I know, I know! I'm a bad, bad author! This chapter is two days late, and I haven't replied to any reviews! I'll try to catch up on my review responses later this week, but I just wanted to say thank you again to everyone who reviewed (especially the longer reviews!). Your comments are really encouraging! I've realized that I can't guarantee new chapters by Monday, but I will still do my best to get out one new chapter a week.

For all readers, just a reminder that this is a slash story with an 'M' rating.

Chapter 18

Having decided to take Harry as his Consort, Lord Voldemort decided that his soon-to-be paramour needed to be introduced to the wizarding world, preferably with as much spectacle as possible. He wasn't ready for anyone to know of Harry's identity just yet—he was too useful as a spy—but the world would soon learn that Lord Voldemort had a new partner. A raid was planned for that Friday evening. He hadn't planned on bringing Harry along, but the young man's presence at his side would certainly garner attention.

He and his Death Eaters were going to attack Auror training headquarters. It was a risky target, and the addition of Harry's power would be quite a boon. Yet it was also a mission that would not offend Harry's sensibilities, as this was intended to be a recruiting mission rather than an assault. Trained soldiers were useful, after all, and why bother going to the expense of doing his own training when he could simply steal from the other side?

So the only question remaining was how to introduce his Consort to the Death Eaters. Should there be a formal presentation before all of his troops, or should he simply tell his Inner Circle? Or perhaps it would be best not to say anything for the time being. Harry would eventually take the position of second-in-command, but was he ready to lead now?

It was currently late Thursday morning. Harry had been occupying himself with perfecting his control over his Animagus transformation, but apparently had decided that he'd had enough, as he was currently walking into Tom's study.

Tom was pleased to see that he had been right—the time spent as a panther had already begun to affect his partner. His gait was no longer an awkward shuffle, but a smooth, flowing pace. It was not yet the mixture of feline and serpentine grace that Tom himself moved with, but it would get there. Tom expressed this observation to Harry, delighting in the resulting blush.

"Should I try to hide it at school?" Harry asked about his newfound grace, showing a caution that pleased Tom.

"Hmm. I do not believe that shall be necessary. Few people are observant enough to notice such small changes as differences in carriage and fluidity of movement, and fewer still would be able to discern what, precisely, is different."

"Dumbledore is rather well known for his powers of observation, and my friend Hermione is pretty perceptive, too," Harry rebutted.

"Still, a pretence of clumsiness is extremely difficult to portray effectively. It tends to be rather obviously overdone. And, of course, it must be constantly maintained to be effective."

"Well, Hermione already knows that I was attempting to become an Animagus. It shouldn't hurt to tell her that I've done it. And Dumbledore doesn't see me all that often; only once a week. He probably won't notice, and even if he does, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't ask."

"Now that that is settled, there is a matter I wish to have your opinion about."

"What's that?"

"I am attacking Auror training headquarters on Friday evening, along with a contingent of troops. You will also accompany me, though underneath a mask. I wish it to be known that I have a Consort, but I do not wish your identity to be revealed just yet.

The matter is this: how should I present you to the Death Eaters? My thought is to introduce you to my Inner Circle as the second-in-command. The lesser troops would follow their lead in obeying you. Other options include introducing you to all of the troops together, or not introducing you at all. Your place at my side would be enough to show all of them your superiority."

"And you want my thoughts about it?" Harry replied, gratified to be asked.

"Yes." Harry assumed the terseness of the statement was due to Tom's dislike of asking anyone else for advice. Asking for advice was admitting a weakness.

"You should definitely tell your Inner Circle first. If you don't, they'll think you don't trust them with important information, and they'll be offended. Don't tell them who I am just yet, though. Let them get used to the idea of you having a Consort first. That's probably going to be enough of a shock."

Tom found this to be quite a sensible opinion, so he continued. "What of the rank-and-file soldiers?"

"They'll get the hint by the way I stand next to you. And if they don't, they're probably a little slow, and should be replaced."

"Yes, that and the way the Inner Circle obeys you should be more than enough of a hint," Tom replied dryly.

Harry made a face. "I don't think I'll be giving any orders. I'm not really much of a leader."

Tom raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, so you aren't the boss of the Golden Trio? And you didn't start training your first army when you were fifteen?"

"Hermione's the boss of the 'Golden Trio,'" Harry grimaced in dislike of the nickname. "And the name 'Dumbledore's Army' was just a joke, it was a study group, not an army."

"Your Mu—ggleborn" (he caught himself just in time) "friend may have a controlling personality, but every time you have found yourselves in imminent danger, you have immediately taken control. And your so-called 'study group' was studying methods of fighting, and not in a theoretical sense. I do believe that's called training an army."

"It wasn't like that!" Harry protested. "I'm not some kind of power-hungry attention seeker! When Ron, Hermione and I got into trouble, I knew what we needed to do to survive! And the students wanted me to teach them! What I taught them could save their lives! They needed me! Was I supposed to say no?" he yelled.

"Of course not," Tom replied calmly. "That is precisely why people need leaders. They need to be guided and protected by those who have the ability to do so. People are willing to submit to you precisely because they know you have that ability."

"I don't want anyone to submit to me," Harry whispered, calmer, but not placated.

"No? How would you feel if you told someone to do something, and they were killed because they refused to listen?"

That took Harry a moment to answer. "I…I guess I'd be really angry at them for not doing what I said."

Tom immediately followed that question with another. "And if their refusal to obey you caused the deaths of others?"

"I'd be furious."

"And there you have it. Like it or not, you are a leader, my serpent. And as a leader, you must ensure that those under will obey you, with or without explanation."

Harry sighed. "All right, Tom. You're right. So, you're meeting with the Inner Circle first this evening, and then debriefing all the troops included on the mission tomorrow morning, right?"

"That is correct."

"So how about this: at the meeting tonight, you simply introduce me. Tomorrow morning, we give the debriefing together. That should show everyone what's going on."

"An excellent notion. Let's begin by going over the plans for the attack." The two spent the rest of the morning plotting together, and by lunch time, they had a plan that both of them were quite proud of.

The afternoon was devoted to duelling practice, partly to ensure that the two would be in perfect sync the following evening, and partly to keep Harry too busy to worry about the upcoming meeting. He could feel the nervous energy flowing from Harry's mind, but it didn't seem to be affecting his performance.

Evening came all too quickly for Harry. He knew that Tom wouldn't let anyone hurt him, but it was hard not to be nervous when he was about to be faced with a room full of people who had all either done or attempted to do personal harm to him. He didn't know how he would face Bellatrix in particular. He had forty-five minutes left before the meeting began. He had just finished taking a shower, scrubbing away all of the grime accumulated in several hours worth of hard training, and was presently in Tom's bedroom, about to get dressed. Suddenly, he realized that he was not alone.

Tom was lying on the bed, head pillowed on his hands, ruby eyes smirking down at Harry. He had discarded the loose linen trousers and shirt he had worn for training, and was now clad only in clingy silk boxer shorts. Through the shorts, Harry could easily see Tom's arousal. It made his own member spring to life in response. As Harry was wearing nothing but the towel he had wrapped around his waist after the shower, he knew Tom had to have noticed his body's response.

"Tom? Shouldn't we be getting ready for the meeting?" Harry asked, trying to maintain some control.

The ruby eyes gleamed at him as their owner smirked. "I've done my best, but you are still far too tense, Harry. I've decided to take a different approach toward relaxing you. Come here and lie down," he commanded.

Harry found his feet moving him forward, closer to the bed, even as his mouth protested. "You said we couldn't."

"I said we could not consummate our relationship. I did not say that we could not enjoy each other's bodies."

"What do you mean?" Harry replied, confused. He knew very little about sex, and probably even less about sensuality.

"Lie down. I'll show you," Tom murmured.

Harry obeyed, though he did not unwrap the towel from his waist. Tom leaned over him, and kissed him gently. Harry returned the kiss, tentatively at first, then with more vigour. Their tongues entered a now-familiar dance, and a fire started to build between them.

As the kisses became more passionate, Harry felt Tom's hands pulling the towel away from his waist. He blushed as his body was fully revealed, but was too occupied with the tongue stroking his own to really give it much thought. Then, Tom's hands began gently stroking him, and the sensation completely drove any thoughts of modesty out of his mind.

Tom's strokes became more insistent, and Harry began attacking Tom's neck with fervent kisses. His hands fisted Tom's dark hair, and his hips thrusted upwards, begging for more. He had done this to himself before, of course, but it was amazing how much better it felt when Tom did it.

Suddenly, the touching stopped. "Tom?" Harry whined, his whole body quivering with the need for release.

"§Yes, Harry?§" he hissed silkily. "§Was there something you wanted?§"

"§Touch me!§" Harry spat out frantically.

"§Like this?§" Tom answered, running one finger down the front of Harry's shaft with agonizing slowness.

"§More!§" Harry demanded.

"§Beg for it, my little serpent.§" The smirk on Tom's face pushed Harry even closer to the brink.

"§Please, Tom, please. I need you to touch me. Please, I'll do anything, just touch me, oh Merlin, I need you to touch me…§"

And then Tom's hands were on him again, stroking him quickly, and Harry screamed out his release. He lay in bed panting, recovering, for several minutes after.

"Thank you, Tom," he said, kissing the man on the forehead. "Should I…um…return the favour?" he asked shyly.

Tom muttered a Tempus charm, then shook his head. "As much as I would enjoy that, I am afraid that we do not have the time right now. So get dressed, but remember, you owe me, my little serpent. And a Slytherin always collects from his debtors."

"I'll pay you back…with interest," Harry replied, winking. Then both of them had to hurry their preparations to be ready on time. But Tom's ploy had worked. Harry was now far more relaxed about the meeting.

The meeting took place in the formal dining room, around a large oval table. Lord Voldemort was seated in a large, throne-like chair. Harry, wearing ornate black hooded robes and a black mask, was seated on his left. One by one, the members of the Inner Circle arrived. Nagini, seated across Tom's lap, was whispering the identities of each person into Harry's ear. Though they all looked at him curiously, none of them were bold enough to ask any questions. When everyone had arrived, Lord Voldemort began speaking.

"You may have noticed the man sitting at my left," he drawled. Harry was hard put to keep from snorting at the man's stating of the obvious. "I have taken him as my Consort. His identity does not concern you. You will address both of us as 'my Lord,' and you will obey him as you would me. Our word and our will are as one." Harry inclined his head slightly, as Tom had instructed him to do. "Now," Lord Voldemort continued, "the plans for the attack tomorrow are as follows…"

When the meeting was finally over, Harry felt mixed relief and triumph. The meeting had finished without any problems, and the Death Eaters present had addressed him as 'my Lord' without needing any reminders, or showing any obvious signs of disrespect. Harry did wonder if the respect would continue to be given when Tom wasn't sitting next to him with veiled threat shining from his eyes, but it was a start.

Tom and Harry had lingered at the dining room table to discuss the meeting. Tibby, the house elf who seemed to be in charge, had brought refreshments, and had also brought a clear vial filled with a shimmering silver vapour.

Tom picked up the vial. "Tibby, why did you bring this?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Begging Master's pardon," the elf stammered quietly, "but Master told Tibby to make sure young Master received this today."

"Oh, yes. That will be all, Tibby," Tom replied, waving his hand in dismissal. The elf quickly disappeared.

"I assume you know what this is?" Tom said, holding the vial out to Harry.

"A memory," Harry answered, taking it and slipping it into a pocket inside his robe. "Presumably, the one I should give to Dumbledore, claiming that it belongs to Slughorn."

"Indeed. I will not tell you its contents, so you will not have to feign surprise."

"You'll have to teach me how to create fake memories. Dumbledore might take a look to see exactly how I got it."

"Have you already created a falsified version of events?"

"I've thought about it, but I don't have a whole story yet."

"Tell me your thoughts thus far. We'll complete the story together."

"Well, I've actually had a few different ideas. The first one is that I threatened to go to the newspapers and call him a coward who refused to aid the Boy-Who-Lived on his quest to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Slughorn lives for approval and admiration, so he'd cave if he though his name was going to be dragged through the mud."

"An admirably Slytherin plan, that seems likely to have worked. I'm sure you are aware of its flaws?"

Harry sighed. "Yes, like you said, it's a Slytherin plan. I might as well make a memory of myself using the Imperius curse. Dumbledore would never believe it of me, or if he did, he wouldn't trust me as much."

"Quite right. Your next idea?"

"I got him drunk and gave him a huge guilt trip. He gave me the memory just before he passed out, and he didn't remember it in the morning."

Tom laughed at the audacity and simplicity. "Now that sounds feasible. The important detail, of course, is how you managed to convince him to imbibe large quantities of alcohol."

Harry hadn't gotten that far, so he thought about it for a minute. "The Slug Club attended a ministry gala last month, celebrating Fudge's birthday. Gwenog Jones, one of the ex-students Slughorn is always gloating about, was there, but every time he tried to approach her, she gave him the brush off. In fact, all of his old students seemed to be avoiding him. I had no idea why, but I stood beside him, giving him a sympathetic ear, and not-so-incidentally keeping his glass full. When we all got back to Hogwarts, and the other students had returned to their dorms, I stayed and listened to his whining. Eventually, he got onto the subject of students who never fulfilled their promise. I told him there was a way he could honour their memory."

"How much of that truly happened?" Tom wondered aloud.

"Pretty much just the rejection at the party, which I guess was because our esteemed minister was never invited to be part of the Slug Club."

Tom chuckled. "Yes, I believe this 'memory' shall suffice. Now, construction of false memories is incredibly complex. It is best to work with a Pensieve, so that you may observe everything you put together. I generally begin with a base of visual information. Auditory input is the next step. Finally, details of scent, touch, and taste are needed to make the memory seem absolutely authentic."

The two men worked over the Pensieve late into the evening. When they were finished, they had a memory that, had Harry not created himself, he would have sworn it to be genuine. Harry was exhausted and preparing to return to his hotel, when he remembered something.

"I know you said not to bring anything from Hogwarts, but I have to ask you to make an exception," Harry stated.

"Whatever for?" Tom did not look pleased.

"I have something for you. It's not from me, actually, it's from Helga Hufflepuff. I don't think she'd let Dumbledore tamper with anything of hers, and anyway, no one else even knows it exists. Plus I've already done the Ubicarmen Revelio spell, and it came up negative."

Tom was still reluctant, understandably so in Harry's opinion. But a gift from one of the founders was not something to be rejected. "I believe I shall accompany you back to your room this evening. I trust you, Harry, but it is quite a risk."

Harry nodded. "I'm pretty sure it's safe, but I understand. Can we leave now? I'm really tired," Harry yawned, as if to prove the point.

"Of course, we will leave at once." Tom pulled Harry close, Harry activated the Portkey, and they arrived in the bedroom of Harry's hotel suite. Harry's travelling bag hadn't been opened since the previous Saturday, and since Hermione had packed it for him, it was still rather neat. He found the green and silver scarf with ease, and presented it to Tom.

"I borrowed it once, while I was riding the Knight bus. I figured nobody would recognize Harry Potter wearing Slytherin colours." Tom chuckled in response, and pulled out his wand to begin his own inspection.

While Tom worked, Harry was getting ready for bed. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. He hesitated for a moment in getting undressed, but then felt silly about it. Tom had already seen him in the buff, it didn't matter.

Just as Tom finished his last spell, determining that Harry had been right about the scarf's lack of tracking charms, he heard a gentle snore coming from the bed. Harry was fast asleep. A small lock of hair was swaying back and forth over his forehead in time with the rhythm of his breathing. Tom noticed that Harry was sleeping on the right side of the bed, rather than the centre. That left half of the bed wide open. Tom had to admit that he was also quite tired. And the open space next to Harry was growing more and more tempting with each passing moment.

He'd never been good at resisting temptation. Within minutes, he had his own robes pulled off and was climbing under the covers. Harry didn't wake up, but he did roll over to face Tom, cuddling against his side. Soon, both were asleep, with nearly identical smiles on their faces.