Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! And to those who didn't, well, join the love!
FanFictionLover: I wrote the 'begging' part just for you, actually. I wanted to see how you would react, hehe.
Guest: I got the idea for this story while I was reading Prince of the Dark Kingdom, actually. I did see IAMGINNY's story afterwards, and thought "ah, no, my idea is already been done.", but her take on it was quite different, I think.
Reader-anonymous-writer: I think Harry's Occlumency shields are more latent. He meditates every night before sleeping and they protect his mind from intrusion without him noticing. I also think that Parsel Magic shouldn't be as easy to master as a simple "thought-command" like it is in some other fanfics. If Harry discovers Parsel Magic, it will be by doing research or by...asking Voldemort about it? Ouhhh, we shall see.
Warning: mild sexual content.
Chapter 9: 1996-1997: Of dreams and meetings
The best kind of dreams are the ones where you know you are dreaming, because then, you can change their flow at will. For instance, if you are having a nightmare about being chased by acromantulas, and you suddenly realise that it's just a dream, you can decide to turn around and fry them with the power of your mind, or to fly away from them without the help of a broom. You can also decide that you are fed up with then whole 'having nightmares business' and that you would rather have nice dreams about eating a whole pastry shop by yourself and suddenly, boom, a pastry shop appears just for you.
Most of my dreams, however, are about defending myself from numerous attacks, beating people up and killing my enemies, whoever they are. How could it be any different when my days were filled with nothing but magical training, physical training, spying on meetings, worrying about said spying, training with Sirius, talking with Sirius, training with Moody (a novelty that I wasn't sure I appreciated), worrying about "The Task" after being thoroughly trashed by said man and cracking a book from time to time about (what else?) Defense or defensive use of Charms, Transfiguration, Potions and any other discipline under the sun that could be closely or remotely applicable to combat situations.
Don't get me wrong, I was quite grateful that the Rebels took so much of their time to train me and it did make me feel better about my chances against Voldemort in the long run. However, I wasn't surprised when my enemies in my dreams progressively turned into crippled old aurors with magical eyes whizzing around.
And what I learned during my spying sessions didn't really help ingratiate the guy into my good graces either.
Apparently, he thought that I was a lazy, incompetent and unreliable boy, too impressionable to go on raids and too immature to sit on their meetings, despite Sirius' insistence that I should be included.
Such a judgment on his part would not have bothered me if it hadn't been from Neville. That one, according to Moody, was a precious gem. Hard-working (on his garden) and loyal (pliable), competent enough to go on a raid (and obey his commands without question) and mature enough to assist them in planning (and too shy to say a word in front of the other rebels or to object against anything), Neville followed the lead without asking questions and without once lifting his eyes from the ground.
When I started spying on the meetings a couple of months ago, I quickly learned some vital truths about the Rebels and their organisation.
First of all, Moody is the leader and if you have a problem against it, you can shove it.
Second of all, Moody doesn't like insubordination and only the former members of the Order of the Phoenix could place valid objections against his plans. But only Sirius dared to contradict him on a regular basis, really.
Third of all, the Rebels aren't comprised of just the people in this camp. It's an ever-expanding underground network of contacts, alliances, shady deals and old debts waiting to be repaid. Most of the meetings are about managing this network, and not about planning raids as I thought initially.
Fourth of all, as I'd learned with Tonks, if you leave the organisation, as far as Moody is concerned, you are no better than dead.
Fifth of all, the reason why nobody had Muggle jobs is because Moody thought it would bring too much attention to their location, even when everyone could apparate in or out.
Sixth of all, and lastly, they appeared to be vaguely searching for objects linked to the Dark Lord's past. Albus Dumbledore himself (the leader of the Light who died on Victory Day, April 3rd 1984), supposedly, had entrusted this mission to Moody and the latter refused to say anything of it, except for asking people to gather information about the Dark Lord's youth and about any objects that could be dear to him. To say that I learned quite a lot about my "ultimate enemy" during those meetings is an understatement.
Most of it, however, contradicted itself.
The Rebels and their network had managed to unearth all the dirt possible and imaginable on the man. For instance, his former snake-like appearance supposedly came from a curse sent to him by a scorned witch who had surprised him in a "compromising position" with his pet snake, Nagini.
She allegedly said: "If you like snakes so much, you disgusting scum, you can become one!" And Magic, who heard her, agreed with the witch and made him so.
Another story said that he still kept his rattle, the Royal Rattle passed through Slytherin line for generations, safely under his pillow every night to remind himself of days were everything were simpler.
There were also a lot of tales about his sexual life, ranging from monumental orgies, to harems, to an actual line of girls waiting in the corridor next to his bedroom every night, to having a throng of slaves that he raped every night, as painfully as possible, to being as much of a sadist in bed as he was in the battlefield, to, in fact, being such a sadist in life to compensate for severe erectile dysfunctions, or to being incredibly submissive in bed to escape, at last, all the pressure of being in charge in his life. And those theories were the most probable of a long list of possible sexual perversions and peculiar lifestyle.
The truth was that nobody had any idea of his sexual life.
No one even knew his sexual orientation. Not one lucky witch or wizard had ever been known for being even his temporarily lover, or had ever accompanied him to any official function.
The idealists said that he was still pinning about the love of his life that had tragically died at some point decades ago.
The realists said that he made his lovers sign contracts of non-disclosure before taking them to his bed.
Moody wasn't interested about the Dark Lord's sex life, except for if there was someone he could capture and use for ransom or if there was a strange kink with which he could lure the man in a trap.
Hence the long list of scandalous, empty gossips.
At some point, Sirius, who couldn't bear hearing the women of the group speculate about Voldemort's size any longer, inadvertently made one of the only good suggestions of the bunch when he said: "I really don't want to know how a slimy Slytherin uses his wand, his snake or his family jewels!"
The three aforementioned objects were evaluated. And judged worthy of further research.
One day, Moody arrived to the meeting with a stack of parchment he had found when he had recently gone and pilfered the last hidden shelter of Albus Dumbledore.
The man's notes on the life of Tom Marvolo Riddle painted the tragic story of a half-blood orphan of the line of Slytherin himself who grew up miserably in a Muggle orphanage. According to the old Headmaster of Hogwarts, the boy was somewhat of a magical prodigy and a masterful manipulator until the Dark Arts progressively ensnared him and stole his sanity and his humanity.
In the evening where these note were read, I had lain on the grass letting the words wash over me as I imagined a younger Voldemort, full of bitterness and ambition, fight his way to the top of the Wizarding World.
Hestia had been the one to read them out loud, but I heard them in the smooth and powerful voice of the man about which they were written.
I imagined myself sitting in an armchair in a room shrouded in the dark, the dwindling life of a dying fire lighting half of the Dark Lord's face as he wove for me the tale of his youth, his eyes never breaking away from mine.
.
That night, in my bed, I dreamt of strong masculine hands roaming my body and pulling me closer to a muscular chest, of sensuous lips kissing me deeply, exploring every corner of my mouth before latching on my neck and marking me and of ruby-red eyes looking into my soul as I discovered a new world of sensations.
And, for once, I didn't fight to regain control of my dreams.
.
Quite short, I know^^ Sorry for those who wanted a longer slash, you'll have to wait a bit longer for it, hehe. I did add a bit to it (imagine how short it was before, then!), but I didn't think that a longer slash part would work well at this point of the story, so I stayed pretty vague.
This chapter was a bit of a transitional chapter, to make Harry grow up, as I said last time. Next chapter, the story will progress forward and it does have some more slash action in it, I think you'll like it.
Thank you in advance to everyone who reviews! I really, really appreciate it, guys. :D