Author's Note: Sorry it took so long. My friend Hannah was doing French on my computer and "accidently" translated everything on my computer into French. I don't know French. Needless to say, she took forever to fix it.
Disclaimer: I'm really cool, but not that cool.
Warning: Language. Violence. Slash. Non-slash. (Male/Female)
(***Lucius Malfoy***)
Lucius entered his home after three showers and four cleaning spells. Bellatrix was in no way an enjoyable shag. She had plenty of experience, which showed, but it wasn't things that he in particular enjoyed experiencing in the bedroom. But he could feel the new power flowing through him, mixing with his own magic. Because of that, he could handle the filthy feeling which came with laying with the woman. Lucius didn't turn around when he heard Narcissa's heels clacking against the pristine marble floor.
"Why are you still awake?" He refused to look her in the eyes as he knew that she would immediately know of his deceit. The woman had always been able to read him like a book. It had been freedom at first, but nowadays it was torture of the first degree.
"Why are you just getting back?" The retort made him turn with a glare. He was head of the Malfoy Household. She had no right to question him.
"That is none of your concern. Get back to bed." The words were sharp, and her beautiful eyes widened slightly. Considering his words were always sharp, there was only one reason why she would show such shock. She knew.
"You…" Lucius lifted his head slightly as she trailed off, poising himself for what was to come. "You're making this so much easier." Whatever he had expected her to say, it wasn't that. Still, no surprise leaked through his mask.
"Quit your babbling and get back to bed." What else was there to say?
"I'm not going back to bed, Lucius. Not with you." Now that made his brows furrow the smallest bit. What? "We're through." His wand was pointed at her a second later.
"You will not disgrace the Malfoy name with divorce." Her wand was pointed back without a moment's hesitation.
"Watch me." And then, with a pop, she was gone. Faintly, he realized that she must have taken the wards down. His world went numb as he felt Black magic flowing through him, mingling with his own. Was it because of the magic? Because he cheated? This wasn't happening! He wouldn't stand for this! Their lord wouldn't stand for it either. No, the man wanted politically powerful followers. That meant Malfoys. All of them.
(***Remus Lupin***)
Remus sat in the living room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place with Wars Across the Years in his hands, easily ignoring Sirius's rambling words.
"Can you believe this is happening? I can finally teach 'Cissa how to play pranks and she can try your cooking and we can do other stuff…" At that point, Remus smelled Narcissa's approaching scent and quietly closed his book.
"Stay." As much as he knew Sirius was excited, he didn't want to overwhelm the woman. Though he gave a disappointed sigh, the Animagus stayed put. Remus opened the door before she could knock.
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing this house appear." She gave a smile with her words. Remus returned it.
"I fully agree with that, but on a chilly night like this, it's better to be inside then out." Remus stepped aside and Narcissa, catching the implication, went inside. It was as magnificent as she remembered; elegant without being impersonal. A comfortable silence fell over them, and Remus couldn't help but feel a certain amount of content. He had always had a soft spot for the Malfoy woman. Well, he supposed she was a Black again, now. "As a fair warning, Sirius is excited to see you." No more needed to be said. They stepped into the living area and all Remus had time to do was step forward and hold out an arm before Sirius rammed against it. It was only his werewolf strength that allowed him to stop Sirius from toppling him over. Any normal man his size would be crushed under Sirius's ex-Auror strength.
"But Remmy!" The whine was enough for Remus.
"No, Sirius. You can scare her away tomorrow. Right now we need to let her get situated and have a good night's rest. Alright?" Sirius slumped against Remus's arm in a bored, defeated fashion.
"I guess so…" With that, the larger man got off of Remus and shouted for Kreacher. The Elf appeared a moment later with a loud crack.
"What do you- Madam Black!" Immediately, the House Elf slumped at her feet "Oh, Kreacher is so glad to see you here, Madam! So glad! I sorry for serving the blood-traitor, but I have no choice! Please, forgive Kreacher! Please!" By then, he was tugging on her evening gown, pleading.
"Kreacher! Get off of her!" But before Kreacher could reluctantly obey the order, Narcissa knelt down and helped the Elf up.
"There is no reason to apologize, Kreacher. After all, we haven't seen each other in so long." She didn't say anything about Sirius being a blood-traitor. "Would you mind showing me to my room?" His eyes seemed to light up at that.
"Oh yes, Madam Black! Kreacher has been preparing it for you, with the help of Master Lupin. He is not a Black, but he is worthy; powerful! He teaches Kreacher to speak better for Masters!" At that, Narcissa looked up at Remus, a small amount of pride shining in her eyes.
"Did he now?" It was obviously a rhetorical question, but Kreacher answered it anyways.
"He did! Madam would be so proud!" Though she was clearly unsure of whether or not he was referring to her or his original master, she responded.
"I'm sure she would."
"I don't care if he knows how to talk. I don't like him! He kept sabotaging me when I tried to help with your room!" The indignant cry didn't go unnoticed by Remus.
"Kreacher is a fine Elf, Sirius. I'm sure you two could get along if you'd just try." But they wouldn't try. Remus was more sure of that then he was of anything else. Sirius's lip lifted in a sneer before the man turned away.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'm going for a walk." Then he stormed out. Remus shook his head but allowed the man to go. He knew how much being called a blood-traitor hurt the man. He also knew how much Sirius treasured the fact that Remus 'didn't' know. With a slightly strained smile, Remus turned back to Kreacher and the now-standing Narcissa.
"Well, Kreacher, lead the way." He pretended not to notice the way that the soon-to-be ex-Malfoy watched his every move.
(***Sirius Black***)
He didn't know why he had gotten so angry. Kreacher called him a blood-traitor all the time. He supposed he just wanted to make a good impression on Narcissa. It had been years since she had looked at him without the Malfoy fog, and he had been so excited to have his cousin back. Sirius let small droplets of rain begin to wash over him as his feet led the way to… to wherever. He didn't care at the moment.
"I expected to run into you soon, but this wasn't quite what I imagined." Sirius looked up and found himself mere inches from none other than Rodolphus Lestrange, or, more accurately, his chest. The Animagus tilted his head back a bit further to see the man's face. "So to what do I owe the pleasure of you coming to my home?" His home? Sirius glanced over at the houses around him, only figuring out which one belonged to Rodolphus by the Dark magic which flowed from it. So he was.
"I just… I'm not sure." It was an honest answer. He really didn't know why he had led himself here.
"Would you like to come in while you figure it out?" That was something he really had to think about. Did he want to go inside and risk his imagination running away with him, giving him non-existent hints at something deeper than friendship? As the rain finally began to chill his bones, Sirius nodded. Rodolphus's magic was comforting, ad he didn't want to leave it just yet.
"Thank you." He didn't know why he felt the need to be so polite around Rodolphus, but he did. He didn't want the man to think of him as- "Do you think I'm a blood-traitor?" It was important. He had to know. Rodolphus stopped and turned to him. The rain began to pour. He had to know. Time seemed to slow as the rain slowed its descent to the ground. Or perhaps it was going so fast that it seemed slow?
"I do." His world didn't crumble or screech to a stop, but it cracked. It slowed.
"Am I?" He had been saving himself; preserving the Black family line. That hadn't been his reasons at the time, but that was what they had transformed into. He had been scared about losing himself, and ran from his family. His brother was the only one he had actually wanted to save, but that hadn't worked. The boy had gone missing only a year after graduating Hogwarts. Sirius had been devastated. Did that make him a blood-traitor? Did he really betray his family; his brother? If he had said what he had been thinking and stayed, could he have save Regulus?
"You are." The words hit Sirius like the rain. Flowing. Pounding. Striking. Calming. Rodolphus didn't hate him for it. Remus didn't hate him for it. But he hated himself for it.
"Can you fix me?" Was he broken?
"I can." He could. Sirius stared into deep brown orbs. He could.
"How?" Rodolphus smiled a strange little half smile before leaning down and pressing his lips to Sirius's. Dark magic flowed through him, joining his own, both Light and Dark; mixing. But the Dark was overpowering the Light. It was a chaste kiss, but, somehow, it was the most intimate one he had ever experienced. A second later, it was over.
"I'll teach you." Sirius nodded, slightly numb but feeling more alive than ever. "First, go take a shower. We can't have you getting sick." Sirius did as he was told.
(***Rodolphus Lestrange***)
Rodolphus smirked at the ceiling as he heard the water running. He had kissed Sirius and gained access to the most beautiful, most Black magic he had ever had. It was much better than he had imagined, but his journey wasn't over yet. He had to make Sirius his and only his. The man wouldn't just be a quick fuck. No, Rodolphus would teach him, train him, and the younger man would learn how to take over his line. He just had to teach Sirius how to control his magic. As soon as that happened, he could take Sirius as his own. As soon as that was done, he would finally have the man who had caught his eye all the way back in Hogwarts all to himself.
The water stopped. Minutes passed. A crash resounded throughout the house. Another. Another. Rodolphus stayed put. It seemed that Bellatrix had made her appearance. Another. The crashes were getting closer. Another. Bellatrix's cackling laugh took to the air. Another. And then Bellatrix came tumbling down the steps, obviously stunned into submission. Sirius came down a second later in a towel. Rodolphus couldn't tear his eyes away. His body was strong and scarred from years of being an Auror, perfect and poised with water slipping down his strong jaw, across his shoulder, and halfway down his wand arm – which was still pointed at Bellatrix – before succumbing to gravity's mighty pull and falling to the floor.
"Merlin damn it, Bellatrix! If you ever talk about Harry like that again I'll-" It was at that point which Sirius seemed to take notice of Rodolphus. The anger dimmed. "Sorry about that, Rudy." The annoying nickname resurfaced, but it didn't sound nearly as joyful as usual. Still, whatever remorse he was feeling didn't stop him from kicking Bellatrix's motionless body on his way down. "I know it's asking a lot, but do you have any clothes I can borrow? Mine are soaked." He gave a half-grin, empty. Rodolphus frowned. Would he have to speed his plans along so much?
"I do." Rodolphus easily stepped over Bellatrix, ignoring the way her magic stank of Lucius, and made his way to the master bedroom. To his pleasure, Sirius followed. In a towel. Emphasis on the towel.
"So, Rudy, you really don't care that I hexed Bellatrix?" There was a surprised yet happy tint to his voice. He was coming back.
"I do not." Sirius's magic flexed at that, not unkindly.
"I take it she's with Lucius, away from you list of loyalties?" A well-phrased question which showed his upbringing slipped out of Sirius's mouth. Rodolphus couldn't rightly say that he wasn't pleased.
"Correct." Rodolphus walked into his bedroom and went straight to the closet. He knew from the Black's many years in Askaban that black and white suited him. So, going on that, he picked out black dress pants, his smallest white muscle shirt, and, for good measure, a grey jacket. It would go well with the man's eyes, Rodolphus was sure. Soon enough, he would have those stormy grey eyes glazed over with lusty pleasure while the Black begged for more. When Rodolphus finally emerged from the walk-in closet, he found Sirius asleep in the bed, towel still covering him, but just barely.
Perhaps it wouldn't be soon enough. Could Rodolphus really wait for Sirius knowing that he had the power to take the man at any moment? He brushed off the miniscule urge to sigh. He would have to. It was either that or lock Sirius in the basement as a sex slave for the rest of his life. As if hearing his thoughts, Sirius stirred slightly, making the towel lose its protective purposes. The second option was getting more appealing by the second.
Sirius didn't even realize what danger he was in. Rodolphus could pin him down and watch as his eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep. A quick snog would have Sirius giving in easily enough and then Rodolphus could fuck Sirius into the mattress for the rest of the night. Yet, that would only lead to the only reason he hadn't done it already: the morning after. Sirius would no doubt panic about the quick change in their relationship and hide himself away. That would only lead to Rodolphus putting Plan B into action and chaining Sirius to his bed forever. As appealing as that was, and believe him when he said that the idea was extremely appealing, he wanted a willing Sirius in his bed.
Still, he couldn't just let Sirius lay there naked in his bed for the world to see, could he? The clothes wrinkled in Rodolphus's tight grip. He wasn't foolish enough to think that he could hold back long enough to dress the man. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that he could lay his hands on Sirius's naked body without laying Sirius himself. So, with almost jerky movements, he sat the clothes on the dresser and covered Sirius with an extra blanket. This would be the first time that he would be sleeping in his own home, in a guest room. Sirius so owed him for this.
(***Hermione Granger***)
Hermione had looked everywhere. She had scoured the dungeons and searched the grounds. She had crouched and crawled through every crevice the castle had to offer, and then she remembered the Marauder's Map. The only problem? It was locked in Harry's trunk. His trunk didn't take keys like all the other trunks, but spells. He had told her once that it took certain spells in a certain order to open it. Now, perhaps Hermione knew Harry well enough to break that code, and she had told him such. His response had been that all of the spells were in Parseltongue. The only person which knew Parseltongue was someone she wasn't willing to go to. Not yet, anyways. That left her in her current predicament: standing in front of the doors to the Great Hall, trying to decide whether asking Blaise and Draco to break into Harry Potter's trunk would be a very Gryffindor thing to do. So far, she was in the negative. Really, he had never let her see what was in his trunk. He would die if they saw. He might die if they don't. That thought was the deciding factor which pushed Hermione into the Great Hall.
It turned out that she needn't have. They weren't there. People were milling about, eating, laughing, but the two men she was looking for weren't. With a scowl, she turned to leave. Where could they be?
"Snippets." Pansy Parkinson. Hermione opened her mouth to question what that meant, but the meaning quickly became clear. It was the password to the Slytherin common room. She stuck her nose in the air as Hermione's shock showed on her face. It wasn't as if Hermione didn't already know the password, since she was Head Girl and all, but it gave her the men's location. "I don't know what Blaise sees in you, but he does." Pansy was doing it for Blaise. For her friend. With a grateful smile, Hermione nodded.
"Thank you. That was very… Gryffindor of you." A sneer appeared on Pansy's features.
"Don't expect it to happen again." And then she walked off. Hermione went in the other direction, losing any doubt in Harry's judgment on the way. The common room was easy to reach, staying there was the problem. There were other Slytherins around. Still, she had to get in. It was time to take Harry's advice.
"We all have a little Slytherin in us, Hermione, and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, too. If you look close enough, I bet you'll see a tad bit of Gryffindor in the Slytherins as well." She had brushed it off as Harry being Harry back then, but Pansy had just proved her wrong. It was time to do the same. She took a deep breath. It was time to be a Slytherin.
"All of you clear out." She made her voice as sharp as she could, but the Slytherins weren't about to listen.
"Why the fuck should we? This is our territory, Gryffindork." It was true, but she had to be deceiving. She had to make up a plausible reason to go inside and have everyone else stay out.
"Because there are regular check-ups done during the year over the common rooms. Usually we just look to make sure that the common room and dorms aren't destroyed, but keep it up and who knows what I might find." A girl's eyes narrowed.
"You wouldn't." She dared Hermione.
"Try me." The glare darkened, but she didn't push. With a harrumph, she led the others away. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Then she saw deep brown eyes watching her skeptically.
"I don't remember getting that memo." Hermione smiled softly.
"Don't you?" Draco scoffed beside of him.
"I didn't think you had it in you, Granger." His voice held a secret humor that Hermione didn't feel like interpreting.
"Blaise, were you ever taught a way to open things, besides Alohamora?" He gave her a strange look. "I read about it in Zabinis Throughout the Ages a few years back. Look, I know how to find Harry." Two pairs of eyes exchanged glances.
"Fine." They spoke at the same time. For a moment, she waited for them to start tap dancing together. They probably knew how to do it. They followed her out of the room without an argument. The walk up to Gryffindor Tower was slow and quiet, but she didn't dare break the silence. She was already overstepping her boundaries by asking him to use a family secret. When they finally stepped inside – after a quick Lemon-Berry Sirens to the Fat Lady – lingering Gryffindors stared.
"We're doing a check-up on the common rooms. Scatter." Draco's words copied her own, but her house wasn't convinced. Multiple pairs of eyes looked to Hermione for reassurance. She gave a solemn nod, showing reluctance she didn't have about letting them in. The ever loyal lions accepted the excuse just like that and left. Sometimes she wondered if it were better to be in Slytherin. Gryffindors were so easy to fool. Harry wouldn't be. But Harry wasn't here.
"There's his dorm. It's the last bed on the left." Draco gave her a strange look, again, in synch with Blaise. "You need to unlock his trunk. I'm not a Zabini. It wouldn't be right for me to know your secrets." That got her a look even stranger than the first one. She rolled her eyes. "Look, just because I'm not a Pure Blood doesn't mean I'm not well-versed in your traditions. Now, go. And thank you." With another exchanged glance, a smirk from Blaise, and an off-put look from Draco, Blaise went into the dorm.
"I thought for sure you'd be dying to know how his secrets worked." Draco's voice was mocking.
"I am, but as much as I love knowledge, I respect privacy more. It's not my secret to know." And then came the question she was dreading.
"So, why can't you open the trunk?" Why couldn't she? Because it wasn't her secret to know either.
"He put spells around it in Parseltongue. The only people who could hope to open it are Harry and Voldemort, and Harry's missing and I'm crossing the line already by letting you and Blaise see into it, forget the Dark Lord." Yes, forget the Dark Lord. Forget the betrayal she was surely committing by letting them in, knowing full well that Voldemort could access their minds at any time. A moment passed in silence.
"He really is brilliant, you know." Shock flowed through Hermione at Draco's words.
"I thought you two…" She was unsure of how to phrase it.
"Rivals or not, it's a hard fact to miss. Sometimes, sometimes I wonder what the outcome of the war will be. We should win, what with our lack of morals and all, but there's always a chance." He stopped, apparently finding his explanation enough, but it wasn't enough. She didn't understand.
"A chance for what?" It was so confusing.
"A chance for redemption." She didn't understand.
(***Blaise Zabini***)
Blaise stared at the now open chest. He had never had to work so hard to open something. He had never expected Harry Potter to have such innocently dark spells protecting his possessions. He had never expected to see such innocently dark objects inside. Still, he could feel the power flowing through him from the spells and incantations. If one tried an Alohamora, there was an unknown blocking spell. Blaise had quickly rid the box of the simple protection. Past that it became more dangerous; more sinister. Blaise was glad Hermione had come to him for help. She would have died trying to open it. But what was more astounding? The outside or the in? Potions and books that the Ministry of Magic definitely wouldn't approve of were sitting neatly in the bottom of the wooden box, a cloak which only a fool wouldn't recognize had been folded into a precise square and sat on top of the objects. Blaise had peeled it back just as he had the layers of protection. But that was only half of it. There was a rolled up piece of parchment and a scrapbook – Harry's parents, Blaise assumed. They were next to a little black book with a hole dug into it which reeked of old blood. That and a Basilisk fang. How the hell did he get a hold of a Basilisk fang? Blaise knew for a fact that Basilisks, especially ones big enough to produce a fang that big, were strictly contraband. And by contraband, Blaise meant illegal. They could only be found in the darkest parts of the world, and even then it would be extremely hard to snatch a tooth. A pouch of money along with a few stones lined the side. The Zabini wasn't stupid enough to touch those.
"It's open." He said the words to an empty dorm, but he knew they heard. After all, he had heard everything they had been saying. Hermione raced up the steps and over to the trunk, quickly plucking the rolled up parchment of all things from the rectangular container. Barely sparing him or the now present Draco a glance, she unrolled it. He waited for a secret source of magic to burst up, or to see an encrypted spell to be scrawled onto it, but that wasn't the case. It was blank. Blank. All of that for a blank piece of paper? She quickly withdrew her wand and tapped the middle of the yellowed parchment.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Then before his eyes, ink soaked through the paper, forming an exact replica of Hogwarts' grounds. Little feet with names next to them walked around. Up in Gryffindor Tower, three pairs of feet sat perfectly still: Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy. He couldn't believe it. All this time, he thought Potter had been clueless about their meetings, about whether or not the Dark Lord was on the move, but he had it all right there. He could see it all.
"Can this move to other places?" Brown eyes glanced up from the paper, and her mouth parted slightly, but she didn't respond right away. A minute passed.
"It can, but only Harry knows how to do it." Of course. Damn Potter, always keeping the important things to himself. Her eyes raced over the parchment again and again, more and more frantic each time. "Where is he?" Her voice cracked at the last possible moment. She wanted to cry, obviously. She wanted to scream and rant and rave like a child, and it showed, but she restrained herself. She held her poise. "Why couldn't he be more like you two?" That got his attention, the calm way she said such strange words. "Why couldn't he stop caring about hurting the people who attack him and just tear them down? Why couldn't he just shed their blood and be done with it?" The shocking words were accompanied by tears, but whether they were of anger or sadness was unsure. As the paper crinkled in her tight grip, she raised her wand and tapped it once more. "Mischief managed." The intricate drawings faded away to nothing. Shakily, she rerolled the map and placed it back in its spot, replacing the Cloak of Invisibility as she did so. After that, the trunk was closed with a soft click. Suddenly, without warning, the wards were back up. Blaise was taken aback with the new intensity of it, stronger than before by far.
"Stay here." He knew what he had to do. Watery brown orbs rose to meet determined chocolate. No questions were asked. It was clear that she didn't know what he was planning, but Draco was another story. Silvery-grey eyes narrowed. Blaise ignored the silent warning. There was a burning in his chest that he couldn't ignore, one to stop the flow of salty water from his beloved's eyes. It had been ingrained in him years ago never to let a woman cry. He wouldn't go back on that. He would go see Voldemort. Fear crawled through his veins. He was going to show up at the Dark Lord's mansion uninvited, and ask for a favor, at that. It was unheard of. It was reckless. It was the plan.
(***Draco Malfoy***)
He wasn't sure why Blaise was so enamored with Granger, but he was. He was so completely in love with the woman that he was willing to risk the Dark Lord's wrath. It was insane. He walked out of the Gryffindor dorms, and the Mudblood didn't follow. Down, he walked, from the highest point in the castle to the lowest. Down, he walked to Severus Snape's chambers. He hadn't slept all night. For once, he didn't waltz in to feel the pleasure of Severus's skilled hands run over his body, but to sleep. He just wanted to sleep. The password slipped from his lips and he nearly stumbled into the large room. A familiar bed which smelled of soap and potions felt comforted his weary body. Mere seconds past before he was slumbering away.
(***Severus Snape***)
Severus wouldn't pretend that he wasn't shocked to see Draco asleep on his bed. After he, Granger, Blaise, and Potter had failed to show up to class, Severus figured that he would be avoiding the professor. Yet here he was, chest rising and falling as softly as the rain. Truly, it was a sight to see, platinum blonde hair splayed out on his pillow, lips parted in a silent invitation. He looked like a dream. With gentle fingers, Severus brushed a few strands of hair out of Draco's face. The teen really had no idea of the effect he had on Severus, the power he held over the elder man's head.
"You have no idea." No idea how much Severus craved him; needed him; loved him. "No idea at all." But that didn't mean Draco was off the hook. No, he and the others would be receiving quite the tongue lashing come tomorrow. The tips of his fingers brushed against the youngest Malfoy's jaw. Tomorrow. For today, he had to get back to class.
(***Ronald Weasley***)
Ron looked at Ginny sadly. She was so strong, acting as if she was over Harry's betrayal. He did the same thing when he could contain himself: pretend. But she didn't have to. She could confide in him.
"Ginny?" She turned from her lunch, a smile on her face.
"Yes, Ron? What is it?" She sounded so happy. It was ridiculous.
"I know what you're doing." For a split second, panic filled her features.
"I-I don't know what you mean." Her voice shook lightly as she tried to laugh it off.
"Of course you do. You're feeling betrayed by Harry and acting like you don't care, like you're happy, to cover it up." He lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear, and relief flushed her face. She was clearly glad that he understood. "I can help you get over him for a while, until he comes back. After all, I miss him, too." Sadness leaked into his voice, and green eyes connected with blue. Light green darkened with empathetic sorrow.
"Or maybe," she hesitated, "maybe I can help you." She sounded unsure and was making no sense. How could she help him? "Quick, come with me." She grabbed his wrist and yanked him away from his unfinished lunch. It was almost unsettling, the strength she shouldn't have had. He followed her out of the Great Hall, out of the castle, and out to the lake. She stepped into the water without removing her shoes, going only far enough for it to cover her ankles. "Step in." He blanched at the thought of going into the water. It was disgusting and there were things which could kill him!
"I don't think we should be—" She didn't let him finish that thought.
"You want Harry back, don't you?" A slow nod was his response. "Then step on in." He did. The murky water sank into the soles of his shoes, making him feel uncomfortable. Somehow, it made him feel unwanted. And then the water began to swirl, around and around, climbing up his form. The water slipped out of the worn leather, carrying him out of the lake and to… to somewhere. When he opened his eyes, Harry was in front of him, bound to a chair by thick chains. He didn't look happy.
"Hello, Hun! I missed you!" She rushed over to the young Savior and tossed her hands around his neck. His lip curled upward in distaste.
"You'd see me more if I were back in class." The words were soft and controlled, as usual.
"But then you'd be off getting yourself hurt, or worse: a girlfriend." Emerald orbs narrowed.
"It's better than me dying in here, isn't it? Ron, talk some sense into her." But Ron could only stare. She had kidnapped Harry. His sister. It wasn't possible. "Ron." The insistent syllable didn't help the red head's confusion.
"You won't die, Harry. I'll keep you alive forever." She slid into Harry's lap more seductively than his sister should have been able to do. "And you'll enjoy it. Ron, you agree with my decision, right? You know that this was the only way to get our Harry back." It was true, Ron had needed a way to get Harry away from the darkness, but this wasn't the plan! Ginny turned back towards Ron, missing the annoyance sparking in emerald orbs. But Ron saw it. He saw something that shouldn't be pushed. Avoiding the subject, Ron questioned the chains holding Harry down.
"Are you sure he can't escape?" Surely, he could. He was Harry Potter.
"Of course not. These chains were made by Rowena Ravenclaw herself." She toyed with the metal. "He'll never escape on his own." A small giggle followed her words, leaving Ron to choose between friends and family. But, overall, it was for the greater good, right? Wait, the greater good? That's it! Dumbledore would know what to do!
"We should be getting back to class." It was avoidance. Ginny's eyes widened in worry.
"You won't tell, will you? You'll keep this between us, won't you?" She was pleading with him, forcing his clear blue eyes to focus shyly on his feet.
"No." The promise was a quiet one, a lie. He would tell the only person who could help: Dumbledore. The Headmaster always had Harry's best interests at heart. She smiled as Harry frowned, and they left without another word.
(***Albus Dumbledore***)
Albus popped a lemon drop into his mouth as he felt Ronald's magical signature approaching his gargoyle. He needed something to cheer him up, and what was better than news about Harry? Just before Ron could knock, Dumbledore spoke.
"Enter, my boy. I've been waiting for you." His voice was jovial, hiding his obvious lie. Ronald gave a nervous laugh as he entered.
"You have? Well, of course you have. You know everything, right? Stupid question. Um, I just wanted to ask you about something." So eager to please, Ronald was.
"Ask away, my boy." He was prepared for anything.
"Um, well, Ginny kind of… She kidnapped Harry and then we went through the lake and then he was chained up and I wanted to help him, but he's away from the Dark side now, so that's a good thing, right? And well, I just don't know what to do!" The breaths taken during his confession were few and far in between, causing Dumbledore to chuckle. He certainly hadn't been expecting such news, but he couldn't say it was a bad thing. Ginny was truly harmless, so there was no rush, but perhaps Harry should stay for a bit longer. The more broken he was, the easier he would be for Albus to fix up. And it would be a fix that Albus approved of, too.
"Just leave it to me, Ronald. I'll fix everything." Hope flashed in blue orbs.
"You will?" Of course he would.
"I will." When the time was right.
(***Tom Riddle***)
Tom was used to keeping his emotions under lock and key. It was rare that Tom felt anything other than light annoyance, cold satisfaction, or simple neutrality. Well, that's how it went until Harry Potter came along. Lust and frustration had been added to the list at that point. Now, after learning that his newest toy had been confiscated by some unworthy fool, fury wrote itself on as well. He hadn't even bothered to do anything other than dismiss Zabini. Depending on the state which he was going to find Harry in, the boy would either be severely punished or rewarded grandly. If he could only pinpoint Harry's location. Tom felt his magic pulse heatedly at the thought of not finding Harry. He had been probing the connection between them for the past few hours – ever since he found out – but nothing had come of it as of yet. The fact that even in such a time of crisis, Harry wouldn't surrender to him only made him more irate. Why couldn't he just surrender like a good little boy?
"Fuck." The word felt good on his lips, a bit of control slipping away like it always did where Harry was concerned. He had to reach the boy. Without pause, Tom pushed a large portion of his magic at the connection. Even against Harry's shields, some trickled through. That was more than most could have hoped for, but it was nowhere near enough for the Dark Lord. He had to find Harry. He had to taste the boy on his lips once more; the magic on his core. He craved it like nothing else. His breathing lightened considerably as a slight bit of Harry's magic slipped through the small hole he had created before closing again. Harry was his drug, but he could control the addiction. He could control Harry. All he had to do was make his green eyed tempter see that, too. And he would. When the magic stopped, his breath constricted once more, leaving him taking uncomfortably small breaths. It was unfair, how much leverage the young man had over him. That would change soon, though. Soon, it would be Harry who would do anything to get close to him: a sniveling dog. And then Tom would tire of him and all would be well. His magic pulsed more erratically than before. He had to get to Harry first. Again, he pressed against the barrier, but this time it didn't budge. This time, Harry had reinforced his fields.
"Fuck." As soon as Tom succeeded in saving Harry from an untimely death, the Dark Lord was going to kill him.
(***Harry Potter***)
Voldemort didn't nudge the barrier between their minds, he slung at it with a sledge hammer on steroids. Really, it was tempting to let him through, but that would be acknowledging defeat. He couldn't let Voldemort think that he had forgiven him; that he belonged to the egocentric Dark Lord.
"Harry, why won't you just admit that you love me?" Ginny again. He had wondered when she would be back.
"Because I don't." He was fairly hungry though.
"But you do! You love me more than anything else in the world, and you know it!" He did? Really, it always seemed that people knew so much more about him than he did.
"I'm actually quite fond of Quidditch." A wondrous sport, that it was. Ginny, apparently, didn't share his sentiments.
"Screw Quidditch! You love me!" Right, no.
"Not really. Look, Ginny, you're a sweet girl, but-" He paused as a wand was pressed to his throat.
"But nothing. You love me." Really, he didn't think that was it.
"But I just don't think we're right for each other. It's not you. It's me." The words only seemed to make her angrier, which didn't make sense because I was the truth. He just wasn't the right person to make her happy.
"Crucio." Now that, Harry could honestly say he hadn't been expecting. Pain raced through him, though not nearly as much as when Voldemort cast it. Voldemort. Tom. Why did it always come back to him? Harry sat perfectly still through the torture, unwilling to give in at such a minor annoyance. That's when it happened: the chains began to burn. By the way that Ginny sat on top of him, unaffected, he knew that they weren't actually burning, but damn if it didn't feel like it. Tom's Dark magic pulsed in the back of his mind, begging for the barrier to fall. As the burning grew hotter, Harry gave in. The barrier crashed down, leaving Harry to gasp under the sheer force of Voldemort's magic. He had never imagined such pleasure was possible. Ginny seemed to take it as a reaction to her, but that wasn't the case. It could never be the case. She just wasn't that good.
(***Tom Riddle***)
Tom couldn't help the triumphant smirk which curled onto his lips as Harry's magic fell upon him in gentle yet nearly destructive waves. He could feel the beauty of it already. He could feel the pleasure flowing through Harry just as much as he could feel the pain. His smirk widened. Perhaps the pain of it would help the boy learn his place. Swiftly, The Dark Lord allowed Harry's magic to carry him back to its source. He wasn't disappointed. He was, however, angry. Ginny straddled the young Savior's lap while staring at him like her next meal. She couldn't do that. Harry was his next meal.
"Remove yourself." She whipped around, eyes wide with something between terror and awe. When her surprised orbs laid themselves in him, desire entered into the equation. It was a common reaction, but that only kept his eye for a moment. No, it was the startling emeralds which floored him upon contact. They were hooded yet attentive through a haze of pleasure, much like Tom imagined they would be after a night of rough shagging. Upon seeing Tom, the lids closed fully and Harry adopted a look which could only be described as 'Damn-everything-to-Hell-and-back.' When they opened once more they were bored, resentful, and lightly impatient. It didn't look as if Harry was in a very pleasant mood.
"Who are you?" It was pathetic the way that ten seconds passed and she was groveling already. He wished Harry would do that.
"Guess." The word was snarled softly before Tom shot a burst of pure magic at the girl, watching with sadistic glee as it pierced her magical core. She screamed, of course, as her life was slowly drained away, and for that Tom was glad. As much as he would love to stay and watch her die, and he really would, Tom had better things – Harry – to do. Two long strides carried Tom over to Harry's side.
"Voldemort." Obviously, Harry was making his guess. With a smirk, Tom leaned down and held Harry's chin between his forefinger and his thumb, an iron grip forcing emeralds to stare into rubies.
"Coming from you, I prefer Tom." Only Harry.
Only Harry.