Indelible

When I had the chapters planned out, this looked to be my favourite so far. I’m all worried that when I write it (the beginning a/n comes before I start the chapter) I won’t like it as much as I thought I would. Fingers crossed.

You’re all going to hate me. Character death warning.

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Words: 4,929
Chapter 13
Love’s Sacrifice
December 20th 1995.

Marvolo Hayes sneered as he brushed the soot off of his robes. Floo travel always, without fail, covered him in ashes and filth, and made him want to sneeze. He rubbed his nose subtly, and glanced behind him as the fireplace sprung to life again and Sirius Grey fell out. Marvolo snorted. Yes, Sirius actually fell out of the fireplace. The other man looked up with a smirk, still lying face down on the floor of Dumbledore’s office.

Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat politely and smiled at them both. “Now that you’re both here, shall we fetch Dorian?” She had sent for the boy when she had received Marvolo’s letter, but since he still hadn’t arrived she had decided to go to him directly.

With a nod, Sirius picked himself up and followed the other two from the office.

“I apologize for Albus’ absence, but something important came up.” The way she avoided their eyes as she spoke was all they needed to guess it had something to do with Voldemort. Sirius tensed, suddenly uncomfortable. The sooner they got Harry away from that school the better he’d feel.

They came to a stop outside of the boys’ room. Thetis waved at them, looking remarkably like Lord Voldemort. She gave Marvolo a wink and shifted back into her natural guise. “Password?” She said with a giggle as the fairies swept over to pull her hair. The Whomping willow swatted at the fairies with her branches, and Thetis laughed as she moved back and forth on her tree swing.

Minerva looked at the two men who shrugged. She let out a frustrated sigh, and rapped her knuckles on the portrait. “Mr. Grey? Mr. Malfoy? Open up please.”

The portrait flung open and Draco Malfoy glared at whoever dared to interrupt him. He sighed when he realized who it was and opened the portrait wider, allowing the other three entrance. He went back to his packing, as Remus watched in amusement from the sofa. While Draco transfigured one sofa into a bed at night and slept on it, he still kept his clothing in Harry’s room, because Tom didn’t have any to take up the spare space.

“I assume Dorian is already gone, but he didn’t pack so I guess that is why you are here.” Draco snorted. He had come to the conclusion half way through the day that Dorian must have gone home early; it was the only possible explanation. He had obviously gotten the Horcruxes and then hightailed it away from Dumbledore. That belief was only reinforced when his father wrote to inform him that neither he nor Dorian would be taking the Hogwarts Express that evening. The Express left early going to Hogwarts, and left late coming home. Most of his friends had finished packing and were making their way to Hogsmeade at that moment. “So like him, he is always leaving everything to the last minute. I cannot believe he forgot to pack before he left!”

“Left?” Minerva asked confused. “We’re here to pick him up, he can’t have left!”

“Well, last night he went to see the headmaster. He wasn’t back when I went to bed, but I figured he was in the library or something. And I couldn’t find him this morning, but when father wrote to say we weren’t taking the Express I assumed he had portkeyed home early.” Draco explained. The more he talked the more he realized that horrid, suffocating feeling that was pressing on his chest and his heart was fear. He was afraid again. He suddenly realized something that had become clear to both Sirius and Voldemort almost immediately. Dumbledore had Harry!

He opened his mouth but Sirius squeezed his shoulder hard. “We’ll find him. He can’t have gone far.”

“Where is Albus? I want to speak with him.” Marvolo demanded, his face set in a scowl. Inside he was burning with anger though he appeared to be calm. How dare that man lay a hand, or a wand, on his Harry? Voldemort gritted his teeth together as he fought to control his temper. He tried to reach out to Tom, but the other part of his soul wasn’t answering. Dumbledore had obviously attempted to block their connection again. He could, however, feel Harry, which was good. Unfortunately Harry was unconscious.

“I already informed you, Albus is currently busy.” Minerva said.

Remus tensed. “Busy kidnapping students,” he mumbled and met Sirius’ eyes with a frown. Minerva heard what he said and immediately bristled.

“How dare-?” She began but Marvolo cut her off.

“No, how dare you? My son is missing, woman, and all you can do is defend your precious Albus. Who, I might point out, was the last person to see my son.” His arms were crossed over his chest and he was glaring daggers at everyone in the room in turn. “Now, if we could try and locate my son?”

Draco swallowed heavily. As the adults argued he had continued packing his trunk, almost on autopilot. He was aware that his hands were folding clothing and lying them in the trunk, but the larger part of his brain couldn’t make his hands stop moving. He sniffled softly. His fingers trembled and what he was holding dropped to the floor. He clenched his hands, before bringing a fist up to rub at his eyes. He had started crying and he hadn’t even realized. “He’ll be ok?” He asked softly, looking at his Lord.

“He will be.” Voldemort answered with conviction. He would kill anyone he had to, anyone who kept him from Harry, and anyone who prevented him from rescuing Harry; most especially Dumbledore. “We will not be needing your services,” he told Minerva dismissively. “If you see Albus inform him that I want a word.”

He took Draco by the shoulder, while Remus grabbed his half packed trunk and Sirius quickly ‘accioed’ all of Dorian’s things. They all took hold of Marvolo, who activated the Portkey back to Malfoy Manor. When they arrived, Draco collapsed to the floor and took three deep breaths. “He’ll be ok?”

Lord Voldemort allowed his body to morph from Marvolo Hayes to his original form and he frowned. “I will do everything in my power to assure that Harry is fine. We will find him, and he will be safe.”

“Mr. Lupin,” Lucius said softly as he made an appearance in the atrium. “How glad I am that you joined us.” They shook hands. “Where’s Harry?” He was met with several sorrowful looks, and one extremely pissed off glare. “Ah,” he said in sudden understanding. He was worried, of course, but this was something they should have expected. “Dumbledore.”

XXX

December 20th 1995.

He groaned lightly and shifted on the bed. Consciousness returned to him slowly, almost sluggishly, as if it were desperately trying to cling to the remains of sleep. He didn’t particularly want to wake up, but he knew there was a reason he should. That reason just kept slipping past the edge of his memories and he knew he needed to wake before the thought would fully come to him.

“Where am I?” He groaned as his eyes fluttered open. It was very late by the time Harry had woken, so all he could see was darkness. He blinked his eyes a few more times, and tried to concentrate on the room. He was lying on a bed, that was obvious, and there were no windows and one door. He tried to sit up but found he was unable. He turned his head and bit back a snarl as he caught sight of the ropes that bound his wrists to the headboard. His legs, though, were free. He tensed his legs, bending them and trying to gain leverage so when he pulled he might have enough strength behind it to snap the ropes, but it didn’t work.

Hissing, the pain in his wrists suddenly frightening him, he looked around a bit more frantically. There was a bedside cabinet. His holly and phoenix feather wand was lying on top, snapped in to two pieces. He was short of a wand, unless he could get Tom’s from out of their Chamber, and whoever had him knew he was Harry Potter.

A small black lump on the floor caught his attention. It was a bag. He didn’t recognize it, but he tried to focus on it, to sense whether it was dangerous to him. Instead, he sensed the horcruxes. They felt like Tom did to him, and a little bit like Voldemort. They were right there, if he could reach them. “No,” he muttered, “have to get untied first.”

He heard footsteps, and then what sounded like a door banging, from directly underneath him. Obviously this place wasn’t very sound proofed. The second the door had closed someone began screaming. Harry wished he could cover his ears, but his hands were otherwise occupied being restrained. The woman’s voice was horrible, high pitched and nasal. It wasn’t like she had nice things to say either.

“BLOOD TRAITORS!” she roared. “FILTHY MUDBLOODS IN MY HOME. GET OUT!” She wailed. “OUT OF THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK!” Harry smiled, Sirius’ home. He was in Sirius’ home. That wasn’t so bad, especially since Sirius owned the deeds to the place again, and knew its Secret. If the others could figure out where he was, then they would be able to get to him; Dumbledore was stupid for hiding him here. But, Albus didn’t know Sirius knew the Secret of number 12 Grimmauld Place. “MUDBLOODS AND BLOOD TRAITORS DEFILING THE HOME OF MY FATHERS. DISGUSTING HALF BREEDS!” She kept wailing and Harry almost smiled at the thought of who was being abused. He was sure he didn’t like them, especially if they were helping Dumbledore tie him down. “MUDBLOOD!!” She wailed. Harry heard someone else speak and then the shouting stopped.

Downstairs, Hermione Granger smiled proudly as she magiked Mrs. Black’s curtain closed. Dumbledore had been telling them about the Horcruxes, and about how he was close to destroying them once and for all, when suddenly the door had opened and Dung Fletcher had appeared. Late. She had arrived, along with the Weasleys, the moment the Express had arrived at Kings Cross. They had all flooed over from the Magical side of the train station.

Hermione was a little upset that she hadn’t seen Harry, so she couldn’t say goodbye to him. But she would see him next term, and if they were all lucky, the war would be over by then. She wasn’t sure whom she wanted to win. She supported Dumbledore because he sided with her kind, Mudbloods, and Muggles. But Voldemort was taking care of Harry, and Tom Riddle lived in her friend’s head. She sighed, who ever won, won, and that was all there was too it, and she’d have to learn to live with the outcome.

“As I was saying,” Albus said with a smile. “Anyone who used to sleep on the second floor will have to move elsewhere. The second floor is off limits for the time being; it is where I intend to perform the ritual. If anyone is on the floor, the magic of the ritual could pick up your magical signature and draw off of your energy.” He said it all as if he were really concerned for their safety. The magic wouldn’t use anyone other than the sacrifice, and Albus knew it. He just didn’t want to run the risk of them finding Harry Potter tied to a bed.

“If that is all,” no one said anything to the contrary, “then you may all go.” Everyone left Grimmauld Place in his or her own parties, and Hermione sighed. As she walked to the fireplace, she looked at the staircase, wondering why the second floor? Why not the dungeon or the third, forth or first floor? It was, though she didn’t know it, because all of the rooms on the second floor were windowless and Dumbledore didn’t want Harry guessing where he was.

“Goodbye Headmaster,” she said with a soft smile. Stepping into the fireplace, she frowned, as Albus began to make his way up the stairs. She was sure he would keep going up the next flight, but he didn’t. As the flames sprung up and whisked her away, she was able to catch a glimpse off him walking calmly down the corridor on the second floor. She really wanted to know what he was hiding up there.

XXX

December 23rd 1995.

Harry had been tied to that bed for three days and while a house elf reluctantly brought him food and water, and banished his waste, he hadn’t been untied. Nor had an actual person stepped foot in the room.

He was sure his friends were looking for him, why wouldn’t they be?

Downstairs, Minerva had flooed over. Marvolo Hayes had owled her a total of eighty times in the past three days, demanding to meet with Dumbledore, and insisting she share the location of his son with him. Marvolo was convinced the boy had been kidnapped, despite Minerva’s protests otherwise. She had finally grown tired of being bombarded like this. Despite Albus telling her not to, she had arrived at Grimmauld Place.

“I demand you do something,” she said thrusting the bag filled with parchment to him. “It has been incessant. He is convinced you took his son.”

“I did,” Albus said plainly. “But it isn’t his son. It’s Harry Potter.” Minerva’s mouth dropped open.

She wasn’t sure if she was shocked, horrified or down right confused, but she managed to gather enough wits about herself to demand an explanation. So Albus explained. Unknown to either of them, Hermione had come down from the fourth floor, where she was staying over Christmas with the Weasleys and she heard every word. She had merely been unable to sleep, and had opted to go to the library, but having heard Minerva’s demands she couldn’t stop herself from listening.

Honestly, she thought, there are places more private to talk than the kitchen if they didn’t want others to hear.

She swallowed heavily. They knew who Dorian was? Quickly, but quietly and carefully, she made her way back up the first flight of stairs. She stopped at the landing, allowing herself to think that maybe this was all some sort of plan, orchestrated to catch a spy. So, with a deep breath, she began to open every door in the hallway, and the next. She wouldn’t tell anyone, not until she saw Harry for herself.

With a gasp, she found him. He was sleeping, but he looked unharmed. His wand was still on the bedside table and was snapped in half and that brought tears to her eyes. It had been such a beautiful wand, and to have it survive Azkaban only to be snapped later was horrible. She left the room quietly, without waking him, and made the last two flights of stairs before Albus even left the kitchen.

“I’ll help you Harry,” she told herself as she slipped into her bed. It was a twin room, but the other bed was empty. Ginny wasn’t there to share it with her anymore. That thought reinforced her other ones. No more children would die for this war, she swore, especially not someone who could help end it.

XXX

December 25th 1995.

Christmas day was a solemn one this year. It had been a week, and yet no one had any clue where Harry was. They had searched the school – Lucius pulling a few strings with his fellow Governors – they had Ministry raids on Dumbledore’s own home, with no success. Minerva still denied her boss kidnapped Harry, and Albus still wouldn’t speak with Voldemort.

“Doesn’t his Order have a headquarters?” Draco asked quietly, turning a finely wrapped box over in his hands. No one was particularly interested in opening their presents. All of Harry’s sat in a pile, untouched, and every now and then Sirius or Voldemort would look over at it and frown.

“Yes, but we don’t want him to know we know the location. It’s a last attempt kind of raid.” Sirius said with a half smile. “He’ll be fine.”

“Tom will look after him right?” Remus said softly, running his fingers over his face. The full moon was in a week and he was tired and grouchy. Worrying about Harry wasn’t helping his inner wolf any either.

“I doubt it,” Voldemort snarled. “If I can’t feel Tom, nor contact him, then I doubt Harry can either.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking suddenly defeated for a second before his mask was back on. “Harry’s alone in there.”

The fireplace sprung to life. The occupants of Malfoy Manor all had their wands out. Hermione Grangers face floated above the fire, and she looked very nervous. “I know where Harry is.” She said hurriedly. “Don’t worry, I’m at the Weasley twins’ shop, Dumbledore won’t hear about this conversation.” It was enough for Remus and Sirius to lower their wands.

“Speak girl.” Lucius drawled. His wife frowned, her hand squeezing his and silently asking him to put his wand away. So he did. “Please?” He added reluctantly.

“He is at the Order headquarters.” Draco looked smug all of a sudden; he kept shooting people ‘I-told-you-so’ looks. “He’s on the second floor, tied to a bed, in a warded room. His wand has been snapped, and Dumbledore is planning on using him to destroy all of the horcruxes.”

“You know about them?” Voldemort asked with a sneer.

“I over heard him telling Professor McGonagall why he had Harry. I don’t understand the ritual, I can’t even pronounce it and he didn’t explain it, but I’m sure it’s bad.” If they could see Hermione’s hands, it was likely she’d be wringing them. She was worried and nervous then.

“Minerva’s reaction,” Remus asked. “What was it like?”

“She paled a great deal, and crossed herself.”

“Dark Arts then.” Lucius decided. “I’ll search the library. You go and get Harry.” Voldemort and Sirius nodded, both ignoring the fact that Lucius seemed to be taking charge of their rescue mission. “Thank you Granger.”

“I’m helping Harry, not you.” She said curtly and disappeared from the fireplace.

In Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore smiled to himself as he made his way from one room on the second floor to another. He opened the door and smiled. Hermione had said the room was warded, and it was, against Harry. Anyone else could open the door and attempt to take Harry out, but he wouldn’t be able to pass the threshold unless Dumbledore was touching him.

“Hello my boy, it has been so long.” He smiled down at the young man who was straining forwards, trying to free his arms to he could strangle the elder Wizard. “I hope Kreacher has been taking care of you.”

He waved his own wand, and Harry was no longer tied to the bed. Instead the boy’s hands were tied together behind his back. Dumbledore grabbed the collar of his robe and pulled him forward. Harry lurched slightly. His legs were numb from lying down for five days straight, and he would have fallen, but Albus’ other hand wrapped around his waist. “There you go, my boy,” he said calmly, as if he wasn’t the cause of Harry’s pain.

He led Harry to the other room, the one he had been in earlier. The door closed behind them, and locked. Albus sat Harry down in the middle of the room. He was sitting so his butt rested on his feet, and his legs were bent under him. His arms were still tied behind him so his back was rather straight as well. He looked uncomfortable, and worried, but Albus just smiled slightly.

With another flick of his wand, five candles lit up. They were spread across the room, one in each corner and one floating in mid air directly between Harry and Dumbledore. Each of the candles was white, but as they burnt, something wet and red began to drip down the sides, like melting wax. Harry wondered if it was blood.

A pentagram had been drawn on the floor, and both Wizards were sitting inside of a large circle in the pentagrams center. A second circle was around the first and a Star of David joined both circles, the center of the star was beneath the floating candle. More diagrams had been drawn on the wall; in what Harry was convinced was blood. There were runes as well, but he hadn’t taken that class, so the only one he recognized was the one that meant ‘suffering’, because it was engraved on the front door of Azkaban. He trembled lightly, but he didn’t want to give Dumbledore the satisfaction of scaring him, so he forced himself to stay still.

“Please Tom, please.” He thought desperately. It didn’t matter how many times he had tried to contact Tom over the last god-knows-how-long-it-has-been it hadn’t worked. He was blocked off from his lover and he couldn’t help but be terrified.

He couldn’t even get in contact with Voldemort. He could tell the man was angry and worried, but words just wouldn’t form. He couldn’t communicate, and it felt like someone had cut out his tongue. He wasn’t used to not being able to speak to these two special people in his life, and it felt weird and wrong to him. He straightened his back and raised his chin defiantly, narrowing his eyes at Dumbledore.

The man had a knife in his left hand, and it looked rather deadly. Harry gulped. “The Order had gone to enjoy Christmas brunch in Diagon Alley, my treat, so no one will interrupt us.”

He smiled at Harry as the boy continued to glare at him. “Now, now, Tom, really.” Harry blinked in confusion. “Don’t be like that, you knew I couldn’t let you run off and join Voldemort. The thought of the two of you together is, well, not pleasant.”

Tom? Harry thought with a frown. His eyes widened as he remembered something Lucius had told him. Dumbledore thought Harry’s soul was destroyed. Albus thought he was Tom. He had blocked Tom’s connection with Voldemort. Harry considered telling him that he was Harry, but he doubted Albus would believe him, or care.

“Let’s begin, shall we.” It was about now, that Hermione fire called Malfoy Manor.

Albus began to chant, the majority of the spell was in Latin or Arabic, and Harry honestly didn’t know what was being said. But he heard ‘Tom’ spoken an awful lot and it gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. As Albus finished speaking he pulled the knife forward and cut the floating candle vertically down the center. It split into two parts, and that red liquid began to low forth, quicker and thicker. A puddle formed in the center of the pentagram, and began to flow outwards, along the lines of the Star of David. When the star was bright red and the floating candle had bled away until there was only two little burning stubs left, Albus drove the knife down into the floor directly between him and Harry.

Suddenly, Harry could hear screaming, and he knew it wasn’t his. A blinding white light lit up the room, and suddenly Tom was sitting beside him, in the same position, but his hands were pressed to his chest and he was panting harshly. “Harry?” He whispered. His hand reached out to caress his cheek softly, his eyes teared up. “You’re ok?” Harry sighed, a small sob working its way out of his throat. What ever Dumbledore had done obviously hadn’t worked, and now Tom was here, with him.

Dumbledore was watching in shock. That was not supposed to happen. Tom was not supposed to appear, not next to Harry. “Harry?” He said softly but neither boy heard him. Harry couldn’t be alive. It wasn’t possible.

Before he could speak again, the knife began to glow, and Tom let out a soft groan. Albus quickly grabbed the black bag and pulled out the horcruxes. Each one was placed at the tips of the star. Somehow he had even managed to kidnap and subdue Nagini. Nagini, the diadem, the locket, the ring, and the cup; he just had to destroy these items and Voldemort would be so easy to rid the world of. As the knife glowed, each of the items began to light up as well. Tom gave an agonized shout, and a white light sprung forth from his chest, much like how he had disappeared back into the journal after Harry had stabbed it.

Harry was screaming now as well. His forehead had begun to glow along with the other horcruxes and he wanted to scratch at it and to claw at the pain, but his hands were still tied up. He wanted to go to Tom, to hold him and kiss him, touch and cherish him, and to comfort him because Tom was screaming now as well.

Nagini exploded first. Blood and guts flew across the room, and Tom cried out again. Harry screamed in fear and pain as his forehead split open and his scar began to bleed furiously. When the pain passed, it was all he could do to stay conscious, but he had to. He wanted to. He needed to make sure Tom was ok.

He figured Tom wouldn’t die. Tom wasn’t the Horcrux, the journal had been; Tom was the soul. What Harry didn’t know, was that the ritual required the sacrifice of a soul. Dumbledore had chosen to sacrifice Tom’s soul. His green eyes met with Tom’s and the other boy let out a groan. He did try to smile at his boyfriend though. “Love you,” Tom whispered. “Goodbye,” as another Horcrux blew apart.

“NO!” Harry said, the truth finally dawning on him. “No, please.” He screamed again as the cup exploded and one handle flew at his face.

“I rather it was me, than you.” Tom choked out. He started to cough and blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. The light grew brighter as a fifth Horcrux was destroyed. “Love you always, Harry.”

“No, Tom, no please. Don’t die.” Harry whimpered as the last Horcrux blew up. Suddenly Tom gave an agonized shriek and the white light blinded everyone in the room. A large bang sounded and echoed through the room but Tom’s screaming stopped. When Harry opened his eyes Tom was gone, the horcruxes were all destroyed and a fine sprinkling of dust fluttered down from the ceiling and onto him.

“Ashes to ashes,” Dumbledore said solemnly as he stood up and brushed down his robes.

Someone was screaming again, and Harry thought it might be him, but he honestly didn’t care. He managed to lurch to his feet and he ran at Dumbledore, his shoulder slamming into the other man’s chest and knocking him to the floor. “I’ll kill you!” He shrieked as the screaming stopped again. He wanted to claw those twinkling blue eyes out of the man’s head but his hands were still tied up so he tried biting at Dumbledore’s face instead. He didn’t care how, but he had to hurt the man somehow.

Suddenly the door blew open and a handful of Death Eaters flew into the room. Dumbledore immediately disappeared with a ‘pop’, fleeing the opposing forces. He supposed he had better warn the Order that Voldemort knew about Grimmauld Place.

The moment he was gone, Harry collapsed to the floor and curled up in the fetal position. A sob welled from his throat and he cried, his face pressed to the floor. Someone tugged at the rope around his wrists and Harry’s hands were suddenly free. He moved his arms so they were wrapped around his chest, pressing against it, trying to keep his heart from falling out. He felt like he was dying.

“I can’t breath,” he whispered and Draco picked him up and rocked him lightly. “I feel like I can’t breath.”

Draco whispered comforting words as the Death Eaters watched them. Sirius, Voldemort, Lucius and the two male Lestrange brothers frowned at the sight. Harry looked unharmed so they weren’t sure what had been done to him. But then Lucius recognized the pentagram and the runes. “Tom,” he whispered in understanding and Harry screamed again.

“Take me away.” He said, his throat sore and dry, when he had finished screaming again.

“Malfoy Manor?” Harry tensed. “Heaven’s Haze?” He asked, referring to Marvolo’s home.

“Somewhere I never went with Tom.” Harry said back quietly. He was slumped in Draco’s arms, and the blond looked as distraught as Harry felt. Draco closed his eyes, held tightly to Harry and apparated them to Riddle Manor. He wasn’t old enough to apparate legally, but Lucius made sure he learnt just in case. The moment they arrived, Draco let Harry go and he curled up on the floor again. Draco lay down behind him, and just held him, listening to him cry.

He cried all night, moaning Tom’s name desperately after he had fallen asleep, and Draco kissed his hair and rubbed his back and whispered that everything would be all right, even though they both knew it wouldn’t be. When Harry woke the next morning, he tried to speak with Tom, forgetting about the night before. When Tom didn’t answer, he remembered.

And when he remembered, he screamed.

XXX

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Well, bare in mind the main pairing is Voldemort/Harry, not Tom. Sorry to those who hate me, but you should have seen something like this coming. Please review, even if you hate me now.

IMPORTANT A/N: I’m going away for two weeks, so I was trying to get this out before I left, which was hard cause I really hate killing off my favourite characters. And now you’re all going to have to wait till I come back from Venice to find out what happens next. To make it up to you, I will say in the next chapter Dorian drops out of Hogwarts, and Voldemort finally admits he loves Harry, to Harry. And! And I’m begging you all to suggest ways to kill Dumbledore – I’ve already used all my good ideas. I’ve burnt him at the stake, had him eaten by werewolves, etc. Give me something good.

Also, just did a new one shot, I think you should go check it out please, it’s called JAKOSTA.