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

Note: The Hallows are left out of this story, as I don't feel like integrating them. XD It is just like with Hocruxes… they just never existed, and anything that might have been entwined with them has a new explanation. No biggie in the storyline, though.

//This is Parseltongue.//

Paraselenic

Crepuscular // like twilight; relating to or resembling the fading light of dusk

Harry vaulted over a railing, using his preternatural abilities to speed him along as he made his way for Gryffindor tower. He minded his other senses to be sure he wasn't seen performing inhuman stunts, but did not slow otherwise. He finally had the last piece of the puzzle, the missing slice of information that he had been toiling over for months now.

In researching Dumbledore, he had found many unexplainable things, from his father's incarceration, to the sudden death of his mother, to the mysterious death of his squib sister. But throughout his investigation, the one thing that stood out most was his convoluted friendship with Gellert Grindelwald. How could a man who had come to stand for tolerance and uniting the muggle and magical worlds have once plotted for Wizarding supremacy? It made no sense, and confusion brought on by that had plagued Harry. It seemed too contradictory, too shallow for the eighteen year old Albus Dumbledore to have fallen in so fully with someone like Grindelwald.

But then revelation had smacked him full force across the face as he had played with Dumbledore in his office, trying to keep the man off balance and perhaps focusing on Harry's sexuality over his demeanor. Albus Dumbledore was gay. Now, really, this wasn't much of a revelation, as sexual preference had very little to do with much of anything (and really, what straight man would wear those colours, anyway? Only the most flamboyant would dare), but it made that final piece in the puzzle that had plagued him so.

Because Dumbledore had been in love with Grindelwald.

It made perfect sense. Why would an exceptional Light-sided boy suddenly make plans for world domination? Why would a previously perfect example of an upstanding Head Boy suddenly go down so dark a path? Love made people do stupid things, things they never would have otherwise. And so the pieces fell into place, and Harry was thrilled. Homosexuality in and of itself was nothing to look twice at, but to be able to tell the world that their precious Albus Dumbledore had been involved with the former Dark Lord? Oh, but irony could be sweet.

The biggest question still remaining was just how long that relationship had gone on, but the truth didn't particularly matter. Make it seem as if the two had been involved for years into Grindelwald's reign and suspicion would be heaped onto Dumbledore. Add all the other inconsistencies and dubious events, and the world would be in an uproar.

Perfect.

Gryffindor's common room was in sight, and Harry slowed to a tense walk as he approached the Fat Lady.

"King of the castle."

"Oh hello there, dear," the portrait simpered, batting her eyes. "You look a bit overwrought, is everything alright?"

Harry ignored her, yanking on the portrait impatiently to speed its opening. He registered her squawking indignantly, but pushed through the portrait hole nonetheless, making his way for the stairs to the boy's dorm.

"Harry?" Hermione was suddenly at his side, and he was momentarily distracted by the intelligent gleam that had returned to her eyes. It seemed Tom's calculation had been correct, thankfully. "Is something wrong?"

Harry shook his head and motioned for her to follow him. "No, nothing wrong. But I've had an epiphany."

"Oh?" Warm brown eyes lit considerably at the possibility of knowledge. "Well, what's keeping you? Come on, then…"

Harry chuckled as she passed him and began tugging him by the arm up the stairs, all determination and fluffy curls. It was nice having her back. Things hadn't been the same without her. Perhaps now she could pull Ron out of his rut, as Harry was not qualified for emotional support. He was too cynical for that.

Opening the door to the dorm, Harry blinked in surprise to see Luna Lovegood meandering around, staring at inanimate objects with a cocked head before nodding and walking on. Neville sat on his bed, watching her with the air of someone who had watched this scene too many times to be affected. Ron was also present, though sleeping fitfully still on top of the bedclothes.

Harry locked the door when he entered, going to his trunk and rifling through it to find his scroll. He wanted this noted immediately, in case Tom decided to act prematurely.

"Harry?" Neville's voice was toned down, likely to be sure he didn't wake Ron. That was silly of him; after over five years in the same dorm, he should know that so long as Ron was snoring he wouldn't wake up even if a blasting curse went off next to his head. Harry appreciated the prudence, though, and took the precaution to point his wand towards the sleeping redhead and cast a mild sleeping hex that required removal by the caster to be broken.

"Ah!" Harry yanked out the scroll and unwound it, then swished his wand to set it steady in midair. With a twitch of his fingers a quill floated out of his trunk followed closely by a pot of ink, which joined the paper in hovering securely.

He glimpsed a lot of small notations (including several longwinded ones which were surely made by Hermione) in the margins and a few lines in various hands at the foot of the scroll, and was inordinately pleased that his newly found comrades had been doing as he asked. A pleased grin widened on his face as he set to jotting out his thoughts on the situation, tying in his findings in with previously held suspicions and questions. He could feel Hermione peering over his shoulder, making soft exclamations every so often as he wrote.

With a flourish, he finished off the paragraphs of conclusions, and watched with a grin as Hermione flopped back onto his bed with a shrewd expression. His smile turned to Neville, who was watching with interest, and Luna who acted for all the world as if she was alone in the room, humming under her breath and still examining everything.

"Well, now that that's done; what's Luna doing in here, Neville? I thought you two weren't dating…" his smile was sly, and he laughed when Neville blushed brightly.

"Guh… I… Harry… I told you it wasn't like that!"

"I'm just taking the piss out of you, don't get upset."

Neville, still rather red, huffed but didn't answer but to nod. Harry laughed quietly to himself, finding Neville's awkward timidity amusing. He would really have to work him through that.

He turned to Luna, cocking his head. "Hi there, Luna. You alright?"

"Hmm?" The girl turned light eyes on him and a smile crept onto her lips. "Oh, hullo Harry-who-isn't-quite-Harry. I'm fine of course; there is talk of a Blibbering Humdinger in the forest, so I'm looking forward to checking out those claims…"

Harry made an effort to hold back a laugh. "Just be sure to be careful, hm?"

"Oh, of course, Harry."

Harry decided that how Luna knew wasn't something that really needed questioning, and he merely smiled serenely at the small group of teens. It was nostalgic to sit here with this group, with Ron's snores punctuating the conversation in the background. And to think that these three teens actually knew the truth and stood beside him regardless. It touched him in a way few things did anymore, and Harry watched as Hermione grumbled under her breath and Luna went back to studying things vacantly, canting her head side to side as if holding silent conversation. And perhaps she was; you could never tell with Luna.

"What about Remus, Harry?"

Harry paused in his skimming of the scroll, fingers twitching. "What about him, Hermione?"

"Did Dumbledore tell you he was missing?"

No. He hadn't. The idea angered Harry, that the man could willfully hold back information that would have been important to him had circumstances been different. What was the old man playing at? "No, he didn't say a thing about the raid last night but to ask if I had witnessed it in a vision."

The room was silent but for Luna's rather tone-deaf humming, conclusions obvious to them all.

"Harry…" Luna's voice was even more distant than usual, and she didn't turn to look at him. "You need to settle things with Blaise Zabini soon, or it might turn out badly. And there will be an owl for you in the morning with bad news."

All eyes in the room focused on Luna, and Harry raised a speculative eyebrow. There was no feeling in the air like prophecy, and Luna's eyes were no more unfocused than usual. So how had she known there was any problem with Zabini? And how could she know of a letter that would be sent? Harry reminded himself of his previous decision not to ask, but curiosity welled up nonetheless.

"That is preposterous." Ah, Hermione to the rescue. "Don't tell me you've fallen in with that Divination nonsense, Luna."

"Oh no, of course not. The Wrackspurts told me."

Harry stifled a groan, but at the same time found his curiosity peaking. Wasn't this what Neville had given as how Luna had known about his change in allegiance?

"Oh Merlin help us," Hermione's disgruntled voice mumbled from just behind him. She spoke louder when she continued, sitting up and giving Luna an exasperated look. "There is no such thing as a Wrackspurt!"

"The Wrackspurts say that for a muggleborn in a magical world, you are remarkably skeptical of things you don't understand."

Hermione turned red, and Harry snuck a furtive glance at Neville. The boy seemed to agree with him by shrinking in on himself, scooting back out of the figurative line of fire. Hermione stood now, planting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes. "I am skeptical of a girl who has her head in the clouds and believes in all manner of creature that even the magical world knows don't exist!"

"Are you always so quick to dismiss that which you don't understand?" Luna's smile was widening, and Harry was struck by how much the girl was enjoying the situation. But then, Luna didn't generally feel comfortable enough with people to actually talk back to them.

Harry would later be rather angry with himself for neglecting his surveillance, but he had been so engrossed in the spectacle of Luna baiting Hermione that he had no time to react. Hermione yanked out her wand with an agility he wouldn't have expected from the girl and let a curse fly. "Scorpiortus!" She hardly paused as the scorpion burst from her wand, "Oppugno!"

Instantly the rather large scorpion set itself toward Luna, tail swaying ominously. Harry cast a glance at Luna who hadn't lost her blithe smile, and Neville who was already moving towards her. In a different situation, Harry might have laughed at the protective air Neville was holding despite his fear, totally eradicating any doubts Harry might have had about the nature of the younger boy's feelings. But as it was, Harry gritted his teeth in irritation at himself and grabbed a fierce hold of the string of Hermione's consciousness, attempting to coax it into calmness.

"Silly bint, challenging your betters. Will you still look at me so vacuously when poison courses through your veins? Will you beg me then? It would be nice to hear you come down to earth, screaming for mercy."

Harry yanked on his hold of the potion harshly, even as he cast an Evanesco at the scorpion. Hermione's rage shrieked in his mind, but he held it firmly. Briefly the thought crossed his mind that to let this loose in a battle would be a fantastic weapon, but for now, Hermione seemed unable to tell friend from foe. The calm came slowly, and the brunette collapsed on the plush red carpeting of the dorm floor.

"Well, that was fun," Luna said with a laugh. "We should do that more often."

Harry only glared.

Harry loped toward the Slytherin table without meeting anyone's eyes, hoping that by avoiding the many gazes turning to focus on him he might appear less annoyed and confident than he was. Harry Potter, after all, should look disconcerted to approach the snake's nest.

Draco's slivery eyes met his before he had even made it halfway, his uncaring nod of acknowledgment belied by the curiosity that seemed to ooze out of him. Harry supposed he had a right to be, really; he hadn't notified him of any new segment to their play, and he was sure Draco knew it much be something important to bring him strolling across house borders. Half the Hall was watching him in various states of blatancy, from the Gryffindors who stared with ill-concealed irritation, to the less informed Slytherins who had blank masks in place, but obvious disgust lying not far beneath.

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws watched on with their own curiosity, but Harry often thought the two houses were the better of the bunch. They were not polarized as the snakes and lions always seemed to be, able to see all sides from their outer vantage point. Often ignored and underestimated, the badgers and eagles were able to stay under the radar. Harry had often wished to be a part of either house when he was actually attending school, if only to be able to pass notice. But then… he would have still been Harry Potter, wouldn't he have?

Shaking out of the strange rambling path his thoughts had gone down, Harry gave something that crossed between a smile and a smirk as he reached him. "Hey Draco." Harry leaned towards him, a hand holding his weight on the table's edge. It was casual enough to hopefully forestall any rumors, but he knew Dumbledore was reading into every move he made. "What's going on?"

Draco shot him a puzzled look but played along. "Just fine, Potter. What brings the Lion's King into our humble table?"

"I wouldn't say I was the king of anything," Harry said with a dry look, leaning in closer. "But anyway, I just wanted to see if you wanted to meet me in the Room later? And maybe bring your friends?"

No one damning was listening, though quite a few seventh years who were close enough to overhear looked calculating. Draco scanned his eyes over Harry's face before nodding. "All our friends?"

Harry hummed in his throat, widening his smile and continuing softly enough to not be heard away from the small group around them. "I found something interesting I want to share. Something… uhh… my significant other… needs to know, but I want it checked over once more."

Draco turned a bit green but nodded nonetheless. "Right. At eight?"

"Sure."

Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor table with confident strides, still quite assured with himself. Things were going his way, finally, and the end was coming into sight.

Arriving back at the table, he met the furious blue eyes of Ron, sighing internally. He had forgotten that the boy hadn't been present for the truce between him and Malfoy, and the angry expression clearly showed his disapproval.

"In with the slimy gits now, Harry?"

"Ron…"

"No, he's right, Harry." Ginny. Damn. He had been avoiding the girl for weeks. Her voice was slowly rising in pitch, and Harry was tempted to smack a hand over her mouth to keep her from drawing any more attention that she was already garnering. "Slytherins? What in the hell happened while we were gone? Our father was killed by Death Eaters, and while we're away mourning, you suddenly make friends with that bastard Malfoy? What is going through your mind?!"

Harry cast the girl a dark look before turning back to Ron. "Ron, we aren't children anymore. Malfoy proposed a truce and I took it."

Harry knew things were bad when the redhead stood slowly, not lashing out or yelling, the angry red of his face that clashed so badly with his hair the only indication that anything was wrong. Blue eyes stared unflinchingly into green; Harry was horrified to see the telltale signs of tears filming over his friend's eyes. Ron spoke in a slow, controlled voice after a few long moments, filled not with anger but with genuine pain. "Of course, Harry."

And Harry tried his damndest to feel no regret as the redhead walked away, Ginny scowling and jumping up to follow him. He had too many things on his mind to be able to deal with this right now. But the grief in the blue eyes of his former best friend would surely haunt him from the background, no matter how sturdy his resolve.

"Potter, don't ever refer to the Dark Lord as your significant other again. That was disturbing."

Harry chuckled as Draco entered with the other Slytherins at his back, having hardly waited for the door to close before speaking. "What would you prefer, Little Pretty? Lover? I thought that might perturb you more." Harry forcibly dismissed his tension over Ron's reaction; perhaps things were better this way. Wasn't it better for the let down to start now, rather than feeling worse when the truth about Harry came into the light?

Hermione snorted as she got up to join Lisa, her normal personality back in full force as she jutted her nose into the air. Obviously they were 'being children' again. Hermione never approved.

Draco made gagging noises and a few of the other Slytherins looked far too interested for their own good, but Harry couldn't care less at this point. Even with Ron's predictable reaction, Harry's mood was wonderful.

"Good Merlin, Potter, are you trying to make me regurgitate my dinner?"

"You should be happy that I prefer Voldemort to your father… or your mother for that matter… or your mother and your father… hmm, you have such a pretty family…"

Draco seemed to ignore the comments on his parents, though Harry saw the color that suffused his cheeks and the way his fingers twitched at his sides. Robbed of his fun, Harry sat back in his chair and kicked up his feet, eyeing the Slytherins sardonically. "Don't you plan to take seats?"

"Well, Potter." It was Pansy who spoke up, inclining her head in a show of respect. "What have you got for us already?"

Harry glanced around the room; Padma was not present though Parvati was, strangely. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Padma at all since the meeting a few weeks prior. What had Parvati said? She wasn't looking forward to the twenty-third? What could that have meant? It was the fifteenth now, so he still had a few days to find out. Harry dismissed his thoughts for now, focusing on the rest of the group. The young Selwyn was absent as well, but from Luna he knew that the fifth year Ravenclaws had Astronomy tonight. He had excused Neville from the proceedings, as his confidence without Luna or Harry right beside him was still dismal.

As for those who actually were present, Blaise Zabini stood near the door still, not glaring as usual but instead staring vacantly to some space near Harry, obviously lost in thought. Lisa Turpin sat next to Hermione on the couch, speaking in low tones over the scroll of information on Dumbledore, Zacharias Smith sitting a bit away listening with a skeptical expression. Draco was leading a still attentive Pansy to the couch, while Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Tracey Davis, Millicent Bulstrode, and a few fifth years he was unacquainted with moved cautiously towards the various divans arranged in a semicircle. The lack of reduction in their number wasn't all that surprising, though Harry had never been a hundred percent sure they would be able to get over his identity.

"I need a few of you to work on putting the scroll information into something coherent. Skeeter will do the writing and embellishing, but I need intelligent people to order it all and make it concise. Wouldn't want her to miss anything important, hmm?" Harry smirked, "Hermione will be in charge of that, and I'd like Lisa and Draco on it as well. Who else?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Sticking me with the women, Potter?"

"Oh, my mistake Little Pretty, but I thought you were one. With all your primping, I thought for sure you were suited…"

Laughter was the immediate response, even the Slytherins noticeably holding back a response. Draco scowled, but he just stuck his nose into the air and let out a loud harrumph. "Says the one who spends half his time playing the girl."

Harry himself laughed this time, lips curving. "You ought to try it sometime, you know, before talking down on it."

"No thank you, I like girls and that is unlikely to change."

"Well, that kills the betting pool, doesn't it?" Zacharias Smith cut in suddenly, a drooping look on his face. "Damn. I was down for five galleons."

"I'm down for ten, but I refuse to believe myself lost yet." Harry smirked, eyeing Draco. "No one that looks like him could possibly be straight."

Draco's look was positively indignant, but Pansy beat him to answering. "You know, I've wondered the same quite a few times. Who should I see to get put down for a few galleons myself?"

"Pansy!"

"What? It's true…"

Harry grinned at the girl, glad she was loosening up in his presence. In fact, the whole room's atmosphere was different this time. The majority of the Slytherins still looked out of place and uncomfortable, but they were no longer angry or defensive. The only dark looks were from the pride-wounded Draco and the still silent Zabini, his eyes watching Harry's every move.

"Don't you remember Yule Ball, Draco? I mean, any other fourteen year old boy would have had no trouble…"

"Ever consider it was just you, dear Pansy?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "Ever consider that I know far worse things about you, Drakie-poo?"

"Alright, you two, enough. Amusing as this is, I need this scroll done tonight," Harry interceded.

Draco huffed and looked away. "Fine. I'd like Pansy and Theodore on this with me."

Harry waved a hand and let the three of them move to join the already busy Lisa and Hermione. "For the rest of you, I need you to listen up. In order for this war to be won, Dumbledore cannot die a martyr's death. We need doubts to spawn before he goes down, we need the entire Wizarding world to question his motives."

One of the Slytherin girls, Tracey Davis, gazed at him blankly. "How is hurting Dumbledore helping? Why not just kill him and get it over with? You have the power to do so, obviously, if the Dark Lord would count you high enough to be by his side. And unlike the Dark Lord, you have the access to the man. I don't understand why you've been here for four months and have done nothing."

Harry inclined his head. "I have been doing far from nothing. As I said, Dumbledore must not be seen as a victim, as someone who fell for the Light. The black stain upon him must be sufficient to keep the Light from gathering even more followers who are outraged at his demise. My allegiances will probably help with that, but this is the most important step to winning this war."

"Taking over the ministry is the most important step to winning the war." One of the fifth years Harry didn't know had spoken, but the tone was soft and nearly questioning rather than rude, so Harry didn't bother reprimanding.

"Yes, that is very important. But who does the Light look to?"

"You."

Harry blinked at Goyle (or was that Crabbe?) before chuckling. "Well, I suppose so, yes. But I am no longer an obstacle, as I am very firmly with the Dark in this. No, I meant who they look to and is our opposition."

The large boy frowned and looked down, obviously disappointed to have answered wrong. Harry snorted mentally. Inbreeding did sad things, but he didn't think they were a lost cause. He flicked his eyes over the others, and saw that they all understood easily. He stretched back in his chair and nodded firmly. "Even if we took over the ministry, if Dumbledore was alive he could rally the Light's forces and be a threat. He is a powerful man and an even more powerful wizard. There are few others who could challenge us if he was gone. In his place, Professor McGonagall will take over. Now, Professor McGonagall is a strong woman, but she just doesn't have the influence Dumbledore does. It would take her years to get to that point. So, we take Dumbledore from them and the hardest part is over."

A scoff came from behind him, and Harry shot his eyes towards the door. Zabini straightened from the wall with a sardonic look. "Are you really such an idealist, Potter? You think the war will be won so easily? What a fool you are."

All sound in the room had frozen, and Harry was aware everyone was watching them. He fought the urge to tear out the boy's throat, knowing he could do very little to him while undercover. A student couldn't just come up missing, after all.

Harry forcibly calmed himself and raised an eyebrow. "You're brave, Zabini."

"Hardly. I'm just the only one willing to tell the truth. Do you think that being a vampire makes you all-powerful, Potter? Or is it that you think fucking the Dark Lord makes you influential? Having a group of teenagers to follow your beck and call? You're nothing but a murderous twat playing at being Dark Lord, so far as I'm concerned."

Harry heard a few gasps and raised himself from his seat fluidly, stalking towards the black boy. "Would you like to sample how murderous I can be? Because you are very close to tasting it first-hand."

"What will you do? Cruciate me? Dumbledore would know in moments that you had used a dark curse in the school."

Harry seethed, knowing the boy was right; every spell that sprung to his mind would set off the wards. He began unbuttoning his robes, not stopping in his slow approach. Soon enough he was able to reach his dagger, secured to his thigh as it had been for the last four years without fail. He never got dressed without adding it. He pulled it free and spun it threateningly, seeing a flicker of fear in Zabini's eyes. "Ah, but who said anything about a spell?"

He heard a few choked protests as he darted forward, pinning Zabini to the wall by his neck. The hand with the dagger pressed into the teen's clothed clavicle, face inches away. "I allow a lot of leeway within these walls; I allow those present to address me as they wish, to interrupt me, to question my decisions. Do you think the Dark Lord would let you do that? No. Voldemort would torture you until you bled from your ears if you dared to even speak out of turn. I believe I have been terribly lenient with you all."

Harry's eyes flicked back to the frozen group, fangs bared. "But if you think I will allow a transgression of this proportion, you are sadly mistaken. Power does not hold that high of a stake to me, and I couldn't honestly care less how you see me. All that I care about is that you follow my commands, and that you show some modicum of respect to me. We all have the same goal, and I intend to use you all to help me meet it. Beyond that, you can deal with Voldemort."

Harry pressed the blade hard into the boy, the faint tang of blood in the air telling him he had met skin. His eyes once again met the dark ones of Zabini. "But so long as you are in this room, you will show me respect. When you become a Death Eater and stand before Voldemort and me, you will bow in deference. The Dark Lord will not allow you to pick and choose when to be respectful. I haven't a clue what you've got against me, but make no mistake that you will not live long if you don't learn to hold your tongue."

Harry loosened his hold and was abruptly pushed away, black eyes staring into him. "I'll never impugn my honor by allying with you, Potter. If that means I will not be a Death Eater, so be it. Consider me your enemy."

Blaise spun on his heel and marched towards the door, leaving Harry fuming in place. The door slammed shut after the black boy without any movement in the room. Harry snarled silently, staring at the closed door. How dare that impertinent brat? He hadn't realized how used to being in power he had become until the boy had stood against him so brazenly. Zabini was like a damned Gryffindor in his brave foolishness, and something in Harry tipped its hat to him. The rest of Harry, however, continued raging.

"Harry?"

The voice reached him barely, and he cut his eyes from the door to peer back at the frozen students, who were all standing for one reason or another, unaware of the intimidating picture he made. Hermione stood in the front of the group, trembling but assured in all her Gryffindor glory. "Harry, you need to calm down. You're disrupting the room."

And he was. The room seemed to flicker between the cool, comfortable setting they had created and a blank abyss; Harry assumed that to be the natural state of the room, though it could just as easily be a product of his anger. He breathed deeply in an attempt to control his wayward magic, concentrating on pulling it within him.

His eyes never left the group of students, whom he now understood to be standing because the furniture was not staying corporeal. His voice was dark when he spoke, a growl overlaying his tones. "I want to know what that little shit's problem is, and I want to know now. I understand some of you are his friends, and I don't particularly want to kill him. But if I find no good reason for that pillock's attitude, I will slaughter him the moment I am free of the pretensions of being Harry Potter."

Draco turned away from him, looking over his housemates. Harry was glad he was taking a role in this, because his temper was stretched thin. He needed to accost Dante and force a long training session out of him to calm his nerves, or else run to Riddle Manor and have a few hours of angry sex with the Dark Lord.

The latter option sounded the most appealing, but there was work to be done.

"He hasn't told anyone his problems with you, milord," Draco said softly, and Harry wanted to laugh at how the blond sounded like he was soothing a wild animal. "He has never been exceptionally close to any of us, as he plans to take the path of his great grandfather and actually become a necromancer someday. The only person I could see him confiding in would be his mother, but Zinnia Zabini wouldn't speak to you if her son won't. Mother has tea with her on Thursday afternoons, but I hardly think they would discuss anything as serious…"

"I'll just go and see your mother then. Thank you, Little Pretty."

Draco's features tensed. "Do you think that is wise…?"

Harry lifted his lip in something meant to be a smile, but came off as a feral smirk. "I would not harm your family, Draco. I've become quite fond of them after Christmas."

He expected one of Draco's usual quips about his being too fond of them, but the boy only nodded hesitantly. "Alright."

Harry glanced over the group one more time and met Hermione's eyes. "Please finish up the information on Dumbledore. I want to have it to Voldemort as soon as possible. Dumbledore was questioning me too much for comfort. This information needs to get out to distract him as soon as possible."

Hermione nodded, chin up. "Of course, Harry. You can count on me."

And Harry left.

"I need to see your mistress."

The house elf quivered in place, shaking its head and causing its overlarge ears to flop about. "Makie is being sorry, sir, but Makie's lady is not being taking callers at this time of the night…"

Harry resisted the urge to snarl at the elf, knowing it would only serve to make it blubber and take even longer to get his way. "I need to see Narcissa right now. It is quite important, and I assure you she will wish to see me. Don't you remember me from a few weeks ago? I helped your mistress plan for the holiday ball."

The elf fidgeted and wrung its hands. "Regardless, sir, Makie cannot be fetching her mistress this late. Makie would surely be given clothing for it…"

"Narcissa!" he boomed, deciding to ignore the elf altogether. It squeaked and began to cry, but he ignored it. He knew better than to push past the thing, but he cast a Sonorus on his throat and called again. "Narcissa!"

He waited for what felt like ages, but with the expansive size of the manor he knew it was likely jus the trek necessary to get to the front door. When Narcissa finally glided around the corner, he was rather surprised to see her in a long white dressing gown, but her blank irritation faded to a small smile when she set eyes on him. "Harry? What foolishness is this?"

Harry quickly cast a Quietus and smiled. "I'm sorry, my dear, but your House elf was obeying your orders and wouldn't go to get you."

Narcissa glared at the sobbing creature, before waving her had. "Well, come in, already! You'll catch your death standing in the doorway all night."

Harry slid past the jabbering mass of elf and bowed over Narcissa's hand, kissing her wrist. "I do apologize for my unexpected visit, but my situation demanded I come immediately. I hope you don't mind?"

"For you? I suppose I won't bother cursing you. If it was anyone else who interrupted my nightly routine, however…"

Harry took her proffered arm, letting her lead him to one of the parlors. He had stopped in a nearby town to feed and then taken a run across the Malfoy grounds, so his mood was much more stable than it had been an hour ago. He still felt the tension beneath the surface, though, a thin veneer of his usual overdone charm holding it back. Zabini was a complication he didn't need this late in the game.

"So, what brings you barging in here as I was about to take my bath, Harry? I assume it is of some importance?"

A sly grin crept over his lips. "Oh, don't let me stop you, Narcissa. Really…"

"Do shut up."

"Fine, fine. You are correct." He sank down into a soft chair, eyeing Narcissa as she took a seat across from him. "I've had a problem at Hogwarts, and Draco mentioned that you might be able to help me."

"Hmm…" she snapped her fingers primly and ordered tea from the house elf that appeared before turning back to him. "And what would that be?"

"You are friends with Zinnia Zabini?"

The question seemed to startle Narcissa, as she tilted her head at him. "Well, I suppose you could say that. We have tea together once a week, but I hardly trust her, and it is mutual. Friendship isn't the same for Slytherins as it is for you Gryffindors."

"How do you figure?"

"You are so trusting, Harry. And for those we become close to, Slytherins can be much the same. But in high society, one cannot afford to trust others on a whim. Families are always looking for gossip against others, something to make them look better than the others. Influential wives meet often, but it is usually more like a veiled session of oneupsmanship than actual friendship. Who has the most money, who has the better home and the most obedient elves... these are the things that comprise the 'friendships' we most often have."

"That's... sad."

She laughed and lifted the teapot, pouring them each a cup. "I suppose it is, but it is what we have all grown up with. Purebloods have worked this way for centuries, and it isn't likely to stop. So no, Zinnia is not my friend, but I know her well enough."

Harry tapped his fingers on his thigh. "Well, you speak to her at least. I need to find out why, exactly, her son seems to be begging for me to kill him."

The tea very nearly sloshed out of the cup Narcissa was handing him, but years of training as the perfect Lady let her balance it. "Is that so?"

"Yes. He defied me rather spectacularly, insulting me all the while. If Tom got wind of it, the boy and his mother would already be dead."

Narcissa grimaced visibly and sipped her tea, blue eyes trained blankly on the cup. "Well… as I said, we certainly don't trust one another. I doubt I can get the information you need."

"I could speak to her myself, if you think it wise," he said shortly, feeling his irritation rising as he thought of the situation again. "Would she be candid to save her son, do you think?"

"Perhaps."

"Would you firecall her, then?"

Narcissa sipped her tea again, looking at him over the rim of the cup. "You are quite lucky that I like you a substantially more than her, you know. I might take offense, otherwise, to being used."

"I could never use you, Narcissa," he said honestly, sighing. "I am just very stressed out right now. Dumbledore has been questioning me, and being stuck with the company of a bunch of teens wears on my patience."

"Hmm…" Narcissa took out her wand and flicked her wrist, and Harry smiled to see she had summoned a decanter of pumpkin wine, emptying her teacup of her hardly sipped tea and filling it with the alcohol. "I require a boon for doing this."

Harry eyed her warily and inclined his head. "And that would be?"

She took a long swallow of her drink and grinned. "I want to know exactly what's going on with you and the Dark Lord."

Harry cringed, having expected this. He had put her off repeatedly over the Yule hols, escaping her sly questions. But he needed this meeting with the Missus Zabini, so he sighed and nodded. "You realize if Tom gets wind of this, he'll kill us both just for talking about him, hmm?"

"Well, we just won't tell him then! Now get talking, Potter, because I know I've missed a lot."

"Fine…" Harry sat back in his chair and did a spell to turn his tea to firewhiskey. He needed the alcohol for this. "We have a strange friendship. We argue every other day, we cast Dark spells at one another when we get annoyed, we draw blood and fight like children for no apparent reason. But since September, we also talk more than I've ever talked with another person in my life. We've had conversations that lasted hours over the stupidest things, and I've never felt more challenged by any other human. He tests the limits of my control, my temper, my intelligence."

Narcissa was smiling, and Harry avoided her eyes. "Go on. I want the good stuff."

Another sigh. "I don't know how it happened, Merlin knows I didn't want it, but…"

"But…?" she was sitting forward now, eyes gleaming. The alcohol was already effecting her, giving her the mischievous demeanor he knew her best for.

"I fell in love with him."

She leaned back with a satisfied sigh, taking another drink.

Harry's guts were twisted painfully; he hadn't said it out loud before, and it felt strange to do so. More real somehow. He looked down into his drink and tipped his head. "Even before he regained his rather more aesthetic appearance, I fell in love with the man he was. No matter than he killed my parents or made my life hell, I was enamored with his mind and the intelligence and passion he possessed. He's fucking nutters, but he's brilliant. There is just something about him that has drawn me from the beginning… and then when he regained his ability to look handsome, lust was added onto emotion and… well… things went from there."

"It's all so romantic…"

Harry snorted. "Not really. We still fight like kneazles and crups, and sex is something of a competition. Tom is… consuming. He makes me forget who I am, what I am, what my purpose is. It is like he's destroying me from the inside out, but I'm loving every minute of it. And in those rare moments where he becomes something more than the Dark Lord, something in his eyes…" Harry gritted his teeth and looked away. "That's enough, Cissy. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

The woman sighed, but nodded nonetheless. "It was more than I expected. Thank you, Harry. You know I would have done this regardless."

"I know. But you've been good to me, so who am I to deny you?"

Narcissa smiled more widely than he had ever seen her smile, her teeth showing and her eyes crinkling at the corners. Harry wondered if it was an effect of the alcohol or her own amusement, but she patted his knee and stood before he could think on it. "I'll go get Zinnia over here now. Just wait here."

"Alright."

Harry felt blank as he waited, eyes far-off. He had to stop himself several times from playing with a section of hair, not wanting to have Zabini and Narcissa arrive to see him braiding it. It was bad enough that Tom had caught him at it several times; it would be hell on his reputation if he let anyone else see it.

His affection for Tom scared him. Just months ago he had been denying that he even knew what love was, and now here he was so hopelessly fallen that he doubted he would ever find his way out. How did he know it was love? How could he possibly judge an emotion so grand? He had no experience with it beyond platonic, but something in his heart screamed that it was a surety, that there was no doubt. He loved the man, the terrible, cruel, homicidal maniac with the mind of a genius and the passion of a tempest. He was so bloody hopeless.

Harry was still chuckling at himself when Narcissa returned, a hard-eyed Zinnia Zabini behind her. The woman looked far from pleased to be there. She was beautiful, as the stories said, with long hair in twists and adorned with the faintest magical glitter. Her eyes, even more exotic and captivating than her son's, set on him and she halted, gasping.

When the surprise narrowed to a glare, Harry wasn't surprised. Whatever it was about him that effected Blaise obviously effected her as well, and her forward progress was much more stiff. She chose a seat as far from Harry as possible, hard eyes trained somewhere to his left.

Harry nodded to Narcissa with a half smile before turning to the dark-skinned woman and frowning, watching her. "Ms. Zabini, I wish we could have met under more pleasant circumstances."

She hissed under her breath and finally met his eyes. "What is it you want with me?

"Mostly I simply wish to know of your son's, and now your own, reaction towards me. So far as I know, I have done nothing to deserve it, but if I had it would be best for me to know."

Her face settled into a blank mask, alluring eyes searching his face. "Narcissa said my son was in danger."

"And he is. He openly challenged me and was very derogatory. Even if I wasn't enraged enough to kill him, if the Dark Lord got wind of it he would surely do it in my place. If I am to spare him, I want to know why he would be so hostile."

"Why would my son have spoken to you?"

Harry inclined his head. "He had an interest in becoming a Death Eater."

"You are Mylläkkä, are you not?" she snorted. "A silly name for a silly boy."

Harry gritted his teeth and cursed Valerian mentally, scowling dangerously. "I would thank you to keep your commentary to yourself. My choice of name has reasons behind it in which you are not aware. You are as impetuous as your son and it is not doing well for your lifespan."

Cool, black eyes settled green and the woman tilted her head back as she spoke, a faint accent coming through as she spoke. "You are a killer. I am a Dark witch, and that holds little meaning to me. But you are a killer of more than just those opposed to you. Tell me why you killed my nephew, and I might be more amenable."

"What? I am quite sure I do not know who your nephew is."

Zinnia was looking to his left again, and he saw something sad in her eyes. "He was only eight years old. What manner of monster are you? He was a squib, how could he have deserved death? And where is my sister-heart? She would have told me, I know, if you had left her alive."

Harry was well and truly confused, and raised an eyebrow. "You are rambling, and I still am no closer to understanding just what you are on about. I assure you that I do not kill children."

The blank mask shattered as she glared. "You are a liar Mylläkkä. Your name is more fitting than I thought. You prance about as if you are something to be watched, something to be feared, but you are little more than a misstep in time. Kalfu's wrath upon you, boy, for the sins you have committed."

Harry's mind jolted, and suddenly everything clicked into place. A boy, brittlely thin with over-aged dark eyes that shone amber. "'Are you a spirit sent from the moon, then? A child of Mawu?'" Harry murmured, meeting the similar dark eyes of Zinnia.

She jolted and stared, the mocking glint to her eyes fading. "What did you say?"

"'Please Angel. I wish to go to the moon. Mother loved the moon.' That was what he told me. He had killed her, you know. He was so… old. His eyes haunted me for weeks."

"Wh--" Zinnia was shaking. "He wouldn't have, you lie again!"

Harry glanced to his side, where her eyes were trained. "He was a werewolf. Did you know that? He had been infected somehow, and killed his mother. He was alone when I found him and her body was beside him."

A long silence, punctuated by the erratic beating of the woman's heart. "What did he call you?" she breathed, still not looking at him.

"Angel. He called me angel." Harry jolted as he said it, a faint second memory appearing. 'Borrowed time, Angel.' Ghosts of remembered pain danced over his skin, and Harry wished he understood that memory. But this was not the time for trying to decipher it.

Zinnia Zabini stood slowly, her robes swaying faintly with her trembling. "Spare my son, and accept my apologies. I must go. My son will trouble you no more."

Harry pitied the woman as he saw tears filling her eyes, even as she briskly exited the room. Harry turned to Narcissa and sighed, giving her a wan smile. "The old adage comes to mind 'Be careful what you wish for.' I wanted answers, she wanted explanation. Somehow, I think neither of us are satisfied."

The blonde smiled pityingly, and Harry had to look away. At least now he knew, and there was nothing to be done for it. He only hoped Blaise didn't do anything more to cause him problems, because now he wondered if he would feel guilt in killing him. It was a foreign concept these days, but something in his gut told him he would.

Silence reigned.

So that child he had killed had been Zinnia's nephew, Blaise's cousin. With their Necromantic blood, it was no surprise that they had taken offense. Even without undergoing the training necessary, those with the blood could see those killed by a person. Some victims were content to let themselves fade away and find peace, but others could linger for months or years at their killer's side, watching and waiting for their own vindication.

But why did the boy follow him? He had wanted to die, had asked for it. Did he hold a grudge for some reason?

Harry wished he understood, and as he stood and thanked Narcissa once more before making his way back to the front door, he knew his questions probably wouldn't have a straightforward answer.

Though few could even begin to guess at why, many noticed the dark expression that seemed to take over Harry Potter's face at breakfast. For the few who possessed a bit of creature blood and were magically sensitive, the black rage was nearly pain inducing.

And in the weeks to come, Gryffindors would think back to this moment and swear that Harry Potter's eyes had been inhumanly bright and his pupils slitted. In hindsight, of course.

All because of a simple note sent by innocuous owl post.

'Dumbledore is on to you; he is searching for a spell to reign you in - by force, I must assume, as he was researching compulsions and mind control. I hope you have contingencies, and whatever plans are in the works can be moved forward. He is not a man to sit much longer on this problem if he truly thinks he will lose you.

-An ally'

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait, but this is two chapters in one (the longest yet!). The next chapter will probably take me a bit, as well, and be extra long, too… because this chapter and the next one are probably the most important in the story. If I don't remember everything, I'll totally screw up the plot. So I've been very, very careful with it, and made sure I put in everything needed. I don't want a bunch of dangling plot threads (-cough-deathly hallows-cough-).

Revised: 3/21/09 (This was another chapter that I had rewritten bits of an lost. I still did some editing, including adding some to the Zinnia scene to explain two parts people were confused by.)