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FanFiction Lover: That was a generic American Accent? It sounded more...regional than that but, like I said, I really don't know much about the different American accents. On another subject, I'm glad to read that you liked the interactions between Harry and Voldemort. More of that right now in this chapter! ;)

Enjoy!

Chapter 31: 1st of November 1997: New day

I woke to the feeling of a warm hand pressing on my back, trailing slowly downwards from my neck to the small of my back. I released a small grunt when I felt the magic transfer into my skin, infusing it with calming energy. I heard the rustle of clothes and felt the weight of the mattress shift beneath me. I jolted slightly when I felt him settle on my legs, his other hand joining the first and now massaging my back, working all the kinks out of it and washing away the stiffness in my muscles.

When the hands dipped down under my pyjama trousers, massaging the small of my back close to the cleft of my ass, I couldn't help the groan that escaped my lips or the gyrations of my hips, rubbing my newly awakened arousal on the mattress.

I sighed in pleasure, whispering "Oh, Merlin..."

I heard a deep chuckle coming from him. Of course, the smug bastard always loved to see and hear my reactions to everything he did.

"I'm better than Merlin, really. The man's power is just a tale. He was just a half-crazed druid that had smoked too much of his herbs when he decided to write his chronicles. What he said in there is unrealistic."

I rolled my eyes behind my closed eyelids. Really now, did I ask for the History lesson? He simply couldn't let false information pass before him without correcting it, no matter the occasion. Once, when we were testing the solidity of the bookshelves in his Library, he interrupted a rather enthusiastic dry humping session because he spotted two books that weren't placed in the right order in one of the rows.

He just had to go correct it or he would have obsessed about it and not be focussed on what we were doing at all. It was a bit insulting, really, but the man was an order-freak and nothing could be done about it now. I just had to bear with his strange quirks just like he had to with mine. For instance, no matter how many times he told me not to pull on his hair, I'd always end up with my two hands buried in it every time I climaxed. I did try not to pull on it too much, but I couldn't help but to close my hands tightly in the heat of the moment.

.

I sighed again. The Dark Lord had divine hands: long and agile fingers, a strong palm, and a slight roughness of the skin that just heightened the sensation of his touch. It was nearly unfair that he should be this good at giving massages when he probably hadn't practised often.

"Such soft skin you have..." he whispered nearly reverently. I snorted internally. That was another of his obsessions, even if it did make me feel quite flattered and desirable. I opened an eye, looking at him for the first time since I woke up.

The sight of him massaging me attentively, his long hair falling on both sides of his intense face as he eyed me hungrily, was enough to nearly make me moan out loud. I bit my lower lip as my eyes trailed on his naked torso, on the lean muscles shifting and tensing with the movement of his hands, on the dark trail of hair starting at his belly button and disappearing in his light pyjama trousers. I wanted him suddenly, desperately, immediately. But, before my body could act on those desires, I noticed the stress in his face, the dark bruises under his eyes, the caution in his gaze and it reminded me that I had reasons to be angry at him at the moment and that this massage was part of an apology which I hadn't accepted yet. For a moment, I thought of letting it go and giving him my forgiveness now, even if it would take a while before I could feel it sincerely. But I realised that if I did, it might set a precedent, and he might conclude that he could continue to lie to me and manipulate me without any consequences. It would make me look weak and pathetic.

He knew that one of the reasons our relationship had progressed this easily (minus the actual completion of 'the act'), was that I had come to believe him on the question of soul mates to a certain extent and to trust his word for it without having been able to conduct my own research about it. I suspected that he had taken the relevant books out of the library, after all, but I thought that it was because they would contain information on how to control the other mate, or some tricks of the kind.

He had had numerous occasions to confess his lie to me, like when our magic connected and he followed it to my body about a month ago. He hadn't. I had discovered it by myself. He would probably have kept the lie going as long as he could if I hadn't.

I exhaled slowly. Getting angry wouldn't do anything productive here. I had hidden things from him as well, like my understanding of Parseltongue, for instance. I tapped twice on his knee, so that he let me sit up. He climbed off me and went to sit at the head of his bed, his legs crossed in front of him. I settled at the bottom of the bed, right in front of him, my knees bent as I leaned back on the bed frame.

"Why the soul mate excuse?" I asked. Had I started the conversation with anything unrelated, it would have looked like an implicit forgiveness.

"They were too many signs of our link for me to be able to just...dismiss it completely," he explained carefully.

-You could have feigned ignorance," I challenged him.

"You needed a clear reason why I didn't want to kill you. Anything else than a connection equally powerful to this wouldn't have been motivation enough."

I thought about it for a while before I realised something.

"Did you just admit that you would have killed me had it not been from our soul link?"

He seemed hesitant, but then he sighed.

"To be perfectly honest, without knowing you like I do now, I wouldn't have hesitated to kill you. You just strolled in my life, you, the only one who, according to an infuriating but possibly right Prophecy, could destroy everything I have built throughout my life, and you challenged me to a Duel to death. Had you been anyone else, I would have killed you without hesitating in Lucius' study that evening. As it was, I think that the connection was already affecting me, even if I didn't know at the time that I was linked to you, and I had originally decided that I would give myself a few days to satisfy my curiosity. You...fascinated me like nobody else ever had. I had convinced myself that, after those few days, I would grow bored and get rid of you as if you were just a little nuisance. And then, of course, when I realised that you were my Horcrux, that night in Lucius' study...

-You knew already then?" I interrupted in surprise.

"I made the connection right after you were gone, in great part because of how touching you made my magic react. Anyway, I think that, if it weren't for the Horcrux connection then, I would have managed to convince myself to get rid of you. You had been a horrible distraction and you seemed like a useless risk to take with my life. I couldn't have let you go live in exile, or chained you to some wizard far away. You would have continued to haunt me, you and the Prophecy, because, as much as I am loathe to admit, and as much as I don't want to believe in ridiculous notions like Fate and Destiny, it still bothered me. However, knowing you like I do now...I know that you are not the vindictive hero I pegged you for. You are a pacifist at heart, even if you were forced into the role of a killer. I believe that, as long as I hadn't become an insane psychopath, you wouldn't have tried to go against me if I had made you swear an Oath of non-aggression like I did with the Longbottom brat. Am I wrong in thinking so?"

I shook my head, biting my lips. Even if it was a bit hard to hear him say that he would have killed me at first without the Horcrux link, I could understand his reasoning and I knew that he was telling me the truth at last. I cleared my throat.

"No, you're right. When I came to you, I was resolute. If I got out of that mess alive, I would have just...gone far away and never fought another battle in my life. Perhaps even...that I would have just lowered my wand altogether, abandoned Magic who saddled me with such a burden and joined the colourless and monotonous life of a Muggle. Did you know that Harry Potter is quite a common name in the Muggle world? Apparently, there are hundreds of Harry Potters in Great Britain only. I would have fitted in the crowd perfectly. I would have been...anonymous.

-You would have become a shadow of what you are currently. You were made for Magic. She loves you, She sings for you. Yesterday, when you were in your daze, She still protected you, even if your head was completely elsewhere; She made sure you were safe. Most of the shots I sent you to stun you or wrestle you down when you were attacking me just...evaporated when they came close to you. You dodged and blocked the only two that didn't because I overpowered them too much. An ordinary wizard wouldn't have been able to do that. You are one of her favourites. Just like I am."

I lifted my head quickly and held his gaze for a moment.

-Magic is sentient?" It was an endless scholarly debate in the Wizarding society. I had heard Severus and Lucius quarrel about it one evening when I was still at the Manor.

The Dark Lord smiled slightly.

"I like to think that She is...but I think that She doesn't have a conscience, per se. She just...reacts. She can grant Her favours to someone, only to take it back when they displease her.

-And you think She was favouring me even if I was behaving like a raving lunatic?

He smirked at my choice of terms, but returned to his pensive look.

"Perhaps she was still protecting me, since you are connected to me. You know, you were shooting me some pretty advanced curses then? I didn't think you'd know that much. There was even one in there that I only learnt of when I was around fifty years old. It was quite impressive, even if the delivery...and aim were a bit lacking."

I cringed a bit when I thought of how I shot the spells right and left. I didn't even remember what I used on him. Thank the gods...or Magic...that nobody was hurt! I snorted at the thought.

"What?" asked the Dark Lord. That was another of his quirks. Don't laugh in front of him if you are not prepared to tell him why you did.

"I just thought that I was relieved that nobody got hurt in our 'Duel' yesterday. It was rather ironical of me to think that when I supposedly wanted to kill you.

-Did you really want to kill me?

-No, not really...but...it hurt..." I shook my head at him. "It just hurt me so much when I heard that you had manipulated me like you did. Were you laughing at my expanse every time I smiled at you or kissed you, or what? Was that all part of a 'Master plan to keep the Horcrux from rebelling against you', or something like that?"

He sighed tiredly, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe at first. I did not laughed at you in my head or anything of the kind, however. I was pleased that you were as attracted to me as I was to you and eager to explore the link we had. I never consciously took the decision to manipulate you with anything sexual we did. I just did it because I wanted to. That's always been how it worked for me, all my life. I want; I take.

-Why didn't you, then?" I interrupted him.

He lifted an eyebrow in question.

"Why didn't you just have sex with me if you wanted to, following your philosophy.

-I consider what we did as having sex. Just because it didn't fit in the narrow convention of penetrative sex doesn't mean it was nothing. But anyway, you are right, I didn't act normally. Perhaps because you are my Horcrux and, as such, not easily dispensable like most of my previous lovers, perhaps because I wanted to give you some time, perhaps because I felt an unprecedented level of affection toward you, perhaps because I thought it would just hurt you more if I took your virginity under the pretence of being your soul mate."

I felt shocked to the core. My heart melted in my chest as I looked at that powerful man who had turned pointedly away from me as he spoke of feelings he might never had had before in his life. When he finished talking, he met my stare defiantly, as if daring me to question to truth behind his words. I didn't. I trusted him on that. My mind flashed to the oath of Truth he swore for five minutes the day before. He had told me then that he cared about me. It just hadn't registered until now.

I swallowed, silently pondering while watching the bedspread under us. After a moment, I lifted my gaze back to his and confessed:

"I care about you too...but you can't manipulate me again like you did. I know you'll lie by omission from time to time, it's inevitable, but I would like you to try to tell me the truth on things that concern me directly."

He nodded silently. The hour rang in the grandfather clock in his study. The Dark Lord sighed.

"I have a lot to do today. Yesterday's fiasco is far from over. I'll probably be gone most of the week...

-It's alright," I interrupted him. "I have studying to do any way. Did Remus talk to you about the dates we agreed on for the OWLs exams?

-18th of November, if I remember right," he stated.

I shot him a small smile. Of course he remembered. His memory was just too good sometimes.

"One day, I'll figure out how you can have a memory like an elephant."

He barked a laugh and swiftly got off the bed. He shook his head at me.

"Dark Magic and obscure rituals, no doubt. I did it years ago to remember crucial information such as the date of your OWLs, brat." He tried to ruffle my hair, but I grabbed his hand before it could do any damage. I tugged on it as I got up to my knees on the bed, facing him.

"Come down here a bit, oh great Dark Lord," I asked him a teasing tone.

He smirked pleasingly at me while he bent down his head to mine.

"Great Dark Lord, hum?" he said, not an inch away from my lips. "We're making progress. Perhaps I should wait until you call me "My Lord" before I take you at last..."

I shivered as his breath caressed my face.

"On the contrary, if you want me to call you "My Lord", you would at least have to claim me before, I'm afraid..." I replied, crossing the remaining distance and greedily devouring his lips. When my hands sneaked up to his hair and pulled him to me, I heard faintly a repressed moan coming from him. Hehe, so much for not liking me touching his hair, I thought. But my smugness quickly evaporated when I felt his hand trail on my lower back, right where the border of my pyjama pants was and start toying with the elastic band and the skin just underneath it.

Lower, lower, I thought frantically and I tried to press myself up to him. Sadly, the wooden footboard of the bed prevented me of much contact. It was unacceptable. I climbed up to my feet swiftly, changing the angle of the kiss quite radically before I leaned on the Dark Lord and wrapped my legs around his waist. His hands went under me, to support my weight, of course, and started kneading the flesh of my butt, fingers edging closer and closer toward the only place that he had left uncharted in his exploration of my body so far. I hummed lowly in approval and pressed myself up on him, kissing him with renewed vigour.

When the Dark Lord's clock rang for a second time, I was ready to ignore it, but he stopped and sighed resolutely.

"Harry, I have to go."

I considered whining. He might have discovered my plan, because he cut it short.

"Well, what do you think is more important, your sexual satisfaction, or the security and future of the Wizarding World?"

Well, when he put it like, I had no choice but to comply. I climbed down and got back on my feet.

He shook his head at me.

"Gryffindors," he said, snorting, before he swept out of the room.

.

o0o0o

That morning in Hogwarts brought an array of urgent owls swooping down on the breakfast tables to reach their clients. Newspapers were splayed open on the tabletops with startled gasps of horrors and shrieks of unexpected grief resonated through the Great Hall; news of the event of the day before had finally reached the students of the school.

A young woman sat alone on the corner of a table, her features set in a stony mask of indifference as she took in the gut-wrenching scream of pain and disbelief of one of her fellow students situated a few seats down to her left.

As she spotted the trembling of her hands and felt her brow moisten in cold sweat, she hurriedly stood up and marched out of the room as calmly as she could get herself to behave. Nobody had taught her how to face such critical situations with poise. Everything in her nature was stirring in horror at her behaviour and she had barely restrained herself from shouting in indignation when she had seen the picture gracing the cover of that day's edition of the Daily Prophet.

She climbed in a secluded alcove and barely had time to cast her complex privacy spells before the sobs wracked her frame violently. A single wail erupted from her chest before she curled on herself and wished for death.

She felt the burden of those lost lives weight on her soul and she let herself drown in misery for just a few instants. It would be minutes, at most, before she could compose herself again, surely...

.

Hours later, she was still lying in the alcove; her eyes wide open and dry, but unseeing. Her mind was whirling with dangerous and treacherous thoughts, but never stopping to contemplate them, thankfully. She had lifted her hands to her face and stared at them for the longest time. Perhaps she was trying to see the invisible blood tarnishing them and staining her candid soul.

.

o0o0o

Severus let himself collapse heavily in a chair around the meeting table. He had worked relentlessly at St. Mungo's for the past thirty hours and only managed to stay upright thanks to his special brew of Pepper-Up and his iron will. His usual grace demanded that he straightened up in the chair and adopted a more dignified posture, but he really couldn't be bothered at the moment.

The worst was that he was sure that, the minute he'd return to Hogwarts, he would be attacked by anxious owls and Floo-calls from distraught parents who somehow couldn't understand by themselves that the Ministry and Hogwarts were at quite a distance from one another and that, as such, the students hadn't fallen victim of this heinous attack.

For vile and cowardly this move had been.

He silently sent a prayer to the gods of Nature above for making the Dark Lord so paranoid and weary of the Muggles. Only them knew how much more of a disaster this would have been if it wasn't for the Dark Lord's special wards against Muggles explosives. As it was, Severus was quite surprised that they had worked so well, especially since they had only been experimental ones at best.

"Severus, how is St. Mungo's?" asked the Dark Lord in his usual commanding voice.

The Potions Master inclined his head forward in a gesture of respect before he answered his Lord's question.

"Frantic, as one would expect, but now stable and organised.

-No doubt thanks to your skilled assistance, Severus. I am pleased to hear this. Do you have an estimate on the casualties as of yet?" asked the Dark Lord from his seat at the head of the table.

Severus replied in a neutral voice:

"Not yet, my Lord, but my personal estimate would be around a seventy deaths and a hundred wounded in the Wizarding patients and about ten times more of Muggles. Once their status was ascertained as such, they were transferred to Muggle hospitals, of course, so their numbers are unknown," explained Severus in a droning voice. Seventy deaths were a considerable dent in their small community. It wasn't catastrophic, but it would set them back of a few years at least in the Dark Lord's population regrowth scheme.

His thoughts were interrupted by the dull thud of a fist hitting the arm of a chair. His Lord didn't look pleased at the news. Those bloody eyes were shining with fury.

"I do not care about such trifling details such as the amount of dead Muggles. You would do well to remember so, Severus," said the Dark Lord before turning abruptly to Lucius, who bowed his head elegantly before saying his report.

"My Lord, upon careful examination of the remains of the 'bomb' and the state of the special wards, the wardmasters and explosives experts have reached the same startling conclusion: It seems like this 'bomb' was originally conceived to be much more powerful, but was purposely sabotaged before its utilisation. The reasons behind this theory have still yet to be found. The team was also able to ascertain that this was, or used to be at least, a Muggle bomb. The question of the responsibility for its creation seems to point towards the rebels since the remains showed signs of magical manipulations. The rebels' profile, however, does not correspond to this style of attack, nor has it been known that they had arsonists or Muggle experts among their group...My Lord, I fear..." hesitated the Minister for Magic with furrowed brows.

"Say it already, Lucius, some of us are busy men," cut the Dark Lord impatiently.

Lucius started to bristle at the implication, since he was after all the Minister of Magic, but apparently seemed to remember to whom he was speaking because he stifled his objection down. He straightened up on his chair nonetheless to finish his report.

"My Lord, I fear that the Rebels, to be able to plan such a coup, had to have gained the alliance of either an unknown new power or...of the Muggles."

Severus felt his eyes widen at the implication. This could be potentially disastrous.

...

Oh shit.

Next chapter: Planning for retaliation, a jealous Dark Lord and its...consequences. Hehehe.

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