Disclaimer: I does not own. I does not want to. Would be shite if I owned. XD

//This is Parseltongue.//

Paraselenic

Façade // the way something appears on the surface, especially when that appearance is false

The Malfoys plus Harry were seated in the drawing room when Lucius's right hand darted to his forearm, a grimace of pain reflecting briefly on his face. Harry's eyes lit instantly. "Tom's back?"

Lucius gave a short nod and relaxed. "Apparently so. Would you like to accompany me, my lord?"

"Why would I do that? I can Apparate myself just fine, thank you."

Draco sneered from his place by the fire. "Unless you fancy walking outside of the wards, you will have to go with my father."

Harry gave the young blond a dispassionate look that made him shrink back slightly before standing. "Alright then. We shouldn't keep Tom waiting, should we Pretty?"

Lucius gave him a smirk and stood, a flick of his wand summoning his Death Eater regalia, holding out his arm for Harry. "You do not wish to change, my lord?"

Harry peered down at his outfit; he was dressed rather casually in a pair of trousers and a silvery button-down, but he had no real wish to be more formal. This was his holiday, and damn if he would be formal for anyone… Voldemort or not. Harry walked up to the older man and wrapped an arm around his waist, throwing a wink to the laughing eyes of Narcissa. He liked her quite a bit, she was lovely company, and he had spent much of the last two days with her. Harry locked eyes with Lucius. "No need," he said simply. Lucius nodded and they Disapparated.

They appeared in the centre of the meeting room, many black-clad figures surrounding them, talking in hushed tones. Harry scanned the room quickly and fell upon the pretentious throne at the head, Voldemort's reptilian visage greeting him. Harry did all he could to repress the grin that was threatening to overtake his features as he waved to Lucius and walked quickly to the head of the room.

He hated how girlish he felt at the moment, his heart pounding and his stomach fluttering. It was sentimental and annoying that he wanted to grin like a fool and leap on the other man, simply happy he was returned. Had they not been in a room full of Death Eaters, Harry was rather sure he would have actually stooped to hugging the Dark Lord… amusing though that imagery was, Harry was appalled at his own internal candor.

Finally managing to bypass the genuflecting Death Eaters, Harry let a smile stretch his face as Voldemort turned to face him. He hopped up the steps onto the dais and leaned forward, intruding on Voldemort's personal space impenitently. "Took you damn well long enough, Tom."

Voldemort's lipless mouth curved slightly. "Don't tell me you missed me?"

Harry scoffed loudly but couldn't prevent the heating of his face. He hoped that it wasn't noticeable and put on a cocky smirk. "Why my dear Tom, how could I ever be expected to survive even a moment without you?"

"Ah, but I apologize for ever subjecting you to the horror of existence without my company. Merlin knows your life is endlessly droll and pointless without me." Voldemort placed a hand over his heart before snickering and leaning back into his seat. "I am sure we have much to discuss?"

Harry grew serious. "Yes. You left at the worst time possible and were gone far too long. Much has happened that needs to be brought to your attention."

"We'll get to that once this meeting is over."

"Are you going to tell me what you've been doing? You didn't tell me a bloody thing before you left or while you were gone," said Harry, leaning even closer forward with narrowed eyes.

Voldemort gave a wicked smirk. "You can wait."

"Fine," said Harry, most certainly not pouting as he stood straight. "I need you to hold back your trusted at the end of the meeting, though. Due to incidents you are not aware of since you left, I have found it necessary to reveal my identity now to some of the minions."

"My Inner Circle then?"

"So long as those are the ones you trust, then yes." Harry smirked, glancing back at the group and noticing they were still missing a handful of men. The abnormal length between meetings and the unexpected Calling made it expected for the usual wait time to be longer.

"Is there anything I should know before the meeting begins?"

Harry crept back closer to Tom, his face turned away from the dozens of black-robed figures. He hissed his answer quietly in Parseltongue, as it was unable to be overheard and was mistaken for whispering at low levels. //I have no doubt you are aware that there was a raid on Hogsmeade in your absence to apprehend the traitor in your ranks… while there, Goyle attempted to use the Killing Curse on Harry Potter.//

Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed and flicked past Harry shoulder to where the seniors Crabbe and Goyle stood, a murderous intent emanating from him. //Is that so?//

Harry's lips curled into something of a smile, and though he was unsure whether the rage was directed at an order willfully ignored or towards Harry's own well-being, he liked to pretend it was the latter. He dragged his eyes across the assembly once more, counting heads as he went. They were only missing one, and Harry assumed it to be Snape. The man had to come all the way out of the wards of Hogwarts, after all.

It took nearly five more minutes -- Harry was beginning to honestly worry by this point -- before a crack of Apparition rang through the room, revealing not only the missing Snape as Harry had assumed, but also the uncloaked blond Dante. Harry groaned mentally.

Dante strode forward, unperturbed by the wands on him, stopping at the base of the dais and inclining his head. "Mylläkkä. Voldemort."

Gasps and angry hisses rang through the room, and Harry sighed. "What are you doing here, Dante?"

The blond let a smirk twist his lips. "I believe I told you I wished to come the next time. I simply convinced Snape to bring me."

Harry turned in a seemingly casual way to put his back to the Death Eaters, and Voldemort's brow raised as he saw the dull flush of color staining his partner's cheeks. Amused, Voldemort turned back to the blond man. "I believe we have not been properly introduced."

Dante swept into a half bow, courteous but far from subservient. "Apologies. I am Durante Lukas Peirno, known currently simply as Dante Pierce. I am currently the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but I am usually employed as a guardian and advisor to the Marquis Valerian in Sceaduwe Citadel. I have heard much about you, Voldemort."

There were low muttering throughout the room that their owners could not seem to stifle. A glare from Voldemort silenced them all, but Harry was again impressed at the weight Valerian's name seemed to carry. He had never heard of him until the day they had met, and he was used to the immortals immediately becoming deferential when faced with him, but it was another thing entirely to see mortal witches and wizards becoming fearful with the mention of the vampire's name.

"And I you. You are well known in the History books, and P…" Harry heard Voldemort pause and threw the man an amused look, knowing the man had gotten far too used to referring to him by his surname. "Mylläkkä here has spoken of you often."

"I must say that he speaks of you… often… as well." This was said with a wicked smirk, much more expressive than Dante's usual looks, and Harry was thankful he had kept his back turned to the Death Eaters as his face flamed again, a scowl setting over his face.

"That is enough, Dante," he hissed, glaring at him over his shoulder. "You will hold all conversation until this meeting is concluded. If I had known you were serious about attending I might have prepared."

The elder vampire looked seriously into the younger's eyes, lips pursed as he read how annoyed he was making him. "As you wish, Mylläkkä."

Voldemort watched the byplay with interest, eyes darting back and forth between the two. Harry was sure he wanted answers.

"You may stand off to the side until the meeting has concluded," said Voldemort with a wave of his hand. "We will converse once I get rid of the morons who can't even seem to deal with a month without me."

The bodies of the Death Eaters were deathly still and Harry turned with a blank expression to watch the proceedings. On the outside, the vampire Mylläkkä was watching Voldemort call on his minions, taking lengthy reports and doling out punishment for unsatisfactory results. But on the inside, Harry was fuming and annoyed, silently cursing the cocky blond who was watching so nonchalantly from the wall. He loved Dante, honestly he did… but there had been a few times in their decade of friendship that Harry wished strangling him would have an effect.

This was one of those times.

The meeting was boring, and Harry spent an inordinate amount of time peering at Voldemort's reptilian visage from the corner of his eye. He tried his damndest to reconcile the strange squeezing of his chest with the pale, spindly man on the throne, his heart hammering every time those crimson eyes slid to meet his gaze. What was wrong with him? Why had elation spread through him the second he had realized Voldemort had returned? Why had be wanted shake the man and question why hadn't written more, assured him he was safe? Why had his first instinct been to merely touch the man somehow, to assure himself all was fine? It wasn't lust… that he was used to. Lust and mere interest were common and easy to define with the fluttering sensations and eye-glazing fantasies.

Was this the true extent of having real feelings for someone?

Harry didn't know if he liked it.

Harry gave a quiet, self-depreciating laugh when the cracks of Disapparition startled him from his daze. He must have been quite out of it as he saw two Death Eaters lugging the lolling figure of the elder Goyle away, signifying that Harry had managed to zone out through the torture. Vaguely, Harry wondered if the burly man was dead; though his limbs still twitched spastically, that could be a result of nerve damage to the corpse. Harry trailed his eyes over those who had walked forward and placed themselves in a crescent at the base of the dais. These were Voldemort's elite, his Inner Circle. He surveyed them critically.

There was Lucius, of course, pulling off his mask and pushing back his hood. The man caught his eyes for a moment and raised a brow, though he pointedly ignored the salacious grin Harry sent him. The man was standing by his mandate from Harry's first night in the manor, and though he was pleased with Lucius for it, it was maddening.

Severus stood by his side, equine nose angled up per usual. Once his loyalties had been affirmed, Harry had suggested the man be made privy to the Inner meetings. After all, he was the only Death Eater in Hogwarts with Harry, and if Harry was going to make decisions he wanted the man's opinions. This was assuming Severus could hold his tongue… but Harry was hardly worried about it in front of Voldemort. Severus had spent years watching his tongue in front of the Dark Lord, after all.

Beside Severus was Rabastan Lestrange, slightly younger brother to Rodolphus. Harry didn't think there could be more than a year or two between them. If same-sex fraternal twins weren't so rare in the magical world, Harry might have believed they could have been. He was sickly pale and gaunt, his eyes somewhat glassy but his bearing proud.

Rodolphus was next, husband to Bellatrix. Unlike his brother, he was actually rather ruggedly handsome, Harry thought, despite his years in Azkaban. His face was broad and he had a strong jaw line that was lined with a close-cropped beard. His eyes were alert and without the haunted cast Harry was used to associating with Azkaban escapees, his posture rigid as he stood waiting his lord's command.

Next was Bellatrix, who really needed no introduction. Her face had filled out a bit in the intervening months since the Department of Mysteries debacle, but she still had the wildness to her eyes that gave Harry the distinct impression that she was barely holding on to her mind. Currently, she was intermittently glaring in his direction and looking to Voldemort with reverence, something that make Harry smirk. He loved toying with the woman, and playing on his closeness with Voldemort was the best way to do that, surpassing any torture that could be inflicted.

Antonin Dolohov stood to her other side, lined face set in a grim expression. Harry rather thought that was his usual look, though. He didn't like the man on sight, remembering the purple curse he had hit Hermione with. He didn't hold a grudge, really, but the man just rubbed him the wrong way. He was one of the oldest Death Eaters still living, his grayed hair thinned across the temples.

Walden Macnair and Augustus Rookwood ended the line, the two former Ministry informants looked much the same as they had the last Harry had seen them in the Department of Mysteries, Macnair's moustache, though, was missing. Rookwood, also, now sported a long scar from his temple down his neck, though Harry didn't have a clue how he'd gotten it. It stood out even among the pockmarks that littered his face, an angry red speaking of recent scarring.

Harry watched the last of the lower ranked Death Eaters disappear and dropped to sit on the ground, unperturbed of the looks of disdain he received. Unlike the others in the room, he saw no correlation between power and decorum, and Harry couldn't honestly care less about what those who didn't know him thought of him. He wasn't about to pull a Dumbledore and summon a chair, and he wouldn't stand and be uncomfortable while the reports were given. As Death Eaters, the eight of them had no choice. Harry on the other hand did. Harry leaned against Voldemort's seat beside the man's legs, green eyes flicking to red. Voldemort nodded barely with a bemused smirk and tapped long fingers on the arm of his throne. "Lucius. Report."

Lucius took a single step forward, bowing low. "My lords. The Minister has been agitated as of late and whispers are beginning that he is considering allying himself with the Order of the Phoenix. Since the prophecy was leaked to the media in November, he feels that getting on the Order's side will put him in Potter's good graces."

Harry snorted loudly, causing all eyes to flick his direction. Voldemort glared. Harry, of course, ignored him.

Lucius went on without acknowledging the interruption. "The Minister will no longer listen to my counsel since my arrest," gray eyes made an aborted motion to glare at Harry and ended up looking like a twitch, "but the general consensus is that it would be foolish to ally with Dumbledore. They are still convinced the old man wishes to take the Ministry himself."

Voldemort brought his fingers to his lipless mouth, absently running them across it. "When do you think this will end up having an effect?"

"Perhaps the end of the school year, my lord."

"Then it's a moot point," Harry put in, cocking his head at Lucius. "Because by then, Dumbledore will be dead. I think you should play on these fears they have, Pretty. We decided early on we'd leave Fudge in office for now, both for his malleability and the doubts he forms in people. The longer he stays on, the more people will fear where the Wizarding world is being taken. I'll have Dumbledore out of the picture soon enough."

Bellatrix was sneering, her face twisted. Harry could tell she had been beautiful at some point, but between the effects of Azkaban and her repugnant expressions, there was little to enjoy. "Awfully confident, aren't you? Seems to me that you do nothing around here! You call yourself a partner to my lord and yet you're hardly ever here! Unworthy fool, what makes you think that you can defeat Dumbledore when my lord has yet been able to?!"

Voldemort's yew wand was raised immediately, but Harry laid a hand on his knee. "No, please, allow me. I think it's long past my turn."

Voldemort's crimson eyes were narrowed dangerously, the glare piercing Harry, but he refused to back down. If they were meant to be equals, the Dark Lord would just have to deal with it. Harry was normally content to let Voldemort handle things… he had no interest in supremacy, after all. Sighing, Harry pulled out his wand and leveled it on the faltering brunette. "Tsk tsk, Bella. You not only insulted your new lord, but you managed to imply your Lord Voldemort was incompetent. Crucio."

Bellatrix hit her knees almost immediately, dark eyes crossing in pain. Harry grinned and leaned forward, locking his green eyes with her. "You said to me once, Bella," he said in a cheerful voice, "that I had to mean it for the Cruciatus to work. That I needed to really want to cause pain -- to enjoy it. Can you feel how much I'm enjoying it now, Bellatrix?" The woman could take no more and screamed, back bowing and her head connecting with the floor with a dull thud. Harry chuckled.

Sweeping his eyes over the other Death Eaters, Harry stood from his spot beside Voldemort's legs and brushed back his hair. "For those of you in this room who are not already aware, I shall be introducing myself to you now. This information is not to cause you any less deference than I deserve and you will find very quickly that I do not tolerate insubordination." He paused to give a wicked grin down at Bellatrix who was dragging herself to her feet. "While I am known as Mylläkkä, I was born as Harry Potter." He smirked at the widened eyes. "Come now, you know me… the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Golden Boy, prophesized conqueror of the scary Dark Lord…"

Voldemort snorted inelegantly. "Flair for dramatics much?"

Harry grinned and bowed mockingly to the Death Eaters before taking his seat again, leaning this time purposefully against Voldemort's legs and watching Bellatrix's wan face turn livid red. He tilted his head back to meet amused crimson eyes. "You should now that by now, dear Voldemort." He turned his eyes back on the either before him, looking to each of them in turn. "I may not be here as often as you deem I should be, but that is a perk of being the one in power. You have no say whatsoever. I will not justify myself to you, Bellatrix, nor anyone else. Anyone who needs to know where I spend my time already knows."

"Potter?! I refuse to…" Bellatrix began, ignoring the jerk her husband have to her arm and the disapproving look.

"Refuse to what, Bella? I think you have no say whatsoever," Voldemort hissed, leaning forward over Harry's shoulder. "I am well aware of who he is and what I am doing. Next time you deign yourself worthy to question me, remember this. Crucio." This time, she screamed instantly, writhing on the ground under her second Cruciatus in as many minutes. When she was released there were unwilling tears lining her face.

"Does ickle Bellie hurt?" Harry prodded, grinning at the clenching of the woman's fists.

Before either of them could make the situation worse, Voldemort cut in. "May I commence with the meeting now, Potter, or do you have more thespian skill to awe us with?" There was a dangerous tone beneath the pleasant veneer to the man's voice that Harry ignored.

"Oh, by all means."

Voldemort glared but turned back to his gobsmacked Death Eaters. "Macnair! Rookwood! Have either of you managed to reconnect with your Ministry informants?"

Harry let his attentions drift once more, distracted by the warm limbs at his back and the memory of hot breath over his neck when the man had been leaning over him. Really, he had always imagined the man to be cold. He ignored the chill that ran down his spine and fought off the content fog that threatened to lay across his mind. He tried to focus on the dual screams of Rookwood and Macnair as they were tortured for being unable to make contacts after their imprisonments, but found his mind drifting back to recriminations and annoyance. What was he, anyway, an adolescent schoolgirl?

Harry was jolted back to reality when he felt something butting against his hand impatiently and looked down to see Nagini's large head glaring up at him from his lap. //I see how it is, brat. You welcome home Master yet ignore my greatness. Can't rightly see anything else in the room when Master's about, can you?//

Harry scowled down at the snake but obliged her needy bumping with a few strokes between her eyes. //I didn't even know you were there so how do you assume I am ignoring you? Don't be foolish.//

The huge snake coiled at his side. //Use your stick to make me warm, brat. Master does not allow me to settle upon him when his underlings are hanging about. I don't suppose you would either, would you?//

//You are both being exceptionally distracting,// Voldemort inputted suddenly, glaring at them and causing Harry to realize they had become the center of attention. //It's bad enough I can understand you and have to try and ignore you both, but you're catching attention, Potter. Stop now. You two can witter on once the Death Eaters have left.//

Harry glared silently up at Voldemort but didn't bother to argue, feeling a bit like a reprimanded child.

"Lucius, did you manage for the Minister to accept your invite to your Winter Ball?"

Harry's attention was pulled back into the meeting. He had known about the Ball, of course, as he had been helping Narcissa to plan it with the House elves, but he hadn't been aware the Minister would be attending. The blond was looking at Voldemort. "Yes sir, once he realized how much of high society was attending it was inevitable. He accepted last night."

Harry glared at Lucius for not telling him but kept silent as Voldemort closed the meeting. Harry stood and walked to the blond with a raised eyebrow. "Any reason you didn't tell me about the Minister?"

Lucius gave him a wry look. "You spent half the night up with Narcissa planning the damnable thing, I was under the impression she would have mentioned the possibility."

"Still jealous?" Harry chuckled, watching Voldemort order Rabastan and Rodolphus to take away the unconscious Macnair and Rookwood. Apparently, the Dark Lord had been most displeased with them. "Anyway, it's no matter really. I think I will be staying here for the night if Tom is amenable… we have too much to discuss for me to keep you waiting."

Dante, who had been silently observing, smirked faintly. "I'm sure…"

"Dante, shouldn't you be getting back to Hogwarts?" Harry said in the sweetest voice possible, his icy eyes contradicting the tone.

"Without the mark of your Voldemort, I cannot Apparate out of these wards. I must await Snape… unless you mean to show me the way to the entrance hall?"

Harry turned and sought out Severus, nearly desperate to be rid of his friend. He found him a few feet away, a bored expression over his features. "I was waiting to ask… my lord a question."

"Well, what is it?"

"I wondered the ages of those you wished me to pass along to you."

Harry sighed. "Just fifth and sixth years. Seventh years will be useless as they will be graduated by the time they are needed, and I have no want to try and put up with any younger than that."

Severus bowed, and Harry was struck by how uncommonly obedient and respectful Snape was being. "If that is all?"

"You may go. And take this annoying bastard with you, please?"

"We will talk about this later, Mylläkkä. Have no doubt about that," said Dante.

"I have no doubt." He stared into the slit-pupiled blue eyes of the elder Vampire, a rough tension surrounding them. Harry knew his friend meant well, but when he had yet to accept any of this himself, he didn't need Dante's brand of 'help'.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow from where he was still lounging on his throne. "Were there not matters to discuss with me, Pierce?"

Dante bowed. "No, Voldemort, I merely wished to watch one of these meetings. It helps me to be acquainted with procedure for the future, as I am pledged to Mylläkkä for the next ten years."

Harry saw by the look on Voldemort's face that he was unconvinced, but he allowed the blond to take Snape's arm and Disapparate.

Soon, with threats to Bellatrix, Harry and Voldemort had managed to clear the room of the last of the Death Eaters and were making their way back to Voldemort's study in the back of the manor, Nagini hissing happily from where she was wrapped around her master's shoulders. They reached the room and Harry raised his eyebrow as the Dark Lord hovered in the doorway. "Not sure what to do with yourself after being gone for weeks, Tom?"

Voldemort frowned. "You're unusually cheeky tonight."

Harry waved his hand negligently. "You should be used to it by now. Well, are you coming in or not? We have much to talk about."

"I trust you can entertain yourself for twenty minutes? I refuse to do anything before I've taken a shower. I called the Death Eaters immediately after returning."

Harry gave the man an incredulous look. "It can't wait?"

"Salazar, no. I missed my bathroom more than anything else while I was gone. It feels like… a lifetime since I've been able to enjoy it," he said slyly.

"You missed a room… a room in which you relieve yourself, I might add… more than me?!" Harry asked with an exaggerated pout. "I am so offended!" Harry paused before dropping the theatrical act. "Anyway, I thought this mansion was purely muggle. What's there to miss?"

"As if I would leave the manor as disgustingly mundane as I found it. Entertain yourself with beginning the reports I missed while I was gone, won't you?"

Harry gaped as the man smirked and left the room with a snap of his robes, leaving Harry staring in horror at the pile of papers that would have undoubtedly fallen over if not for magic. It swayed perilously as he watched, and Harry held back a groan. Just for leaving him, Harry was going to work really, really slowly.

An hour later, Harry was staring blankly at the precarious stack, trying to figure out what could possibly be taking Voldemort so long. He had managed a handful of the papers before he had gotten tired of not understanding what was written, his brain too stuck on finally getting his answers to concentrate. He stood and spun around towards the doorway that Voldemort had vacated and made his way up the stairs that led to the living quarters in the upper floors of the manor.

He used the sixth sense his scar gave him to search out where Voldemort was, growling as he found the man to be on the fourth floor. 'Of course he would be on the topmost floor,' Harry thought sarcastically, 'Because he can't make anything easy on me…' The stairs were narrow and dark, only small sconces of magically created light illuminating it. The way was dusty due to the years with no one as an inhabitant other than Voldemort himself; even the manor's few House elves wouldn't go beyond the public floor.

The door was left open to the room his senses told him Voldemort was in. He chuckled under his breath as he listened before entering, the slow, even breathing signifying that Voldemort had fallen asleep. Oh, but Harry would love teasing him for this one once he'd woken him.

Harry froze in his tracks once he'd pushed open the door more widely, hand still on the antique knob and one foot poised to take a step inside. His heart rate sped and he could practically feel his eyes dilating.

Because Voldemort was not on the bed. No. Despite the expanses of lightly muscled pale skin that glowed in the moonlight distracting him, and despite the wet dark hair, graying slightly at the temples, that obscured half the man's face, Harry knew who it was immediately. It was not Voldemort.

It was Tom Riddle.

Revised: 3/19/09