Disclaimer: As this story begins to come towards its end, I still do not own the rights to HP & Co.

Warnings for some mini-smut. And lots of confusion if you haven't reread in a while. -__- I feel like such an awful person. But here's 10k for you, with the epilogue on its way within a week or two at most.

Paraselenic

Abnegate // to refuse or deny oneself; reject; renounce; relinquish; give up.

Harry awoke with a gasp.

Sound didn't pause to wait for his acclimatization, instead roaring to meet him the second he broke consciousness. Angry voices, or one at least, hissing expletives that Harry couldn't quite make out. What was going on?

"This was supposed to fix him, Pierce! Why hasn't he awoken?!"

It was like swimming through mud. Harry tried to grasp at comprehension, hold it so that he wouldn't submerge once more into nothing. Lights and sensation swirled around his mind, a groan pausing in his throat and dissipating.

"It will take time, Voldemort. You are too impatient."

"This isn't about patience, you bloodsucking pain in my arse!"

Harry nearly found it in him to smile.

Tom was there.

Blackness came once more.

"Oh, Harry…"

Harry looked up tiredly into pale blue eyes, the white of the Hospital Wing spreading a halo of light around Dumbledore's head. He let his eyes fall shut.

"Did it have to turn out this way, my dear boy?"

His eyelids felt like lead, and opening them was an epic production. His breath wheezed as he forced himself to see, meeting the age-hardened lines of Dumbledore's face. "What are you doing here?"

Rough fingers ran across his cheekbone, and Harry remembered the years he had looked up to this man. Cherished him. Exalted him. For a moment he felt like he was eleven again, lying in bed recovering after having stopped Voldemort from gaining the Philosopher's stone. Gentle eyes twinkled down at him, but the memories of the intervening years cast long shadows on Harry's perception.

"Get your hands off of me."

Dumbledore's lips pursed, but he withdrew his hand, moving to link his hands in front of him. "Ah, Harry… you've grown up so much. Where did I go wrong?"

The fuzziness of the sedative potions Poppy had forced down his throat was fading, and Harry pushed himself up onto his elbows. A rivulet of hair tumbled across his vision, and Harry shook his head to push it away. "It wasn't your job to raise me; I am my own person. I was never yours, not your weapon or your pawn or your Merlin-be-damned grandchild. Believing I was yours to do with as you pleased was your biggest mistake."

Dumbledore grimaced, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening. "Perhaps… perhaps you are right, Harry. But was this path really the right one?"

"Right… wrong… it is subjective, don't you think? Was it right of you to do the things you did to me? Was it right to brainwash thousands?"

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "Is it right to kill, Harry? To plot with the greatest evil of our time for world domination? My crimes are paltry in comparison."

"To you."

Harry watched the way the old wizard's jaw trembled, but then his shoulders sagged, a defeated huff of air leaving him. "You have grown so much, my boy. I am sorry that I failed you so."

"I don't consider it a failure. I am quite happy with how my life turned out."

A twitch of a creased mouth, a lightening of blue eyes. "I suppose you are stronger than I was. I could never have come so far as you. I..." he frowned now, pale blue eyes searching Harry's face. "Am I odd to feel proud of you? I do not condone your actions, I do not like being defeated, and I certainly do not wish this was the way things had ended. And yet... I am proud of you, my boy. For being strong enough to build your own path, even though it conflicts with my own."

Harry couldn't respond to that, staring with wide eyes at the smiling eyes of Albus Dumbledore. He stood, his hand moving once more to brush the hair from Harry's forehead. Harry didn't move as a finger traced his scar.

"I wish you luck, Harry. In all you do. I wish you to be the temperance Tom could never find, and I wish you happiness for all that I do not know how you could possibly find it."

"H-Headmaster..."

Another smile, heartbreakingly wide. "May you have the peace I was never able to afford you."

The door to the hospital wing banged open, the vision of blue robes and eyes dissipating into nothing. Had it been a hallucination?

"Harry!"

Hermione ran at him, leaping onto his bed and clinging to his neck. Harry awkwardly patted her hair. "Erm..." he said, throat scratchy.

"Oh Merlin, you had us all so worried! Are you feeling alright? You look like shite. Oh, it will be dawn soon and we've got to get you into a safe room. It's been hours, Harry, and Voldemort is angry and the students are without hope--"

"Hermione!" Her jaw clicked shut. "What is going on?"

"You've been out all night between the spell and the ritual. Everyone is still cloistered in the Great Hall. You do remember the ritual, don't you?"

He jerked through a nod, pushing her off of him and swinging his legs off of the bed. The ground tilted.

"No, no, don't try to move on your own. You lost so much blood; you can't expect to move yet. I just needed to get away from the hall. Malfoy is insufferable, isn't he?! He was driving me batty with his whinging, and I just knew I had to be close to you so I could calm down. But I can go back, tell Professor Pierce and V-Voldemort that you're awake and they'll come for you. Or maybe Professor McGonagall," she gasped, "Did you know McGonagall was a Death Eater, Harry? How could you not tell me? It was so shocking, I feel like I don't know who she is anymore! Oh, Harry, people are so upset..."

He raised his hands to his ears to block out her babbling, several successive attempts at calling her name going unheeded. After long moments of an agonizing throbbing with the rising and falling tones of her voice, Harry remembered the potion and grasped his feeling of her, yanking on it like a leash until she subsided. He groaned.

He heard her hiss from beside him, then listened other footsteps move quickly across the room. "Why didn't you say your head hurt? Oh, I'm sorry, Harry..." she pressed a pain-relief potion into his hands, ducking to look into his eyes.

He sighed and thumbed out the bit of cork stopping the bottle, tipping back as he drank. The relief worked on both his throat and his headache, instantly soothing both. He melted back into his pillows for a moment.

Hermione's fingers were running through his hair, her breathing and heartbeat calmed now. He listened to the steady rhythm with half an ear as he collected his thoughts, compartmentalizing them and trying to make sense of the night. It felt like months since he had awoken.

He had shot the Killing Curse at Albus Dumbledore in front of the entire student body of Hogwarts. Impossible to forget that. Harry stifled a groan. How could his perfectly laid plans have crumbled so easily? He had finally stopped being cocky and taking notice of his surroundings, finally gained real appreciation for his mission... and he'd botched it. How unlucky was he?

But there was no use in moping about it, there were more important things. He'd woken in that strange alternative world after Dumbledore had hit him with that spell – he needed to see what that spell was, damnit – and that had been... hell. How could something that had seemed so perfect while he was immersed feel so sickening to him now? Being some little pawn was not a happy idea to him, nor was being the whipping boy of the entire Wizarding world. He'd practically been taking it up the arse from them all for his entire life! It was revolting.

He remembered the shade of his mother, the fond smile as she sang and the way she'd spun him as a child. Perhaps... the fantasy hadn't been all terrible. He pushed the melancholy away that threatened him at that.

Then the world had taken a dark turn, forcing him to die at the hands of some strange shade of Voldemort. That had been ridiculous. And... disturbing. Harry quickly ignored his waking, the visions of his parents and Sirius, the way he'd broken down at Lily's feet, saving any contemplation on that for some time in the far, far future.

And then he had been confronted by Dante, Hermione, Bellatrix, Blaise, Ron, and Tom. A ritual, Hermione had said. He didn't have enough information on that to made any kind of judgment on it, and that bothered him. Harry very much disliked being uninformed. And then he had finally woken into what he could only assume was finally reality, speaking to a dead man.

He swore to himself that he would never, ever take a slow and content life for granted again.

He sat up again, slowly this time, taking a moment to look towards the dark pre-dawn sky. He was a vampire now, entirely. He wouldn't see the sun again for a century unless he was keen on being fried to a crisp. A century. It wasn't the most terrible loss he could endure, but he had a feeling it would seem quite a large one as the years went by.

Hermione sat straight beside him, lower lip caught between her teeth. "Are you alright now?"

He nodded. "I am. I need to get into the Great Hall, though, before Tom does something stupid."

"If he hasn't yet he can wait a few more minutes. He's..." she paused and glanced at the door in hesitation. "He's been beside himself."

Harry scoffed and stood, wobbly but without any great trouble. "He overreacts to everything. Mark my words, within an hour he will be back to his old, terrorizing self, scaring his minions and harping on me for not standing straight enough."

She hummed. "I don't doubt it."

He started towards the door, pausing with his hand on the rail of a nearby bed. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever heard of the word Loçkë? It's some kind of a nickname."

Hermione tapped a finger against her lips. "Cannot say that I have, Harry. What is it?"

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing important."

"I'll look it up if you like?"

"No rush."

As he began walking to the door once more, Hermione caught up to his side. "I can't say this is what I expected for you, Harry, but I'm happy anyway. I can see that you love him."

"Love?" he said with a chuckle.

"You might be able to fool a lot of people, Harry James Potter, but I'm not one of them."

He shrugged in a slow motion, curving and trotting down a staircase. "Maybe so. That is far from the largest of my issues right now, though."

"I didn't say it was. I just wanted you to know I was happy for you."

He smiled faintly, slowing to a stop and turning. "You're a good friend, Hermione. Thank you."

She smiled, but it was shadowed with fatigue and pain. "Tell that to Ron. I don't think he'll recover from this."

"I never thought any of you would."

He started walking again, not wishing to be caught in maudlin reverie. Ron was another problem he would shove away as far into the future as he could.

The Great Hall was quiet as he approached, and Death Eaters stiffened when they caught sight of him. He was still bed-rumpled and his hair was disheveled, but Harry couldn't find a thing in the world he cared less about at the moment. Hogwarts was a school, not a war zone. It made him uneasy to have it tainted with his army.

They parted for him as he approached, leaving him with a clear view into the hall. Tom sat with narrowed eyes on Minerva McGonagall – honestly? Of all people, her? – at the Head Table, fingers drumming on the tabletop. They spoke in low tones that hummed through the room, silent students dozing against one another or on the house tables. Many began knocking their friends awake, though, when he was spotted in the doorway, hand flipping back his cumbersome hair.

It didn't take more than half a moment for Tom to zero in on him, crimson eyes blazing. He stood with tense finality and circled the table, coming to rest at the end of the aisle, staring at Harry with heat.

Harry moved, one foot in front of the other until he was only a foot away from Tom, lips tilted in a lopsided grin. "Miss me, Tom?"

Long fingers gripped the front of his robes, yanking him forward hard. For an inane moment, Harry thought for sure Tom was going to kiss him in front of the entire Great Hall. When he was merely snarled at, Harry had to choke down a laugh at himself. Right. Like Tom was really that much of a sap.

"Are you whole?"

"Erm... yes?"

Tom shook him jerkily. "Unacceptable. Are you whole and unharmed, Potter?"

He gave an irritable glare, reaching out to push at Tom's chest. "As unharmed as one can be with the shite I've been through in the last few hours. Can we get the hell out of here, Tom? I'm sure you've got everything settled by now."

Wary eyes trailed over his face, flicked down his body. Tom's jaw was set but the barely noticeable shake in his hands told Harry all he needed to know, made his heart clench.

"I would be better prepared to ascertain his well-being if you released him, Lord Voldemort."

A glare to the side, lips thinning to nothing. "Pierce, get it over with."

Dante's familiar smirk was a relief, a balm on the fried state of his mind. He'd only just noticed how utterly exhausted he was, how much he wanted to crawl away and sleep for a week. The sky was slowly lightening according to the ceiling, and he knew he didn't have much time left. But Dante just flicked his wand once, eyes following whatever it was the spell told him. He have a small nod. "He is fine."

"Fine? Mentally, physically? He is unharmed and unchanged?"

Harry was getting quite irritated at the questions, but a cooling of Dante's eyes kept him quiet. "I cannot judge his mind. Effects may yet present themselves. However, he is more himself than anything else."

It was only months of intimate knowledge that let Harry see the change in Tom's posture to signify his acceptance and appreciation of the answer. "Good. Well, Potter?"

He looked around the hall slowly, at the faces that stared at him in fear and betrayal. He glanced towards the staff table where McGonagall had taken over the chair of the Headmaster, the drawn faces of the people he had known for so many years. They needed some tincture of normalcy if they were to recover. He nodded. "Ready when you are, Tom."

A nod to Minerva had her closing her eyes, and Harry had no sooner noticed before Tom's arms were wrapping themselves around his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his clothes. And they were gone with a deafening crack, Harry's last view of Hogwarts being of Minerva McGonagall, tendrils of hair snaking around her face and sitting like a queen on her throne for whom all was right in the world.

The familiar buzz of Riddle Manor's wards enveloped him as they reappeared in Tom's office. Harry sagged back against the arms that held him, taking in the destruction of the room. Papers were strewn over the desk and across the floor; an end table was reduced to splinters. Tom had lost his temper in here recently, and Harry didn't need more than a single guess to know why.

Tom's voice was hoarse when he spoke, grating and purring against Harry's ear. "If you ever do something that monumentally stupid again, I swear I will hang you by your toenails."

"Stupid?" Harry scoffed. "That was every day fare for Harry bloody Potter. I don't even know what in the hell happened most of the time."

Tom finally released his hold on Harry's waist, stepping around him and glaring. "I feel much the same. I want answers, Potter. How did you manage to be outed to the school? What in Salazar's name possessed you to fire a Killing Curse on Hogwarts grounds in view of half the Light population?" He slunk for his desk, sliding into his chair and raising an imperious eyebrow at Harry.

With much less grace, Harry dropped into the chair opposite Tom's desk, his wand flicking towards the window at the man's back to set a shade over it. Dawn would break soon. "I dunno, seemed like a good idea at the time. He had me at wandpoint, the room was in shock... I was about to lose my chance entirely, so I thought it would be best to at least take a stab at offing the bastard."

"Red and gold?" Tom said, scowling at the curtains. Harry gave an unrepentant grin and Tom flicked his wand, changing them over to green and silver before sighing. "In any case, you are quite possibly the most ignorant brat I've ever encountered."

Harry hummed and shot Tom a grin. "It worked, didn't it? After all those years of escaping you, I've gotten good at using my Gryffindor instincts. Hasn't failed me yet."

Tom ran a hand over his face, a muffled chuckle escaping his throat. "Only you, Potter."

"Why don't you enlighten me to what the hell happened while I was out? What spell did Dumbledore hit me with?"

"Shut up, Potter, I'll tell you what you need to know." Tom pushed back in his chair and tilted up his head. "You were, apparently, put under a spell intended for forming slaves."

Harry jerked in his seat.

"It puts you into a parody of a perfect life, lulls you into contentment, then pulls it out from under you. Immediately after, you are bombarded with as much emotional and physical pain as possible in an attempt to pull you under the control of the caster. You are made to..." Tom trailed off with a dark sneer, "repent for your shortcomings or face death."

"Well, I'm thinking that I'm not dead. Why's that, do ya think?"

"Perhaps your Vampirism had something to do with it, I can't be sure. The spell was intended for humans."

Harry nodded slightly. "Hmm, makes sense. I wonder if my visit from Dumbledore after was a side-effect?"

It was Tom's turn to jerk, posture straightening as he glared at Harry. "'After'? When did you see Dumbledore?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "In the hospital wing. Don't get your knickers in a twist, Tom, it was nothing."

Tom's glare was glacial, but he quickly moved on. "There was a ritual involved to wake you in an attempt to keep you from losing yourself. Your Marquis came to oversee it."

"Valerian was here? Why didn't he stay?"

Tom shrugged. "You would have to ask Pierce. I had no part in that. Speaking of Pierce, I will have to return to Hogwarts tomorrow to make sure there is no rebellion and to set wards around the building. We can't have children writing their families with news of Harry Potter's betrayal after all. We need to get the Ministry under control first."

"The Ministry?" Harry leaned forward and settled his elbows on the desk. "Have plans advanced so far already?"

"They've had to be accelerated with new developments. Fudge stumbled upon knowledge he should not have had and was taken captive. The Ministry is in an uproar and now is the most opportune time to strike."

Harry nodded vaguely, eyes trailing off to stare at a mirror on the office's wall. "I suppose you're right. What do you intend to do, then? Surely we cannot simply occupy the building and hope to keep it. Opposition is thin right now, but that doesn't make them harmless."

"Obviously, Potter. We will implement a new Minister from our own forces and keep a guard to weed out any who think to work against us. Many will die and be replaced by sympathizers. I have no qualms against forcibly pushing the situation into our favor."

Harry hummed and looked down at his hands, admiring his tanned skin. It wouldn't last long. One hundred years without sunlight would bleach his skin white, and even after the sun was uncomfortable. It took hundreds of years for a vampire to feel at ease in the sun. Harry sighed.

"What are you moping about?"

Harry shrugged without looking away. "I'm not moping. I'm just thinking of the changes to come. I never had hopes for immortality, and I'm already wondering whether it is more a curse or a gift." Harry could practically hear Tom roll his eyes.

They sat in silence for long moments, Harry's eyes feeling bruised and heavy. As a vampire, he needed very little sleep, but when hungry it was always worse. It felt like he hadn't fed in weeks, though he knew it had really only been a bit over a day.

"We will return to Hogwarts tomorrow evening for business. I need to see Minerva's plans for the future."

"McGonagall, hmm? How long?"

"Minnie has been in my service for nigh on sixty years. The perfect spy: a Gryffindor, trusted and loved by Dumbledore, unwaveringly loyal. Rather than feeding me information like Severus was tasked to do many years later, Minerva was to dismantle and pull apart plans from inside. She has been working for years to make sure everything turned out just as I wished it to."

Harry shook his head. "I can't see it. She's McGonagall for Merlin's sake! I can't believe you never told me."

"Why bother? Would it have changed anything if you had known?"

"S'pose not." Harry stretched his arms over his head and moaned out a long sigh. "I'm knackered. I can't go out to get anything to eat until nightfall. Got plans for the day?"

"Lucius is setting the stage for the Ministry, and I don't plan to reenter Hogwarts until you can accompany me. There is little to do today."

Harry grinned and leaned over the table, lips curved wickedly. "I think I can find something for us to do."

Tom raised an eyebrow, tongue running over his lower lip. "Oh? Enlighten me, Potter."

Harry leaned over the desk and proceeded with his enlightenment, pressing himself viciously against Tom and tangling his fingers in his hair.

Hot breath fanned over the back of his neck, raising the hairs on end. The glide of skin against skin, the way fingers dug into the jut of his hips. This was heaven. This was the way life was meant to be.

Long fingers carded through his hair, trailing down his spine, and Harry pushed back into the languid movements of his lover. He groaned as Tom chuckled, and cool lips trailed along his shoulder blade. Slow thrusts were driving him mad, but a firm grip kept him from speeding the movements.

"We should be leaving soon, Loçkë..."

Harry whined, arching his back. "Then get on with it, damnit. You're driving me mad."

"So impatient..." Those fingers wrapped around his thighs, spreading him apart and pushing down his neck. "What do you want, then?"

He groaned, tossing his head. "Go faster!"

His prayers were answered as the pace was quickened, leaving Harry to grip at the bedsheets and clench his eyes closed. He concentrated on Tom's racing pulse, the scent of sweat-slicked skin and musk, the blunt scrape of nails against Harry's skin. Could there honestly be more to life than this? Was there something beyond the perfection of joining into a single being, panting in unison, climbing up the rungs of pleasure? Harry felt his muscles jerk as a hand slid beneath him and tugged and oh, Merlin, colors seemed to dance behind his eyelids and he was screaming...

He came to slowly, the weight of Tom's body against his back comforting. He listened to his lover's slow breathing, the barely noticeable hitch with every third breath. All day they had moved between carnal pleasure and bouts of sleep, lazing the daylight hours away. But there was tension there underneath the fierce kisses and the content caresses, and Harry tried his damndest to ignore it. They had always used sex as a way to keep from saying that which needed to remain silent, but the tension felt like it was suffocating him, slowly but surely draining away the exhausted post-orgasmic bliss.

Harry shifted and Tom rolled to the side, leaving Harry sticky and no longer content to just stay in bed. If he stayed, he would do something stupid... like talk. And in his current frame of mind, talking was not an intelligent thing to do with Tom.

"We really do need to be leaving," Tom grumbled, arm thrown over his eyes.

"Is there a rush? I need to take a shower."

Harry shivered as a grin stretched Tom's thin lips, teeth bared. "Ah, now there's an idea."

"I thought we were in a hurry? Merlin, old man, you're outlasting me today. One would think you'd missed me."

Tom stood in a smooth movement, fingers putting his hair back into order. "Shut up, Potter, and get in the bathroom. Now."

Normally the command would have brought out Harry's defiant side, at least begging some kind of snark in return. But Harry had seen the brief, consternated widening of eyes, the way Tom had tensed before forcibly relaxing himself. And that was all the confession Harry needed.

Besides, he was the one with the extra strength in the relationship. Just who did Tom think would be holding up whom?

They Apparated to the edge of the wards together, dressed in the most elegant robes possible without wearing dress robes. Harry thought it was overblown grandeur, but he went along with it out of amusement. Tom strode towards the castle almost immediately, and Harry wondered at how it must have felt for him to finally return. For so long he had been kept out by the ill-will wards, only allowed to return now that he had no enemy remaining in the castle that he wished death upon. With Harry's alliance and Dumbledore's death, Tom was free to visit the place that had began his journey. Tom made no move to show he was glad, but Harry knew him well enough to know that he was satisfied.

According to Tom, the students' wands would not be returned until he spoke to the school as a whole, but they had been allowed back to their dorms the night before under watch. The teachers, however, had been kept in the Great Hall to ensure they wouldn't get any half-cocked ideas about contacting anyone outside.

Harry could hear the heartbeats of the castle's inhabitants centered in the Great Hall, hundreds of people who were likely terrified and wary. Harry's mouth watered against his will, but he had been sure to feed before they arrived. It wouldn't do to make an even bigger scene, after all.

They stood at the doors side by side, and Harry tipped a fond smile in Tom's direction. "Going for terrifying or charismatic, Mister Riddle?"

Tom seemed to ponder this, a long finger raising to run over his lower lip. "I think they've been suitably terrified. Now it is time to turn up the charm."

He didn't argue when Harry pushed an arm through his, linking their elbows. "Then let's wow them, shall we?"

A wave of combined magic sent the doors swinging open, and the expected hundreds of heads swung towards them. Harry smirked as he led Tom up the aisle, bowing his head to the wide-eyed panic of the students. His eyes met Draco's across the room and Harry blew him a mocking kiss, getting a middle finger jabbed in his direction for the trouble.

His eyes moved towards the Gryffindor table, eyes trailing over Hermione, Luna, and Neville where they sat at the farthest end, other students giving them a wide berth. All three sent him a smile, though the degrees of emotion behind them varied. He noted the absence of Ron from the room and wondered where he was, but now was not a time for that. Ginny was there, though, wide eyes red-rimmed and furious. He looked away.

Minerva McGonagall was still sitting in Dumbledore's chair, dark hair fixed back into her severe bun. But there was a light in her eyes Harry had never seen before, a brightness that spoke of fulfilled ambitions and dreams come true. It made her seem years younger.

Tom gave a half bow. "Minnie. I trust there were no problems?"

"Of course not, my lord. Some... opinions seem to differ from our own, but it has been nothing that I cannot handle."

Tom smirked and nodded. "Well done, Minerva." He turned from her and towards the cowering students, and Harry let go of his arm and took a step to the side. "Greetings, students. I am Lord Voldemort." This was Tom's forte, not his. He slid towards where his friends sat clustered, slipping onto the bench as Tom began.

"Evening, Harry. You're..." Neville paused and gnawed on his lips. "You're better now, aren't you? You gave us a scare, mate."

"--your wands will be returned in due time and you will be allowed to return to your families when I see fit. Change is upon you all--"

Hermione shushed him and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I don't think Voldemort would appreciate us distracting from his speech."

"Likely not," Harry said dryly. He smiled to Neville. "I'm fine now. Still a bit foggy... and I'm going to miss daylight... but it's not so bad. I'm alive at least, hmm?"

"The trials aren't over yet, Harry," Luna hummed. "But I'm glad you're well. Not that I doubted you, the Wrackspurt was quite clear that you'd be fine."

Hermione glared at her. "Now is not the time for your imaginary friends, Luna."

"Err--" Neville cut himself off as those glaring brown eyes cut into him.

"Hermione, I think Luna knows more than we give her credit for." She glared in exasperation, but Harry raised a hand. "Seriously. She knows too much most of the time for it to be in her head."

"--forget what you think you know, as prosperity will never come from holding onto the outdated ideals of the past--"

"Oh, the Wrackspurts don't go in my head. What do you think my radishes are for? They tell me quite enough anyway, though."

Harry struggled to word his question in a way that he wouldn't get a vague answer. "And how... did the Wrackspurts know those things?"

She smiled at him and he wondered if he should be afraid. Her eyes were as dazed and dreamy as ever, but that smile held a million words. "Because they know everything, of course. The dead have little else to do but gossip."

Harry tore his eyes away, trying to make sense of it. So... the Wrackspurts were dead people? He honestly didn't understand, not that he'd admit to that.

"--Attempts to defy me will send you early to your graves. I can be summoned in a moment to this place, and I do not take treachery lightly. There is no resistance. Your Headmaster is dead, your Savior is my right hand. Your Minister is captured. Your hope is gone. But with a new regime comes a new life, and those brave enough, smart enough, strong enough to stand at my side shall be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams. I will return hope to the Wizarding world and ensure our survival--"

Harry turned back to his friends and smiled, Tom's voice fading into the background. They were watching him now as was everyone in the rest of the hall, expressions ranging from fear and disgust to undisguised amazement.

Only the binding of the Two can ensure the world's survival...

It was dark. Even with all the enhanced senses that Vampirism gave him, Harry could see nothing in the gloom surrounding him. The air was creeping around him with insidious tentacles, twisting around his limbs and seizing him by the throat. His quarry had escaped him in this blackness, but Harry knew that he only had to wait. A werewolf's vision in the dark was no better than his own.

A faint exhalation to his left. Harry sprung between the trees, a branch scraping across his face. That was of no consequence, though. He pulled his dagger even as he heard the wolf shift, the paws of the abomination skittering across the forest's floor. The blade made contact with it, though it hadn't been a vital hit. The wolf yowled and dashed blindly into the suffocating darkness, but now it was no longer silent. Harry relied on his hearing to guide him through the trees, cursing the lack of the moon.

A tree's trunk caught his shoulders, wrenching a hiss of pain from his throat. But he couldn't slow. Though its mind may be feral right now, the human would remember what it had seen come morning. It couldn't be allowed to live with what it had seen. Tom would have his ass if he didn't take out his target, not with the date that they would seize the Ministry in the wolf's head.

But damn if it wasn't dark.

The wolf's stamina was far better than his, so Harry knew he had to end things quickly. He focused all his senses on the panting breath, arm arcing back as he threw the blade. The yelp let him know his projectile had hit its mark, and Harry ran to the noise. He could hardly see the form of the fallen wolf, but he had enough sense to approach it from its back. Werewolf venom was poisonous to Vampires. With one hand he seized its muzzle and with the other he poised his second dagger to its neck. "Nothing against you, puppy, but it's a dog-eat-dog world out there, ya know? Not that I'll eat you, seeing as I'm not a dog..."

Harry chuckled at his joke as he slit its throat, yanking his hands back to avoid the blood. He cleaned the blades of his weapons on the grass. It was time to feed now, then back to Tom.

Harry walked down the column of Death Eaters, fingers twitching on his wand. This was to be one of the most important days in their insurrection and there couldn't be a single mistake. He would personally slaughter anyone who ruined this day.

"Are you satisfied, Potter?"

Harry huffed an exasperated sigh, glaring over his shoulder at Voldemort. "Are you really so unconcerned? If this goes wrong…"

"It won't go wrong."

"You're far too confident." The Death Eaters stopped breathing as he turned back towards them, gleaming eyes training over them with tension. Harry flicked his wand at a man who met his eyes, sending him to the ground in screams. It made him feel better.

It was June now, and they could not put off their plans for any longer. Rufus Scrimgeour had been placed as Interim Minister of Magic and would soon have a good handle on the hysteria caused by months without leadership or word from the Hogwarts students. The Aurors were few and scattered, the hierarchy in chaos. There would never be a more opportune moment.

Voldemort had stood; Harry could tell by the hushed inhalation through the room. "We depart now for the Ministry. After this day, Magical Britain will be ours. Are you ready?"

The cheer made Harry close his eyes. This was it.

"Everyone's in panic, Harry. Gran is having fits from all the things that have gone wrong. First the Minister was taken, then she thought I was taken captive, then V-Voldemort got the Ministry. She's a bit on edge, and she's in good spirits compared to most people."

Harry nodded, toying with his quill. "It's to be expected. But we've got a good grip on things, it shouldn't be too long now until it settles. Any word on a resistance?"

"Not yet, but it isn't like anyone would tell me. Word hasn't gotten out about my part in the Hogwarts stuff, but that won't stay so for long. Gran's going to kill me, Harry." Neville shifted and gnawed on his thumbnail, brow drawn.

"You can say I used Imperio on you if you want. I'll back you up."

"No..." Neville trailed off and inhaled a large breath. "No. I'm strong enough to live with my choices. Gran-- Gran will just have to live with them, too."

Harry set down his quill and smiled faintly. "Thank you, Neville. You've been a great friend through this. Will you be going back to Hogwarts?"

"Of course! I can't be a Medi-Wizard without my NEWTS. It might be a little difficult, but I think Professor McGonagall will keep everyone who returns in line."

"I'm sure you're right. You'll keep an eye on Luna, won't you?"

"Even if you didn't want me to."

That provoked a grin from Harry and left Neville stuttering out denials for a good few minutes. It was just too amusing to get to the boy. But soon enough it was time for a meeting with the new Minister of Magic, and Harry waved Neville towards the fireplace. "Alright, I'll talk to you next week, Neville. Keep yourself safe."

"I will. Bye, Harry."

Harry pushed away his papers and make his way down the hall to the office. He had taken over the small sitting room to meet with his friends in, but he could never get any actual work done out of Tom's office. The most he could do was make lists of things he needed to get done, a habit which made Tom sneer at him more often than not.

But then, Tom had been doing that a lot lately.

He pushed open the door and made a face when he saw the entirety of Voldemort's inner circle gathered in the room, immediately glaring at the back of Bellatrix's head. No matter his argument Tom refused to off the cow. She was no longer needed and utterly mad, but neither of these things seemed to sway him.

"Potter. Lucius should be here momentarily, so please sit down."

He nodded at Tom and sucked up an irritated sigh, sliding into the seat beside him. He moved a hand to trace patterns on Tom's hand only to have his fingers smacked away.

The door opened again and Lucius Malfoy strode through, head tilted up proudly with a wicked gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Welcome, Lucius. Or should I say Minister Malfoy?" Tom purred, a slow grin stretching his own face. It had been a coup, easier than it had had any right to be. And the remains of the Wizengamot had voted Lucius into position with hardly any persuasion.

"Minister Pretty, how good to see you," said Harry with a grin, wiggling his fingers in greeting. "Power looks good on you."

Snape snorted from his right, but Harry ignored him.

"What is the reaction to Potter's allegiance, Lucius?" Tom pulled out the main reason for their meeting immediately, steepling his fingers in front of him.

"Mixed at best. Many of their hands are stayed with the knowledge, but many more are outraged. It will take time for reality to set in on them."

A feminine snort set Harry's teeth on edge. "Ickle baby betrayer has them angry?"

"Enough, Bella," Tom warned, waving his hand. "Do you foresee any resistance to this change?"

"Undoubtedly. But it is not well organized and it will take many years for it to be such."

"If I may, my lord?" Rabastan said from Bellatrix's left. "Perhaps some of the un-outed Death Eaters should try to infiltrate these pockets of insurrection. Getting in this early will make it much easier to subvert them."

Tom nodded slowly. "A good point. I shall look over lists of names that may be of use. Potter? Any word from your little band of children?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing yet. When the school year starts there will be more information."

"Poor baby Potter, without even a use to my lord."

"Enough, Bella." If the annoyance in Tom's tone hadn't been so great, he would have cursed the bitch. "McNair, have you a report from Azkaban?"

Harry settled back in his chair, stewing silently. Useless? Hardly! He was integral to the newly crowned "High Minister" Voldemort's operations.

...Right?

Harry swirled his tea with a frown, adding another dollop of cream.

"Harry, you will meet your end if you keep adding spoon after spoon to that concoction." Narcissa was sipping her own tea with her legs crossed at the knee, one delicate hand laid over them.

"Hmm?" He glanced up and her and back down again, grimacing at the pale state of his tea. "Oh, I think I wasn't paying attention."

"Obviously not. What has you in such a state, Harry?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, Cissy. I'm just a bit underworked at the moment. Idle minds are the devil's playground and all that."

"The what? Where in the world do you get these ridiculous sayings, love?" She scoffed as she set down her cup, moving to lean on her hand. "Muggle nonsense, no doubt."

Harry blushed faintly. "Yeah, well..."

A house elf popped into the room and fidgeted, shooting nervous glances at Harry every few moments. It was a natural reaction to a predator being in such close vicinity. "Mistress, there is being Missus Zabini in the Floo, there is. Would Mistress be liking Citty to be bringing her?"

Narcissa took a glance to Harry and received a nod. "Oh, fine. Bring her over."

A quick nod had the elf popping away and a slightly frowning Narcissa staring at the place it had been. "What in Morgana's name could Zinnia want?"

"It isn't usual to entertain now that you're the Minister's wife?"

"Of course it is," she said with a huff, but Harry could see the glow that returned to her upon mentioning her new status. "But Zinnia has rarely been known to show up unannounced."

A knock at the parlor door later and Zinnia was sweeping in, dark hair adorned with bells. "Narcissa. Mister Potter." Her glare was lessened by the apathy she kept around her, and Harry knew it was more likely the revelation of his identity than anything. He bowed his head lightly. "I apologize for the lack of notice."

"Nonsense. Will you join us for tea, Zinnia?" Narcissa said politely, tipping her head towards the tea service.

"No, I was only here to pass along a message. It seems fortuitous that the very person I wished to see was already here."

Harry sat up a bit and raised an eyebrow. "For me, then?"

"Of course." The Lady Zabini sat down on a free chair, smoothing her robes around her knees. "You spared my son. I owe you a boon for this and I will see it paid in full."

Harry waved a hand. "I don't need a boon. It was convenience more than mercy, I am sad to admit. He had his own reasons for his actions and I had mine."

Zinnia pursed her lips. "Regardless, I would like this debt to be settled. I do not like to owe others."

"I don't—"

Narcissa sighed from his side. "There's no dissuading her, Harry, so there is little use in trying. What do you offer, Zinnia?"

The woman shook her head, the gold baubles tinkling lightly against her dark cheeks. "I offer truth. Mister Potter is unsettled and the world hangs in balance over his head. Is there nothing you wish to know?"

Harry surged to his feet, instinct taking him a step away from her. "No. No Seer crap."

"'Seer crap'? I assure you I am not a Seer, Potter. Sit down and mind your elders."

He seethed. "And you should mind your betters, woman."

"Please, both of you, not in my parlor," Narcissa breathed, rubbing the bridge of her nose delicately.

"I have Necromantic blood, Potter. The dead influence the lives of the living continuously, and I see that my nephew has found his peace and left your side. I cannot raise the dead nor communicate with them, but I can be a medium through which they speak. Is there no one whom you wish to hear from?"

Weight seemed to crash down on Harry's shoulders, and he sat heavily. Speak to anyone? His mother, his father... Sirius... he clenched his teeth. No, he shouldn't. Bad things came from dwelling on death and pain. But...

"Sirius Black."

Narcissa inhaled sharply, but Zinnia only nodded. "So it shall be."

Dark eyes fluttered closed as Harry watched, and he could practically feel the magic swirl around her. When the eyes opened once more they were white, pupil and iris-less, staring towards him. "Harry?"

The voice was Zinnia's, but the lilt was anything but. "Hello, Sirius."

"Good Merlin, Prongslet, what in the hell have you been up to?!"

He gave a stiff smile. "A lot more than you can imagine."

Zinnia's brow fell into a pouting moue, an expression that looked so utterly wrong on her face that Harry would have laughed in any other situation. "So... the Dark Lord, huh?"

Harry did laugh now, dry and slightly hysterical. "Yeah."

"Why did you call for me, Harry? What do you need?"

"I..." Why had he? He closed his eyes to block out Zinnia Zabini's face, his mind easily transforming her soft voice into Sirius's rough bass. "I just needed to know that you had found peace."

"Oh, Prongslet. I'm fine. Lily and James are, too. Remus is here with Tonks; did you know my little cousin had a crush on him? Poor Moony." Sirius barked a laugh. Harry felt badly that he hadn't even known she was dead. "Seriously... we don't really get all that you're doing... but we're at your side every moment. Nothing could make us love you less, kiddo."

And that was all Harry needed, and the magic stilled the instant he thought that. He didn't bother looking at Narcissa or Zinnia, raising from his seat and walking from the room, trying to reign in the emotions that had been ripped from him. He needed time alone.

He was nearly to the edge of the wards when Draco found him, broom between his legs. "What are you doing here, Potter?"

"I was having tea with your mother."

The boy scoffed. "Is that really what's become of you now? You have tea with the wives? My god, Potter!"

He wasn't in the mood for banter, so Harry simply glared and continued walking until he could Apparate away.

Harry's fingers clenched around the book he was reading, closing his eyes as he realized it was the seventh time he had attempted the same sentence. He couldn't concentrate.

"Harry?"

"Yes?" He turned towards her voice, forcing on a tight smile as Hermione pushed open the library door. "Need something?"

She shook her head. "No. I was just looking for you."

He turned back to the book – it was a good one on the theories behind wandless magic, he shouldn't have had so much trouble reading it – and watched the text fuzz together in front of him. He heard Hermione settle into the armchair across from him and flip through a few pages in a book of her own. But he knew the silence wouldn't last long.

"Do you remember when you asked me to look up that word back at Hogwarts? Loçkë?"

Harry hummed an affirmative, running his fingers over the binding.

"I found it finally. Obscure word; Albanian, actually." She began thumbing through the book in her lap and humming slightly at whatever she was reading, totally distracted from the conversation.

He cleared his throat. "And?"

"Huh? Oh! It means... well, it's a pet name. A really nice one at that. Means 'depth of my heart' or 'beloved person'. Or, well, it means 'acorn' too, but you said it was a nickname so we'll go with the first two. Very sweet, Harry. Where did you hear it?"

Part of him thought he should be thrilled. But that part of him was buried underneath months of aggressive sex and little other contact, under annoyed glares and curt declarations of Harry always being in the way. 'Beloved', huh? Tom couldn't even bring himself to come out and say it, he had to use some obscure language to express himself? And Harry remembered what his reaction had been when Harry had asked about it. His fists balled before he forced himself to look back at his book and relax.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

He grunted. "Nothing." He hoped she left it at that.

"You've been dreary for days."

He swore he jinxed himself sometimes. He frowned at the book and flipped a page, if only to look like he wasn't away from his head. "Why would I be dreary?"

"Why don't you tell me? The Ministry has been taken, the new Hogwarts term starts in a week for all who will return. Dumbledore is gone. You've achieved all you set out to... so why have you been so distant?"

Harry didn't want to answer that question. How could he explain to her the sense of loss he felt? He had worked all his life for a resolution to the damned war in one way or another… and now it was simply over? How could be explain that he was pathetic enough to be depressed over peace?

"It is nothing, Hermione." He turned back to his book and turned a page, staring at the chapter's title as he tried to ignore the stare his friend was leveling on him.

The book was torn from his hands then and slammed down on the table. "Talk to me Harry! You're worrying me!"

He scowled through his fringe at her, yanking back the book from the table and flipping to the table of contents. "It is none of your business," he hissed. "I am not a child, Hermione. I don't need someone to watch out for me."

"Obviously you do!"

"You wouldn't understand, Hermione. Now stop this."

"How can I understand if you won't tell me, Harry?"

He gritted his teeth and threw the book to the side, ignoring it as it stopped with a crash. "Stop this sentimental bullshit!"

"Then stop wallowing like a stubborn git and let someone in!"

He rose slowly, pulling himself to his full height, meager though it was. With a narrow-eyed frown he spun on his heel and stalked to the door, shoulders stiff.

"Harry James Potter, stop right there!"

He almost wished he could see the look he threw her, as something in it had Hermione's hand raising to clasp over her heart and her jaw clicked shut audibly in the silent library.

She didn't stop him as he slammed open the door and left the room, and he hated that that disappointed him somehow.

Harry slammed the door behind him, fists clenched at his side. "Get out," Tom had said. Plainly and without any of his usual snide bantering, just a flat exile from his office. Again. Harry breathed in through his nose and exhaled slowly, shoulders vibrating with tension. This was ridiculous.

The feeling of impossibility had festered in the weeks since Hermione had left; she hadn't returned since the incident in the library. He was hopeless at the financial paperwork that now inundated their operations, and without nightly raids and with the ministry properly under their control, there was little else to do. He was made for wartime, and peace was slowly infecting everything around him.

This was ridiculous. He had finally ended the war that his life had been centered around... so why wasn't he thrilled? He should be dancing in the bloody streets, not sitting with his back against Tom's door and trying to calm his breathing.

He thought it might be the way Tom looked at him. That snide disgust, so easily brushed off when he'd had the knowledge that Tom needed him, infected him now with every glance. He had never felt more useless in his life than he did in the moments that Tom would stare blankly up through his lashes, practically radiating his annoyance. Harry always did it wrong and would he terribly mind shutting his gob before Tom sewed it closed?

What place did a child bred for wartime have when the final battle had been waged? Battling to survive with the Dursleys, skidding through his teen years by the skin of his teeth with a madman on his heels, charging back into war with lust for more... he really was hopeless outside of conflict, wasn't he? He had never experienced anything like peace, so how could he be expected to cope now?

The dull tone of Tom's dismissal echoed through his mind once more, and Harry tensed up again, shoulders bunching and eyes squeezing shut. He was angry, so angry, half of him ready to run back down the stairs and punch the snobby git's face in. But the rest of him shuddered, snarled, paced back and forth within walls that closed around him. What was a predator without prey?

What was a hero without a cause?

He wanted to scream. What in the hell would his purpose be now? He wasn't suited for politics like Tom was, had no drive to be an Auror. Too many rules. Merlin forbid he even consider teaching. That was out even before the thought had reached his mind; he would go insane having to deal with brats day in and day out. Perhaps Dante had been more of an influence on him then he'd thought.

Wizards were so pathetically limited in their pursuits. It seemed everyone in Britain either worked at the ministry, Hogwarts, or stayed home all day. Outside of war, the Wizarding world was slow and monotonous, its people content to stay in the same era they had been living for hundreds of years.

So where did that leave him in the 'new' world he had striven so hard to create?

The tension drained from his shoulders slowly, the pounding in his head dulling to nothing. Apathy wound around his soul, eyes falling closed. He was so... tired. Tired of thinking, tired of being angry, tired of arguing with himself. He was tired of the disdain Tom aimed at him and tired of the way he doubted himself every morning, noon, and night. He had played his part. Hadn't he planned on leaving once the prophecy was broken? He had no purpose in this place any longer, surely, but so what? What kept him here? His friendships were crumbling rapidly with the loss of his purpose. And Voldemort? Harry's lips twitched into the makings of a snarl before flattening again, indifference blanketing him once more.

Enough was enough.

He moved to Tom's armoire and pulled open the lowest drawer, snorting at the bare number of things contained therein. Once he had left Hogwarts for good, he had thrown out all his hand-me-downs from Dudley. This left him with a bare minimum of clothing: a few sets of trousers, a jumper, and a few button-down shirts he had bought over the years. He pulled them out slowly, laying them on the bed in neat stacks. Tom's leather trousers were returned to the armoire, Harry's extra cloak pulled from the cabinet area. He wandered to the side of the bed that he had claimed as his, taking the book he had been reading from the bedside table along with his hairbrush. In a drawer he found his aging photo album with his invisibility cloak balled up beside it. Both were tossed onto the bed, and Harry took another slow look around the room.

He had so little. He spotted a ring he had picked up years ago in Sceaduwe on the unused table in the corner and strode towards it, picking it up and tilting it in his hand. The black gem gleamed red in the light, and Harry found himself throwing the ring across the room, watching with vague satisfaction as it bounced off the far wall and rolled beneath the bed. He was undoubtedly pathetic if he couldn't even stand to see the color red anymore, and he closed his eyes to take a deep breath.

As the anger left, Harry's shoulders slumped. He felt... defeated. His fingers trailed over his few belongings as his eyes looked toward the twin pillows at the head of the bed. Could he go through with this? Was the situation really so dire that he would cement his fate? Harry clenched his fists around the shirt he had been touching, staring down at white knuckles and shaking fingers.

He could and he would.

He had to.

He refused any further second thoughts, pulling his miniaturized trunk from his pocket and expanding it. With a flick of his wand his things were flying into the trunk.

"Potter? What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

A shadow of a frown on his face, Harry listened to the finality of his trunk slamming shut. A slow twirl of his wand shrunk it back down, and Harry turned as he scooped it up, meeting the burning glare of his lover. Harry tilted his head to the side slowly, trying to summon the words to explain or at least to be remembered by. But nothing came. 'Beloved' indeed.

He walked for the door, eyes pulling away from crimson as he moved around him.

"Where in the hell do you think you're going? If you think you can go on some holiday when there is so much work to be done, you've got another thing--"

"Goodbye, Tom."

He didn't look at the man as he spoke, nor did he turn around as the words Tom had been saying ended in a strangled gasp. He took the stairs two at a time and hardly even realized he was running as he hit ground level, darting past halted Death Eaters in a dash for the entry hall. He didn't hear the bellow of his name from up the stairs, he didn't see a certain blond rip down his hood as his eyes went wide. Harry skidded to a halt in the five by five area where the wards were left open, fingers curled around the wand in his pocket as he thought the incantation. Apparate!

"You have returned, pet."

A stilted smile. "There are plenty of places in Sceaduwe I never ventured in the years I stayed. Hide me there. Please, Valerian. I won't disturb my past self and I will stay out of the line of your subordinates. I can't..."

Valerian cut him off with a sad smile, waving his hand towards the hidden entrance to the Citadel. "As you wish."

A/N: And so ends Paraselenic, after a year (I know, I know, you have no idea how I suffered while toiling over this story) without update and a year before that of wonderful support. I never would have made it this far without you all.

Epilogue is all but done, just needs some editing and a few additional scenes. Some may be disappointed with this chapter, but the story ended with Harry killing Dumbledore. The rest is just for closure, it was never even supposed to be written. So please that this into account before you get upset over me skimming the Ministry takeover. That was not this fic's intention.

And don't fret, loves. The loose ends will be tied and this isn't the ending for our favorite pair. ;)

You all are amazing and I adore you greatly. You deserve far better than an author like me. Thank you for making this story a ride I'll never forget, and an experiment whose lessons I will take with me into every work I make from this point on.

Future Postings to Look For:

Of Glittering Roses and Nonsensical Mushrooms // First chapter written // Harry/Undecided Ouran/HP crossover. It didn't take a lot to start over. Taking the place of a sickly child who passed away and modifying the parents' memories was far easier than it should have been. And years in his role was almost enough to make Harry forget who he was entirely. But pasts like his never stay buried forever. /Harry=Kyouya fic/

---Odd idea, ne? Don't know if this will ever be posted, but I like the premise I have going. But there is a lot of kinks to work out along with... I dunno... an actual plot. :P We'll see.

Embracing Absurdism // 29k written // Harry/Balthier FFXII/HP crossover. Wherein magic opens eyes long closed to the world, tearing down walls previously unscaled. And two jaded souls might find something more than treasure in the ruins thereof. /Post DH, in-game, challenge fic/

---This is a loved project of mine since it is my first crossover. Just something to take out my creative energy on since I couldn't write Para for so long. Probably going up next since it is halfway complete (and I refuse to ever leave a story hanging like I did with this one ever again).

Yesterday's Dream // First year complete // Harry/Tom First year Faustus Harleigh Potter hates anyone referring to him by his first name, snobbish gits, and being talked down to. So, obviously, he despises his roommate Tom Riddle. But what Harry hates most of all... is having no memory of his life before his eleventh birthday.

---This will be a very different AU. I love playing with mindless cliches and will be integrating a lot of them into this fic to try and make them shiny and new. AU it may be... but it is also completely canon through HBP. Interested? It has an 11 page timeline, how's that for anal? :P

---Also, if anyone is interested in writing some faux newspaper articles to help the epilogue come along faster, drop me a line in review form and I'll send you info to see if you'd be up to it. ;)