you'd look in my cast off robes, specifically the ones that smell like dragon dung." He looked up and down the alley, noting with satisfaction that there seemed to be no more of the filthy gingers in sight. It seemed that the youngest Weasley was alone. Frustratingly, his comeback seemed not to faze her in the slightest.

"Been doing some of Voldemort's dirty work, have you," she asked nonchalantly, drawing his ire.

"Don't you dare speak the Dark Lord's name," Draco fumed. He pointed his wand at her chest. "I noticed none of your impoverished family is around right now. I could curse you so badly right now, not even your dumpy mother would recognize you when I was done." He was unprepared for her reaching up, swatting his wand away and slapping him upside the face. "How- how dare you!? I'm a Malfoy and I'll not be-" He was interrupted as she once again reached out and slapped his cheek.

Draco was literally struck silent. No one dared to ever touch the son of Lucius Malfoy. "Y-you are g-gonna be sorry for that, Weasley," he stuttered, rubbing his burning cheek.

"Am I now," she asked, casually inspecting her hand and fingernails. "I'm surprised my idiot brother has had this much trouble with you through your years at Hogwarts. Turns out that all you needed was a couple smacks to get you to behave. I wonder if your mother knew that you enjoyed your spankings," the redhead mused to herself.

Nostrils flaring, his face burning in rage, Draco grabbed the girl by her robes and dragged her into the dirty, dingy side street. "I've had enough of your lip, you little bitch," he fumed at her, pushing her face first into the side of a building. "I know what will knock you down a peg or two." He reached underneath her skirt and ripped her knickers off. "Try not to like this too much, Weasley." Loosening his pants, he pressed the writhing girl back up against the wall. Slipping inside her already wet crevice, he struggled not to let her know how good she felt. "Bloody hell," he moaned, failing.

"Find something you like," his supposed victim asked, wriggling her bum and causing him to thrust faster in pleasure. "Harder, Malfoy. Is this your first time between a woman's legs?"

"Shut the fuck up," he muttered, trying to sound like he was in control. He was in control, he told himself, he just had to get this little slattern to realize it. "I can tell you've done this before, though. Just how many of your brother's friends have you serviced, Weasley? I'm sure Thomas wasn't the first. How many rungs are there on the ladder before Potter, or will he not have you after you've whored yourself out?"

"Oh, you're the first, although I'd hardly call you a friend of Harry's. As far as my virginity goes, I lost that the first time I flew on a broom, Malfoy." Ginny moaned again. "Are you going to screw me or make talk? Merlin, I've fucked myself harder than you've managed so far."

That was enough for Draco. He grabbed Ginny by the throat, facing her back towards him, and re-entered her in a quick thrust. "I'll give you a hard fucking," he promised, jackhammering into her for a few moments before finishing with a low growl. After a half second of collecting his wits, he tried to withdraw from the girl's sopping slit, only to find that he was unable to complete the task. His cock appeared to be stuck in her hot hole and, worse, it seemed to be stiffening again. "What the bloody hell," he muttered in confusion. He looked back up at a smiling Ginny Weasley. "What have you done?" Draco reached back to take a swing at the girl, but found himself unable to follow through.

"I haven't had mine yet," Ginny offered in explanation as she waved her wand, snapping his arms down to his sides. "More, Malfoy. Do it harder this time and I won't make you my little sissy bitch."

Draco's eyes widened as, with another wave of her wand, his hands gripped her shapely ass and his hips began to piston back into her of their own accord. "What have you done to me, Weasley? Let me go!" Once again, he tried to pull out of her and got no response from his body.

"Not a chance, Malfoy. Your cock feels great." Ginny, eyes closed in ecstasy, threw her head back and moaned. "Harder, harder," she muttered repetitively, pulling on her nipples and strumming her clitoris. After a few minutes of pumping, Draco wasn't sure how much longer his body could last. Although he was no virgin (Thank you, Pansy), his thighs and back were not used to the strength required to support a woman hanging off his hips while pounding into her. Thankfully, he could tell that Ginny was about to climax. The contractions in her vagina were beginning to come faster now and her moans were increasing in volume and frequency. "Fuuuuuuuckkkkkk," she finally moaned, announcing her orgasm's arrival. The constant pressure and heat on his dick was enough to make him ejaculate inside her once again.

"Much better," Ginny sighed, dismounting and pushing him away. "Did you enjoy that, Draco? Not what you expected, I imagine." She reached out and slowly began stroking his dick which, to his horror, began to harden once again. "This is mine now, Malfoy. I've used some very ancient magic to bind you to me. With a thought, I can cause you pain that makes even the strongest Cruciatus feel like a tickle." As she tightened her grip, the most painful burning sensation he had ever felt flowed through his privates. He screamed in agony and he pictured his bits boiling in acid. Time stretched and Draco was sure the suffering would never end.

Then, after what seemed like hours, the pain subsided and he could breathe once more. He looked down and was surprised to see his dick, hard as a diamond, but basically unmarred. She was right, that made even the Dark Lord's torture curse feel like the barest of touches. "Or," she continued, "I can give you the most mind-blanking pleasure you've never imagined." She softly stroked the quivering member and his legs nearly gave out. His mind blank, he thrust his hips and came for the third time in minutes.

"You like? Good," Ginny answered, not waiting for a reply. It wasn't as if he could give one anyway. Between the agony and the pleasure, words were beyond him right now. "Your cock belongs to me now, Malfoy, which means that you belong to me. Do you understand?" He nodded. "Good. My Master has a job for you, Draco. If you successfully complete this task, you'll be rewarded handsomely. You remember what a reward is don't you?" Ginny winked at him and a brief flash of knee-buckling pleasure passed through him, causing him to nod eagerly. "Good, good. Now," she said, grabbing him by the hair and pushing him to his knees, "clean me up. I can't be going back home smelling like sex.

"Or you."

"Boy!"

"BOY," Vernon Dursley bellowed from the bottom of the stairway in his house on Privet Drive. Normally the rotund, red-faced man wouldn't bother with asking after his freakish nephew. However, the little bastard couldn't be bothered to make an appearance in the last few days and it was only to keep the smell of a dead body out of the house that he was inquiring now. If Vernon would have thought about it for more than a moment, he probably could have come to the realization that the boy wasn't there. After all, there hadn't been a single noise from the upstairs bedroom that he usually occupied and the lavatory remained unused in the early morning hours that Harry was known to frequent it. Receiving no reply from upstairs, he turned instead to the kitchen. "PETUNIA," he hollered.

"Yes, dear?" His wife's voice preceded her exit from the kitchen by a few seconds. "What is it," she asked before joining her husband at the base of the stairs in the sitting room.

"Where is that damn boy? Did he say anything to you about going off with any of those freakish friends of his?"

"I haven't seen him for a few days," she responded, unconcerned with her only nephew's whereabouts. "You should ask Diddy-kins where he is. Maybe he's seen him?" With that, she disappeared back into her kitchen, distractedly humming a tune.

"DUDLEY," Vernon thundered, rattling the windowpanes in the house.

"What," a voice replied after a moment.

"WHERE'S THE BOY," a rosy-cheeked Vernon screamed back at the stairs. All of the shouting he was doing was threatening a coronary.

"Don't know," came the reply, followed by the slamming of a door that signaled the end of the conversation.

Vernon nearly roared in frustration. "WHERE IS THAT BLASTED BOY?"

"Right here, Uncle."

The surprise of his nephew's voice coming from behind him literally knocked him off his feet and he fell to the floor, where he lay for a few moments as he struggled to regain his breath. "Where the bloody hell have you been, boy," he asked once he regained his base.

"Do you really care," the boy asked, eyebrow raised.

He had a point, but Vernon wasn't about to let him know that he was right. "This isn't some inn where you can come and go as you please, boy. If you're going to leave, just go and don't come back." Just as he was gearing up to jump headfirst into a rant, he was interrupted by the arrival of a young lady from the kitchen. She was fetching and, if it wasn't for her freakishness (for Vernon had noticed the stick she carried in her hand), he may have admitted she was very attractive. "And who might this be, boy? Another one of your freak friends?"

Both the boy and the new arrival ignored the insulting question, instead speaking to each other. "The concealment ward is up, which will obscure any magic done here, and I've memory charmed the Order member standing watch across the street."

"WHAT IS THIS," Vernon boomed. "THERE WILL BE NO MENTION OF ANY FUNNY BUSINESS-" Any further reprimanding was cut off by the boy waving his twig in his direction. He reached his hands up to this throat, trying without success to figure out what was happening to his ability to speak, or make any noise at all.

"Better," the boy continued, rubbing his ears. "Merlin, his voice is loud." Vernon turned a strange purple color at this disgraceful language and started to rage at the boy for his tone before realizing that he still couldn't speak. "Who was it out there on watch?"

"Your neighbor, Arabella Figg," the young woman replied, at which point Vernon nearly had a fatal heart attack. It was one thing for the boy to go around performing that foolishness on his own kind, but for these two freaks to go after a neighbor of theirs, even one as odd as old Missus Figg, was beyond reasonable. He stomped his large foot repeatedly to get the boy's attention. "Oh, calm yourself," the girl replied, noticing his apparent discomfort. "She's one of our kind anyway."

Living so close to one of those freaks for so long and not knowing was too much to take and Vernon promptly fainted.

Later

A sharp slap to his cheek woke Vernon from his unplanned nap. "Wake up, Uncle," the boy's voice came from in front of him. As he opened his eyes, he gradually became aware of the fact that he was no longer standing on the landing of the stairs and, instead, was now seated on his couch next to his son and wife. He struggled to lever his considerable girth from the couch before realizing that he was somehow unable to move.

"WHAT THE-" was all he got out this time before his voice left him again.

"I think we've heard enough from Uncle, don't you love," the boy asked, although who he was talking to was not readily apparent to Vernon.

The conundrum was solved when the other freak replied. "It seems like he only has one volume level: Earsplitting." Vernon would have laughed at the boy calling that attractive girl in the extremely short skirt his love if it weren't for his missing voice. Dudley was not under the same compulsion.

"Bollocks," he said, loudly laughing. "There's no way that you and this slut are together. How much are-" His son quickly joined him in silence.

"Well, that's two down. Care to make it three for three, Auntie?" Petunia quickly shook her head. "Didn't think so. You always were to smartest of the bunch, although that's not saying much, now is it?" He turned back to the girl with him. "Did you find out what I have to do," he asked her.

She nodded "I can't dismantle the wards personally, but it was surprisingly easy once I figured out who could. All you have to do is consider this place no longer your home."

The boy let out a loud, quick laugh before controlling himself. "Is that all? I thought I'd done that the day I stepped foot in Hogwarts? No matter."

"We should wait until we're done here," the girl said, stopping him with a hand to the arm and a sideways glance at them. "You know he'll be here as soon as the wards come down."

The boy took her in his arms and kissed her forehead, thoroughly disgusting Vernon. Displays like that in front of other people. Scandalous. "Right as always, love," the boy said, after he finished disregarding common courtesy. He turned back towards Petunia, glaring at her. "All of my life, you've treated me like something an unwelcome house guest tracked in on the bottom of their shoe one evening. You couldn't be bothered to even give me a proper place to sleep until you thought that you might be under surveillance." He shook his head. "I've always wondered what my mother would think of this, being your sister and all, and now I have the power to find out." He held out his hand, upon which Vernon could see rested a tiny and unremarkable black stone. "I can bring her and my father back from the dead."

Vernon intended on ranting and raving about foolishness and freakishness but the only noise he heard was a soft gasp from his wife. "Please... don't," she softly cried.

"I'm afraid it's too late for you," the freak nearly sitting in the boy's lap replied. "We have need of information and Harry's parents are the only ones that can provide it. I imagine they'll have a few words to say to you regarding the treatment of their son in the next few days.

"FEW DAYS," Petunia shrieked, sobbing loudly before she was quieted as well.

"And that's three," the boy said with finality. "I suppose we should get the family reunion started," he sighed, rolling the small stone around in his palm.

"Tuney, I swear I'm going to make you pay for the way you've treated my son!"

A/N:I know I'm fooling w/ canon here a little, people but I don't particularly care. JKR was never really specific with things like that so I kinda did my own thing. Also, I'm aware that my Brit speak, or lack thereof, is pretty terrible. If anyone has any ideas, let me know. Which brings me to my anonymous reviewer, who tole me that I should "get a beta." I think my grammar and spelling is pretty good, but if you have problems with that, I'm a PM away. Next chapter is also new!

AZ