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

This chapter is dedicated to the lovely, wonderful members of the S.S. Sssssss. They really are the reason this chapter was finished, by boosting my pea-sized ego to the size of a walnut and making me feel like a celebrity. I'm proud to be a member. :)

//This is Parseltongue.//

I hope this doesn't disappoint you all. It might not be what you expected.

Super, super long chapter (10k! That's GINORMOUS for me!) as an apology for my writer's block. Also a warning for lime-ish citrus. It is sex, but not overly explicit; sensation is more described than actions. You should be able to tell which scene it is and skim accordingly.

Paraselenic

Zugzwang // a chess situation in which a player is forced into making a disadvantageous move

The meal had been a terribly ordinary affair, and when he would look back on it weeks later, Harry thought that should have been his first clue that something huge would go wrong. After all, how often did things stay 'normal' and 'ordinary' for Harry Potter?

Somewhere out there, fate once again laughed at his expense.

"Paeniteo exsulo!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Harry growled under his breath as he stormed away from the Great Hall, anonymous message clenched in his fist. Hermione followed apprehensively, eyes darting around them. It wasn't long before a hand on his arm yanked Harry into the shadows, and the brunette cast a Muffilatio around them.

"Harry, what is it?"

He stuck the letter out, seething. "I hope you managed to finish the scroll last night, because I need to send it to Voldemort now."

Hermione read the letter over and paled, hands shaking slightly. "Harry… Harry is this the best path? Are you sure about this?"

"What the hell are you on about? Cold feet now, Hermione? You've been fine with this…"

"Yes, well," her voice was indignant and Harry fought the urge to smile despite the situation, "It's all been setting in still, you know. I mean… Harry, is this right? Death Eaters and killing and plotting against Dumbledore… I'm scared for you."

"I'll be fine. This is the life I chose, and I will see it through. It will get better."

Hermione sighed and nodded, leaning back against the stone wall and staring hard at him. "I'm with you, Harry, if this is what you really want. I just need to be sure you know what you've gotten yourself into."

"You'd be surprised how aware of that I am, actually."

He made to leave the alcove, but Hermione gripped his robe at the elbow. He turned eyes, less furious then before but still somewhat glowing, towards the girl he had known for so long. She wouldn't meet his gaze. "Harry… what about Ron? He's… he's really upset…"

Harry sighed and turned back to her. "I know he is… but it is the way it has to go. I didn't expect to have any of you stay by me through all this; I had been ready to let you all go. This is war. I can't let childhood friendships be an obstacle to my success. I just want this war over with so I can fade into obscurity and be done with it."

"You're willing to just let him go?" she said softly, still not looking at him. Her bushy curls obscured most of her face. Her voice wasn't accusatory, but Harry felt the underlying allegation nonetheless.

"I love you both, you know. I did then and I still do. I find it funny that so many assume I could dismiss you all out of hand. It might have been some time ago, but when you spend your life alone, the first bonds you forge tend to sink rather deep. If I was given a choice to keep you both beside me, I would take it even with all the extenuating circumstances... even if our friendship can never be the same, even if I can't interact on the same level with you anymore. But in this, the choice is Ron's… and yours. I won't force you, Hermione."

Finally warm brown eyes rose up, wet but steely. She smiled tremulously. "I'm with you, Harry. I told you that. I just… I wish this could be different."

For the first time since his return to the time period, Harry yanked at her arm and brought his arms around her. He had comforted her only a few days prior, but this was a real hug, one that had him wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resisting the urge to squeeze. Moments like this he was reminded of his own humanity and wanted nothing more than to bask in it, knowing he still had the capacity. "Sometimes I do too, you know. But we'll make it work, huh?"

And he swore to himself he would.

As they entered the Potions classroom, Harry made his way to his usual seat with Hermione right behind him. He was waylaid, however, by a cocky call of his name, drawing his eyes to the imperious Draco. He sighed and waved Hermione on before trekking across the classroom to the Slytherin side, where he was unceremoniously dragged down into a seat.

"So, Potter, having a good day so far?"

The question was seemingly innocuous, but Harry could see the anxiety in Draco's eyes. Perhaps he had been a bit more angry at breakfast than he'd realized. "Just fine, Malfoy. And you…?"

Draco smirked, but Harry could see him peering around the room through blond lashes. Seeing that too much of the room's attention was on their interaction, Draco stretched his arms and spread them over the back of the seats on either side of him. He glanced at Harry, face still fixed in superior amusement. His voice was low enough not to be overheard by a casual observer, but he remained cryptic anyway. "Ah, had a few hiccups in my plans this morning, but otherwise I'm just fine. I'm a bit concerned for a friend of mine; he received a letter from his mother and has been a bit despondent since then. Have any idea what I could do for him? Emotional rubbish is Gryffindor territory, right?"

"Hmm," Harry said thoughtfully, stealing a glance at the very back of the room where Blaise Zabini sat quietly, eyes focused on his hands and a vacant expression on his face. "I imagine they might have had some sort of loss in the family and been blaming the wrong people. I am sure that once they assimilate their concerns, things will go more smoothly."

"Ah, that's a relief," Draco murmured before leaning closer. "Are you sure nothing's the matter?"

"If you want to know, why don't we go to the Slytherin dormitories after lunch? I think we can both afford to skive out on Defense."

Draco stared at him for along moment, silvery eyes narrowed, before nodding decisively and stretching back. "Alright, then. You sure you wouldn't rather go to another room…?"

Harry snickered and smirked. "Well, seeing as Dumbledore is under the impression that we have some kind of torrid affair going on, I think I'd like to see your rooms."

The reaction was instantaneous, a pale pink tinge starting on Draco's neck and creeping up to his face. "What?" Harry couldn't hold back a laugh as Draco's voice came out in a squawk. "Why in the seven hells does everyone think I'm gay? Morgana's tits, man, I like girls!"

Harry put his head onto the workbench as he tried to stifle his laughter.

"Come on, now! Is there just something about me that screams 'homosexual'? I am the picture of masculinity!"

"As comforting as that is to know, Mister Malfoy," a voice suddenly interrupted, and Harry swallowed his laughter to meet the blank face of their professor. "I believe this is not the place to be extolling your virtues."

There were a few snickers from the surprised Gryffindors, and Severus Snape rounded on them. "All of you will open your books to page four hundred and seventy-four. Today we will be looking at the evolution of…"

Harry tuned out Snape, propping his head on his hand and closing his eyes. Within the next few hours he had much to do, too much, and he sighed as he realized just how much. Between all the planning and setting up for Dumbledore's information to be revealed, he wouldn't be able to get away to see Tom for days. It rankled him, as usual, to know how dependent he had become on the man's company, but he noticed the feeling was much less pronounced than it had been in the past.

Love did strange things. Harry wasn't sure how much of a good thing that was.

He needed to contact Tom first off, let him know to go ahead and send someone with the information to Rita Skeeter. Giving her the first dibs on the information guaranteed it would be slanted how they wanted and give fuel to the fire once the other agencies across Britain and the continent got a hold of it. Once he'd given Tom the go-ahead and relayed the warning he'd been given, Harry needed to meet with those inside the school. He had a feeling things would be coming to a head sooner rather than later, and he wanted them to be aware of what should be done in the event something went wrong.

But that would have to happen over the course of a few days, because if Dumbledore was actually suspicious enough to make a move, it would do no good for a couple dozen students to go missing at once for a meeting. He'd have to pull aside a few people at a time and make sure to hash out the details.

He needed to speak with Dante and Severus as well. He would leave it up to them what they would do, as no options seemed better than the other in his mind. Letting them stay if he was ousted afforded them information from what would be behind enemy lines, but there was more of a chance of them being found out if they stayed.

"Potter!"

Harry yanked himself from his plans, narrowing his eyes at the contemptuous look on Snape's face. "Yes, sir?"

Only Harry would have noticed the subtle twitch of Snape's lips at the honorific. "If it isn't too much trouble for your dismally small brain, Mister Potter, you would do well to pay attention to the lesson."

Harry heard a few aborted giggles behind him and wondered how confusing it must be for the Slytherins. On one hand, it was a habit learned of years in Potions class to laugh at Harry Potter's misfortune, but on the other… Harry Potter was their new lord. Harry almost felt badly for them.

Harry raised an eyebrow and got the barest nod in return, a sign of equanimity that had been becoming more common in the last weeks. Snape's manner had calmed significantly even in the weeks since Christmas, and Harry couldn't help but be thankful for it. He hadn't warmed up to Harry, by any means, but he was considerably more easy to get along with.

Snape continued with the lecture, and Harry finished planning in his head. The next days would be tiresome.

The Faded Light of Albus Dumbledore
By: Rita Skeeter (1)

Albus Dumbledore. Head Boy in the 1898-99 school year, Winner of the Barnabus Finkley Prize for exceptional Spell-Casting, Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, as well as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Albus Dumbledore has been Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since 1955, and a good many of us have learned under his tutelage. He has molded the youth of the Wizarding world for over fifty years, and Dumbledore has become one of the icons of our society.

But as this reporter learned this week, not all is Light and beautiful in the past of Albus Dumbledore.

There are shocks in store for any who believe the iconic wizard to have lead an unblemished life. I am speaking of much worse than a brother with a penchant for livestock, worse than his imprisoned father. Even beyond the questions surrounding the suspicious deaths of his mother and sister, there is one very black mark upon the beacon that is Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore was once the homosexual lover of Gellert Grindelwald, and was plotting to overthrow the Statute of Secrecy and subjugate Muggles.

Now, dear reader, I beg you not to fret. This was a terribly long time ago, after all, and Dumbledore was but a disturbed child. But these things beg to question just how many other secrets the leader of the Light has hidden within his aged mind. How worthless his speeches towards furthering Muggle rights seem now, how murky his past might be.

This makes a person wonder, reader. The champion against the Dark Arts once dabbled within them. The defeat of Grindelwald might well have been the actions of a jilted lover. The Headmaster of our childrens' school might well have played a nefarious role in the deaths of his mother and innocent sister. Can we trust this man with our children? Our future? (for more details on the horrible truths of Dumbledore's past, see page two. For an interview with Bathilda Bagshot, aunt of Gellert Grindelwald, see page three. For a letter from Dumbledore to Grindelwald, see page four. For reactions, see page five)

"Well, my lord, this was one way to handle things."

Harry chuckled and shrugged a shoulder. "It has certainly caused a stir already. Any reports from Hufflepuff?"

Zacharias tapped a pencil against his cheek. "Right now, they feel betrayed. They don't know who to trust, but the Headmaster's refusal to speak out against the accusations is wearing them down. They don't know who to believe anymore."

"Possible converts?"

"Not many as of now. Once you're out in the open, though… expect some possibilities."

Harry nodded. That would have to do. "Any comments?"

Zacharias shifted a bit. "Hum, nothing much. I'm looking forward to seeing this play out, though. I'm sure I chose the winning side, and I'd like to be able to show my family that."

Harry smiled. "Not much longer now."

The Leader, the Legend, the Liar: Albus Dumbledore
By: Betty Braithwaite

Stripped away is the admired image of a benevolent ruler, brimming of wisdom. In its place is left a gap of lies and murky waters, waiting to pull the Wizarding world under.

As a youth, a previously upstanding Albus Dumbledore took up with a young man named Gellert, whom we all know as one of the more fearsome Dark Lords of all time. Friends and reported as more, it was a friendship that pulled Albus down to that of a dictator in training, plans erupting for world domination "for the greater good". (for more, see page 5)

When Blaise Zabini cornered him outside of Herbology that week, Harry's first instinct was to pull out his wand. But the dark eyes had lost their menacing tint, and the anger he saw there seemed self-pitying. "Potter, I would like to express my regrets for my atrocious attitude of last week. I was out of line to question your actions."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "So… you're sorry?"

"Didn't I just say that?" spat Blaise, an indignant twist of his lips forming before he seemed to force himself to relax.

Harry did pull out his wand now, examining it before meeting Zabini's eyes. "I will curse you the moment we get off the grounds, Zabini, I swear it. Your attitude is going to get you killed."

Blaise straightened and bowed jerkily at the waist, staying bent. "Please forgive me, and please allow me to join with you in the Dark sect. Having Necromantic blood is as much a curse as it is an asset, and I am able to see the forms of any deaths attached to a person. I… I am not used to seeing so many as you have around you, and to have seen my young cousin at your side… I lost my mind these last weeks, my lord. My mother…"

"Your mother what?" Harry paused and pushed his wand back up his sleeve, turning away. "I think you need to reevaluate what you want. I won't accept you as you are, and Voldemort would probably kill you. Decide what you really want, and then come see me, hmm?"

He peeked back in time to see Blaise slide down to his knees.

Lies In New Light: Dumbledore's Dark Secrets Revealed
By: Trish Pettingale

A sister locked away in a dark room, a mother dying tragically. Father imprisoned for dark acts upon Muggles, brothers estranged. A dark figure influencing them from the shadows. Such was the way of things in the Dumbledore family. What was the truth behind his dark family past? Was his sister ill or abused? His mother a tragic victim of a backfired spell or dead from guilt? Was Albus's delay in defeating the previous Dark Lord Grindelwald a matter of time, or a matter of lingering affection? (For these questions and more, see page 8)

"Dead?"

Padma nodded and bit her lip, and Harry wanted to run when he saw tears building in her eyes. But guilt was encroaching on the edges of his awareness, eating at him for having let something like this be going on under his nose without working to find out more.

"Yes. My cousin is too young for Hogwarts and Dumbledore won't give her asylum, even though the Headmaster seemed okay with werewolves before. And… and somehow the Ministry found out about her and Auntie… and they came for her."

Harry cringed as the tears began to fall, awkwardly wrapping an arm around Padma's shoulders. "How did your mother get mixed up in it?"

"I don't know! I just know they were there to take my aunt into custody, something about registration for Werewolves… and I only know that one of the Aurors on the mission killed both Auntie and Mum. Or maybe more than one, I don't know. But my cousin… she's at home and without anyone. No one wants to watch a werewolf child. They're all so bigoted they can't even see straight! And… and still Dumbledore won't let her in the school! She's alone and who knows what happens to her when she's transformed?! I just…"

Harry was thankful that Draco entered the Room of Requirement then, raising a sculpted brow. "Great Salazar… have I interrupted some tacky Gryffindor bonding session?"

Padma snarled, and for one moment Harry wondered if she was a Lycanthrope too. But the sniffled again and keened lightly, and Harry turned away from his contemplation. "Draco, I need you to take Miss Patil down to Severus. Tell him she has a cousin who would do well with a monthly allotment of Wolfsbane, if he could spare it."

Draco gave an incredulous look and opened his mouth, but he shut it as Harry glared. "Oh, fine. Come on, Patil."

It took Harry several minutes to convince the girl to go with Draco, and once he did he put his head in his hands. He wasn't cut out to be a leader. He hadn't known anything that was going on under his nose… because he hadn't cared. There was a reason he didn't think much of power, and it all stemmed back to not wanting to be the responsible one. He hated this obligated feeling, and he hated even worse the knowledge that he should have done more.

Harry made his way to Dante's rooms, deciding he needed to train.

Dumble Fumbles Childhood of Harry Potter
By: Rita Skeeter

There is no question in this reporter's mind that Albus Dumbledore has taken a disturbing amount of interest in our young hero, Harry Potter, from the start of his life. But what kind of impact has that had on our savior? What kind of twisted ideals has the newly tarnished Headmaster had on the tragic boy hero?

As one of the few people alive who can really say they know the real Harry Potter, this reporter intends to look into just that. Is the Savior of the Wizarding World lost to us? (see page 2)

"The world is kind of a mess right now, Harry-who-isn't-Harry."

He grimaced. "Well, it will all be right in the end, won't it?"

Luna gave a distracted smile. "The Wrackspurts say that only the Joining of the Two can make certain of the world's temporary peace."

A jolt ran down Harry's spine, and he focused green eyes on Luna. "What was that?"

She hummed. "The Wrackspurts said…"

"No, I heard you, Luna. What do you mean, though?"

"Well, I don't mean anything. It isn't me who is telling you, is it?" She tilted her head at the ceiling. "Although, technically, I suppose I am, aren't I? But it just isn't me saying it to begin with…"

Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Can you tell me what the Wrackspurts are, Luna?"

"Well… they're Wrackspurts, of course."

Harry groaned louder, deciding there was no use questioning Luna and wondering if Neville could get a better answer.

Was the Death of Grindelwald a Lover's Spat?
by: Ember Blacksmith (2)


Recent facts have come to light as the past of self proclaimed Leader of the Light, Albus Dumbledore, was actually friends (and maybe more) with the Dark Lord Grindelwald. After the death of his mother, Kendra, Dumbledore was left to care for his younger brother, Aberforth, and younger sister, Ariana. Their father had disappeared sometime in Dumbledore's first year on a mission to Transylvania, to deal with the vampire uprisings (more information on page 5) and their mother was left to care for the three of them alone. Throughout the years, Albus Dumbledore was able to achieve much. He helped Nicholas Flamel discover the 12 uses of Dragon's blood, and became renowned though the Wizarding world. But when Mrs. Dumbledore passed away, Albus Dumbledore returned to Godric's Hollow, and 'sacrificed' his future to take 'care' of his crumbling family. But how much care did he actually give them?

"He were a head case, that Aberforth," says Enid Smeek, whose family lived on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow at that time. "Ran wild. 'Course, with his mum and dad gone you'd have felt sorry for him, only he kept chucking goat dung at my head. I don't think Albus fussed about him, I never saw them together anyway."

So what was Albus Dumbledore really doing, if not comforting his wild young brother? The answer, it seems, is ensuring the continual imprisonment of his sister and the wild rendezvous with his lover, Gellert Grindelwald. Grindelwald was originally the fiancé of Ariana, but it seems Albus fell in love with Grindelwald and competed with his sister for his affections. Eventually Dumbledore won him over, but still felt threatened by his sister. As a caution, he imprisoned her in the mansion that was the Dumbledore estate.

The poor conditions that Ariana Dumbledore was kept in caused her to contract Pneumonia, a muggle sickness that is usually not harmful to wizards (more information on page 12), but with her weak immune system she quickly succumbed to the virus. Grindelwald found out about Dumbledore's actions not long after and was infuriated. Grindelwald then challenged Albus to a duel, where he ultimately met his death by a nasty cutting curse that beheaded him. Dumbledore was distraught with the death of his beloved, and had to be admitted to St. Mungos's Mental Care Ward where he seemed to fully recover after three years.

But did he really? Is that infernal twinkle in his eye a sign of insanity? Is he really fit to teach our children, the future of our society? Is Albus Dumbledore manipulating us like a chessboard, for some notion or revenge or jealousy?

The articles had come out of nowhere and seemed to roll in over the course of the week, and Albus Dumbledore didn't know what to do anymore. How they had gotten their information was a mystery, but Albus couldn't concentrate on that now. No, not when his favorite student was fading so quickly. Albus had caught hidden smirks over the exaggerated Daily Prophet articles, grins with far too much cheer for the oppressive air the castle had taken on.

He placed a hand over his chest and massaged slowly as he stared down at the latest batch of rumor and speculation. How had they known about Gellert? Bathilda might have been able to give them a lot of information on his younger years, but that was one thing no one had known. Not a soul had been aware of his torrid affair, his lapse in judgement. But ah, how his heart still ached over chances lost.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was securing the hope of the Light and bringing Harry Potter back from the darkened place he had fallen. That he could take pleasure in an old man's misery only spoke of how lost he whispers were escalating from every which way, and Albus knew he had to act now.

For the good of the Wizarding world.

Harry leaned against the doorway with a faint smile, watching Tom sleep. It wasn't even midnight yet, but Harry had no idea how long it had been since his lover had last slept. The lightly glowing wand held loosely in Tom's hand told Harry that sleep had not been coming easy, or else time hadn't allowed for rest. Either way, it had been serious enough for Tom to put himself into a forced sleep again.

He shrugged off his robes and laid them over the chair by the door, sitting on the edge of Tom's bed and watching the most feared wizard alive doze. His brow was slightly pinched despite the spell's ability to make one relax, and his head laid on his hand. Harry didn't try to resist the urge to push a bit of dark hair behind Tom's ear, fingers trailing down his neck and resting over Tom's chest. The steady beat of his heart went on under Harry's palm, and he wondered what it would be like to take that away.

In his teen years, his purpose in life had been to eradicate this man. Many nights he had wished for an opportunity like this, finding Voldemort unaware and unable to fight back, ending his existence and freeing himself from the terrible curse on his head. And now here he was, hand lightly over Tom's heart and feeling it beat in a slow rhythm, yet without any plans to kill him.

It always amazed him how far he had come in the last few months. From a shaky truce to… to… whatever it was that they had, the strange relationship that Harry doubted Tom would acknowledge the depth of. But Harry did, even if Tom was reluctant. This was something unlike anything he had imagined, this love, and he could finally understand why men fought and died for this emotion.

"Ngh, it's too early. Leave me alone."

Harry jolted and focused on Tom, who had shifted and dislodged his wand from his hand, breaking the spell. Harry sighed and carded his fingers once more through dark hair. "Shush now. Go back to sleep."

A bleary, crimson eye opened into a glare. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting here, obviously."

Tom scooted towards the other side of the bed with his eyes closed once more, lifting the blanket. "Either get in here and sleep or leave. I don't want you watching me."

Harry smiled but obeyed. He made quick work of his clothing and slid between the sheets, accepting it when Tom wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him near. Harry slept on his stomach, Tom with a cheek resting on his back. "That can't be comfortable, Tom."

"Don't care," Tom grumbled, voice slurring. "Just sleep already, loçkë. You're annoying."

Harry didn't feel tired, but he quieted down anyway. He spent quite some time just listening to Tom's breathing and relishing in the comfort after a long week.

Harry poked around the random parlor he had wandered into, fingers tracing over dusty furniture and taking in the out of date theme of the room. This seemed to be something Tom had never gotten around to renovating, leaving it as it was when his father had owned the house. A few magazines laid under the coffee table, most of them women's magazines from the early forties. Harry smirked at the title of an article: 'How To Be the Best Wife You Can Be!'

He had been helping with meetings all morning, seeing contacts with Tom and taking notes on the information given. He felt like a bloody secretary and would be disgruntled if Tom hadn't been taking notes as well. But after three hours of meetings, he was quite ready to take a break, and he had begged off with the excuse of needing the loo.

His eyes lit on the corner of the dusty room, and a small smile crept onto Harry's face. And old gramophone, a wind-up version that was so ancient that Harry wondered if it was still serviceable, was gathering dust on a low table, several 78s stacked at its side. Harry didn't resist the urge to flip through them, choosing one at random and fiddling with the player.

He didn't hear Tom enter the room as he tinkered, but once he got the record playing and spun around to continue his explorations, he saw the man leaning on the door frame with an eyebrow raised.

"Do you always feel the need to resurrect old muggle appliances, Potter?"

"Only when I'm bored."

"You were supposed to come right back."

Harry spun lightly as the song began to pick up, grinning as Tom rolled his eyes. "This is more fun. Dance with me, Tom!"

The amused exasperation faded to a glare. "I don't think so. I don't go in for such rubbish."

Harry danced forward, grin widening as Tom began to move backward. "Come on, Tom. Live a little."

"I don't dance, Potter."

Harry seized his lover's wrist and yanked him forward, arm going around his waist and pulling his body flush against him. "Then I'll lead. It doesn't take a genius to dance when there's no one watching."

Tom's scowl was furious, but Harry ignored it, pulling the feared Dark Lord in circles around the free space of the room. "This is foolish, Potter. Unhand me this instant before I curse your hands from your body."

Harry released Tom's hand and using his newly freed hand to tap the man's nose, regarding him with a critical eye. "Are you embarrassed?"

Tom growled. "As if I would ever…"

"Shut up, Tom," Harry grabbed up his hand again. "Just do what I do."

The music flowed through the room as Harry coaxed the man along, pulling him through a simplified dance. Slowly Harry felt the tension draining from taut shoulders, and slowly Tom began to move with Harry instead of jerking himself along. It was good that Tom didn't dance, because that kept him from realizing what a horrid dancer Harry was. He swayed a bit and leaned into Tom's slowly relaxing grip, pleased when the hand that had been sitting awkwardly on his hip slid around his waist.

"You're such a damn child, Potter."

Harry would have ignored the phrase no matter the tone, used to the derisive snips by now. But as it was, it had been said with a soft fondness that Tom usually only ever let slip when he was half asleep, and Harry pressed his face into Tom's neck to hide his smile. His grip around Tom's waist tightened, and Harry sighed against the soft skin of Tom's neck, letting his lips trail faintly across his lover's pulse. He felt the chill run through Tom and pressed closer, tongue darting out to lightly taste.

"Ugh, Potter… don't start anything that we don't have time to finish. In half an hour I have to call the Death Eaters."

Harry bit down, careful of his fangs but still nearly breaking skin. Tom cursed as Harry pressed his tongue over the spot more insistently. "You're the bloody Dark Lord, Tom. You don't have to do anything. Make them wait. And stop calling me Potter, for Merlin's sake. It's annoying. Why not go back to the nice one you called me last night? What was it… I dunno, I'm shite at foreign languages."

Tom went rigid in his arms and tried to pull away. "Let me go now, Potter."

Damnit. "What in the hell did I do this time?" Harry tightened his grip. "Don't fucking run off again, Tom. I'm sick of you clamming up like this."

The glare he got in return was scalding, but Harry stayed resolute. Crimson bore into green, Harry could hear the escalated beating of Tom's heart surrounding him. He didn't understand why Tom always felt he had to run away, why he panicked like this at the oddest moments. Well… it wasn't panic like a normal person would panic, but for the emotionally inept Tom Riddle it was the closest translation.

And then Tom shut down, eyes shuttering and face blanking of all expression. Two hands wrapped around Harry's wrists and squeezed at the pressure points, making him relinquish his grip. "Do you wish to know, Potter?"

Harry forced himself not to cringe as Tom's thumbs pressed deeper into his wrist. And as Tom transformed into Voldemort in a fluid motion, Harry realized the mindset his lover was in. Their tempers were explosive and notorious, and no one was more aware of the dangers of their fury than themselves. Retreating entirely as Voldemort just had was a sure sign of smothered explosion.

"This isn't done, Tom."

Voldemort's face remained stoic and his brow arched. "On the contrary, Potter. I think you'll find it is."

Harry was left wondering just how far-reaching that statement was as Voldemort swept from the room, never even meeting his eyes.

Harry paced through the lines of Death Eaters, glaring at any who fidgeted in place. Anger had quickly overwhelmed defeat, and he was aching to take out his own fury on hapless followers. He shot a curse at a shorter Death Eater who sneezed, giving a dark grin when they screamed. Having a few bits of one's flesh peeled away in hair-thin strips was likely to be painful.

He reached the front and made his way toward another column, eyes purposefully ignoring Voldemort where he was sitting upon his throne. He had called his Death Eaters and left it at that, letting silence stretch over the room and attempting, Harry thought, to drive them all insane. So Harry had begun his inspection, throwing out nonfatal, painful hexes and curses at random Death Eaters that pissed him off by existing. It really made him understand why Voldemort Cruciated his followers so often; it was relaxing.

It was pure chance that Wormtail slunk into the room as he was running out of minions to terrorize. The balding man was, as usual, without any Death Eater regalia and was crouched low to the ground inside the door, bald head gleaming with nervous sweat. Harry took great pleasure in the first of what was likely to be many curses.

"Crucio."

Peter screamed and hit the floor, and Harry could feel the attentions of the others in the room turning towards them. Mylläkkä was known to rarely deal out the Unforgivables outside of battle, and for him to resort to it now promised a show.

Harry lifted the curse and flicked his wand, casting a nonverbal summoning on the lump of a man. Peter whimpered and curled into a ball at his feet, making Harry's sneer intensify. "Sniveling traitorous rat. Why do you continue to exist? You do no good to your lords, you have no purpose but as a target for curses in boredom. Didn't you ever wonder what would happen when you stopped being entertaining? Crucio!"

Peter screamed louder, the intensity of the curse made deeper as Harry's rage was funneled into it. True torture was not often his method, but he held no qualms against it beyond not thinking it inspired loyalty.

"Didn't you ever wonder, Peter, what would happen when your duplicitous fuckery caught up to you? Did you ever lie awake at night and see James and Lily at your bedside, ready to take their revenge?"

Peter gave a high pitched whine over the screams of the curse. "They would have understood!" Harry didn't have to wonder at the quick response or lack of wondering why 'Mylläkkä' would ask about James and Lily; he didn't think the Cruciatus left much time for logical thinking.

Harry jabbed his wand forward and broke the curse, leaning down and breathing over Peter's sweating face. "I cannot say whether they would have or not, Wormtail. But I know that I couldn't give a fuck less. And I am your executioner in their stead."

Harry stood and spun on his heel, facing the room full of black-clad Death Eaters. They had given up any pretences of not watching once it became apparent that Voldemort's sole attention was on the form of their other lord. He scanned over them, briefly glancing to Voldemort and seeing nothing more than a blank sort of intrigue. He sneered at the mass of Death Eaters and cocked his head. "I will make no pretence of hiding myself any longer. If you take issue with my identity, you can go fuck yourself and die by my wand or Voldemort's. I am Harry Potter, and if you have problem with that, give me one moment to address my pest."

Peter's face was twisted into a silent scream, but it seemed he was unable to force the sound from his throat. Harry smiled, a feral upturning of his lips.

"Yes, Peter. Didn't I say I would see you dead? You didn't think I would, did you? Thought ickle Harry Potter too good to sully his hands." Harry jerked his wand to the left, sending Peter careening across the stone floor to meet the wall with a sickening crunch. "Let me tell you something you might find interesting, Wormtail. I'm not a good person. I am possessive, depraved, violent, and without mercy. Do you see the fate you created for yourself?"

Harry fired a curse at Peter that had little obvious effect, but the slow tensing and harsh glaze to the traitor's eyes gave his pain away.

"Do you like that one, Peter? I found that in a book about Grindelwald. A favorite of his, it said. It grows your hair backwards and at super speeds, making it slowly choke you from the inside. Your arms, your legs, the paltry excuse for hair on your head… all turning to fill your body. It is a slow death, and disgusting to be sure. Whomever thought of it needed a shrink. But as we speak your hair is growing into your veins, blocking your lungs, growing toward your heart. Your skull will be worked through soon, and then your brain will go. It shouldn't take more than ten minutes."

Harry turned away from the retching noises Peter was beginning to make, eyeing the terrified group behind him. "Does anyone have any issue with who I am?"

Murmurs of 'No, my lord' filled the chamber, and Harry finally met crimson eyes. Voldemort's bored look had edged into amused, a smirk twitching the corner of his mouth. "Dramatic much, Potter?"

"Ah, you taught me well."

//You might have told me you planned to give yourself away at this meeting.//

//I might have, but since you were being a royal prick, I thought this better. It made me feel better at least.//

Voldemort glared, but rather than argue he rolled his eyes and looked towards his Death Eaters, spidery fingers tapping on the arm of his throne. "Now that Mister Potter is done with tonight's entertainment, we shall get down to business. Tonight we raid Diagon Alley."

Harry strolled back to the front of the room after putting a silencing spell on Pettigrew's choking screams, blocking out the rat's final moments of life. There were few worse insults. "This attack will be a scare tactic. Torture and frighten, do not kill. Kill on your own time, but when you are making a statement with the Dark Sect, stay on the plan. We enter as a group, and once the Dark Mark has been thrown into the sky, we leave immediately. No prizes or trophies. In and out."

"Precisely," Voldemort said with a bit of scorn, but Harry easily ignored the slight. He couldn't care less if his partner was disgruntled to have his lordly monologue interrupted. "We must impart on the common witches and wizards that we are not afraid. They cannot think of shadow-skulking miscreants bent on torturing helpless Muggle filth. We will remind them why my name is never to be spoken. They have become too compliant and trusting."

Grunts of affirmation echoed in the chamber, and Voldemort rose from his throne. Harry pretended he wasn't admiring the Dark Lord's poise as he spread his arms. "Go."

Harry fired Stunners at a fleeing woman and her child, putting them out of danger of being damaged in the melee. He knew many of the Death Eaters held less morals than he did, and he couldn't justify harming a small child or a parent in front of a child. Screams echoed and Harry closed his eyes, a chill of excitement running down his spine.

"Do you think telling the masses of your identity was a good idea, my lord? It could get back to Dumbledore that way."

Harry opened his eyes and turned to Lucius, masked and robed and firing off curses in a bored manner. Harry shrugged. "It isn't like it would be believable if they tried to rat me out. And anyway, these games are coming to an end. My plans are nearly realized."

"Alright, my lord. I wish you luck, then."

Harry smiled and sashayed towards the blond, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Luck, hmm? I've missed seeing you these last weeks, Pretty. Things just aren't the same without your company."

Harry nearly laughed as Lucius turned up his nose. "I think you will survive."

"Perhaps…" Harry grinned and slid chest to chest with him. "But why should I have to without your presence?"

Lucius gave off a nervous air now. "My lord, I do not think this is the best idea…"

"And why not?"

"The Dark Lord would be terribly unhappy to know… we were not participating in battle."

Harry snorted. "Weren't you going to say that he is a jealous prat and you don't want to piss him off? Screw Tom, he's being an ass anyway, and he has no say over my actions."

"I'd rather stay out of your lover's quarrel." Lucius took a step back and fired a Cruciatus into the corralled masses. "I refuse to be your revenge. I would not like the repercussions."

Harry scowled in annoyance and aimed a Flaying curse at an angry man on the outskirts of the crowd. He screamed and Harry felt a bit better. "It has nothing to do with revenge. I am quite sure Tom would categorize our relationship as something less than important anyway, so what is there to revenge, really?"

Lucius shook his head as he fired another Cruciatus; the Death Eaters were all so unoriginal. "Keep me out of it, my lord."

Harry gritted his teeth and turned away, firing a succession of curses into the crowd. Death Eaters were inside the shops flushing people out, gathering them in the area just outside the Leaky Cauldron. It would have been a massacre had Voldemort allowed deaths.

Harry heard the screams of terror reach a fevered pitch, and he turned slightly to watch Voldemort stroll forwards. He wore robes of a rusty crimson, something like drying blood, with his hood thrown back to expose his favored guise of reptilian horror. Slitted nostrils flared as a grin spread its way across his face.

"Wizards and witches, take heart. You are not going to die today."

Sobs broke out and the terror only increased, and Harry shuddered as he realized he badly needed a meal. Voldemort raised a hand and locked eyes with him, flicking his fingers in a summoning gesture. Harry arched a brow but obeyed, strutting toward the front of the group and smiling placidly at the cowering mass.

As he reached Voldemort's side, his hand was seized and he was yanked forward to be flush against his lover, staring into his familiar eyes set in the grotesque visage. //It has been too long since I have experienced the euphoric feeling of the masses trembling at my feet.// His hands slid down to grip Harry by the hips. //When we get back to the manor…//

Harry chuckled and shifted, grinning as Voldemort swallowed a groan. He knew he couldn't respond in Parseltongue, so he spoke in a murmur. "You are such a twisted bugger."

"That I am."

Harry felt his previous irritation drain away, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Long fingers dug hard into his hips before he was released and turned to face the crowd with Voldemort at his left.

"You will all be spared this day, but I want you to remember this," Voldemort hissed. "You all might have died this day. The paltry wards over Diagon Alley are no match for me, and there is nothing stopping me from killing you all at any time. Remember and spread the word, peons. Lords Voldemort and Mylläkkä let you live this day."

Those people who were not frozen by the sight of Voldemort flicked their eyes to him, and he was suddenly aware that this was the first raid in which they had not killed all witnesses of him. He smirked widely and stood a bit taller, though he shot an amused glance to Voldemort at his side. "You are an overdramatic ponce, you know that?"

Voldemort chuckled loudly enough to be heard, and Harry's smirk widened to a grin as the panic spiked. Without anything more than a promising grin, Voldemort raised his wand to the sky. "Morsmordre!"

And they were gone, leaving the terrified denizens of Diagon Alley to sob their relief.

Skin to skin, fingers bruising his hips. Harry arched back from his perch atop Tom, groaning as Tom tightened his grip even more and pressed him farther down, eyes rolling back into his head. Bliss surrounded him, engulfed him. There was nothing else but these moments, joined in the most visceral way and with instincts driving their every move.

"Fuck, Tom…" Harry bit out, sweat tickling his neck.

Tom growled and Harry found himself chest to chest with his lover as Tom sat up, hands sliding from Harry's hips to curve around his backside and lift him. The angle was exceptional and Harry had to nearly swallow his tongue to avoid whimpering. The pace had slowed but time seemed to as well, foreheads pressed together and breath mingling. Tom's eyes burnt him, the color inconsequential in comparison to the intensity.

Harry leaned forward to bite the man's lip, a keen escaping his throat as the pleasure sought to drive him mad. He was gasping now, leaning into Tom and gripping the shortest of his dark hair, their lips brushing. Harry didn't care if it was all a dream anymore, he didn't care that Tom would never stop switching moods and denying his feelings. In the moment, the shocks of pleasure were enough, the emotions coalescing around them all he needed. Even if it was a lie, it was a beautiful one.

"You love this, don't you?" Tom murmured against his mouth, "You love it when I'm within you, you love it when I move your body and bring you pleasure. You never want this to end, do you loçkë?"

Harry nodded and let his head fall back, exhausted but unable to stop now. Fingers held his backside firmly and kept him in place, unable to move. He locked glowing eyes with desire-glossed crimson. "What the hell, Tom?"

"Say it. Say you love this."

Harry didn't hesitate. "I love this."

"Say you want this forever."

He released him and Harry groaned as the pace began again. "Oh Merlin, I want it forever. Don't fucking stop again, Tom."

On his back now, Tom hovering over him with Harry's legs around his neck. "Tell me more, Harry."

Harry's moan was nearly a scream this time, the combination of the angle and Tom saying his name so sensually combining. His cries because a stream of nonsense, a litany in Tom's ear. "I love this, I love this, I love this, I love you, don't fucking stop again or I'll kill you, I swear it!"

The force of his orgasm was blinding, making his back arch off the bed until he could see the sheets beneath him. The scent of blood reached him and he knew his nails had broken skin where they were clenched on Tom's shoulders, and he found himself diving forward to sink in his teeth around Tom's collarbone. Tom groaned and thrust hard, shuddering as his orgasm tore through him and Harry laved at the blood he had created.

It was long minutes before Harry pulled away, the location of the bite only giving him small amounts of blood, but enough to content him as he rode out the final contractions through his muscles. Tom had collapsed atop him, lean body heaving. Harry sighed and rolled sideways to dislodge his lover.

"Ngh, that was great."

Tom didn't respond, so Harry turned to meet his eyes. What he saw there confused him, even as Tom gave a forced smirk. "Of course it was. What else did you expect? Now, I need a nap."

Harry laid there staring as Tom turned onto his side, looking at the back of his head. What had he done wrong?

The meal had been a terribly ordinary affair, and when he would look back on it weeks later, Harry thought that should have been his first clue that something huge would go wrong. After all, how often did things stay 'normal' and 'ordinary' for Harry Potter?

Somewhere out there, fate once again laughed at his expense.

"You're a right prat Neville, y'know that?"

Neville snickered from Harry's right side, and Harry smiled as Ron continued groaning. He had used the time turner and returned to the afternoon, after Tom had forcedly ignored him for the remainder of the evening while pretending sleep. There wasn't anger or malice, but Harry knew that Tom was closing him out nonetheless. He didn't understand it.

Ron and Neville's teasing argument pulled him back from his confusion, and he laughed as Neville waved his fork. His humor had improved with his self-esteem, and it really made Harry feel a sense of pride as the boy acted without caring of others' opinions of him. And Ron had calmed down immeasurably, giving a sense of peace to Hermione and letting Harry relax.

Neville swallowed his food and gave Ron a wry look. "It isn't my fault she doesn't want to date you. You made an idiot out of yourself on your own."

"You didn't have to start laughing!"

"You told her that her breasts were bouncy! What did you expect, for her to jump into your arms?"

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione said around a pencil, her plate pushed aside for a book, "Lavender? She's as vacuous as an air pocket. Don't you have any sense of taste? Even if you weren't utterly incompetent with women…"

Red was spreading from Ron's ears, across his cheeks and nose and creeping up his neck. Harry couldn't help a smothered laugh, and felt badly for his friend. Even he hadn't been that hopeless… though he couldn't fault Ron for managing to be infatuated with Lavender. She was a nice looking girl, despite her annoying tendencies. However, Harry knew with certainty that Ron and Hermione would end up together someday, some strange case of opposites attracting. He would be surprised if they both lived through the first year together, though.

Ron's wand was out suddenly, and his twitching scowl made Harry scoff and pick at another biscuit. There was nothing malicious about the redhead in the worst of times, and at the moment he just looked like a lost tomato. "Remember when I said I'd get that nickname spell from Fred and George? They owled it yesterday!"

Neville began laughing as Ron incanted the Nickname Jinx, diving behind Harry while clutching at his stomach. Harry pushed himself back to get out of the spell's line of fire, only to knock heads with Neville and lose his balance. As the spell collided with his shoulder, Harry felt the blood leave his face.

Where laughing had been moments before, dead silence resounded. Hermione gave a choked gasp from Harry's right, and Neville was groaning in sorrow. Others around him froze with forks halfway to their mouths, eyes wide and fixed overtop of Harry's messy hair.

The sound of silverware hitting the table and gasps of horror were slowly grabbing more attention, but Harry was just as frozen as his peers. What in the hell had just happened? He knew, honestly he did… but he didn't want to believe that things could go so wrong so easily, so quickly. He didn't want to think about being so close to his goal and having a stray prank jinx ruining months of work. He didn't want to think about the look in Ron's eyes, the shock and horror etched over his features and barely moving lips.

"It was s'posed to be a joke. Why isn't it being a joke? Why isn't this funny?" Ron muttered, a continuous commentary that was soon the only sound. Harry didn't have to move to know the entire Great Hall was frozen by now.

Because above his head, in cheerful orange letters with random fireworks busting around them, spelt out his doom. His secrets. His identity.

Harry James Potter

Mylläkkä
Pet
Boy
Freak
Loçkë
Potty
Pup

The list went on to include every name he's ever been given by people from his childhood, Malfoy and his cronies, teachers, friends, and adults around him. Most things it gave away were of little consequence, and he doubted anyone had made it past the second entry anyway.

Suddenly function roared back to him, and Harry pushed back from the table, not stopping to apologize as he bowled over Neville in his haste to stand. The groan of the bench seemed to snap the rest of the school out of it as well, and Harry fought a cringe as the screams began. He yanked out his Phoenix feather wand; it was far more attuned to him and therefore stronger than his Blackthorn one.

He raised it level just as Dumbledore drew his own, blue eyes narrowed and bearded jaw vibrating with tension. "Oh, Harry…"

Harry shook his head and forced on a smirk, burying his panic and pulling out his hard-tuned cocky attitude. "Don't start, old man."

"How did it come to this, dear boy? What could have happened to turn you to Voldemort? He killed your parents, he is the reason Sirius was killed…"

Harry snorted. "It is a bit late for this tripe, Dumbledore. I've made my choices. This Wizarding world will flounder under your guidance, and I refuse to see you manipulate people any farther. Voldemort is an ass, but at least he has the right ideas and has the ability to compromise." Harry flicked his wand slightly and felt calm drift over him as he smirked more easily. "But don't think I'm about to start spilling master plans and monologuing. I'm a more fit kind of villain."

Dumbledore thrust his body forward over the staff table, wand hacking left to right as he bellowed, "Paeniteo exsulo!" (3)

Harry knew if he dodged he would lose his chance, and planning wasn't really his forte anyway. With all his unquenchable Gryffindor abandon, he braced one foot back and lifted his chin. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

As the bluish spell Dumbledore had cast struck Harry in the chest, his last sight was of Dumbledore summoning a plate to protect him. But he had no time to curse as blackness overtook him.

(1): This is largely paraphrased and adapted from pgs. 22-27 and 353-359 of Deathly Hallows. I have photocopied, highlighted papers I'm working from here. Booyah.

(2): Credit for this article goes to Secret13. Thank you for responding to my plea!

I'd also like to put in that most of the article titles were courtesy of Tsurai no Shi. She is my goddess and inspiration as usual.

(3): Paeniteo exsulo is something like 'Be exiled to repent' except without grammar… if Ammene is still around (or anyone else with better knowledge than a English à Latin dictionary) and wants to help make this not crappy… I'd love that. Something simple to imply the same meaning would be great.

This chapter should get us to 2,000 reviews. I can never express my gratitude and how touched I am. You all are the reason I've not given up in frustration.