Aww gosh, sorry for the extremely long wait but life made an appearance I couldn't ignore – in form of long essays and stressful tests. But now my summer has begun and I will try to increase the number of updates :D
So… please tell me what you think of the plot and if there's something you'd like me to add! You see inspiration's running low at the moment… OH and if you'd like me to write a second 'filler' like chapter three you only have to ask *wiggles eyebrows*
Warnings for this chapter: None really… It's already rated Mature.
Disclaimer: No, the Harry Potter universe isn't mine… yet.
Life with a Dark Lord
'We just exposed our relationship to my Death Eaters' Harry hummed in response and heard rather than saw as people shifted and relaxed as the tension between the two powerful wizards relaxed and the wheels of their gossiping minds started to turn.
'Let them think what they will'
'Very well then, let us sit down; there is something I must tell you'.
'What is it? Did something happen at Hogwarts?' Harry asked, feeling the beginnings of apprehension settle in his stomach. He and Tom had agreed from the beginning he would only focus on the youngsters' part in the war; thus a happening at Hogwarts would be of great importance. The feeling of dread he received through their bond however, spoke of graver things to be told.
'No, little one, nothing has changed at Hogwarts… Harry I-' The Dark Lord paused, not knowing how to start telling his lover how his life was being, once again, hindered by the incompetent British Ministry of Magic. He sighed. Nothing could ease such news, he knew.
'Tom?' Came a hesitant voice through their link, turning, Voldemort could see his lover looking at him with his uncertain verdant gaze. The Dark Lord closed his eyes in resignation. He would, of course, be ready to stop his lover should Harry decide to go rampant, but would he be ready for tears?
A Dark Lord was never ready for tears.
'Tom what did y-'
"Harry, my beloved, the Ministry has declared you dead and are trying to seize your vaults and titles" Voldemort didn't dare look up from where his eyes had fallen on the cold, stone floor. And so, without pause, he continued to explain what his informants had told him and what he had deduced from the knowledge. Through it all Harry sat still and stared blankly out into space, to the Death Eaters it looked as though he was listening raptly while contemplating whatever his Lord was telling him, in reality he was far, far away from whatever was happening around him; his lover's voice was like a forest stream, a noise belonging to the background; present but not quite there.
Tom let his gaze sweep across the chamber as he waited for his lover's response; his followers were still and quiet. Perhaps they didn't want to disturb whatever struggle their leaders seemed to have, perhaps they are simply too frightened to interfere.
Harry's point of view:
In the back of his mind he absently noted Tom's sibilant tones as his lover continued to muse about what his informants had told him and what they already knew of Gringotts's customs.
The air felt cold and dank to him as he sat dully on his silver throne. He longed suddenly for that day which felt so long ago; when they had basked in the warm summer's sun, he longed for that penetrating glow, suffusing even the darkest corners of his mind as even his eyelids glowed red when they closed.
He wanted out.
He felt like crawling under a rock and hide until time itself had gone by and all left would be the unforgiving sun as it burned the ground on which men once had walked.
He didn't want to see anymore. Let the darkness surround him and drown out all things as he hid.
Voldemort's point of view:
Harry had stayed silent since being told the news - too quiet. Now, Dark Lords do not get anxious nor do they fret. However, as the minuets ticked by the Dark Lord was grudgingly starting to admit that perhaps they were allowed to worry, at least about their lovers.
As it were, he was starting to think that perhaps it would have been easier on his lover to just "kill some bitches" – as they always said in those abhorrent and explosive muggle movies his little serpent had made them watch occasionally.
Suddenly he felt Harry reaching for his magic until a thick black cloak fell into his outstretched hands. He looked to his lover as Voldemort, whose speech he hadn't even known to have stopped, started once again. An almost incomprehensible nod later Tom was up and draping the black fabric across around his lover's shoulders. The Dark Lord then proceeded to lift the hood to shield the emerald eyed face from view.
Successfully hidden from the unrelenting stares of curious Death Eaters Voldemort watched his lover drift away from the harsh reality of the present.
An indiscernible shake of his head was the only sign of his worry as he turned from his young lover to face the inquisitive eyes of those awaiting his orders, he let his hands travel up his forearms and cross over his chest, hidden beneath the folds of his dark robes. He smiled wryly.
Draco's point of view:
This was the third meeting this week he had attended. He knew from his father the lithe youth from weeks ago hadn't been present again during the meetings he had not been there for. In the cover of night he would lay awake and think of him; pale cheeks and glowing green eyes, so much like the curse of Death, surrounded by locks of ebony black. Panting he would imagine lifting that mask and uncovering those pale features he so wished to caress.
The entrance in mid-meeting was so welcome he nearly sighed in content. But then he'd felt the pure wave of rage sweep across the room, once they'd all realized from whence it came his eyes had nearly bulged with shock as magic, roiling like muscles in a beast, seemed to create an aura around the object of his night-time fantasies. To say he was disappointed when the youth finally, after several minuets of open anger towards his leader jumped into said man's arms to engage in a passionate snog-fest would be an understatement.
All he could do was close his mouth in the hopes of not having been noticed and listen as those around him started whispering beneath hearing range of those now seating themselves on the raised platform.
Pansy would get a kick out of this, he thought sardonically and tried to quench his feelings of jealousy; it would not do to be jealous of one's leader. Especially when said leader is the most powerful dark wizard of the century. Or longer, who knows?
"The time is not for war or violence nor of hostility or arrogance, those are things we cannot afford at this stage of revolution. No… the time has finally arrived for us to step forward, backs straight and masks in place, time for tact and cunning, finely spoken words to sway the upstanding in society to our side, whispers in cottoned ears and tones of truth and call… The time has come for us to enter the field of -"
General point of view:
A loud bang reverberated through the hall as the great double doors slammed open once again, surprised, all in the room sprang to into action and pointed wands towards the interruption.
What they saw made them all pale in apprehension.
A dark haired man clad in ripped casual robes matted in blood stumbled a few steps before falling to his knees. What made them all tremble in anger though, was the small child clutched in his arms. Desperately, as to not crush it, he held it out in front of him as he started to topple forwards in exhaustion. Immediately one of the more level headed members of their ranks ran forwards to catch him and the child – which was wailing loud and despairingly, as only a baby can.
"Take the baby",
"Is it hurt?"
"Are there others wounded?"
The questions became more and more and as the death eaters lowered the man onto the floor and a transfigured cushion a female death eater lovingly fussed over the child, making it quiet it's wailing.
Voldemort stepped down from his podium with a quick glance in his lover's direction; Harry was watching the proceedings with pain in his seemingly glowing eyes. Good, he thought; it would not do for his lover to lose all contact with the world as he immersed himself in numbness.
His followers stepped to the side to let him through as he neared the man. As he came closer he could distinguish certain features, they indicated someone of the Rockwell family, but he was not of the inner circle.
"His name Lucius." He said softly – there was no need for harsh words to add to the panic. The tall blond patriarch had already removed his mask and was running scans over the man's body. He didn't look up but merely hissed under his breath as he seemed to find the source of the blood rapidly gathering in a small pool underneath the man's torso.
"Terrence Rockwell, the child is either Ulrika Nott or Emeline Diedrich. They are from one of the Fidelius sites." Answered one of the younger recruits, Theodore Nott he believed he was called. I see, Voldemort mused sadly as he watched the pale teen acquire a gray tone as he'd walked up to the child and widened his eyes in recognition; obviously the boy was a relative of the victims. As young Theodore took the child from the woman and into his arms the man on the floor seemed to twitch as the blood replenishing potion took effect.
Slowly, the Dark Lord lowered himself to his knees to better hear what the man seemed to mumble, almost as mantra as he stared desperately into his Lord's eyes.
"Hel- help…the Order is …Help them, please…" startled and numb with fury their Lord rose again and walked back to the podium,
"My faithful followers, it would seem our plans of peaceful manipulations are foregone by Dumbledore's Order, the time has come to protect our families - we leave now for 'the houses on the Hill' " with that the Fidelius secret was shared and impatient cracks of apparition were heard as dozens of Death Eaters left the chamber to fight. Voldemort stood in front of his quiet lover and waited as glowing jade eyes tilted upwards to look at him, a small and sad smile tipped one corner of rose-red lips up and the Dark Lord gave an almost non-existent sigh of relief before he swooped down and kissed his little serpent – then he was gone.