Disclaimer: I do not own.

//This is Parseltongue.//

Paraselenic

Fealty // fidelity to a lord

Harry looked up from his half meditative state. "What am I going to do, Dante? This meeting with Tom is important; we have to put the finishing touches on our plan for Halloween."

Dante tapped his fingers against the hard cover of his book, face expressionless but eyes narrowed. "You need to discover his loyalties or kill him. Simple as that. If he is loyal, you tell him who you are and you go to your meeting… if he is not, then you kill him."

Harry sighed and crumpled in half, hitting his forehead on his knees, "I didn't want risks like this this early. I don't want any hints thrown out until at least Christmas. I can't afford to be found out, yet!"

"You need to discover his loyalties, Mylläkkä, it is not a matter of your wants. You cannot afford to have a traitor running around."

Harry sighed and tugged on his short hair roughly, yanking it while his eyes glossed over. "But how… "

Dante let out a huff of air. "Well, I hope your acting skills are up to par."

"Eh?"

Dante closed his eyes and waited for Harry to actually use his enhanced senses; he knew when the younger vampire had by the curses that left his lips.

"Where is his aura?!"

"He obviously underestimated me, thinking that merely masking his aura would keep me in the dark. However, he is wearing boots on stone, no matter how softly he walks it resonates."

Harry cursed again and met eyes with his instructor. "So we put on a show, then?"

Dante smirked. "Of course, Mylläkkä."

Harry waited until he could feel Snape's heartbeat just outside the room before beginning, mentally scowling at what he was being forced into. "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?"

"Calm down. I will… convince the man otherwise." Dante let a small smirk drift across his face, and the implications nearly sent Harry chuckling.

Trying to retain his straight face, Harry sighed. "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… " he coughed to cover his amusement. "Well, as inconspicuous as you get."

"Brat."

"But you love me anyway," Harry said with a sly grin, making Dante snort and roll his eyes.

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

Harry laughed and closed his eyes, grinning widely. "Lucius? Ah, I miss Pretty… I've hardly had any time to entertain myself with him."

"He's twice your age," Dante deadpanned.

"He is not! He's only in his forties!" Harry waved his arms about, fully immersed in his role and ignoring the exasperated glare from Dante.

A sigh. "You are such a child."

Harry glared with really annoyance. "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?" Harry understood that Dante was trying to force him back on course and sighed, nodding to the blond.

"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."

Dante rolled his eyes more exaggeratedly than Harry had ever seen him, obviously exasperated at Harry's obvious 'acting'. "Mylläkkä, if you fed from him, I would be blamed as the only known vampire."

"Ah… damn."

They both glanced to the door when they heard Snape take a clumsy step backward, and Harry nodded to Dante. Harry should take care of this. He stalked to the door and flung it open, the smirk on his face unpleasant. "Well hello there Professor… fancy seeing you here."

Severus's black eyes were wide as Harry grabbed him by the front of his robes and yanked him into the room, uncaring of any reaction the snarky man might have. Once the door was spelled shut behind them, Harry released Severus and strolled back to his chair, reclining slightly and peering at the man over his false glasses, "It's bad manners to eavesdrop, you know."

Snape's lip curled, a bit of himself shining through. "You little brat!"

Harry's eyes narrowed as he stood once more, stalking towards the snarling man. "I would consider showing some respect, Snape. You are in a very precarious position."

"And just what do you think you can do?" Severus snarled, refusing to take a step back from the short sixteen year old, despite the chill of apprehension that jolted down his spine at the look in Killing Curse eyes. "You arrogant little brat, do you think you're playing a game? Strutting around like you own the world… do you think the Dark is something you can play in?"

"Listen to me now," Harry hissed, the palpable fury in his eyes finally forcing his Potions professor back against the wall, black eyes wary. Harry had no patience for this man. "You're a presumptuous, sarcastic, greasy, bitter old berk. You've done nothing but try your damndest to make my life a living hell because my father, whom I might remind you I have never known, was an arrogant git. I realize this. However, despite your astounding intelligence and cunning, you seem unable to reconcile with the fact that I am not my father."

Harry pulled out his wand carelessly, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger before harshly jabbing it forward under Snape's chin, feeling vindicated by the harsh intake of air. He kept the wand pushed painfully against the man's neck as he continued speaking, thrilled as he saw the telltale signs of discoloration already forming. "Despite my problems with your atrocious attitude Severus, I respect you and your sacrifices. Thusly, I have decided to extend a chance for you to live through this year. Trust me, I have no qualms whatsoever in killing you where you stand, and I know at least a dozen ways to do it that wouldn't be traceable. But I think you are an intelligent man. You've been forced to risk yourself spying for years under one master or another with little personal gain to yourself, dodging scrutiny from both sides. Now, I am giving you a choice."

He let the pressure of the wand lessen minutely, but the look in his eyes didn't falter. "You can either suck up your conceited pride, work with the son of your childhood enemy, and be free of spying at the end of the school year, or you can have your corpse found at the bottom of the Astronomy tower tomorrow morning. I know plenty of ways to kill you that would keep suspicion off myself and my associate here," he waved a hand in Dante's general direction, "so don't think the blocks on all the good curses will stop me."

Severus's snarl remained in place, but he knew a corner when he was backed into one. He would not live to see another day if he crossed this boy. He loathed the brat in front of him with every fiber of his being, his excuses about not knowing his father be damned. But he knew power when he saw it, and currently power was roiling around Harry Potter, almost tangible in the air around him. Severus had been playing both sides for as long as he could remember, walking the fence with a precision others could not dream of. He had perfectly skirted the edges of Dark and Light, ill-content to wind up on the losing side.

So he had bided his time, working intimately within the Light, directly under Dumbledore's ever-watching twinkling eyes. Dumbledore, for all his good intentions, played with them all like chess pieces. And Severus was his Dark Knight, black painted white painted black again, and deeply embroiled in the enemy's side. Dumbledore was visibly saddened to send Severus on the dangerous tasks he set, but Severus could always see that gleam enter the old man's eyes that spoke of 'Anything for the Greater Good.' His manipulations were so cloaked that few ever even knew he was controlling their every move.

The Dark Lord was a different matter altogether. He was cruel, cold, and conniving. If he didn't like something you did, you were in pain so deep that you wished for death. If you really managed to anger him, you knew no more than the bright green of Avada Kedavra. He was callous and cold, uncaring what problems he may bring you so long as it brought him his ends. Severus's two 'Masters' were alike in this way. But the Dark Lord took no care to hide what he was like. No one entered into his service expecting candy and sunshine. When one took the Dark Mark, they knew they were signing up for torture sessions and killing. But they also knew that the Dark Sect would bring about change in a world that so sorely needed it.

Severus had been Dark for as long as he could remember. He brought death upon others without batting an eyelash, traversed the shadows with ease. He had been sorted into Slytherin for a reason, after all; he craved power and could manipulate any situation to fit his needs, and was one of the most cunning people alive in the Wizarding world. How else would he have stayed alive this long without having any clear loyalties?

But here he was staring into bright green eyes, painfully familiar eyes, and he knew the war was lost for the Light. Dumbledore may have been the Light's icon, but Harry Potter was its weapon. He was the one everyone expected to end the war. And Severus had a sinking suspicion that this young man would be the one to end the war… but not for the side everyone expected him to. This Potter was ruthless and calculating and he had blood on his hands. Severus knew the look of a killer. There was still empathy in those eyes that were the perfect mirror of Lily Evans, but it was drown by the will to do anything to get what he wanted. Severus was sure of this. And so, Severus clenched his jaw.

"Fine, Potter. I have no will to die."

Harry smirked and let off the pressure of his wand a little more. "Remember what I said about respect, Severus? If you do not wish to die you are going to have to acknowledge me as your Lord. I don't give a damn when you think of me, but you will give me deference. Can you handle that?"

Black eyes narrowed to slits. "Yes," he managed to grind out.

"Good." Harry released his hold and pocketed his wand. "Now, you're going to let me out of detention, because I absolutely have to meet with Tom tonight. Halloween is in five days, you know."

Severus hid his clenched fists. "Fine."

"What was that, Severus?"

A hissing noise escaped between clenched teeth. "Yes, my lord."

"Ah, good."

Potter was far too smug, grin tilting his mouth. Severus wished he could cuff the boy upside his moronic Potter head.

"For now, I want you to keep your eyes open. I need to know what the students are talking about in regards to the war, in regards to me. I want to know the names of students who are questioning Dumbledore. I want to know if there are any beings seeing things they shouldn't about me. Can you handle this, Severus?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You can go now, then."

Severus took in a deep breath, nodding his head curtly before spinning on his heel and sweeping from the room, scowl deepened to frightening proportions. He could feel Potter grinning behind his back.

"Well, that went well, didn't it Dante?"

Dante's sigh was the last thing Severus heard, and it was pleasing to know that he wasn't the only one Potter drove to the brink of sanity.

Harry sashayed his way into Voldemort's office with a raised eyebrow, seeing the two masked Death Eaters that hurriedly bowed to him and ran out the door. "Terrorizing the minions again, Tom? Isn't that bad form?"

Voldemort didn't bother looking up from the paper he was hurriedly marking and scowled. "You're late, brat."

"Well excuse me, but your little minion Snape decided to eavesdrop on Dante and I. He knows now, by the way."

Crimson eyes shot up to meet verdant ones. "And?"

"He's a self-preserving little bugger; we have nothing to fear from him."

"Well, now that you're here I hope you're ready for a raid. This will be bloodier than the last one."

Harry eyes lit up with a grin. "Oh? Where are we going, the Ministry?"

A snort. "Hardly. We have not progressed nearly that far."

"I hope you aren't planning some muggle massacre again, Tom. We've discussed the disadvantages to it."

"Not a massacre, no, but we are going after some muggles."

Harry raised an eyebrow before the smug look on Voldemort's face made sense. "Oh you've got to be kidding me! Why in the hell are we doing that?"

Voldemort's smug look didn't dim. "Because it would be a perfect deterrent for Halloween. No one will look twice at Harry Potter being dismayed over his only living family's death, giving you more time to work out the kinks in the plan."

Harry sighed and ran his hand over his face, glaring at the older man. "And if I object?"

"Why would you? You told me the stories."

And Harry had. After the last Death Eater's meeting the two had spent several hours relaying some of the more memorable moments of their lives… from the good to the bad. Harry was unceasingly amazed by how comfortable he felt in his former nemesis's presence, even speaking of things he had never told a soul. Perhaps it was the true similarities they shared that erased all Harry's qualms of sharing his less than stellar childhood, the knowledge that of anyone he knew, the reptilian man would understand. Likewise, Voldemort had spared little thought to sharing his own experiences with Harry, from the first true friend he'd made to a severe beating he had received from some of the older boys in the orphanage when he was five. Harry had nearly been late back from that meeting, hardly arriving before dawn.

"Yes, and I don't give a damn if they live or die, but would you call off the raid if I asked you to?"

Solemnly, crimson eyes met with piercing green and held, the two just staring for long minutes. "No."

Harry stiffened and planted his hands on the Dark Lord's desk, his lip curving in a snarl. "And why not?"

"Because they are the type of muggle that deserves extermination, Potter," Voldemort hissed back, leaning closer to the fuming man. "And I will see them dead for treating a wizard that way."

Harry blinked several times before a sly smile crept over his lips. "Oh Tom… " he sung out.

Voldemort stiffened and looked away from the mischievous eyes. "What in the hell are you looking at me like that for, brat?"

"I know your secret!"

"You do not, you little twerp! Now get out of here and prepare for the raid!"

Harry ignored him and poked Voldemort in the side of his bald head. "You care, don't you? The big, bad, evil Dark Lord cares about Harry Potter!"

Voldemort snarled and shoved 13 ½ inches of yew into Harry's face. "Shut your damned mouth, Potter."

Unfazed, Harry grinned. "You care!"

"Cruor incondite!"(1) Voldemort seethed out, Harry barely managing to fall into a dodging roll in time.

"You asshole, that nearly hit me!" Harry shouted, hands balling into fists. The spell would have rendered nearly all his consumed blood useless and forced him to have more immediately while contending with terrible, debilitating pain, whereas it would have killed someone fully human nearly instantly.

"That was the point."

Harry was used to this by now. Several times over the last two months they had argued heavily enough to end up dueling, usually when Harry continued prodding the reptilian man on subjects he preferred to ignore. The insinuation or outright accusation of having any feelings beyond the more base ones was something Voldemort did not take kindly to.

Harry shot back a Bone-Twisting hex that would have left the older man unable to walk for a few days had it hit, but Harry knew already of the surprising agility that Voldemort possessed. He merely slid his body fluidly to the left and fired a Severing Charm Harry's way, managing to graze the young Vampire's arm.

"Merlin, you can be such a prick!"

"And you are a child," Voldemort hissed, his voice automatically taking on the snake-like quality in his anger.

"My lords," a drawl came from the doorway, instantly perking Harry's attention. "We should be leaving soon."

Lucius stood in the doorway with a cool face; he had ended up interrupting these fights already three times, he was used to seeing the two bicker. Though he couldn't figure out why his lord put up with the sass of the vampire, he assumed there was more to the equation than he was aware of. The power that emanated from the twenty-something Vampire was shocking at times, clearly reminding Lucius that the annoyingly cheeky man who wouldn't stop coming onto him was, in fact, powerful enough to reconcile the Dark Lord to partnership.

"We will be right along, Lucius," Voldemort hissed, obviously still annoyed but visibly restraining his temper.

Harry cocked his head at Voldemort with a rare serious expression. "Why do you always have to fight over this crap, Tom? Is it really worth it?"

Voldemort ignored him and pulled off his black cloak, walking to a small wardrobe against the far wall and pulling out his customary blood red robes.

Harry sighed and shook his head, steeling back his shoulders and focusing instead on what was soon to come.

He was going to enjoy making the Dursley's scream.

(1) Cruor incenditur is something like Burning blood. Thanks to Ammene.

Revised: 3/18/09