Shadow, Livingston

One eye on the clock
One eye on the mirror
Take a step through your thoughts
Is it getting clearer?
If they follow you whenever night falls
Will you still listen to my call
Who do you trust or no one at all?
Or no one at all?

Don't think twice
You'll be dead in a second
Turn your eyes
From your hands to the heavens
Kill your pride
Turn your fear to a weapon
And don't you forget it

Don't you let 'em take control
And don't you let 'em break your soul
It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on your floor


'Why the hell would you say, 'We need to talk' right before he says that?' Harry demanded rapidly. He flicked his eyes to Cassiopeia and then back to the Dark Lord, light beaming from his arms and an infinitesimal smirk on his face.

"Whoa," Harry said, holding his hands up, though he was certain it would mean nothing, "But I'm useless?"

Voldemort smiled then, splitting his face but not reaching his eyes. He shot light at Harry's feet, the heat cracking the stone. "You are only as strong as your weakness. You are your greatest vulnerability. Have you learned nothing from me?"

His arms and legs shook with the force of the adrenaline coursing through his veins, hit repeatedly with the urge to jump as though he were at a height.

The Parseltongue and the light were a distraction. That worked. Voldemort was right in front of his face instantly, sweeping his legs out from under him and making Harry explode like a frightened squid, filling the wards with inky blackness.

They scrambled for control in the darkness, Harry having an advantage, able to 'feel' with the curse and undoubtedly distracting the Dark Lord with the pain. Regardless, it wasn't enough.

He was already on his back, unable to scramble out from under Voldemort. He knelt on Harry's robes, pinning him by the throat to the stones with a gloved hand, the other holding his right arm down. He could feel the wild grin on the Dark Lord's face as he uselessly tried to pry him off with his left hand.

His heart felt like it was going to burst; all the blood in his body was either in his head or his cock, his limbs numb and shaking. Voldemort's knee was between his legs, and he was achingly aware that if he somehow slid down just a tiny bit, there would be contact. He was also aware of the fact that he hadn't been able to draw breath in a while.

He let go of the Dark Lord's robes and instead smacked repeatedly on the hand squeezing his throat, gasping, bucking his hips in search of friction. Voldemort didn't relent, holding tighter until Harry could no longer make a sound. His muscles were weakening, but the curse was holding strong, pouring out of his skin and squeezing the Dark Lord right back. He was certain that the adrenaline was the only thing keeping him conscious, his pulse a continuous blur.

Though he was supposed to be fighting, he wasn't putting much effort into overwhelming Voldemort with the curse, instead using it to feel him, pulling at his robes, digging into his skin, insisting that he do something about it. He could feel how hard the Dark Lord was with the darkness, and though he was sure he was about to pass out—bubbles popping in his head—it sent him wild. Thrashing underneath him with a second wind, thrusting upward and grabbing the Dark Lord's shirt with his free hand, trying his best to sit up and bite his mouth. When he couldn't, he used the darkness instead, tracing his lips and then pushing past them to wisp it across his tongue.

For a fraction of a second, Harry felt the Dark Lord lean in and open his lips, his grip and muscles relaxing before he stumbled back, freeing him. Harry inhaled violently and choked on it, the curse falling away like fading mist. He curled into a ball on his side and tried not to vomit.

The wards around them fell, and Ginny rushed to his side. He held up a hand as she approached, sitting up and still coughing, not brave enough to look at Voldemort.

"I'm okay," he rasped.

Ginny frowned, glanced at the Dark Lord, and then back at him.

"Very spectacular," Cassiopeia said. It really is spectator-friendly magic, and you're clearly highly skilled in combat." She kicked his leg and laughed. "Kidding, obviously. Heart attack?"

"Er, yeah." He struggled to his feet and made sure his robes fell perfectly.

"Bring the Weasley to Nurmengard," Voldemort said, taking Harry's arm and Disapparating before Cassiopeia could answer.

He didn't use the Portkey when they reappeared at the edge of a small village he didn't recognise. Instead, he Apparated a second time, dragging Harry with him.

"Do not ever do that again," he held Harry by the scruff of his shirt, yanking with each syllable, snarling through his teeth, his face bright red.

He re-summoned his mask and pulled his hood up when he let go, pacing rapidly in the darkness at the bottom of the Nurmengard stairs while Harry gnawed his tongue.

'Is that bad? Did I do the wrong thing?' He wondered.

'No. You did… Well.'

He was still hard, his cock twitching at Tom's thoughts, staring a hole into the back of the Dark Lord's head.

'What-' his thoughts were interrupted by Cassiopeia and Ginny, appearing with the Portkey.

'What do we need to talk about?' Harry finished.

Voldemort summoned a light and took the misty steps two at a time. Tom was right behind him, ignoring Harry's thundering pulse and the instability of his legs.

'It is obvious now that he is pursuing you. Do not smile. It is not a friendly pursuit. He has shown his hand by attempting to drive a wedge between you and Ginevra. This means that we do not have an advantage, and you must listen to me carefully. If I give you a command, you will follow it, yes?'

'Yes, but what do you mean? Drive a wedge?'

'He put Charlie before you, knowing what I would do. Knowing what you would do. He said yes when you asked if she could see her brother and join the classes because he hopes it will push her from you. Alone, you are an easier target. He intends to subjugate you; he wants you to beg for it. It is now critically important not to let him break your will. If we are ever to be equal, he must yield first.'

'What… Happens if my will breaks?'

Tom didn't answer. He glanced over his shoulder at Ginny, scowling deeply beside Cassiopeia as they ascended the steep, dangerous stairs.

'He will do whatever it takes to separate Ginevra from you, and so I believe it is best to warn her. And Cassiopeia.'

Harry tripped on a step, slammed his hands into the stones to catch himself and released a shaky, nervous breath as the Dark Lord stopped ahead of him. He didn't turn around, radiating irritation.

He corrected himself and continued, face blazing despite the freezing air.

Voldemort didn't lead them up the winding stairs once inside the stronghold. Instead, he went left, down a long, wide hallway, past a large, steaming swimming pool in an arched room. Bizarrely placed in a prison, Harry thought.

As he walked through the castle, he realized it wasn't strictly a prison. They moved through a behemoth room with the largest stained-glass window he'd ever seen, the clear sections overlooking the cloud-capped, moonlit mountains beyond them. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves, and a large telescope stood in front of the railed-off window.

The Dark Lord didn't pause to let them take it in, though Harry wanted to. His legs stopped him in the centre, and he gawked at the window until Cassiopeia purposefully walked into his back.

"Get out a lot, don't you?" She said in his ear, pushing him forward.

They moved through a short door tucked within the bookshelves into another corridor, narrower than the first, empty of the Dark Lord's followers. Ginny gripped his sleeve, her breathing audible as Voldemort pushed the fourth door in the hallway open and gestured them inside.

Charlie was restrained at the wrists with chains, though it didn't seem at all necessary. He was in a small bed, staring at the ceiling and muttering the same word over and over again.

The Dark Lord removed his mask and slowly circled the bed, eyes on Charlie. "Lydia informs me that you ruptured several blood vessels in his brain. Broke every bone connected to a muscle. Sent him into cardiac arrest. Caused innumerable internal bleeds." He nearly hummed the words.

"Shelter," Charlie said tonelessly.

Harry felt sick, swallowing the bile that kept rising.

"Holy fuck," Cassiopeia went from shocked to narrowing her eyes at Voldemort rapidly.

Ginny had let go of his sleeve, staring open-mouthed at her brother with tears wobbling on her lower lids.

The nausea was quickly replaced with anger, bubbling in his chest while Voldemort smirked at him, his fingers twitching as he was hit with the urge to leap over the bed and tackle his smug face.

"…Charlie?" Ginny touched his hand, and he had no reaction, blinking at the wooden ceiling.

"Shelter," he repeated.

"There has to be a way to fix this?" Harry hissed, pushing the urge to fight down and trying a different tactic.

"There is," Voldemort twitched an eyebrow as he spoke, the Parseltongue giving Harry goosebumps, the words feeding his rage.

Harry knew why he hadn't fixed it. He wanted Ginny to see him like this and know he'd done this to her brother.

'Do not say anything. He cannot know we know what he is doing.'

He swallowed and said something anyway, "Why haven't you helped him?"

"I did help him?" The words were a dare that Harry didn't take.

He could feel that Voldemort wanted him to ask the price, that he would offer something Tom wouldn't let him take. So, he bit his tongue, glaring in silence as Ginny choked on barely concealed sobs. The vampire eventually removed her from the room without another word, and Harry was frozen between following them and starting a fight.

Tom let him do neither, and so the frustration bubbled in his head. 'I fucking hate him. I hate what he does to me. How can I be so angry and so…'

"Is something the matter?" The Dark Lord whispered, leaning on the bed like a tabletop, ignoring Charlie.

"I fucking hate you," Harry said.

He smiled and tilted his head, "Good."


The Dark Lord had Apparated him back to the school, and Harry threw his arm away when they landed, sprinting for the wood bridge and up through the clock tower without turning back, refusing to soothe the Horcrux without words.

He didn't stop as he ran all the way to his room, collapsing, breathless in front of the tapestry, and deeply disappointed to find that neither Cassiopeia nor Ginny were waiting for him.

He and Tom took their anger out on each other, tearing clothes off haphazardly like he was a bag of angry cats, collapsing into the bed as they struggled. He summoned the curse, a cloud completely encompassing him as he bit his wrist and forced his pants off with his free hand.

"Hate—him." He growled it into his skin, teeth cutting in, while Tom squeezed his cock.

'I know.'


The next morning, he didn't see Ginny in the halls. The map told him that she was still in the Slytherin dormitories, skipping classes with Avalon and Eris.

Draco, Ruby, and Pansy sat with him during Herbology, his mind firmly elsewhere the entire lesson. He knew he had a Saint Mungo's appointment, but not what time. His second class of the day on Fridays was also a free slot until the following week when his schedule was fit to burst, most of his lessons full, some bleeding into the night.

He'd seen Nagini on the map, in the library, and so he wandered there from the greenhouse—a short walk, short enough for him to disguise it as the reason he was seeking her over any of his friends.

He left his Death Eater entourage at the door, more confident with commanding them to leave him be, though he wasn't sure exactly how far that leash would extend.

She was sitting on the floor; her own guard stood on the inside of the doors well out of earshot. She had countless books open in front of her and was taking notes in her drawing book with the raven's feather quill that Voldemort usually used.

"Harry," she said, tapping the floor beside her.

She hadn't gathered any gawking students, though Harry figured it was a matter of time; the second period was a popular free spot, with lunch right behind.

He sat down and looked over the open pages, trying to get a sense of what she was looking at. No one topic stood out as the clear target, ranging from herbology to arithmancy. Some of them were nursery rhymes, and another was a moving picture book depicting fairy tales.

"I'm sorry about Charlie," she told him.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I tried to tell him it was an unkind idea."

"Nagini, I don't think he cares if he's being kind."

She pursed her lips and sighed. He sighed, too, feeling weirdly guilty. "I know you… Love him. And he's… Good to you? I hope?"

"Yes."

"But he's not- we're not- he hates me, and I... Hate him."

She seemed confused, frowning at him and then at the books, picking at the corner of one of the pages until it tore.

"How's the Horcrux?" He asked, trying to fill the awkward silence and desperately curious.

She frowned harder, her lips white as she met his eyes and pointed at her own, indicating that he should look. Tom took them into her mind, a deeply familiar, comforting space, though he'd only seen it once.

"-You will come to heel or I will rip you out do you fucking understand me? SHUT UP! SHUT—THE—FUCK—UP!"

Harry couldn't see the Dark Lord but could sure as hell hear him screaming behind a closed door he didn't recognise, Nagini leaning her ear against the black wood.

There was crashing coming from inside, as though he was tossing furniture before the door burst open, and the Dark Lord appeared, entirely blind to the fact that Nagini had fallen into the room. Instead, he shot down the stairs to their right, wild-eyed.

She raced after him, flying down the stairs in a cloud of green silk, pulling Harry and Tom along with her.

He finally noticed her, pacing with a knife in his hand, face manic. "Nagini, I cannot do this. It cannot be reasoned with; it will not be controlled. It's incessant; this isn't working. This is a fucking disaster."

Despite the drama he was displaying, Nagini approached slowly, one hand raised, her expression calm. "You aren't trying. You're doing it all wrong." She took the knife from him, and he let her, shaking his head aggressively. "You can't cut it out."

He seemed bewildered, staring at his hands as though wondering where the knife went before Nagini took his arm and dropped him to his knees with her magic.

"That was Wednesday night," she said when Tom removed them from her head. "He went somewhere, came back, and was crazy."

They'd seen the Unspeakable on Wednesday night. "What time?" Tom asked.

"After ten."

Harry had returned to the school not long after nine. That meant that Voldemort had probably spent an hour with Vale, and whatever he'd learned had him tossing couches. Nagini didn't seem to know anything about the Unspeakable, which made Harry more nervous.

"Did he tell you where he was going?"

"No. But he was very angry with you when he woke up."

"With me?" Harry repeated, frowning.

She searched for words but couldn't seem to find them and pointed at her eyes again. Tom obliged, finding the memory at the forefront of her mind.

"Just listen, would you? He would not be dead; he would just be sleeping. Stop doing that with your face. He might even like it, Nagini. A nice long sleep?"

She looked at him as though he had snot coming out of his nose. "What is wrong with you?"

"I need you to trust me and let me put him to fucking sleep." His voice raised in pitch at the end, betraying the calm demeanour he was trying to portray. "It is for the best." He tried again.

"You want to put Harry to sleep forever, but you won't tell me why?" She crossed and uncrossed her arms and legs, leaning back in her seat.

He laughed, a quiet sound, then again, louder, until he was cackling and crying at once—his face insane. "Nagini." He said her name three times before he regained some composure, "This- I can't. The things I'm- he's-" he shot out of his seat, "Why can't you just listen?!"

He stormed out of the room while Nagini stared after him, eyes wide.

He'd wanted to ask her more questions, but the Dark Mark burned, pulling him from her head and to his feet. "The mark," he said, turning away as she nodded, frowning.

Tom jammed all Harry's private thoughts and machinations where all of his other untouched emotions went, right in time for the Dark Lord to request access to their mind.

Voldemort demanded, 'Clock tower courtyard.' He didn't vanish immediately; instead, he snooped in Harry's head, pulling at thoughts as though they belonged to him.

He walked with a ramrod straight back, eyes bulging out of his head as he and Tom fought not to draw attention to the infinitesimal holes in his head. After an extensive, rapid ransacking, he finally let go when Harry reached the bell tower.

When he entered the courtyard, he couldn't resist the scowl on his face. Neither he nor Tom could control the bubbling anxiety that the Dark Lord's search had brought.

Voldemort stood beside the well in the centre of the yard, facing away from him. A few Death Eaters milled around, but they seemed to be trying to avoid his attention rather than gain it. He didn't turn to Harry; instead, he walked away at high speed across the uneven bridge.