Chapter 8

A forest of black hair met him at the door, blocking his view of anything else as she embraced him. He let her. It was easier than fighting. Faster.

"You shouldn't wander off," Bellatrix pulled back, taking Raven's face into her hands as she gazed up at him.

"I told you where I'd be," he said. "I never left."

"You didn't?"

He shook his head.

"Bellatrix."

The voice behind them caused Bellatrix to jump. She immediately dragged Raven out of the doorway and dipped into a curtsy.

"My lord," she said, greeting and apology rolled into one.

He waved her off, moving to sit in a comfortable looking armchair that separated him from everyone else.

"You should still be careful," Bellatrix said, rounding on Raven once more. "It's dangerous."

"I think the kitten is a solo hunter," Raven said, lounging back in his own seat. He grinned upon meeting Raven's eyes. A glance down revealed Rosier still hadn't cleaned his blood from his robes.

Without his wand, Raven couldn't get clean.

When his eyes lifted again, Rosier's expression had changed to something quieter. A secret shared. A chill inched its way up his spine. Did he want to share a secret with Rosier?

Probably not.

"Rosier," Bellatrix screeched. "Did you hurt my baby?"

"Of course not," Rosier replied, smirking.

"Then why is he covered in blood?"

"It's mine."

The room paused, every eye turning to look at Rosier before looking at Raven. He might have been insulted that no one thought he could hurt the wizard, but this was Evan Rosier. He'd gotten lucky because the wizard was cocky and had left himself open.

"You let him hurt you?" Voldemort asked, unable to hide his own surprise.

"I didn't let him do anything," Rosier said. "He may have forgotten much, but he is as resourceful as ever. The injury was well-earned."

"You attacked him," Bellatrix accused, wrapping her arms around Raven as though she could protect him from anything else Rosier wanted to do.

Rosier shrugged, unconcerned.

Does anything ever concern him?

"I was testing his ability," he said. "He wasn't hurt."

That's probably all that matters to him.

"This wasn't that time for that," Bellatrix told him. "He wasn't ready."

"That's the best time for tests," Rosier answered. "Catching someone off guard is the best test of their capabilities."

"That's beside the point!"

"Bella," Raven said, the name still foreign on his tongue, drawing the woman's attention to him. "It's fine."

"Fine?" Bellatrix fumed. "He could have killed you."

"He didn't."

This was not how he wanted to spend his evening. And, with his luck, the two would fight the night away, and Raven's 'proof' would be forgotten.

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed, and she pushed closer. Raven hadn't even known that was possible until the last centimeters were gone, and his head was being forced into the woman's shoulder.

"Did he hurt you?" she demanded, her voice low and only heard because she placed it by his ear.

He twisted his head to the side to allow himself room to breathe. Across the room, Rosier met his gaze. It was dark and observant. As though he knew what Bellatrix asked.

Maybe he did. Maybe all this had been planned well in advance, and only Raven's answers were unknown.

"No," he answered finally, gingerly trying to pull away from the woman. Thankfully, she released her grip on him, allowing him the space he needed.

"He showed me something new. Something …" he trailed off, considering his response. Considering what everyone was trying to convince him, there was only one option, and he kept his eyes locked on Rosier as he spoke. "Intimate."

Rosier's eyebrows shot upward, and his eyes turned to Voldemort, drawing Raven's with him. The man held himself stiffly, glaring darkly at Rosier. For anyone else, the look would have meant death, but Rosier simply smirked, as though everything were going according to his own plans. As though the dark lord's anger was something to strive for.

His eyes were dark with savage glee as he turned back to Raven.

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone, Kitten," he said, playing up Raven's words in a way he hadn't expected. "You've ruined the surprise."

Raven had barely a second to decide whether to continue playing along, or let it die. But, the way Voldemort clutched at his wand was too tempting. Could he make the dark lord curse Rosier? Or would his temper turn to Raven instead?

"No one's ever made me feel that way before," he said, pulling a little of his stage presence into the smirk he gave Rosier, the canting of his hips. "You can't expect me to keep quiet about it."

Bellatrix gripped his arm tightly. "Harry, what happened?"

"Yes, Rosier," Voldemort purred dangerously. "What did you do?"

Rosier laughed, which wasn't the reaction Raven would have had if the same look and question were directed at him. It hadn't been his reaction the last time he'd seen that look. Of course, he'd already been bleeding by that time.

"I did nothing to disrupt your claim," Rosier said, putting an end to the game. Somewhat. "The specifics will remain between us, I think, but I didn't touch him."

Raven scoffed. "My bruises say otherwise."

"You always did turn the loveliest shades," Rosier said, causing the dark lord to curse him. However, the man was already moving, causing the light to miss him. He bowed to the dark lord, and then to Raven, and when nothing else came his direction, he retook his seat.

Raven blinked. He really should know better than to verbally spar with these people. They'd had longer to practice, and were quicker with their responses than he could ever hope to be. Still, seeing Voldemort try to curse someone else was oddly satisfying.

"Rosier," Voldemort warned, eyes narrowing to slits as he stared at the wizard in question.

Evan Rosier could read it. One more comment, and the dark lord's assassin wouldn't get away unscathed again. What would it take to get Rosier to speak up again, he wondered.

Raven and Rosier met gazes once more, and Rosier's smirk grew, as though he knew the thoughts in Raven's head. Impossible, of course. Rosier was just trying to 'share' his brand of crazy again.

Raven turned away.

Lucius, who'd been silent up until now, pinched the bridge of his nose, as though in pain. Raven almost felt sorry for the man, but he'd chosen his course in life. Lucius Malfoy had no one but himself to blame for being stuck among the insane.

For that matter, neither could Raven.

Bellatrix dragged him to the couch, still attached to his arm like a determined leech he couldn't shake off despite the way his skin crawled at the confinement. She might start crying again, and he was not prepared for going through that again.

The room fell silent around him. Voldemort was still too busy glaring at Rosier to start a conversation, and neither Bellatrix nor Lucius dared interrupt the silence. Rosier might have, but he was enjoying the tension too much, Raven could see it in the way the wizard reclined in his chair, smirking.

Raven didn't start conversations.

Finally, Voldemort got himself under control.

"Severus will be here soon," he said. "And you'll have your proof." Voldemort leaned back in his seat, tapping a single, long, finger on the arm of his chair.

Does he ever not look menacing? Raven wondered, even as he considered the implications of Snape bringing the 'proof'.

They were going to feed him a potion. Obviously, it wouldn't be one to actually restore his memories. He didn't think those even existed, or they'd have used it on Lockhart years ago.

False memories then?

He didn't know how that would work. Mind magics had always been beyond him, but he did know it was difficult, and could go very wrong.

"You have pictures or something, I suppose," Raven said, hoping to get a better idea of what the dark lord had planned. The man had always liked the sound of his own voice, after all. Now shouldn't be any different.

He finally extracted his arm from Bellatrix to lay it across his legs. His other arm lay across the back of the couch, turning him towards the dark lord, and adding an extra defense against the

woman calling herself his mother.

Not much of one, he realized as she just leaned against him, but she wasn't clinging anymore. He'd take what he could get.

"We have a few," Voldemort replied easily. "You were never one for pictures, however, so there aren't many."

Truth and lies again. Could I ever catch them in something?

"Most of our proof you'll give yourself."

Raven blinked. "Really?" he asked, unable to keep a real glimmer of curiosity from his lips. "How?"

Whatever they gave him wasn't going to be the truth. He wondered how close it would mimic reality, or if it would be completely different. What had they crafted to convince him of their sincerity? Of their truthfulness? How much would it mess with his mind?

Pain at the back of his head distracted him from his thoughts.

"Show our lord the proper respect," Bellatrix ordered.

Raven blinked again, feeling his expression cooling further as he twisted to look at her. There was only so much he would put up with, even for the sake of his cover. Especially for his cover.

"You're lord,"Raven corrected. "I have no lord." He twisted back, looking directly into Voldemort's eyes. "Nor do I plan on getting one."

"You-"

"Hush, Bellatrix."

Behind him, the woman silenced, but he could almost feel her fury. Would she have broken the charade? Bellatrix would likely be the one most likely to break first. Her or Voldemort.

Just how patient does he plan to be? How far could I push him?

He breathed the thought away, recognizing it had no place here. Though if they could all stop pretending it would be easier in the long run. He could stop struggling to survive. He could just let it all end and stop caring about what he was leaving behind. But, so long as they gave him that glimmer of hope, he had to cling to it.

It was human nature to continue to fight to live. And he couldn't stop himself from doing the same.

Besides, I have a plan.

The door opened.

Raven twisted in his seat, glancing at the door, and yet another person he hadn't seen in five years.

"My lord," The figure bowed before entering fully.

Severus Snape had not changed much in five years. Still tall and slender. His hair was still greasy from potion fumes. His eyes still pierced through anything. If he'd bothered looking, he might have realized Raven was faking, but he didn't. His eyes never left Voldemort.

"My apologies for the delay. The potion gave me some trouble at the end."

Voldemort nodded. "Severs, you remember Harry."

Snape barely glanced his way. "Of course, my lord."

"Severus was a teacher of yours for several years."

Raven nodded, eyes watching the potions master glide further into the room, silently taking notes. With his own height, it was difficult to be intimidating, but there were times he needed it. Severus Snape had always been good at intimidation.

"We were merely waiting on you, Severus."

The man nodded, finally turning to give Raven a proper look. Raven met his gaze, wondering what the man saw. Would it be the end of everything?

Snape held out a vial, which Raven took, gazing at the royal blue liquid glinting in the light of the room.

"What's this for?" Raven asked, eyes on Snape.

"It will bring back your memories," Voldemort answered, forcibly drawing Raven's attention back to him. "Not all of them, as that would be too much for you to process, but it is meant to start the process."

Raven gazed at the liquid once more, holding it up to get a better look at it, as though he'd have any chance of recognizing it. There was.

The year before their deaths, the three of them had sat down and learned about every magical poison ever created, in the hopes that they could protect themselves. Hermione had thoroughly researched and described every single one. They'd even managed to acquire several samples to see the results for themselves.

The memory of the bushy-haired girl arguing with the red-head shot a pang through his heart. He stilled, eyes never leaving the vial as he waited for it to pass. Slowly, it faded to nothing.

This didn't resemble any of the poisons he knew.

But it has been five years.

"For all I know, it could be poison," Raven said, still looking at the liquid. "I've no reason to trust you, after all."

"If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it already."

Raven couldn't help the small noise of acknowledgement that left him. Even without memories, he'd have known the truth of that.

With that in mind, he uncorked the vial and downed it with a grimace.

"Ugh."

Why do all potions take like this?

Snape just arched an eyebrow at him, but said nothing about his reaction. A moment later, his expression grew fuzzy, and Raven felt himself falling into blackness.

Harry's spine straightened as pain shot through him with a smack.

"Ow."

"Perhaps you will remember your posture now, Mr. Potter?"

He grimaced. "Sorry, Mr. Malfoy."

"Posture is important in everything we do," he lectured. "It is the first thing anyone will notice. A good posture raises your worth in the eyes of others. Poor Posture lessens you.

Harry nodded. He'd heard all of this before. This time, however, Lucius motioned behind Harry to where Ron and Hermione were seated, watching the demonstration and waiting their turn.

"Even Ms. Granger, with her unfortunate upbringing, has excellent posture."

"With respect, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said, voice tight with restrained fury. "My background was not unfortunate, and I am still stronger than most of your purebloods."

After a moment, Lucius nodded once. "Well said, Ms. Granger." He turned his attention to Harry. "Always know your worth. It will prevent people taking advantage of you, or throwing you aside."

Harry nodded. He knew all this too. It was just not something he was good at. Too often, he was punished for trying.

Lucius sighed. "How would you greet me?"

Harry gave a mental sigh. Why can't it be someone else's turn?

He gave a small smile, knowing that it was polite. "Mr. Malfoy, it is a pleasure to see you again. How have you been?"

Lucius shook his head. "That's a very muggle way of it," he said. "No pureblood," he paused, glancing at Ron. "No traditional pureblood would accept that."

"Well, what's wrong with it?" Harry demanded.

"Oh, I know this one."

Harry turned, seeing Ron's hand in the air.

"Mr. Weasley."

"It's because it suggests that you know more about their state than they do. You're never supposed to ask how someone's been until they have begun hinting towards it. For example, if they mention work, or their family, it's an invitation to ask after their well-being."

"Very good, Mr. Weasley," Lucius said.

"Why is that?" Hermione asked.

Lucius sighed, motioning Harry back to his seat, which he gratefully took. Hermione winked at him. Of his friends, she was best able to read his discomfort, and direct attention elsewhere.

"It dates back before Merlin's time," Lucius said.

"No, no, no. Not like that!"

Harry glanced up with a sheepish smile. "Sorry Bella."

She shook her head before fixing his hold. "It's like this," she told him. "This allows you to support and lead without being overbearing."

Harry nodded, testing out the grip again. He was never able to keep it, but he was trying.

"Ready?" Bella asked.

"No?" he asked, smiling at the woman. Then, before she could say anything, he nodded. "Okay. Alright, let's see. It was … back, right?"

Bella nodded, eyes shining at him. Harry grinned at her as he stepped back, pulling her with him. She hummed approvingly as he led her to the side and into a wide turn.

"Good, kitten," Evan told him. "Hold your wand firmly. Confidence is key here. Hermione, don't fear the spell. Fear gives it control. If it controls you, it owns you. You don't want it to own you."

Hermione nodded, inhaling slowly. Before she could try again, Evan stepped up, gently changing her stance, altering her hold on her wand, running his fingers over her arm. Hermione tensed under his touch.

"There," Evan said. "Confidence, Hermione. Without it you will fail. What's the incantation?"

Hermione swallowed, but murmured the words.

"And what does it do?"

"When used on a living target, it will disembowel them, while making them unable to die. THen, it will ignite every nerve within them, making them feel as though their insides were on fire. If not treated within 10 minutes, the victim will self-combust into actual flames and be burnt alive," Hermione recited, her voice only shaking on the first few words before regaining her control.

"Very good. And if it's not properly cast?"

Hermione swallowed. "If it is cast improperly, the spell will rebound on the caster, making them experience everything instead."

"Why are we learning this now?" Harry asked, more to get Evan away from Hermione than a desire to know. "Isn't it a little advanced for us right now?"

Evan tsked, but left Hermione, who slumped in on herself in obvious relief. None of them were comfortable around Evan. They'd all heard the stories. They all knew what he was capable of, and he set all three of them on edge.

"There's nothing simpler," he answered. "If I wanted to challenge you, I'd have started on the unforgivables.":

"I can't cast them," Harry said. "Already tried to."

The Ministry wasn't his greatest moment, but he had tried to cast the Cruciatus and the Avada Kedavra then. Both had failed rather spectacularly.

Evan laughed, and it wasn't a pleasant sound. His spine prickled in warning, the only one he got before Evan launched himself at Harry. Harry stumbled backward, foot catching on something. Evan's weight crashed them to the ground.

"We need to work on your reaction," Evan said, pinning Harry beneath him, despite his struggles.

"Get off him."

Harry and Evan both glanced up. Ron and Hermione stood nearby, wands pointed at them. Neither had any give in their gazes. No doubts. No hesitation. Merlin, he loved them, but Evan Rosier would kill them if they didn't stop.

"What will you do if I don't?" Evan asked, pushing more of his weight onto Harry's wrists.

Harry fought back a grimace of pain, not wanting to give Evan the satisfaction.

"You can't cast the unforgivables," Evan continued. "You know no dark magic, and you're unwilling to cast anything substantial. What could you possibly do to make me move?"

Ron and Hermione shared a glance, doubt creeping into their gazes.

"Voldemort doesn't want Harry hurt."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Always going for the authority figures."

Hermione glared at him, but Rosier's laugh cut off any response.

"The dark lord doesn't give me orders," he said. "And if I wanted to kill Harry Potter, he couldn't stop me, or catch me after. So. What. Can. You. Do?"

There was no response from his friends, though Hermione's lips were pursed in her thinking face, and Ron was glancing between Harry and Evan, weighing his options. But, Evan had forgotten that Harry was here too, and that he wasn't defenseless.

He might not be as capable as Evan Rosier, but he wasn't defenseless. And, Evan had left one very telling opening available to him.

As Evan was distracted with Ron and Hermione, Harry situated himself and jabbed his knee upward. Evan didn't so much as flinch.

"Good, Kitten," Evan praised, "but I've already prepared for that. You're not getting away that easily. Neither of you answered my question. What can you do?"

"We could-"

"Nothing," Evan interrupted Hermione. "There is nothing you can do that I can't stop, even without my wand. But, by the time I'm done with you, you will never be defenseless again."

He turned his gaze, dark, excited, eager, to Harry. "Any other questions?"

"Hermione isn't an exception," Harry said, crossing his arms as he stared down the dark lord. "And killing all the muggleborns isn't the solution."

"They pollute the world," Voldemort said, not looking up from his reports. "Your friend appears to be the exception, as I said, but they're not all as talented, or willing to learn."

"You're biased."

Voldemort glared at him, anger visibl;e, but without the desire for his death he was so used to. Voldemort carefully laid the reports in his hands down, and leaned back in his seat.

"I've seen it," he said. "Muggleborns do not perform as well as purebloods."

Harry snorted. "I can name a half dozen muggleborns that perform better than a great many purebloods, and that's without the same opportunities purebloods have."

"And, they insist on clinging to their muggle ways," Voldemort said. "They do not care for traditions which existed long before they were born. Nor do they try to understand the world they find themselves in. They simply expect everyone else to make exceptions for them."

Harry leaned forward. "When has anyone ever tried to teach them?" he countered. "Most of us grew up dreaming of magic, but when we finally learn we actually have it, we're entering a world that looks down on us for not understanding it."

"You're not a muggleborn."

"I was raised like one."

Voldemort nodded slowly, likely considering his own upbringing.

"Just think about it, would you?" Harry asked. "You're not going to get anywhere killing muggleborns. If you can make them feel accepted, they'll never look anywhere else."

Harry glanced to the side. "That's all people really want," he said. "To be accepted."

After a moment, Voldemort sighed. "I will think about it.

Harry grinned. That was one step down.

Harry fell back on his bed, arms spread out as he stared at the ceiling. Everything hurt, and he just wanted to lie here and never move again.

His door opened.

"Go away."

"No, don't say that, baby boy," Bella said. "I'm only here to help."

"Nothing can help me."

"Such a dramatic baby," She cooed, crossing the room to sit on his bed. "Come on, sit up and take your medicine."

Harry groaned, but pushed himself up.

Bella played with his hair as he made sure he would stay upright. Then, he took the vial she offered him. He didn't even look, he just downed it, cringing at the taste.

When he glanced up, Bella was looking at him with wide-eyed wonder.

"What?" he asked, frowning.

"You trust me."

"Well … yeah. Shouldn't I?"

Bella leaned forward, laying her forehead on Harry's shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his waist. Holding him close, not that he had any desire to get away.

"Bella?" Harry asked, wrapping an arm around her. This wasn't like the energetic woman.

"After everything I've done, how can you trust me?" she asked. "I hurt you, remember?"

"I haven't forgotten."

Bella cringed.

Harry inhaled slowly. He'd never been good with words. So, how was he supposed to explain this so she would understand?

"Bellatrix was my enemy," Harry said. "She tortured my friends, and she killed my godfather, and she laughed while she did it."

Bella pulled away. "And that's me. I did all that."

"You're Bella," Harry told him, hands keeping the woman in place. "You've been nothing but kind to us, and helpful. You've become a part of our family."

Bella blinked, eyes moistening.

"Bella would never hurt us," Harry said. "You love me too much for that."

Bella threw her arms around him once more. And this time, he'd brought the tears on himself. At least they were happy.

The words didn't register beyond the first five. Harry sank to the ground, no longer listening, stuck in his own cycle, listening to them over again.

Distantly, he heard yelling, but couldn't raise his eyes to see who, or why. He was shaking now.

A hand grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet. He didn't fight it. Didn't have the strength to fight it as he was led from the room. He didn't realize he was crying until he pulled himself from it. He was seated in Lucius' office, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and Lucius kneeling before him, gazing up at him in real concern.

"There you are," he breathed. "I was beginning to worry about you."

"They're dead."

Lucius nodded. Harry closed his eyes, wishing the answer had been different. Warm hands wrapped around the fists clenched in his lap.

"They're dead," he said again, choking past the words. "What am I going to do now?"

"You grieve," Lucius told him. "tHat's all you need to do right now. You grieve. Everything else will keep."

His tears came quicker now. "I'm all alone now.

"Oh, Harry," Lucius breathed. He tugged on Harry's wrists, dragging him from the chair onto the ground, and into Lucius' arms.

"You're not alone," he said. "You have us."

Harry clung to Lucius, hearing himself begin to scream through his tears. Distantly, he heard things begin to break, but Lucius never pulled away. Simply tightened his hold until Harry was spent.

Harry twirled a knife in his fingers, gazing out across the grounds. His eyes were quiet, cold. Angry.

He winced when he missed, allowing the blade to cut into his hand. The knife hit the ground as he silently watched it drip. Drip. Drip away.

It wasn't a major wound. He didn't worry about bleeding out from it, but the sight of blood was captivating. Such a necessary liquid to be lost so easily.

"Death, where is thy sting?"

Harry twitched, but that was the only sign he gave that he'd heard. Evan never needed any encouragement, but right now, he wanted to be alone. The numbness was a sweet release from the constant pain.

"Has the kitten's claws been clipped? Is that why he doesn't respond?"

"Not clipped," Harry answered quietly.

Evan finally stepped into view, head tilted to the side, watching him thoughtfully. What did he see? Harry wondered. Did he notice how broken he was? Did he see the two holes piercing his heart?

"I see a plan forming," Evan said. "What is it?"

Harry shook his head, returning his gaze back to the grounds. Quiet. Peaceful. Lies.

"How does it feel to lose them?" Evan asked, real curiosity coloring his voice.

"Same as losing anyone else."

Lies. His soul was ripped apart. His heart would never heal. He was bleeding from a wound that would never close. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of memory and pain, wishing it away.

"I've never lost anyone," Evan told him. "Never anyone I've cared for. Tell me how it feels."

"Then you wouldn't understand," Harry said. "Maybe you should try caring about someone. Then, if you lose them, you'll understand it. You'll know."

Evan laughed. "I'm not capable of caring.

Harry shrugged. "Not my problem."

Evan hummed softly. "How does it feel, knowing that someone you trusted killed them?"

"I'll make him pay," Harry said. "I'm gonna kill Dumbledore, and I'm going to let him know they're why he's dying."

"Oh?" Evan looked down at him again. Harry could see his smirk of amusement, but didn't deign to look at him fully.

"How are you going to do that?" Evan asked. "Lord Voldemort hasn't given it to anyone yet."

"He'll give it to me."

Harry's fingers dug into the hair behind the pair of lips attached to his. He dueled with the tongue in his mouth, neither admitting defeat, even as he writhed against the taller body. His back pressed against the wall, held there by the welcome weight anchoring him.

When they finally separated, Harry breathed heavily, staring up into the red eyes of his lover.

"You're more excited tonight, Harry," Voldemort breathed, hands sliding to rest on Harry's hips.

Harry smirked. "You don't seem disappointed," he said, hands sliding down Voldemort's chest, unbuttoning the man's shirt as he did so.

Voldemort grinned. "Of course not."

Voldemort slipped his hands under Harry's shirt, running cool hands up Harry's overheated torso. His eyes flickered closed, head tilting back. Lips and teeth caught his throat, leaving little marks behind as Harry clung to the man.

"I do love your reactions," Voldemort murmured before catching Harry's lips once more.

Harry moaned into the kiss as his lover hit all the right spots to drive him crazy before they'd even finished undressing.

The first thing Raven noticed was a hand carding through his hair, the motion soothing, allowing him to stay relaxed as he thought over the images he'd just experienced.

"When will he come around Severus?" Voldemort's voice was as unmistakable as the impatience lacing it.

"As soon as the memories have finished playing out, my lord," Severus said. "It's impossible to determine how long it will be."

"Look at him, sleeping," Bellatrix cooed, voice coming from above him. "So cute, my baby Potter."

She's the one playing with my hair. Given what he'd just seen, it made sense. It might be why her touch wasn't making his skin crawl anymore.

That was worrying. Raven shifted, dislodging her hand without making it obvious that was his intention.

"He's waking," Lucius said, unnecessarily.

"That's my baby," Bellatrix cooed. "Come back to Mummy now."

Her voice was soft and encouraging, though nothing could erase her insanity. She was taking her role the most seriously. He hoped the others weren't planning on the same.

Just thinking of Voldemort trying to enact that last memory rolled his stomach. Except it didn't stop there.

Raven rolled off the couch, his stomach rebelling against everything he'd ingested just as a waste basket was shoved under his nose.

As his stomach ejected its contents, he listened to Bellatrix tsk and worry over him. The hand on his back wasn't helpful, but was also the least of his concerns.

When he finally sat back, he was handed a handkerchief to wipe his mouth with.

"Is your tummy better?" Bellatrix asked.

"My stomach is fine," Raven said, refusing to fall into her speech patterns. Not moving from his place on the ground, trying to get up feeling too adventurous when his stomach was still uneasy, he glanced around the room. No one had left. Likely, everyone wanted to see his reaction.

"How was your sleep?" Bellatrix asked, her fingers once more in Raven's hair.

"Enlightening," he answered slowly.

Raven glanced around the room again. He stopped briefly on Evan, who was still grinning like he knew a secret, but he didn't linger. The last person he looked at was Voldemot. He could still feel a pair of lips on his, a pair of hands gliding up his torso to- He blinked the sensations away.

Voldemort arched an eyebrow at him. "Well?"

"The images were jumbled," he lied, voice calm and revealing nothing. "I need time to sort them out."

"Very well," Voldemort agreed after a moment of silence. "I can-"

"I would like to return home now."

Voldemort blinked away his irritation at Raven's interruption.

Or my desire to go home?

Voldemort nodded. "Very well, Harry. However, our enemies will still be trying to locate you. It's not safe on your own."

"I won't have Nott in my home again," Raven said, before the man could suggest it., "We do not get along, and I don't want him near me again."

"I see," Voldemort murmured, his expression darkening. Had Nott given him a different impression? If so, he was about to be in trouble, and Raven couldn't find it in him to care.

"Is there someone else you'd prefer?" Voldemort asked.

Raven blinked, lips turning down as he stared at the dark lord. Since when did he ask for opinions?

"I don't know anybody," he said, then paused. "Except now I've got random images in my head for everyone in this room." he paused, glancing at Snape. "Almost everyone."

Voldemort hummed softly, eyes gazing at Bellatrix. Raven tensed, knowing he'd have no peace so long as she was there. Thankfully, his gaze left the woman without a word.

"Evan will accompany you."

"Evan?" Bellatrix demanded.

Even Lucius startled at the decision. Evan just grinned as if he'd expected it all along. Raven just blinked.

Since when is Rosier a babysitter? No one else would get him so long as Rosier was there, which may have been his intent. So long as it wasn't Bellatrix …

Rosier's just as bad, Raven realized. He notices things.

But, protesting wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Fine," he said. At least Rosier hadn't tried to touch him yet.

Well, he has, but I'm not sure that counts?

Raven sighed at his thoughts and stood. Thankfully, Rosier stood with him. Raven hesitated, turning his attention to the dark lord. There was one question circling his mind, and he wouldn't be able to rest until he'd gotten it answered.

"Yes, Harry?"

Raven inhaled slowly. "Dumbledore."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "What about him?"

"Who did he kill?"

"Friends of yours," Voldemort answered slowly. "They defected with you."

"Ron and Hermione."

Voldemort jerked, gazing at him in surprise. "Do you remember them?"

"No," Raven said. Answering otherwise would be dangerous for his continued health. "They were in several of the … memories."

He blinked, his gaze on Voldemort as he fought back remembered pain.

"We seemed close."

"You were," Voldemort answered. "They were a boon to our work, but they were yours. Heart and soul." Voldemort paused. "We almost thought we'd lose you with them."

Raven nodded his thanks and turned, leaving the room. He felt Rosier trailing after him. How long could he keep this up? How long before all his defenses came crumbling down, leaving him the quivering mess he'd been before?

Was that Voldemort's goal? Did he want to see him broken and bleeding before he killed him?

Already he could feel the cracks of memories threatening to return. He patched the wall as best he could. It would do for now. He wouldn't need long.

Not long at all.

So, I hadn't realized it's been Two Years since my last update. In my defense I kind of have to be in a certain state of mind to be able to write this properly, and I've been a little stuck on exactly how I want to change/alter the original document I'm working from, and how those changes will spiral beyond.

I still only have a vague idea of what's going to happen, but I do need to start working on this again. The love you guys have given it demands to be answered.

I have one more chapter in the works, and should be able to post it sometime next week. Beyond that, I can't make any promises, but I am working on it. From now on, I will update on Mondays, at least until I run out of material, and then we'll see what happens.