Author's Note: We all know that Harry and Tom are very closely matched. For you lovelies that read the Author's note, I'm willing to give a prize. Put in a review telling me whether when it comes down to it, Tom or Harry should be stronger. This, contrary to popular belief, isn't a cry for reviews. If you don't feel like saying anything about the story, just put Harry or Tom and send it in. I need a victor.
Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter just about as much as I own Pluto.
Warning: Language. Violence. Slash. Non-slash. (Male/Female)
(***Tom Riddle***)
Tom easily broke the chains tying Harry down before grabbing the front of the younger male's robes and smashing their lips together. The taste of nothing; of Harry; of life flooded him once more as Harry gasped. Tom slipped his tongue inside as the younger man's phenomenal magic flushed against him, clearly against its master's will. His magic wanted Tom just as much as Tom wanted his magic. The Dark Lord easily pushed them through his Dark magic and back to his chamber, never breaking the kiss. It wasn't even a kiss, really, but a sacrifice. Tom was devouring him like the innocent little lamb that he was, slipping his right hand around from the front of Harry's shirt to the back of his neck to ensure that the boy couldn't pull away and his left down to the edge of the shirt beneath the robes. Traitorous things, robes were. They should be burned. Or at least removed from the possession of Harry Potter.
A quiet moan slipped up Harry's throat, and Tom drank that down as well, feeling his lips slip into a smirk in the process. He had more experience than the little virgin could resist. Yes, he would have the savior moaning his name in no time. Without warning, Harry reeled back into Tom's now relaxed hand, gasping for air. The Dark Lord tightened the grip on his nemesis's neck and forced them back together. The intense look of lust mixed with light confusion had been too much. He had his drug back, and he intended to get his fix before attempting control once more. After another moment, Harry tentatively responded, tongue innocuously trying to jump into the fray. That had Tom groaning, strangely enough: not the magic, but the quiet shyness in which Harry was slowly giving in. Without a second thought, he swung them away from the wall, crimson orbs watching Harry intensely throughout the kiss. Emeralds which had been covered by thin layers of skin snapped open as Tom easily ripped Harry off of him – effectively breaking the kiss – and tossed him onto the bed. The younger male was so light.
"Wha-" The slightly slurred word wasn't finished as Tom was on top of Harry once more, lips cutting him off without a second thought. This time, Harry kissed back more fiercely. A smaller, less devious smirk drew itself on Tom's lips. It was cute, the way that Harry thought he could win. Without mercy, Tom began to fight back and mere seconds passed before he was dominating the kiss once more. Suddenly, the pure, whimsical magic of harry vanished. He still tasted like air and water personified, but it wasn't the same. It was only a component of his drug. The immortal man pulled back with a snarl. Determined green eyes stared back at him.
"I don't belong to you." There were those words again; the stupid, selfish words of a delusional child. The boy was resisting; evading; trying to prove a lie. Harry was his. But if that was true then why couldn't Tom just force him to bring his magic back out? Why did the Potter keep taunting him with his sinfully beautiful magic? It couldn't be that Harry didn't belong to him. Harry did belong to him, just not yet. Long moments passed in silence, only Harry's heavy breathing trying its best to even out stopping Tom from thinking that Time had halted completely.
"You are not my equal." No one was his equal. Green and red battled for dominance, a battle which was not so easily won. Finally, feverishly, they reached a truce. Tom's lips crashed back onto Harry's as the young man's magic slipped out once more. Their tongues clashed along with their magic as the two opposing forces swirled around them. Neither of them would get what they wanted. The Dark Lord gained dominance in the kiss with ease. Not yet. Harry moaned under him and Tom's magic flowed a little faster. Its Light counterpart followed suit. That was when the crimson eyed male first noticed it: Harry's magical core. Tom was immortal because his core had been completely filled with Dark magic and overflowed to the seams which kept him together. Harry Potter's core, it was almost to that point. He was extremely close to joining Tom in immortality. At that, Tom froze, jerking back just enough so that their lips weren't touching. Hazy emeralds were uncovered, and Tom found himself caught, for a euphoric moment, in the eyes of an angel. He was drowning in a sea of green, unable to pull away from such perfectly innocent orbs.
But the moment passed, and oxygen filled his lungs once again. Harry was nothing more than a pawn; something to use as he pleased and throw away afterwards. Tom couldn't throw the boy away if he was immortal. Cunning crimson narrowed as Harry started to regain his senses. But he could do this. He could fell the younger male's magic rolling over him for the rest of eternity while they just lay there: breathing each other's air. Finally, green narrowed as well, though more incredulously than anything else. It was impossible. If Harry found out that he was going to be immortal as well, if he found out that they would, magically, be on equal grounds, the young man would never submit to him. And that was something he just couldn't risk. Decision made, Tom placed one more kiss on the still trembling lips beneath him. In the end, Harry was just one drug he would have to do without.
(***Albus Dumbledore***)
It wasn't the lifeless girl lying on the floor which made the twinkle leave light blue orbs, but the empty chair beside of her. Harry Potter was gone. This just wouldn't do.
"Ginny! Ginny, no! You can't be gone, c'mon! Wake up, Ginny!" Ronald Weasley's sobs didn't help his thinking process at all. He should have left the boy up at the castle. Another choked sob escaped the tall, gangly red head. Or perhaps he shouldn't have.
"There is a way to save her, my boy." In reality, there was nothing. Dead was dead. But Ronald didn't know that.
"What? How? I'll do anything!" Ronald was cradling his sister's lifeless form like the most precious of porcelain dolls, and Albus blessed his soul. It was heartbreaking, but sacrifices had to be made. Time was running out.
"You have to get me the one who killed her. If I remove the assailant's magical core, she can be brought back." Lies. It was all lies, but they were necessary. Soon, maybe mere days from now, Harry's magical core would reach completion. Albus had to remove and consume it before then. If he did, it would restore his youth and he would go on under a different alias, just as he had all the other times. Albus would go down in history yet again, and a new leader – he – would arise and fight for the Greater Good, just as he had when he had been Merlin. Just as he would again. All he needed was Harry's core.
"Who did it?" The shaky words were unabashedly loyal. Albus granted him a rare, true smile.
"Who do you think, my boy?" A singly, wrinkled hand motioned to the chair which he was sure the Savior of the Wizarding World had been chained to.
"Harry." The name was said with such conviction that Albus was sure that his plan would pull through yet. The Greater Good would prevail, no matter the costs. With a light twinkle in his eyes, Albus thought of the little boy which Harry had been visiting at the orphanage every summer. No matter the costs.
(***Sirius Black***)
Sirius didn't remember his bed being this comfortable. Stormy grey eyes opened, still dazed from sleep. He also didn't remember his room being filled with different shades of grey. Confused orbs blinked out of sight for a split second. He didn't remember it being so because his room wasn't done in shades of grey, but blue. Odd. Once more, thin, fleshy lids covered Sirius's eyes. When they opened again, shock was the main component of the storm.
"Shit!" If Remus had been there, Sirius would have been berated for using such language, but Remus wasn't there. He was at Rodolphus's house. In Rodolphus's bed. Naked. Damn it all to hell. Quickly spotting the clothes on the dresser, Sirius sprung off of the bed and yanked on the appropriate pieces of cloth. They smelled like Rodolphus. The room smelled like Rodolphus. He smelled like Rodolphus. If this was God's idea of a joke, Sirius wasn't laughing. He raced out of the room after putting the too-big clothes on and ended up in the library before he could really register where he intended to go. Rodolphus sat calmly on his usual chair, book in hand. How could the man look so scrupulous, even in such a terrible situation?
"Good evening." Evening? Remus was going to murder him.
"Um, hi. Look, I'm sorry about coming here and hexing Bellatrix and taking your bed and everything, but what happened last night?" He remembered everything, but none of it could be right. Rodolphus wouldn't kiss him. It was preposterous.
"It depends." Grey eyes narrowed as Rodolphus responded without looking up.
"It does not depend! If something happened, it happened, if it didn't, it didn't! That's it!" Surely, it wasn't a kiss that had Sirius yearning to pick up a book of hexes and curses.
"It depends on what 'something' is." And that's when Sirius caught on. Rodolphus was mocking him.
"Rudy!" Chocolate brown orbs stayed focused on the page.
"Sirius." Perhaps that was what the elder Pureblood didn't realize: that Sirius wasn't a play-toy. He wasn't someone to be mocked.
"Did we fucking kiss or not?" The question came out less controlled than Sirius had hoped, but the small smirk playing on Rodolphus's lips told Sirius that the man had been expecting as much.
"We did." The response was as calmly amused as the man who spoke it, and it was with unintended breaths that Sirius asked his next question.
"Then why the hell are you still over there?" That hadn't been the inquiry that the Animagus had been going for, but it got Rodolphus to look up. Their eyes connected. For one breathless moment, Sirius thought that Rodolphus was going to waltz over and given him the X-rated version of last night's kiss, but that passed and the elder man was still sitting down in a chair across the room. "Rudy?" Moments passed in silence.
"If he doesn't kill me first, I promise I'll finish fixing you." The quiet promise made Sirius blink. What? Slowly, Rodolphus shut his book, an answer sitting patiently on his lips. "You're a distraction, Sirius. I played the part of the fool perfectly and got distracted. Bellatrix is gone." At that, all of Sirius's Auror training kicked in. Why hadn't he said that in the first place?
(***Bellatrix Lestrange***)
Bellatrix grinned wildly as she looked at the outside world without a magical leash around her throat. Rodolphus had been strict with her, just as her Lord had ordered him to be, but that didn't make her like it any more. It wasn't her Lord's magic which constricted her, so there was no reason to enjoy the restriction. Besides, she was sure that the only reason he hadn't brought her back to his bed was that she wasn't powerful enough. But now she was. Now she had Lucius's magic. Well, she had half of it. Just as Lucius held half of her magic. All she had to do was initiate a kiss with the man and all of their combined powers would become hers. The incantation had already been put in place during their quick bout of sex. He would die as she drained his magical core, for sure. After all, there was no reason for Lucius to want to kiss her. She just had to find the Malfoy once more. Rodolphus would never leave them alone together again, so she had no other choice but to escape. And her idiot cousin had played right into it. She wasn't sure why such a near-perfect Pureblood like Rodolphus was so enamored with the blood-traitor, of all people, but he was.
That was all Bellatrix had needed. At noon, she had left, knowing that Rodolphus was focusing on nothing more than her cousin's magical signature. Soon, she would be able to do that as well, and her Lord would be pleased. Oh, how her Lord would be pleased. First, though, she had to gather some supplies. After that, well, who knew? Perhaps she would get lucky and the Dark Lord would call a surprise meeting tonight, and she would get to put her plan into motion early. But first she needed those ingredients. And Severus Snape, whether he liked it or not.
(***Severus Snape***)
Severus stared at the vile of potion in his hands. It had been made by Harry Potter not so long ago, and it still amazed him. Never would Severus be able to produce the silvery liquid on his own. In o fact, the only other known sample of it was made by Merlin himself all those years ago, and it was kept under lock and key. Yet he had some, too. Voldemort and he. The Dark Lord had taken most of it, but the man had left him a vile. An entire vile. It didn't seem like much, but it was more than Severus could ever have asked for. The point of the potion was simple really: health. It could heal a person of cancer or Aids or even regrow a vital organ in seconds. No other potion was like it, but it took a lot. It took a vile to save a life. Exactly one vile; no more, no less. He had one vile. He had one life. It didn't matter that the Dark Lord had a dozen at his disposal because Severus had one. He only needed one.
"I will have my family." The spell hit him before the words. Severus assumed he had been Stupefied, but he couldn't be sure. As the glass vile rolled away, luckily unbroken, Severus glared. At least, he would have glared if he could move his eyelids. He would also be grounding out the word Lucius and hexing the man into oblivion. Since he could do none of that he settled for staring pointedly at the edge of the vile out of his peripheral vision. At least the blonde wasn't smart enough to realize just how valuable the potion was. A silent spell had him floating off of the ground, enough to see both Lucius's smirk and, more surprisingly, potion ingredients. What he didn't see was the letter Lucius sat on the table behind him, the Malfoy Crest proudly gluing the envelope shut.
(***Remus Lupin***)
Remus couldn't remember being this happy since the day his friends had accepted him back at Hogwarts. Narcissa was just as charming in person as she was from afar. All day they had been chatting as if they were old friends catching up after Christmas vacation. He barely registered that Sirius had never returned from his walk. And by barely, Remus meant that every moment not spent ogling Narcissa's almost otherworldly grace was spent either checking the time or glancing nervously at the door. A fair amount of time was spent on each task.
"You're really worried about him, aren't you?" Remus blinked before looking back over at Narcissa's soft features. She looked so much more delicate without the Malfoy mask in place. If only she would shed the Black Family mask as well and show a smile or two.
"Is it really that obvious?" Her eyes asked if he really wanted her to answer the question, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll take that as a yes. It's just that he's never stayed out so long without telling me. And he's still a wanted man. I'm just overreacting, I suppose." Remus tried to brush it off as nothing, but his heart beat faster at the thought of his best friend getting sent to Askaban yet again. The man didn't deserve such suffering.
"Would you like to go look for him? I'm not sure how much his tastes have changed, but if he anything like the boy I used to know, he's probably gotten himself in quite a bit of trouble by now." Remus smiled at that. Sirius did have a knack for getting into trouble. Misfortune just followed Sirius at the heels, much like it did Harry.
"Would you mind?" Making her search the city for Sirius hadn't been what Remus had wanted to do that day. She smiled, though wearily, and looked more contemplative than he had even seen it before.
"He is my cousin, Remus. I can't exactly refuse." She didn't sound against it, but she wasn't exactly jumping to look for him, either.
"You don't have to go with me, Narcissa." He would never force her to do anything. A moment passed before she stood, a look of raw determination on her face.
"I want to help you find him, but do you mind if we take a detour first?" Remus cocked a brow at the odd question.
"To where?" It wasn't a testing question, but a curious one.
"Hogwarts." And then everything made sense again. She wanted to get to Draco before Lucius did.
"Of course." She looked grateful as he agreed to her request, but it wasn't really a matter of how much he liked her, but of who they were looking for. Sirius was a grown man. He could take care of himself. Draco, however, well… He was no Harry Potter.
(***Hermione Granger***)
"Blaise, why are you so fidgety?" The young man hadn't sat still for hours now. The Slytherin Common Room had cleared out, courtesy of a barked order from Draco, and the three friends – if they could be called that – had sat down to talk. Only they hadn't said a word. Blaise had stood up and began to pace, glancing at his right forearm every few minutes.
"I told the Dark Lord about Potter's predicament." Her eyes widened, not wanting to believe that Harry was possibly at the wrath of Voldemort that very moment. "He just sent me away." It was at that point which Draco strutted into the conversation.
"What do you mean he just sent you away? He either punished you or rewarded you! That's what he does!" The Malfoy said it almost as if his vision of the Dark Lord was taking a blow, as if his own pride was taking a blow.
"He sent me away. I told him that Potter was missing and then he dismissed me. You don't think I was freaked out by the lack of reaction? I could rest easily knowing that I shouldn't have done it or that it was the right choice. But standing here doing nothing? It's like I'm waiting for the verdict on whether I'll be sentenced to life in Askaban or not!" A slow panic rose in his voice, making Hermione cringe a little. She should be used to whirling emotions, what with being the best friend of Harry Potter and all, but Harry had never really shared his turmoil. He had always sheltered her from the darker things conspiring in his life; protected her from what he didn't believe she could handle. And while she resented him for not trusting her, she understood. Harry had been forced to grow up much too fast, and had been able to handle so much more than she previously liked to believe she could.
"I think it's because Harry's not like other people." Silver and brown eyes swung over to meet her, demanding an explanation. "Well, he won't bow to Voldemort's will. He can't be forced into submission, either. He's around the same level as your Dark Lord, actually. If anything, I think he's enjoying the challenge Harry is presenting, as horrible as it sounds. I think he didn't know how to react when you said that Harry was gone because somehow, in his head, he considers Harry his challenge. And yes, I have thought about this before. If I'm going to be a Psychologist, I have to be able to delve into all sorts of minds." She went ahead and answered the second question before it was asked. It was bound to come.
"Don't kid yourself, Granger. There's no way Potter is anywhere near as powerful as the Dark Lord." There was neither a lack of confidence nor assurance in Malfoy's words. Hermione, not to be outdone, scoffed at him. Perhaps she really had been spending too much time with the Slytherins after all. At this rate, she'd be casting hexes at people for no reason at all.
"Voldemort may be older, he may be stronger, he may be faster, but the only reason that he could ever hope to beat Harry is because Harry's kinder, more loving, and he's willing to do absolutely anything for anyone, no matter who they are! Your Dark Lord could never even dream of being so great." Never. Never could anyone be so wonderful as Harry.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but Draco has a point. Heart doesn't get you anywhere in this world." Blaise's Italian accent bled through to his voice more thickly than usual, unconsciously showing that he meant what he was saying. She could hardly believe her ears. Were Purebloods really so brainwashed that they didn't think heart had to do with anything? It was a near-heartbreaking revelation.
"Neither does staying up all night when there's a Quidditch match to be played tomorrow." A deep voice that Hermione just barely recognized rang throughout the nearly empty room. Hermione spun around to see Jackary standing in the doorway. "Potter will be back tomorrow, so stop moping around and keeping the rest of us awake." She knew it was best not to push him, knew by the danger lurking behind seemingly bored, dark blue orbs. Well, her Gryffindor courage had never failed her before.
"Us?" Just how many people were listening in?
"Adrian and I. He's waiting for you in the Gryffindor common room right now. Personally, I don't like having Adrian off-guard in times like these. Just so, I don't feel like losing terribly to the Gryffindors simply because you couldn't stand getting to sleep in time for curfew." That was definitely the most she had ever heard the usually silent Slytherin say not only in one sitting, but ever.
"He'll be back tomorrow?" Midnight blue, nearly violet eyes pierced worried chocolate, almost as if inquiring if she had really just asked such a stupid question. Somehow, that was enough. "Then I'll tell Adrian that he doesn't have to worry." The man's expression didn't change, but his eyes flashed, as if in warning. She had better tell Adrian, that was what Jackary was saying. It wasn't even a threat, really, but the only Mudblood in the room found she felt safer taking it as such. No other words were spoken, and Hermione took the dense silence as her cue to leave. "See you tomorrow." And with a quick kiss to Blaise's cheek, still unsure of what, exactly, they were, Hermione rushed out the door. Something was off about Salem, and for once, she didn't want to know what it was.
(***Draco Malfoy***)
Draco didn't take his eyes off of Salem, even as the Mudblood rushed out of the Slytherin common room. He just wasn't someone that you turned your back on. Draco couldn't keep that philosophy as a flaring pain shot up his arm. It was stronger than usual, more commanding. Draco knew that there was no time to waste. With a glare in Salem's direction, Draco focused on his Dark Mark, knowing that it would take him wherever the Dark Lord wanted him to be. This was bad. Voldemort had told Blaise to have Potter willing to go to the next meeting, and Potter was still missing. If Blaise really hadn't gotten punished before, he was sure to be now. Damn it all.
Still, Draco couldn't help but remember the condescendingly blank look that Salem had given him as he disappeared. It wasn't fair. He wasn't better. He wasn't worth more than Draco. After all, Draco was a Malfoy, and no one was worth more than a Malfoy, except maybe a Riddle. Or, as much as he hated to admit it, a Potter. And he did hate to admit it, but at least the emerald orbs had never looked at him with such disinterest, as if he wasn't worth the dirt he walked on. It made him feel like he didn't know anything. His feet hit the ground with grace that he held only through years and years of practice. The rest of the Deatheaters were gathered around, seeming slightly unsure of what to do with all of their colleagues unmasked. Sure, they knew who was who, but they weren't used to seeing faces when it came to Deatheater business, only cold, lifeless masks proclaiming rank. Draco was only partially perturbed by the change in atmosphere as he stood in his usual spot and looked around. The Dark Lord hadn't arrived yet. More importantly, Severus hadn't arrived yet. The Potions Master was usually the first on the scene. The absence of his father and Bellatrix only heightened Draco's sense of alert. This wasn't good.
Draco's knees hit the floor without his consent as The Dark Lord's presence filled the overly large room. He barely noticed; mind still stuck on the three people not in attendance. Where could they be? Where could Severus be?
"Don't look so apprehensive, my loyal followers. We appear to have guests." Voldemort's voice was as smooth as sin, and Draco barely heard it. Guests? And that was when he spotted them: Remus Lupin standing next to his mother, Sirius Black beside Rodolphus Lestrange, and, up at the front… Fuck.
"Potter." Draco couldn't stop the name from slipping out of his mouth. It was impossible.
"We have three guests, almost as if to replace three who aren't here." There was a dark sort of humor in the man's voice, arousing Draco's darker interests. It almost felt as if the Dark Lord was looking at him. He knew that he shouldn't do it, but Draco risked a glance up. He didn't raise his head, only his eyes, and they met crimson the instant he did. Deep, crimson pools sparkled with something Draco couldn't identify. "The three who don't appear to be joining us anytime soon." Draco's eyes darted back down to the ground as he stiffened. Why wouldn't Severus be coming? He was always there! He was the Dark Lord's left hand! Suddenly, a loud crack alerted him of a newcomer. The young Malfoy didn't dare look up again. He was lucky he wasn't under the Cruciatus curse for the first glance.
"My Lord! Lucius, he has taken Severus! I found this in Severus's classroom!" Bellatrix's panicked yet still less-than-sane voice rang throughout the meeting hall. Draco couldn't tell whether the beating of his heart sped up immensely or slowed to a stop. Though he wanted to look up, he didn't think he could. What had Bellatrix found? There was a momentary pause until the Dark Lord's voice entered into the equation again.
"Dear Draco, the family will be together again. Your father, Lucius. Interesting." This time, Draco couldn't stop himself from raising his head. Voldemort was looking straight at him, almost as if waiting for him to do so. Emerald orbs didn't escape Draco's line of vision either. "It seems that Lucius didn't approve of my decision." His father had Severus? But Severus was a better dueler, was more powerful, wasn't he? Lucius must have caught the Potions Master off guard. It was the only way; a way that didn't bode well for either Severus or Draco. Lucius Malfoy had no morals. There was no guarantee that the professor would get out alive, or was still alive now, even. "No matter. They're expendable." Expendable? Severus? Draco was on his feet before he could register what he was doing. Bellatrix's wand in front of his face stopped him from going any farther.
"You are not to show such disrespect in front of the Dark Lord!" Draco went for his own wand in response, but Potter beat him to it.
"I came here for a duel with Tom, not to watch you come in here pretending to care about Snape when it's obvious all you want is to finish taking the rest of Lucius's magic." Tom? Who the hell was Tom? And what did he mean the rest of Lucius's magic? What was going on? "I've never cared much for Malfoy," and somehow Draco knew that Potter was speaking about his father, "but my Potions grade depends on Snape, so he's not exactly as dependable as some idiots would like to think." Draco waited for Potter to fall to the ground in pain for insulting the Dark Lord, but glancing away from the two people standing in front of him and to the gorgeous man on the thrown, he only saw amusement sparking in crimson pools. In a spilt second, Draco took another glance around to see everyone else still on the ground with their heads down. The only people standing were Potter, Bellatrix, Lupin, Black, and him.
"You fool! The Dark Lord will kill you! He has more power in a single strand of hair than you could ever hope to have!" Something strange, something cold, something dark flitted into emerald orbs.
"That may be so, but there are some things that he's a bit off about, like how to deal with defiance for instance." Draco's eyes widened. Potter was going to torture? "He inflicts pain, but pain fades. Sure, it leaves a lingering amount of fear, but that's it. If that's how you want to warn someone, then you don't need the pain, only the fear. But how do you inflict fear, I wonder?" The question was rhetorical, and Draco stood frozen in his place, unsure of what was to come next. "Tell me, Bellatrix, what do purebloods despise the most?" This time, it was obvious that the green-eyed male wanted an answer.
"Muggles." Draco answered for Bellatrix as it became obvious that she wasn't going to.
"Correct. And do you know what makes a muggle a muggle?" This time, Draco didn't open his mouth. "Their lack of contact with their magical cores." And then Bellatrix crashed to the floor, gasping for breath. Potter put away his wand slowly but not hesitantly. "So if you cut off a wizard's or witch's access to his or her magical core, they become a…" A muggle. "Correct again." Had he said that aloud? Apparently so. If Draco hadn't been wary of Potter before, he certainly was now. "And being a muggle after experiencing magic makes you feel weak, defenseless," Potter knelt down, strange look still lingering in his eyes, "pathetic, doesn't it?" Shaky breaths that sounded almost, faintly, like sobs fell from Bellatrix's lips as she lay on the floor, unresponsive to Potter's questions. Gently, the only remaining Potter threaded his hand into Bellatrix's messy black hair and lifted her head. His other hand softly wiped a tear from under her eye. "Doesn't it?" The inquiry was barely above a whisper, and a flash of fear flared in Draco. Potter was kind and cruel at the same time: too nice to harm and too powerful to disregard. He could always count on the Dark Lord to resort to unimaginable amounts of pain, but there was no telling what Potter would do.
Slowly, Bellatrix nodded. "Yes." The word held more submissive obedience in it than Draco had ever heard before. The tears and pain could be heard as well, making Draco decide then and there that he never wanted to experience being a muggle.
"Good." She gasped again, but this time it wasn't out of shock or pain. Obviously, he had unlocked her magical core. "Next time you won't get it back." Emeralds turned toward Draco, shining as warmly as ever. "Be careful." Draco took that as his cue to leave and turned to rush out of the meeting area. The Dark Lord's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Is he really so important that you're willing to miss the naming of my protégé?" The not so subtle hint made Draco blink. This was his chance. Voldemort wanted him as his protégé. If he left, that chance would disappear. This was it. This was what he had been waiting for: his chance at the Dark Lord. But was it worth losing Severus? After all, the elder male was just a fuck buddy. He was just someone to take his frustrations out on, to talk to. He was just someone Draco could turn to in hard times, and someone to joke with in the bad. Severus was just—just – just his everything. How could he have not realized this sooner? Without a second thought Draco sprinted out of the meeting area, using apparition as soon as it was physically possible. He landed just outside of Hogwarts's apparition zone. Draco could only hope that Severus was still in the building because if his father had taken the Potions Master elsewhere, there was almost no chance of finding them.
(***Lucius Malfoy***)
Lucius looked at the potion the he had brewed under the watch of Severus under Veritaserum. It had taken a bit, but he had figured out what the catch was to Bellatrix's magic exchange. Now all he had to do was drink the potion and kiss Bellatrix. And kill the Dark Lord. His family would come together as one and Malfoys would reign supreme. That much, he would make sure of. Severus Snape hung on the wall across from him, glaring silently. Lucius didn't mind. It was almost time for a Malfoy family reunion. A small hiss escaped his lips as his right forearm burned, but he ignored that. The Dark Lord would have to wait. For only a little bit longer, the Dark Lord would have to wait. And then Lucius would get him as well. It was all a matter of time.