Where Lies Will Not Blossom

Author: Akumu Suta-Raito

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R (Adult)

Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, H/C

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Warnings: Language, Anal, Explicit Torture, Disturbing imagery.

Summary: When Draco disobeys everything he’s learned in a single action, he is made a prisoner in his own home. Can Harry and Severus save him, or will he be destroyed by an obsessive Dark Lord's plans? Can bonds of love and friendship triumph over ultimate evil? Harry/Draco, H/C, Tort, Lang, Anal

Author’s Note: First off, I want to say that there won’t be more Draco in this chapter. Sorry about that, but this chapter became so long that I had to cut it in two. The next chapter will definitely contain Draco. I promise! Also, I’m trying something a bit new for this chapter: Introspective Sirius. I thought it might be interesting to see what goes on in his head without making him sound like a rash idiot. Plenty of people have him portrayed as a fun loving prankster with no space for regret in his head. I would like to think that there’s more to the man who survived 12 years in Azkaban. Also, more Sirius/Remus developments in this chapter! Fluff warning!

ANOTHER NOTE: Except for certain circumstances, the Dark Lord’s hiss with every word that has an ‘s’ in it will be implied and not written into the actual dialogue. Constantly adding a extra ‘s’ or two is not only tiresome, but leaves more room for grammatical errors.

Thanks to my wonderful beta Vittani for editing this chapter so quickly! You're awesome!

Chapter Ten: Working out the Details

Sirius woke slowly, feeling a little less sluggish then he usually did. While he hadn’t wanted to show others just how weak he felt, Sirius had found himself sleeping late quite a lot these past few weeks. His strength was returning gradually, but his impatient nature made it seems like years.

He couldn’t manage more than a trip to the lavatory. For someone as independent as him, it was more than a little distressing. The previous year was a testament to how Sirius reacted to being confined. Even he, looking back on the events, could see that his actions had been utterly reckless. Recklessness fuelled by a desire to prove he wasn’t useless. But he’d learned his lesson. Sirius chuckled tiredly. Remus would fall over from shock if he ever heard Sirius Black admitting he was wrong.

But Remus was actually the reason why he regretted his actions at the Department of Mysteries. Remus and Harry. Although he hadn’t been able to see their devastation first hand, passing comments made him realize the pain he’d put them both through. He’d found out from Hermione that Harry hardly ate, slept, or smiled after his death. And Harry being, well, Harry – happy, content kid that he was – shocked him with that out of character behavior.

And Remus. Remus who, after his death, hadn’t had anyone to lean on. Quiet, silent Remus suffering alone and unnoticed by those around him. Remus, who went through two full moons without him, after Sirius had made the solemn promise to never let the werewolf face them alone.

Seeing Remus break down in front of him had been the clincher. The sandy-haired man had to be the most reserved person he’d ever known – better at hiding his emotions than any Slytherin. Watching the tears stream down his cheeks, seeing the pain on that face…

Even now it made his insides squirm with guilt. Although he was still a bit fuzzy on the events that led to him being pushed through the Veil, others relayed what happened. The last thing he remembered was being in the process of rushing over to the Ministry. After that… things got confusing. Sirius could the remember the chaos of battle, brightly colored spells flashing, the feeling of powerful magic, Bellatrix’s mocking laughter, his own arrogance… nothing but impressions and the smallest flashes of imagery.

No, it wasn’t his fault that his cousin had been a murderous sycophant for the Dark Lord. But there was no excuse for egging her on the way he had, or letting his guard down in the process. He’d been shamed when Kingsley showed him the events in Albus’ pensieve. He wished that he couldn’t remember anything at all.

After seeing himself act like such a bloody idiot, his memories were slowly resurfacing. Most disturbing was his utter selfishness. Sirius could feign ignorance all he wanted, but he knew exactly what he’d been thinking while he dueled Bella.

He hadn’t been thinking about Harry or Remus in that moment, no. Not about how he was the closest thing his
godson had to a father or how he would rekindle his relationship with Moony. He’d been thinking about finally getting to knock Bellatrix on her arse, about the satisfaction of finally being able to do something useful. About how Snape would no longer mock him about being a freeloader once he took out the Dark Lord’s more reverent supporter.

He’d been a fool. But he could continue on with his self-chastisement later.

Yawning and stretching lethargically, Sirius resigned himself to another day of lazing about. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to find something interesting to –

At that moment, the door creaked open slowly and two amber eyes peered at him in an almost nervous fashion.

Immediately, his chest was filled with a soft warmth. It was a feeling he had always associated with his
Remus. Yes, he liked the way that sounded. His Remus.

“I – didn’t know if you would be awake yet,” Remus murmured from the doorway, but made no move to enter the room. Crap. He could see the barely concealed indecision in those eyes. The werewolf was unsure of how he should address what had happened between them the night before. Especially the kiss.

Well, that just wouldn’t do. He wouldn’t allow Remus to pretend that it never happened. Sirius wanted to move forward, not backtrack.

“Hey, Remus. Come in and keep me company. I’m bored,” Sirius complained with a large grin, unable to keep the whine completely out of his voice.

“You still have marks on your cheek from the pillow. I don’t understand how you could possibly be bored if you’ve only just woken.” Remus said this as he moved towards the bed slowly. Besides the lightness of his words, there was a certain skittishness to his movements that told Sirius he would have to be careful.

“Hmph,” was Sirius’ response.

“Very mature,” Remus teased gently, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve been told so,” Sirius replied in a lofty voice, delighted when a small chuckle escaped from the other man’s lips. Their eyes locked for a moment. Sirius’ breath was taken away. Then Remus’ eyes averted, and the moment was gone.

“How – are you feeling today?” Remus was still looking to the floor as he said this, and Sirius wanted to scream in frustration. He wanted to see those eyes again, even if for just a second. He wanted to know how much Remus cared for him – wanted to see that warmth. Most of all, he wanted to tell Remus that he loved him.

If only he weren’t the cowardly sort of Gryffindor. “Ready to get out of this bloody bed, but knowing my body isn’t exactly up to it,” Sirius admitted sheepishly.

“You have made plenty of progress since you first showed up here,” Remus remarked. “You looked as if you’d been put through quite the ringer. I –” Remus stopped before the words left his mouth, his face tightening briefly.

“Yeah. I don’t really remember the first couple of days back. I think I was pretty out of it.”

Surprisingly, Remus snorted. “You were pretty out of it. When you weren’t unconscious or delirious with fever, you were so full of nutrition potions that nothing you said was inoffensive. It was actually – quite amusing.”

Sirius’ eyebrows rose slightly. No one had mentioned that. “Really?”

“Yes. They actually kept Harry out of the room, lest he here something that would make his virgin ears burn off.” The werewolf had a bit of a blush on his cheeks, obviously remembering some of the things Sirius had said.

The black-haired man was more than a little interested in what had happened during those days now. That would explain the reason why everyone had seemed slightly discomfited around him after he came to. Sirius had thought it simply because of his miraculous reappearance.

Plus, anything that made Remus blush was a good thing. “Was it really that bad?”

“It was worse than when you got drunk at James and Lily’s reception.”

Sirius choked slightly. “W-What? Was I… that out of it?”

Sirius was known by most (at least those who used to go drinking with him) as a shockingly vulgar and amorous drunk. The part of the brain that kept most men from spouting out every perverted thought that ran through their head malfunctioned every time Sirius got smashed. While he wasn’t in the least violent and never forced himself on anyone while imbibed, he would almost always end up treating his date and/or a perfect stranger to a wild and slightly kinky night. For the last couple of years before he got thrown in Azkaban, all of Sirius’ drunken attentions had been focused on one person: Remus. It had inferred plenty about the depth of his feelings. Sirius, perhaps the horniest drunk known to man, had never once strayed from Remus. No matter how pissed he got.

It was something none of Sirius’ previous flings could boast.

And while it took a lot to embarrass the likes of Padfoot, the idea that he might have told Molly Weasley or gods forbid Snape something pertaining to the size of his cock was nothing less than mortifying.

Remus gave him a sideways glance. “Let me put it this way: anyone who hadn’t known the nature of our relationship had intimate details of how we get on by the third day you were here.”

The werewolf flushed even deeper after saying this and Sirius couldn’t contain his snicker. Yes, anything that made Remus blush was definitely a good thing. He opened his mouth to say something sly that would have likely competing with his comments while under the influence of potions when Remus’ phrasing made him freeze. The man had said the ‘nature of the relationship’ and ‘how we get on’ in present tense – not past.

It took a moment for the implications to fully hit him.

That meant – that meant Remus still cared for him romantically, at least. Maybe even still loved him. Oh gods – this, this was wonderful. Little fireworks of joy were exploding in his head, and if he were Padfoot at the moment, there was no doubt that his tail would be wagging as he ran around in excited circles.
Remus must have lost his usual adeptness for reading Sirius’ face and thought the shock there was something negative for he began to frown concernedly.

“What’s wrong? Are you –” The werewolf never got to finish his sentence as his mouth was suddenly filled with his best friend’s tongue. His eyes widened in shock for a moment, both because he was surprised a man on bed rest could move so fast and at the fire that seemed to be coursing through his Lycanthrope veins.

But Remus relaxed after a moment, his golden eyes falling shut as he surrendered to the slick feeling of Sirius’s tongue dancing with his own. It was so easy to close his eyes and believe it was sixteen years prior, him and Sirius snogging furiously as they tried to avoid being caught by James, who would rib them
mercilessly.

He could feel the lips began to swell and bruise against his own as he began to map out a mouth he’d never truly forgotten. Then Sirius ran his nimble tongue across his top incisors and Remus gave a full-body shiver, the wolf howling in the recesses of his mind at the arousing touch. Ah, god. Sirius had never truly forgotten his mouth, either.

Fine-boned but capable hands ran through silver streaked auburn-mahogany hair, making him give another shudder and release a small moan. Remus wanted to reciprocate the action, aching to feel Sirius’ dark, soft locks under his fingers, but his body felt heavy and his limbs weighted. Almost as if he was swimming through molasses.

And as suddenly as the kiss had begun, it ended. Remus found himself leaning forward slightly, trying to prologue the feeling of those lips against his. His eyes locked with Sirius’, staring into the enlarged pupils in an almost dazed fashion, unable to snapped out of his stupor.

“W-Why… Sirius –” The werewolf made a false attempt to wiggle out of the other man’s embrace, not really wanting to be separated from him.

“Remus, let’s try again,” Sirius nearly whispered, his eye’s half-lidded and his lips mere inches away from Remus’.

“I –” Remus mouth faintly, his voiced robbed from him.

“I need you.”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear the emotion in the pair in front of him. “You can’t. I’m not… good for you – or anyone.”

“You are,” Sirius countered earnestly. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“I believed you betrayed me. I left you to, to rot in that…”

“No – Remus. Don’t.”

“I don’t even know how you stomach looking at me,” Remus continued as if he hadn’t heard Sirius, eyes still closed.

“You’re the most beautiful person I know.” How Sirius could say that with so much truth in his voice was a mystery.

“No. I’m a weak, deformed, cowardly, infected animal who hated you for years. How can you –”

“Don’t you ever say that about yourself!” He didn’t even flinch when the hands around his tightened almost painfully, or when Sirius’s raised voice echoed around the room. The other Gryffindor had always been quick to jump to his defense, even when he didn’t deserve it.

Especially when he didn’t deserve it.

“You can’t deny the truth.”

“Neither can you.” Remus didn’t even know what that was supposed to mean.

“Sirius…”

“I love you,” Sirius snapped heatedly, “And I’m not taking no for a bloody answer, Remy! Not because you have some misguided belief that my going to Azkaban was your fault or because you won’t allow yourself to be happy. Stop being so bleeding stubborn!”

Remus finally opened eyes to find Sirius looking livid, his mouth pressed into a firm line. His eyes were blazing with so many emotions, but Remus could see the love there… so much of it. It didn’t make sense. Why was Sirius deluding himself? He wasn’t – and never was – this wonderful person the Black heir had always seen. He began to state just that when Sirius uttered a single word. One word, a plea – spoken so brokenly.

“Please.” Tears sung in his eyes and he swallowed the lump in his throat as Sirius face took on the most anguished expression Remus had ever seen. “Why won’t you just let me make you happy? We were happy before, weren’t we?”

“Sirius,” he whimpered faintly.

“Please,” Sirius murmured again, brushing his lips lightly against Remus’ once more.

He was quiet for a long while. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally declared as a single tear dripped from his eyelash. Sirius kissed it away.

“You are hurting me.” What could Remus possibly say to refute such an honest statement?

Nothing, nothing except… “I love you so much.” Saying the words felt like uttering a deadly curse, like howling at the full moon, like… like coming home.

“Then stop fighting me.”

Remus stared blindly at their joined hands as a few more teardrops ran down his face to splash on the
appendages. He wanted to look up, but he couldn’t. Because Sirius was crying too.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found it too dry to form words. Swallowing briefly, he attempted to verbalize words – the words that would end all of this madness.

“I –” His voice was so raspy that it sounded like a dry quill on parchment. “I want to – try again.”

“Oh thank gods, thank gods,” Sirius choked out over and over again as he crushed Remus to his chest, feeling the man grasp his torso desperately as he soaked his pajamas with tears. But that was okay. Because Remus’ hair was catching the drops of moisture from his own face.


Severus had a headache. No, scratch that. He had an invisible, undetectable troll using its ax to split his temple in two, chortling all the while. And no, this wasn’t just an extremely exaggerated hyperbole. It was a little known fact that the Potion’s Master suffered from often agonizing tension headaches.
They actually explained much about his snappish and impolite disposition.

It was hard to deal with children that didn’t know the difference between sugar root and mandrake while it felt like brain matter was leaking from the back of his skull. It also didn’t help that Severus wasn’t a naturally good-tempered individual. He really was that mean-spirited and sharp-tongued, but without the pains in his temple, Severus could probably hold back most of his sharp barbs. The only person he’d found that could sympathize with the pain he went through on a daily basis had been Draco, who suffered from similar chronic migraines.

But headaches would be the least of Draco’s problems if – when – he got out of his current mess. And if this wasn’t the worst time to be concerning himself with such things, while he was being stared down by the Dark Lord himself? Especially with the pains making his head throb so distractingly. This weakness never failed to make its presence known when Severus needed his wits about him the most.

No one truly understood how complex it was to constantly Occlude while making sure that one of the most powerful Legimens of all time had no idea he was doing it. It was not merely enough to hide his true thoughts and desires effectively. Severus also had to make his mind appear completely open to the Dark Lord, as any type of mental shield blocking His entry would be considered treason.

The fact that Voldemort hadn’t yet found out Severus’ allegiances was due to two factors. One, that Severus was perhaps the most powerful and skilled Occlumens alive at the moment. The second factor dealt with the Dark Lord’s rather sloppy use of Legilimency. While the monster’s sheer power was extraordinary, his Legilimency was operated using brute force and strength instead of finesse and skill. While this boorish technique had worked on every person Voldemort had ever attempted it on, the Dark Lord was unable to foresee (due to his foolish cockiness) the possibility of meeting someone who could Occlude as powerfully as he could Legilimens.

It was the only advantage Severus had against him, and it was one he used with the utmost care. Which is why he was currently carefully manipulating the Dark Lord to ignore the little dark pockets in the recesses of his mind while his memories were ransacked for any sign of disloyalty.

Yes, Draco’s little double-cross had left Mr. All-Powerful-and-Omniscient-Lord just the tiniest bit paranoid about his followers. To say the least. If the son of Lucius Malfoy, one of the most loyal and fanatical of his followers, could risk his life to save a muggle girl, what little secrets were the others keeping?

Several lower level Death Eaters had found themselves on the business end of an Avada Kedavra after the Dark Lord found a bit of discontent with his methods in their heads. Eight, to be exact. Severus was most definitely not going to be number nine. But, then again, he wasn’t exactly lower level.

He finally felt Voldemort withdraw from his mind with a viciousness that was both inherent and unintentional. He wondered briefly if the Dark Lord knew how amateurish his Legilimency was – doubtful since the bastard thought himself to be no less than a God.

“Stand, Severus.” Severus stood slowly, his head still bowed slightly to show deference he really didn’t feel. Was it just him, or were the Dark Lord’s unconscious ‘hiss’ becoming less noticeable?

“My Lord, how may I be of service?” 'You Called me here, so give me something to do. Quickly. Before my rage over what you are doing to my godson overcomes my common sense and I set you aflame with fiendfyre,' Severus thought rather desperately. At this very moment, all of his hate and desire for vengeance were being drowned into pools in the very back of his mind. Even with that, it was all he could do to not launch himself at the pedophile and attempt to beat his face in – all thoughts of magic forgotten. He wanted to feel skin split under his knuckles.

'I will see you dead,' Severus promised himself suddenly. Even if it means my life ends the moment you are put out of existence.

“First I may need to remind you not to speak without permission.” No it definitely wasn’t his imagination; the Dark Lord’s words had somehow become less sibilant. Perhaps he’d read from one of the dead fool’s minds how his words sounded more like a lisp than Parseltongue.

Severus suddenly remembered he was supposed to show fear when the Dark Lord raised his wand. And now, instead of casting the usual ‘Crucio,’ the Dark Lord was watching him with undisguised curiosity. Oh, bugger.

“Am I ssso uninteresssting, Ssseveruss,” the Dark Lord snapped out. “That I cannot keep your attention?” And damn, that horrible ‘sss’ after nearly every word was back. Severus forced himself to stop obsessing over Voldemort’s bad pronunciation before he did indeed end up being number nine.

“Forgive me, my Lord. I did not mean to appear… uninterested.” And, even better. That had come out nearly sarcastic. If he hadn’t been such a high-ranking Death Eater, second only to Lucius now that Bellatrix was dead, some of his limbs would be missing. What in the hells was wrong with him? He would be unable to plan Draco’s escape if he ended up in the dungeons himself. He had to put his rage behind him for now. For Draco.

“Crucio,” the snake hissed out lazily. He’d been put under this so often, the unbearable agony derived from Dark magic manipulating his nerves almost felt familiar. He fell to his knees, fighting back the screams that would probably satisfy Voldemort more, and instead making low keening sounds in the back of his throat.

Finally, after an eternity of burning pain, the spell was ended when Severus was unable to hold back a sharp cry. “My slippery Potion’s Master… all these years have not taught to you to hold that wily tongue of yours. I am beginning to find it most tiresome.”

Severus continued to kneel, staring down at the cobbled floor beneath him with the pent up rage of almost twenty years. He had to get control of himself… had to. Draco was depending on him, waiting for absolution from the hell he’d stumbled into. And he would do anything and everything possible get Draco out.
With that resolve in mind, Severus composed himself with near impeccable ease. “Forgive me, my Lord,” he said once more with reverent deference and shame.

“You have so much fury, my Potion’s Master. I can taste it in the very air I breathe,” Voldemort mused. “What enrages you so?”

After years of being a double agent, Severus had learned one truth – the best lies weren’t really lies at all. “Draco,” he murmured truthfully. “It leaves me… distraught that a boy I influenced has made such grave errors. He does not deserve his life, my Lord, does not deserve to still be in our presence. I am angry that he has not been dealt with.” After saying this, he looked up cautiously to observe the Dark Lord’s reaction to his words.

Voldemort seemed to consider his words carefully before something akin to amusement graced that snake-like face. “Your dear godson’s actions have disturbed you so?”

Severus inclined his head slightly. “It is true, my Lord.”

“And you ache for his death?”

Every fiber of his being burned with the injustice of it all as Severus answered with a quick nod. Gods, if he got one moment alone with Draco, just one moment, he would find a way to get him out. Damn Albus and his bloody plans; if he got an opening, the emergency Portkey meant for his personal use would be activated to send Draco away.

Never mind that the plan was dangerous and prone to failure because the wards would prevent the Portkey from working effectively. The transportation device was supposed to be used during raids only. Never mind that even if it did work, it wouldn’t have enough power to move both him and Draco. Never mind that he would be left behind, facing certain death as a traitor as well as rape once his glamour was broken.

Nothing he thought of at the moment was bound to be rational.

Rationality had left him the moment he’d found out Draco was being… touched by that monster.

“And if I forbid his death, dear Severus? Would your rage cause you to disobey my orders? Would you have to be put down like a rabid dog, blinded by the indignity of the pretty traitor being allowed to live?” He forced himself not to react to these words while he thought of the perfect response. Though they were said lightly, in an amused fashion, there was danger in these words. Severus would have to tread carefully.

“Your will, my Lord… your will is my true law. If you forbid Draconis to be harmed, I shall do nothing but carry out your orders.” Obviously, he’d said something wrong, for the Dark Lord tightened a skeletal hand around his wand as his red eyes became suddenly enraged. Severus was surprised he hadn’t been cursed yet.

“His name is not to pass from your lips, unworthy fool.”

Severus closed his eyes in horror, swallowing the bile in this throat. That the Dark Lord had become so entrenched in his obsession with Draco was terrifying. To forbid the mentioning of his name, as if his godson was some sort of deity…

For perhaps the first time, Severus seriously considered that this may be more than just a passing fancy for Voldemort. This power that the Dark Lord believed Draco to have was obviously something he coveted. And because of this, perhaps Draco was safer now than when he’d just been a hated traitor. Almost immediately, Severus regretted thinking such a thing. Draco’s life would mean nothing if, by the time they were able to get to him, his sanity was so broken by the Dark Lord’s advances that he was merely a shell of his former self.

Steeling himself, Severus looked up, relaxing slightly when he saw that Dark Lord did not seem inclined to curse him. “I apologize for the error, my Lord.” 'You sick, sick fuck. I’m going to help end you, I swear it. I swear it…' Severus did not know that his godson had made the same promise to himself only days before.

The Dark Lord gave him a deadened stared for several long moments, and Severus could feel a single bead of sweat travel from the nape of his neck and down his spine. He felt the harsh, blunt prodding of Legimency breaking through his seemingly unprotected mind and waited for the Dark Lord to find (or not find) what he was looking for.

Then, the Dark Lord made the most petrifying facial expression Severus had ever seen: a smile. “You are very loyal to your liege. Aren’t you, Potion’s Master?”

Severus constructed his face into a slightly adoring expression he knew the Dark Lord favored. “I am your most loyal servant, Master.”

This seemed the delight Voldemort even more, if that was at all possible. “Then you will not balk from the task I will give to you?”

Severus’ eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, to his shame. He couldn’t help it – the Dark Lord had never, not even once, allowed someone to refuse a task assigned to them. And yet Voldemort was phrasing it as if Severus had a choice – it was most disturbing.

“I am nothing more than willing to do your bidding, Master.”

“Very well, Severus. You will use your skill in potions to make me a draught.”

He found himself nodding, fighting not to show obvious relief. A potion, no matter its nefarious purpose, was something he could easily do. For a moment he’d thought that the Dark Lord would force him to do something truly despicable. Not to say that potions weren’t deadly enough, but –

“Make me the Gigno Latito.” (1) To say he was shocked would be perhaps the understatement of the century. To say he was horrified would be the understatement of the millennia. To say he wanted to run screaming from the throne room, cover be damned would be… the truth. But Severus found himself nodding and accepting the cursed task, promising to brew a potion that no Master had successfully brewed before. Promising to make a draught that had killed every person who attempted to do so, and swearing not to return until it was made. Thank the gods the clever little charm in his pocket was currently drawing a mystical map of the Manor, because Severus doubted he would return anything but a traitor.

As he walked down the corridor, forcing himself not to break into a sprint, Severus hysterically thought that Albus’ plan was not the worse idea he’d ever heard.

TBC – Do you have a clue as to what Albus might be planning?

(1) Gigno Latito – Gigno means to bring forth in Latin and latito means to lie hidden. It is supposed to be interpreted as ‘bring forth what lies hidden,’ but I apologize for what has to be atrocious grammar. I don’t have a really good source on Latin, so if anyone knows a good Latin dictionary, or the correct way to write out the name of this draught, please let me know. As for what the draught does… that remains to be seen. Don’t worry, you’ll find out eventually!

Thanks to my wonderful reviewers!

thrnbrooke – Well, the mystery behind the Grimoyre will be revealed soon enough, but it’ll be a little while before you know all the details. All I’ll really say is that some very old, very powerful magic is at work. Thanks so so much for reviewing!

FallenAngel1129 – Heh. Well I’m glad that you like the story – that is what I aim for, after all. Thanks for the review, and I hope this chapter keeps you hooked!

Vittani – I’m really glad that you liked this chapter so much; I was really trying out something new with it. I have an idea (well, more than an idea) about who I’ll put Sev with. It’s pretty unique; I haven’t seen anyone do it, although I’m sure someone somewhere has to have attempted it. I’m still trying to wrap my head around how these two people will fit together, but I think I can make it work. The only hint I’ll give you is that it’s someone who’s younger than Sev. And no, it’s not Ron or Hermione (ew, ew, ew) Not much of a hint, I know .

Yes, I think it’s about time that Harry learns the usefulness of books and how to handle them. I’m tired of him being dependant on Hermione – he’s not a complete idiot and he can research things for himself. But you right about the paper cuts. Got one myself today from cardboard -_-.

I wanted to show how conflicted Harry was without being repetitive. He feels this unexplainable pull towards the book, even when his logical mind is telling him that no book that talks to him can be a good thing *cough* Tom Riddle *cough*.

You are right about Hermione putting her foot in it. While I’m going to be true to their canon friendship and not portray her as a total bitch, she does have her moments of little-Ms.-annoying-know-it-all. I’m not going to pretend she’s perfect – she’s got plenty of flaws. Her main one being that she can’t distinguish everyone else’s business from her own.

Thanks for review, I really appreciate it. And thanks for beta-ing even more!

luv2cusmile – In this story, Harry will never go ‘Dark’ in the way that Voldemort is ‘Dark.’ What I mean is, while Harry may learn to appreciate dealing with the Darker Arts, he won’t suddenly start to aspire to be the next Dark Lord or any such nonsense. He’ll still be Harry, just better prepared for the final confrontation between him and Voldemort. Thanks so much for reviewing, I really appreciate it!