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

//This is Parseltongue.//

Paraselenic

Ameliorate // to make or become better, more bearable, or more satisfactory

Intensity. That was the only word Harry's foggy waking mind could come up with to describe the events of the night before. The fiery relationship he and Tom shared at the best of times had transmuted itself into an uncontrolled passion easily, leaving both of them scalded in its wake. To Harry, it had been ethereal… though once the hazy fog of lust and need had abated, it left a sour taste in his mouth.

Because, as Tom had said, it meant nothing.

…To Tom, at least.

Harry didn't make it a habit to lie to himself, and he knew the truth quite plainly, no matter how much he didn't understand it and wished it wasn't so. He had hardly been working through his unexplainable feelings for Voldemort the day before, and now here he was nude in bed with the amazingly attractive version of said man. He had a feeling things would get infinitely worse before they got better.

He had never experienced anything like it before. With his trysts, it had been about sex and little else. With Valerian, there had been emotion, but it just hadn't been… powerful. It was more of a comfort, something they did to feel connected to another being. There hadn't been any real passion between them despite the lust they had always felt. Their relationship had been consuming yet easily burnt through, lasting in short spurts of lust and leaving a contentment borne of friendship rather than love.

Harry hated to admit it, but the intensity he had shared the night before with Tom scared him. Badly. Because it meant nothing.

It couldn't mean anything.

Harry banished the angst-ridden thoughts as a warm arm wound around his waist and yanked him to the side, leaving him molded to the equally nude frame of Tom. "Shut up and go back to sleep, Potter, it's too damned early for thinking."

Harry snorted and wriggled until comfortable, producing a groan from the body behind him. "And how would you know whether I was thinking or not? I could have been fantasizing about creative ways to wake you as far as you know."

"You scrunch your nose when you're thinking serious or unpleasant thoughts. Are you going to tell me that a fantasy involving me is unpleasant?" Tom's voice was slurred and drowsy, and Harry wondered if a fully awake Tom would have revealed that he knew what Harry's facial expressions meant.

Harry turned in the lax grip and took in the pillow that was clamped over Tom's head, giggling internally at the thought of his Death Eaters knowing what a child he was when he woke up. Harry dipped his head and trailed his tongue across one collarbone, arching lazily in a path towards the elegant, pale neck. It had been several days since he'd fed, and if he trusted himself to do so he would have loved to have tasted his bed partner in that moment. He had a scent and taste utterly unique to him, and Harry looked forward to finding out what flavor he would be.

Harry sucked at the soft skin of Tom's neck teasingly, ignoring the groggy complaints from under the pillow. "Potter, stop that this instant, you insatiable brat…"

"Feeling old, my dear Tom?" Harry cooed as he continued peppering Tom's neck and chest with attention, kicking his leg over the man to straddle him.

"Yes," was hissed back emphatically, the pillow lifting up to expose tousled dark hair and glaring crimson eyes. "I do not have the energy nor the motivation to keep up with you this early in the morning. Now let me sleep another hour!"

Harry snickered against the gooseflesh he was creating on Tom's stomach. "You are such a whiner in the mornings." Harry moved steadily down, green eyes still locked on narrowed red. "If you stop complaining, you won't have to do anything but lie there…"

A long-fingered hand slid into the hair behind his ear and gripped it hard, yanking him up into a deep kiss. Harry purred in the back of his throat in contentment as they laid skin to skin and a hand wandered down his back, letting the man assert his thoughts on who would be doing what. A snicker echoed through Harry's mind. With men like Tom, that would work every time.

Harry panted against Tom's neck, refusing to move even to alleviate his weight from the other man. If Tom wanted him moved, he'd move him. He was comfortable where he was, thank you very much.

Tom groaned beneath him, weakly pushing at Harry's shoulders. "Bloody hell, Potter."

"Only as young as you feel, Tom," Harry said with a grin. "And you're currently feeling, what, Dumbledore's age?"

A grunt. "Never mention Dumbledore while nude. Ever."

"Yes, I suppose it is a bit creepy, isn't it?" Harry lifted himself slowly, his back popping as he rolled to the side. "Well, good morning, Tom, what are your plans for the day?"

Tom stretched languidly and threw his feet off the side of the bed, affording Harry a nice view of the man's back as he reached for his discarded pants and began pulling them on. "The usual. I have too much paperwork to catch up on." He scowled darkly.

"I feel for you," Harry said with a grimace, staring at the ceiling in an effort not to get up. "It's really too bad you aren't coming to Narcissa's party tonight…"

"I'm not much for social events," Tom said. "Besides, I'm a tad conspicuous."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, you aren't looking so conspicuous like that." Harry raked his eyes down the man's exposed torso.

Tom turned with a smirk as he pulled a clean shirt on over his shoulders. "It's good to be appreciated."

Harry scowled at him and rose from the bed, smirking back at the Dark Lord as he paused in buttoning his shirt to stare hungrily. Harry lifted up his clothes with a grimace and spelled them clean before pulling them on. "I must concur."

"Cheeky little…" Tom broke off as he stuffed the ends of his shirt into his trousers and grabbed his robes. "Anyway, you backchatting little imp, though I am more apt to blend into society in this form, my eyes are rather… unique, and it would only take one person noticing for a riot to be raised. Not to mention my complete inability to listen to stupidity without using the Cruciatus… well, I imagine Lucius and Narcissa would not appreciate me outing them entirely by torturing their guests."

Harry couldn't help but snicker. "You have a point." He stalked closer to the man who was smoothing his clothing, grabbing him by the front of the robes and pulling him down to his level. Harry hated being short, and Tom was exceptionally tall. "Would have been nice to have someone to sneak away with, though… I hate these kinds of things."

Crimson eyes narrowed and without a pause Voldemort stood connected to the robes. "I have by no means alleged that this would be anything more than a singular event, Potter, and you would do well to remember that."

Harry barely managed not to wince when the barb hit home, the tightening of his lips the only indication he did not agree entirely. It was far from the worst thing Voldemort could say, he knew, but it didn't keep the comment from smarting. He had been surprised when Tom had merely grabbed him around the waist during their postcoital satisfaction and muttered a goodnight, but had been more than happy to oblige the man by staying. He had expected after the rather cruel remark Tom had made at the beginning to merely be thrown from the bed at the first opportunity. So Harry supposed he should be counting his blessings in this… yet he couldn't manage to totally ignore the disappointed pang.

He raised an eyebrow as a staring contest commenced between them, his hand still clenching a handful of the material covering Voldemort's chest. He found himself strangely unaffected by the menacing façade that had given him pause weeks ago. He doubted he would be able to find it attractive, but he felt none of the repulsion he had thought he would in the situation he found himself in.

The smirk that tilted his lips must have thrown the older man off, because his eyes widened minutely and he put up no resistance as Harry yanked him down into a brutal parody of a kiss. Harry's tongue flicked against where lips should have been, eyes connected with crimson. "And when have I ever listened to a word you said, Tom?" Harry murmured against the lipless mouth before releasing him and stepping back, raking his eyes up and down. "Why, of all the skills you seem to possess, did I get Parseltongue? It's an interesting skill and all, but I think being Metamorphmagi would have come much more in handy."

Voldemort glared heatedly but didn't press the previous subject, straightening and rolling his eyes. "Because I wasn't born with the ability. It was, in fact, one of the first rituals I underwent out of Hogwarts. I was too well known as the Head Boy and as the halfblood Riddle… I needed to distance myself from the notoriety I had in order to pursue my goals."

"There's a ritual for that?" Harry said with interest.

"It requires draining a Metamorphmagus entirely of blood on a dais and leaving their bloodless body to decompose in the elements. The maggots that feed on the corpse then must be ground into…"

"Ugh, sorry I asked, " Harry said with a moue of disgust. "Really, no need to go on."

Voldemort snickered and turned towards the door. "Unlike you, I have work to do. Either come and assist me or find some other way to make yourself useful."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Git."

Voldemort paused in the missive he was writing and let out an uncharacteristic sigh, running a long-fingered hand over his hairless head. Potter had gone running off with the excuse that the needed to get sustenance in before the Ball that night at the Malfoys'. He didn't doubt the young Vampire's sincerity, and in fact was rather glad to get some space.

Harry Potter. Bane of his existence for a decade, unexpected partner, and now suddenly his lover. How in the seven layers of hell had that happened? No matter how he tried, Voldemort seemed unable to reconcile the facts. He had slept with Harry Potter. Slept with… well, saying it over and over in his mind wasn't helping anything.

He hated how weak the boy made him. He hated how utterly entranced he was by the casual seductiveness Potter possessed, the easy way he had fallen asleep with the younger man in his bed. He hadn't slept in the company of another since he was barely out of his teens; when you had a life like he did, you could never be too careful. Yet he had easily fallen into slumber with the warm figure pressed against him, his mind not even beginning to think of him as a threat.

Why? Why did he let Potter get under his skin?

He hated how he had noticed the boy in the last months, he hated how often bright green eyes occupied his thoughts. He hated how the expression on Harry's face as he'd Apparated in and seen him had made his chest tighten. He hated that he was letting the boy matter to him.

This had to stop.

He pushed and Potter pulled, he ran and the brat had the audacity to follow. What would it take to sever this attachment without losing him the war?

Why did the mere thought feel like ice down his back?

Harry sunk his teeth into his victim with a mental sigh of relief, the blood managing to calm his serrated emotions. He had known better than to go so long without feeding, but he had allowed his own laziness to keep him within the extensive wards of Malfoy Manor. It was dangerous, toying with his vampirism as he did, and it was more than likely to bite him in the backside sooner or later.

He tossed the muggle aside, running his tongue over his lips and teeth to clear them of blood. He found taking muggles to be particularly degrading, but it was one of the things necessary when he was forced to hunt in a small town like Great Hangleton. He hadn't dared to hunt too close to their base of operations, and this was the next closest town.

With a flourishing wave of his wand, the corpse became a replica of a Styrofoam cup and blended in with the trash-littered alleyway. It was for the best, though crude, and Harry couldn't bring himself to give a damn about some muggle who had been too curious for their own good.

Fed and feeling much more in control of himself, Harry made to Apparate back to Riddle Manor when alarm bells went off in his head -- and not the figurative kind. He cursed and yanked back his sleeve to expose his snake band and tapped it quickly, leaving Tom a quick message of his whereabouts.

Harry glanced around to be sure he was alone before Disapparating, landing himself in the Forbidden Forest on the closest area to the school doors. He pulled out his invisibility cloak and enlarged it quickly, throwing it over his shoulders and darting towards the school. The wards were still sounding, but the secondary set he had placed to alert him of Legilimency being used had yet to go off. He didn't know what he could do -- he couldn't replace the clone, because getting to close to it would cause it to malfunction and he hadn't had time to Revert, regardless. He could only hope to find out why Dumbledore was near it and distract the old man.

And then the bells in his mind stopped chiming. The old man had left the Blood Clone's general vicinity. Harry sighed in relief as he entered the school, not bothering to keep to the walls. It was only a short walk later when he ran across his surest source for information, smirking as he shot out and grabbed the man. He made sure to pin down his wand arm and placed an invisible hand over the man's mouth, yanking him as close as possible to hiss in his ear, "It's me, Severus, stop struggling and go into that classroom."

The man scowled darkly but complied, black eyes narrowed and darting to both sides suspiciously. Only when they were both inside and silencing charms placed on the room did Harry pull off the cloak. He glared away the acerbic remark sure to come out of the man and started immediately. "I need to know why Dumbledore was near my clone."

Snape straightened and his scowl turned blank. "The Granger chit's family was killed last night."

"Hermione?" Harry asked quickly. "What about her, is she alright?"

"Traumatized and mourning, but nothing serious. She somehow managed to escape all injury."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "How is that? Who attacked them? I know for a fact that Tom didn't order anything of the sort. Could it have been someone acting on their own? And why would they kill her muggle parents and leave her alive, when she is the friend of the 'Boy-Who-Lived'?"

Severus rolled his eyes and bit out in a strange tone. "Not everything is about you, Potter. There is an investigation going on, but it seems muggle methods of torture were used. It is, at this point, being called a crime by a muggle killer."

Harry didn't believe that for a minute, but there was nothing else that made sense. However, if he found out a Death Eater had, in fact, worked on their own… Harry would have their head. He nodded to Severus. "Will there be any reason for Dumbledore to approach my clone again?"

"Not that I am aware of. I believe he was merely ascertaining that 'you' would not, in fact, make a Gryffindor idiot out of yourself and charge off seeking revenge. He will be busy with the Order over the next several days because of this."

"And Hermione?"

"Granger should be fine. She had some surface injuries and was unconscious when found, but nothing even remotely threatening."

"Right then. Would you tell Dante to keep an eye on her for me?"

Snape bowed his head. "As you wish, my lord."

Black eyes moved up to meet green, and Harry's lips tightened. "You're creeping me out with this whole listening to me thing. Is there any reason you've decided to suddenly be deferential? It is very unlike you."

Severus sneered and turned his head away, greasy hair hiding all but his prominent nose. His voice, however, was unlike Harry had ever heard it. Though clipped, it was soft. "Who am I to continuously work against the flow, Potter? You obviously have the ability to inspire loyalty and esteem in all those around you… there must be a reason for that. And so I will discontinue working actively to challenge you, if only to make it easier on myself."

Harry cracked a smile that Snape couldn't see, but could surely be heard in his voice. "So Slytherin, Severus. And here I was wondering over the years if you had been missorted. You seemed to have far too much of that Gryffindor brashness and courage."

The man rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him. "And I thank Salazar every day that you talked the hat out of putting you in Slytherin."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Dumbledore told you that, hmm? Well, I should be going… I should be helping Narcissa set up the last details for the Ball tonight. Keep an eye on things here, for me, would you?"

"As you wish, my lord."

"This will take some getting used to, I think."

"You? Think? I hope not, Potter, or we will all surely be doomed," he snarked, lifting his lip.

Harry gave a familiar smirk. "Much better. Ta-ta, Severus."

Severus stayed in that room for long minutes after the vampire had left, a blank look on his face and his hands clenched at his sides. He doubted he would ever like the boy, but in those last moments, he couldn't help the tightening in his chest.

Severus impatiently yanked a hand through his hair and set out of the room. Reminiscences were useless. He assured himself this was not giving in, but merely reinstating his vow to himself to keep watch over Lily's child. He found it much easier when the boy was in his older form… he looked much less like James at all. But still with those eyes…

As Severus left the room, he mused that it was strange that he had never really heard the boy laugh before that day.

Yet another thing he had gotten from his mother.

Elsewhere in the castle, Albus Dumbledore entered his office, hand clenched around his prize. It had been terribly easy to get what he had needed from young Harry, but then, what had he really expected? The boy was kept untrained for a reason, after all, and it had everything to do with keeping him under Albus's thumb. It wouldn't do for the boy to become too aware of the things around him, after all.

He would train the boy himself once he had graduated, once he could keep the boy dependent on him enough to allow growth. As of now, the boy had too much freedom and opinion in him, too many opportunities. Once Harry had completed Hogwarts, however, he would need Albus to help him, need him to show him the best way to go and what to do.

But recently, the boy had been rebellious. He no longer looked up to Albus with that same reverent air, no longer came to him with his thoughts. The boy was distancing himself, and Albus was worried about him. An uncontrollable weapon, after all, was useless.

He worried the boy would follow in Tom's shoes, using Dark Arts to improve himself before Albus could show him the correct path. Already the boy had managed to go from barely managing in his studies to effortlessly topping the class. Had be undergone one of the many Dark rituals that supposedly gave great intelligence and mental acumen? There seemed little other explanation for the sudden incline in his intelligence.

And now this strange situation with the Grangers. As the parents were only muggles, it wasn't a loss to the war and wouldn't normally be his concern, but it raised more questions. Hermione Granger was, after all, one of Harry's closest friends, and yet she had somehow managed to escape unharmed? Her wand had shown nothing but the most innocuous of spells, but at the same time the situation was terribly suspicious. She apparently had no memory of anyone entering the house. It could, of course, be explained by the girl being knocked out before the attack began, but it could also be a sign that the young Miss Granger was dabbling in the Dark Arts along with her friend.

Albus pulled out a vial from behind his desk and placed the hair he had procured from young Harry into it. It was a simple test, though perhaps more complicated than it needed to be. But it would tell him unequivocally whether his young charge was anything less then human. Dark Arts stripped away at the soul, and therefore also at humanity. Polyjuice was perhaps a rather complicated means of finding out, but it was certainly the most instant way he had on hand. Polyjuice, after all, was only for human transformation. Even the slightest shred of creature blood or Dark Arts use would cause the potion to fail quite spectacularly.

Albus downed the potion with a grimace and summoned a mirror to study his new appearance once the change had settled. Incontrovertibly human.

This was good, but it only meant there was quite possibly something more devious afoot. Albus would have to keep a close eye on young Harry.

The fate of the Wizarding world depended on it.

The Minister of Magic had disgustingly sweaty hands. Harry shuddered. He put on a polite face as the man greeted him and rambled on about one thing or another; as an honored guest of the Malfoys, he was automatically afforded some degree of respect, even if these people knew nothing about who he was. He had been introduced by the doorman as a relation to Lucius and had been set upon immediately by simpering fools, much to his chagrin. Mylläkkä was known now and thought of with fear, but his appearance was still unknown. And so, for the night he was Rhet Yaptorr, distant relative of the Malfoys from the Continent. He found it terribly amusing that he was using Voldemort's own trick, though his name didn't come with any fancy meanings like 'flight of death'.

He finally managed to escape the maddening Minister and made his way towards where Narcissa and Lucius stood greeting the partygoers, all polite masks and proud bearing. Harry was amused. He slid up to Narcissa during a lull in genuflecting guests and bowed low over her teasingly proffered hand, kissing the inside of her wrist with a roguish grin. "Ah, the most beautiful lady in the mortal realm. Might I have this dance?"

Lucius' eye twitched in an urge not to roll them and Harry gave him a smile as well. "Oh Pretty, don't be insulted… do you want a dance with me next?"

"I think I will survive without."

"Pity," Harry crooned, taking Narcissa's hand and pulling her onto the dance floor. "Ah, well, we'll have more fun without him anyway, won't we my lady?"

Narcissa's lips twitched into a smile. "Why would we want that boring man bothering us anyway?"

"Well, he can be rather entertaining…" They shared a sly look, and Harry was once again thankful for Narcissa's easy humor. "But alas! Were it not that you were the Hostess of this gala, I would whisk you away to the shadows and we could have some real fun…" he twirled her with a grin.

"You think you are such a charmer, Rhet, but it is good that I know you better than that. You'd much rather be whisking away my dear husband--"

"But he is my cousin!" he said with a laugh.

"--than I." She didn't even bother acknowledging his interruption. "Or perhaps you would rather be spiriting away whomever left those marks on your neck…"

Harry couldn't help the tinge of pink that crept up his neck. "Ah, erm, yes, there's always him."

Narcissa's voice was sly but very quiet as to be sure no one would overhear. "I was under the impression that you were working with my lord to catch him up on all he's missed since he was away."

Harry coughed and twirled her rapidly, looking away. "Yes, well…" Narcissa dropped the subject as the song came to an end and Harry bowed over her hand once more. "I thank you for the dance Lady Malfoy."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "You're not getting off that easily, you know."

"I know, I know…" Harry grinned and darted away into the crowd, making his way towards the magically maintained drink bar.

"Oh gods, you…"

Harry plopped down on a seat beside the groaning youngest Malfoy, shooting him a grin. "Yes, me. Get used to it Little Pretty."

"I swear Po--"

"Rhet!" Harry hissed with a dark look.

"Look, Rhet, I don't understand why you are so intent on ruining my mood all the time…"

"Do shut up, Malfoy," Harry cut in, glaring, his voice nearly inaudible even thought here was no one near to them. "I've been putting up with your impudence far more than I should. You are allowed to have your own opinions, and I can even put up with your mouth, but you will learn that there is a time and place for it. If you ever hope to be a Death Eater, you would be held under the Cruciatus for even looking at Voldemort wrong, and by proxy me when in his presence. Now, learn to curb your tongue, Draco."

The youngest Malfoy was pale but nodded, "I apologize. But this takes getting used to."

"I understand, and you have the rest of the holidays to get over it… but in public, use your damned intelligence and don't you dare insult me."

Another nod. "Yes, my lord."

"Very good."

The conversation turned over to the next term and things to expect from an innocuous standpoint, sure that to any listening ears it was merely Draco complaining about his schoolmates. Harry took it in stride and answered the questions as well as he could in the company they were in, his eyes constantly moving over the crowds.

His eyes happened to fall upon the ballroom doors as they opened, and his breathing hitched as a grin spread over his lips. "Good Merlin…"

Draco cut off in the middle of a tirade about 'the Weasel' and looked to where Harry was looking, a confused furrow of his brow making itself known. "Who is that?"

The doorman's posture straightened as the figure gave their name, a look of fear clouding his face even as he bowed and his magically-enhanced voice rang out, "Introducing the Marquis Valerian!"

Harry's grin didn't fade even as Draco gasped out a disbelieving 'Bloody hell' from his side. Vampires were feared automatically by society, but the title of the Vampire Marquis had held respect even to wizards. It was a respect borne more of fear than any real admiration, but effective nonetheless. No matter the speciesism of the Wizarding world, even the Minister wouldn't dare stand against the Vampire Marquis. They wouldn't be allowing him any political input, of course, but interealm relations were kept up through stiff respect and nicities.

Harry ignored Malfoy entirely and stood, making his way towards the regal figure with a smile he couldn't hope to smother. Most of the room was too terrified to approach him so Harry was able to cut through them easily as they went back to what they were doing, casting fearful and intrigued glances towards the imposing Vampire Lord. The man looked as he always had, long inky hair unbound and a dry smile curving his lips just enough for a fang to peek through. It amused Valerian terribly to intimidate 'the silly mortal hoi polloi'.

Harry stopped directly in front of the man, who looked him over with an amused glint. "You've grown up well, pet."

Harry was mildly disappointed that this was not his own Valerian, but was still inordinately pleased to see the man. He had, after all, been a constant in his life for a decade; the last months had been bizarre without his flamboyant presence. "And you haven't changed at all, Val." Harry smirked and wished he could simply latch onto the man, but knew that their present surroundings deemed it inappropriate.

Valerian raised one elbow and bowed slightly. "Shall we go somewhere more appropriate to speak, pet?"

"I think that first I should introduce you to the hosts of the ball you felt the need to crash, but after that I am sure we can go somewhere to speak." He took the man's arm and pulled him towards an interestedly watching Lucius and Narcissa, Lucius's posture even straighter than usual. Harry bit his tongue not to snicker at Lucius' power lust, throwing a genuine smile to Valerian. "I didn't think I'd see you at all until this mess was over with… and now I am wondering how often your 'important business' was you checking up me."

Valerian laughed as the crowd parted before them. "I can't say for sure, but time will tell, will it not?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Vague prat."

"Goodness, pet, do I always allow you to talk to me in such a way? Such crass for a childe…"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle as he threw the older Vampire a wink. "Don't worry, you never cease complaining."

They reached the couple and Harry bowed with a flourish. "Pretty, Narcissa, may I present to you Valerian."

Golden eyes rolled skyward. "I really must remember to try harder to instill elegance in you…"

Lucius tipped his head gracefully. "It is an honor to meet you, sir Marquis. We welcome you to our home."

"Please, call me Valerian," he purred, giving both blonds a smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you both. I am glad to see someone taking care of dear Mylläkkä…"

"I don't need to be taken care of," Harry said with a scowl.

"Shush, pet, we adults are talking…"

Harry growled as Lucius let out a surprised laugh, quickly stifling it as Harry glared at him before turning it on Valerian. "I wish you wouldn't call me that…"

Lucius looked amused though he was attempting to mask it. "I certainly see where you picked up your attitude from…"

"Shush, Pretty…" Harry broke off as he realized just how like Valerian he really was and groaned. "I've become my own worst nightmare. That's enough. I'm taking Valerian up to my room now, we have catching up to do. Drinks once the guests have gone home?"

Narcissa halted whatever comeback Lucius might have had with a hand on his arm. "Of course, dear. We'll see you in a bit."

Harry grinned at her and began tugging on the golden eyed man's arm. "Come on, Val, before you manage to embarrass me more…"

Valerian let out a loud chuckle as he was forcibly dragged from the room, leaving half the hall staring after them.

Revised: 3/20/09