Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.

Warning – Unbetafied I'm afraid- so there will be a few mistakes and for that I'm sorry. Also swearing, teen angst and (in my opinion light) torture.

Also – this doesn't focus on the events of the Goblet of Fire, though they are mentioned, but they aren't the main point of this fic.

Deal With The Devil

It had continued with Snape's award ceremony, the man never more proud of himself – the bastard had even washed his hair. A first class Order of Merlin was not an everyday occurrence after all, even the press in its hoards had came, and when Snape held the award up the world turned white amidst the flashes of wizarding cameras.

Harry – unfortunately had been forced to come, the Minister spotting him lurking in the corridor and grabbed him with a tight grip on his upper arm, tugging him down to the presentation in front of the lake.

"We thought, Harry..." The minister said cheerfully as he pulled him across the vast grounds of Hogwarts "... that we would give the award-" He grunted slightly as he tripped on a piece of tree root, that unseen to the minister's eyes had sprung from the ground and attempted to ensnare his foot. He pulled on the lapels of his suit and attempted a smile before continuing jovially on. "... We thought we should give the award at the scene of the crime!" He waited almost comically with an open mouth and wide eyes for Harry to respond. He closed his mouth after a moment and looked down uneasily before he gave a rather forced laugh at Harry's continuing lacking enthusiasm. "Come now, Harry..." He tried to coax Harry out of his angry stupor. "This man saved your life..." He began with a hint of pleading, his mouth twisting uncomfortably at the stoic boy's blank eyes. Sighing, and resigning himself to the fact Harry Potter was ungrateful - confunded or not he gently pushed the boy between his shoulder blades and steered him towards the large gathering.

"Ahh, Miss Granger! Mr Weasley!" He cried when he saw them and deposited Harry with them with a jolly smile as he squeezed Harry's shoulder. "I must be off now – I have a prestigious award to deliver." He said, with a swelling of his chest in pride and he gave them a cheery wink. He quickly left, the crowd parting for him as he headed towards the raised platform.

Harry had hung around the back of the crowd, Ron and Hermione flanking him as he leant against a tree gazing at the spot Sirius had died, and he imagined he could see an imprint of the body on the dusty forest floor.

Ron shifted uneasily as he looked around the dark expanse. "I don't like this you know-" He muttered as he glanced over his shoulder trying to see all the angry eyes that hid in the darkness. "- I know they have put up wards for today, but – y'know?" He looked at his two companions as he squirmed, wriggling his shoulders uncomfortably. Hermione nodded her frizzy hair bouncing whilst Harry merely smiled softly.

"Don't worry about it, Ron." Hermione started. "They can't hurt us today; it's an actual miracle that we had survived the amount of times we have come in here." She looped each of her arms around the boys and started to pull them away from the riotous crowd firing questions at Snape. They walked along the marked path back towards the castle in an awkward silence despite Hermione's attempts to start and continue a conversation with Harry's tangible sadness. Ron hadn't a clue what to say or do, originally only managing a tiny "Oh" when he was told, followed by an awkward and unsure "I'm so sorry, Harry." Emotionally crippled in regards to bereavement Ron had stuttered his way through attempts to convey his sympathy to Harry tiredly waving his hand. "Don't worry, Ron. Its fin- No, no it isn't fine, but I will make my through this."

Ron had patted his back with a grimace twisting his features as he lowered himself gingerly to sit on the edge of the bed next to Harry. They both slumped forward bracing their forearms on their knees.

"How's your leg?" Harry heard himself asking as he leant towards his trunk and opened it carelessly. He rummaged through it, seemingly looking for something but really just looking for a distraction.

"Yeah – loads better thanks. Well obviously it still twinges sometimes...but yeah...good." Harry looked over his shoulder and smiled fleetingly, but with genuine happiness in it.

"Good" He said, and turned back to his rummaging, shoving his crumpled robe to the side.

There were no more tears Harry could cry and all that was left was that scratchy dry feeling that made his eyelids feel heavy and worn out. Tears were a weakness in the long haul and weakness at the Dursleys was like blood in shark infested waters.

~ Deal With The Devil~

The Durselys had received a visit from Dumbledore, a terrifying visit that had resulted in a teenager's soiled pants, a lot of cleaning for Petunia after spilling her tea and an attack of angina for Vernon. Things would change in the household; unfortunately they wouldn't change much as the Durselys were not the smartest people in the world. They were blinded by their hate for Harry and that would be that, it would only be their fear that would hold them back to give the boy some space – for some time.

It was at the station they actually realised that something had really big had happened to the boy in his freakish school. It could have been a different boy from the one they had grudgingly driven up to lift to London. He looked so cold, those eyes were turbulent but outwardly he was stoic and frosty. He regarded them emotionlessly and led them out of the station dragging his trunk behind him and the empty bird cage. Vernon didn't say anything, the warning from the odd dangerous man having been engraved into his every conscious thought. The drive back to Surry was painfully silent, but the emerald eyed teen seemed to be oblivious to the trepid silence between the three muggles in the vehicle with him. He sat in brooding silence watching the passing scenery with an absent minded air.

They left him to take his trunk upstairs, not even bothering to attempt to take his case from him. The three Dursely's exchanged nervous glances the silence remaining constant, they suddenly jumped as the boy's door slammed shut. Petunia went to the bottom of the stairs and peered up into the dark landing, seeing nothing she hurried back ushering her boys into the living room and put on the TV.

"So, Dudders, would you like a snack? And you, Vernon?" She fluttered around, brushing her dress and plumping a couple of cushions. The two nodded distractedly, moving their heads to the side to watch the telly without Petunia in the way, and so she went into the kitchen, glancing up at the ceiling nervously...just wondering what that creature was doing.

Harry was sitting on floor, leaning against the cold radiator and brooding. He knew he had changed as though a dark veil had fallen over him, coating everything in a black, sickly coating.

Even the thick skulls of his beloved muggle family seemed to see a change in him, and not one they could mock, ridicule or even exploit in him. They watched him warily like a dangerous animal, a very dangerous thing to tread carefully around. Harry couldn't say he minded their caution and avoidance. He received scant meals and flinches from them but that was okay with him, it gave him more time to stew over the recent events that had happened and grow bitterer towards the man who had caused it. He hated Snape - that could be said without thinking, but Dumbledore...what did he feel towards him?

There was certainly a feeling of resentment, a low simmering in his stomach and an acidic feel on his tongue and the back of his throat. Did he really blame Dumbledore? He hated him for allowing Snape to walk around the corridors, allowing him around children, allowing him to murder Sirius, allowing him to ...exist.

He stole Sirius's soul – Harry didn't know the religious practices of wizards but in all faiths of the muggle world the soul was the entry to any place of the afterlife or even rebirth. Sirius was in a dementor's stomach, he would be forever tired to that thing. Snape had done something more unforgivable than killing. Harry felt his stomach twist painfully when he considered that Sirius wouldn't even more on to the other side.

He wanted Snape to pay...

Perhaps he could enlist the Weasley Twins and Peeves into his scheme, by merely encouraging them to indulge in their pranks. What harm could it do to let them take the blame for their own pranks, when a similar slightly more malicious and dangerous one accidently caught Snape. It was worth a try if nothing... It had to be – didn't it?

Harry had dreams – dark dreams, some were of him killing Snape, and he would wake up with a darkly satisfied smiled curling his lips devilishly. Others were painful, whispered malicious conversations with hisses and green lights and death. Harry still woke feeling pleased, his scar throbbing but Harry decided and knew that this meant opportunity...

Voldemort was coming back... and Harry hoped he would be happy to hear the news that Snape was Dumbledore's little pet and spy.

These thoughts and plans continually spun on a reel all summer, he barely recognised the fact that he was now given full meals and his door remained unlocked though no one bothered him. When it came to the end of the summer holidays he looked at the trunk that he had at some point emptied and rearranged to resemble something similar to a neatly packed suitcase. He had at some point done his homework and owl ordered all his new books and robes. Everything was done unconsciously whilst Harry's thoughts churned and became stagnant; he noticed that everything was a little battered. His books corners were blunt where they had been stubbed against his desk, floor and the wall when Harry had been particularly vicious. Letters lay unopened and scattered across the desk, somewhere in the overflowing bin but mostly they lay across the floor. He scooped them up and tossed them into his trunk, slamming it shut with unnecessary force as he tidied up and went to bed. Vernon was dropping him off at the station the next day particularly early as he had a business meeting. He hoped the man didn't attempt to talk or threaten on the way, he was in no mood to put up with the other man.

~ Deal With The Devil~

He was instantly scolded by Hermione when she found him on the train for not replying to their letters and Ron looked relieved that he was okay, but just nodded to him contentedly although he did look upset. Harry replied rather testily that he hadn't even opened their letters because he was busy – and gave them a meaningful look, Hermione instantly flushed guiltily and looked down at her clasped hands. Ron shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, looking out the window as the train started to move and the station was left behind. Hermione fiddled for a few moments with her hands before attempting a different branch of conversation. "S-so Harry, did you do your homework?" She looked up hopefully.

Ron groaned loudly. "Annnd it begins!" He sighed, causing Harry to laugh slightly and Hermione's disapproving manner to dissolve as she too giggled – it felt awkward and the laughter died rather quickly. The conversation carried on reasonably well but slowly, the painful topic of Harry's obvious depression being avoided like the plague and not unnoticed by the three of them Harry's input dwindled and he once again fell into a dark brooding silence.

By the time they reached the great hall Harry had stopped speaking – not even acknowledging Malfoy's snarky comment. He didn't even see the comical shock on the boy's face from being ignored. Nothing effected him, even the mention of the infamous Triwizard Tournament, Harry only had eyes for Severus Snape and hellfire swam in those emerald eyes...it was entrancing to watch those eyes darken, but it was scary, Hermione and Ron exchanged glances worriedly.

Hermione and Ron were concerned but they didn't know how to breach the invisible bubble Harry had formed around himself.

And the longer they waited the thicker the wall became and the distance between them all became larger. Before they knew it Harry only read, talked when he needed something and wouldn't attend potions classes.

Then already the other schools were due...

The Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students arrived without too much fuss, at least to Harry who barely looked up from his book when they entered the hall. He had watched the Triwizard Cup with a fraction of interest and got the terrible feeling that something bad would happen with the bloody thing. He watched the teachers' reactions to and caught Snape staring at him in an 'I bet you will try and enter for the attention – just like your father!' way. Harry felt that anger again, it reared up like heartburn effectively scalding his throat and stomach, making his whole chest feels unnaturally warm. Though he was sure that his anger was obvious he just raised his eyebrows in a mocking way.

Harry had not yet attended a single potions lesson, his ire spiking alarmingly when he even considered going near that murderer. It's not that he didn't want to, Merlin, if he could he would go in there and only come out when he is covered in the fucker's blood, but he could hardly do that so he looked down at his book and blocked everything out as best as he could.

~ Deal With The Devil~

He could, yet couldn't believe that he had been selected for a tournament he hadn't even entered. He was pissed and to top it off Ron didn't believe him. Glory hound. He could see them all thinking it as he walked down the corridors, their fugitive glances and not so quiet whisperings dancing around him in a constant slurry of shite. He didn't know who put him in this mess but Merlin he would dig himself out of it and that person would go the same way as Snape.

However he decided to himself, he would win this. He could see how they thought he wanted attention all the time – and they thought he would fail at this – so he would win, so even in the end if they still thought he wanted attention at least he wasn't going to look like he overshot it and made a tit out of himself. He scowled at a gaping first year causing her to make a squeak like sound and scamper off. He continued onto transfiguration, wondering if anyone was really on his side.

~ Deal With The Devil~

He could have hugged Hagrid if he was not, not supposed to be there. It was brilliant the heads up he had given him. Though this of course meant that snob from France would tell her champion too... but since when did wizards play fair?

He looked at the magnificent – as there truly was no denying it – beast and wondered... Snakes and dragons had a common ancestor... that perhaps it could work. He shuffled forward to the Horntail, though remained at a safe distance.

"Hello." He whispered to it cautiously, and its sharp eye caught his in sudden alertness. "Do you understand me?" He asked, breath stuck in his throat with anticipation.

The dragon blinked at him, as though it recognised it as an attempt to communicate, but didn't understand the language, it looked at him in an almost amused way – like a local does when someone comes along and speaks the language whilst simultaneously butchering it.

Harry sighed downheartedly and moved way, Moody had suggested flying and Harry did excel at it – least he had a plan B he supposed...

He would have to thank Hagrid later he acknowledged as he slipped away into the dark forest to head back to the castle.

~ Deal With The Devil~

Harry was eventually cajoled into attending potions and from the moment he entered the dark and cold classroom he knew that everything would go downhill from that moment.

Snape almost started when he saw Harry in the room, as he sprawled over his desk in a lazy manner- clearly having no intention to do any work.

Hermione saw his focus on the boy and urgently shook his arm, hissing at him furiously to sit up now!

Harry drew himself up slowly, like someone was pulling a rope around his chest backwards.

He watched the boy carefully, as he put up the instructions on the board with a demand of "Do not blow anything up, Longbottom." Harry bristled in anger for poor Neville who definitely did not just whimper, and started to gather the ingredients for the potion that he would attempt to brew.

He followed the instructions loosely, improvising with the ingredients with the hope of blowing something up – as long as Snape was holding it. Hermione hissed at him in righteous despair. "Harry! Look what you've done!" She looked back at her cauldron worriedly and then back at his in more distress, making a little whine noise at the back of her throat. Harry held up a handful of diced flobberworm and casually tossed it into the pot. Hermione had to swallow a yell, causing a loud gulping sound as she watched him mess up his potion. Harry stirred his potion viciously, the contents slopping out of the cauldron rim. Snape chose that moment to swoop in like a giant, ugly, big nosed bat. He looked at the cauldron and the roaring flame that swallowed the bottom half of the pewter pot and instantly snarled and vanished the potion.

"Potter – stay after class, you useless boy!" He spat, flouncing away in all his miserable bastard glory.

Harry grimaced, but a tiny part of him rejoiced – a tiny part that wanted to act now and just give the room a lick of paint – figuratively speaking of course.

When everyone had left – Hermione and Ron (who had now realised after Harry had been nearly cooked by a dragon that there was no way anyone would want to be in the tournament, and had apologised) shooting Harry worried glances as they crossed through the doorway, which Harry ignored completely instead focusing his glare on Snape – who was glaring at him with the same vigour.

"How dare you! Just like your bloody father!" The man began as soon as the door closed behind the last student. "You swan in here like you own the place! Y-you DARE! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" He yelled, slamming his hands down on his desk and his hands curling around the edges with his nails scraping the wood.

Harry stood up casually, swinging his bag onto his shoulder as he approached the man.

"SIT DOWN, POTTER!" Snape snarled, drawing his wand as he pointed it at the boy threateningly.

Remember, Harry, Some part of his mind whispered, He is too strong for you alone...provoke him, but be wary...

"Why is it that you just..." Harry's face twisted as he tried to sum up his feelings, he waved his hands a little before saying "...destroy everything you touch?" It was said in an ironic bark, bitter and warped under duress and shot out at force that only suppressed emotions could provoke in a person.

Severus's face darkened and shadowed angrily. "How dare you?" He hissed with a sibilant quality as he leaned further over the desk, his eyes flashing in fury. A madness seemed to take hold of Harry as he saw that anger like he was being challenged and he prowled forward in a slight predatory hunch.

"Oh, pro-fess-or," He cooed in parseltongue, secretly revelling in the fear that slackened Snape's features. "Don't talk like that unless you truly can speak to the snakes." He suddenly sprung forward making Snape jump back as Harry breached his personal space. "I find that very insulting." He purred.

"Potter! Stop that now!" Snape managed to pull his act together, and pointed his wand at Harry again.

"Why sir? Does it remind you of whom you belong to?" Harry asked, his breathing laboured and his cheeks flushed with excitement. He followed Snape around the desk, his legs bent in a stalker position as his bright green eyes tracked Severus's his wand. A light tremble of a laugh broke out from between his bared teeth. "What are you going to do Snape?" He goaded as he suddenly moved quickly forwards actually causing Snape to stagger backwards. "You're a death eater, no if ands or buts. What are you going to do? Attack me? Go on, I dare you! Dumbledore won't be able to protect you after that though..." He tilted his head in a curious manner, watching Snape unblinkingly. "Maybe you will finally move into that cell in Azkaban that has your name on it? Hmm?" Harry asked, again in a mocking tone. He let his fingers trail just above the surface of a desk, watching them stroke the air before casually knocking over a bottled potion.

Snape stared speechless for a mere second before bursting out. "POTTER! GET OUT! OUT!" The door swung open loudly, ricocheting of the wall in its force as Snape pointed with his wand to the exit, his dark eyes wide with mostly anger and fear. "GET OUT NOW YOU WRETCHED BOY! OUT OUT!"

Harry merely raised his eyebrows and gave a mocking salute, as he sauntered out of the dark dank potions room.

He waited until he got a fair bit away from Slytherin territory before leaning against the wall, and tried to calm his wild heart rate, there was a burning heat in his cheeks and a tingling feeling throughout his body.

Merlin, he felt alive! It was the first time in months that Harry has felt anything but hollow, and it felt ...amazing.

~ Deal With The Devil~

He hoped Cedric was right about this, he thought as he took the cool egg into his hands warily and sunk under the bubbles with it. He scrunched up his eyes in apprehension and pulled it open.

His eyes opened wide and a stream of bubbles left his lips as he listened to the melodic voice that emerged from it instead of the horrid screech. He quickly remembered the stain glass window in the bathroom... He shot out of the water, the wetness making his hair cover his whole face; he turned to where the light was streaming in and saw the mermaid plaiting her hair with a serene look on her painted face. "Hello?" He tried cautiously to the figure. She stopped and turned to him, her fingers curling into her hair as she bristled shyly, looking down before looking up at him again. She opened her mouth and let out a horrific shriek in response. Harry felt like wincing but only let his eyes crease a bit, and he grinned at her. So the mermaids were involved, he dunked back under the surface and waited for the words to repeat.

He held the egg and listened to the mersong as it played. What did he value most? What would he miss the most? Possibly Hermione... Ron? No... he didn't trust nor particularly like the boy anymore... He supposed they would choose Ron in the end, so now a way to breathe underwater? How fun...

He pushed himself up through the water, taking in a deep gasp of air. He closed the egg before bringing it to the surface and placing it gently on the side. Relaxing against the cool side of the deep bath, he began to think. He rubbed his chest slightly, the tautness in his chest flexing its fist around his heart. He began to realise how much of his life was taken up by this all consuming anger – he frowned worriedly, but after looking at the egg decided to put the worry on the backburner. After all vengeance could wait a little longer and so could Harry.

~ Deal With The Devil~

"Harry, my boy?" Albus called through the crowd to the dark haired boy. "May I have a chat with you?" He enquired when the boy turned around with a wary, guarded look.

"Yes." He finally said, voice soft and dangerous. There was a curious look in his features as he put his hands in his pocket.

"Ahh" Albus smiled, "You see, it's about your behaviour in Professor Snape's class the other da-"

"Oh- that! I did wonder when he would run to you so he could have a good whinge and suck his thumb." Harry said coldly, snapping at the aged man.

"Harry!" Dumbledore admonished. "He was within his rights! You were unbelievably rude to him!"

Harry just glared stoically at the old man, his eyes fixed on the bright blue of Albus's eyes before drifting away as he began to turn to stalk off into the vast crowd.

"Harry – you should apologise to Professor Snape. He will not even let you in his classroom if you do not do so." The boy's shoulder's tensed, and he pivoted around on his heels to face the headmaster once again.

"Sir," Harry stretched the word out, a tinge of malicious amusement sneaking into his tone. "I won't apologise and if I am honest sir, I don't want to go back to his class." He pulled his hands out of his pockets. "Do you know how I feel every time I see that fucking murderer?" He asked, a sneer starting to pull down on his lips.

"Harry..." Albus pleaded, he could feel himself loosing the boy. The darkness was slowly wrapping its arms around Harry, pulling him deeper and further away from the light.

"Sir, I think this chat is over." Harry said and turned away, walking between the groups of people silently and instantly blending in with the sea of black robes. Albus sighed mournfully as he thought of the boy and he wondered what would happen if he couldn't escape the dark place he had sunk into.

~ Deal With The Devil~

"C'mon mate!" Ron beseeched, as he watched exasperatedly as Harry continued to read the large book in front of him.

"Ron!" Hermione whispered sharply. "Give him time! If he wants to study leave him be, if that's his way of dealing with ...uh you-know-who then let him!"

Harry rolled his eyes, Hermione displaying her beautiful social skills by awkwardly trying to avoid Sirius's name right in front of him.

"Get over him? – it's been months!" Ron said, though not critically, it was still said in the brusque tone Ron often used.

Hermione scowled furiously slapping him with the back on her hand on his arm. He gave an indigent yelp. "What was that for?" He hissed as he massaged the pins and needles feeling out of his arm. "I know it was bad but still..." He trailed off, uncertain of the look that had fell on Hermione's face. "...Mi?" He asked cautiously.

"You weren't there." Hermione breathed, her voice going as distant as her face. "You didn't see it happen, Ron." She looked at him with inflamed eyes. "Merlin! Ron it was..." She swallowed heavily. "...just horrible!"

Harry gave pointed cough, and smiled bitterly at their startled expressions. "You're supposed to be helping me figure out how to remain underwater for an hour..." He gestured to the scattered books and blurred notes on the table. Hermione flushed and picked back up her book and gave Ron a fierce glare suggesting he should do the same.

"Ron...if you don't want to help my ploy for attention then please -" He swung his arm out towards the front of the library. "Please, do not let me stop you from leaving." He licked the tip of his finger and turned the page leisurely.

"This again?" Ron asked, suddenly leaning forward his voice unusually quiet but with a force behind it that Harry didn't think he had ever heard before.

"Yes, this again." Harry said, his lips pursed angrily as he pulled himself away from a interesting diagram highlighting the bodies weakest parts. "Ron, I don't think you know how much that pissed me off." He continued, snatching a bit of parchment of the pile and dipping his quill into the thick black ink. "And if I'm honest-" He started to scrawl down the vital notes, ignoring the ink flicking of the nib and distorting his handwriting as he hurried to complete them. When he finished with his note taking he looked up "- If I'm honest Ron, I don't think you ever will..."

Ron paled and his eyes widened and Harry knew he had hit his mark, before he hastily pushed out his chair, staggering. The wooden legs made a startling noise as the legs scraped against the floor, but Ron seemed oblivious as he grabbed his bag, holding it like a animal by the scruff of its neck and held away from him. "I-I-I better leave..." He stuttered, and ran out, the sound of his footfalls echoing in the quiet library.

Harry could feel a sadness in him at that, as he looked at Ron, he instantly knew what he said was right. Poor Ron, he would never understand Harry, if he was honest Harry didn't particularly understand Harry at the moment – all he knew was this constant ache and fury that centred around Snape. He had started to wonder what would happen when he got Snape? Would he fall apart? This..anger and pain kept him together – but it was a scruffy knot, and the longer he waited the looser it became, the ropes slowly pulling apart as the weight of what the world had done to him just wore away at his sanity. He had the terrible premonition that when Snape was dead...or when he ran out of time he would just ... lose everything he was, cease to be Harry... but he was comfortable on this train to self destruction oddly enough.

That was the crux of the problem though, there would never be anything to sate him once Snape was dead. Voldemort had picked the best target in the world – muggles – there was such a large amount of them, they would never be defeated. Voldemort was as stable as he could actually be, by choosing a thing that would never run out Voldemort had ensured that he wouldn't just ...crumple... like Harry would when the one person he had put all his hate into died. He felt a bit stupid now, but he could transfer his hate to the Dursley's afterwards, and then onto another...It could work? Grudgingly he felt admiration for his parents' murderer and his cunning, he scowled at the thought. He looked up from his book as he felt someone scrutinising him.

Hermione looked at him reproachfully, her finger between the pages of her book "That was unnecessary." She protested weakly as she slipped her hand away from the book, placing it gently on the table. "I'm going to see if he is okay..." She whispered, avoiding Harry's gaze, and she too left quickly though she left her bag and robe behind.

Harry just picked up his book, ignoring the painful twang of a lost friendship.

~ Deal With The Devil~

He looked at the map, and gaped. He looked back the man in question. "Moody...my fucking arse its Barty Crouch!" He muttered as he looked up again at the staff table. "I bet it was from my bloody homework...yes, yes, yes! My homework!" He hissed angrily before his voice became softer again."Prime position to take it...death eater in Hogwarts...why can't that be unusual?" He murmured softly and angrily chewed at his lip as he stared at the map and the real Moody in his office. He drummed his fingers on the table top before he picked up a bread roll and ripped it in half smiling cheerily. "Just the kind of opportunity I need..." He whispered and popped a lump of the fresh bread into his mouth. Fortunately no one was around to hear his little conversation with himself as he was considered a social leper nowadays, but that meant valuable time for thinking, plotting and brooding. He knew that 'Moody' was on patrol tonight, so he would just have to meet him on his rounds – after all everyone appreciated a good chat to pass the time.

He had waited impatiently all evening and finally left the common room at nine, choosing the route that would collide with Moody's at some point. It had taken fifteen minutes before they arrived on the same corridor.

"Potter! It's past curfew! What are you doing out at this time?" Moody asked as he hobbled towards the boy.

"Oh, hello Professor." Harry said in a contrite tone as he approached the man with a slow content speed that suggested he was in no hurry. "I was actually looking for you! Such luck!" He said in almost painful cheer, despite the angered shadow that seemingly always clung to the boy.

"Oh?" Moody asked, as he stopped in front of him.

Harry watched 'Moody' carefully, focussing on that eye as it swivelled around in its fake socket and how the scarred face wrinkled as he watched Harry in confusion.

"Oh – just before we start- I want you to know that if a single hair on my head is harmed I have people who will have you back where you belong in the blink of an eye." Harry said casually, waiting for Moody's inevitable question.

"What do you mean Potter?" He asked after the moment, his face betraying nothing, yet his real eye was sharp – too sharp.

"I do not want to die, I really don't want to die." Harry continued, having discreetly pulled out his wand and hid it behind his back. "So you see...Barty, I need a way to avoid this appointment with death and your master..."

'Moody' has his wand out in the blink of an eye and was about to cast a curse, however Harry was unbelievably fast – having to deal with Dudley and then being a seeker, his reflexes were almost unmatched. 'Moody's' wand was ripped from his grip just because of a large amount of luck on Harry's side.

Harry caught it and nodded slightly with a sharp smile to the man, as he tucked into his pocket.

"As I said – I do not want to die – something that seems rather inevitable considering a death eater is impersonating an auror and teaching at Hogwarts-" Harry held up a finger, and said in a rather patronising tone "and I would love – just love - to think that this occurs when the Triwizard Tournament comes to Hogwarts is only coincidence." He frowned as he examined his fingernails. "Bu-ut... I do not think that's the case, is it?" He asked.

'Moody' scowled, chewing inside the innards of cheeks "How..." He asked eventually. "Did you work it out?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry – your acting was superfluous... I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't have let you stay in the castle if he even suspected you for a moment..." Harry commented as he watched Barty like a hawk. "Back to the issue Barty – I do not want to die. But as I think your Lord might be a little bitter – and to be fair he has every right to be – towards me, so instead I want to be left alone and stay away from this war. So, I will offer some invaluable information to your side in exchange for my peaceful and continual existence."

Moody scoffed loudly, "You expect me to believe that Potter?" He laughed slightly leaning heavily on his wooden leg.

"No – but those issues will have to be dealt with later – I still haven't caught your interest yet." Harry said softly, and that caught Moody's attention, something in the way the boy spoke and looked at him intently.

"You have yourselves a spy in your little 'organisation' who is loyal to Dumbledore. And Dumbeldore alone."

"Do you mean Snape by any chance Potter?" Moody leered, and laughed at the boy.

"Of course I mean Snape, you daft bastard! Now stop laughing because I have no problem handing you over to the next teacher that comes along – and we will see how far Snape's loyalty stretches when your master is the size of a baby with very limited power."

Moody stopped laughing instantly, and he regarded him shrewdly before smiling. "From what I heard you were very Gryffindor, but from what I have seen off you this year...you do seem to have been misplaced. Perhaps a Ravenclaw would have been more fitting seeing as you practically live in the library." He leant against the window pane, folding his arms casually. "I heard you even tamed the demon librarian, but that is hardly a trait of the typical Ravenclaw is it?"

"And I can also see that subtlety was not a contributing factors that got you a place in Slytherin. Although I must say... nice touch with the homework and my name thing... I would not have thought of that! Actually I doubt you would have either..." Harry said dryly, he shifted his resting position slightly, hiding that nervousness he didn't want to be noticed. "Let's get back on topic, shall we? I want to get a decent night's sleep if I'm honest." He tapped his watch with his finger. "It is getting late."

He mimicked Barty's relaxed demeanour and leant on the wall. "Seeing as you... know so much about me then you should know Snape and I do not get on."

Moody smirked, a breathy chuckle escaping the scarred and twisted lips. "Yes, he cannot stop complaining about you. Though he is ...absolutely delighted that you haven't attended any of his lessons lately. In fact he is hoping the rest of Gryffindors will follow you." He drawled his eyebrow rising in hope of retaliation from the supposedly explosive and volatile boy.

"Well...whatever- " Harry waved his hand in dismissal of what Moody had said. "I will do whatever your master needs to regain his body – but I want something in exchange guaranteed first."

Barty looked sceptical, but shifted his position on the cold stone ledge as he sighed wearily. "I really do not have time for you to attempt the play with the big boys, Potter. However, go on." He said. "I doubt this deal will be worth actually taking to the Dark Lord." He added spitefully as he massaged the socket where his false eye was held.

Harry held his hands up in a gesture of defeat. "Fine then, I will just pop up to Dumbledore's office and drop the news shall I?" He laughed dryly, and pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Even if he didn't believe me – how about I just don't go near the portkey?" He levelled a cold look at the man across from him. "Despite it all – a lot of this does actually require my compliance to a certain extent."

"Fine! Merlin Potter! What do you want?" The death eater snapped, his fingers twitching for his wand.

"I want Snape dead... well broken first, then dead."

'Moody' blinked once at him in complete shock, then twice before he managed "W-What?" A mad giggle stuttering his speech. He gave the boy an appraising look before saying "Why... why would the Dark Lord kill his spy?" He ventured curiously, though mirth still seeped in.

"He will betray him with the drop of a hat-" Seeing Barty's look he added "-Muggle saying. Anyway – that is hardly the point, spies are easy to find. He can get another, but I want Snape ... let's say dealt with. Reasons why are between you Lord and me, you're the messenger not a confederate."

Moody scowled at that, before he began to speak again. "Honestly Potter – you're playing with fire." The man warned coldly. "Not very well, I might add."

Harry pointed to the Gryffindor emblem on his robe. "Yeah – I think it's a Gryffindor thing... We generally jump in head first..."

Moody pushed himself up of his perch sneering "Yes, well perhaps its might be valuable to start thinking about what you're getting into."

"Gryffindor conditioning, I am around it all day, every day and that is unfortunately how it is. Oh and I know what I am getting into – and I'm trying to make the best of it. So, if it's all the same – pass on the message, hmm?" Harry smiled tightly and began to walk away.

"Potter!" The man snarled as he hobbled after him "My wand?" He demanded harshly, as he grabbed the boy and spun him harshly.

"Do. Not. TOUCH. ME!" The boy growled angrily, backhanding him. Moody's head snapped to the side and his mouth hung open in shock.

"Merlin Potter! You have fucking issues!" He massaged his cheek before asking again. "My wand?"

Harry trembled with anger before managing a deceivingly calm "You will find it on your desk."

Moody opened his mouth in objection but Harry beat him to it. "YOUR. DESK." He hissed angrily.

The tone he used struck a deep chord in Barty, a familiar sound to the way his Lord sounded, so he settled with just nodding his head silently.

"Potter...?" Moody asked hesitantly after a quiet moment where he refused to meet the short teen's eyes. "Really...how did you know it was me?"

Harry let a true grin spread across his face before saying happily. "Don't worry – your acting is just fabulous!"

"Potter -!" Moody said. "That doesn't answer the question!"

Harry waved over his shoulder cheerily as he disappeared into the dark shadowy corridors, winking at the little elf hidden in an alcove as he handed him the Death Eater's wand.

~ Deal With The Devil~

It was a few hours before the last task and a note written in a fine scrawl had just been delivered saying. He will hear you out. It was unsigned but it was obvious to anyone on the inside of this little farce of an operation. He screwed it up and threw it into a fire that was lighting the hallway, even if he just chucked it away, it really meant nothing to anyone else.

He heard light footfalls hurrying towards him, and he spun around to see Hermione darting towards him, bushy hair like a dirty blonde halo around her head.

"Harry!" She said, slightly breathlessly. "You weren't just going to go to the task without waiting for me were you?" She demanded, although humour was evident in her eyes.

"No..." He said, with only a slight hesitation, but Hermione caught on in an instant.

"Harry? You weren't were you?" She whispered placing her small hand on his arm.

Harry's eyes shifted away from hers in guilt.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" She shrieked angrily her lips pouting and her arms crossing across her chest. "You could die in this bloody thing! Why would you leave without saying bye?"

When Harry refused to answer her temper flared even more. "Harry! You – you've changed!" She snarled. "Always ...brooding and – and angry!" She snatched him by the front of his robes and slammed him into the walls with surprising strength. "It feels – no-no. We are! We're losing you!"

"Yes! Yes! You've lost me! Alright?" Harry yelled, anger bursting through that strong damn in his mind, startling Hermione back a step. "Are you happy now? Happy I've admitted that I'm not who I used to be? That I'm happy that I've changed?" He stepped forward making her step back a bit more. "Do you want me to say that we have grown apart so much that I don't see you as a friend anymore?" He suddenly choked on his own tongue when he said that, a tiny part acknowledged it as true, but it was still a shock to hear it so clear. Hermione drew in a sharp breath as though she had been stabbed.

Hermione looked at him with wide hurt eyes. "What do...you ... mean, Harry?"

The anger seeped out of Harry, like the nervous sweat along his back and neck. "Where I'm going to go, an- and what I will do, will make you ...hate me – I'm telling you this because you have been the closest and best friend I have and will ever have. S-so, I'm sorry that we can't be friends after this, but...know that...I really appreciate what you have done for me."

Hermione's eyes welled with tears, but there was acceptance in there too because she understood. Oh, she had noticed how Harry drowned in his own bitterness and she couldn't help him back out, really she had let him become this and she had to deal with these consequences. She saw his reaction to Sirius's death and she had seen the joy in Snape. She almost understood why he was doing this and in a way if it brought Harry back...if it gave him closure, then she could maybe justify it to herself. So she nodded, her jaws held tightly together and her chin scrunching as she tried to wail. "A-and you know, t-that you were my first and very best friend! I-I don't think I would have had any but f-for you. There is no way that you could ever not make me your friend- wha-whatever you do Harry. I will always stand by you!" The tears ran down her face, overflowing the delicate flesh around her eyes. Her lips trembled as though she couldn't catch her breath, but slowly her tightly fisted hands let go of his robes. She gently smoothed out the crinkles and patted him down.

"N-now," She furiously wiped her face with the back her hand, collecting the moisture quickly and leaving her skin to pool pink under her own harshness. "Y-you... Harry!" She sobbed and lunged at him, hugging him tightly, and he hugged her back with just as much force. She leant close to his ear and managed to whisper "Don't get caught." Before she kissed his cheek and ran off into the darkness of the unlit corridor.

Harry felt empty with the loss of Hermione, not matter her promises, but he knew it was right; he couldn't have her compromised due to him. Not Hermione, she couldn't become a murderer for him, he could give her that, and retain that bit of Harry forever. He wouldn't drag anyone else down with him in this bloody quest for vengeance. Harry wondered belatedly if Hermione was under the delusion that he wanted Snape dead only, her mind would probably not allow for anything else other than a quick death. He wouldn't want her to know the truth...wouldn't want her to know what he really wanted. He refused to acknowledge the small part of him that wanted to keep Snape for himself – a small part that didn't want anyone else to harm what he wanted to harm. It felt like damaged goods – you just don't want it anymore – and Harry had waited too long for this and it was many years overdue – before he was born it was fucking overdue. He sighed mournfully and decided to make his way to the pitch.

~ Deal With The Devil~

He leant against the stands whilst he waited for the task to get underway – as the current leader he would go in first, it was just the wait now. He noticed Dumbledore coming over to him, his almost timid smile dimming seeing the shadows under the boy's eyes and the weight that pulled his mouth into that constant angry scowl.

"I just wanted to say...Good luck, my boy..." He struggled with his words for a moment, his tongue feeling heavy and dry.

"Thank you, Sir." Harry said rather stoically, but something about it all set Dumbledore on edge and he instantly knew something was really wrong. Harry went to move past him, but Albus needed to know...

Dumbledore grabbed his arm with surprising strength, his aged fingers holding Harry firmly in place.

"You- you really have lost your way haven't you Harry?" He asked, unusually grave, those blue eyes dull as they looked at the boy.

"Yes." Harry said putting his hand over Albus's and unhooking it gently. "Thing is, Sir, no one tried to lead me back. No one tried to help. Now...it's too late – I'm lost, you lost me and didn't bring me back."

Dumbledore's hand lost its energy and he let his arm flop watching the boy walk away to the hedge as he examined it closely.

The boy reeked of dark – whether it was malicious thoughts making his raw magic dark or not the boy had slipped, and was now almost completely submerged in dark, angry, ambient magic.

He hoped the boy's eyes remained that beautiful green, and wouldn't turn a bright red – he supposed that it might be inevitable if the boy mastered the dark arts – which it was likely this would lead to. It was morbidly fascinating how the dark arts were almost sentient, when mastered... the magic was almost... proud, thus causing red eyes. He hoped Harry would stop after Severus was dead – the boy had become relentless and his eyes could turn very soon if he continued down his path.

Albus also knew that there was nothing he could do; everyone would think him mad if he proclaimed that the Boy-Who-Lived had gone dark and mad. He had no evidence apart from conversations in which theories could only be strung together loosely; he could not loose everyone else if Harry decided never to return...which was exactly the problem. Albus realised with a pain filled sigh...he didn't want to let go of Harry – he wanted to believe that the boy could come home and be happy again. He needed closure and he thought killing Severus was in the way of that. Albus realised that he had held onto hope for Severus too long, maybe Harry was seeing what the rest of the world saw – a mean spiteful, cowardly Death Eater...whilst Dumbledore saw a lost, angry and confused boy. Maybe it was time to let go and just...hope for the best. But then again...he had let Tom go to easily...

It was terrifying to think that Albus had lost his way also and that now he might have given the enemy a valuable figure in the war. And that he would lose a more than one person tonight.

~ Deal With The Devil~

Harry watched Voldemort through wide eyes as the man glided around his own cauldron, the man's power soaking the area like a partially stuffy and heavy blanket.

It was terrifying to realise how weak you really were... Harry knew he had power he could see it at times – he could even feel it sometimes when his wand struggled to channel it. Oh, Harry knew he was something, but this...this was fucking terrifying, this was power, not restrained by a grandfatherly act. And Harry felt sick with his own fear. Nerves plagued his system causing his entire body to become covered in goose bumps, the chill racing up his arms, down his spine, along his shoulder blades and making the skin on his neck and scalp tighten uncomfortably. Harry always wanted to do great things, to excel at studying but he knew in reality he couldn't actually do it. Then to be faced with this... it was horrifying and it shook the foundations of his being to look at it in this malformed shape.

The man looked at him with those red eyes, and his scar spiked in pain causing his eyes to burn, but the Dark Lord began to speak and Harry tried to focus on the voice.

"...Now, I would use the killing curse on you, boy. But I do believe that would have a poor effect on myself and after a year being nursed like a sickly infant I do not feel inclined to go back to that just yet." He laughed airily, and Harry watched full of pained tear filled eyes as Voldemort waltzed around the gravestones, his long fingers grazing the smooth marble of the rich to the coarse gravelling stones of the paupers.

"I must confess that my ego has always been a problem. Well, I say problem... perhaps had the potential to be so. So, yet again it seems I am right, wouldn't you agree Harry? After all it was what blinded me to your mother's protection." He smiled lazily; a horrid sight and Harry flinched.

He chuckled, the sibilant sound flowing from his closed mouth as easy as water flows through pipes.

"Honestly Harry...are you afraid of me?" He asked indulgently, he pulled slightly on the ends of his robe sleeves as he smiled to himself, his long fingers stroking the silk hems of his robes. He looked at Harry again, a small bemused smile on that lipless mouth as he waited patiently for an answer. Harry shook his head stubbornly, his jaw taunt with anger and fear. Sweat dribbled down the sides of his face as he tried to escape the ropes binding him to the gravestone.

"I have heard from a servant of mine that you have a deal for me...?" He asked as he severed the ropes and Harry slumped to the floor.

"Did he give you details?" Harry asked, his voice starchy.

"You want Snape dead."

"Yes, I do..."

"...And why would I Potter, agree to dispose of my faithful potions master of a servant?" Voldemort asked mockingly,..

"He's...Dumbledore's ...man." Harry said at length, his voice quite raspy.

Voldemort laughed and crouched down next to Harry, "I'm afraid Potter once again you are wrong. I don't see any harm in telling you this as you shan't be leaving here alive – Snape is my spy. Every little detail that goes on in their little meetings is told to me."

"Or what he wants you to hear – what Dumbledore wants you to hear. Either way he wins. He led you to your death, and you didn't spare her. You killed my mother...and he loved her...he hates you." He rasped through the pain. "Enough to betray you..."

Voldemort frowned, before saying "And if you are right? What do you want and what will I get?"

"Kill him – what do you want – anything, I will give you anything! Just break him!"

"How then will I get any information from the light then?"

Harry decided to grasp at straws and hope it wasn't too obvious. "I will do it if I must. I'll tape the meetings on a tape recorder – the muggle ones that can't be detected by magic – they would be permanent fixtures you could play them again and again word for word... You won't need Snape's memory."

"And the potions demand?"

"Most people can brew potions – and a master in the art isn't that hard to find!" Harry argued defiantly, his chin tilted upwards in an attempt to increase his confidence.

Voldemort looked at him considering him with a keen appraisal, those bright eyes dark with malicious thoughts.

Harry was pinned by that ruby gaze alone, his back pressed against the cool marble of Tom Riddle Sr.'s grave. Voldemort sprung forward suddenly and Harry's head jerked backwards sharply rapping harshly on the stone grave behind him. Cool hands, too cool for a human's, filled with that cold blood of that cold murderer, clutched at his face the yellowish nails carving into his soft skin cruelly.

"Hold still, Mr Potter – I want to know how honest you are being."

Pain. Pressure behind his eyes spiked sharply and memories flashed through his head, he shook with the onslaught of them. He couldn't grasp any of them but they continued to flow harshly. Then suddenly they stopped and the pressure was gone as quickly as it came and his vision came back into focus on Voldemort's face – that was close – too close.

Harry trembled in pain his face still clasped in Voldemort's hands; his breath can out in shaky whimpering gasps his lips mere millimetres away from the Dark Lord's. Every exhale he could feel softly brush against his heated fevered skin. Voldemort watched with those sharp and amused eyes. The crimson irises become thin against the rapidly expanding snake like pupils.

"My, my...my, little Potter – so angry..." He moved closer, and Harry tilted his head to avoid contact with the snake like man unintentionally baring his jugular to the man. A man with a snake for a horcrux certainly could relate to the vulnerable position his young enemy had placed himself in. He leant closer breathing steadily on to the visible pulse jumping in the boy's throat. He breathed slowly through a lipless pout to the juncture where the boy's ear began. "...So bitter..." He cooed into the shell of the ear hidden behind the thick messy hair.

He suddenly let go of his hold on the boy, standing back and letting Harry slide down, his feet scrapping across the sparse grass as he settled against the marble, his sweaty back sticking to the smooth material.

His head flopped as though there was no support and his chin rested heavily on his chest, his fingers trembled as they came up to clasp at his head. He let out a low, long and pained groan falling to his side as he tried to hold his splitting head together. He forgot that a man who would most likely kill him was next to his form and he forgot about dignity and tried to not black out.

"Ahh, yes. My apologies Mr Potter..." He said with a contrite tone that boarded on cheerful. "...I never saw the point of becoming...undetectable in the mind – when the effects of such a forceful entry are only temporary and pain does make it so hard to... hide things." He swooped over Harry's prone form and grabbed his hair pulling him up. "It is funny, almost, what your mind shows me. I wish I could say that you were a master in the mind arts, but according to Peter here you're only mediocre in everything you do."

Voldemort could feel the anger in the boy, the almost there power flowing through the pores of his skin. The boy's whole body bridled at the mention of Pettigrew, however he said in a controlled voice "That is not why we are here." He breathed heavily through his nose, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain.

"Yes- I suppose we were here for my resurrection." He chuckled, as he used his arm to hook Potter under his armpits and let go of his hair. "But I do suppose your little vengeance scheme had some merit in it. It's been so long since I tortured someone..." He frowned, as he pulled both himself and Harry up. "...But... my potions master?". He chuckled grimily "Though it does seem Dumbledore had Severus right under his thumb." He mused. "I think it is time to summon him, hmm?"

Harry didn't say anything but a glimmer of victorious hope flared in his eyes. "Excited for this Harry? A little less good and pure than your parents would have liked, you could very well be the new Wormtail." He said with a lazy smile.

Harry snarled and leapt forward slightly "How dare-" His hands curled into fists but he stopped himself.

"Hm, of course Harry, Gryffindor pride – no one wants to be compared to that." Voldemort spoke softly, gesturing impatiently for Wormtail to come closer. Wormtail crawled forward cradling his stump and weeping, snuffling into the ground as he held in the Dark Lord's wand. Voldemort caressed it lovingly, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, an expression close to bliss brushing his features. In a moment his eyes snapped open, his red eyes immediately focussing on the sniffling, pitiful creature in front of him.

"Wormtail, your arm." He spoke coldly, before he snapped irritably as though the thought had only just come to him. "I need the use of your mark, do not offer me that stump or I shall remove the rest of the limb as well."

His left forearm was presented, the dark blemish shining eerily in the moonlight, when the yew wand was pressed painfully onto it, if Wormtail's sob was anything to judge by. Voldemort let the man drop to the ground curling into a little ball.

There was a couple minutes of strained silence were broken with a sharp crack and Snape falling to his knees in a bow. Instantly he was hit with a stupefy and crumpled face first into the grass.

"Now you see your prize, Mr Potter." Voldemort gestured to the figure lying in the grass. "But I do wonder what your price is..."

Harry looked at him confidently before being the Gryffindor he was. "What's your price?"

Voldemort let out a hissing chuckle as he glided closer to the boy. "Silly, silly Harry..." He tilted his head in a predatory manner and said eventually. "I want your body at my feet...underneath me..."

"I don't care if you kill me... as long as you kill Snape too – and first!" Harry spoke with confidence, though he was lying, he didn't want to die and he had no intentions of doing so just yet.

Voldemort smirked, the edges of his mouth sharp as a razor, and he took a handful of Harry's hair and tugged the boy towards him until their bodies were flush against one another. "Unscrupulous liar." He whispered softly, yet it was spoken with an almost fond undertone. He pulled Harry's head back using his hair as leverage to tilt the boy's head back so that Harry's entire throat was exposed to him.

He ran his yew wand up and down Harry's jugular watching the boy's adam's apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed nervously. "So, Harry Potter, what will you offer me in exchange for this...favour you want?" He asked, poisonously sweet breath dancing along Harry's skin as the Dark Lord leaned over him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, as he leant away from the domineering figure of the Dark Lord.

"Ah ah! Harry..." Voldemort chided, tugging Harry back by his hair. Their bodies were melded together, a complementary pair. "Don't back away after asking me what I want. Such a tantalising thing to be offered..." He mused. "Such a pretty throat," He continued running his yew wand across it. "It would so much more beautiful black and blue, covered in blood...nails...teeth..."

Harry drew in a sharp breath as Voldemort's fingers suddenly applied light pressure on his neck, his nails scraping the warm sweaty flesh.

"Would you deny me my price, Mr Potter?" Voldemort asked, his eyes removing them from Harry's gullet. "Would you deny me a toy to play with?" He purred, leaning closer his obsessive eyes trailing over Harry's face.

Harry swallowed nervously – what choice did he really have? He couldn't run and leave – he would be killed before he could, and he wanted Snape shattered so badly. He couldn't infer what Voldemort meant by toy. He could mean anything – someone to torture, someone to use sexually... Harry didn't want to be any of things really, Voldemort was by no standards attractive but there was something, a connection that drew him to the man – deep seeded hate? He didn't know what made it but they felt...compatible, like this connection thrived on the fact that they were constantly angry. But...to be a toy?

What he wanted cost this price.

So he heard himself saying in a hoarse whisper "...Ye-...-es."

Voldemort grinned happily, his eyes sparkling menacingly. He let go of Harry and the boy stepped back, but Harry's wrist was ensnared with those long fingers and he was pulled back to the man. Voldemort spun them both to Snape's prone form.

Harry's arm was twisted behind him painfully and the Dark Lord made sure to pin himself to the younger boy in such a way so that the arm couldn't be moved. "Perhaps...Harry... you should take a turn? Do you know how to cast the killing curse?" He asked, his long fingered hand splayed over Harry's thudding heart.

"I don't want him dead." Harry whispered quietly, wriggling slightly in the Dark Lord's grasp. "I want him broken." He said, his eyes not leaving the prone form of his potions teacher.

Voldemort laughed, a full loud sound that was reasonably pleasant, causing vibrations to travel through Harry's body. The Dark Lord bent down and pressed his cheek to Harry's "Oh Mr Potter, so early in my new life and so many pleasing things have occurred."

The potions master suddenly moved, his eyes darting open as the Dark Lord wordlessly and wandlessly awoke him. Harry sneered at the man.

"What has made such a sour taste in your mouth?" Voldemort chuckled, as he saw the bitter twist of Harry's mouth.

"Do you want to start or shall I?" He asked the boy.

"My Lo-" Snape began but was cut off by the Dark Lord's vicious hiss.

"I think I shall start..." Voldemort said softly. "If you don't mind Harry?"

Harry knew that it was not a question, merely a polite statement. So Harry didn't even bother to say anything.

Suddenly a strip of flesh was ripped straight from Snape's arm, the dark mark violently pulled away from it, blood bursting away in little spurts like buttons popped of a blouse. "You do not deserve to bear my mark Severus – not after finding out your involvement with the events of the past, this night."

An insane, enthralled glint appeared in the Dark Lord's eyes as he continued to cut into Snape's left arm, seemingly determined to destroy the limb he had claimed as his own.

Bone splintered and burst through muscle and skin like the formation of crystals, whilst the pale flesh was covered in a fresh coating of clotting blood. The skin itself seemed to be rotting, turning black and giving of a terrible stench. Snape must have been screaming, but all Harry could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and watch in rapture as the damage moved slowly up the man's arm like black poisonous vines that slowly dug into the flesh injecting poison that made the skin shrink and become too tight, making it peel and burst with septic puss.

Voldemort did not seem inclined to share, his time in limbo depriving him of his favourite pastime – torture. In all honesty Harry was happy just to watch this masterful art in the making, as Snape was being slowly killed limb by limb. Harry was slightly propped up on the top of a gravestone giving him extra height to see the graphic warped detail of Voledmort's work.

He hadn't realised when or in fact he had done it but he had his two arms wrapped around the Dark Lord's shoulders his chin resting on his right collar bone, whispering what to do next in parseltongue into the man's ear. It seemed that the Dark Lord rather enjoyed the contact, finding a perverse pleasure as the Golden Boy pressed himself closer and watched enraptured as skin was peeled and blood bloomed out of wounds like flowers.

"He loved my mother – say what you did. Lie, I don't care – Make. Him. Cry. Please." He whispered his nose almost touching Voldmort's cheek, where spotting of blood trickled down the sharp cheekbone.

A red eye flickered over to him. "My, my, little Potter, how come your so eager for such a bloodbath? Where is the little golden brat that was so pure last time we met?"

"That was three years ago, things change. I want Snape dead – and I want him broken and bloody before he goes. Don't stop. Please- ask questions later, torture now."

A sick grin warped the Dark Lord's face, and with his free hand he cupped Harry's face smearing blood across the tanned cheeks. "How delightful Mr Potter, very well. We will talk later." He seemed to pause before asking cautiously... possessively. "Do you...want a turn?"

Harry found himself answering whole heartedly. "No, no, I wouldn't want to ruin your work with my poor attempt...watching is enough." His eyes never left the grass that was coated in red blood that started to look like oil in the fading light. Voldemort grinned, and not giving him a chance to change his mind continued with his vicious butchering.

Finger nails were twisted until they came out of the finger themselves, ripping the tip of the finger off as they continued spinning furiously.

Knees bent the wrong way until they snapped with a startlingly loud cracking sound.

The clothes over his stomach were ripped off and Harry could see the rippling wriggling flesh, whatever was under the surface was trying to get out. There was a gnarled black claw pushing upwards stretching and thinning the skin until it burst, causing a spray of blood and stomach acid to rain over the area. Chunks of flesh were being ripped off Snape's body in random patterns. On and on the torture and Harry was sure that Snape's body should have given up the fight to live ages ago.

Harry watched in rapture and shock...this was brutal...and very slight arousing...

Voldemort eventually seemed to remember the world around him and stopped casting spells, he unhooked Harry from him rather gently and walked around Snape's shuddering body who possibly had minutes left.

He came back to standing in front of Harry, and with his left hand held out to the open air as though asking for a dance he spoke coldly and commandingly "Wormtail, the knife."

Wormtail sniffled despairingly, holding his stump caringly as blood welled between his stubby dirty fingers. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, groaning and moaning as he did so, and he picked up the knife that had fallen to the ground after the last ritual words had been spoken. Stray strands of grass stuck to his wet hand as he fumbled around in the uncut greenery. He saw the blade suddenly; a glint in the moonlight, and his trembling hand darted for it. He shuffled slowly towards his Lord's towering from – his shoulders hunching automatically inwards as he got closer.

His blood slicked hand held the blade, the handle clean and safe presented to his Lord as he fell to his knees.

Voldemort ignored the irritating man and twisted the knife in his hand so the handle was presented to Harry. "I believe I have not let you have a turn...My apologies – how about you finish it? Imagine the fact that he will drown in his own blood, it will flood his lungs and stomach...clog his throat... such a terrible way to go..."

Harry took the blade hesitantly and said rather sulkily, a healthy flush on his pale cheeks from watching the torture. "It's not a dementor..." He heard himself muttering.

Voldemort laughed, in that high pitched hiss that made Harry's whole body shudder. "No, Harry, it is not. But he will have to face all the people he killed. He will have to face your mother – who he let down so wholly..."

Harry saw and heard Snape sob and curl in on himself. From that reaction he suddenly found himself warming up to the idea.

Harry looked at him and said "Yeah...I think you may be right with that..."

"Of course I am." Voldemort said calmly, assured in the knowledge that he was always right.

So Harry did it, and made sure he had Snape's eyes caught on his own when he did – so he could see that little bit of Lily he had glaring at him in hatred. So the last thing Severus Snape would ever know is that he was hated and unloved that not even someone like Lily could ever ever want him.

~ Deal With The Devil~

It finished when the blade was pressed against the pale gullet and drawn sharp and quick, a gasp of pain became a gurgle of choking, and the boy who lived killed Severus Snape. Blood spurted out of the wound, soaking Harry with a violent spray of crimson fluid.

The Dark Lord used his two blood coated fingers to wipe Snape's blood around Harry's mouth "So pretty..." He whispered. "I must call my followers now, Harry. Go and sit on that gravestone whilst we meet – we need a discussion about the terms of our agreement before you can leave." Harry nodded and staggered to his feet and leaned heavily on an unmarked grave, whilst Voldemort walked over to the curled ball that was Pettigrew.

Wormtail was dragged up from the ground by his hair and his mark was used once again. Only seconds later did multiple 'pops' occur and many people were before the Dark Lord, all dressed in black robes with white masks covering their faces.

"Greetings, my faithful followers." The Dark Lord began as they all dropped to their knees before him. "As you can see I have returned, to so many disappointing things." He hissed angrily, as he paced before them, blood soaked hands clasped behind his back and his wand interlinked with his fingers. "Although some pleasant things have come to my attention as well." He continued, as though it was an afterthought. A few fugitive glances were shot at the blood soaked from underneath their masks, but their attention was soon directed back to the angry man who owned them.

"We have many things to talk about this evening, my faithful followers. So perhaps like the old days we shall go to Malfoy Manner." He turned to a figure with blonde hair spilling down his shoulders. "I trust there are no objections, Lucius?" He asked, though it was more of the question of whether he had the guts to defy the Dark Lord.

"It would be an honour to have you in my home once more." Lucius said, words dripping in deference - it was almost sickening.

"I also want you all to see this," Voldemort began, and swung a hand in the direction of the cadaver with a devious and self-satisfied grin. "Observe the traitor – Severus Snape."

There was no sound for a few moments, just the sound of material moving as they shifted uneasily.

Voldemort picked up Snape's ripped out Dark Mark with his nails and flung it onto the ground where everyone could see. He moved forward, his robe soaking up the puddles of blood and his bare feet became stained by it, he stopped in the centre were everyone could see him.

"This is what will happen to anymore traitors in my army. And it will be a long night for all of us..." He said simply, with a dark undertone, he didn't raise his voice but then again he didn't need to. He gave them all one last penetrating glare before turning his head away his Death Eaters who cowered on the ground around him. He used his teeth to hook out the remaining smears of blood from under his nail and he turned the rest of his body sharply his body aligning with his head in the uncanny way of a snake. The blood that soaked the ground was whipped up by his long black robe and swung the droplets of blood onto his servants, their masks getting a spotting of red.

"Go." He said and the sea of black disappeared almost instantly, no one lingering longer than necessary.

"What happens now?" Harry asked softly, his eyes still locked on the dead body a few feet from him. He had signed over his body to the Dark Lord for this...and yet he didn't regret it in the slightest.

"Well you cannot go back to Hogwarts – at least not yet...and you're covered in blood." Voldemort walked up to him and pulled him up by the collar of his shirt. "I suppose I will have to keep you for a few days..."

He took Harry's bleeding limb and licked the blood out of the wound; Harry shuddered at the painful sparks that echoed the Dark Lord's touch. He didn't attempt to move away though, and moved closer to the dark intoxicating presence.

"Harry... I think we might be able to get along very well – very well indeed. We can make history."


A/N – That's it... I hope it wasn't a disappointing conclusion to the story, I'm not sure I liked it... Drop a review please and let me know what you think. I'm sure there were mistakes and as I said I am sorry for that but I had tried to omit as many as I could find – I scoured it to the best of my ability.

Thanks to all my reviewers and people who alerted – I couldn't believe how many alerted! Seriously... :O Thanks so much!

Anyhow as this was the last chapter reviews would be really appreciated. :~)