Title: Black and Deep Desires

By: Dr. Kim-chan

Me: (weighs one of the suitcases, and finds that it weighs 206 pounds for some strange reason…and that it's breathing heavily. Sighs, unzips it, and dumps out Draco) For the last time, you can't come with me! Like a lightweight blond Brit's gonna get past Customs.

Draco: (whines loudly)

Me: Don't make me sic your father on you. (points to Lucius, who waves)

Draco: (shuts up)

Me: Good, let's continue. I should've written about the Weasleys' side a long time ago. It is a negotiation, after all. I was just caught up in the rapture of setting up the L/R drama. If I do stop here, however, it'll be a cruel thing to do.

Ron: Why?

Me: Because this chapter happens to end on a BIG cliffhanger. But if I can find the time between now and July 3rd, we can probably find a way to update Chapter 13 before I cross the Pacific. So, for good measure, this will be a very long chapter. Besides, who's gonna be on FF.N for the Fourth of July?

Lucius: Desperate depraved fanfic authors who have no other plans for your American holiday than to sit at the computer, wasting their lives away?

Me: Um…well, I wouldn't put it that way…anyway, I don't wanna rush, though. We gotta make this fic top-notch! Hey, where's Harry? (turns to my abnormally large duffel bag and hears it making muffled sounds) Good grief. Rolling Chapter 12! (clicks remote) Dammit, Harry, you're smashing my Game Boy Advanced!

(Begin Chap. 12)

…Mrs. Weasley walked up the rickety stairs with the greatest care. She was overjoyed about her son, but she didn't want to get Harry's hopes up too high. The covert letter he wrote was crumpling in her hands, she was so excited. Reaching the landing in no time, she eyed the third door at the end of the darkened hallway. That was Harry's room for the time being. Hermione's was on the next floor. She walked briskly towards it and was just about to turn the doorknob, but then she heard voices, mainly Harry's. Should she listen in? It sounded important. Remembering Harry's "delicate" emotional output as of late, she decided to listen first before she entered.

On the other side of the door, there was indeed a conversation taking place, and it also concerned Ron. Harry was doing most of the talking, with Hermione scarcely getting a word in edgewise.

"A hard choice. Defy the Ministry or pay the ransom?"

"There's no choice," Harry spat out. "It's been two days. They're taking too long making a decision. It doesn't even require that much thought."

"Harry, we're all anxious to get Ron back, but try and be realistic. No one here has that kind of money to give up in such a short amount of time."

He stopped in his pacing and took a long, smoldering look at her. She knew what he was hinting at.

"Except you, of course."

"Exactly. I did it for Fred and George, and I can do it again. My parents meant well, but it's not like I have a use for all that money."

"Why don't you save it for your life after you graduate from Hogwarts? After all, they left it for your security—insurance, so to speak," she urged. "Our times as adults are coming upon us. The years before we get jobs in the wizarding world will be the hardest, especially for you. You'll need a place and a life of your own—more so if you get married and/or have kids—and we're pretty aware the Dursleys won't let you live on Privet Drive the minute you turn eighteen...or seventeen. Depends on how much they tolerate you."

"In that case, they wanted me out when I was left on their doorstep…I just can't take this waiting!"

"I'm pretty sure he's fine. He isn't much in emergency situations, but I'm sure he's handling himself well. I mean, it's Draco."

"And his father."

Mrs. Weasley finally took it as her cue and opened the door.

"Hello, Harry, Hermione. We were talking about Malfoy's terms for the umpteenth time," she said casually, and sighed. "1,500 is a lot. That's about more than we won on our trip to Egypt."

"Why won't the Order let me pay the ransom? I have enough," Harry burst out.

"Because your parents left you that money and we don't want you to worry yourself sick over this. I know you two are best friends, but he's also my youngest son. We'll settle the negotiations one way or another no matter what it takes," replied Mrs. Weasley firmly. "Besides, I have wonderful news. Look what we found folded in the ransom note," she gushed, giving the letter to Harry. Hermione walked over from the other side of the room and peered over his shoulder to read it, then saw a sight she hadn't seen in months: Harry smiling.

" 'Can't handle himself in emergency situations'? " he reproached.

"Fine, so I underestimated him," Hermione pouted. "We'll see him on the 12th then…but he doesn't specify a meeting place."

"We'll look for him when we go to the Apothecary to get our Potions supplies. That's one of the items we forgot to get after the raid. It's pretty close to the line between Diagon and Knockturn." A long pause.

"What's the matter?"

"It'll be hard. He says he won't be able to escape. All he can do is talk to us until we officially get the money…and what if Mr. Malfoy catches him? It'll jeopardize everything. Mrs. Weasley, it wouldn't be any trouble!" Harry said, bursting into a plea. "Please let me get the money from my account. We can do it on the same day!"

Mrs. Weasley was about to refuse his help a third time, but then she took a leaf out of Harry's book and paused in thought as well.

"To be honest, personally, I don't see the problem," she confessed, throwing up her hands. "We only don't want you to have more than you can handle what with the war about to begin and the recent...unpleasantness. It was Moody who first objected, not me. But if you feel so strongly about this, then I guess you can take it up with the rest of the Order…and to warn you ahead of time, you'll need some strong arguments to convince Alastor, Remus, and my husband."

Shaking her head, she left. Harry fiddled with the piece of parchment, reassurance coming over him as he glanced over Ron's scribbling handwriting. Three days…no, it wouldn't take so long to wait.

"I wish they'd trust me more. It's only money."

"It's not the money they're concerned about. It's your state of mind, and I don't blame them one bit. As of late, every time someone's in trouble you have the urge to try and make everything all right because you feel it's your duty. You don't have to solve everything—just make sure that when the time comes, you're the one to be left standing, not You-Know-Who. That's your job."

"Oh, and caring about my friends isn't?"

Hermione took a deep breath, almost on the brink of insanity herself. Lately holding a conversation with Harry was like negotiating with an enraged giant.

"I didn't say that. Harry, let me make this perfectly clear. We—meaning the Weasleys, Dumbledore, the Order, and me—don't want you to stretch out your neck so far you get it chopped off. Mr. Moody and Professor Lupin aren't purposely trying to aggravate you. They just don't want you to get hurt or die. If you're running around solving every little thing, you're only going to make Voldemort's job easier! That isn't what your parents and Sirius died for. Leave the sacrifices to us!"

This only raised Harry's ire further.

"If that was meant to cheer me up, then it didn't. I already know about their sacrifices. Dumbledore always telling me about how my mom left me her legacies, finding out what Lupin and Sirius knew…even last year, when Aunt Petunia revealed what she knew. Everyone was keeping secrets from me, doing more harm than good. Everyone told me how my parents were satisfied with death, everyone telling me Sirius didn't become a ghost because he left us for the right reasons. You tell me a thousand times to be happy, but I'm not. Cedric had no intention of saving me; he was in the wrong place at the wrong time! Ron was trying to save his family, and Malfoy used him to his advantage. There's no sacrifice there, no love. I do not go looking for trouble! It comes for me, and it's damn determined to take down everybody else with me!"

"Harry…"

"So I have to lose everyone I love because of a prophecy? Who'll be next then? Lupin? The Weasleys? You?" He stood up. "I don't care about good intentions! Good intentions don't bring your parents back to life! They don't make you feel any better! You're still alone!"

"Harry."

"And let's say I do destroy Voldemort. What happens next? A few congratulations, some celebrations, maybe a dedication. But there will still be dead people, people who will never see their families again! There may still be psychos like Wormtail running loose who may lead a second revolt and finish what Voldemort started! Sirius died because of that? All he did was make me miserable!"

And that's when her last straw was broken.

…On the first floor, all the adults had heard were some shouts, then silence, then someone stomping back to their room.

…Upstairs, Harry was left alone with a bright red bruise on his face. There was scarcely enough time to witness the tears before Hermione stormed off. Utterly stunned, he sat down upon his mattress. In the corner of the room, Hedwig had been a bystander the entire time, placidly cleaning her feathers. As soon as Hermione left, the snowy owl cocked her head and gave a sympathetic glance.

"Don't feel sorry," Harry replied quietly. "That was coming to me."

…August twelfth arrived.

As mentioned before, no wizard or witch who ventured into Diagon Alley three days ago truly had a chance to buy everything they needed for the coming school year. Upon their cautious return, the atmosphere seemed the way it was before. The only change was the occasional Auror stationed at some of the shops, and four of them in and around the perimeter of Gringotts. Despite the lingering possibility of another raid, Moody voted not to accompany the Weasleys and Harry this time around, but for extra measure he let Shacklebolt and Tonks go. As for Hermione, she left the House of Black the day before, promising to meet up with Harry again—not for his sake, but for Ron's.

Shacklebolt stayed behind in the Leaky Cauldron. Tonks, always being the adventurous one, went ahead through the portal in the brick wall. The shopping arena was full and bustling again asit always was during the summer,yet everything was awhole notequieter. People were more fearful. It wasn't the Aurors; they didn't impose such a threatening presence and they didn't have to. Merely knowing how fast and brutal the Death Eaters could strike now was terrible enough.

All this notwithstanding, Harry pulled out the list from his robes and checked off the items.

"We won't be here long. Books and potions ingredients are all that's left."

Tonks leaned down and whispered,"Where'll Ron be?"

"Hopefully near the Apothecary. That's one of the only places where Ron would be if he wanted to come up from Knockturn. Trust me, I've been there before."

The young Auror squealed in half-horror, half-admiration. "What's a wizard like you doing down there!"

"Floo Power incident—nothing more. Anyway, we're going to Flourish and Blotts first to get the books, find Hermione, and get out for our rendezvous. You coming?"

"Yep. I remember the plan. The second we leave Flourish and Blotts, I go back to the Three Broomsticksand wait. If Malfoy does happen to find Ron missing, you wouldn't want me making things worse. Meanwhile, Ginny, Molly, and Arthur are headed to Madam Malkin's."

Then Tonks withdrew to Mrs. Weasley before they made their departure. "It'll be all right. Those two are the cleverest ones I ever did see."

The redheaded woman nodded, looking over Tonks' shoulder.

"Yes. Just make sure to tell Ron we'll get him back as soon as we can," she said despondently. Tonks offered a cheery smile for support before grabbing Harry by the robe and practically dragging him off to the bookstore.

…The sun filtered down with a thinner veneer upon Knockturn than it did in Diagon. Questionable stores snaked themselves around the cracked, dirty, and thin cobblestone strip. Whether it was natural or on purpose, the depraved sunlight befit the mood of what some could call Diagon Alley's darker twin. For the past week, it was more crowded and noisier than customary. Around many corners, in many dim-lit alleys, wizards and witches of a more evil nature discussed the raid with gusto. Some of the gossip taking place was criticism; more of it was praise.

Standing by a shop selling hard-to-find ingredients to be utilized in Dark Magic, two hags and a wizard were doing the same.

"About time the Dark Lord did something bold. We can't skulk around the Ministry anymore," the stringy-haired hag croaked. "Fudge isn't a match for the Death Eaters."

"He was too bold if you ask me," the wizard responded, adjusting the lapels of his olive-colored robes. He was also a Death Eater, in his mid-thirties. "I'm just gracious I had other duties that day. What's he planning now that requires throwing caution to the wind and letting his followers be captured?"

"A distraction?" guessed the second hag.

"Possibly so. I wouldn't put it above Voldemort to be resourceful in such times. I heard from somewhere there's a covert operation within Azkaban. If a Death Eater is ever captured and they possess even the slightest credentials, then if the bail can be paid they're given favor and released. The system works better if the person seeking release was just a Death Eater serving behind the scenes—you know, never used any Unforgivable Curse on a fellow wizard or witch. If they did, however, then everyone realizes it's a lost cause. Voldemort deems them disposable and moves on. He can recruit more followers on a whim. There goes his best follower now."

The three snoops glimpsed in the direction the first hag was pointing. In the midst of the cobblestone avenue, Mr. Malfoy was strolling along, staring straight ahead with the ubiquitous, snake-headed cane in hand. Next to him, Draco was trying his best to keep up.

"I don't get it. He has money, he pleaded the first time to avoid prison, then he was caught, then got out completely without Voldemort's help, and he has a son to succeed him if he can't be released next time. I'm surprised Malfoy isn't the Dark Lord himself, or at least tried to overthrow him. I wouldn't put it above him to try—"

Then all three were silenced as they saw a redheaded boy close on Malfoy's heels, carrying a package and looking none too pleased.

"He's not a Malfoy, I presume?"

"Of course not. Looks like a servant," scoffed the wizard. "Must've finally gotten rid of that wretched elf. But a human servant? Who keeps human servants in this day and age?"

"Malfoy's always been old-fashioned."

"Having a human servant isn't the issue. In a way, it's not uncommon for a wizard as rich and behind in tradition as Malfoy. The question is why he'd choose such a young, lean thing."

The wizard took a closer look as the little entourage disappeared into another shop across the way. In a moment of inspiration he snapped his gnarled fingers.

"I recognize that boy! I used to frequent Diagon, and two years before I saw him with…"

He stopped in awe.

"For goodness sakes, who?" both hags asked impatiently.

"Harry Potter. The one who defeated the Dark Lord. I swear to you that boy's his closest friend!"

"What!"

…A few minutes later, the group had departed from the shop front to pursue other interests. Lucius, Draco, and Ron finally left the one they had entered and started in the direction of Diagon. Ron looked up to determine the time by the sky; it was still high. He could still get away to meet with Harry, but how?

Suddenly, Lucius stopped. He swung out his cane behind him, and Draco almost fell over trying to stop himself. Ron stumbled in his wake, desperately holding on to the package he was holding. For one, every time he moved it he heard the tinkle of fragile glass. No punishment would make up for breaking whatever was inside. It was an extremely important parcel addressed to Callisto Zabini that the alchemist asked for Lucius to retrieve. It was from an anonymous source, received in discretion from the most sinister apothecary Ron had ever seen. (Then again he never had been to Knockturn Alley.) He knew that at least half of the ingredients on the shelves had to have been outlawed by the Ministry.

With a particularly tense expression, the blonde man peered tentatively into the alley and cursed silently when he caught sight of the Aurors.

"The Ministry's raised security in the Alley. I won't be able to walk in there lest I raise suspicion."

"But the Ministry doesn't know whether you were part of that raid last week," Ron defended. Draco looked at him in wonder. He was actually taking up for his captor?

"Be that as it may, Weasley, I have a record. Give me the package; you'll just have to accompany Draco to Madam Malkin's and Flourish and Blotts. Draco already has his money, so be quick about it."

Ron didn't hear what he said next because Lucius pulled aside his son to whisper it in his ear.

"It'll be your job to make sure he doesn't leave your side. Most likely the Weasleys returned to finish their shopping as well, and some of the Order could still be lurking around."

Draco nodded, Ron handed him the package to hold, and Lucius sent the two on their way. They walked very quickly, with Ron leading, and as soon as Lucius was out of sight they were running full-force in the direction of the bookstore.

"Why are you in such a hurry!" Draco snapped.

"When your father sent the ransom note, I wrote another note and sneaked it on your owl to tell my friends and family I was okay. I also said I'd meet them today somewhere near here. I just hope they haven't left yet—"

"And why should I help you?" he asked haughtily, snatching back his arm from the other boy's grip. "Father told me to keep an eye on you, and I intend to keep that promise or I'll catch it."

"Why should you help me? Two words: Blaise Zabini."

"You're blackmailing me?"

"Damn right. I did you a favor—even after you tricked me—so I expect you to return it. I'm pretty sure Mr. Malfoy won't be happy that you're swapping snogs with Mr. Zabini's son, and don't think I'm bluffing. All I want to do is see my friends, and Mr. Malfoy isn't even around. He's back in Knockturn hiding from the Aurors. You really suppose he'd be stupid enough to walk around here with so many?"

Draco took a quick, nervous glance around, then gave in.

"Fine. I'm going to Madam Malkin's if you feel like coming back. He catches us together and I can just say goodbye to Blaise."

The pair then resumed their race in opposite directions. Watching them disappear out of sight was the same wizard in the olive robes who was conversing with the two hags. He couldn't hear them talking over the din of the crowds, so he made do with their body language.

"Yes, that's him, all right. The boy Malfoy brought back to the Riddle Mansion. I should've remembered: I was keeping watch over the door that night. So the young Weasley's a hostage and working for them in lieu of payment. But where's he running off to?…I don't like the looks of this. This could turn into an incident. As a fellow Death Eater, he should very well hear from me."

He walked back into the shadows of Knockturn to find his comrade.

…"You see him yet?"

"He wasn't at the Apothecary. He has to be somewhere nearby."

It was hard work traipsing around Diagon Alley with a couple of loads of parcels in the August heat, searching diligently for a friend who could've been anywhere. Harry had declared it a lost cause to waste time running back to the Three Broomsticks despite Hermione's stubborn reasoning. The two still hadn't quite recovered from the argument a few days ago.

"We still haven't looked around Ollivander's," Harry muttered, "and every minute we lose we're putting Ron's life in more danger."

"Then he isn't in any more danger," Hermione said cynically, pointing towards an enclosed space between the wand shop and another building near it, fortunately in close proximity. Ron was standing there, patiently waiting around to see if his friends would show up. With both speed and silence, Harry and Hermione jogged over. There was a brief moment of unbridled jubilation, then Ron got down to business.

"Mum's not weeping or anything like that, is she? I still remember how she was carrying on about Percy, and he wasn't held hostage."

"She's worried—your dad, too—but she isn't exactly acting hysterical. At least, not like three days ago," Hermione ensured. "Our question is how you've been."

"Like I said, fine. I'm their servant now. It was our arrangement."

" 'Our'?" inquired Harry, arching a dark eyebrow.

"At first, Malfoy wasn't going to wait for very long, but I convinced him to let me work for him as collateral," Ron explained. "Even then, I don't know how much more patient he can be."

"Only until next week," Harry responded cheerfully. "I went into my account today and pulled out the amount we need, but it took a hell of a long time to get Moody and Lupin's permission. The Order's finalizing the terms as we speak."

"Great…"

Harry and Hermione stared at Ron incredulously. It didn't sound like he was very glad about being released.

"Uh oh," whispered Hermione. "I think he's developed the Stockholm Syndrome."

"Stockholm what?"

"It's a psychological condition that usually happens in instances of hostage situations or times of war. It can happen whether it's between an individual and his captor or a country and its captor or captors. Stockholm Syndrome is what happens when the prisoner starts to identify with the captor, specifically if they've spent an extended amount of time together."

"You mean he's actually beginning to like serving the Malfoys?"

"Not 'like', exactly," Ron said defensively. "It's just that my life's more comfortable there. You wouldn't believe the bedroom Mr. Malfoy lets me sleep in, or the bathroom. I got new clothes. I do chores, of course, but nothing real different from what I do at the Burrow…except for the disgusting stuff I had to in the garden…and cooking. I have to cook for them two times a day. They don't really eat lunch except when they want to."

"About these new clothes," Harry interjected. "Do you have to wear them so off the shoulder?"

Ron peered back at the shoulders of his oversized shirt, which was a scarlet red today. It was about to slip off his right shoulder completely. He blushed and pulled the sleeve up.

"There's the problem. You didn't fasten the last button. You always dress so slovenly," disproved Hermione.

"No. Uh…I have to keep the last button unfastened. It's one of his rules."

Hermione looked perplexed. "What kind of rule is that? Apparently the shirts he's giving you are his old ones. They're too big for you. And I don't think he cares if you get dirty or not."

Ron was now blushing the same color as his shirt. He wasn't telling them the absolute truth. He couldn't tell them what the unfastened last button represented.

"You got too quiet all of a sudden. There's something you're not telling us here. Did he do something to you?" demanded Harry angrily.

"No."

"If there is a problem going on, you can tell us," coaxed Hermione.

"It's nothing I can't handle until next week. It's no big deal, honestly."

"So there is something."

"Just drop it, okay?" Ron asked irritably.

"Now I'm really worried. You're getting mad at us for no reason…and what kind of person asks their servant to leave their shirt hanging open—?"

The air seemed to stand still as a click went off in her head.

"Ron…"

"I swear it's nothing!"

"What?"

"Pardon me for even entertaining the notion, but does Mr. Malfoy ask you to do that for his personal purposes?"

"What're you getting at?" Harry asked her in astonishment.

"Look, there's a bruise on his wrist right there."

"No it isn't! It's nothing!"

"Whether I ask you now or Draco at Hogwarts will make no difference to us, but we're going to find out sooner or later. It won't do any good to bottle up whatever's going on. You want to make it easier on yourself and confide in us, or do we have to confide in Malfoy?"

By way of a fantastic coincidence, the blonde veered around the corner at the greatest speed, his blue eyes wide and darting around frantically. He finally caught a sight of Ron, dashed over, and clutched his arm with one hand while balancing his packages in the crook of the other. Harry undid the grip and nearly pinned Draco to the wall.

"All right. What's going on?"

"What will go on is that both Weasley and I are going to get it if he doesn't hurry up!"

"What's the matter?" Ron asked him.

"I don't know who tipped him off, but I was leaving Madam Malkin's and I saw Father by Flourish and Blotts, looking around. Then he saw me and asked me where you were. I said I sent you to get me an ice cream—it was the best excuse I could come up with—and that you weren't back yet. He called me a liar…well, not that I wasn't, and said someone told him they saw you leave my side and head towards the Leaky Cauldron. Now he's trying to find you! Leave it to a bloody Weasley not to take good advice when they hear it!" Draco yelled with furor.

"He's coming this way?" Hermione said fearfully. "Harry, we have to get out of here!"

"I can't leave. I want to talk to Malfoy in person."

"Go, Harry," Ron assured quietly but firmly. "I can take the rap. It's not like he'll kill me."

"He may as well," Draco murmured.

At the end of the alley, a shadow tall in stature fell over the brick wall parallel to it. Wasting no time, Ron pushed his two friends out of sight just as Lucius appeared around the bend. Ron's stomach dropped heavily, and he almost keeled over. All Draco could do was look down, a fretful whiteness washing over his already-milky complexion. There was a bit of anger burning in him, but the real pinch in the plan was whoever informed against them. I wonder who it was…

Since neither of them was daring to look into his eyes, they heard the tapping of both the cane and his feet until it stopped cold in their ears. They couldn't see him, but they could certainly feel him…him and his culminating wrath emanating from his entire being. They were more than prepared to get the lecture of their lives, Ron more so because he had experience with his mother.

And yet, all he said was: "If you two are quite finished with your little meeting, it's time to leave. Draco, did you get everything?"

"Yes."

"I have it in good faith your mother's sending your things to the manor, Weasley."

"Yes."

"Good then. Come along."

The tapping commenced in the opposite direction. The two peeked to see his flowing black cloak getting smaller and smaller. Draco nudged Ron and they solemnly followed.

"Well, that went wonderfully."

"Don't count your blessings yet," Draco reprimanded begrudgingly. "When you're his son, you can tell when he's very angry."

"So what's with the silence?"

"…When he's too angry for words. You're about to learn the hardest lesson of them all, Weasley…"

"And that is?"

"Never cross my father's path."

(End Chap. 12)

Ron: Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no! You can't stop here! What's gonna happen! Oh great, he's gonna kill me! Wait…crap! He's not gonna do that again, is he!

Me: There's good news and bad news. The good news is that he'll be too upset with you to do the Horizontal Bedroom Limbo. The bad news…well, it'll be ten times worse than the Horizontal Bedroom Limbo.

Ron: (faints)

Me: (whispers aside to Lucius) He does that a lot. Don't mind him.

Lucius: I kind of feel sorry that I have to punish him in the next chapter. It won't be anything cruel, will it?

Me: I can't promise anything. Let's just say this story's rating has and always will be a precaution just in case.

Draco: I can't believe he got me into trouble, too! Stupid Weasley! (pouts and gripes in the corner with his Harry plushie)

Harry: When did he get a plushie? I want a plushie, too! Everyone has plushies but me!

Lucius: I don't have one. (hides a Ron plushie behind his back)

Me: Stay tuned for Chapter 13!