My Past Will Always Catch Up

Title: My Past Will Always Catch up
Author: Allanasha Ke Kiri
Summary: After the deaths of both Ron and Hermione in their seventh year, Harry ran. The pressure was too much; they thought he’d be back, after he realized they needed him. But he never returned, just ran and hid in the one place he was sure no one would look for him.
Rating: M
Warnings: Sexual content
Pairing: Voldemort/Harry

Chapter 9

I was out of work for three days before Kesa returned. She insisted she was fine, despite the fact that she looked like death warmed over. With the kid’s agreement, we forced her into bed, if only for the rest of the day. She wouldn’t agree to anything else. The woman had an odd glint in her eye when she agreed, and one I didn’t want to figure out. It probably wouldn’t bode well for me.

I stayed one more night to make sure everything was settled, and to make sure the children knew to go easy on her for a while. Then, I returned to the club. As I’d thought, the other dancers mobbed me. They snickered and patted my back, congratulating me. With each touch, I could feel my eye twitching.

Finally, I’d had enough and shifted away from the next person trying to touch me.

“The matron is back,” I told them, blankly. “The children are well.”

That was all that mattered.

“Yeah, that’s great and all, Rae,” Michael said. He was blond, and one of the three that was constantly trying to get me to ‘hang out’. “But what we want to know is how this came about.”

I withheld a sigh, and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “One of the children called and wanted my help keeping the others calm.” I told them blankly.

“Yeah, but how’d you meet them in the first place?” David asked. “You’re not exactly very … social, Raven.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“Aw, come on Rae. We’re just curious. You’re so tightlipped about your life that we get excited with every little nugget.” Michael’s voice was very reasonable, but damn it, I didn’t want to ‘share’.

After a quick inner debate, I decided to give in. I didn’t want them angry with me … well, peeved at me. It made for awkward working conditions.

“The orphanage is near my home,” I told them, shortly. “I visit them at least once a week. They trust me.”

There, that explained things. Not to their satisfaction, perhaps (as their looks suggested), but it was all they were going to get. And they knew it too. I moved through them before they could ask any farther questions.

“Raven.”

I was stopped in front of my mirror. Turning, I faced my boss.

“I trust everything’s alright?”

I nodded once.

“Good. The customers have missed you,” he said.

I shrugged. So? It would just increase their need; probably increase my pay as well. Which was good. There was no way Kesa would be able to pay her hospital bills on her own.

Jonathan sighed. “Follow me,” he said.

For the second time that night, I withheld a sigh and followed him to his office. Upon entering behind him, I paused, blinking at the large tank in front of his desk. Or rather, the snake within the tank.

“You know they’ll be expecting something special,” he said. “And it’s been awhile since you did it last.”

I nodded once, my eyes on the snake. I was familiar with it, as it was the one Jonathan always borrowed for the dance. I really didn’t want to do it this time because I knew there’d be Death Eater’s in the audience, and I knew they’d connect pieces, and I knew it would get back to Voldemort. However, I couldn’t very well turn him down. I’d been the one to suggest it originally. That was about three years ago.

“Very well, Jonathan,” I said finally.

“Great. I’ll leave you alone for a few, and let you do whatever it is you do.” And Jonathan was gone, closing the door behind him. He hadn’t even told me to all him Jon … perhaps he was afraid I’d change my mind? No, it was more likely his fear of snakes was getting in the way.

Shaking my head, I moved forward and knelt in front of the tank.

::Speaker,:: the snake said with a brief nod of its head.

::Saren,:: I replied, softly.

::You are to hold me again.:: It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.

::Do you object, Saren?::

::No, it will be good to be away from this prison,:: he hissed back disdainfully.

::I am sorry Saren, it is not within my power to free you.::

The snake was silent a moment as it shifted around to stare at me. ::Do not worry, Speaker. My imprisonment is not your problem. You give me a taste of freedom. That is enough.::

Not, it wasn’t, but I really couldn’t do anything else. I didn’t say anything as I shoved back the lid, reaching in and pulling the albino constrictor out. He let out a pleased hiss as he was draped across my shoulders. Bloody hell, I’d forgotten how heavy he was. Well, no matter, I still had several hours until we preformed. Plenty of time to get used to the weight.

I left the office with Saren’s tail draped down my side and wrapped around my waist. His head rose up and lay on my opposite shoulder, looking behind me. Everyone gave me strange looks as I walked passed. I’m sure I knew why. None of them would want a snake that big anywhere near their throat, not when it could crush it in seconds. Saren wouldn’t hurt me though; speakers were too rare for them to want to harm us. We were a … curiosity.

I ignored them as I made my way to a side room. It was where all our spare clothes lay, because it was just easier than keeping it all at home. Especially when there was a sudden change in the schedule, like now.

I made my way over to my section. Normally, the dancers shared clothing; it just made things easier, and let everyone have a much larger wardrobe. However, no one else was either as short, or as … petite as I was. I blamed it on the Dursley’s and how often I’d gone hungry, the memory got back where they belonged.

I silently shifted through the clothing until I found a pair of leather pants. I wouldn’t wear a shirt. The snake covered most of me anyway. So there really wasn’t any need. I slung it over my arm, running my hand over part of the snake as I left the room again. Saren hissed teasingly at one of the dancers, making him step back warily.

I shook my head slightly. For some reason, Saren enjoyed making the others nervous. Said it was fun. I’d given up telling them Saren couldn’t (wouldn’t) hurt them. They never listened, and as long as nothing happened, it really didn’t matter.

When I got back to my mirror (more like my vanity really), I put the pants down. There was still a while before I had to change.

***

The dance is always different, because the snake moves. So while it always starts out the same, me on stage with Saren draped over the nook of my elbows and behind my back, it quickly changes. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants during it, including trying to get away. I have to dance and make sure he stays on me. It gets very interesting when he decides to tighten and make it look like he’s attempted to crush me. He did that tonight.

There’s an element of danger to dancing with Saren … for the audience anyway. They don’t know that he wouldn’t hurt me. Especially since I’m a predator on stage, and completely at the mercy of the snake tightly wrapping itself around my small form.

Of course, when that happens, I play it up, letting my breath become quicker, shorter, but still moving. Always moving.

Voldemort was there. I’d felt it the moment he entered the building. He’d seen me dance. He’d seen me dance with the snake. I knew he’d find out eventually, but I’d been hoping for a little more time. He’d probably try and turn this on me too, now that he knew I danced with one. He might not have heard Saren speak, but when is a snake ever silent for long?

My mind grumbled as I left the building, once again dressed in the clothes I’d arrived in.
I could only hope he didn’t suspect I was playing him. If he did, I was dead, dead with no chance of escape. Glancing down at my wrist, I wondered just how likely escape was.

I was mildly surprised to find that neither Voldemort nor any Death Eater awaited me. For a moment, suspicion rose. Where the hell were they? Surely they wouldn’t have just left?

Shrugging, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and started on my way home. Bed was sounding like a very good idea right now. My schedule was so screwed up, what with getting up early for the kids, and going to sleep before midnight so I could get up early. My body was trying to tell me I’d stayed up too damn late. Couldn’t exactly say I disagreed. I was looking forward to falling over once I got home.

I waved to a few dancers heading home … or not. At least one had a customer. He waved back, and the customer smiled at me. I ignored it. Maybe not the best course of action, for most, but it worked for me. Jonathan even agreed, even if he wished I’d be more open with my co-workers.

Shaking my head, I cleared it of such thoughts. My pace was even as I walked. I was in no hurry to get home. I hadn’t seen Evan since that day at the orphanage, and I was glad of it, but I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him now either.

Evan was currently my least favorite Death Eater … not surprising since he knew my secret.

I rubbed my forehead as I put my key into my lock, I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d do if things stopped being entertaining. I really didn’t want to think of that, so I shook it from my head as I entered and locked the door.

“Harry.”

My eyes closed for a moment. Shit, that hadn’t just been a headache. “I prefer Raven,” I told the Dark Lord as I hung up my coat and bag.

“But that is not who you are,” he answered.

Hypocrite.

I shrugged, outwardly uncaring as I turned. The Dark Lord was sitting on my couch … no, lounging was a much better description. He looked quite at home. I wished he didn’t. Evan was sitting in the chair. If I wanted to sit, I’d have to take the couch. Damn.

“Is there something you wanted, Volemort?” I asked, voice vaguely polite, even though it sounded bored. He raised an eyebrow at me, but didn’t reply right away. Instead, he watched me dig through my bag and pulled out my phone … my dead phone. It’d forgotten my charger when I’d gone to the orphanage. I slipped the phone into my pocket and turned back to my … guest.

“Want something to drink?” I asked, just to show that I could be polite.

“No,” he answered.

I shrugged, and went to the kitchen, well aware of his eyes on me as I moved. I ignored them as I ignored any other … only I knew there was only so long he’d wait until he’d start pushing the lover bit of my ‘past’. But if he thought he’d manage, he had another thing coming.

I returned a moment later with a can of Pespi, and a carefully blank face, and sank down onto the couch. No use letting him know I was uneasy. Glancing over, I saw that Evan was smirking. Well, at least one of us was enjoying this. Sarcasm, I feel your sting.

“I trust you have been well, Harry?”

He was doing it on purpose now. “Well enough,” I replied, opening my can.

I leaned back, twisting slightly so I could look at Voldemort and still be comfortable. I suppose I was lounging as well. How quaint. I took a sip from my can as though I were drinking wine.

“Evan tells me have been … watching muggle children.”

I shrug on shoulder, the one not resting against the couch. “So?”

“I don’t want you associating with muggles.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Well, then I suppose it’s a good thing you have no say over how I spend my time.” I took another sip.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed at me. “I am your lord-“

“No,” I interrupted. “You were my lover.” I was surprised I managed not to stumble over the word … or choke … or gag. “Right now, you’re not even that. And I don’t have that … skull thing the others have, so you weren’t my ‘lord’. I say again, you have no say over how I spend my time.”

I stood, considering this conversation over. However, I didn’t do more than turn before his hand was round my forearm. A pained hiss left my lips and I tried to jerk it away. His grip tightened, forcibly turning me around. When he released me, I took a step back, but both of his hands grabbed my upper arms. Bloody hell, that hurt. I think I’d start wearing sleeves; if nothing else to stay away from the skin-to-skin contact with Voldemort. Him being this close was bad enough.

“You would do well not to anger me, Harry,” he hissed. “You are completely powerless in my grasp.”

I jerked back, hoping to get away, but only succeeded in spilling some of my soda. His grip tightened more. God, it hurt. My eyes closed, trying to block out the pain, and a whimper forced its way up my throat.

He released me. Not having expected it, I slumped to the ground, taking slow deep breaths. The pain was gone at least … well, most of it.

“I’ll have Severus make you that potion,” Voldemort said. “I keep forgetting my touch pains you again.”

Bull.

I stood, my eyes blank. We stared at each other a moment, both silent.

“Was that a common occurrence?”

“I’ve never hit you.”

While that was true … “That’s not what I asked.” My voice was hard and cold.

“I have forced you to stay in such a way, but it didn’t hurt you as it does now.”

Liar. Just one more lie on top of everything else.

I raised an eyebrow. “I need my sleep,” I told him, turning away towards the kitchen. This pretend past didn’t matter, because I was gone as soon as I could get the chance. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

“Muggle children,” Evan said, speaking up for the first time. My eyes are still cold when I glare at him.

“I do not want you seeing those muggles,” Voldemort growled.

I ignored him, entering the kitchen. Voldemort followed me. He didn’t look happy.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but that’s not what I meant.”

Voldemort frowned. “What are you doing-“

“Is none of your concern,” I told him. His eyes flashed angrily. He doesn’t like to be interrupted. Goody.

“You would do well not to make me angry, Harry,” he was so not happy with me. I really didn’t give a fuck.

“Or what? You’ll touch me again? Do that pain spell? There’s only so long that’ll be effective, Voldemort. And it doesn’t scare me. Hurts like a bitch, but it doesn’’t scare me.” I leaned against the counter. Why was I even bothering to explain this to him? Hell if I knew. “I really don’t care if you approve, Voldemort. It’s none of your business what I do.”

His eyes narrowed further.

“Just what the hell is your problem with muggles anyway?” I demanded, crossing my arms and leaning against the counter. I already knew, but I wasn’t supposed to. “You’ve never met them, so why do you hate them so much?”

“They’re muggles,” he sneered. “They’re beneath us.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Mm-hmm … whatever.”

Voldemort’s hand twitched, wanting his wand no doubt. He didn’t draw it, which was surprising. After a silent (very stressful) minute, he turned, apparating away.

Evan was sitting on the arm of the chair when I left the kitchen.

“He’s not happy.”

I snorted. “No shit? I hadn’t noticed.”

Evan smirked at me. “Yet you insist on angering him.”

I shrugged, moving passed him to the hallway. “Habit, I suppose.”

Evan laughed.

--

Sorry it’s been so long since my last update. RL’s kinda gotten in the way of things.

Borednbrowsing: Let’s just say that Voldemort is being a true slytherin and taking hold of a very promising situation. P

BRM: Thanks ^_^ I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. If you don’t mind me asking, what were you confused about?

BlackMaiden: Thanks. I try my best, and it’s nice to know that it’s appreciated.

Shadowama: Raven-Harry remembers everything. He’s just spent the past five years trying to not care, and trying to forget that he’s shoved it all back. Apparently, he was so successful at it, that Voldemort couldn’t find his memories when he went looking. Sorry if that was confusing.

Ravenheart: The Orphans have a purpose … kinda … at least, my muse assures me that they do. And I learned long ago not to argue with him … My Evan? Like, my writing of him? Or just in general?