'And when man faces destiny, destiny ends and man comes into his own.'
~ Andre Malraux
The earthy smell of rotten wood greeted his senses, and he inhaled a lungful, pushing himself up of the marshy ground, stumbling slightly as he tried to gain his bearings. The forest was old, the trees gnarled and knotted, the marks a symbol of the passage of time. Foliage littered the forest floor, the leaves damp and yellowing, the nutrients escaping the dying vessel and back into the ground. In a way it reminded Harry of a cemetery, the old trees taken down by younger ones, their bodies left to decompose and feed their conquerors.
It was quiet. The air was still, almost stagnant, the type of air that had been confined for a long time, compressed between the pages of history. Looking up, he saw the night sky peering through the canopy, the first speckle of stars glinting, and shining so much brighter than he had ever seen, and a ridiculous part of his brain wanted to say they looked younger.
On all sides were trees. Even with his advanced eyesight he couldn't see a way out of the woods. Claustrophobia settled in, and he wondered where Tom was, his last memory having been lying content in his arms. Walking aimlessly, he was greeted by older, and more sinister looking trees. The branches hovered low, like claws trying to grab him, and prevent him from breaching the forest further. Looking back, he no longer saw the clearing in which he had awoken, and he wasn't even sure what direction it was in anymore.
Despair cloaked him, painting over his skin, and chilling him, yet still he walked on. His footsteps were the only thing he could hear, the rest of the forest remaining silent despite the intrusion. Old stones began to crop up, on their faces were markings that Harry couldn't even hope to decipher. It reminded him slightly of Elfish, but less elegant, more brutally cut into the stone. Harsher.
It was soon after this he saw them. Two figures sat on either side of a tree stump, a chess board between them, and identical looks of concentration on their faces. The one playing the black pieces was beautiful. Her face was porcelain, and looked as if it had been crafted by angels themselves. Her red eyes bore into her opponents. They were educated eyes, filled with intelligence and forethought, yet she still had a number of pawns already taken out of the game. A black mist encased her, an aged, almost claw-like hand moving pieces thoughtfully across the board exuding from it, and the only visible feature apart from her exquisite face, both contrasting, and yet also seemingly natural and expected in relation.
Her opponent was sheathed in an almost blinding white light. Her face too was serene, her eyes amber, and appearing as clever as her opponent. Blood red lips were moistened as she moved one of her remaining three pawns, her hand also gnarled, and holding the pieces with the very tips of her fingers, almost as if they weren't good enough to have more contact with her.
Both players had a grace that Harry knew had been learnt through years of practice. Their faces, although angelic, were also masks, the hands giving more a clue of what they looked like, if they indeed had a form at all.
Approaching them, he felt as if he was moving through a marsh, his gait slowing considerably as his limbs got heavier and heavier by the seconds. Still, he was almost there when he felt a hand wrap around his shoulder, keeping him from reaching his target.
Wheeling around, he saw his captor was an old woman. Her face was lined heavily, and her eyes piercing his, searching the depths of them for something that was apparently of extreme importance to her. Thin lips were contorted into a line, and she gave the impression of being both severe and powerful all through her search, until, finally, she relaxed, a small smile gracing her stern features.
"Harry," she said warmly, her voice soft, almost like a grandmother, and he felt himself be embraced for a moment, before scrutinised in such a way that his only thought was of Mrs Weasley.
"Who are you?" he asked, turning slightly to see the players. Apparently they hadn't noticed this woman appear, and they gave no indication of seeing him…
"I have always been with you, Harry," smiled the woman, and she turned to gaze at the players also. "They see your realm as mere chess pieces, I know differently. Every time I add a new thread to my loom, I see the repercussions, I know the consequences of such an action, and yet that is how things are meant to be."
"You're Fate?" Harry asked, wishing he could just pinch himself. Surely this wasn't real…
"Why of course I am, and you are one of my children. If it wasn't for me you wouldn't be here, I've made you who you are," Fate gave him a grin, and Harry felt very much like a son being appraised by a proud mother.
"Can't you stop this then?" asked Harry, gesturing to the players.
"Heavens no, I can only guide, not everything is predetermined you know," scolded Fate, and Harry ran a shaking hand through his hair.
"Then why am I here?"
"To show you you have a choice," replied Fate, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"I've already made it," said Harry, and the darker player's eyes flashed to him, a smile appearing before her attention was turned back to the game.
"Not your allegiance you silly boy," laughed Fate, the merry sound brightening up the woods a little.
"Then what…" started Harry.
"You will see," interrupted Fate. "You have seen this, you know there are higher forces are at work, but General's can only act if their troops do, and you are one important soldier if I do say so myself. Now son, this will be the only time we meet, I will aid the best I can, but it all hangs on your decision."
"What decision?" Harry was getting impatient now, his eyes narrowing at the old woman.
"You will see," she repeated, a mysterious glint in her eyes, "Now, farewell, and remember, balance must be restored."
He awoke sweating, a sensation he hadn't felt since before his transformation. Breathing heavily, he looked to his left and realised Tom hadn't awoken, most probably having used the last of his strength to carry him to their bed.
Fate, had he really met her? A shocked laugh escaped him, quiet in the small chamber, but enough to make his partner stir, and remind him that he must be quieter.
Tom looked serene. Peacefulness that looked almost alien on his features made a warmth uncurl in Harry's chest, radiating out as he looked at his sleeping mentor and lover. He never had enough moments like this, moments when it seemed the world was properly aligned, not in the midst of a war beyond both sides understanding. Time seemed suspended, Fate cramming as many seconds into a minute as was possible, and Harry was thankful.
She had seemed genuinely nice, although he could see the lethality beneath the warm demeanour. This was a woman who had taken lives in the billions. A woman who was responsible for the world at large. Harry wondered what his tapestry would look like. Plenty of dark colours, he wasn't as much of an optimist to think his life had been anything but nice so far. Still, interspaced between the blues and blacks there would be purple. Tom's colour, and the hue of what his life seemed to be turning into.
Last night, he was Tom's, and Tom was his. They were both one and the same, and he knew that he would grow up in this world with Tom by his side for most of it. There would be times when they were separated, too far away to see, but even then they would know. A bond had been forged, and if Fate thought that it would be so easily separated for him to go to the Light, then she never knew him as well as she thought she did.
But didn't she say it wasn't about that?
At some point in his future there would be a decision that affected the outcome. He would only know this decision when it was about to be made, and the pressures of such knowledge wore heavily on his mind.
Glancing at Tom, taking in the even and contented breathing, he knew he couldn't rob his lover of his new found peace. This was a burden he would carry alone, full in the knowledge that at some point the could make a decision that would ultimately lead to the downfall of their cause. He and he alone could destroy this, and it sickened him to his core.
Too keyed up to sleep, he eased himself gently out of the bed. He thought he was doing well so far, but then he heard Tom yawn and froze, very much feeling as if he was caught doing something he shouldn't.
"Harry, are you alright?" Of course the first thing he thought of upon waking was Harry, it took the younger all he could not to roll his eyes. Surprisingly he felt only a little soreness, and sitting on the end of the bed, he threw Tom a grin.
"I'm fine, are you?" He knew he shouldn't feel insecure, but a small part of him felt utter terror at this question and the answer he would get momentarily.
"This is how I feel, Harry," said Tom, dark eyes pinning him in place. Numbly, he felt his lips being captured, and the strength of Tom's magic almost overpowered him. The jubilation, elation mingled with concern, and pride felt like it would knock him over. Tentatively his magic reached out, embracing the other. Fear, insecurities, pride, and joy mingled with Tom's, and as their lips melded together, he felt the current deepen, the river expanding to hold both, some bouncing off each other, and others joining so that they were magnified.
Contentment washed over him, and greedy fingers reached up to Tom's hair, feeling the silky strands move easily through his exploring touch. Tom's hands raked down his back, holding him securely to his chest, and making him feel like a giant cat, but most of all safe. Thoughts of Fate and his dream flew from his mind, and his only attention was Tom, his lover pouring everything into the kiss, showing the younger that no, he did not regret it, and he was so incredibly happy that he had no other outlet than him.
When they pulled apart, if anyone saw the identical grins on their faces they would have thought they had been imperiused. All masks had vanished, instead there was just pure elation, and together they laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls, filled with undiluted mirth even thought there had been no joke or instigator.
"I need to get back to school," said Harry finally, sobering up and realising that people would be missing him. It seemed like another life, another place in which another Harry went, not this one who had just made love to the Dark Lord.
"I will see you soon," promised Tom, placing a sweet kiss on his forehead.
"Harry!" Hermione's jubilant voice was the first thing he heard after he Phased. Part of him panicked. He was in the boys dormitory right? Then he realised that her face was peering out at him from Ron's hangings… He so didn't want to know what was going on there!
"Hermione," he replied weakly.
"Is Tom better?" Seeing his shocked face at her saying his name she quickly added, "We already had charms up."
Yep, did not need to know!
"He's fine," Harry wanted to slap himself when he felt a dopey grin form on his face.
"Uh huh," Hermione's eyes held too much amusement and happiness for Harry's liking, but he brushed it off. He never wanted details of her and Ron's sex life in the same way they never wanted details of his.
"Harry, an owl came with this for you," said Ron, pulling his hangings open, and pointing to a purple scroll on Harry's nightstand.
Unfurling it, Harry's eyes were met with the slanted writing that belonged to their Headmaster, and he felt his heart drop a little at the message.
Harry,
I wish to see you after dinner tonight, I have a fondness of pineapple chunks.
Dumbledore
A/N: I cannot apologise enough for the wait, and I thank you so much for the feedback, I know things have been going slowly with this story. University has started back up again, and so I'm pretty much drowning in coursework at the moment! Due to this, however, I cannot guarantee frequent updates, but I have my Easter break in about a month, so the next chapter - at the latest - will be up then. :) I know this chapter seems a little strange so please bear with me - although I guess this whole story is a tad mental anyway! Ron and Hermione will get more story time next chapter, but I felt there was too much in this one to add more - sorry about how short this is! Anyone who thinks I have/will abandon this story that will NOT happen! In the unlikely event that it is put on hiatus again you would be informed as well. :) I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and, although I don't deserve any, reviews will be appreciated! :)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter *sigh*
I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter.