Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I'm only a fan writing for pure entertainment and do not mean to gain any sort of profit from this.
Warnings: SLASH LV/HP
Chapter 5
Then darkness... Harry was falling. Somewhere, someone was reaching out to him with a cry... and then he knew no more.
He was floating, weightless and unsupported. Disembodied voices called to him but it was as though his mind had forgotten how to comprehend, had become a mind like that of a new-born babe. He saw many a colours and flashes of visions but he recognized none. He was content, yes. To be floating in nothingness, no weight on his shoulders, no responsibilities and none of that underlying guilt or pain.
How nice it would be to just stay in such a way forever... but perhaps, it would be a little lonely. More than just a little lonely, maybe. With nothing to act as an anchor or as a support, to be alone forever.
One would think that he'd be used to it by now, born an orphan and deprived of normality due to his fame. But at the thought of complete and utter isolation, the contentment was slipping away and fear was settling in. Would he be formless then, if he continued to float here? Would he cease to exist? Would it even matter if he did?
Nothing, no one, was a constant in his life. People came, people went and with one spell cast, everything changed.
'And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...'
There was... but no... these words were false, the prophecy containing them was false. And yet, the dependency was true, was it not? Whatever may have come, Lord Voldemort had always been present. A fear, a fatal enemy, an object of hatred and loathing and even someone to blame, when his life was unfair... but he'd always just been. Life without Voldemort would, surely be easier to live but... unimaginable as well. Harry was, in a certain perspective, defined by Voldemort. From before the time he'd even come into existence, Voldemort's fate had twisted with his own in inexplicable ways. It was a pitiful existence, to live simply because there was someone whose destiny was tied to you. But it was still an anchor wasn't it? Something that allowed him to be tied to life and to not just float around aimlessly. It was a reason to live.
And suddenly, he was formless no more. The visions and colours around him combined to form a familiar place. The visions became a dark sky, a stretching forest and the deep expanse of a lake. Behind him rose a castle, as magnificent as he remembered it, with its lights twinkling reassuringly at him. The whispers became a wind that stirred the trees and he found himself standing in the grounds of Hogwarts, a marble tomb in front of him. 'That was very good, Harry. I've always been very proud of your ability to reason things out. They may take you a while, but you do seem to get there, eventually.'
A painstakingly familiar voice. One he hadn't heard for so long but had yearned to, endlessly. The voice of his old headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
Harry looked around, peering over the the closed tomb with deep cracks on its surface but the headmaster was nowhere in sight. The voice spoke again and Harry found himself staring at the wide sky, as though the voice was raining down upon him from the heavens.
'Harry, you must be quite cross with me. I have done you no favours, I know...'
A lump rose in Harry's throat. He'd imagined yelling at Dumbledore countless of times, wishing the headmaster would appear in front of him just so he could ask why and demand explanations. But now that he was here, or some form of him at least, Harry could only feel loss and pain.
'Ah, Harry... Your ability to love, even when others have wronged you so, is and always will be, your strongest power.'
Harry finally found his voice and whispered his response, somehow knowing Dumbledore would hear it all the same. "I need no power now, Professor. I'm helpless... how can I defeat someone that lives inside me?"
'There is more to this than you can see and more than I have let you see, my dear boy. Perhaps even more than I, myself have seen... and regretfully, ignored.'
"What are you trying to say?" Harry asked the heavens pleadingly, begging the old headmaster to be, for once, clear.
'Come to this tomb, Harry. You must find answers in signs I have hidden preciously. Bring Voldemort with you... you must find the answer together now. For without each other, you truly have no hope...'
And with those words, his surroundings were dissolving. Harry struggled to reach out, to ask more answers to endless questions but the castle and the tomb faded and Harry disappeared into a void once again.
xxx
As the boy thrashed about wildly in his sleep, the hands of the figure that stood beside him clenched themselves in anxious anger. The boy's head lolled from side to side, strings of senseless words escaping his lips. He sweat in copious amounts, the sheets drenched and falling halfway to the floor. He needed help.
Lord Voldemort knew he did, but he refused for anyone other than him to even come close to the boy. The reason wasn't something as trivial as his identity or a lack of wanting the boy to come out of his unconsciousness. It was a fierce protectiveness instead, one that the Dark Lord himself hadn't known he'd held for the boy. Seeing his vulnerable state, the damp, perspiring skin and matted hair, the lips that framed a soundless scream... it wasn't something he could let others see.
Comforting or taking care of others was not something Lord Voldemort did. He'd managed by relying purely magic for the past two days, automatically filling the boy's stomach with sustenance and water. The problem, he knew, was not physical. Harry Potter was stuck somewhere deep in oblivion, the side effect of his attempt to kill him.
No healer or warlock was practised in magic such as this. Magic which dealt with the consciousness was reserved only for practised legilimens due it's sensitive nature. Having already abused the magic many times, he would have had no reservations in plunging forth into the boy's mind, finding his conscious and dragging him out. He would have done so, had the boy's mind not remained firmly closed to him, barring all access.
Grief and love, indeed, Voldemort thought with a scowl. The same grief and love was now preventing the boy's life to be saved. Continued residence in a consciousness yielded similar results as to someone being subjected to a Dementor's Kiss. Lifeless, but living. The boy's heart would beat and he would breathe but he would not be... alive.
Voldemort, who'd begun pacing the room, suddenly stilled. The boy's heart would beat and he would breathe... meaning, he would serve his purpose of being his horcrux, and be unable to fight against him. So then... why was he so opposed to the idea? It was understood that the boy was a credible tool to achieve his means, but was he really worth the effort Voldemort suddenly found himself putting into saving his life?
He glanced again at the boy. He looked pitiful, chest heaving and hands clawing as though to hold onto something. The defined features were twisted in agony, and the lean body splayed wide in his discomfort. No... it was not an attraction stemming from physical attributes, despite their appeal. It was because of who the boy was instead. The object of his obsession and now protection.
Voldemort walked over to the bed, a hand reaching out to the boy's forehead, adorned with the scar that made him his. Yes, his own... the words were pleasing, as was the idea. His fingers were an inch from the boy now, hesitating. Never had he touched someone, in such a way... not as a caress, as something... intimate. Of course, he had experience in physical matters from his youth, when his hormones too had been rampant and an annoyance. But it was a done deal and in later years, the temptation of power had been far more seductive.
The hand met with the boy's forehead. He rested it palm first, lightly above his eyes. Immediately, he felt the body beneath him relax. There were only soft murmurs now, and hands still twitching as though to hold something.
Unbidden, he felt his other hand snaking it's way to one of the boy's. Their hands clasped, and the murmurs became only quivering lips. Voldemort held stock still, captivated by the his vulnerability. Moments later, the boy was asleep.
With a sigh unlike him, Voldemort let go of the boy, stepping away quietly. The boy still remained asleep, finally calm after his week long ordeal.
Week long... That made it a little over two weeks from the time that everything had changed. Two weeks ago, had someone dared to tell him that he would be holding Harry Potter's hand on his sickbed, he would have killed them. And yet, despite that, nothing really had changed. Loathing... Of course the boy hated him. Voldemort knew, though he never said it, that his horcrux was planning something against him. Not to kill, which was impossible now, but to somehow spare the lives of his little friends. Voldemort let out a scoff and Harry stirred, tossing his head towards where Voldemort stood. Extending a thin, pale finger, he moved away the hair covering the boy's scar, making it clearly visible again.
They would see what friendship would survive the revelation of the Boy-Who-Lived being on the Dark side. He would have to choose, yes... ones that understood would be spared and those who didn't would be left to the mercy of his Death Eaters.
It was more than a fair enough exchange, wasn't it? It was how the world worked. The boy would have to learn that there was no such thing as true friendship. One did not create relations with the intention to honour them. They did so according to what would benefit them. Even theirs was a relation as such. Harry was Voldemort's horcrux, needed to keep him alive and be protected. In exchange, Voldemort would refrain from caging him and spare some lives of Dumbledore's pathetic order.
Voldemort moved closer to the boy, cupping his sleeping face. And perhaps, in return of a few extra lives spared, Voldemort would be able to get something else he desired as well. Not mere carnal pleasure... which was just the wrapping on the gift hidden underneath. No... he wanted the boy's heart. Complete and utter surrender... to the point where he could not, would not be able to live or breathe without him. The boy would be his and only his, a possession more precious than any he had ever had, or ever would.
xxx
It was night when Harry came back to the current, deep from within the confines of his mind. His throat was parched, and when he opened his eyes to see, his vision blurred more than usual. After a few tries, he sat up, hands and joints so weak that they could barely support his weight. It did not feel as though he had been asleep. His tiredness could be related to how he remembered feeling after particularly nasty Quidditch matches but the mental fatigue he felt was unlike anything else.
He shivered slightly, despite the covers that had been piled on top of him. He felt clammy and cold, the stink from his own sweat almost unbearable. He desperately needed to bathe... but first some water. Reaching over to the side-table, his hand groped around for his glasses and Dumbledore's old wand. Each time his hand touched something else, he flinched. Every single nerve in his body hurt.
A slight weight settled on his lap and Harry started, surprised to find his glasses and his wand laying neatly on his covers. Pushing the glasses on clumsily, he held the wand up to his mouth and croaked, "Augamenti." His adam's apple bobbed with every large gulp, throat gurgling. Ending the spell, he stilled, conscious of someone watching him.
"Who's there?"
The room was completely dark, and Harry whispered, "Lumos," filling the room with an eerie while light. No presence revealed itself and Harry put out the light after a moment, leaning back into the pillows.
"I suppose I can still sense you, even if you've disillusioned yourself..." Harry said quietly, looking at his shaking hands and wondering what the hell was wrong with him.
A chuckle, and then a warm presence beside him. A hand placed itself on his forehead and Harry became motionless in shock. The hand pressed firmer upon his forehead, until he was forced to lie back down. Heart thudding, Harry struggled to find his voice. A finger then placed itself upon his lips and another chuckle was heard.
'Sleep,' the voice commanded with a hiss and Harry glared defiantly in the dark.
"No, I want to get up," he said, voice muffled against the finger.
'Sleep,' the hiss was stronger now and Harry shivered again. Stubborn as he was though, he kept his eyes wide open, still glaring in the dark.
The hand on his forehead moved farther up to his hair, thumb caressing his scar. He felt no pain, only warmth. Slowly, against his will, his eyes drooped and his breathing became slow and deep once more. Before completely losing the battle, Harry heard another hiss, this time not directed at him. 'Keep an eye on him...'
The hand removed itself, leaving Harry feeling somewhat of a loss. His eyelids still felt heavy but something nagged him at the back of his mind, telling him to stay awake. "W-wait," he whispered, "I have to tell you something..."
"It can wait," Voldemort said normally, still invisible.
"Dumbledore... came to me while I was..." he trailed off, no word seeming right to describe exactly where he'd been.
"It can wait." Voldemort said firmly. Not a sound was made but light flooded into the room moments later as a door was opened. The door closed and Harry sighed in the dark, letting his full weight fall into the bed. A soft, hissing croon made itself known then, lulling him to sleep and he gave in to it's comforting call.
xxx
When Harry awoke next, it was with a cry of surprise. It was morning now, and the elegant room he'd been staying in was filled with muted light from behind the large drapes. The room was as he remembered it, with the clothes the house-elves had been bringing him strewn over the otherwise neat room. His dark cloak lay draped on a chair as well, his moleskin pouch lying near it.
Everything was as he'd left it, except for two new occupants that had made themselves at home in his room. One was Nagini, who had made herself a bed on the foot of his own, half her body inside his covers. The other was a boy, light-haired and currently rubbing his eyes groggily, who had been sleeping on another ornate chair beside his bed. After his initial cry of surprise, Harry was staring opened mouth at the boy, not as worried about the snake.
Draco Malfoy rubbed his eyes to his heart's content and then stretched, yawning widely. He blinked a few times, looking at Harry and then a smirk started to form on his lips. Harry still stared at him disbelievingly. Coming to his senses, he hissed, "Are you out of your mind? What the hell are you doing here? If he sees you, you'll be-"
"Honestly Potter," Malfoy said drowsily, "You really think I could've been sleeping in your room without the Dark Lord knowing?"
Harry closed his mouth abruptly, thoroughly confused. Malfoy gave an exasperated sigh and sneered, "He is the one who's sent me here. To watch over you..."
Harry's mouth was on the verge of falling open again and he clenched it tightly instead, glaring at his old school enemy. He then said gruffly, "I don't need anyone to watch over me."
"The Dark Lord doesn't seem to think so," he replied smugly.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Out of all the people he could tell, he told you?"
Malfoy scowled, "Of course he did, how else would I be here then. Especially with it curled up on your bed like that..."
Harry looked closely and saw that Malfoy was speaking to his right shoulder, trying his hardest to not even have the snake in his peripherals.
Harry grinned, mouth stretching oddly as though it had forgotten how, and said, "She probably doesn't take kindly to that, you know..."
The snake in question gave a sleepy hiss and Malfoy visibly jumped. Harry gave a snort and leaned back, rolling his shoulders. He felt stronger now, not shivering or shaking anymore. He'd fallen asleep with his glasses on from before and was pleased to note his vision wasn't blurry anymore. His glasses had dug in painfully to one side of his head though, and he took them off, rubbing his temple.
He caught Malfoy watching him and said, "What?"
"Nothing," said Malfoy, scowling again. "I don't get this..."
Harry sighed and said, "Welcome to the party."
"I don't get why you're here..."
"Hasn't anyone told you? I'm working with the Dark side," Harry's mouth twisted slightly as he said this, the words sounding odd.
"No one else knows who you are, Potter," When Harry raised his eyebrows, Malfoy continued, "Not even my parents. The Dark Lord just summoned me saying he had a task for me. My parents don't even know whether I'm still in the manor."
Harry scoffed. "They don't need to. After you screwed up Dumbledore's death so royally, there's no chance you'll get to do much else, especially outside."
Malfoy sneered, "At least I'm not the one who has to be babysat. And all this about you working with him is rubbish. You're probably just a prisoner here..."
"A prisoner that's being guarded by a lowlife like you? Not bloody likely," Harry smirked back, secretly enjoying their banter. It was like old times again, a little bit of his old school life that he so desperately missed. Malfoy too seemed to be enjoying it, despite all his scowls and sneers.
"She's there to guard you too, and that's better than any human guard..."
"So then what are you here for? To keep me company?"
Malfoy shrugged, not sneering anymore. "Probably... it's not like anyone of us gets what's behind the orders. We just carry them out."
Harry nodded slowly, letting his head fall back onto the headboard. Both boys were quiet for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, unable to take it any longer, Harry asked, "Planning to leave anytime soon? I need to take a shower."
Malfoy rolled his eyes and began sarcastically, "See Potter, the thing about bathrooms is that they contain this thing called a door. And when you close the door-"
Harry shut Malfoy up by throwing a cushion at him. Giving him a scowl, he slowly got out of bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping snake. At his movement though, Nagini got up so suddenly that Malfoy gave a yelp and even Harry leaned back. She stared at him with slitted eyes and Harry cleared his throat, hissing, "Move aside, I need to bathe,' Nagini stared at him expressionlessly (she was a snake, after all) and moved onto the floor. Harry got up, t-shirt and jeans sticking to him uncomfortably. With the hobble of someone who'd spent days in bed with jeans, he picked up his wand and went to the elaborate bath.
As he opened the door, Nagini slipped in through first, leaving Malfoy and Harry staring after the large python in astonishment. Harry said disbelievingly, "What the hell?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes again. "I guess the Dark Lord doesn't trust you enough to be in the shower on your own."
When Harry still stood there uncertainly, Malfoy said amusedly, "Why else would she go inside? I'm sure despite being a parselmouth, you're probably not her type... Or do you think the Dark Lord would enjoy a report of exactly what you do in the shower?"
Harry flushed at the last, not even slightly inclined to tell Malfoy that he wouldn't be surprised if his high and mighty 'Dark Lord' did want that exactly.
"Oh go on!" Malfoy said angrily now, "I'm starving. I need breakfast and I can't go down without you! It's not like the bath isn't spacious enough. Just hiss the snake into a corner or something!"
With a mutter of, "Fine!" Harry went into the bath, closing the door behind him as Malfoy muttered back, "Finally!"
His hurried shower was quick and his embarrassed request, Nagini sat facing the wall the entire time, still not having hissed back a word since her soft crooning to him the previous night. When he was out, dressed again in clean clothes and smelling of some expensive soap, Malfoy was positively parading up and down the room, clutching his stomach. As soon as Harry got out, Malfoy gave an impatient wave, hungry enough to not start talking and delay. Harry donned on his cloak, shrouding himself completely and the two boys left the room, snake following closely behind.
Harry entered the vast dining hall with some apprehension. His previous exchange with Voldemort had been quite odd and the one before that hadn't been much better. He wasn't looking forward to seeing the Dark Lord at all, the only things stopping him from barricading himself in his room being food, Malfoy and Dumbledore's appearance. He still wasn't too sure whether the appearance actually had any meaning or whether it was something his mind had just dreamed up. Although his weak and sleepy self had been quick to blurt to Voldemort about the vision, he now wasn't so sure whether it was such a good idea. It was highly plausible that the prophecy's true contents were just as bad as the fake. Would it really do him any favours to have Voldemort knowing it all along with him? His only counter-argument had been that even if he didn't tell Voldemort or made something up, the chances of him getting out of the manor to pursue a personal quest weren't too good. Malfoy's and Nagini's now constant shadows only proved it.
His anxiety was put to rest though, when he entered the hall and saw that the Dark Lord was nowhere in sight. The atmosphere in the room was almost relaxed, with a few Death Eaters speaking lazily amongst themselves and others engrossed in eating. The elder Malfoys had been the quietest of all though, speaking only when necessary and otherwise staring into space in tense silence. The relief was therefore, painfully obvious on their faces when Harry and Draco stepped into the room. Draco, the image of a prim and perfect pure-blood once again, only nodded at his parents before taking a seat with one open beside it for Harry. Harry, who'd frozen on the threshold looking for Voldemort, too relaxed and moved into the room, taking Malfoy's indicated seat. There were many mutterings at the sight of him and it took him a moment before he could recall why. He then remembered his torture of Bellatrix and despite himself, a small smirk crossed his face. He was, in the end, glad he'd gotten his revenge. There was nothing more to the torture than that, and Harry's little meeting with Dumbledore had assured him that somewhere deep down, he was still the same man who would never torture people just for the heck of it.
Harry begun to tackle the full plate in front of him with a small nostalgic sigh. Though the plate was full and filled with a perfect breakfast, warmed just right, it would still never compare to anything of Mrs. Weasley's. Malfoy gave him a side-along glance at the sigh and Harry shook his head slightly. Moments later, Malfoy dropped his fork with a clatter and stiffened, as the witches and wizards around them looked at him curiously. Each and everyone of them hastily went back to their plates as they caught sight of Nagini twisting up Harry's chair, hissing softly. Harry spared her a glance before going back to eating as well and the other Death Eaters gave him appraising looks. He supposed he was some sort of celebrity with them now too, cloaked and mysterious and brave enough to shut Bellatrix up.
As they ate, Nagini surveyed the room regally, looking at each Death Eater carefully. Harry's lips twitched at the thought of how much she looked like Voldemort then and he supposed she was perhaps more affected by the piece of his soul inside of her, what with her originally being a snake. His thoughts then wandered off to how much Voldemort's soul affected him and if that was the reason behind why he had fainted and then been unable to wake. Feeling a little nauseated at the thought of the dark nothingness and of what little he remembered of his state, he pushed his plate away and sat back.
Malfoy was still eating and Harry waited quietly, content to stare at the Death Eaters along with Nagini. At the moment, they all just looked like normal witches and wizards, sharing a quiet breakfast. Right now, he couldn't bring himself to worry about all the crimes they had committed and how much he detested them. It was, he felt sometimes, the same with Voldemort. Voldemort had pushed him too far the day of the meeting and Bellatrix's torture, which was why he had suddenly found himself overwhelmed and angry beyond reason. He supposed Voldemort too deserved his attempt at killing him, even though from the looks of it, it did Harry more harm than him. Harry wasn't too worried about being punished or any such thing concerning his loss of control. Knowing Voldemort, he had probably relished in it, the fact that Harry was unable to even complete the spell to kill him.
It was another thought that made him uneasy, the fact that he had tried to use the same spell that had killed his parents against someone else, even if it was their killer. Although he'd gone through many years thinking he would have to kill Voldemort in the end, he had never really imagined using Avada Kedavra to kill him, his daydreams always just stopping short of a final confrontation between the two. So many times had he imagined it... a final battle between Voldemort and him, where he would tell Voldemort what a wretched, horrid being he was and then somehow, kill him. The aftermath though, he had always found hard to picture. What would he have done then? Become an Auror and start a family? Marry Ginny, go for frequent meals at the Burrow... lead a normal life? Would he ever have been able to get over the passing of everyone who had ever been close to him, able to live like what was in the past was done and of no consequence any longer?
A sudden silence around the table caused him to come out of his brooding and look for the cause. It was Bellatrix, standing at the entrance in a haughty silence and looking at Harry murderously. The silence stretched onwards and Harry's hand found his wand underneath his cloak, clutching it tightly.
Bellatrix made a sudden movement but before Harry or anyone could respond, Nagini launched herself across the large table, baring her fangs and hissing madly. Dishes shattered and the table groaned with the weight of the large snake, as the other Death Eaters pushed away from the table hurriedly. Seeing the angry snake, Bellatrix too stepped back. Nagini stretched her body languidly, but he recognized it as position from which she would be able to attack easily. Harry stood up, speaking to the snake in a calm voice, 'Calm down... don't hurt anyone or her.'
Nagini looked back at him, baring her fangs still and spitting in anger. 'Enough...' Harry hissed again and the snake closed her mouth with a hiss, staring at him.
"You...you can speak to her!" Bellatrix exclaimed with a gasp and Nagini turned back to her with a snap of her body, spitting again.
'Enough Nagini... a scare was all that was needed...'
Bodies turned immediately towards the entrance where Voldemort stood, eyes glittering dangerously. He walked into the room slowly, as elegant and lethal in his movements as his snake. Bellatrix had lowered her eyes and when Voldemort stood in front of her, she fell to her knees. Voldemort raised her chin with his wand, then lowered it, digging it into her neck painfully. She whimpered and started to plead as Harry moved slowly to where Voldemort was standing, without anyone's notice.
"You have disappointed me far too often these days, Bella... Tell me, what is stopping me from killing you?"
"Me," said Harry from behind the Dark Lord, hands clenching underneath his robes, out of sight.
'Stand aside, I will deal with my Death Eaters as I wish. You have no say in this.'
'This is about me and I want to be the one settle it.'
Voldemort scowled at him for a moment and with a mocking sweep of his hand, beckoned him forward as he stepped aside. Harry walked forward and taking a deep breath said, "Bellatrix. My actions the other day were based solely on revenge. If you had known my identity, you would have expected it." He saw Bellatrix look up at him suspiciously through his cloak and continued, "I have gotten my revenge and want nothing more to do with you. Challenge me to duel if that is the only thing that will settle this, but know that I already accept you as a far better duellist than I am or ever will be."
Bellatrix's eyes widened and the occupants of the room gasped collectively. Glancing at Voldemort, he saw that the Dark Lord was standing there with a sneer at Harry's attempt at a peaceful agreement. Bellatrix stayed on her knees, staring at him incredulously and Harry started to regret his words with a sinking feeling... maybe he should have let Voldemort kill her...
Then, to everyone's surprise, Bellatrix stood up gracefully and said, "I honour revenge and you have settled anything I might have done in return by stepping in for me. I call us even, but know this," she stepped closer to him, scowling, "ever dare cross my path again and I will prove exactly how good a duellist I am. I will not hesitate to destroy you."
Harry nodded solemnly, "Agreed."
Bellatrix bowed her head slightly to her master and made to move towards the door but as quick as the dart of a snake, Voldemort's wand jerked, sending her crashing down to the floor. Harry eyes widened in horror and the Death Eaters leaned away immediately at the fury in Voldemort's eyes. Bending down, he grabbed Bellatrix up by her hair, as she whimpered in protest.
"Just because you may have settled your debts does not mean that I am finished with you, Bellatrix!" Voldemort snarled furiously. Harry was alarmed by Voldemort's sudden vehemence. Never had he seen Voldemort look so crazed, despite having witnessed countless torture sessions both personally and as visions.
"P-please, my... lord. I meant n-no disrespect..." Bellatrix gasped as tears rolled down her face and Voldemort's fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her to kneeling position.
"I will teach you to never touch what is mine... Crucio!" Everyone was frozen in horror. Such was intensity of Voldemort's cruciatus that Bellatrix could not even scream in pain. Her face only twisted in terrible pain and within seconds, she was lying flat on floor, unconscious. Voldemort still did not lower his wand, making Bellatrix's lifeless body twitch and jerk as the curse continued. Harry snapped out of his stupor and did something that was very stupid but courageous at the same time. He walked forward and lay a hesitant hand on Voldemort's outstretched arm. Voldemort stiffened and turned sharply, crimson eyes insane. Harry turned his face away from the eyes, heart thudding, but his arm still grasped Voldemort's.
'Stop,' he hissed softly and the parseltongue got through to Voldemort, who dropped his arm, staring at Harry's cloaked figure still with his insane eyes.
Harry did not have to look to sense every Death Eater present staring at them in disbelief and fear. He released his hold on Voldemort and stepped back, looking at the ground, shoulders hunched forward protectively though it looked no different with the cloak on. Voldemort glanced at Bellatrix's broken body and then turned to the remaining Death Eaters, who dropped to their knees in submission and lowered their eyes.
"Hear me well. Whoever dares to touch him or even promises to, will be given a fate much, much worse than that you all have just seen..." The Death Eaters nodded, sinking lower.
Voldemort looked at every bowed figure and when satisfied growled, "Now leave. And someone remove her from my sight."
The Death Eaters jumped to their feet and Narcissa charmed her sister's body to float out. Harry, knowing he was not in the ranks of those dismissed, stayed standing, as did Nagini. The door closed with a snap and Harry felt fear spread through him. His head lowered further, shoulders hunched together again.
Shards of glass that littered the floor tinkled as Voldemort moved them out of his way, taking slow steps to stand in front of Harry. With a jerk of his hand, Harry's hood fell off, revealing his eyes shut in expectance of a similar cruciatus.
"Finally," breathed Voldemort, "I sense fear in you once again... Do you fear me?"
He sounded as insane as he looked. Opening his eyes, Harry replied levelly, "I fear your insanity, not you."
"But Harry," Voldemort said in a low voice, thumb reaching up to trace Harry's other scar, the one that ran from mouth down to jaw, "my insanity is me. It is my very power... let me show you."
Stepping back, Voldemort raised his wand. The hall began to shake. Portraits screamed as they came crashing down, their frames and glass breaking. Curtains ripped, letting morning light into the dark room and the windows shattered one after the other, leaving the hall open to the elements. Outside, sudden clouds gathered, and rain began to pour down in the ernest, uninvited. A gusting wind entered the hall, swirling the Malfoys' priceless possessions all over, destroying them.
Through it all, Harry stood silently, eyes never leaving Voldemort's as the world seemingly came crashing down around them. Then with a wave, everything stilled. The rain became a drizzle, the wind stopping. Objects that had been flying in midair came crashing to the ground with a finality and Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in. The hall was wrecked as though a tornado had come through, miraculously leaving only the two wizards standing.
Voldemort came forward once more, a hand gripping Harry's jaw and tilting it upward. His nails dug into Harry's cheeks. The hold was possessive and Voldemort asked the same question again, perhaps believing his show of power would have been enough to scare him.
"Do you fear me now?"
Undeterred, Harry replied again, "Not you, only your insanity." Voldemort held him for another moment and then slowly let go, stepping back. His face had calmed, eyes as normal as they could be. Turning around, he witnessed the destruction he had caused and said quietly, "Put it back together the way it was... I would like to see the power of that wand in the hands of it's true owner."
The command wasn't at all what he had expected but Harry obeyed anyway, pulling out the Elder Wand and holding it uncertainly in his hand. The destruction was massive and he did not know whether a simple reparo would suffice. Not knowing anything else, he decided to give it a try, putting more faith into the wand than the spell. Raising it, he said, "Reparo..."
And it worked magnificently. Objects healed and placed themselves back to their old positions. Paintings and portraits righted themselves and each window was put back together with glass shards zooming together at once and fitting together like a giant jigsaw puzzle. Cloth mended itself, stains removed themselves and the remnants of breakfast cleared away, leaving whole dishes and glasses behind. It reminded Harry of the time he had seen Dumbledore and Slughorn put a muggle room back together in his sixth year and he wondered if reparo was the same spell they had used. Secretly pleased that he was able to accomplish something similar, albeit only because of a stronger wand, Harry felt content for the first time in very long. He had forgotten what it had been like performing magic that wasn't defensive or used only to fight. He realized then that he missed it sorely.
As the last of the wreckage cleared, Harry surveyed the room, disappointed only to note that he had been unable to correct the weather outside. Harry decided he didn't mind it too much though, as the soft rain against the windows was comforting. He saw Voldemort too was looking out the window and said softly, "I'm not sure what spell to use to right the weather..."
Still looking outside, Voldemort said, "Powerful magic always induces rain. Although the gale and initial downpour were conjured by me, the rain now is natural, just a reaction to our magic..."
Harry nodded, looking outside as well. He had forgotten how learned Voldemort was, that inside the Dark Lord was a practised and proficient wizard. It was easy to forget the little of Tom Riddle that was inside Voldemort still, the young man who had only been an orphan and keen on magic. Sure, his temperament had leaned towards cruelty from the beginning but Harry still believed that it was circumstances that had made him so. It was why he said that he did not fear Voldemort, only the insanity he had fallen into. The acknowledgement was something new, the fruit of a memory he had seen twice now. Although his ordeal of the past few days still made him shudder, it had brought forth more than a few revelations as well. After the vision of Dumbledore had finished, he'd had the chance to contemplate many things with his whispering conscious by his side. One was the memory of a young Tom Riddle, whose anguished face as he killed his own father had haunted Harry endlessly. He had come to realize that Riddle's father had probably been his first kill, along with his grandparents. And also that once upon a time, Voldemort too had felt pain and loss... which had eventually led to him becoming what he was today.
Harry still felt just as much hatred for the man who had killed so many and ruined his life. He knew the grudge was something that wouldn't pass easily, if ever. The only thing was that he understood Voldemort a bit better now and was able to come to terms with the fact that Voldemort was a forever in his life, as long as he lived. He had banished all thoughts of ever going back to a normal life, or even his old life. He would stay beside Voldemort and try his best to dissuade his deep-set cruelty. He would protect his friends as best he could, repaying them for all they had ever done for him.
He suddenly found his throat constricted, his eternal bond to Voldemort seeming no less painful despite it's nobility. Harry swallowed to regain control of himself and found Voldemort looking at him again.
"I suppose it is time you tell me exactly what you witnessed while unconscious," Voldemort said quietly, not commenting further on Harry's spell-casting.
Harry nodded and began. Some parts were unclear and he hesitated quite a bit, trying to recall everything. Dumbledore's vision, he was pleased to note, he remembered perfectly and was able to recite completely. He kept out most of his ordered thoughts, especially the one concerning Tom Riddle and the one that had come before Harry had met Dumbledore. The result of this was a bemused Voldemort, who did not understand why Dumbledore had commended him on his reasoning abilities.
When Voldemort asked, Harry did not reply immediately, feeling a flush creeping about his neck and ears. Although what he had reasoned was normal and true, it still left him feeling a little embarrassed. Hesitantly, he tried to explain, "Well like I said, I was floating around in this... expanse of nothing before Hogwarts and Dumbledore came into being. I'm not even sure if I had some form at that point actually... I just felt... disconnected. It was alright though and I remember feeling better than I had in years, able to forget about... everything. It didn't seem as scary back then as it does now... Just as I was wishing I could stay like that forever, a voice whispered to me that I should just... die, because there isn't really anyone who would be affected by it, anyway..." Harry paused embarrassedly but Voldemort urged him forward with a nod.
Flush prominent now, Harry averted his face and continued, "I started thinking about how everyone had been taken away from my life at one point or another... But there was someone, who'd been a part of it forever... even if he was responsible for the absence of most of the others" Harry paused again, eyes coming to Voldemort's and with a deep breath said, "It was... you, of course. Even if you were an enemy and always a threat, in a way... you were the only thing I could ever expect. That no matter what happened-"
"I would always try to kill you," Voldemort finished, eyes widened. "It is," Voldemort continued, turning away from him, "similar to something I came to terms with as well. Your life, or death I suppose, was far more important to me than anything else since the moment I heard that prophecy. It explains our... sudden agitation. We seem to have lost ourselves..." he said the last softly and Harry was caught in wonder at the accuracy of Voldemort words as to what they were both going through. He had never, in a million years, expected Voldemort to understand.
"Was it... real then? What I felt and saw?" Harry had been waiting to pose this question for a long time.
"There is a high chance it was. Even if the words were your own imagination, it is very likely that they were dreamed by you for a specific reason. Your sub-conscious could very well be trying to tell you something or it could even be the result of a spell, planted by Dumbledore before-hand."
"So then, it is possible that Dumbledore did leave behind some way for us to figure out the true prophecy?"
Voldemort nodded, scowling, "It is no doubt his way to lead us on... Having control over the actions of others... even in death."
"Doesn't sound much different than something you would do," said Harry coldly. He felt angry at both of them, Voldemort and Dumbledore. He always seemed to following paths already craved out for him by either of the two powerful wizards.
Voldemort smirked in agreement but lapsed into silence once more. Impatient, Harry asked, "Will we go to Hogwarts then? To his grave?"
Voldemort nodded but did not elaborate. Harry prompted again, "When?"
"It is something that will have to be planned. We cannot step into Hogwarts at the slightest whim any longer..."
"What?" asked Harry, surprised, "I thought the school was under your control!"
Voldemort pursed his lips, anger evident in his face. "It is not any longer. The ministry was successful with it's seige..."
"Seige?" Harry was thoroughly shocked now, not understanding how this could have happened so quickly. When he asked, Voldemort replied in clipped sentences, "You were unconscious for little over a week. It was very much possible that you have stayed in a lifeless state forever. During this time, the ministry attacked Hogwarts. It was a surprise attack, one that I hadn't forseen due to recent... distractions. As a result, the ministry had staked claim over the school, calling it a new establishment for the better training of able bodied witches and wizards to fight our forces."
Harry was stunned. A training site? It sounded more or less like a muggle military camp. "The Order... is it siding with them?"
Voldemort shook his head once, "The Order is fighting a battle of it's own. There are apparently many within the Order that are siding with the ministry, although they claim to oppose them outwardly."
"Why, though? If the ministry is finally fighting your forces then why does the Order oppose them?"
"Their methods, of course. The ministry has become ruthless, as keen on using dark magic as it is light. They are ready to whatever it takes, which makes them immeasurably powerful for us and opposed the ever important morals of the Order..."
"That's terrible!" Harry said indignantly, "they're training innocent people to become savages just to overthrow the dark! Even if they ever succeed, the result wouldn't be peace either way..."
"I do not care the slightest about how savage Britain's witches and wizards become," Voldemort growled dangerously, "what matters is that the ministry is powerful and very much harder to penetrate..."
Harry let out a huff, knowing Voldemort truly did not care the slightest. This new direction was obviously the most stupid the ministry had ever taken and Harry suddenly found himself wishing that Voldemort's forces would be enough to fight it. Fighting Voldemort's forces and ideals, which were completely dark, verses fighting the ministry which employed innocent people, would be much easier for the Order. He could already foresee the havoc this would have created in the Order and when Harry's new role came out... there was a high chance that the Order would fall apart.
"Either way," said Harry, pushing aside thoughts of the war, "we'll have to get into Hogwarts, somehow..."
Voldemort nodded, "There is a possible way. An attack could be staged, with Death Eater's attacking the front of Hogwarts while we enter through the back..."
"That's impractical," Harry said dismissively and Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "It would be far easier to just break in quietly, take what we must and leave."
"What? Break in like petty thieves and leave quietly," Voldemort sneered.
"Exactly," said Harry firmly, "There is no reason for an elaborate attack, especially when you don't have the forces."
Voldemort looked angry at being assumed weak and Harry tried placate him. "There are only two people who need to get in, you and me. We don't even need to enter the castle, only the grounds. They won't ever expect a break-in and chances are, the security is lax because again, they are not expecting anyone."
Voldemort was silent, contemplating. They both knew the true reason behind why Harry was trying to dissuade him from a full fledged attack. His sympathies were obviously not with the weakened forces of the Death Eaters but instead with the innocent people inside Hogwarts at the time. He knew the point he raised was however, more than valid. He only hoped Voldemort would be able to put his arrogance aside for once and consider it.
After sometime, Voldemort gave a terse nod. "I will think upon it. You are still weak and in no condition to leave this manor. Stay with the youngest of Malfoys and keep yourself busy while a suitable date and time is devised."
Harry nodded the asked, "Why did you tell him? Malfoy, I mean. I thought no one was to know beforehand..."
"I cannot be spared to keep an eye on you and neither can be any other Death Eaters. He is able enough to guard you alongside Nagini. Do not try and disobey. I will not be as lenient as I was today."
Harry was sorely tempted to point out that he hadn't actually done anything wrong and that he would disobey as much as he bloody well wanted. Deciding not to push the unstable wizard any further though, he held his tongue.
Another question that bothered him came up though and Harry decided to ask that while he had the chance. "Why was I unable to complete the spell the other day? To kill you?"
Voldemort sighed and said, "I do not know. As you cast it, I gained access into your mind for a fleeting moment, much like one does when someone is dying. I thought the worst..." Voldemort quietened and Harry found himself holding his breath, despite reminding himself constantly, it's only because you're his horcrux...
"I would guess that it has something to do with the prophecy. Other than that, I cannot say anything else." The response was quick, too quick and Harry's eyes narrowed. The Dark Lord was hiding something.
"Leave now," said Voldemort quietly, "I must meet with my Death Eaters and fend off harebrained enquiries about your particular actions today..."
Harry's head jerked up with a snap. "It's not my fault... Nagini was going to kill her and it was something I'd rather not stomach. You weren't much better either, torturing an unconscious person..."
Voldemort looked over at Nagini, who was coiled on a chair quietly, her presence unnoticed. "She did it of her own accord. I did not ask it of her..."
Harry looked at snake in slight appreciation. "Maybe she can sense it, too. That I'm your horcrux..."
"Maybe..." agreed Voldemort half-heartedly and Harry wondered again what he was hiding.
The stood silent for a moment and then Harry pulled over his hood again, nodding to Voldemort. Voldemort inclined his head and Harry left, soundlessly being followed by the snake once more. As he walked out of the now pristine hall, Harry looked back at Voldemort, who staring out the window again and realized that for the first time, he'd had left Voldemort's presence without a fight or a dramatic exit. Smiling softly at the absurdity of the thought, Harry disappeared into the shadows of the manor, not feeling the crimson eyes that had turned to stare at him longingly once again.
xxx
A/N: Hope you liked it. It was horribly hard to write this chapter and I'm completely drained out now... Hope you like it anyway, forgive the small mistakes, its late at night and am tired.
Not gonna say much except that a) you got some beginnings of slash and that the story is moving forward, with the prophecy and what not. b) I have no clue if reparo can actually put things back together in their proper place but I didn't know what else to use. That whole part is supposed to be metaphor anyway and imaginary props to you if you get it.
Next, Conversations and Retribution is receiving so much love :) I'm apparently whimsical, because that was definitely not planned. Its LV/HP, give it a try if it appeals to you, I'll update it before midterms which are in two-ish weeks.
This story will not be updated before them, but I'll make a long-ass chapter as compensate. I can't do fast updates because they seriously degrade my writing. For example, ch1 = alright, ch2 = crap, ch3 = good, ch4 = crap (even though I took long, it was re-written 5 times and the last draft was written in two days), ch5 = ? (hint: review)
Anyhow, Thanks for reading.
P.S. Just cuz it was a cliffy, I can't believe you guys left me hanging in the 90s... jkn, reviews are not obligatory ;) much love