Chapter: 22

A/n: A BIG THANK YOU: For sticking with me thus far.
I’m sorry to say the ending will still be a…few more chapters away. Like… more than ten. I think. Or more. Somewhere around there.

And no. The assassins are not out of the story yet.

Chapter Twenty Two: This Pain is Just too Real

“Agh,” Harry moaned as Blaise sucked his neck. “Blaise,”

“I would have never taken you as the noisy kind, Harrison.” The black boy whispered huskily. His teeth hit another sensitive spot, causing Harry to give a rather loud squirming sound. He could feel Blaise harden above him. “Fuck, Harrison… make that noise again.”

He chuckled as he pushed at Blaise’s chest, forcing the boy to be the bottom. He climbed on top and took control. With Voldemort, the man would be fighting fiercely, not allowing Harry leeway. But Blaise laid there, content. Harry paused in the kissing, feeling his stomach twist in guilt. He couldn’t do this.

“I can’t do this,” Harry whispered, placing his forehead onto Blaise’s. The black wizard slumped backward with a growl of exasperation.

“Are you bloody kidding me? You’d rather fuck that red eyed bastard? After everything he’s done to you?” Harry remained quiet, frowning. He didn’t know what he was feeling. It was wrong to feel as if he owed Voldemort loyalty when the man treated him so lowly. But why was he always comparing Blaise to him? Why did he always feel the guilt when he kissed another? Simply because Harry knew, deep down, that it was infidelity… and he would never commit that act. Ever.

“I can’t do this.” Harry said more strongly. “He may be a bastard, but he’s my Match.”

“Harrison-,” Blaise started again, but paused, his eyes widening. “Ah!” Blaise screamed, whimpering and thrashing. “Merlin! Help me!” His eyes watered and Harry jumped off him, eyes widening when he saw Blaise’s grey trousers turn red with blood.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered. With shaking fingers, he raked a hand through his hair.

“Harry, Harry,” Blaise chanted in a plead. His fingers shook as they placed themselves over his manhood. “Please help…”

“I don’t know-,” he started, but paused when he heard a hissing chuckle. His heart skipped a beat and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight. “Voldemort?” All he was met with was hissing laughter. “Damn it, Tom. If you are powerful enough to be here, you’re efficient enough to talk.”

Blaise thrashed harder, tears running down his cheeks. The laughter seemed to grow fonder and more excited as Blaise suffered harder. Harry lunged forward, placing his hands on either side of the smooth and wet cheeks. “Blaise,” Harry soothed, pouring his Seer magic into the boy. Immediately, the pain left Blaise’s eyes as he relaxed. The pain was still there, Harry could feel the Dark Lord’s magic still present, but with his Seer, he could easily block it.

Voldemort hissed in displeasure.

“You saw that I stopped, I wouldn’t have done it… damnit.” Harry cursed, seething. “It shouldn’t matter what I do. You’ve had your chance with me and you ruined it.” He couldn’t possibly imagine how Voldemort could be here. The Dark Lord wasn’t really here, but his presence was. It was frightening at how powerful the man was when he put his mind after things.

“We need to talk…” The voice sounded fragmented, almost as if it were slowly loosing power.

“Bullshit,” Harry spat, eyes narrowing. He caressed Blaise’s cheeks and sent him into an unconscious state. “I’m through with you, Lord Voldemort.” Despite the fact he couldn’t even fuck someone else. “I’ll be giving you one gift, one parting gift you’ve always wanted, and then we’ll be on our way.”

The voice was silent and for a moment Harry thought he’d left. “And what is that? You?”

Harry scoffed, sneering. “As much as I know you want my virginity-,” Well he essentially lost it to Cho…

“Not just your body, silly child. I want you.” Harry was taken aback by the intensity of those words. He blinked, breathing heavily. He knew the Dark Lord had wanted him, why was it so different hearing it from his own lips? It didn’t matter…

“No,” Harry replied softly, staring across the room at his reflection. “It’s something much more… you’ve always said how much you wanted it. Even more than me.” He replied bitterly. In the mirror, Voldemort’s transparent form appeared behind him. The man’s face was bent toward his neck. Crimson eyes glanced up into the mirror.

“And then you’ll leave me? After you give me a gift you claim would make me tremble in desire? I find it hard to believe that you can go anywhere on this world that I can’t reach. I’ll always be there.”

“You underestimate me so much, Tom.” Harry drawled, eyes flashing. “I guess you’ll just have to wait your turn, won’t you? Sadly, you are my last priority at the moment.” Liar. He scolded himself. Everything he’s done, he’s always thought of what the Dark Lord would think.

“Hmm,” the Dark Lord murmured. “That hurts, just a little.” In the mirror, the Dark Lord seemed to lean forward, wanting to kiss his neck. But the only thing Harry felt was the static of magic and the smell of lilacs.

“You don’t seem to take me all that seriously,” Harry remarked. “I suppose you don’t take my word to heart. You and I will never be together.”

“I can never win with you, can I, little one?”

“Perhaps,” Harry moved away from the magic. “If you actually start trying, you will. Maybe starting with an apology can change my act of vengeance towards you.” The Dark Lord started laughing.

“Your act of vengeance?” The man spat in amusement. “You actually think you can hurt me?”

Harry felt sick and hurt. “I don’t think so, Tom. Someone actually needs to have a heart in order to hurt.” He cocked his head to the side, unfolding his magic. “Seeing as you have nothing but a black hole, I suppose my revenge won’t mean anything to you. But it will mean so much to me.”

With that, he used his magic to cleanse the room. Voldemort’s presence left by force and the blood on Blaise disappeared. Pressing his fingers into the boy’s temple, Harry closed his eyes. The pain was gone, Blaise would be fine.

--SSC--

“So…” Sirius started unsurely. Harry grinned, lounging on a chair next to Remus’ bedside. The werewolf had barely made it. Madame Promfrey had done a fantastic job on fixing the man up. Sirius hadn’t left the man’s bedside ever since they had gotten back from the werewolves’ den.

Harry’s eyes were hooded as he concentrated on turning his hand into a paw. He grinned as it turned into a bushy black paw. Success. He’d been working on that for awhile now… he had pushed past the pain and the exhaustion, and the end result was so nice. “Yes?” He murmured distractedly.

“Thanks again for what you did. You risked a lot-,”

“If you thank me one more time, I’ll deliver Lupin to Greyback myself.” He dropped his paw, turning it back to a human appendage before it could hit the armrest. “You didn’t just benefit, but the dark side did.” He watched closely as Sirius looked down and shifted uncomfortable. “What?”

“I can’t help but to wonder what’s happening with you. I mean,” Sirius shook his head, sighing. “Dumbledore…” he looked around, lowering his voice. “He knew what would happen and he sent Remus anyway.” Harry nodded, giving the man a thin smile. “I’m slowly loosing faith in him… but I can’t go to the dark side, Harry, I just can’t.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly and then snapped them open, leaning forward, barely touching lips with Sirius. “This is where your debt comes in, cousin.” Grey eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away. Good. “You know Sirius; a part of being a Seer involves Seeing one’s aura. You can’t hide that behind a goofy and stupid smile. I can see your true self. You’re dark by nature.” Sirius opened his mouth. “Don’t interrupt me.” Harry snapped.

Sirius snapped his mouth shut. “I See that your magic is dark. Actually, that stops you from casting a lot of spells correctly. Not many wizards have this issue, you see, they can be either light or dark, but you are dark. You are meant to be dark. Your family was dark and they pushed you to be dark. Being the rebellious child you were, you wanted to strip free of their expectations and rebel. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t think you’d ever truly go light, did you?”

Before Sirius could respond, Harry continued. “You met three good friends; Remus Lupin, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew. They showed you the ‘true’ meaning of friendship.” Harry sneered. “But James and his wife died in the war, as did Peter. You only have Remus now, Sirius. He’s the only one holding you back, isn’t he?”

Sirius remained silent. “You can feel your magic, Sirius.” He reached out a hand and placed it on his cousin’s chest. “It’s unsettled.” The man’s magic jumped to him, almost pleading him. Soon, lovely, he whispered mentally. “Did you ever think, perhaps, Remus would accept you if you decided to go dark? Dark isn’t so much about killing, Sirius. Although I will admit that they do enjoy killing their enemies and a few useless muggles, it isn’t all about the number of people you’ve slain, its about practicing the magic you crave… its about standing up for what you want.”

Harry grinned. “Look at me, I’m dark. And I’ve only killed one.” Poor Weasley. “And that was out of revenge, a simple desire. You see, being on the dark side, you can do anything you want without having to worry about the consequences. Your magic will grow and mature. The Ministry wants to ban wizards with dark magic. But you see, we need to perform the magic. It’s in our blood, as it is in yours. That’s the only reason why light and dark don’t mix. Because they think we don’t need to cast dark magic. That’s pathetic. We do. And we’ll fight to keep it that way.”

He stood up, stroking Sirius’ cheek on his way out. “I’ll let you think on that, Sirius. Come to me when you’re ready to face who you really are.”

--SSC--

“Everyone is going, Harrison. Please. Mother begged me to convince you to come.” Draco pleaded. “It’s a black tie event. No robes, a lot of alcohol and almost all the Slytherins are going… and if that isn’t your thing, father is inviting a lot of politicians.”

Harry’s eye twitched. Most the castle was empty and Harry decided to stay at Hogwarts for the Holidays. Pity. Longbottom was gone, out of his reach. It seemed as if he would have to work on the boy after break. Even Sirius retreated away with his werewolf lover. Really, how boring. But he’d rather have ‘boring’ than living with Lucius and a wide open space for the Dark Lord to visit. He wouldn’t have it.

Unfortunately, Draco was staying with him and Blaise, the two never shut up.

“I’m not going,” he looked at his brother. Draco was dressed in an elegant tuxedo with a green and silver tie. His hair was loose, blonde strands falling in his face. The rings on his fingers looked as if they were recently shined and polished as they blinked at him in sapphire blues and clear crystal. Malfoy colors, how quaint.

“Please, Harrison? Mother-,”

“I think you should go, Harrison.” Blaise was lying on his bed, looking at his fingernails. “I was invited but I declined when I learned that you weren’t going. If you want, I’ll come with you. Malfoy’s right, there’s alcohol there… you haven’t even tried any of the good stuff. I’ll make sure you’ll get wasted.”

Draco curled his lip. “Pleasant, Zabini, as always.” He turned back around to Harry. “Are you coming or not?”

“No,” Harry snapped. “Stop asking me. You’re already late and mother will be worried. Now go.”

“There are gifts for you-,” Harry turned his back on his brother, looking down at the homework he had for potions. Draco sighed. “She’ll be devastated you know. She always loves Christmas with both of us. And the Dark Lord told father he wouldn’t be there-,”

“Bloody hell, he’s probably lying. The Dark Lord knows I wouldn’t want to go if he is attending, which is why he told Lucius to tell you he wasn’t going.” Harry snapped. “Leave, Draco, before I get truly annoyed and will never step anywhere near the manor again.” Draco gave a deep sigh and left in a snobbish pureblood manor.

“Merlin, finally,” Blaise remarked as he scooted closer to Harry. Blaise’s fingers took the quill from Harry’s grip and slid his hand up his arm in a suggestive manner.

“Haven’t you learned the last time?” Harry remarked, looking pointedly at Blaise’s crotch. The boy hadn’t really remembered anything but pain. His dick was still in place, but it was almost if he were pissing bloody acid. It wasn’t a fun experience, one that Harry would rather not repeat.

“Do you not find me attractive?” Blaise whispered huskily, leaning closer. The black wizard had found a new sense of confidence. The threat of Voldemort breathing down his neck didn’t seem to bother him in the least. And that bothered Harry.

“I find you more than attractive.”

“Really?” Blaise murmured. “Am I an even match to you?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Blaise?”

“You’re so beautiful, Harrison. You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Blaise scoffed. “I haven’t seen the Dark Lord, but I heard he’s handsome himself. Am I in league with you and him? Am I worthy enough to be with you?”

Harry reached forward and traced the boy’s artistic face. “The Dark Lord isn’t handsome. It’s his mask. You know that. He’s over sixty years old.”

“But he has enough magic to keep his youthfulness.”

“I’m not going to argue about this, Blaise. The Dark Lord is handsome, yes. But I don’t look for superficial things when I get together with someone. Really, I’d thought you’d know me better than that.” Harry breathed. “I just don’t feel right being with you, Blaise. Not just because of the infidelity, but because he’s going to kill you.”

“Exactly,” Blaise agreed. “He is going to kill me as soon as he can get his hands on me. With that in mind, I figure why not just be together until he comes after me?”

“I’ll protect you from him, Zabini.” Harry murmured. “Don’t think I won’t defend you.” The black boy remained quiet. “Why don’t we go to the ball? I’m sure we can find something to do…”

He regretted his own words.

--SSC—

Harry played with his high collard jacket. It wasn’t a tuxedo, like Draco’s, more like a fancy sports jacket. “You look beautiful,” Blaise breathed. “Shaggable.” He reached out a hand and messed up Harry’s hair. The smaller wizard glared.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Zabini.” Blaise smirked, straightening his suit. Harry turned to look down the balcony at the party. Everyone was down there, drinking and talking. Blaise and he would have to go down the stairs in order to reach the party… in front of everyone. There was a side room next to the main dance floor. Inside, Harry knew where most the Hogwarts students were. They were having their ‘own’ little Christmas celebration, a celebration planned by Draco.

“Let’s look for Narcissa and then we can make our way to the side room where the rest of the students are. I don’t feel like chatting up old stiffs tonight.”

Blaise laughed, agreeing. Harry leaned over the railing. He looked first for any lilac smelling men. There weren’t any. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t here tonight. It just meant that he wanted to stay hidden. Or maybe he really wasn’t here.

“There she is, looking as gorgeous as ever…” there was a slight hesitant tone in Blaise’s tone. Harry saw why just seconds later. She looked far too skinny and pale. Yes, she was strikingly pale normally, but she looked almost sickingly so. Her makeup probably hid most of the brunt of her appearance… “She kind of looks like you… I mean, with your weight and all-,”

Harry sighed, moving away from the balcony and making his way to the curving staircase. It was now or never. At least there was no servant, announcing his name like last time. They were far too late for that. Taking a deep breath, he all but ran down the stairs. Blaise chuckled after him, running just as fast. Harry grinned as he reached the bottom step. He was sure they weren’t unseen, but at least they weren’t the focal point.

He locked eyes with Lucius as he made his way toward Narcissa. Giving his father a cold stare, he turned his shoulder on the man, continuing on his way. Narcissa was dressed in a simple, but beautiful blue dress. It wasn’t full, but hugged her delicate frame nicely. Her pale curls were pinned up, showing the curve of her neck.

She was sipping on champagne, facing away from him. He grinned, stopping behind her and kissing her neck. “Hello mother,” he had to remind himself that Narcissa wasn’t the one to blame for everything.

She turned around with a gasp, almost dropping her long stemmed glass. “Harrison, my son,” she moaned, leaning down to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. “I’ve missed you so much.” With one arm, she grabbed Harry around the waist, bringing him flush against her chest.

Harry felt guilt in his stomach. She looked horrible. To strangers, they would only see her beauty, but to him, he could see her unhealthy flaw. “Mother, you look horrible.” He whispered, hugging her back. “Is everything alright?”

Tears clung to her lashes. “I’ve missed you,” she said softly. “After what happened, I only could imagine you not coming back. Ever. And you never returned my owls…”

“I’m here now, mother, aren’t I?” He tried to soothe her. Her thin frame seemed to shake in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Harrison. I should have-,”

“Mother, please,” Harry started, tightening his arms. “You knew it was wrong of him and you told him it was wrong. But you also played the part of a loyal wife. I understand your dilemma and I have come to terms with it. I don’t blame you. Please, believe that. I don’t blame you.” He repeated.

“You’re so thin-,” She whispered. “Poor child, I could only imagine what you went through. I wish I could have been there with you.” She sniffed and Harry remained still in her clutch. “But you’re right, you’re here now.” She mourned, pulling away to stroke his hair. “Lets not dwell on the past tonight. Tonight, I’d like to dance with you before you go off with Mr. Zabini to Draco’s party.”

Harry flushed, looking at the dance floor. One thing he hated. Dancing with women who were taller than him. His mother was tall, probably just as tall as his father. He felt like a little boy. “Er,”

Her hand laid on his shoulder. “Please Harrison? Just this once.” Her eyes pleaded and a gentle smile pulled at her lips. He was such a pushover…

“Alright,” he held out his hand formally. “May I have this dance, my Lady?” Blaise snickered, leaning against the refreshment table, taking pleasure in watching. Narcissa placed her hand in her son’s, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

The guests parted for mother and son, smiling at him as they passed. There were a couple of men and women on the floor already and the classical song had just ended. They seemed to take notice of the Lady of the house and the son, and chose to leave the dance floor, opening it up for just Narcissa and him. Harry all but groaned, feeling his cheeks grow warm as they stood in the middle of all the stares.

All by themselves.

He used his pureblood mannerisms to control his expression. His shoulders were stiff and his face was an emotionless mask. Narcissa settled into the same role, looking like a cold queen to the outside stares.

Lowering his eyes, he took a moment to compose himself before the music began. When he was younger, his parents drilled both he and Draco into the art of pureblood mannerisms and customs. And one of those traditions had to do with dancing. While Draco took a long while to teach, Narcissa claimed Harry was a natural born dancer. He was born with grace and agility. She often teased Lucius that Harry was the best dancer in the house.

Ever since then, Harry hadn’t gotten the opportunity to really dance in front of others. Not like this. Not with the occupants watching him closely and not with the woman of grace.

When the music came on, Harry’s eyes widened a fraction. Merlin, it was their song. Narcissa and he always used to dance to it. It was a beautiful song, mostly slow in the beginning and slowly gaining in intensity. They had always enjoyed dancing to it, always bursting out in laughter when they were alone and finished.

She smiled at him knowingly.

Giving her a stiff bow at the waist, she curtsied back to him.

And then they met together.

She smiled at him as he took her hand in his and led her around the floor. “Pureblood’s are so formal, Harrison, are they not?” Harry raised an eyebrow. Narcissa always scolded him not to ‘talk’ during a dance. It was impolite to both the art of dancing and the music- and it looked ridiculous to the viewers. “I thought you’d might come tonight, so I inquired after playing this song for the both of us.”

“It’s a very beautiful song, mother.” Harry spun them quickly, grinning. “It carries a lot of memories.”

She smiled, seemingly loosing her mask. “I wish we could have had more moments like this, Harrison. You’re so grown up now; you don’t need me any longer, do you?”

“I’ll always need you.” Harry tisked. “You’re my mother.”

She gave him a sad smile as they twisted their hands together and twirled. He loved the feeling of getting dizzy while dancing. His feet took over for him and he allowed the song to guide him. “You’ll go far in life, Harrison.” She said proudly, tiredly. “I am so very proud of you, remember that.” Such fierceness in her eyes…

Harry frowned, feeling his mother apply more of her weight on him. “Mother-,” he missed a step and he stumbled as she collapsed in his arms. Around him, the spectators gasped loudly. His legs shook as he tried to hold both of them up. Over her shoulder he locked eyes with Lucius. The man was grey as he hurried forward.

He didn’t reach them in time.

Harry collapsed on the floor, cradling his mother’s head gently. His body was shaking in fear and horror as he stared down at her slack face. This couldn’t be happening… oh Merlin no. Harry gasped thickly, feeling dry sobs shudder his frame. Lucius fell to his knees, reaching around Harry to feel for a pulse. There was one; Harry could see it in her aura. It flickered lightly, barely even there.

Lucius turned to yell something at the guests, but Harry was deaf. Nothing was comprehensible as he stared at his mother’s prone body on the floor. What happened? Why? Lucius turned to look at him, his eyes saddened. “Harrison,” Harry began to breath heavily and quickly, not being able to get enough air in his lungs. Lucius reached for him and pulled back as he felt the brunt of Harry’s Seer.

Pythia always said that when a Seer experienced such strong emotions, they unconsciously gave off those vibes to the people around them. Harry was sure they were all feeling his angst, his pain… Merlin. His mother…

“Harrison, sweetie,” arms pulled him from behind, trying to lift him from the floor. It was Pythia. She clutched his arms, his back to her chest. One of her hands splayed his Seer mark, sending soothing waves through him. It didn’t work that way with a Seer to Seer. His emotions and hers clashed, making him slump in her arms. He felt numb. There were no emotions. She picked him up, and Harry stood, his eyes dilated.

He watched through a veil as a Healer ran to Narcissa’s side.

Nothing much mattered.

“Come; let’s bring you away from here.”

And she did. But Harry could hardly recollect anything after seeing his mother collapse.