Disclaimer: I do not own.

//This is Parseltongue.//

Paraselenic

Surreptitious // obtained, done, made, etc., by stealth; secret or unauthorized; clandestine.

"Have you even wondered how your life would have turned out if you hadn't had to grow up in the orphanage?"

Voldemort stopped writing at the sudden question after over an hour of silence, slowly turning red eyes up to meet green. "What brought this on?"

A shrug. "I don't know, really. I was just thinking about how alike we are, and I wondered how different things might have been."

"Well, I can't answer that. 'What ifs' are a pointless endeavor."

Harry scowled. "Come on, Tom. Haven't you ever wondered how different you would have been?"

"When I was a teen and younger, yes. All the time. I'm turning seventy years old this year, Harry, I've expended all my 'what ifs' by now."

Harry gave him a wry smile. "You actually called me by my given name."

"So I did." Voldemort was looking away from him, and Harry could tell that was intentional. He moved on quickly, and Harry ignored the twinge of regret. "What did you mean by us being alike?"

"Our childhoods. How we reacted is the only real difference. Orphan. My aunt and uncle hated magic, kept my ancestry from me until my Hogwarts letter came. Not so much abusive as neglectful. I was their House Elf."

"I never meant for it to be that way. If you've ever noticed, there are very few orphans of the first war. If the parents were killed, the child usually was as well. After how I grew up, I didn't wish it even on the children of my enemies."

For a long moment, the two just looked at one another, until Harry finally smiled and nodded. "I am glad that is the case."

Voldemort opened his mouth to speak, but an abrupt knocking at the door called his attention. With a scowl, Voldemort waved his wand at the door. "What do you want?!"

The door opened hesitantly, revealing someone Harry hadn't expected to see. Draco Malfoy was obviously scared out of his mind to be faced with the Dark Lord, but he was doing an admirable job of hiding it. The blond's eyes flicked to Harry but didn't stay on him, obviously too scared to look away from Voldemort. "M-My lord, it is very important that I find my father… Mother said he had come here?"

Voldemort raised his brow. "You interrupted me to find your father?"

"It's important, my lord! I-It's about Potter!"

Voldemort's eyes flicked to Harry, who had turned to hide his grin from Draco. He shrugged at the Dark Lord and leaned back in his seat, raising an eyebrow at Draco. "You're Pretty's boy? He just left a few minutes ago. I'd be happy to go looking for him, though."

Voldemort scoffed. "I'm sure you would."

Draco's silvery eyes were wide and frightened still, and Harry could hear the younger man's heart beating from across the room. He had obviously not had many dealings with Voldemort in person, despite his bragging in school. Harry stood fluidly, cocking his head at the younger Malfoy. "Shall I take you with me, Little Pretty?"

Quickly forgetting his situation, just as Harry knew he would, Draco scowled. "Excuse me? Just who are you, anyway?"

Harry heard Voldemort's displeased hiss, and held out his hand toward him. "Don't worry about it, Tom, I can handle this one." He turned to Draco with a wide grin, immediately causing the blond to shrink away at the sight of his fangs. "I am Mylläkkä, Little Pretty, the new partner to your Lord Voldemort. It's nice to see your father's genes are strong. Don't you belong at Hogwarts, though?"

Draco scowled again at the 'nickname', but quickly answered. "I have my own private floo connection from my room in Hogwarts to my room in my manor. I'm the only one who can go through it, but it is useful. I used it because I need to find my father."

Harry turned and gave a sweeping bow to Voldemort. "My dear Tom, I'll see you next week around this time, alright?"

Voldemort glared. "I don't know why I allow you to call me that."

"Because I'm me, why else?" Harry grinned, mockingly blowing a kiss. "Wish me luck finding Pretty!"

"If he kills you for coming on to him, it's your own fault."

Harry snorted and swept from the room, cocking his head for Draco to follow. He delivered a kick to the again-dozing Wormtail, smiling brightly as he walked down the halls. "So, Little Pretty, what was so important for you to scare yourself silly in front of the Dark Lord?"

The blond was wary of him, Harry could tell, because he was far too meek when faced with Mylläkkä. "I'm half Veela, and I had a confrontation with Harry Potter day before yesterday. I need to see my father about why he… felt differently so that my father can inform our lord…" The blond trailed off and wrinkled his nose. "You feel the same, somewhat."

Harry suppressed a grin. Malfoy could be so naïve. He didn't mind that the blond might figure him out, he was a Slytherin and wouldn't use it against him until it was beneficial to him. And before that could happen, Harry would be sure to educate the young Malfoy heir as to just who he was dealing with. "Describe the feeling for me, then."

"I can't. It was just… like… an addition to his aura, his presence. Something that wasn't there on the train ride home at the beginning of summer. You have it too, but it's much stronger on you. It's like an interference, a separate entity…."

Harry debated several minutes on whether to make it easy on the blond or not before deciding not to; he was far too entertained watching the proud Malfoy flounder. He smirked over his shoulder. "Well, I'm sure Pretty is around here somewhere, so we'll be sure to find him."

Draco followed the elder man with an obvious reluctant trepidation.

Lucius was found easily, lording over lower Death Eaters and generally making an ass out of himself. This was the reason his interest in the elder Malfoy would stay purely physical. He hated people who thought too highly of themselves. Voldemort had reasons; he was the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries, commanded followers across the British Isles and into Europe. Valerian had the right as well; he was considered the Lord of the Immortal realm and had been for centuries, garnering the respect of thousands in several races. Harry, himself, could even probably get away with it if he so chose; he was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, and a formidable foe who commanded more power and knowledge than many adult wizards would ever hope to, and all at the age of twenty six.

Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, was nothing. Yes, he was a moderately powerful wizard, had influence and 'pure' blood… but he hoisted himself on an imaginary platform, believing everyone else should be bowing to him, ignoring the fact that he regularly dirtied his knees before a half-blooded half-snake madman. Not that Harry was insulting Tom, of course, but the facts remained.

Harry sidled up to the oblivious blond, Draco trailing like a puppy. Harry grinned and pressed himself into Lucius's back, resting his chin on the older man's shoulder. "Hello again, Pretty. Miss me yet?"

He felt Lucius stiffen against him, and Harry reveled in the fact that all the lower Death Eaters were backing away in recognition of their new Lord. Harry was impressed that the Malfoy had already learned his lesson after his Crucio, though Harry didn't hold much hope that the lesson would be retained. For now, though…

A wicked grin spread across Harry's lips as he turned his head to Lucius's neck. Lips ghosted over the pale skin. "Is anything wrong, Lucius?"

"My lord," the blond ground out through clenched teeth. "I would appreciate some distance between us."

Harry let his nose press into the pale skin before him, tracing up along the blond's jugular. "And I would appreciate some respect, Pretty. You seem to be lacking."

Harry could feel Lucius's breathing hitch before he spoke. "I apologize for stepping out of line earlier, my lord. It was a foolish mistake and will not happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Harry murmured, no longer caring what Lucius had to say. The scent of the man's blood so close beneath the surface was fogging his thoughts, his senses captivated.

Harry flicked out his tongue to taste the alluring skin, letting it flit across the fluttering pulse point. He felt the man he was wrapped around stiffen and begin to pull away; he couldn't have that, now could he? With slitted eyes, Harry slammed the blond into a wall. He pinned Lucius's hands over his head and pressed himself into him, something like a purr coming from deep in his throat. "You smell lovely, Pretty… so tempting… so delicious…"

Whatever Lucius had been about to say was cut off as Harry scraped his fangs over the delicate skin of his neck, pulling an undignified, strangled noise from Lucius's throat.

Harry's purring grew as he trailed his tongue up Lucius's neck, moving along the jaw until he could brush them with Lucius's. "I want to taste you, Pretty."

And Harry always made sure to get what he wanted. The kiss was short but deep and lustful, and Harry was pleased when Lucius responded despite his usual protests. If he didn't have to make it back to Hogwarts or had it been earlier in the evening, he would have been happy to have his way with the blond. He tasted as wonderful as he smelt, and Harry's only thought was to have more of it. Arrogant, insufferable prick or not, Lucius was certainly an entertaining challenge. Harry would relish in the game.

His mouth ran down a strong jaw line and his fangs nicked the skin. He licked across the minuscule amount of blood that welled there and nearly swooned, a moan escaping his throat. "Pretty, you'll let me taste you, won't you?"

In Lucius's lust, he nodded, and Harry ran his hand from the man's chest up his neck, over his cheek, and twining roughly in long pale hair. He yanked the man's head to the side and sunk his teeth into the tempting neck without any protests, a low groan from Lucius his only response. Harry grinned as he drank, his head spinning. Seemed his Pretty liked the pain. He would surely have fun with this at a later date.

He pulled away after only a few swallows, not wanting to knock the blond out. He licked the wound several times and nuzzled the spot softly, a smile lighting his face as he met hazy gray eyes. "Thank you, Pretty. We'll finish this another time."

He left Lucius that way, and nearly laughed aloud as he saw the shell-shocked look on Draco's face. He grinned as he patted the Malfoy heir's head as he passed, winking at the vacant expression. The other Death Eaters had wisely left at some point during the interaction, and Harry hummed as he made his way down the hall to the entry. What a nice evening.

He Apparated away.

It was nearly dawn when Harry returned to Hogwarts, a grin remaining on his face. He was tired but far from exhausted, a lightness having overtaken him from his visit to the Dark Lord's base of operations.

It was foolish that Harry did not pay attention as he ran with his inhuman speed back towards the castle, believing his invisibility cloak was enough to keep him hidden.

Hazel eyes watched him arrive, a complex charm allowing the person to see through invisibility. A calculating glint overtook those eyes, a rare smirk crossing thin lips. Though the famed 'Golden Boy' had only been back in Hogwarts for a day, the person had known immediately that something was different. Changed. New. And the person was glad; the war had finally turned in the Dark's favor.

The person would let Potter have his secrecy, and the person would keep theirs. They had remained undetected for years, they didn't plan to start getting caught now.

Dumbledore wouldn't see this coming if it smacked him in the face.

Harry strolled into the Potions classroom with an unconcerned air, eyes darting quickly to all corners of the room as he catalogued the details of the room in one fell sweep. The room had changed little from his memory, though now he noted more than he had in his teens. Across the back wall was a long row of jars on a high shelf, obviously for display rather than use. Seeing what appeared to be a unicorn horn in one jar, he had to assume it was for the rarest or barely legal ingredients. The stone ceiling was low, lending a claustrophobic air to the already small, dank room. The tables were aligned perfectly straight and Harry suspected they were held into perfect position by a spell, because nothing human could produce such accuracy.

Most obvious to him now, though, was an unremarkable banner that lay strung over the blackboard, its coloring matching the dungeon walls and the writing only marginally darker. Harry took in the seemingly nonsensical symbols with surprise before taking his seat, knowing Snape would soon enter the room. He quickly pulled out a quill and parchment and copied them down to study them more intently; it wouldn't do for him to show excessive attention to something he wasn't meant to understand, after all.

Severus Snape swooped into the room moments later, and Harry placed a second parchment over the first. He would wait until they were set to work to continue; Snape was nothing if not habitual, and every year always started out the same. Lecture rife with insults, derision, and unreachable expectations followed by impossible-to-answer questions, ending with 'silent time' reading the first chapter of their books and writing a foot-long essay on what they would be accomplishing in Potions class that year. Every year it had been the same assignment, and he didn't know why only Hermione seemed to preempt it by writing it over the summer. He had managed to half of it on the train ride once he'd gotten his books.

Hermione's quill was already scratching away beside him, the scowl on her face telling him she was still not over Ron having given up on the class. Speaking with McGonagall had done no good as Ron himself was against remaining in the class. In fact, other than Hermione and Harry, only Dean Thomas had continued the class. Both Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had taken on a Teacher's Aide position under Sybil Trelawney, while Seamus Finnegan used the free block for a nap. It was probably rather fortuitous that after O.W.L.s classes became a combined affair; otherwise, it would have been the three of them against a nearly full class of Slytherins, as all but Crabbe and Goyle had continued.

Snape surveyed them with a distasteful moue. "I see that the completion of O.W.L.s has drastically cut out the more moronic of your number, though there are several of you I would still prefer to see gone." Snape didn't even try to hide who his eyes strayed to, a sneer lifting his lips as he gazed at Harry. "I assume, since you are not quite the loathsome parasites of society that your absent classmates are, that you will be able to keep up with the curriculum I have planned. If you fail to, you will be ejected from this class forcefully. Do we have an understanding?"

Harry laughed mentally at the looks on many of the students' faces; the two Hufflepuffs, in particular, looked shell-shocked. Snape was effective at intimidation, surely, even if Harry thought he failed miserably as a teacher.

"Now, who can tell me the basic properties of gurdyroot?"

Harry tuned out the question and answer session, waiting until Snape called on him. And he surely would. It would not be a start of year Potions class without his attempt at humiliating his least favorite student, after all.

It was a given, and so when Snape barked an acidic, "Potter!" in his direction, Harry wrapped the naïve persona he needed around him and set his face to a rebellious scowl instead of the derisive sneer he wished. Snape would learn, or Harry would kill him. And that was that.

He did wonder why Severus Snape had anything written in the language of Sonneillon in his classroom. His grasp on the dead demon languages was slippery at best, but some phrases were common enough to be remembered. He only recognized the first line, but the message summed the man up rather clearly.

'Vengeance comes to those who wait.'

"It wasn't Myrtle. I was young," Voldemort said slowly, quill grinding to a stop on the page. He didn't look up to meet Harry's eyes even as Harry stopped any pretense of work. "Very young the first time."

The week had passed with little excitement, and Harry found himself once again in Voldemort's office helping with paperwork. It wasn't exciting by any means, but he plied Voldemort with small talk to amuse himself. Usually, Voldemort didn't answer. Harry was secretly pleased that he had this time, even if it had taken him many long minutes to finally speak up. "Who was it?"

"A boy at the school I attended. He was never connected to me. It was before Dumbledore ever showed up at the orphanage, before I had even gotten a grasp on my powers. "

"What did he do?"

Voldemort's lipless mouth quirked, but there was no humor in the look. "Nothing horrible. He insulted my mother. I was under the impression at that age that my mother had been some beautiful queen who was forced to give me up. Beautiful, tragic… I saw her as a martyr. So when he said something defamatory… well, I didn't let it pass. I lost control. I don't even remember now what he said."

Harry sat back in his chair and pushed his hair behind one ear, then propped his head on his hand. "Did you ever regret it?"

"Never. Regret is for people unable to accept their own actions."

A sad smile curved Harry's lips. "It doesn't make us less prone to it."

"No… no, I suppose it doesn't, does it?"

Harry picked up the quill once more, shaking his head. "Death isn't something a child should have to deal with, no matter who is dealing it out."

"That, Potter, we can agree on. I think I might have hated myself if I had had a different life."

"If you would have had a different life, we wouldn't be here."

It was Harry this time that didn't want to meet the crimson eyes he could feel on him.

Voldemort sneered over the wreckage of his desk, half his mind cursing the demise of his carefully ordered paperwork while the other targeted the cause of the mess. "Potter, you are the most infuriating little shit I have ever had the displeasure of--"

"Shut the hell up, Tom," Harry snarled, wand still held out in front of him and bright eyes locked on crimson. "You started this by being a prat."

"And you decided to be the little Gryffindor fool you are, jumping into the situation without so much as a thought to the consequences?"

"I'd rather be a Gryffindor fool than a heartless Slytherin."

The slur was immature, and Voldemort felt supremely stupid that it managed to infuriate him. Potter's words should not matter in the slightest to him. But they did.

"We can't all be pure as you, Saint Potter."

Potter paused in mid-rant, eyes fluttering rapidly. "What?"

Voldemort gave a wry smirk, eyes shuttered. "You sound quite lovely from your moral highpoint, but how about opening your eyes to reality, Potter? Heartless is the way of the world. These feelings you think that you experience are nothing but delusions of the human race. We care when it benefits us, we feel anger when we are spited, we are sad when we do not get our way. Emotion is a self-serving thing, and I prefer just as well to feel nothing."

"Nothing?" Potter's wand had dropped, and his eyes were narrowed. "Who's fooling themselves now, Tom?"

Voldemort refused to answer, simply setting his desk to rights. It wasn't long before Potter joined him, but it was a long time before either spoke again.

"What did you want to be when you were little?"

Voldemort glared at him without even meeting his eyes, a feat if Harry ever saw one. "Gods, Potter. Do you pull these conversations from your backside?"

Harry waved a hand. "Shut up, your Royal Pratness. I'm just curious. When you were a child, what did you want to grow up to be?"

Voldemort's jaw was twitching spastically, and Harry wondered if he was about to be cursed. But Voldemort only sighed and laid down his quill, reclining in his chair and lacing spidery fingers behind his head, peering at the ceiling. "Honestly? I never had a dream like that. My furthest dream was escaping the hellhole of an orphanage. I hated people and didn't want to work with them. I hated using my intelligence to benefit those rotten excuses for humans. I hated the idea of doing anything but escaping to some far-off place where I could be alone."

"You had no goals? No silly dreams as a child? Come on, Tom, you're just as human as I am… well, vaguely speaking, of course."

Voldemort snorted. "If I did… well, I don't remember them now."

"That's… sad."

"Maybe it is, Potter."

"First year."

"What are you starting now, Potter?"

Harry ignored the drawl and tapped his chin with the eagle feather. "In first year you told me that I was very much like you. Did you really think so, or were you just trying to eliminate me as your enemy?"

A snort was accompanied by the scratching of Voldemort's own quill. "Lazy shit, you're just trying to get out of work again."

Harry gave a sheepish grin and turned back to his paper. "No answer, then?"

"Hmm." Voldemort signed with a flourish at the bottom of the page. "I think at the time I saw similarities, but I couldn't have predicted the truth of how alike we were."

"Except I'm better looking."

Harry couldn't hold back the smirk as he felt a glare leveled on him, humming under his breath. Voldemort huffed but didn't retort.

"Fate is a funny thing, hmm?"

"Fate is a security blanket for those too afraid to take charge of their lives."

"Perhaps…" Harry sighed and pushed his finger in a circle on the desktop. "But sometimes believing in fate is the only thing keeping us going."

"I think a person that survives solely on the trust of fate needs to reexamine their life."

Harry pushed down the urge to ask how he should begin.

Harry leaned back against the manor's gate, inhaling slowly through his nose and feeling rather than attempting to see anything in the darkness around him. September had come to a close and October was already halfway through, and Harry could feel the chill in the air. Eyes closed and face upturned, Harry let the raindrops filter over his skin and soak him to the bone, relaxing back against wrought iron.

"Potter, you barmy brat, what are you doing out here?"

Slowly, lethargically, eyelids fluttered open, and Harry trained eyes he knew would be exceptionally bright on Voldemort. "Feeling. It has been a long time since I experienced the rain."

"Where have you been?"

The question was casual, but Harry could practically feel the curiosity Voldemort was restraining. They had discussed many things in the last weeks, but the last ten years of Harry's life was not one of them. Harry had given a brief outline, but had stuck to his education rather than the people or circumstances around him. The rain dissolved an inch from Voldemort's skin or robes, and Harry wondered what spell he was using. "Does it matter?" he answered eventually. Eyes again slid shut as the rain picked up, and Harry let out a deep sigh as he arched up toward the rain.

"No, I don't suppose it does. But the rain is hardly exceptional."

Harry's head lolled to the side and he gave another smirk. "Exceptionality isn't the only thing that makes thing enjoyable. Sometimes the mundane can be endlessly exciting when you are deprived of it. But anyway, I think the rain is lovely. I always loved it."

Harry hadn't realized how close Voldemort had gotten until he heard the disbelieving scoff from his side, the creak of the gate as a body joined his. "Stupid child."

"Perhaps."

And the rain fell down.

"Harry? Why are you doing homework? C'mon, mate, let's go flying for a bit! First game of the season is in a month, we need to be ready, y'know?"

Harry ground his teeth as he ignored the redhead, continuing to write his Potions essay as if Ron wasn't there. He would be damned if he didn't get good grades this year; he was a grown man with knowledge that surpassed most of the other students (barring, perhaps, Hermione), and there was no way he was going to look like an idiot. He couldn't show the full extent of his knowledge, but he could at least present himself as a passably intelligent student.

"Harry, mate, what's with you lately? You've turned into Hermione!"

"Ronald! That's just rude! I'm glad Harry is taking his education seriously for once, I mean, you could learn from him! This year and next are the most important we will face, and I can't believe you are letting yourself get left behind…"

Harry tuned the conversation out with much exasperation. This was the same thing that had happened every day for the last week, and Harry was being slowly driven insane by his once best friends. He loved them, surely, but the utter childishness of the two of them put together was taking its toll. He had work to attend to anyway.

It was nearly Halloween now, the air colder and the weather harsher. Every week Harry had managed to get away undetected to meet with Tom, and their plans at the Ministry were coming along well. Hogwarts was another matter altogether. Harry was wary to risk his or Dante's positions to overthrow Dumbledore early; besides, he had hoped to have created the seeds of doubt before taking down the Light icon. It wouldn't do for the old man to go down as a martyr, after all.

Without a word, Harry closed his Potions book, cast a drying charm on the newly written ink, rolled up his assignment scroll, and walked away. Neither of the two arguing sixth years noticed.

With a long sigh, Harry pushed his hand through his short hair, annoyed at the flyaway spikes that perpetually stood on end, existing for the sole purpose of helping along Harry's dwindling sanity into nothingness. He needed a break from his fifteen year old persona, and he needed it now. His feet automatically set him on a path towards Dante's rooms. Technically, it could get the elder vampire fired that Harry knew the location of his rooms, but with all the rules Dumbledore bent for him, he couldn't see it being a problem if he was caught.

As if fate was once again attempting to be contrary for the sake of it, Harry's senses alerted him to another presence approaching. There was nowhere to hide in this stretch of hallway, and no time to go another direction. Harry cursed mentally and shoved his hands into his pockets.

It was no surprise to Harry, whom was used to the worst things happening by now, that it was Severus Snape who swooped into the dark hallway, piercing black eyes immediately homing in on Harry and a challenging smirk lighting his features. "Well, well, Potter. Whatever are you doing in this wing of the castle? I'm sure you know it is forbidden to students. Whatever shall we do?" he drawled sarcastically.

Harry had to try very hard not to roll his eyes. "Really, sir? I apologize; I had not been aware. I needed to get an assignment from Professor Pierce, so I thought I would try to find his rooms."

Severus sneered. "And you thought it would be alright to traipse around in the teacher's wing? For shame, Potter."

Harry very nearly punched the man simply for the thrill of it, but held himself back with tense muscles. "I apologize, sir, for unknowingly breaking the rules. I will go back to my common room now."

Surprise flickered over the Potion Master's features for a quick moment before thin lips pursed. "See that you do, Potter. Detention with me tonight after dinner."

Harry cursed mentally; his meeting with Voldemort was tonight. He decided that he would very much love to make the Dark Lord Crucio his professor, and decided to bring it up before the next Death Eater meeting. "Yes, sir," he ground out, brightening eyes flashing.

With that, Harry spun on his heel back in the direction he came, intent on waiting until the snarky professor was gone so he could get to Dante. A plan would have to be made; he couldn't risk his automatic Reversion happening while he was stuck with Snape. His weekly meetings with Voldemort had become his time to renew the potion's effects. He scowled darkly once he was out of Snape's sight, a million causes of seemingly accidental death running through his head. He could kill the git easily and get away with it, he knew… but he still believed Snape had his uses.

He waited for the Professor's footsteps to fade away before he dashed around the corner, no longer caring to hide his inhuman speed. He didn't want to risk another run in with a staff member. He skidded to a halt outside Dante's rooms and hissed out the Parseltongue override password; a simple /Open/ at any non-portrait door did the trick.

Dante looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow at Harry. "What brings you here?"

Harry huffed and threw himself into a squashy chair, tapping his foot against the hardwood floor. "I needed to get the hell away from the immature fools I call my friends. Merlin, was I half this bad?"

Dante rolled feline blue eyes. "Of course you were. It comes with the territory of being sixteen."

"Hermione has turned seventeen already, and she's so mature for her age… but put her in a room with Ron and she reverts to a bloody first year."

"Of course they seem immature to you; you're a twenty-six year old man playing the part of a child. It may not seem to be that big of a gap, but think of the ten years you spent in Sceaduwe. You aren't the same boy you were last you saw them."

"I suppose not," Harry said disconsolately, picking at the hem of his robes. "I'm just getting restless, I guess. There is only so much gathering and planting of information I can do… I feel so damned useless. It will be months yet before our plans can be set into motion. I want out of this brat factory! I want to be going on raids more than once a month, and I want to be able to be myself in front of whomever I chose. This is getting ridiculous!"

Dante had been peering into his book during Harry's rant, and looked up after several long silent moments. "Oh, are you done whinging yet? I wasn't sure… you seemed so happy to continue."

Harry scowled.

"You're being a fool, Mylläkkä. How do you expect to handle immortality if you get this antsy after a month?"

"Nearly two months."

"Now you just sound like a child."

"It must be all the ones I'm surrounded with -- present company included."

Per usual, the vampire didn't rise to the bait, the slight lift of one golden eyebrow the only acknowledgment Harry got.

"Whatever, Dante."

"If it would make you feel better, Mylläkkä, you should start feeling out those you wish to tell. It would not hurt to have more people on your side, aware of who you really are. Let a select few see past the Harry Potter they think they know."

"Ah, and then one runs to Dumbledore and I have to fight a duel on campus, all the teachers and students on his side, and wards preventing me from using most of my favorite curses."

"Again, you're being a petulant child. Stop acting like you actually are a student, and start acting like the Lord you are supposed to be. I refuse to deal with you when you're like this."

Harry ran his hands over his face, grimacing. "I apologize, Dante. The stress is getting to me."

"Close your eyes, relax, and try to think of people you think could handle the truth. I'll read until you've finished. It will clear your mind to think of something rational right now."

Harry gave a nod to the blond and smiled gratefully. "Alright, then."

Severus Snape prided himself on being an observant man.

No one got away with anything in his classroom that he didn't want them to, no students managed to slip past his guard. He noticed things others would ignore, and learned things from them that others could not fathom.

Hence how Severus knew that his favorite student had been correct. There was something wrong with Harry Potter.

Oh, the boy seemed the same. He laughed with his friends, mouthed off to authority, and brooded sullenly like any angst-filled teen. Weasley and Granger were never far from his side. But Severus Snape saw deeper.

He saw the shrewd looks that overtook Potter's previously oblivious features. He saw the annoyed, quickly covered glares shot at Potter's friends. He saw the dark expressions that would pass over the boy's countenance, and threatening smirks that often peeked through when the boy was lost in thought. His temper, which had always been quick, was now glacial rather than blazing.

Oh, Severus saw all of this. Which was why after his encounter with the boy, he had immediately gone to his rooms to retrieve a Dark artifact from the Prince line which concealed one's aura. He didn't want the vampire -- Pierce, his name was -- feeling him, after all. Severus's cold black eyes narrowed as he neared the rooms of the new Defense teacher; he was sure Potter had come back here, no matter if he had said he was leaving.

Perhaps the two were having an illicit affair? The thought made Severus need to stifle a grin. He could get the vampire and the brat out of the school in one blow! It was brilliant!

As he crept up to the door, the voices leaked out softly. The pair had forgotten a silencing charm, luckily for Severus.

"Damnit, Dante. I forgot to tell you… you wouldn't believe that git Snape! He gave me a detention tomorrow evening! Now what am I going to do?"

Severus snarled silently; the disrespect of that brat! The whiny little snot-nosed…

"Calm down. I will… convince the man otherwise."

A dark eyebrow rose; the vampire thought he would do anything to him? Pitiful.

"You'll do no such thing, Dante. I still don't know where his allegiances lie, and until I do you are to remain inconspicuous…" The boy coughed and Severus could practically hear the grin in his voice. "Well, as inconspicuous as you get."

Now a chill ran down Severus's spine. Why did the boy care of his allegiance?

"Brat."

"But you love me anyway."

Forgetting the apprehensive feeling, Severus's ears perked once more. So the two were lovers!

A snort. "Whatever you say, Mylläkkä. Have you been bothering that poor blond lately?"

A laugh. "Lucius? Ah, I miss Pretty… I've hardly had any time to entertain myself with him."

"He's twice your age."

"He is not! He's only in his forties!"

A sigh. "You are such a child."

"And you're an old man, Dante. Since when does age matter to Vampires, anyway?"

"It doesn't, but the blond is not a vampire."

"No, he's half Veela though. So is Little Pretty… I figure he's going to catch on soon. Tom and I have a bet going. Tom is sure it will take me coming out and saying it, but I think Little Pretty will get it by Christmas."

"And you are not worried?"

"Nah, not really. Tom and I talked it over, and it won't be detrimental for me to be found out but members of the Dark Sect… in fact, it might be for the best. After all, think of the morale boost it will be to find out that the Boy-Who-Lived is Voldie's partner! The only problem is the question of Snape's allegiance. If he's with us, he needs to learn some respect, and if he's against us… well, then I'll be happy to use him as a snack."

"Mylläkkä, if you fed from him, I would be blamed as the only known vampire."

"Ah… damn."

Severus was sure his heart had stopped. Had coherent thought been possible, he probably would have denied the revelations until his last breath. But in that striking moment of clarity, he could only cycle through the thoughts on an infinite loop.

Harry Potter was a vampire.

Harry Potter was Dark.

Harry Potter was the Dark Lord's partner Mylläkkä.

Revised: 3/18/09 (This chapter is cheesy! OMFG!)