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
A/N: Long A/N at bottom short, I need a beta. If interested, please message. (I know this may not be right place to advertise but meh) I'm looking for someone who can do both this and Conversations and Retribution.
Chapter 6
"How is she?"
Startled blue eyes turned to look at him where he stood at the door, leaning against the frame. Narcissa Malfoy relaxed imperceptibly as she recognized his cloaked figure and murmured softly, "No better."
Harry gave a short hum in response, stepping into the room to stand beside the rich, mahogany bed. The sheets covering it were the purest of whites and the still woman who sat on the bed was also dressed in sleeping robes of the same colour. Her mass of dark hair and emaciated face contrasted sharply with the lightness of the rest of the room.
Narcissa, elegant in her robes of green and sitting on a chair beside the bed, got up at his approach. "Stay as long as you would like. I have some other business I must attend to."
Harry nodded at her through his hood and turned his attention back to the woman on the bed. She was looking out of the window silently, her eyes dead and lost.
It had almost been three weeks since the day Voldemort had put such force behind his cruciatus that Bellatrix Lestrange had fainted under it's spell. When she had awoken a day later, nothing remained the same. Gone was the mad, cackling woman with the permanent glint of cruelty in her eye. All that was left was a shell, unspeaking and unseeing.
The healer that had been called had attributed her severe reaction to the curse as a consequence of already having a slightly... loosetemperament, owing to her years of service to Voldemort's twisted ideals and the time she spent in Azkaban. Although it was hard to imagine a Bellatrix without that madness, it was something that had apparently been eating her on the inside and pushing her closer towards the day when she would completely and utterly break. Thanks to Voldemort's unrestrained curse, the day had come early.
Harry bit the inside of his lip, looking out the window Bellatrix had her eyes glued to. It was a painfully sunny day and the grounds surrounding the manor were a vibrant green, the prim garden thriving under the attention of the sunlight. It made for a positively picturesque image and Harry found himself frowning at it. It bothered him that such a happy looking landscape could surround the bleak manor where countless deaths and tortures had taken place. Many of which, he had to admit, were the work of the woman now sitting helpless in front of him.
Harry didn't know why he had taken to visiting Bellatrix from time to time after he had learned of her condition. It bothered him too, as to why he insisted on coming back and checking the welfare of a woman that had lost him not only his godfather but ruined the lives of many other people as well. A possible reason may have been to gloat, but anyone that knew him would attest to the fact that Harry Potter was not someone that took pleasure from something like that.
"You deserve this, you know," Harry murmured quietly, knowing the woman could not hear him – or at least, comprehend whatever her still functioning ears picked up.
Despite their bluntness, he knew his words to be true. She did deserve this, to fall so from her former power that she was now in the same state that two of her most famous victims had been. He was of course, thinking about Frank and Alice Longbottom.
It was by a cruel – or just – twist of fate that Bellatrix Lestrange was now in the same, horrifying condition that he had seen Neville's parents in. Still, his parents had Neville and his grandmother to visit them and care for them. Bellatrix on the other hand...
How long would Voldemort allow the useless shell of a Death Eater to linger about his latest haunt? What use did he have for such a person? Harry knew Voldemort had not only tolerated but even appreciated Bellatrix's viciousness as one of his most prized servants. With this recent change however, Harry would not put it past the vile man to throw Bellatrix out or even kill her as soon he turned his eyes to the fact that it was unlikely she would ever heal.
Bellatrix fidgeted, slowly drawing up her knees to rest her chin on them. Harry's eyes took in the vulnerable position, fascinated and troubled at the same time.
Harry had come to know enough of Narcissa Malfoy to know that she still did harbour some form of affection or duty towards her sister. Whether she would go against a Dark Lord that had almost complete control over her husband and son though, was a question answered only too easily. He knew the Malfoys were a tight-knit family and it left him in no doubt that if Narcissa felt even the slightest of dangers approaching her beloved husband and son, she do everything in her power to evade it – even if it meant letting her own sister die.
Mouth twisted in a grimace, Harry tugged at the collar of cloak. Why he was so concerned about all this was still beyond him. Hadn't he wanted to curse Bellatrix to death after what she had done? Wouldn't he have felt some satisfaction had someone been able to kill Bellatrix during the war? The answer was yes, yes he would have. Except the only difference now was that the Bellatrix that would have died then would still have been the woman that had relished in carrying out the cruel deeds she did and not the one that was currently sitting in front of him, like a helpless child.
Harry released a sigh, sitting down at the edge of the bed. A stray curl had fallen to the front of Bellatrix's face, in line with her nose. She had gone cross-eyed staring at it, but had made no move yet to push it out of the way.
Hesitantly, Harry reached out a hand to flip back the offending curl, careful not to touch her skin in the process. He flinched as her eyes flashed to him the instant he moved it, but relaxed when he saw that they were still dim and unaware.
He stared at her for another moment and she at him, though she could not have discerned his face beneath his hood anyway. Then, knowing it unwise and unfruitful to linger, he got up to leave.
Just as he moved away, a sudden tug at the sleeve of his cloak made him hastily twist around, eyes widened to see Bellatrix looking up at him with her bony hand clutching the cloth tightly.
Harry cleared his throat and feeling foolishly nervous asked, "Yes?"
To his utter bewilderment, the woman smiled widely, baring her yellowing teeth. Then releasing the sleeve slowly, she croaked while smiling eerily, "Harry Potter..."
Harry's mouth fell open in horror and he looked around the room, as though expecting to see throng of death eaters assembled around him, wands out. Seeing no one, he composed himself and leaning close to Bellatrix, breathed, "What did you say?"
"Potter," Bellatrix repeated simply, her voice clearer.
"How do you know it's me beneath the hood?" Harry asked softly, looking carefully at the eyes that were starting to look more aware by the second.
"I knew it was you the moment my lord defended you, Potter..." Bellatrix murmured, softer now.
Mouth dry, Harry repeated, "Defended me?"
"You are the only one that can make him act... like that..." Bellatrix's voice was growing quieter, receding to a mumble but her eyes remained bright.
"And why is that?"
A look of confusion stole over Bellatrix's face and she mumbled, "I don't know..."
Harry leaned back, processing her words. "Maybe I should call for a healer..." he said, more to himself than the woman.
"NO!" The reaction was instantaneous and Harry jumped back, shocked. A wild insanity had appeared back in Bellatrix's eyes as she stared at him angrily, bony hands coming up to clutch at his cloak again.
"No..." she breathed harshly. "No healer. Just let me be..."
Harry didn't struggle and after a moment the hands relaxed, the rich cloth of his cloak slipping through them like sand. The intelligence in the dark eyes receded as they became dim again, the chin that had been raised proud again coming to rest once again on her knees. And again, Bellatrix Lestrange was no more than an empty shell.
Harry's quickened heart returned to normal as he pushed himself off the bed, the cogs in his mind in motion.
So it seemed Bellatrix Lestrange did retain some of her former self, even if she was able to embody it only from time to time. It was no surprise, as it was common in cases like these. What bothered Harry was her insistence that no healer be called. Had the cruel woman truly lost herself so much that she wanted to remain in such an apathetic state... or was it a ploy of some sort?
Harry shook his head, a crease lining his hidden forehead. No, he did not believe it was a ploy. Perhaps it was pride that made the woman unable to seek out help or maybe even just a wish to spend her numbered days adrift in a void rather than amidst the harsh reality. Whatever it was, Harry did not think that Bellatrix was a threat to him, even if she had somehow figured out that it was he who was Voldemort's new cloaked companion.
With a small sigh, Harry got up, pulling the disguising cloak tighter about himself. He stepped out the door, so intent on his thoughts that he did not notice the man that flattened himself to the opposite wall as he left, narrowed eyes following his retreating back.
xxx
The manor was silent during this time of day, although the past few days had it just as quiet during other times as well. Harry walked up the stairs slowly, legs carrying him up to his room automatically while he was lost in his thoughts.
There wasn't really anything more to what Bellatrix had just said in her small period of alertness. It was admirable that she had been able to recognize him just before Voldemort had so vehemently cursed for touching what was 'his'but it did not surprise him that she was so perceptive of her lord. Even Harry, who could say that he knew the most about Voldemort's past and therefore had an adequate understanding of the man's behaviour, knew how exceptional it was for Voldemort to be so possessive of someone to this degree.
Harry had long since come to know that the Dark Lord's possessiveness was bordering on an obsession and found himself at odds as to what to think of it. It was certainly dangerous but useful as well. Voldemort regarded Harry as his weapon, something he planned to use against the Ministry and to bring about the downfall of the Order. Harry on the other hand saw this as an opportunity, to sway and dissuade the greatest Dark Lord of these times into sparing his friends and people in general... and then, if that thrice accursed prophecy said to, he would try his best to somehow kill of the man... and himself, if it was needed.
It was a desolate way of looking at things but it was the best he had. It could hardly be called a plan, and it bothered him greatly that his role in the war had been reduced to nothing more than just 'lying low'.
What fed his frustrations further was the fact that it had been three weeks since Harry had told Voldemort about his vision of Dumbledore and the man had done absolutely nothing about it. Harry hadn't expected Voldemort to act upon his every whim but the thing was, the Dark Lord didn't seem to be acting upon anything at all.
In the course of the past weeks, Harry had seen Lord Voldemort a total of three times. Twice in passing and only once had he been summoned, after which Harry hadn't seen him at all.
Their last meeting had been informative yet for Harry, still at a standstill. It had taken place a fortnight ago, with Harry receiving a summons in the form of Nagini's sleepy hiss...
"Sit."
The room was a study of sorts, with filled bookshelves of oak covering the walls and a desk and chair pushed carelessly to the side. Devoid of all other furniture apart from a wing-back chair Harry knew Voldemort favoured, it was evident that the study was not being used for it's intended purpose but instead just as a place for Voldemort to do nothing but think.
As Harry sat down on the stool that had been conjured beside the empty grate of the fireplace, Voldemort, sitting in his customary chair and stroking Nagini, observed him. "You've been uncharacteristically quiet."
Harry removed the hood of his cloak, tugging slightly on the knot to beneath his neck to loosen it. "I didn't see any reason to call unnecessary attention to myself. I find that staying out of your notice is usually beneficial to my health."
"Your tongue has sharpened..." Voldemort noted with a smirk. "Perhaps by the influence of staying alongside the Slytherins of this manor?"
"Maybe it always was and you just didn't notice. We've never really spoken all that much," Harry said, shrugging. "And actually, I find that it's you who's been quiet these days..."
"Oh?"
Harry frowned. "There's been no word of any attacks nor raids against the Ministry or even the Order. I don't get what you're planning."
"Perhaps you simply aren't meant to. But yes, quiet I have been..." Voldemort conceded thoughtfully in the end, eyes unwavering from Harry's face.
Used to the penetrating gaze by now, Harry sat silent, waiting for an explanation.
"The Ministry," Voldemort said after a moment, "has begun to exceed it's previous role as a mere nuisance into something that is starting to demand far more of my time than I had imagined."
"And why is that?" Harry asked.
"I would assume your knowledge is limited to whatever little you can get out of the Daily Prophet but simply reading the papers is not enough," Voldemort said briskly. "You must learn to look between the falsifying words to gain the true meaning of what the Ministry is planning."
"Well since my reading skills aren't up to par, do enlighten me as to what your wise eyes have gleaned from the stupid papers?"
Voldemort pursed his lips but there was a glint of amusement in his eye. He continued, "Tighter bonds with the wizarding world? Destroying any and every affiliation with the Dark? The Ministry is in want of a preciously close watch on it's subjects and it's doing so by interfering in the lives of every single witch and wizard of England."
"So no different from when your ministry was holding trials for muggle-borns," Harry said seemingly dismissively but with a hard edge to his voice. Umbridge's wide toad-like face filled with glee as she accused people of stealing magic swam in front of his eyes, a cold anger washing through him.
"Blood-status is of no consequence to the Ministry," Voldemort said, not commenting on Harry's scowl. "Though I must admit that their choice of their latest targets is quite ironic."
"Ironic? What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.
"Pure-bloods," Voldemort replied. "But more specifically, those that are tied to Slytherin."
"So then the Ministry is interrogating old pure-blood families to see if any of them are your followers? Oddly enough, I don't find myself disapproving of it."
"Oh don't you?" Voldemort's crimson eyes flashed dangerously and Harry stiffened. "So I suppose you approve that any man or woman that was ever sorted into Slytherin house is under grave scrutiny from the Ministry? That even people that haven't joined me face persecution because they have practiced magic a shade darker than usual?"
"Persecution? But that's impractical!" Harry said. "They can't expect to throw people into Azkaban just for being a Slytherin. There's a ton of them anyway."
"Not Azkaban," Voldemort sneered. "The Ministry knows full well that the Dementors are remain under my control. And as you have pointed out, imprisoning wizards of those numbers and for such reasons is indeed impractical. Their mean of control is much, much worse in reality..."
Harry waited with an expectant look on his face and Voldemort's face darkened. "I assume you know what an Unbreakable Vow is?"
Harry's eyes widened and Voldemort took that as answer enough. "Whole families, including children are being forced to Vow to the Ministry, to support their cause no matter what. From what I know, a total of three families have been sworn already."
"They can't... that's not possible! It's not something the Ministry would do, it's something-" Harry cut off hastily. He had been about to say 'something you would do' but had stopped himself in time. Still, Voldemort's eyes narrowed and he said shrewdly, "Something that I would do?"
Harry let out a sigh then scoffed, "Yeah, obviously. It's like you to want to control people. It's not something I wouldn't put past you."
With a relaxing of Voldemort's hands, Nagini slipped off of him and the man stood up to walk to the window. The full moon illuminated his snake-like features, making his pale skin glisten.
"You are correct," Voldemort said finally. "It is truly something that would be expected of me rather than of any light wizard. Then why," he asked, turning back to Harry, "have I not utilized such a power?"
Harry stood silent for a moment, thinking hard. Then he said, "You've used the Imperious curse, which is similar. But I know why you've never stooped so low as to use something like an Unbreakable Vow."
"Go on."
Harry looked up at Voldemort, his own eyes boring into the crimson. "It's not because you're any more honourable. I don't think it's because doing something like that is beneath you. No, you're far more twisted than that..."
A curious gleam entered Voldemort's eyes and he inclined his head, not challenging Harry's words.
"You've never used that sort of force because you haven't needed to. When you were Tom Riddle, people flocked to you of their own accord, ready to bend at your every whim. When you became Voldemort... they feared you enough to never go against your word."
Voldemort's lips had parted slightly by the time Harry finished and his eyes were a shade darker. Harry tensed as Voldemort came closer to where he sat and rose a hand to run over his scarred jaw.
"You are absolutely right. It pains me to admit it but perhaps you may have a greater understanding of my actions than I thought."
Harry gave a small smirk but immediately turned his head away, so that Voldemort's tapering fingers stopped inches from his face. Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the action but he made no move to touch him again.
"What I don't understand," Harry said, "is how they've been able to keep it all quiet. They can't all just approve of something like this... And anyhow, don't you need complete consent while making the vows?"
"Yes, consent is necessary but the threat of persecution or even just removal from their seat of power would be enough to make any pure-blood family succumb to taking the Vow." Voldemort said, reassuming his seat. "As for gaining the approval of others, I am led to believe that the matter is kept between a small group of people for the time being."
"Oh. So I suppose you have some spy stationed inside?"
"Naturally," Voldemort replied a bit haughtily, as though Harry should not even have to ask. Harry shook his head then said, "Do you um, know if the Order knows about what's going on?"
"I do not concern myself with what happens in an organization that I believe to be finished."
"It's not finished!" Harry blurted angrily. Then calming himself he asked, "Fine, but do you at least know what they're planning next? The Ministry, that is. If it's only old dark families that are being persecuted right now, what do they plan with the rest of them?"
"Not something as drastic as Unbreakable Vows, I think," Voldemort said slowly, watching Harry closely after his outburst. "But I can only think that want something similar... for the usual motives. The Ministry as a whole has become power-hungry enough to want complete and utter control over the masses. I do not think the people specifically behind this will meet much opposition from the rest of the Ministry when they reveal their plans."
"I see," Harry said, his mind racing. He stared into the fire, absently stroking Nagini who had inconspicuously coiled up on his knees after Voldemort had released her.
"Why do you care?" Voldemort asked suddenly and Harry looked up, surprised.
"Care about what?"
"About what's happening in the Ministry, you foolish boy. I'm sure you're not scared for the well-being of my Death Eaters or even my own war against them. Then why?"
Harry paused, considering the question. Voldemort was right. Harry's war was against Voldemort, was it not? He was or had been, the Chosen-One, destined to defeat the Dark Lord... not some kind of superhero, always needing to jump to the rescue no matter what. Then why indeed...
"Because there's people I care about that can get hurt if the Ministry has its way. The Order may just be an organization for you but for me it's the closest I have to a family. Not to mention the thought of countless other people having to live under such a rule doesn't sit right with me either."
"You are an honourable fool," Voldemort replied, scowling.
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "At least I'm honourable."
"But what makes you think I would allow you to play a role in stopping the Ministry? Do not forget-"
"-that I'm your bloody horcrux? and that being thus I'm more or less your prisoner-cum-slave? Yeah, I've heard that tirade more times than I've needed to, thanks."
Voldemort looked shocked (as much as was possible for the usually impassive man) and Harry leaned forward in his seat, taking advantage of it. "If what you're saying is true, then realize that I want the Ministry's downfall now as much as you do. You know you can use me to muddy the Ministry's image in the eyes of the people and for once, I won't object. You need me... and I'm more than happy to oblige."
Voldemort recovered immediately and said with a sneer, "My... your words make it seem as though you're almost accepting of being my... what was it? Yes, prisoner-cum-slave."
"Well, I'm not the only one being agreeable today. I would never have expected to get that much information out of you," Harry said, voicing something that had been bothering him since the beginning of their conversation.
"And your expectations were correct. You have been given this information because I wanted it so, not because you were able to get anything out of me," Voldemort said arrogantly and Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Though I must admit that I've also willingly told you all of this to gauge your reaction better."
"And why does my reaction matter?"
Voldemort looked at Harry thoughtfully before answering, "You have always been kept in the dark about things, have you not? Dumbledore never really did see it fit to reveal things to you as he himself learned them. I merely found myself curious of what you make when given information beforehand."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "I know what you're trying to do and it won't work. Just because you've told me what's going on does not make you any more favourable in my eyes than before."
"I would have been surprised if it did," said Voldemort simply. "But for now, enough. My true reason for calling you here was something else..."
The large grandfather clock in the foyer struck three as Harry continued his trudge up the large staircase of Malfoy Manor. There had been no more talk of the Ministry's plans or even any other future plans during the rest of his time in Voldemort's presence. Why the Dark Lord had actually called him had come as a bit of a surprise to him actually.
Prior to that meeting a fortnight ago, during days where Voldemort had left him alone and had not called any more of his tiresome meetings, Harry had usually spent his time either raiding the Malfoys' impressive library or bickering with Malfoy. However it had soon become evident that there was only so much he could read – he was not Hermione – and that there was only so much he could bother Malfoy especially when, he was a bit loathe to admit, that they starting to get along. At these times, when his two forms of entertainment failed him, Harry would have no choice but to give in to his more depressing, melancholic thoughts.
Harry Potter was not someone who was used to doing nothing. His years at Hogwarts had hardly allowed him rest, so much so that at the time he would have found the current dilemma of having nothing to do oddly inviting. His time at the Dursleys was the closest he had ever felt to how he was feeling now but still, even his stays with his uncle and aunt hadn't instilled in him the pure, fearful feeling of hopelessness.
So he was surprised when Voldemort, either picking up on how he was feeling himself (which was unlikely) or having been told by his far more receptive familiar, had decided that Harry should continue to expand his abilities as a duellist and in other arts of war.
When Harry had asked him why, Voldemort had merely alluded that Harry's role in the war would no longer be confined to that of a self-sacrificing martyr. Though the comment had initially caused Harry to leave the study in a huff and self-righteous anger, the truth behind the words was something he could not ignore.
The war that had rekindled when Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron three years ago had only gotten grimmer, especially with the new, far more active role that the Ministry was playing. The wizarding world was being pushed further into turmoil and there seemed to be no easy or clear way out. Even the sides of the war, usually so well defined, were getting muddled and confused. Light wizards were oppressing the masses and dark wizards were enlisting the help of the Boy-Who-Lived to bring down the Ministry...
Harry had long since accepted that his role in the war would never be something trivial. Thinking back, he felt that perhaps it would have been the easiest if he had actually been able to sacrifice himself during the battle and gotten rid of a piece of Voldemort's soul for good. But given the current circumstances, dwelling on what could have been was worthless... and it was perhaps with that in mind that Harry had actually started taking advantage of the fact that for once in his life, he would be taught how to fight and defend himself.
And of course, there was also something immensely satisfying about being able to hoist up Draco Malfoy by his ankle and leave him flailing in midair, screaming useless oaths until he remembered the counter-curse to Severus Snape's memorable spells.
It was with a smile at that memory that Harry pushed open to the room he shared with his school-enemy. He took off his cloak the moment he was inside and mopped his brow. The early July weather was turning hotter by the minute and going around beneath the cloak made Harry breathless and sweaty.
Draco was lounging on the couch, pouring over some volume on healing. It was their latest endeavour, something they were learning with the help of none other than Draco's mother. Thankfully, their last lesson had taken place the previous evening and Harry was glad he wouldn't have to spend an hour beneath the cloak today while Narcissa went on into painful details about the finer points of healing.
"Where were you?" asked Malfoy from behind his book, sounding irate as usual.
Harry shrugged at the question, depositing his cloak on the dresser and flopping down on the bed.
"You really shouldn't slip past me like that... I'm supposed to watch you."
Harry rolled his eyes at Malfoy's mother-hen tone and said, "You should keep a better watch then. Your stealth skills are lacking, young lord Malfoy."
It was Harry's new name for him and one that annoyed the other to no end. Turns out that Malfoys were actually so pompous that the house-elves around the manor were to address them as Lord or Lady Malfoy. Harry had nearly pissed himself laughing when a house-elf had disapparated into the room a few weeks ago, asking Malfoy if he should 'prepare the young lord's bath'.
"Shut up, Potter."
Harry sighed and asked, "Why're you so worried anyway? There's no one in the manor... the whole place is dead."
"Oh I don't know? Maybe 'cause It's my bloody job," Malfoy said disdainfully, still behind his book.
"Any word from your other uh, usual house-guests?"
Draco looked up, setting his book aside finally. Moving his pale fringe out of the way he sighed. "No, nothing from them yet. I'm glad to have the manor back to myself – for the most part," he added with a nasty glare at Harry, "but it still means things aren't looking up for us either."
Harry nodded from the bed, although Malfoy couldn't see anything of him apart from his legs dangling off the edge.
The other Death Eaters, those that hadn't been identified by the Ministry yet, had been asked to return to their homes by Voldemort in order to keep up appearances. With some of their usual presences and others' frequent visits, Malfoy Manor was left oddly quiet and empty. Harry, who had only seen it while it had been filled to the brim with prowling Death Eaters and the like, now found that it's emptiness only added to his gloom.
The Malfoys themselves were quite worried. Although the manor itself had been made unplottable after Lucius Malfoy's imprisonment and subsequent breakout, Narcissa Malfoy and Draco were still expected to keep up with appearances. As such, 'Lady Malfoy' was already forced to show up from time to time at the Ministry as well as keep up correspondence with other notable names of the wizarding society.
Harry had started to feel a grudging admiration for the woman. Not only was she housing the Dark Lord in her house, she was also playing the role of a perfect pure-blooded lady of an old family. She also, he had come to realize, had an uncharacteristically good relationship with her son and very obviously loved both her husband and him dearly.
Added with the fact that he was forced to spend almost every waking minute with Draco and had many of his lessons with his mother, Harry was slowly finding that enslavers of his old friend Dobby were... growing on him – although that was stretching the truth as far as it went. He didn't like them any better and still disliked Lucius immensely. Still, Draco and his mother weren't too bad.
"Hey Potter?" Draco called from the sofa quietly.
"What?"
"Did he... Are you sure he didn't say anything else the last time you talked to him?"
Harry sat up on the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. Draco was sitting upright on the sofa now, looking at him grimly.
The question was something Harry had answered almost completely many times. He didn't think Voldemort would be too happy if he told Malfoy about the Unbreakable Vows and he himself didn't think that was such a good idea since it would only cause panic. But, even without knowing what exactly the Ministry was doing, it was becoming obvious to Draco that pure-bloods, and especially proud, idiotic Slytherin pure-bloods, were somehow in danger. That, added with the fact that Voldemort hadn't yet taken any visible action against the Ministry, was enough to make the blonde-haired boy extremely worried for him and his mother.
It hadn't taken long for Malfoy to accept that Harry was somehow 'special' when it came the Dark Lord. He had been thoroughly shocked the day Voldemort had cruciated Bellatrix, not at all expecting Harry to return to their room unscathed and without being tortured himself. Since then he had silently accepted the fact that Harry was 'important' and Harry had been surprised to note that unlike the jealousy the other boy had harboured for him while at Hogwarts, Draco now seemed to almost sympathize with him.
"I've told you... He wouldn't tell me anything, only that he isn't to happy with what's going on at the Ministry." Harry said, sounding like a broken record after what was, to him, his umpteenth repetition of some variation of the same words.
Malfoy scowled. "Well, of course he isn't happy. The Ministry still hasn't quit it's harping about your tragic death and they're using that to win over most of the bloody idiots that live in our world. It's pathetic."
"It's a good enough strategy," Harry said, shrugging. "Though I don't much like their methods either."
"Ah, how could I have forgotten," Malfoy sneered. "You'd much rather be on their side than ours."
Malfoy of course knew nothing about why Harry was forced to work with Voldemort but Harry had made it pretty clear that he was actually forced.
"I honestly feel like I'm on no one's side. I just want this war to somehow end... it's gone on for far too long." Harry gazed off, gloomy mood settling in once again.
Malfoy got up and stretched, brushing off imaginary dust from formal shirt and trousers. Harry had been amused to note that if Malfoy wasn't wearing robes, the most muggle clothing he ever wore were always just shirt and trousers – never a jeans and t-shirt.
"Well, I'm sure 'no one' will be pretty glad to have the infamous scarhead on his side," Malfoy said with a smirk. "Now if you're done being all tragic and gloomy, how about a game of chess until dinner?"
Harry rolled his eyes but did not remind the other that it had actually been him that had started the depressing conversation. Instead, Harry got up, glad to have something to keep him mind busy until dinner.
xxx
'You have been ssssummoned..."
Both Harry and Malfoy jerked back in their chairs at the hiss, though only one understood the meaning behind it. Their game of chess had gone long into the evening and they had left it in place to wolf down dinner before rushing back up to finish it.
Malfoy was more or less on par with Harry's skill in chess, with neither of them being a wiz at it like Ron or being as pathetic at it as Hermione. Equally matched, their games were rather long and interesting, with many oaths and 'Aha!'s in between.
Malfoy had just about cornered Harry's king when Nagini had slipped unnoticed into the room, straightened her coiled body enough to look over the coffee table they were playing at and hissed out her message.
Malfoy had thankfully gotten used to her presence enough that he did not flip the table in shock at the hiss, but had still gone pale at the sudden intrusion.
"What's she saying?" Malfoy asked a bit nervously, shifting back in his chair.
"He's called," Harry replied, hastily standing up and summoning his cloak. Putting it on, Harry checked his reflection momentarily in the mirror, to see if his face was sufficiently covered. Then, with a nod to Malfoy and quick mutter that this game was his, Harry left the room followed by Nagini.
Harry found his heart racing at the prospect of another meeting with Voldemort but didn't bother to think too much of it at present. He knew he would obsessively go over every word and look exchanged during the meeting at night anyway, so there was no point in worrying himself in advance.
Flushing and feeling a bit disgusted at the thought, Harry took a deep breath as he reached the door of the study and waited for Nagini to announce his arrival.
"Enter," came the quiet permission and Harry pushed open the door, blinking at the sudden darkness in the room.
Voldemort had finally deemed the days hot enough to not keep a fire going but the windows remained firmly shut, curtains drawn. A low lamp lit the desk but otherwise the room was in darkness and Harry looked around, not seeing the bright crimson eyes anywhere.
The soft click of the door shutting behind him made him jump and he whirled around to find himself face-to-face with Voldemort, who had been standing just behind the door.
The unnatural closeness between them bothered Harry and he felt heat creep up to his face. He took a hesitant step backwards, only to have the yew wand pressed firmly to his cheek with the flash of a pale hand.
"Does the darkness make you nervous, Harry?" Voldemort asked softly, digging the wand deeper into Harry's cheek.
Harry turned his head automatically to the side, fighting with himself to remain calm. "N-No..." he finally breathed, though he did not know why he kept his voice quiet. It almost seemed as though the darkness demanded it, as did their sudden, dangerous closeness.
The wand fell away from his cheek, replaced by Voldemort's mouth coming less than an inch close to his ear. "You're lying..."
Harry shuddered at the warm breath that made the sensitive skin of his ear tingle, making the cloth of his hood flutter beside him. A chuckle sounded from beside him in response, closer to his shoulder now.
Voldemort slowly straightened up, moving his hand in an arc above Harry's head to lower his hood. With the slight barrier of the cloth lifted from the front of his eyes, Harry found his gaze locked with Voldemort's and for a moment they stood in silence...
A meaningless hiss later, Nagini nudged Harry's arm and made him jump, slithering up his body slowly to have her head resting on his shoulder. Harry broke away from Voldemort's unblinking eyes to glance at Nagini, his cheek pressing against her smooth snout.
"She certainly has taken a liking to you," Voldemort said, reaching a hand forward to stroke the opposite side of Nagini's head. His long fingers did not even slightly brush against the clothed skin of Harry's shoulder but Harry found himself tensing, heart erratic.
Forcing himself to relax, Harry teased in parseltongue, "Jealous?"
"Perhaps a bit..." Voldemort conceded. "She watches you day and night... It's amused me greatly to see your devotion, Nagini. You haven't even asked to be fed."
Harry blinked at this, surprised. Before he could say so, Nagini hissed, "This manor containsss sssufficccient ratsss to sssoothe me. But I will have to leave sssoon..."
Voldemort ceased his stroking and Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Go now, then. But return swiftly."
Harry involuntarily arched his back as she slithered off of him, the sensation of her scales on his cloaked skin feeling oddly ticklish but pleasant. Voldemort's eyes followed Nagini's path down his body and out the door, before he slipped past Harry to stand at the window.
It was dark out tonight, a new moon, and Voldemort's face was only further thrown into shadows. Harry's eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and he found the stool he had used before and sat down.
"Read this."
A pamphlet of neat, folded parchment floated to rest in Harry's hands. Harry opened it and clicked his tongue impatiently. He could barely make out any words in the darkness.
Rummaging through his cloak, Harry pulled out the Elder Wand (he still refused to call it his) and cast a hasty Lumos. A sudden bright light filled the entire room and Harry quickly twisted his wrist, to tone down the intensity of the light emitting from the end of his wand.
"You have yet to learn how to control the intensity of the spells you cast with that wand," Voldemort said from the newly formed shadows.
"I know," Harry said a bit shortly. "I don't realize how much force I end up putting into the spell before I've already cast it."
He stared the glowing light then continued with a small sigh, "It's not like my old wand... It had seemed to effortless to use magic with it."
"Wrong," Voldemort said and Harry looked up, confused. "There was only so much power your old wand could handle. Thus, no matter how much force you put behind a spell, it would act the same in the end. The wand you carry now has the ability to utilize every ounce of power you put behind your magic... it is what makes it so special."
"So you mean wands limit the wizard? And this one doesn't?"
"In a way..." Voldemort said quietly. "But for now, read."
Harry wanted to discuss the wand further, only knowing that it was powerful and not knowing why but he looked down to the pamphlet obediently all the same. There were many things that Harry wanted to know from Voldemort. For now, he would settle for the ones the man was willing enough to share, rather than squabble over what he wasn't.
Help Fight Against the Dark! Pay your due to our world and the Ministry of Magic!
He raised his brows at the words and jerked the paper with one hand to open it, his other hand holding his lit wand over it. Harry's eyes scrolled down the page, becoming wider the more he read. When he finished, it was with an oath.
"I disagree with the choice of your words, but not with the sentiment."
Harry rolled his eyes. "What kind of a Dark Lord doesn't swear..."
"The kind that doesn't feel the need to resort to foul language to release his frustrations."
Harry huffed. "So tomorrow..."
"Yes, tomorrow."
"How are we to get in?" Harry asked, scanning over the page once more.
"Slip through with the people attending," Voldemort replied, still staring out the dark window.
Harry frowned. "There is any easier way, you know."
"Is that so?"
"There is a path... from the Shrieking Shack that goes directly to the grounds. It comes out at the Whomping Willow – it's this violent tree-"
"I am familiar with the species of the tree, but not with this shack," Voldemort said, cutting him off.
"You don't know the Shrieking Shack? It's only the most haunted building in Britain – though I admit that's actually a farce. Not to mention you killed a person there..."
"Snape, you mean. Yes, I remember the building, though I had never heard the name. Severus merely suggested it as a place for a hideout and I accepted."
"Great," said Harry moodily. "So I've given away another method on how you can get into Hogwarts."
"I don't have need to make use of secret passageways to get into the school, so do not worry yourself." Voldemort said.
"Why ever not? It'll take us directly to grounds. We can sneak out to the tomb from there, get what we need to and escape unseen," Harry said with a sinking feeling in his heart. He knew it wouldn't be as simple as that.
"It is not as simple as that." Voldemort said and Harry muttered an 'I knew it' under his breath.
"You caught on fairly quickly that I would want breech Hogwarts tomorrow... you did not think of the reason why?" Voldemort asked, his voice mockingly soft.
"I knew there was a reason. I suppose you want to attend this address?" Harry asked, gesturing to the pamphlet. "Why not just sent a Death Eater in your stead though? Aren't they supposed to do your dirty work?"
Voldemort's crimson eyes, still visible to Harry from where he sat, narrowed. "There is another small task I need to take care of."
"Which is?" Harry asked interestedly, knowing it would be important if Voldemort himself would want to do it.
"None of your concern."Voldemort said abruptly. "If you insist that we make use of this passageway than we must arrive before any of the Ministry officials. We will apparate to Hogsmeade village tomorrow morning."
"What about a disguise?"
"I will place a concealment charm on your scar as well as a Confunding haze around your face. Neither will be revoked unless I do it myself."
"Wouldn't it be safer to change my appearance completely though?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"It will suffice," Voldemort said swiftly.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "What about your own disguise? I daresay a concealment charm won't be all you need."
"Do not worry about me," Voldemort said. "My disguise will be unrecognizable. Meet me at the gates of the manor tomorrow morning. Tell Draco you are leaving with my permission... but tell nothing of this to anyone else."
Harry nodded. "Is that all then?"
Voldemort stepped away from the ledge of the window and came to stand in front of Harry. A pale finger folded to cup his chin, raising his face to meet Voldemort's eyes.
Flushing against his wish, Harry returned the gaze steadily. His eyes widened when Voldemort said after a moment, "You are anxious about tomorrow."
Harry feared for a moment that Voldemort had somehow gained access to his brain. He hadn't felt any pain though and it hadn't really been his anxiety about tomorrow that had been running through his brain at the time, so Harry deduced that Voldemort had merely guessed.
"Well, of course I am," Harry said scoffing and moving his face away. "Who knows what we'll find out about the prophecy tomorrow..."
"I can only think that it will be different from what was. Perhaps you will not feel the need to die after it..."
Harry shook his head, standing up. "That's not what worries me."
"So you are still prepared to?" Voldemort asked softly. There was something unfathomable in his eyes and it made Harry's heart twist slightly.
"To kill you, yes," Harry said, looking firmly into the crimson eyes.
Voldemort released a slow breath and moved away from him. Turning himself to face the window again, Voldemort said, "Your courage has always amazed me, Harry. But keep in mind your conviction may change..."
Harry shook his head, though Voldemort could not see him. "It won't change. You killed my parents... nothing changes that."
Voldemort was quiet for so long that Harry had begun fidgeting on his feet. When he finally spoke, it was with an old, cold hiss that Harry had found oddly absent in the man's voice in their past few encounters.
"Sleep. You are in need of it."
Harry nodded again, unseen and tugged on his hood. Opening the door with a click, he left the room without looking back.
xxx
A/N: I do spend most of my A/N's apologizing, don't I? Please forgive my lack of updates. I won't make any promises but hopefully this summer should give a rise to my frequency of updating.
I'm a bit worried. Does the slight slash really seem too sudden? I got that feeling while reading (the otherwise amazing) reviews. This chapter may or may not have explained things. Help out this misleading and idiot of an author by telling me if it is will you?
Also, I am editing previous chaps. It's hard to keep a story in track when I find myself loathe to even look at what I've previously written. Therefore I require help and I need a beta! If interested, please message. Possible jobs (hazards) include: Working with an author that likes to disappear off the face of the earth, reading/editing terrible first drafts of chapters, having to edit not only this but Conversations and Retributions as well (sorry, I want one person for them) and possibly dying of laughter when reading my attempt at a lemon. :P
Oh and don't worry, you'll find out exactly what's up at Hogwarts/pamphlet contents next chapter.
Quick review replies:
Real Prophecy – next chap sweethearts. We're going to Hogwarts!
Nagini – Like how she's communicating now? I like her, so she'll play an important role. I just don't like overly talkative snakes. She's as untrusting as Riddle so she'll take some time to open up.
Voldemort/Harry – They are kindred spirits aren't they?... You'll find that that'll turn out to be a lot more relevant come future chaps.
Ministry – A tired, power-hungry government that wants control. Nothing new, but interesting to work with nonetheless.
Rucksack – Oh you observant reader you :D He lost/left behind his rucksack because I imagine he would drop everything onto the ground as he approached the pensive. And obviously LV didn't allow him to pick anything up when he kidnapped him.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend – Damn it all. You people are way too smart... ('tis a complement)
Alright that's it for now. Thanks for reading and please review.