CHAPTER 2: THE DARK BARGAIN
The grand entrance hall was as he remembered—marble floors, dark wood paneling, and opulent chandeliers casting a dim light. He moved silently, his footsteps barely a whisper against the cold floor. He made his way up the sweeping staircase, each step heightening his anticipation.
Finally, he reached Narcissa's chambers. The door was slightly ajar, a faint light spilling out. He pushed it open gently, revealing Narcissa sitting at her vanity, brushing her long, platinum hair. She looked up, startled, as he entered.
"Who...?" Her voice was a mixture of surprise and fear.
"Good evening, Narcissa," he said smoothly, his voice a blend of Harry's familiar tone and Tom's commanding presence. "It's been a long time."
Her eyes widened as she took in his appearance, recognition dawning. "Tom?"
"Yes," he replied, stepping closer. "I have returned."
She stood, her brush clattering to the floor. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
He smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "I want many things, Narcissa. But for now, I simply wish to see you. To talk."
She took a step back, wary. "Lucius will not like this."
"Lucius is preoccupied," Tom said dismissively. "And besides, we both know where his true interests lie. You and I have much to discuss."
Narcissa hesitated, her fear palpable. But Tom could see the wheels turning in her mind. She was calculating, considering her options.
He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. "You are as beautiful as I remembered," he said, his voice a soft murmur. "More so, even."
Her breath hitched, but she did not move away. "What do you want from me, Tom?" she repeated, her voice softer now, almost resigned.
"I want your loyalty," he replied. "Your submission. But most of all, I want to know you are with me, truly with me."
Narcissa's eyes flickered with a mixture of emotions—fear, curiosity, perhaps even a hint of intrigue. "And if I refuse?" she asked.
He smiled again, a dark and knowing smile. "You won't refuse. You can't afford to. Not with Draco and Lucius's fates intertwined with mine."
She swallowed hard, understanding the unspoken threat. "And if I agree?"
"If you agree," he said, his voice soothing, "you and your family will be protected. Elevated, even. But more importantly, you will be free from fear. You will have power, true power, by my side."
Narcissa stood there, her mind racing. Finally, she nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. "Very well, Tom. I will stand by you."
He reached out, gently cupping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Good," he whispered. "Together, we will achieve greatness."
The bond was sealed with a look, a promise of what was to come. Tom knew that with Narcissa's loyalty secured, his path to ultimate power was more assured than ever.
The warmth of the Manor's living room enveloped him, the vast roaring fireplace heating his skin. His feet sank into the plush carpet, the sensation both old and new. He had been here before. In the corner, a grand piano stood, with a blonde figure playing a note that died away as she rose, her hand fumbling for her wand.
Narcissa.
"Potter!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp with shock.
He effortlessly deflected the spell she cast, sending a vase crashing to the floor in pieces.
"No. Lord Voldemort," he corrected her, flexing his magic to its full extent. Although his reserves were not as formidable as Tom's had been, they were still powerful enough to make the mirrors shake and the glasses rattle. Narcissa's eyes widened in disbelief.
"My Lord?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Surely your husband informed you that I used the boy's blood to resurrect myself, or is he a failure even in that?" Harry replied silkily, arrogance dripping from his words. The tone came easily, as did the feeling of superiority. She was beneath him. She would be beneath him.
"I—I, he mentioned nothing of your appearance—" Narcissa stuttered.
"My resurrection was complicated," he admitted. "And yet, the result is not unpleasant." He realized he was still naked, his cock hard and jutting out at her. "It amuses me that I hold the form of the boy who cost me the most."
"But, my husband—"
"Is insignificant and unaware of my true plans. Is he here?"
"No, my Lord, he's gone to Switzerland, as you ordered—"
"Not him, you fool. Your son," Harry snarled, trying to cover his mistake.
"No, my Lord," she trembled. "He's at a dueling camp in Berlin. Lucius wanted him to attain better grades, and—"
"Enough," he cut her off, stepping closer. "Your son is of no consequence right now. What matters is you, Narcissa."
She took a step back, fear evident in her eyes. "What do you want from me, my Lord?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry, embodying Voldemort's presence, reached out and gently took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. "I want your loyalty, your obedience," he said, his voice a dangerous murmur. "And I want you to understand that you have no choice but to comply."
Narcissa's breath hitched, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I have always been loyal to you, my Lord," she said, trying to steady her voice.
"Loyalty is not just a word, Narcissa. It is a bond, an unbreakable promise," Harry said, his grip tightening slightly. "I need to know that you are truly with me, that you will do whatever is necessary to support my cause."
She swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Yes, my Lord. I understand."
"Good," he said, releasing her chin. "Now, show me."
"Show you?" she echoed, confusion mingling with her fear.
"Your dedication. Your willingness to serve," he clarified, stepping even closer. The proximity made her blush, a mix of fear and something else. "Prove to me that you are as loyal as you claim."
Narcissa's eyes widened, but she nodded, understanding the implicit demand. "Yes, my Lord," she said, her voice trembling but resolute.
"Excellent," he said, a dark smile spreading across his face. "Let's begin, then. We have much to discuss and many plans to make."
As she moved to comply, Harry watched her closely, the thrill of power coursing through him. This was just the beginning. With Narcissa under his control, he would secure his influence and pave the way for his ultimate dominance. And with each step, he would ensure that nothing and no one would stand in his way.
"And thought it best he escape my notice, in case I want to recruit him, you mean?" Harry guessed, stalking over to her. She was stunning—a vision of hourglass perfection, with graceful, aristocratic features and that famous blonde hair falling delicately over her face. Pureblood breeding, he thought, amused—ready to be ruined by a half-blood.
"No, of course not, my Lord," Narcissa shook with fear. "We are always happy to serve."
"Are you?" he wondered aloud. "More than ten years I spent in the wilds, a parasite moving from host to host, weaker than even a rat, waiting for my most loyal followers to find me. More than ten years, I waited for even one of my Death Eaters to follow their connection. More than ten years, I waited for the most influential, the most wealthy of houses—the Malfoys—to use all their resources to track me down. And you did not try even once."
"My Lord," Narcissa trembled as he traced a finger down her cheek to her collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
"I always respected your independence, Narcissa, content with Lucius' loyalty. I did not mark you. I had no need of you. And yet, is it not the woman who commands her husband from behind the throne? Do they not say the lady holds the power in every house? The wife who directs the husband, even as she kneels? Why then did Lucius forsake me for over a decade? I find myself," he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "enraged."
She sank to her knees, clutching his leg as she cried. "Forgive me, Master. Forgive me!"
Harry looked down at her, a mixture of contempt and satisfaction washing over him. He lifted her chin with a firm hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Forgiveness, Narcissa, is earned. You will have to prove your loyalty to me, show me that you are willing to do whatever it takes to serve me faithfully."
She nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear and desperation. "I will, my Lord. I swear it."
"Good," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Then rise, and let us see just how devoted you truly are."
Narcissa stood, her legs unsteady, her gaze never leaving his. She was trembling, but there was a determination in her eyes that pleased him. He stepped back, giving her a moment to compose herself.
"You will begin by proving your worth to me in the simplest of ways," he said, his tone commanding. "You will attend to my needs, ensure my comfort, and show me that you are more than just a figurehead in this house. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my Lord," she whispered, her voice steadying.
"Excellent," he said, turning away and moving towards the fireplace. "We will start tonight. Prepare a room for me, and make sure it is to my liking. And remember, Narcissa, I will not tolerate failure."
She bowed her head, her fear palpable. "Yes, my Lord. It will be done."
As she moved to carry out his orders, Harry watched her, a sense of triumph filling him. He had begun to unravel the Malfoys' veneer of power and loyalty, exposing the cracks within. With Narcissa under his control, he would tighten his grip on their influence, ensuring that they served him without question.
And this was just the beginning. He would rebuild his power, piece by piece, until he stood unchallenged once more. Narcissa's submission was merely the first step on his path to absolute dominion. As he watched the flames dance in the hearth, he knew that soon, all would bow before him.
"Prove yourself, Narcissa," he demanded, grabbing her hair and moving her head to his cock, trailing it across her face, leaving glistening precum on her fair features, anointing her as if worthy enough to take his virginity.
She moved to capture him with her lips, but he held her hair back out of reach. "No, that would be a light sentence. I shall be inside you, Lady Malfoy, or I will have your insides out," he mocked.
"Yes, yes, of course, my Lord," she hesitated. "Thank you for your touch. I am unworthy."
He brought his hand to her arse, fondling it for a moment, feeling it jiggle under his touch, groping her arsecheek, kneading it. For a moment, he was just another teenage boy who couldn't believe his luck. He slapped it, watching it jiggle, enjoying her squeak.
"To your bedroom, Cissy," he taunted. "Take my hand."
She gently took his hand, her fingers trembling in disbelief, and led him away. In that moment, Harry couldn't help but feel like just another teenage boy being guided by a shy girl, embarking on the threshold of something profound. Yet, he knew he was far from ordinary; burdened with the memories of a Dark Lord, he understood the gravity of what lay ahead for both of them.
They wandered through a grand, palatial lobby adorned with intricate tapestries and marble statues, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. A sweeping staircase beckoned, splitting left and right before merging again on the second floor beneath a breathtaking stained glass window depicting a celestial scene of shimmering stars. Harry paused briefly, mentally capturing the constellation's arrangement. Would these stars appear different tomorrow night, when he stepped into manhood, bearing the weight of his choices to win a woman's affection?
Narcissa led him through a maze of corridors until they reached a secluded alcove bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through a nearby window. She turned to face him, her expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. "This is where we can be alone," she murmured, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
Harry nodded, his heart racing with a potent mix of anticipation and apprehension. This moment was more than just a physical union; it was a crossing into an unknown realm where innocence would be forever altered. He had seen too much darkness, wielded too much power, to pretend this was just a simple act of teenage rebellion.
"I trust you," Narcissa said softly, her fingers brushing against his cheek. "Prove yourself worthy of that trust."
Her words hung in the air, laden with unspoken challenges and expectations. Harry met her gaze, his own eyes reflecting a blend of determination and the haunting memories of his past. He knew the cost of desire, the weight of his actions, and yet in Narcissa's eyes, he saw a flicker of hope—a yearning for something beyond the shadows that bound them both.
Taking a deep breath, Harry leaned in to kiss her, his touch conveying both tenderness and a silent acknowledgment of the darkness within him. As they embraced, he felt a surge of conflicting emotions—desire, guilt, and a strange sense of liberation mingling together in this forbidden embrace.
Outside, the stars continued their timeless dance, indifferent witnesses to the fragile moments of humanity. Harry knew that tomorrow, the world would look different, and so would he.
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