Chapter: 23

A/n: A lot happens in this chapter. :o

Chapter Twenty Three: Your Presence Still Lingers Here

“What’s wrong with her?” Lucius jumped at the voice. He was sitting beside Narcissa’s bed, clutching her cold hand in his. Behind him, Lord Voldemort stood in the doorway, observing. His red eyes seemed to be fiercer today as Lucius could feel them piercing his back.

“She has a disease, My Lord, the Lewd disease.” He replied numbly, staring at her motionless face. He felt the Dark Lord enter the room.

“The incest disease?” Voldemort inquired disgustedly. Lucius closed his eyes briefly.

“Her bloodlines were closely bred, My Lord. The Black family is notorious for interbreeding…” and with interbreeding, wizards resulted in the Lewd disease at times. It was pure chance with whoever received the disease. Narcissa was unfortunate to receive the disease; she shouldn’t have been punished for something her ancestors had done. Lucius bowed his head, holding her hand. She was the world to him, and now, now the disease took the upper hand.

“She had fought it most of her life, My Lord. The Healers said she’d survive and fight off the disease successfully. Over the course of this year, it’s spread.” It affected the immune system. It ate away at its hosts’ body and magic. Eventually, the host would weaken and perish. Narcissa had been such a fighter…

“Have you gotten him tested?”

Him. Lucius should have known the Dark Lord wouldn’t care much about Narcissa. The man had a one track mind when it came to his son. “At birth,” Lucius murmured. “Neither he nor Draco had the disease then.”

“Then,” Voldemort hissed. “That was over sixteen years ago, Lucius. The Lewd disease can develop in early years. Have you not tested them recently?” Lucius remained silent, stroking Narcissa’s hand. “I want him tested.”

“Yes My Lord.”

The man came in further, looking down his nose at Narcissa. There was a slight curl to his lip as he studied her and crimson eyes were void of any emotion. “Her death will destroy him,” he glanced across the room. Lucius glanced up, seeing the picture the Dark Lord was looking at. In the private chambers of their bedroom, Narcissa hung many pictures; pictures that showed emotion, not their pureblood masks to the public. There was one picture in particular that he, himself, always stood and stared at in wonder.

Harrison was being embraced from behind by his mother. On his face, was the largest smile Lucius had ever seen from his son. He was laughing, embracing his mother’s arms, pulling her closer. Narcissa looked radiant as she lovingly nuzzled Harry’s cheek.

“I know,” Lucius rasped, feeling his throat constrict. He remembered seeing Harrison’s expression as she collapsed. He’d never forget it.

“Does he know?”

“Yes, I told him earlier today.” Lucius flashed the Dark Lord a bitter smile. “Of course he accused me of withholding the truth once again before running out. Somewhere…”

“Do you know where he went?” Lucius knew, without a doubt, that the Dark Lord would look for Harrison no matter what he said to try to convince him that the boy needed space.

“He just ran,” Lucius ran a hand through his hair. “When he doesn’t want to be found, he disappears successfully. He did that as a little boy, always hiding in the manor.” He frowned, realizing that he needed sleep. He was speaking far too much to the Dark Lord. After the ritual, the man distanced himself from Lucius, easily treating him like scum. Now, now the Dark Lord seemed half way lenient. Perhaps it was because Harrison was no longer at Hogwarts and vulnerable to the Dark Lord… he didn’t know. With the Dark Lord, he would never know.

His spidery hand landed on Narcissa’s forehead. “You know I’d help find a cure…”

“For him?” Lucius replied bitterly. “Not for her, but for him.” The Dark Lord sneered at him and Lucius lowered his gaze. “I apologize.”

“I think you know the answer to your own question, Lucius. If I could cure his mother, I would. It is far too late for that, alas. You should have come to me earlier.” Voldemort gave Narcissa one last sweeping gaze before he turned his heel and left the room.

“Remember to get him tested, Lucius.”

--SSC--

“Er, Harry?” Neville questioned, opening his door. Harry gave him a small smile. How could he give a big one when he felt so empty? “Come in, I heard about your mother. Merlin, I’m so sorry. Is she alright?”

She was dying. She hadn’t woken up since the night of the collapse, which happened to be two days ago. His father told him it was an interbreed disease… they had kept it from Draco and him all this time. She thought she had been strong enough to survive with it inside her. How wrong she was.

He felt his throat constrict. Tears had not fallen yet. Not when there was still hope.

Narcissa was strong enough. She’d live.

Harry knew that.

“Actually,” Harry whispered, looking past Neville’s shoulder inside the house. “That’s why I came here. I mean… if it’s too much trouble I can always talk to you later. I just needed someone-,” he started rambling. It was all for show, of course. Today, this minute was what it came down to. He had to manipulate Neville in a few hours. He needed to. Originally, he had wanted to extend his playing with the Golden Trio for the rest of the school year. But current issues made him rethink his plan.

He needed to get busy. And with his mother ill, why not take his mind elsewhere?

“Ah, no, Harry, please, come in.” Neville stammered as he opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Gran is sleeping. She’d love to meet you but-,”

“It’s alright,” Harry whispered. He took a deep breath. His Seer reached out and gently stroked Neville, the boy subconsciously shifted closer. “How are you doing? I mean, with Ron’s death and all.” Again, he took away the grief and loss he saw in Neville and replaced it with hope and brightness.

Neville’s shoulders relaxed as he motioned Harry up the stairs. “It’s hard. I mean, Ron was my best mate and all…” Harry sneered at the boy’s back once he turned around. “He was everything to me. We shared everything.”

The Longbottom manor wasn’t anything spectacular. It would never be able to hold a flame to the Malfoy manor. The color scheme was warm, with crimsons and…egh…was that gold? Gryffindor colors? Pathetic. Horribly, pathetic. This was the home of the boy-who-lived and his grandmother, nothing extravagant. “Yeah, I saw as much.” Harry remarked, turning the corner with Neville.

The Gryffindor brought him to his bedroom and Harry tried to repress a smirk. “I’m sorry,” Neville grinned sheepishly. “Would you like anything to eat or drink? I know it’s late but I could get you something.” What, no house elves?

“I’m fine, thank you.” Harry pulled at his sleeves, looking around the boy’s room. There was all but a shrine of all his friends. Harry felt his lip curl as he stared at all the photos, looking in particular, at the Golden Trio. My…wasn’t Longbottom popular.

Neville took a step closer, instantly telling Harry that he was ‘ready’. Green eyes flashed up at the boy-who-lived’s face, studying him. Harry reached out and brushed back Neville’s hair. “You know, I envy you.” Harry whispered, swallowing his bile. Neville flushed, ready to protest…which he should, but Harry interrupted. “You’re powerful, you’re smart, you’re kind and generous… you have a heart of gold.”

He turned away from Neville, looking ashamed.

“Hey, Harry, don’t talk like that. You’re just as much as those things as I am.” Neville stepped closer to Harry.

“No I’m not,” Harry murmured. “I’m the reason my mother is ill.” He allowed Neville’s hesitant hands to rest on his shoulders. Merlin. This was difficult…the touching…the lying… but he was proud of himself. This was his first manipulation, his first puppet. “I’m so selfish, it just… it’s all a mess.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Neville. I was stupid for coming here.”

“I can help you, Harry.” Of course he could. He had a hero complex, after all; foolish Gryffindor, that was one of his biggest weaknesses. “Whatever you need, I can help you.”

Harry turned and sat on the edge of the bed. He played with the silence and felt the mattress dip as Longbottom sat down next to him. “My mother was attacked by the Dark Lord.” Neville gave a mysterious noise in his chest. Probably confusion, after all, weren’t the Malfoy’s notorious for following the Dark Lord? “You might think, or have heard that Lucius is a Death Eater…” Harry started, feeling his stomach jump in anticipation.

“I might have heard that somewhere.” Neville started off a little hesitantly.

Harry rotated his body around and stared straight into the boy’s eyes. Neville was vulnerable right now, with his friend’s death. If Harry weren’t a Seer, he wouldn’t know if his plan would work or not, but now, with both Neville’s loss and his Seer, he knew he had the boy on his hook. Longbottom wasn’t exactly known for being smart, even if he was, he was no match for Harry’s manipulations and Seer combined.

“Well, he is a Death Eater.” Neville stiffened. “My mother, brother, and I were disappointed to learn that he bore the mark. But we were even more disappointed when he agreed to give Voldemort both of us. Draco and I.”

His fingers played with the package in his pocket. “Draco and I didn’t want to become Death Eaters. And my mother, my sweet mother,” he broke off, looking at the ceiling. “She tried protecting us. She succeeded, but my brother didn’t get away unscratched. You saw his burns the other day, didn’t you?”

Neville grimaced, looking horrified. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I am,” Harry said a little bit too harshly. He soothed Neville’s restless emotions. “He barely made it alive. I got away because of my power… but my mother was cursed by the Dark Lord. She’s struggling with a certain…hex he gave her that day.” Harry looked down, shaking his head. “I don’t know if she’ll make it.”

“Merlin, Harry…”

Harry looked up at Neville, pouring in trust and pity. “I’ve talked with Dumbledore on some manners, Neville.” He played with the package in his pocket and took it out. It was wrapped in tissue and without touching the object inside; he spread the tissue and showed it to Neville.

The boy jumped backward, breathing heavily. “The Slytherin locket! Where did you get this?” The Dark Lord gave it to me…

“My father-,” he stuttered on purpose. “My father had it. I stole it from him.” He stared down at the glittering emeralds, feeling drawn in. “You know the meetings that Dumbledore and I have been having? I’m sure you’ve taken notice of our get-togethers, Neville.” He saw jealousy in Neville and had to hide a smile. The boy was so easy… Merlin.

“Yes,” Neville strangled out, his eyes never leaving the locket.

“He’s told me all about the Horcruxes…and in return, I told him about my family situation. He’s also told me that he’s been teaching you about Riddle’s history…his Horcruxes in particular.” Not really, I’ve just Seen their meetings.

“He’s told you all that?” Neville seemed shocked, but he was slowly warming up to Harry on his own. After all, he was an idiot. Neville wouldn’t think, for one moment, that Harry Saw it in a vision. He thought that if Harry knew Dumbledore’s and his secrets, he could be trusted.

“Yes,” Harry motioned to the locket. “He’s been out hunting for the other Horcruxes…and he’s still out there, Neville. He’s shared with me the Prophecy regarding both you and the Dark Lord.”

Longbottom’s eyes bugged out. “Really? You know-,”

‘That you are the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord,” Harry whispered huskily. His heart was pounding and the taste of victory tasted so close… Merlin. He was close. Just a few more steps, a few more pulls… and his puppet would be complete. “That’s why I brought you this.” Neville stared at the locket. “This will be the last Horcrux. Well, that and the Dark Lord himself and his snake…”

“What do you want me to do,” Neville set his jaw. “I want that bastard gone.” Pity the ‘bastard’ wanted to keep this idiot alive…

Harry gave a thin smile, yanking the locket away as Neville reached for it. “Not yet, you can’t touch it yet, Neville. You see, I’ve spent a long time studying the affects of hexes. I’ve charmed this locket so that when someone touches it, the curse will eat away their magic. They’ll be weakened considerably…” He slowly put it closer to Neville’s face. The boy leaned backward, away from it. “That’s why I’ll be giving you a box to carry it in. You’ll deliver it to the Dark Lord yourself, in disguise of course…”

“What?” Neville paled. “You want me to deliver it to him?”

Harry frowned sadly, batting his eyelashes in a lazy manner. Neville flushed in lust, looking away to gather himself. “You will be dressed up in a Death Eater’s robes. I have a set just for you, actually. Once you get inside the Dark Lord’s hideout, you’ll request to anyone that stops you that you have a package from Harrison Malfoy to the Dark Lord. And if they try to take it from you, tell them it’s a private matter between Harrison Malfoy and the Dark Lord.” Harry repeated. “They will leave you alone; I have no doubt about that.”

“They won’t be suspicious?” Neville asked, confused. “I thought you were a traitor-,”

Harry sighed, looking ashamed. “The Dark Lord has a thing for me…if you will.” Neville looked clueless. Foolish….Idiot! “He takes on bed partners, Neville. He raped me….” He ran his free hand up and down his arm, looking sick. “He wants to keep me as a pet. Merlin, Neville, I feel so dirty.”

He faked a tear, allowing it to run down his cheek. “If I could be in your position, I would.” He said fiercely. “I want to be the one delivering it to him…”

“Bloody hell,” Neville whispered. Harry felt his disgust and pity. This was perfect, he was perfect. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I never knew things like that happened…” Of course he didn’t. Harry sneered mentally. Neville was far too sheltered for his own good.

Longbottom reached out to caress Harry’s shoulder. “Tell me what the rest of the plan is, Harry. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him down.”

Good.

“Nothing really is too difficult. Once you arrive near the Dark Lord, you’ll tell him your have a delivery from me. Naturally, he’ll take it. And when he opens it and touches the locket with his bare hands, he’ll become weakened incredibly and that’s your time to strike. I’ll give you the Gryffindor sword, Neville. And you stab that bastard, you understand? Stab him, the locket, and the snake if it’s by him.”

Neville looked flabbergasted. “Will the locket really weaken him?” Green eyes flashed. Again, he poured trust and determination into the boy.

“Do you doubt me? Dumbledore approved of the hex… you know his gloved hand? I’m sure you’ve seen it tarnished.” Neville nodded, grimacing at the memory. “It’s because he touched the Gaunt Ring. It had the same hex on it that I put on this locket. Dumbledore barely survived and the Dark Lord will be just the same. He’ll be weakened entirely.” Harry motioned the locket closer to the boy. “Would you like to try it out?”

“No,” Neville was green. “I believe you and Dumbledore.” He paused. “But I don’t have the Gryffindor sword, that’s in Dumbledore’s office.”

“Neville,” Harry tisked. “Don’t you think he knows about this plan? When I visit him tonight, he’ll ask me what your answer is. When I tell him you’re all for it, he’ll give me the Gryffindor sword.” Longbottom nodded. “Good, now,” Harry placed the locket back in the tissue and in his robe pocket. “I’ll be giving you a port key, just in case things don’t work out the way they should.” Neville looked relieved.

“Ok, good,” he smiled at Harry and Harry smiled back. He leaned forward. “I want this to work out, Harry. For the wizarding world and for you. We both have suffered so much from him… I would like to make it better. You suffered so much silently. Will you open up to me after all this? Can we be friends? Or…maybe more?” He leaned closer and Harry swallowed, feeling the boy’s soft lips touch his own.

Neville was far too…soft. And not silky velvety smooth, soft- it was a…mushy and far too… blubbery. Harry gave a shocked moan as Neville pushed him back harshly on the bed, their lips still connected together. Harry supposed Neville’s own desperation and Harry’s Seer influence was making the boy far more confident. That, plus the boy probably thought he was going on a live saving mission, and decided to… do things he’s always wanted to do.

And to make matters even more awkward, Harry could feel Riddle’s soul inside Neville purring in excitement.

“You’re so…beautiful…” Neville growled huskily. “I’ve never seen a boy as handsome as you.” His hands roamed Harry’s thin waist and hips, tugging on the pants.

Merlin, this was happening, wasn’t it? This wasn’t a nightmare.

His hands pushed at Neville’s chest, pushing his leech-like lips off him. “I can’t do this right now, Neville. With my mother and all-,”

“Oh Merlin, I’m such a git, I’m sorry.” Neville was red in the face as he scrambled off Harry. “After all you’ve been through- I’m a git.”

Harry sighed in annoyance. It was time for him to leave. Longbottom was getting on his last nerves. “It’s alright, Neville.” Harry grinned at the boy, brushing his fingers across the sensitive neck. “Next time we do that, we’ll have to position ourselves the right way.” Neville frowned in confusion.

Egh, stupid boy.

“I’m a top, love.” He explained further.

Neville’s eyes widened as he looked at Harry’s small frame up and down. “Really?” he squeaked. Longbottom’s cheeks grew red. “Sorry,” he looked away at Harry’s glower. “I just feel so…connected with you, you know? Its weird, I only feel comfortable around you since Ron’s death.” Neville looked down at his lap.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Harry turned the conversation around. “We can always postpone it.” No, we can’t.

“No, no,” Neville shook his head furiously. “It’s my burden to carry. I’m the one that is destined to kill Voldemort. It’s time I face it.” He looked uncomfortable. “Harry?” Having stood up, Harry raised an eyebrow, looking down at the boy. “After everything, I was wondering if you and I could…further our…relationship? I’ve never been with a boy and I never thought I’d want to be. But with you, it feels so right.”

Harry smiled sweetly, inside, he was spitting with disgust. “Of course, Neville, I’ll show you a few things that I’m sure you’ll enjoy.” He leaned forward and caressed his lips to the boy’s. Immediately, Riddle spiked, reaching out to him possessively. And Harry knew, as soon as Neville shot out his hands to grab hold of his face, that Riddle was taking over.

He pulled back, eyes widening as he saw crimson eyes staring out at him. It wasn’t the Voldemort he knew, no, this was a younger soul of Riddle. “Beautiful,” Neville whispered with Riddle, grinning.

Red eyes melted into blue once Harry pulled away further. Disturbing. It had to be because they were Matches. Riddle’s soul inside Longbottom awakened when it was around Harry. It recognized him as his Match, his only one to match in power. Harry slightly preferred the younger spirit of Riddle to the older. It recognized him as an equal.

He cleared his throat, pulling at his sleeves. Neville was breathless and aroused, slumping on the bed. “I’ll see you shortly, Neville. Then I’ll give you the Death Eater robes, the sword, and the box containing the locket.” He smiled at the boy. “Good luck, love.”

“Thanks…” Neville slurred.

Now… on to phase two of four.

--SSC--

“It’s rather late, Harrison. Is there something a matter?” Dumbledore opened the door to his rooms. The office was darkened, only a small candle lit the shadows.

“Yes, Headmaster, something is very wrong.” Harry walked inside the office, looking around. His eyes landed on the Gryffindor sword. It glimmered in the glass case. “If I could have a moment of your time, sir?” His fingers dipped under his collar and played with the gold chain.

With pleasure, he watched the Headmaster’s eyes follow the motion, darkening. “Is it your mother? You’d you like to talk about her?”

“My mother is getting much better, thank you.” He replied easily, sitting down on one of the chairs uninvitingly. Dumbledore and him had many close conversations ever since the ritual ended and Harry planned his revenge. The conversations were always forced, fake- on both ends. But…what could he do? He couldn’t exactly force himself on Dumbledore. The man had solid Occlumency shields. Even his Seer had trouble penetrating through them.

“Is she?” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, coming to stand against his desk. Interesting. He wasn’t sitting. It looked as if Dumbledore had feel for his bait. “The last I heard she-,”

“She’s fine,” Harry said, believing it himself. She was. Merlin, she was a strong witch. A disease couldn’t bring her down so easily. “Actually, I would like to talk to you about Neville.” He pulled at the chain around his neck again, smirking as Dumbledore watched him once again. “I just…I’m disappointed, really. I wanted to enjoy him a little bit longer, but it seems as if my time is up.”

Blue eyes hardened and narrowed. “What are you speaking of?” Dumbledore straightened up.

“Neville and I came up with a plan to bring down Tom Riddle.” Harry looked down at his finger tangled up in the chain and sheepishly dropped it under his clothes again. “Is Neville like a grandson to you, Headmaster?” Harry drawled sweetly, green eyes all but glowing.

“You’re just like him,” Dumbledore spoke fiercely, his aura growing. “You two are the same person, the same monster. What did you do to Neville?”

“I didn’t do anything to him,” Harry drawled. “I just configured a plan that would help him defeat the Dark Lord. Just what you wanted, right? I thought you wanted him to be the hero, to be the all powerful hero…” Harry trailed off, smirking up at the old man. “He’s going to visit the Dark Lord tomorrow. His head is so big…”

Dumbledore’s magic lashed out and struck at Harry. His small frame was pasted rigidly to the chair, unable to move anything but his eyes. His heart rate accelerated and Dumbledore took an advancing step forward. He watched as gnarled fingers grabbed the locket around his neck and yanked it off him. “n..no…” Harry breathed, wheezing through Dumbledore’s spell. The man looked down, frowning at him with the locket in his grasp.

“As I said earlier, Harrison, you and Tom are very much alike,” Dumbledore strolled around his desk, carrying the Slytherin locket in his fingers. He looked up gravely at the frozen Harry. “Both of you are so very arrogant.”

Harry glared, watching as the man grabbed the Gryffindor sword from the glass case. Merlin…he was going to do it….

“After I destroy the Horcrux, you’ll be taken into custody. I’m afraid I cannot trust you any longer.” Dumbledore placed the locket on the desk. Harry’s eyes widened as he watched Dumbledore pull back the sword. “It’s a pity we’ll be loosing you; you are a very strong wizard.”

And with that, he brought down the sword and pierced the locket.

It screamed and Harry screamed.

And then he grinned as the hold Dumbledore’s magic had on him vanished. He watched through hungry eyes as Dumbledore gasped, holding his gloved hand to his chest. The hand curled around the sword shakily let go of the hilt.

Standing up from the chair, Harry cracked his neck, taking a step forward. “And you, Headmaster, are so predictable.” Harry looked down at the destroyed locket and then at Dumbledore. “You see, Headmaster, that wasn’t the real Horcrux, it was a faux.” The old man coughed up blood, his eyes wide and pained. “I knew you would stab me in the back the moment you could and take the Horcrux. I knew you saw it as soon as he gave it to me.” Harry tisked, grinning. “Six years ago… at the young age of eleven. You saw the Horcrux around me. And ever since then, you’ve tried to come up with ways to manipulate me…”

Dumbledore slumped to the floor behind his desk, shuddering and wheezing. The blood coming out from his mouth stained his beard and dripped to the floor in sweet droplets. Harry paused by the Gryffindor sword, considering it. Taking out a glove from his cloak, he pulled it on and touched the hilt of the sword. It was warm, but not as warm as it would have been if he didn’t have a glove on.

“Look at that,” Harry breathed, holding up the sword. “A Slytherin using the Gryffindor sword, ironic, isn’t it?” He looked down at Dumbledore. The man was suffering from the project Harry had slaved away with for the past few weeks. It was utterly dark and powerful. It had taken him a lot of his energy and power creating it. But he succeeded. On the outside, it gave off dark vibes, vibes that were very similar to a Horcrux.

And whoever attempted to destroy it, was destroyed from the inside out. Even the sword of Gryffindor couldn’t yield to the results. Harry was very proud of his creation. Voldemort hadn’t even thought of it…

“You know what would be even more ironic, Albus?” Harry whispered softly. “If a Gryffindor died by the Gryffindor sword.” Harry’s mouth twisted as he watched Dumbledore’s magic struggle to help him out. It was ineffective, of course.

“You will…you’ll loose. Just like him.”

“You compare Tom and I together, Dumbledore… as if you didn’t know we were almost exact replicas of each other.” Harry gave a dark chuckle. “We are a like, yes. And we will succeed… pity you were already dying anyway. But I suppose I can take partial credit.”

“You silly…child…” Dumbledore smiled through bloody teeth. “Death is yet the next great adventure.” Harry lost his smile, grimacing. Pythia had said that… “And that’s why you are alike him… so cowardly of death…”

Harry tipped back his head and laughed, clutching the sword tighter. “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, old fool. I am not afraid of death. In fact, I’m welcoming it at this point in my life. You think you’re all high and mighty…” Harry spat, feeling rage clutch his chest.

“You are nothing but a child…” Child.

Child.

Dumbledore prodded and pushed…

And Harry growled. “I am not a child.” He raised the sword and brought it down on Dumbledore’s chest. The man shuddered as the sword sliced through his body and connecting to the wood floor below him.

The man jerked once more, his magic spitting across the room.

And then he was no more.

Harry breathed heavily, his face splattered with crimson droplets from his enemy. “And revenge never tasted so good…” Harry’s hands shook as they took the sword out of the old fool’s body. With his magic, he froze the portraits in place. They would never be able to speak a word about this to anyway. Not until Harry unfroze them himself.

Looking at the blood covered sword and the body, Harry took a deep breath, calming himself. It was his second murder. He didn’t know what he felt as he stared down at the lifeless eyes of Dumbledore. Seeing the body… it wasn’t as satisfying as it had been when he was getting his revenge. He felt some guilt over what he did and he supposed that should be normal. He didn’t want to become a cold blooded killer.

But he did want to extract revenge to those that had wronged him.

If he kept by that personal moral, he supposed he wouldn’t turn into something that he would be ashamed of. He would never kill out of cold blood. There had to be a reason why or else he wouldn’t commit that murder. Assassins stuck by that code of honor. They only killed those that had committed crimes or who deserved the killings…

Harry shook himself, taking a deep breath.

He needed to keep going. His plan wasn’t finished yet.

--SSC--

Snape played with the Death Eater mask as he strode toward the exit of the castle. The halls were empty and dark, reminding him that it was the Holidays. He was being summoned for reasons unknown. The Dark Lord usually never called this late at night.

“You once told me Professor…” Severus halted, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Harrison Malfoy sitting so calmly on a bench, out looking the grounds. The moonlight played on a blade he held in his hand. The metallic glimmered, almost blinding him.

“You once told me that ‘as long as I kept up my studies and push myself magically, I won’t need to ‘fit in’.” Harry whispered. Snape tensed, pausing. “You said people will be following me at my heels and begging me to pay attention to them.”

Silence.

“I will never forget that.” Harry smiled wistfully into the moon. Snape watched as his fingers caressed the sword’s hilt, twirling the point on the floor. “You said that to me when I felt as if I were no one. I was young and foolish and didn’t take your words to heart. But now, as I sit here, I think back to how right you were.” Snape watched as Harrison stood up, looking a little worse for wear in the moonlight.

“Because you picked me up when I was down, I will return the favor to you.” Harry started walking away. Snape could only stare as the boy made his way further down the hall. “Don’t go to the meeting tonight, Severus. Not unless you’re ready to be tortured to death. Go back into your rooms and think long and hard on your alliance.”

Goose bumps ran the lengths of his arms as Harrison murmured his last words.

Looking down at his mask, he frowned.

--SSC--

He was clutching her hand, shaking.

Lord Voldemort turned in his sleep, frowning.

And then he was no longer in his body, but watching from the outside as his Match buried his face into her lifeless body. Around him, Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy stood, their faces heavy with loss. Around him, the room crackled with raw magic, freezing the bedposts and the picture frames. The room was heavy with sorrow and he felt drowned in it.

Harrison lifted his head, a face absent of tears as they stared at his dead mother.

And then Voldemort sat up in bed, gathering his cloak and leaving the room in one motion. Before he disapparated, he touched his fingers to his cheek. Frowning, he pulled it back, staring at the wet moisture.

Tears.

His Match had made him cry.

Grimacing at the thought, he hurried down the corridor.

As much as he may want to avoid these emotions, Harrison was subconsciously calling for him. And he knew he couldn’t ignore the call.

A/n: Whistles… next chapter is my favorite… I’ve already finished with it, but I still have to edit it. Gah, I think it’s my favorite of all… I hope you enjoy it… and this chapter as well.