Chapter: 29

A/n: Thanks to those of you who reviewed. It does mean a lot to me.

Chapter Twenty Nine: Can You Hear Me

The manor looked just like Harry remembered it. Clean, impressive, and rich. Everything about it reminded him of his mother. Narcissa loved the manor and he would often find her mulling about the manor, adjusting things to her liking.

“Impressive,” Keiran murmured. “You’re house?”

Regulus gave a snort. “Malfoy’s were always known for their overwhelming sense of style.” Harry tutted, guiding both of the vampires deeper into the dining room. “It’s true,” Regulus argued softly. “You have more money than you know what to do with it.”

“If I recall,” Harry drawled, frowning. “The Black family is just as well endowed.” Regulus didn’t respond, instead, he remained quiet. “I thought so,” Harry grinned. “Dobby!” He turned, on his heel, waiting for the house elf to appear. Heaven forbid if his house elf was now gone as well.

“Master Harrison!” Dobby bowed low, trembling. “What can Dobby get for Master Harrison?”

“Is my brother here?” Harry asked.

“Of course he is, you idiot,” a voice drawled superiorly. Harry looked up, grinning as he watched Draco make his way down the steps into the dinning room. His brother had an air of superiority around him; looking astonishingly like their father… it was almost deplorable. His twin’s hair had grown to the base of his throat in strict straight strands and his face had narrowed out; loosing every ounce of baby fat. And the silver eyes seemed to become more intense with age.

The burns were just as noticeable as they were the day he got them.

“I’ve been waiting for you to return for almost half a year.” Draco stepped off the last stair, gliding over to Harry with a small smirk on his face. The smirk turned into a sneer as he narrowed in on Dobby. “Go fetch our guests some food, Dobby.” The house elf bowed and quickly vanished with Draco’s snap. As his brother held up his hand, Harry noticed he was wearing his flashy Malfoy rings with pride.

Interesting… Harry had thought Draco would have hidden away at Hogwarts, among the students, and perhaps turned his nose at the Malfoy name because the rest of the population had. “How are you?” Harry asked softly, seriously. “You look as if you’re handling things well enough.”

“Of course,” Draco responded arrogantly and Harry could sense Keiran’s irritation. The vampire had always had hated arrogance… “Someone had to hold the Malfoy name up while his father lost himself in Azkaban and his brother went…” grey eyes flashed behind Harry at the two vampires. “Ah,” Draco gave a bow at the waist. “With the assassins, like Zabini had hinted at. It’s a pleasure.”

Harry was proud of his twin with the show of respect. Draco wasn’t stupid; he knew when to bend his neck and when to raise it.

Keiran and Regulus gave a sharp nod back, their eyes assessing Draco. His brother was also smart enough to know not to engage in conversation with them, knowing that he’d make a fool out of himself when they didn’t respond.

Dobby returned with a feast that looked polished and took up half the table. He disappeared quickly after when Draco shooed him out of the room. The blonde aristocrat slowly made his way closer to the table, picking up a shiny red apple. “Are you here for good then?” Draco asked, wiping the apple skin on his dark navy robes. “The dark is in desperate need of you, this whole world is in shambles because of the Ministry and Dumbledore’s old lackeys. Honestly,” Draco sneered. “It’s a disgrace how prejudiced it is now. I can hardly walk down Diagon Alley without someone insisting I bare my left forearm.”

“I’m here to stay,” Harry answered the original question, eyeing the food. When was the last time he ate a feast such as that? Oatmeal…that was it. “Why did you drop out of school?”

“I took up the Malfoy seat in the Ministry.” Draco grinned. “And, seeing as I already purposed to my fiance, I’m attempting to get Pansy Parkinson pregnant.” He bit into his apple, looking as dignified as ever.

Harry grimaced deeply. “That’s far too much information, Draco.”

The blonde shrugged. “With you shacking it up with the Dark Lord, the Malfoy name won’t be continued on your end.” Harry frowned, narrowing his eyes at Draco. As much as he liked seeing his brother again, he didn’t like the tongue. “Sorry,” Draco lost some of his arrogance as he was met with a green glare. “I just realized that I need to get going on a few things before I pass away.”

Harry remained quiet, leaning his hip on the table. “We’ll find a cure, Draco.” The blonde kept his mouth shut, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “I won’t lose you like I did mother.”

“I’d ask where you’ve heard about my condition. But it would be a stupid question.” Grey eyes danced across his mark. “It’s a damn good thing that you’re back, Harrison. We need you. This whole world is weak and brainwashed by the Minister. The dark wizards are frightened to even look up from their feet, pathetic.” Draco spat, sneering. “The Ministry itself is firing wizards who had a history of dabbling in the dark arts.”

“I have a task for you.” Harry pushed off from the table. “As much as I liked seeing you again, I came here to ask you to go back to Hogwarts.” His brother grimaced, eyes alighting. Harry held up his hand. “You don’t need to go back as a student. However you do it, I don’t mind. I just want you to recruit any wizard who is willing to side with the Dark Lord and I. When you gather them all, I want you to bring them to the Malfoy manor in downtown London. Can you do that for me?”

The blonde nodded. “I already have a good handful of students who would want to fight for their right to use dark magic.”

“Good,” Harry glanced at the two assassins against the wall and back at Draco. “I’ll be by the manor a few times; you can talk to me then.” Green eyes glanced at the food on the table. “Are you sure you don’t want anything, Master?” He motioned to the food. The two assassins shook their head, probably hungry for nothing but blood.

“Do you have any idea where the Dark Lord is?” Harry turned to Draco.

“You’re asking me?” His brother whispered in disbelief. “The last time I saw the Dark Lord, he was sneaking out the window to sit with you after mother’s death.” Harry gave a loud outtake of air. He was uptight. He needed to see that bastard. The bloody idiot…

“If you have any trouble with gathering the students, you may owl me.” He grabbed Draco around the shoulders and gave him a quick hug. “I’m glad to see you got your head on straight, Draco. You’ve grown up considerably…”

Draco gave him a grin, nodding in gratitude.

He refused to sigh in irritation as he turned to his two companions. It looked as if he would need a snarky bastard to take him to the Dark Lord. Directly.

--SSC--

The trees groaned as they swayed in the heavy wind. Harry stood stiffly, his cloak whipping around his body. His focus was on the dark figure making its way down the grounds of Hogwarts and toward the forest. The castle itself had a few windows lit and judging by the time, Harry gathered the students were just waking up. He had gone a whole day without sleeping but he used his magic as his crutch, something he knew was a stupid move on his part, because once he directed his magic away from his body, he’d pass away from exhaustion.

Harry stepped from the shadows after watching the figure look around blindly for a few minutes. “Hello, Professor.”

The potions professor whirled around, his wand lit and raised. “Harrison?” Snape inched the wand closer, looking closely at Harry. “Where have you been?”

“That is of little consequence right now, Professor.” Harry murmured, feeling the wind pick up. Today was going to be a cloudy day, gloom and eerie. “Remember what I asked you before I left Hogwarts that night? Have you thought about your answer?”

Snape’s face was closed, only his dark eyes from the wand light showed his inner thinkings. Harry raised an eyebrow. “And please, spare your dignity and don’t attempt to lie. I can see right through lies, Occlumency or no Occlumency.”

“I have thought about it,” the man admitted. “I’d like to join you.”

“Me?” Harry wondered out lout. “You mean the Dark Lord and I.”

“No,” Snape responded truthfully. “Just you.” Seeing Harry’s blank face, the man expanded. “I originally joined the Dark Lord because of the thrill it gave me to be in his presence, to be able to freely practice the dark magic. You remind me of him when he was younger…but without the insanity.”

“And what changed? Why did you begin to follow Dumbledore and spy on the Dark Lord?”

The potions master shifted just barely, all the while, drawing Harry’s attention to it. “I pleaded with him to spare Lily Evan’s life. He slaughtered her.” His tone was dry and bitter.

“Love,” Harry drawled, grinning. He watched as Snape tensed, ready to have Harry pour salt on the wound. The man probably thought him just like the Dark Lord, scoffing at the idea of forming any emotional attachments like that. And it surprised Harry that Severus Snape actually had loved another. Granted, Lily Evans had been married to James Potter, Severus’ school enemy.

He reached out toward the man’s face, watching with lowered lids as Snape tensed, but remained still. His fingers touched the man’s thin and dry lips. “Love is a very strong emotional bond, professor. Many people scoff at the idea of love, not believing such an emotion can be worth while. Others think they should stay away from love because it’ll only hurt them in the end. No one knows that love can be the most powerful gift to ever happen to them.” Green eyes glazed over as he caressed the man’s chin, under his lips.

“I understand where your vengeance had come from,” Harry lost his glazed expression and removed his hands from Snape’s face, turning back to his cold self. “And I’ll try my best to protect you from the Dark Lord’s anger at your insolence. Spying on the greatest wizard of our time was stupid; following the crazy old idiot was even stupider. But I have to respect your final decision and hope you will keep your loyalty solid this time.”

Snape gave a sharp nod. “I will.”

Harry studied the man. “The Dark Lord and I will be discussing many things with you. And I, personally, would like to know what the light has been up to these past few months. But right now, I want you to use that mark on your forearm and bring me to him.” Snape looked pale, but the Occlumens didn’t allow his fear to show through, Harry could just See it easily. “I will protect you, Severus. Just bring me to him.”

Keiran and Regulus stepped out of the shadows, approaching him on either side. Snape was taken aback by their appearance. “Who are they?”

“Too many question, Professor; I’ll tell you later, after you bring me to the Dark Lord.” Harry grabbed Keiran’s arm and Regulus grabbed Severus’ arm. Harry motioned for Snape to take his arm, his mood at a critical level of almost tasting his Match. “Don’t you trust me, Professor?” Harry whispered softly, smirking.

The man sighed, pulling up his sleeve and pressing his wand to the dark mark. Before he could apparate them, he took Harry’s arm and held him close. The ground fell out from under them as they were pulled across the country in less than seconds.

Harry gasped as he hit the ground roughly, his rib feeling like a loose tooth as it wiggled loosely. He buried his face in the ground, hiding his expression of pain. He didn’t get very long to dwell on his pain, because he could feel the presence of other wizards closing in. Keiran jerked him to his feet, bringing attention to the shadowy forms closing in on them. Silver masks glittered eerily in the crescent moon and polished wands looked dangerous as they pointed it at the four newcomers.

Harry grimaced. “Put your wands away, you fools.” With an air of importance, Harry strolled toward them. Some of them recognized him and dropped to their knees, while others, tensed, wondering what to do in the situation. Keiran and Regulus both stayed close to him, their bodies ready for dodging and attacking.

Gliding up to a group of Death Eaters, Harry unfolded his magic. “I said put your wands away, now.” They scrambled to do so, lowering their eyes in submission. Voldemort’s numbers had dwindled, Harry could see, but not as much as Sirius made it seem like. Perhaps Tom had recruited after the attack on Azkaban or before then. Just as he was about to grab the collar of the closest Death Eater, the smell of alluring lilacs entered the premises.

Whirling around, he zeroed in on the tall and powerful figure across the ground. The sun was just rising, and the moon was still high, allowing enough light for Harry to see Voldemort. But even if it had been stark darkness, he would be able to tell where his Match was anyway.

The Dark Lord stood on a slight hill, surrounded by his Death Eaters, and looking down at the commotion.

Harry resisted a smug smile, but settled for a smirk as he watched Voldemort all but float gracefully down. Keiran and Regulus both tensed, coiling their bodies even more. Harry assumed that they felt Voldemort’s magic. Unlike Harry, the Dark Lord chose to flaunt a good portion of his power at all times to keep his enemies cautious and followers coming.

As sappy as it sounded, Harry felt relieved to see the bastard again. It was pathetic, knowing how much Harry wanted to stay angry at the Dark Lord, but unable to do so when the man made him want him. Frayed black robes dressed the tall and thin frame, the hem tickling the grass beneath his feet. The man’s hood was down, revealing his pitch black hair tied to the nape of his neck loosely.

Crimson eyes were as just as bright as Harry remembered. Currently, they were studying Harry up and down with an all but obsessive air, picking at any flaws.

Harry’s magic thrummed the closer Voldemort came but he schooled his features. As the man came to a stop in front of him, he reached out a hand toward Harry. But Keiran placed his shoulder in front of Harry, eyeing the Dark Lord in distrust. Crimson eyes shot toward the interruption and Harry’s lips thinned as he watched Voldemort and Keiran take each other in, like two male alphas would. It wouldn’t surprise Harry if they started circling one another, hissing and growling.

Red eyes narrowed in on Keiran, seeing something in the Master vampire; perhaps Keiran’s attachment to Harry or something of another matter. Harry laid his hand on Keiran’s arm, drawing both of the men’s attention on him. With his stare, Harry mentally told his Master that everything was fine. They were with each other long enough to read each other’s expressions and this was no different.

Moving stiffly, Keiran took a step away from Harry, making him vulnerable to Voldemort. Giving one last withering look towards the cloaked assassin, Voldemort reached out again, this time with a more domineering reflex. Harry allowed the spidery fingers to reach out and grab his chin. With a quiet hiss, Voldemort turned his face to the side, studying the Seer mark. “It was just a dream, then.” He hissed in Parseltongue

“No,” Harry denied, looking off towards the Death Eaters with his face turned. “It wasn’t. You just woke me up to a few things I had been denying.”

Many of the spectators shivered at their snake conversation, the emotions of fear, lust, and envy were high in the air.

Voldemort turned his face back around, locking eyes with him. The fingers on his face slowly stroked his skin in seductive circles. “I’d like to talk to you privately,” Harry threw a look at the watchful Death Eaters. “With our guests…” Voldemort eyed Keiran in distaste and then over Harry’s head at Snape.

Harry immediately tensed as he felt the Dark Lord’s magic peak in anger. “No,” Harry grabbed the Dark Lord’s wrists in warning. “He is under my protection.”

“And your protection is under me,” the Dark Lord hissed at him, surprisingly not removing his wrists from Harry’s grasp. “He wore my brand on his arm while actively spying on me. He at least deserves some form of punishment.” Harry tugged on the wrists, brining the man’s attention back on him.

“We’ll argue about this later,” Harry eyed the few tents ahead. “We need to discuss more important matters right now.” Green and red dueled.

Voldemort’s fingers twisted in Harry’s grasp, easily turning the tables and clutching at Harry’s own thin wrists. He pulled at him, bringing his body closer. Harry refused to breathe as he was flush against the Dark Lord. His heart was pounding quickly and he almost felt ashamed that Keiran and Regulus could hear it so clearly. Voldemort loomed his face close to Harry’s blowing a few puffs of breath near his lips. “If I agree on meeting with your…friends, will you agree to join me, alone for the day?”

“Yes,” Harry replied without hesitation.

His small body was released, although the man kept a good hold on his wrist. “Follow me,” the Dark Lord hissed, pleased with himself, as he eyed the two assassins behind Harry. With a tug, Harry was pulled with the Dark Lord. He kept his strides matching the taller man’s refusing to look like a lost puppy. “Don’t touch the man, not without my permission.” Voldemort ordered his Death Eaters, motioning his free hand toward Snape. “You’ll stay there until I see fit to talk with you.”

The potions master lowered his head, probably sneering underneath the long hair. At least he would be protected until Harry could gather Snape in his possession again.

Voldemort led them to the main tent, stepping aside to let the two assassins in first. They hesitated, just barely, and entered. The Dark Lord’s hold on him tightened. Harry couldn’t hide his thrill with being with this bastard again. Curling Harry close to him once again, Voldemort buried his face in his neck, inhaling and gently rubbing his nose around the wound to Harry’s neck. “I have a gift for you. I had hoped to get your father out of Azkaban, as you have certainly heard by now, but I hope this gift will be a good alternative.”

Curiosity spiked Harry as he allowed the man to all but grope him. “A gift?” He murmured, smirking as he inhaled the hair in his face. “The Dark Lord giving a gift? I find that hard to believe.”

Voldemort pulled back, crimson eyes flashing in intensity. “You’ll just have to wait to see it until your presence satisfies me enough.” With that, the arrogant Dark Lord turned his heel, leaving Harry behind.

The boy grimaced at the overconfident man, taking a deep breath and entering the tent he knew would be magical. As he predicted, it was almost like a small house inside. Keiran was perched in the corner, surprisingly not in the shadows. Regulus was balanced on a chair’s arm, watching Harry enter.

“I suppose introductions are in line,” Harry motioned his hand toward Keiran. “This is my Master, Master, I’m sure you know by now that this is the Dark Lord Voldemort.” The two were across the room from one another, but Harry could feel the slight tension.

Keiran stepped forward and slowly unraveled his face scarf. “Master-,” Harry started, uncertain.

“It’s alright, Harrison.” The scarf disappeared, showing Keiran’s distinct and coldly handsome features. “I have a feeling the Dark Lord will keep my identity a secret.” Keiran kept his gaze on the impassive Dark Lord. “I am Keiran, the Hand of the Assassin Guild. It’s nice to meet you.” The vampire gave a short and quick bow at the waist.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest while green eyes narrowed lethally at the Dark Lord as he stay stiff and quiet. Crimson eyes danced across at him, taking in his displeased form. Harry reached out with his Seer, sending hot licks of anger toward the man.

Voldemort gave a sneer, averting his gaze back at the vampire. “It is all but a pleasure,” he purred. “To meet my mate’s instructor.” Harry held in a sigh at that. Really. Did the man have to be any more possessive? It was the first time Voldemort had ever called him ‘his mate’ and wasn’t it odd that it was to someone else and not him?

Keiran never batted an eyelash and he didn’t miss a beat. “He is a very adaptable student.” Keiran turned away from the crimson stare toward Harry. “You should be very proud of him. He has successfully become an assassin.”

To make the conversation more sugary, Harry smiled back at the man. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Master.” And as predicted, disgust came from Voldemort in waves. Perhaps there was a hint of jealousy, but Harry wouldn’t dwell on that emotion as much as he wanted to.

Harry gave a smirk at the Dark Lord, nodding his head toward Regulus. The man was all but chuckling in amusement at the exchange. “And this, My Lord, is another friend of mine.” Regulus gave a nod toward the Dark Lord, apparently wanting to keep his identity secret.

Voldemort didn’t spare Regulus a glance, his eyes still assessing a stoic Keiran. “You don’t need to take your scarf off, Regulus Black. It is clearly unnecessary.” Regulus choked. Harry smirked. The Dark Lord gave a mocking sigh. “You’re guessing how I knew it was you?” He didn’t give the Guild member a chance to respond. “Your aura is remarkably like your brothers and your cousins; both Narcissa and Bellatrix.”

Regulus slumped in the chair, flashing Harry an exasperated look. So much for the element of surprise.

Clearing his throat, Harry stepped deeper within the tent, throwing a motionless Keiran a glance. The vampire was stiff and his emotions were hard to read. Harry frowned, turning to look at the equally closed off Voldemort.

“As much as I enjoy this tense atmosphere,” Harry started, sitting down gently on a chair. His rib was throbbing and his body heat was slowly rising. His breath came out in a short wheeze, drawing the attention of the three men. His lips thinned as he schooled his features. “We came to you for a reason. As you can probably see, the assassins are here.” Green eyes looked at the floor, attempting to draw in more power to keep him upright. “When I arrived with the assassins five months ago, Master Keiran and Regulus both told me that the Head of the Assassin Guild was corresponding and allying himself with someone from the light.”

He looked up at the Dark Lord. “And you know that assassins remain neutral. They don’t drabble in wars, whether it be muggle or wizarding alike. But Akira, the Head, has pledged his services to our enemies in return for more power and recognition.” His hand slowly and nonchalantly settled on his waist, pushing at the protruding bone he could feel. His rib was all out of sorts… “Master Keiran found this out early in the process and he is obviously against having his assassins and his Guild members in the public eye.”

“This is why I decided to train Harrison myself.” Keiran took over for Harry, throwing a concerned look in his direction. “Regulus, when he was a Seer, Saw Harrison’s arrival. And knowing that the Head was working against the dark, I figured Harrison would be better protected under me. And thus, we started an alliance.” Keiran looked over at Voldemort. “In agreement, my people and I would follow him in this war; in return, we escape afterwards without so much as notice. I want Akira dead.”

“Interesting,” Voldemort mused. “And you haven’t the faintest clue who the Head is working for? Dumbledore is dead.”

“The Minister,” Harry wheezed. “It has to be Scrimgeour.”

“But wouldn’t that ruin his reputation?” Voldemort wondered, staring at Harry. “If the assassins want to be in the public eye after the war, wouldn’t the wizarding world rebel against the fact that the Minister used killing as means to win?”

“No,” Harry scoffed. “The light, despite their lovely name, would probably talk about the fact that he used killing as a bad method, but inside, they’ll be smug that they wiped out the dark wizards. They fear too much. They want us to disappear and they’ll turn the other cheek if they see their own people killing. After all, we’re killing them.” He took a deep breath, watching as Keiran made his way closer. “Either that, or Scrimgeour will hide the fact that the assassins really killed and instead tell the wizarding world that they helped in some other way. The Minister always shelters and blinds his people.”

Voldemort looked at Harry in a new light. Was that really respect?

“I’m fine, Keiran,” Harry tried to pull away as the vampire made his way over.

“I’m having none of that, Harrison.” Keiran kneeled down in front of him, taking his tassel in his fingers and pulling it off around his waist. The cloak dropped from his shoulders first, revealing his glowing pale skin. Voldemort all but tensed, narrowing his eyes at Keiran.

“I have a Healer for that,” the Dark Lord hissed dangerously, the temperature in the room cooling dramatically.

Keiran pulled Harry off the seat and cradled him against his chest. “I’ve seen your mate’s naked chest more than you have, My Lord.” Harry gave a laugh, his face red from embarrassment. It didn’t help matters when Regulus was snickering off to the side. “But I think your Healer would do wonders compared to my patching up.” Harry was laid down on the rug, trying to hit Keiran’s probing hands away from him.

“I’m fine,” Harry insisted, trying to keep his cloak closed and sit up. “Merlin-,” he watched as Voldemort left the tent with a displeased air about him. “This is incredibly awkward.” He took control of the situation, rolling away from Keiran and sitting against the couch in a collective manner. He flashed Regulus a look, successfully shutting the man up.

“It wouldn’t have been awkward if you would have just healed yourself at your cousin’s house like you should have.” Keiran scolded, kneeling besides Harry. “The poison is still in your system, I’m guessing you’re using your magic to keep yourself conscious.” Voldemort came strolling in, a shaking Death Eater after him.

Immediately, the Death Eater made his way over to Harry. He had a balding spot on top his head while the rest of his hair was cut short in a buzz cut. The fingers that groped his briefcase were thin and tapered. “My Lord,” he gave a nervous greeting to Harry, glancing a few seconds at Voldemort’s hovering form.

“Why don’t we go in the other room?” Harry asked, placing his hand on the old man’s arm. With his Seer, he calmed the racing heart of the Healer. Harry stood up, bracing himself on the couch for a moment before standing by himself.

Keiran and Regulus both stood with him. “We’ll be heading back to the house,” Regulus intoned, stepping closer to Harry. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair again, issuing a loud hiss from the boy. “We’ll be waiting for you there, cousin.”

Keiran gave him a sharp nod, assessing the Healer to see if the man passed his silent judging. “How will you get there when you can’t apparate? Would you like me to bring you?” Harry asked, watching them make their way out the tent.

His Master fit his scarf across his face again. “We have our own means of transportation,” Keiran’s eye sparkled mysteriously. “I want you to rest.” Here he looked particularly at Voldemort as he said this. The Dark Lord smirked back.

Harry sighed at the childish behavior. “I’ll try in get in touch with you tomorrow then…” The two assassins waved him off and all but vanished in the shadows.

It was just Voldemort and him now… and he supposed the Healer. “We have much to discuss,” Voldemort drawled, strolling over and sitting on the arm chair.

“We do,” Harry looked at the uncomfortable Healer and decided to speed things up. “I was poisoned; something I’m sure a Bezoar would cure.” He took off his cloak, dropping it to the ground. He stood straight, watching as the Healer quickly dug through his bag. “I have a sword wound on my forearm and a dagger brush against my throat and chest…” his eyes dropped downward, grimacing. “And a rib…problem…I think it may be broken or sprained.”

A kidney shaped stone was thrust at him and Harry took it, placing it in his mouth. He grimaced at the tough substance but chomped on it. “And just where did you get these injuries?” Voldemort inquired, watching him and the Healer closely.

“My last task,” Harry swallowed, refusing to shiver. “I was given the challenge of dueling Akira’s apprentice to the death.” Harry grinned. “He tried to off me with a poisoned dagger.” Voldemort didn’t look impressed.

“And are you glad you got away?” Voldemort wondered darkly. “Was becoming an assassin worth everything?”

Harry raised his chin. “It was,” he studied the lounging Dark Lord. “Not only have I learned a lot of things, both in fighting and mentally, but I gained ourselves much needed allies.” They lapsed into silence, not willing to indulge too much with the Healer here.

A wand probed his rib, causing Harry to give a loud gasp in pain. He opened his mouth, ready to vomit, but considering he hadn’t eaten for a while, nothing came out. “It’s fractured,” the Healer stuttered, feeling the displeased air from the Dark Lord.

“You fool,” Voldemort hissed. “He warned you beforehand. Do you not listen to your betters?”

“It’s alright, Tom,” Harry spoke in Parseltongue. “He’s just confirming…” The Dark Lord didn’t want to hear it as he continued to narrow his eyes at the Healer. Harry attempted to give the shaking doctor more calming waves.

“Skele-Gro,” the Healer poured a small amount into a glass goblet, handing it to Harry. The boy grimaced, knowing that he was in for a real treat. He swallowed it quickly, closing his eyes against the burn in his throat.

“You’ve thrown down brandy before, sweet,” Voldemort all but purred. “The burn shouldn’t be too bad.” Harry gave the man a look as the Healer continued on cleaning his wounds on his forearm, chest, and neck- patching them up with his wand. Harry stayed motionless as the man then wrapped gauze and wrap around his torso to apply pressure on his healing rib.

“Thank you,” Harry gave the man a small smile as the Healer packed up. The man gave a shaky bow and hurriedly left the tent.

The two wizards eyed each other. “You should sleep,” Voldemort stood up, crimson eyes dark.

“We have too much to talk about,” Harry argued back. “I’m more than fine to stay up.”

“You lie again,” the man sneered. “I can see your magic, underneath that sparkly mess, you’re exhausted. I will not have you be weak on my battlefield.”

Harry clenched his jaw. The man himself was just as tired as Harry was. He could see it. “Your battlefield?” Harry wondered, cocking his head to the side. “Not much of a battlefield, is it?” He was treading on dangerous grounds, but that’s what he did with Tom Riddle. “From what I’ve heard the light is crushing you and your army with their fist.”

The Dark Lord’s expression dropped and the magic around Harry crackled. “You dare criticize me? When you ran away from your problems? How can you pass judgment when you weren’t here, but hiding away?”

Rearing his head to the side, Harry stood his ground. “I wasn’t hiding, but I will admit that I didn’t do this for myself. I did it to show everyone I could conquer what they thought I couldn’t. And you know what? The taste of victory isn’t so strong now that I succeeded. Not when I realized you needed me so much here-,”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Voldemort sneered. “I have held myself and my army together for as long as you were away. Only when I underestimated the light as I attacked Azkaban was where my problem came in hand.”

“You always have a habit of underestimating people, Tom.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “And that will be your downfall someday.”

Voldemort remained silent, his magic still licking and reaching out to Harry in a malicious eagerness. The magic didn’t harm him, only warned him of his boundaries. “You’re right,” Voldemort took a calming breath, trying to calm his raging anger. “I do underestimate many people, you especially. If you really want to hear it, Harrison, I need you by my side.”

Green eyes widened a fraction. He wouldn’t drop his jaw like he wanted to, simply because he had to play this game as well as Voldemort did. And acting like a child would be an insult to Voldemort’s rather personal confession. “We need each other to succeed,” Harry started, dropping his arms from his chest and stepping closer to the man. “You are a good strategist, a far better leader than I could ever be… but I’m a better politician. I’m the ‘ideal’ leader that people want. You…” he paused, grasping for the word. “Well, you’re a cruel bastard.”

The Dark Lord smirked.

“And I doubt you will ever change that.” Harry continued. “You don’t let weakness or betrayal slide easily and you expect your followers to give it their all. There is nothing wrong with that. Your enemies are afraid of you… My purpose, on the other hand, would be to…”

“Lick my follower’s wounds?” Voldemort drawled in disgust.

Green eyes flashed. “I would seduce others to our side.”

The man tensed. “And just how would you seduce?”

“As much as I like the idea of fucking every wizard who joins our side,” Harry frowned at the man in disgust. “That isn’t what I mean and you are smart enough to know that. You’re far too possessive for your own good.” The man brushed off the comment.

Voldemort prowled closer to Harry, reaching out to grasp his elbows. “No,” Voldemort disagreed. “You are my secret weapon. A sweet face,” fingers reached up to brush aside his hair. “But a cruel and malicious streak behind that prettiness.” The man leaned down breathing in Harry’s ear. “You are awfully arousing when you are angry.”

Harry grinned, feeling his throat contrast with the proximity of the Dark Lord. His magic was purring, reaching out to Tom and caressing the man. Voldemort’s magic lovingly caressed his back, entwining theirs together. Their magic was happy to be together again. And when they were together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Harry’s eyelids dropped subconsciously. He was tired. No, he was exhausted. Not even the idea of having sex with his Match could wake him up. “Come sleep with me,” his hand wandered down the Dark Lord’s arm and entwined his fingers with the cold and long appendages. He pulled at him, leading him toward the bedroom he could see across the hall. “I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted. Let’s spend the day sleeping. Just this once.”

Voldemort face contorted. “Sleeping?” He asked in abhorrence. “The last thing I want to do in a bed with you is sleep.” Red eyes glanced down at Harry’s bandaged waist. With the hand Harry held, he yanked the smaller wizard forward against his chest. “But I suppose you need to rest.” His hand danced across the wrap, caressing the material.

“Will you rest with me?” Harry asked slyly, looking up at the man. He lazily reached up a hand and lowered the man’s neck. Placing his lips near Voldemort’s, he breathed. “Perhaps I can make up the lost time afterward?” He let Voldemort go and made his way to the bedroom.

He held in a smirk as the man followed.

A/n: Yes, a lemon next chapter. I’ll put in a page break warning when it starts. That way you can skip if you want…