Indelible

Hey all. Thanks for sticking with me so far; I would also like to thank those who reviewed! I rather hope to reach 400 reviews by the time I finish INDELIBLE, at chapter 19, but I doubt it’ll happen. Though, we’ll see.

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Words: 4,644
Chapter 16
Friend Or Foe
February 14th 1996.

It had been almost two weeks since Fenrir had attempted to talk some sense into Harry. The werewolves had been at Malfoy Manor for the same length of time. Harry spent most of his free time sitting outside in the gardens, his back against that tree trunk, with Fenrir sitting on the other side of the tree. They didn’t always talk, and sometimes Fenrir couldn’t make it because he had a meeting, but Harry always felt better after the hour spent with the werewolf.

The only werewolf he had ever known had been Remus, and he hadn’t even known Remus that long. Remus may have been his godfather’s mate, but he wasn’t that close to the man. Sure he and Draco had chosen Remus to live with them at Hogwarts for their 5th year, for the short few months he was there, but he didn’t know Remus as well as he would have liked. Harry had always thought that werewolves, if they existed, would be cruel temperamental creatures, full of anger and hatred. But Fenrir was surprisingly nice.

Harry had watched Fenrir eat someone alive the week before. It had been a week after the full moon, and Fenrir was completely human in appearance. Somehow, Harry hadn’t even known it was possible, somehow Fenrir had made his teeth and claw elongate, and he had gorged himself on the traitor.

Most of the other werewolves enjoyed the spectacle; some turned away out of hunger or jealousy, and only Remus was disgusted. Sirius and the Death Eaters tried not to wince, less Voldemort notice their discomfort. Voldemort and Bellatrix seemed to enjoy the man’s death; they had smirked and laughed as Fenrir ate. Harry wasn’t bothered either way. He didn’t look away from the death, but he didn’t pay that much attention to it either, instead he watched Fenrir. It was the only meeting Harry had gone to and it was only because Sirius begged him to go see what Greyback was really like.

Fenrir had looked elated. Harry sighed, and leant back against the tree, his knees pressed against his chest and he smiled before burying his head in his arms. He remembered that Fenrir had smiled at him, before going back to his meal, and Harry remembered being happy for Fenrir. It had been quite a while since Harry had seen someone truly that happy.

“Hello Pup,” Fenrir whispered as he sat down on the ground. His back was pressed to the trunk of the tree, closer to Harry then he usually sat. “Why do you weep?” He could smell the salt of the boy’s tears, and it worried him.

Fenrir had bitten Remus, and despite the fact that they hated and were ashamed of each other they were still pack, and Remus considered this boy his cub. It was hard for Fenrir to ignore the distress of a member of his pack: especially a pack mate he had grown fond of over the last fortnight.

Harry wasn’t stupid. He understood that he hardly knew Fenrir, no more than he knew Remus, but he still felt safe. Sirius thought he was an idiot, but Remus had tried to explain about Harry being considered pack. Harry really hadn’t been in the mood to listen though, so he really hadn’t taken much in, and Remus just settled for making Harry promise not to be alone with Fenrir on the full moon. Fenrir had later explained about packs and how Harry was a part of his. The other werewolves would protect him as he was considered a cub of their Alpha, but they wouldn’t go out of their way to socialize with him because he wasn’t a werewolf.

It made sense to Harry; if he wanted to dwell on it he’d even say he understood where they were coming from. It was a bit like Purebloods really. They tolerated half-bloods because of their pureblood parent, but pretended not to know the Muggle parent existed even if they were standing side by side.

Harry’s hand clenched around the card. It was a white Muggle thing, with hearts and flowers painted over the front above a passage in fancy black text, and a plain white back. It was folded in half but Fenrir couldn’t see the inside. Harry handed it to him and he read it out loud.

“Roses are pretty but violets are corny. And thinking about you makes me feel,” he opened the card up and cracked a small smile. “Nice. Happy valentines, brother. I miss you. Love, Draco.”

Harry let out a soft sob, and holds his hand out. Fenrir hands the card back to him with a frown but didn’t say anything.

“Why does this make you weep?” He asked after a few minutes of silence when Harry had managed to compose himself.

“It’s just something stupid. Don’t worry about it Fenrir.” He stood up and brushed down his trousers. He had grass stains on the arse of his pale blue jeans, but he didn’t care all that much. Fenrir laughed deeply and reached out to swat him on the backside, trying to brush off the pieces of grass that clung to the fabric. Harry gave an ‘eap’ and jumped out of reach. It made Fenrir laugh harder.

Voldemort watched them from the entrance to the gardens and frowned. He knew Fenrir wouldn’t make a move to mate with anyone who wasn’t a wolf, and certainly not with a cub of his pack. Harry was safe from Fenrir’s advances, but that didn’t mean Voldemort was happy that someone else was touching his Harry, or being confided in by his Harry, while he was ignored.

Harry had been having less and less nightmares as the past two weeks progressed, but Voldemort still let himself into Harry’s room and made sure to comfort the child when needed. Harry still took comfort in the man’s presence, but he had stopped calling him Tom. Now he merely addressed him as Amnon, which meant ‘faithful’. Voldemort had taken the bull by the horns one night and asked Harry why he had chosen that name, but Harry had merely smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Voldemort’s jaw before lying back down and going to sleep.

Voldemort moved out of the way as Harry entered Malfoy Manor. “Hey Amnon,” he said softly and gave Voldemort a soft smile.

“What’s that?” He took the card from Harry. “A valentines? From Draco.” Harry opened his mouth to answer, but instead of words, a choking sob came out. He collapsed forward and Voldemort dropped the card and reached out to catch Harry before he hit the floor. “What’s the matter?”

They sat together on the floor, Harry half in Voldemort’s lap after being caught, and Voldemort rocked him lightly as he cried.

“No one loves me.” He was crying so hard Voldemort actually needed a few minutes to work out what had been said.

“Draco loves you, he said as much.”

“But as a brother.” Harry gave a hiccup, before taking several deep breaths. “He doesn’t love me like Tom did.” Voldemort’s entire body stiffened as Harry spoke. “Tom died because he loved me, and my parents died because they love me, and Draco’ll probably die too, and then no one will love me and I’ll be all alone. And Sirius loves me, but he’ll love his mate more, and Remus doesn’t love me because I like Fenrir, but Fenrir doesn’t love me either and I’ll be all alone.” He dissolved into harsh cries again. His framed was wracked with sobs, trembling and shaking as he had trouble breathing through his tears.

“I love you.” Voldemort said suddenly. His voice was louder than he had expected it to be, and the silence after his words was even louder still. Harry stopped crying, blinked and wiped his tears away. He stared at Voldemort, his mouth half open, and Voldemort stared back stone faced.

“What?”

“I said I love you. I love you as Tom loved you, and he knew it. I don’t love you because Tom was once a part of me, Harry; I love you because you are you. You are kind, and loving, and funny, smart, brave and sweet, and caring, trusting and absolutely delectable.” He raised one hand and brushed Harry’s fringe away from the boy’s forehead. Voldemort pressed a kiss to the scar and smiled sadly. “I have loved you longer than I have known I loved you, and I will likely love you always, and you are the only person I have ever loved. I will love you when you’re older, or taller; when you cry less, if you cry more; I will love you if you hate me, or when I hate you; I will love you even if you never love me back. So don’t you dare believe no one loves you Harry. We all love you very much, just in different ways.” He pushed Harry off of his lap and stood up.

Harry remained sitting on the floor. He reached out to grab the valentine’s card and he sniffled lightly.

“I’m not Tom, Harry. I am Lord Voldemort, I am a completely different person than the part of my soul you knew and loved. And I apologize for not being who you need me to be, but I’m not him. But I still love you.” He leant down to catch Harry’s lips in a soft kiss. “And I always will.” He walked away then, and Harry was too shocked to do anything other than stare after him.

Voldemort probably would have been outraged to know that Fenrir had heard and watched the entire exchange. The werewolf said nothing; he walked to Harry and helped the boy to his feet.

“I love you too, my cub,” he whispered as he led the child to his rooms. Once Harry was tucked into bed, Fenrir propped the card up on the bedside table, and left a note reminding Harry to write and thank Draco, before he left.

XXX

February 21st 1996.

Harry spent a lot of the next week avoiding Voldemort. If he saw Voldemort in the hallways he never did anything as hurtful as turn and walk the other way. Instead he quietly said “hello Amnon” and started walking faster. He didn’t actively seek Voldemort out, not that he did that much since Tom died anyway, and he no longer allowed Voldemort to come into his room at night.

Voldemort accepted Harry’s actions as the risk he paid for telling Harry his feelings. He wasn’t happy that he had frightened Harry away, but he was glad to have shared how he felt. It was like a weight had lifted off of his chest and he could breath probably after months of being labored. A pain – one of longing and hope – he hadn’t noticed he had was finally gone, but it was replaced by the stinging pain of rejection and loss.

Fortunately Voldemort’s confession had the result of stopping Harry’s nightmares. The brunette no longer dreamed of Tom’s death or Dumbledore’s part in it. Macbeth-style ghosts and the manifestations of his own guilt had ceased to haunt him. This past week had given Harry the best nights sleep than any of the other weeks this year. He had Voldemort’s confession to thank for it.

Voldemort loved him.

And that caused a whole new set of problems.

Someone loved him; someone still loved him after he had caused the death of Tom and so many others. So he obviously wasn’t unloveable, nor was he despise-able. He couldn’t be completely guilty or Voldemort would hate him for destroying the Horcruxes. But Voldemort loved him. Him, Harry Potter. He knew he loved Tom, but did he love Voldemort as well? Could he love both of them? If he didn’t love Voldemort would he be strong enough to break someone else’s heart? If he couldn’t, would he be cruel enough to lie about loving Voldemort so he wouldn’t break the man’s heart?

Thinking made Harry’s head hurt. In the end, Harry had decided to draw up a list. There were two columns, and the headings were: ‘similarities’ and ‘differences’.

Under the ‘similarities’ heading Harry had wrote: share the same soul; love me; Dark Lord; hates Mudbloods and blood traitors; likes to wear black; was in Slytherin; cause Voldemort’s temporary defeat and Tom’s death.

In the ‘differences’ column, there was: Voldemort is older; Tom died; Tom wasn’t ever really a person; Voldemort has Death Eaters; Voldemort has tried to kill me; Voldemort killed my parents; Tom killed Ginny and got me sent to Azkaban; Tom stayed with me in Azkaban; Voldemort got me out of Azkaban; Voldemort takes care of me even though I kept calling him Tom; Amnon has remained faithful; Amnon will love me because he isn’t dead; Amnon thinks I don’t love him; Tom knew I loved him; Amnon can make more Horcruxes so he won’t ever have to leave me; Thinking about Tom makes me sad; Amnon can make me happy.

The list didn’t contain the finer points of either man but it helped Harry understand that they weren’t the same person. They were similar, yes, but they were infinitely different at the same time. Maybe he still didn’t love Voldemort, but Harry knew he wouldn’t keep pretending that Voldemort and Tom were one in the same. If he was going to take comfort from Voldemort, then he would no longer pretend that it was Tom. He wouldn’t wish for Tom anymore. Fenrir had been right: Tom was gone and he would never come back. He had to move on.

Harry took a deep breath and set down the list. “Tempus,” he whispered.

02:54am.

Harry smiled to himself, hoping that it wasn’t too late for what he had in mind. He climbed out of his bed, put away his quill and ink well and made for the door. He silently padded down the corridor to Voldemort’s room. Tom found it rather strange that Voldemort would want them on the same floor as himself, when there were many empty rooms in Malfoy Manor further away, where Voldemort wouldn’t have to listen to them have sex. Harry winced as he thought about how much it would have bothered Voldemort to remain close to Harry – to someone in love with someone else.

He knocked on Voldemort’s door, but there was no answer. So he turned the handle, and the door opened. The wards sensed that he wasn’t a threat and let Harry through. Voldemort’s eyes slowly opened as the bed dipped in front of him. He met Harry’s emerald orbs as the boy carefully wormed his way between Voldemort’s arms, so they were pressed chest to chest. Voldemort allowed his eyes to flutter closed again, a soft sigh escaping his lips. This was the first time Harry had ever come to him.

“Goodnight Voldemort.” Harry whispered, his arms wrapping around Voldemort’s neck and shoulders. Voldemort allowed a soft smile.

That was the first time Harry had addressed him by his true name in the dark.

XXX

March 2nd 1996.

Rubeus Hagrid was an easily recognizable fellow. He was well above four-heads taller than anyone else he knew, and he had quite a lot more facial hair – except for Dumbledore, of course. The man’s mother had been a giantess, and when he was only twelve he had been able to lift his Muggle father with one hand and place him on top of the dresser. The fact that his father was a Muggle and his mother a giant made Hagrid a Mudblood, and it made him an outcast. He had got on famously well with Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but she eventually had to go back to her own school.

That was why he had been happy enough to take Dumbledore’s assignment with smiles and thanks, while the others had shifted in their chairs uneasily. He was being given the opportunity to meet some of his own kind, others like him. He felt it was a blessing, and he gratefully thanked Albus for the chance.

The Order was now meeting at one of Dumbledore’s ancestral homes. His father, of course, being a Pureblood, meant he had many homes to inherit but never use.

The giant’s colony, in the German Black Forest, wasn’t a place many would go willingly. A few tourists and backpackers stumbled upon the colony by accident on occasion, but they never went back to tell anyone what they saw. Mainly, because they never went back.

When Hagrid arrived, two male giants were having a wrestling match of sorts. Hagrid had never really realized how much smaller he was as a half-blood, his mother had left when he was too young to remember her. He suddenly realized now. The two wrestling were almost as tall as some of the towers at Hogwarts. It was a terrifying sight. One giant picked the other clean off the floor and threw him at a tree. The tree buckled, and folded to the ground under the giant’s weight. The female giantess, standing at the sidelines, suddenly through herself at the winner, and the two of them disappeared into the tree line.

Hagrid waited until the loser had gone away to lick his wounds before he cleared his throat. “‘Eh, hello all. Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry asked me to ask ye lot whether ye’d want to fight against You-Know-Who?”

One of the giants had to carry Hagrid back to the nearest apparition point after they had finished giving him their answer. It took several hours for Hagrid to regain consciousness, and then several potions and healing spells before he could walk around unaided. The giants had given Dumbledore a definite ‘no’! Rudolphus Lestrange made his way home soon after Hagrid woke up and left.

XXX

March 2nd 1996. Same time.

Severus Snape was a man happy enough to straddle both sides of the fence. He was neither truly light, nor was he completely dark. At first he had been pressured into joining the Death Eaters, until he had realized what opportunities it presented to him. If he were to become a Death Eater he would no longer have reason to fear his father; Voldemort had many raids on people his followers disliked, so long as they were expandable. His father was a Muggle, a useless as they came. He also realized that it might mean he could protect Lily. His beautiful, delightful Lily Evans. When she had married James Potter he had been distraught, but he had known it was coming and he was even gladder to have joined Voldemort’s forces because it meant that Lily would need twice the protection as before, because now she was a Potter as well as a Mudblood.

When Voldemort had killed the person Severus had begged him to spare he had been outraged. He had shared the half-heard prophecy with Voldemort in the hopes of gaining more favor with the Dark Lord, to better protect Lily, but ultimately it had led to Voldemort hunting down the child of the woman he loved.

After Lily’s death he had sworn to protect Harry, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care for the boy. The child had caused Lily’s death as far as he was concerned, but mostly he had hated the boy because of his striking resemblance to James Potter.

But that was the same boy who had wormed his way beneath Draco’s cool façade, the same boy that Lucius Malfoy had been so desperate to free from Azkaban, the same boy – Lily’s boy – that had been kidnapped and subjected to a agonizing Dark ritual by Dumbledore in the name of stopping Voldemort. In light of that, defeating Voldemort didn’t seem so important any more.

However Severus was neither foolish enough, nor simply inclined, to come out and say that to Dumbledore’s face. So here he was somewhere in the bloody Alps, surrounded by vampires as their Prince and leader took his god-forsaken time getting to the clearing Severus had been captured in. His arms were pinned behind his back by two pure-vampires, while his wand was being twirled by an upstart of a turned-vampire who Severus was sure used to be in his Hufflepuff potions class a few years back. He was being pressed uncomfortably against a tree while he was searched for weapons. All in the aid of defeating Voldemort.

A tall vampire with snow-white hair and garnet colored eyes walked into the clearing, followed by four other pure-vampires. He was so pale that the blues of his veins were easy enough to trace. Despite the coloring of his hair he only looked twenty-five or so. The albino smiled, baring his eyeteeth as his eyes raked over Severus’ form.

“Who have ve here?” He drawled, his accent eastern European.

A fifth figure entered the clearing, and Severus was able to recognize him by his white-blond hair.

“Ah, Lucius,” he gasped as the vampire holding his arm, twisted it. “I see I am no longer needed here. If you’ll excuse me.” He tried to push away from the tree but the vampires didn’t let him budge.

“If you don’t mind.” Lucius drawled. The Prince waved his hand and the vampires backed away from Severus. The dark haired man rubbed his sore arms before holding his hand out for his wand. He nodded at Severus and the vampire Prince. As he was about to apparate away, Lucius spoke. “You’ll have to take sides soon Severus.”

“I already have, my friend.” He disappeared with a pop, not having told Lucius whose side he had chosen exactly.

XXX

March 3rd 1996.

The vampires had needed a full day to travel to Malfoy Manor. They could hardly apparate in one trip, as it was too tiring, and they needed a license for long distance Portkeys. Having so many of them leave at once, to the same destination, would raise so many questions, so instead they ran through various cities within one country, before resting, and apparating over the boarder to avoid immigration control, and running from that boarder to the next. Vampire could run very fast, without tiring, unlike apparation. They could learn it, but it came easier to turned vampires than to the purebloods, as most turned vampires had been witch or wizard at one point. They were able to run through each country in about four hours.

When they arrived at Malfoy Manor, they immediately searched out Lord Voldemort. Lucius had arrived home ahead of them, and had the house elves prepare the dungeons and the lower level of the Manor for the vampire guests.

As they filtered out of the ballroom, many of them were drawn to the gardens. The sun was high in the sky, so the turned vampires retreated to the dungeons, but the purebloods were neither exhausted nor burnt by the suns rays. The Prince led them towards a stone bench that sat before a large lake. The center of the lake was actually a small island of land, upon which grew a single Whomping Willow. Around the island, swans and tropical fish swam. The occasional albino peacock fluttered to the edge of the water, wetting its feathers, before retreating back to dry land.

The vampires watched silently for a moment, before one took a deep breath and let out a growl. “Werewolf,” he snarled, eyes narrowed.

The others starting breathing deeply, looking around frantically. Only the Prince remained watching the lake and island. On the island, a boy of about fourteen or fifteen watched them expressionlessly as they ran around the bench, sniffing at it and hissing to themselves. The Prince raised a hand in greeting. Harry nodded once, and stepped back, once again hidden by the swaying branches of the Whomping Willow.

“Strange that it has not attacked him,” the vampire muttered.

“Attacked who?” A tall, dark haired man asked. He sat down on the bench and the other vampires shifted away from him, sniffing the air around him. “Who are you all and why are you sniffing my bench?”

“Who are you?” One of the others asked.

“Sirius Black, sometimes Sirius Grey, but never Sirius White!” He grinned. He held his hand out.

“I am Alvis Yacob, Prince of the Vladislav vampires.” The albino reached out to shake Sirius’ outstretched hand, but another vampire slapped the Wizards hand away.

He hissed, “werewolf!”

“I’m not a werewolf,” he said. He sat calmly in front of the vampires, not even reaching for his wand. “I’m a werewolf’s mate.” He said it proudly, but the vampires obviously thought very poorly of the idea as they all started hissing and snarling again.

“I’m a werewolf!” Remus said, coming up behind his mate and leaning protectively over Sirius. “Got a problem with that?”

“So what if we do?” A vampire by the name of Danek snarled.

“Silence,” Alvis commanded, but more werewolves had appeared and they weren’t inclined to listen to the orders of a blood-sucking leech. Instead, Fenrir’s beta launched himself at the vampire who had slapped Sirius’ hand away earlier. They all eventually took part in the fisticuffs with the exception of Remus, Sirius and Alvis. Fenrir was absent when the fight started. He arrived ten minutes into the brawl, and neither he nor Alvis could get their clan/pack to stop fighting. Each side feared that if they stopped, the other side would take advantage and kill them.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” A voice roared. Everyone froze and looked up. Voldemort, Lucius, and a few others stood beside Fenrir and Alvis, but none of them had been the one to speak. They looked in the other direction. Floating himself towards them from the island in the middle of the lake was Harry Potter, and he looked pissed. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

“I only came here to think, like I always do, and they-” Sirius let himself trail off as Harry’s glare fixed itself on him. He gulped and backed away slightly. Each person flinched as Harry’s gaze met theirs, except Voldemort.

“Did none of you think to stop them?” The Death Eaters and the pack leaders remained silent, lowering their eyes to the ground. “Are you all stupid?” He asked those who had been fighting. “Do you all want to die, is that it?”

They all frantically shook their heads. They separated themselves out, so werewolves were standing with werewolves, and the vampires only stood beside other vampires. Alvis moved to stand before his clan, while Fenrir paced in front of his pack.

“You’re doing it even now,” Harry said sadly, though he was still angry. “Fighting amongst yourselves, segregating yourselves. It’s pathetic and petty. And it will get you killed. You are allies. You all allied yourselves to Lord Voldemort and agreed to fight against Albus Dumbledore with Lord Voldemort. That means you must fight with each other not against each other. What do you think will happen if you’re caught between a team full of Aurors, all working in sync, and the only person you have to help you won’t because you spent the last god knows how long trying to kill him for being different to you? You’ll die! That’s what. You should stop being foes, and start at least trying to be friends.” He spared them all one last glare.

“Fuck sake,” he snarled, and turned to walk away. “Stupid, fucking idiots.” He muttered as he left them all there, staring after him.

“Well, he’s certainly feeling more like his old self.” Sirius mused out loud. Voldemort met his eyes and smirked. Yes, Harry was undoubtedly gaining his bite back, and Voldemort could have been prouder of him than he was right then.

Harry was going to be just fine.

XXX

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I hope you enjoyed. See, Harry couldn’t possibly be depressed forever. He’s practically his old, temperamental self again.