Featherlight Taction
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Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Voldemort
Rating:
Adult ++
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Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Voldemort
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
8,405
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Pursuit
A/N: The way I wrote this chapter is a lot different from the other chapters. A LOT happens in this chappie and it was so action-packed that it ended up coming out with a very different view of time and scenes. I like how it turned out. I hope you do too! After all, so much happens!!!
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Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you, for you
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
As years go by
I race the clock with you
But if you died right now
You know that I'd die to
I'd die too
You remind me of the times
When I knew who I was
But still the second hand will catch us
Like it always does.
Well make the same mistakes
I'll Take the fall for you
I hope you need this now
cuz I know I still do.
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
Should I bite my tongue
Until blood soaks my shirt?
We'll never fall apart
so Tell me why this hurts so much
My hands are at your throat
And I think I hate you
But still we'll say, "remember when"
Just like we always do, just like we always do
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
Yeah I'd spill my heart
Yeah I'd spill my heart, for you
My hands are at your throat
And I think I hate you
We made the same mistakes
mistakes like friends do,
my hands are at your throat
and I think I hate you
we made the same mistakes.
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you, for you
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you, for you
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
Until the day I die
Until the day I die
-Story of the Year – Until the Day I Die
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Featherlight Taction
Chapter 16- Pursuit
The wind swept over the hills, blowing the fog in dancing circles of cold in the early morning. The dead trees swayed and creaked ominously around the mansion, a building that looked as abandoned as the forest around it. No animals dared make the forest here their home, for it bore no food or shelter anyway, and the sky was a deadly white, a warning of the snow to come.
The land was lifeless, except for one man. He was hooded and cloaked, and his thin, tall body walked briskly towards the dark mansion. Even as his hands were safe in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched together from the cold, he bore a sheer elegance and powerful grace that showed both knowledge and arrogance.
He stalked up to the abandoned home and glanced for a moment at the ajar door, his red eyes scanning the hall beyond it.
It was now devoid of the body that had been there the last time he had ventured to this place. For this, he was grateful. He had no desire to see the dead at the moment.
Stepping past the threshold, Lord Voldemort pulled back his hood and narrowed his eyes at the dankness of the place. This was worse than his manor. It was so desolate, and he chuckled at the thought that only a Lestrange would deem this place livable.
He had chosen to come alone to retrieve his horcrux for a very good reason. Though it would be difficult to move it, seeing as he could not be near it without severe physical pain, it was more beneficial to him to not let anyone know of its movement. He’d recently had a suspicion of a rat within his ranks, and he wasn’t referring to Wormtail when he thought this.
Therefore, it would be wiser if only he knew the horcrux’s location this time.
It would just be a bit more tiring, that’s all.
For the next twenty minutes, he found himself scouring the house; wandering in and out of its many empty rooms and growing more and more irritated by the moment. Suddenly, as he reached the end of the East wing, he felt his chest constrict uncomfortably and his heart rate began to increase. It was near.
His pace hurried, he continued as the tenseness grew. Soon, it was difficult for him to breath and small trickled of sweat made their way down his forehead. He had to find it quickly. This must be done in an expedient matter or the consequences would be most severe.
As he reached the last room in the hall, he knew that the cup was close. He entered the room, ignoring the surroundings and coming right up to an antique chest. It was covered in dust and seemingly untouched. The only thing strange about it was the lock, which was a polished gold. It had no keyhole or even, apparently a way to open it, and Tom withdrew his wand.
He tried the basic spells first, but they were of no use. At least Bellatrix had been the least bit more competent than he had guessed. His heart began to race more harshly and he dropped to his knees, whispering a tedious incantation as he pressed the tip of his wand to the metal. Within seconds, the lock dissolved away in a cloud of glittering golden sparks.
With a flick of his wand, the lid flew open. His eyes narrowed to avoid the flying dust, and his heart slowed minutely from mere relief. There, within the middle of the large chest, sat Hufflepuff’s cup.
Instead of picking it up, he cast a hovering charm and walked, much more slowly, out of the room. The cup followed silently behind his limping steps as his vision began to blur and he lost a certain sense of balance. His head was pounding as he reached the grounds and head for the anti-apparition wards. Halfway across the mile to reach the end of the wards, he felt his magic slip and heard the cup clang to the dirt.
For a moment, the Dark Lord just stood there, as if he could not believe that he, of all people, could no longer cast a valid levitation spell. Painfully, he turned around as gazed with wide eyes at the offending object.
Realizing his only option, his set his thoroughly whitened face into a furious scowl.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he hissed, dragging his feet over to the fallen horcrux. With a grimace, he leaned over and grasped the slim handle of the cup, picking it up with what seemed to be extreme difficulty.
He ignored the searing heat that engulfed his hand and forced his remaining strength into walking as he reached the end of the wards.
Finally, with his last bit of saved magic, the Dark Lord disapparated back to his manor and launched himself into a dark, dungeon-like room at a far end of his manor. Casting the cup into a dark, metal closet, he slammed the door shut and muttered one final incantation, sealing the door shut.
Then, he collapsed to the floor.
Perhaps it wasn’t the most brilliant idea to do that alone.
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Ginny and Neville were sitting together in the Great Hall, along with Luna, Dean, Seamus, Cho, and numerous other DA members. They knew it was a bit silly to gather together in such a public area, but if they were questioned, they could just say that they were debating the next Quidditch match.
Not that anyone would actually believe that…
Neville leaned over to Ginny and the rest of the group leaned in as well to hear what he was whispering. It was quite a spectacle to see, honestly—twenty or so students all leaning in at a small section of the Gryffindor table. It was like a muggle football huddle.
“So how are we going to find them?” Neville asked, staring at Ginny disbelievingly. “You said that your mum wrote you and told you that they weren’t at the Order place anymore…”
Ginny exchanged looks with Luna and blushed when she noticed twenty separate pairs of eyes on her. “I think Hermione still has her coin from way back when,” Ginny said quietly. “You know, these.” She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a fake galleon. It was the method of communication that Dumbledore’s Arm had used since fifth year. “I’m going to try to contact her through it. Hopefully she’ll see and we’ll find out where they are, but I don’t know.”
“What if she doesn’t have a coin?” Seamus inquired from across the table. “There’s no guarantee she even has it anymore.”
“I know that,” Ginny replied agitatedly. It was rather tiresome being looked to like the leader of the whole thing. It’s not like she had wanted to be the one who figured everything out. “If that doesn’t work, then…” she blushed crimson and muttered the last bit in a rush of breath. “IdunnothecoinwasallIcouldthinkof.”
Her peers stared at her in shock. “That’s all you could come up with?!” Lavender exclaimed, throwing her hands to her face in over-dramatized horror.
“Well I’m not some super… person!” Ginny retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. “I don’t see why I have to come up with the whole bloody plan!”
Neville gulped and tentatively placed a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “Well, listen, guys,” he said softly, beginning to sweat when all eyes were turned to him. “I think the coin is a good idea. We’ll try that tonight, ok? In the meantime, let’s all of us try to think of some other ways we could possibly find them. Everyone try and think of something by our meeting tonight. Don’t worry, we’ll find them. I know it.”
The teens seemed satisfied with this encouragement and they muttered to each other in agreement, nodding back and forth. One by one, they said their goodbyes to the Gryffindors and, strangely, Luna as they walked back to their own tables.
Ginny and Neville turned to Luna and looked at her strangely.
She smiled happily back at them and reached across the table to grab some toast, spreading some strawberry jam over it with a dazed look.
“Um…. Luna?” Neville asked.
“Hm?” she asked, taking a bite out of her toast and looking utterly giddy.
“Aren’t you going to go back to the Ravenclaw table?” the boy asked sheepishly.
“Why in the world would I do that?” the blonde inquired curiously, peering over at the mousy teen.
“Uh, well, that is, no reason! Of course! Yes!” Neville stuttered, turning to his plate quickly. Ginny was now eyeing him with the same bemused look as she had regarded Luna with, scooting away from him a bit.
Luna shrugged him off and turned back to her toast, humming as she did so.
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Harry was in his room, staring solemnly out of the frost-nipped window into the snow-covered forest, elbows propped up on the windowsill and palms supporting his tired head. His pink lips were pressed into a thin line and his exhales of breath were sharp and forced. His glasses had been set aside on the sill, seeing as they only steamed up when he breathed so close to the window. The fingers on his right hand flexed and he blinked.
They were about to go to the Malfoys’ house once more, and, somehow, he found himself worrying more about whether or not Voldemort would be there than if they would find the horcrux they sought.
He sighed, fogging over the window in front of his face until he could only see vague distortions of the white trees outside. Pushing himself away from the window, he grabbed his glasses and started out towards the dining room.
Ron thought that Voldemort’s being at the Malfoy manor had only been a coincidence. Harry was fairly certain he was right, but he still had that nagging feeling at the end of his gut. Problem was, he couldn’t exactly identify what that feeling was.
Putting his glasses back on and turning around the hall corner, he let his eyes focus on the pair that were sitting at the wood table.
“Oh come on, ‘Mione!” Ron groaned, “We’ve gone over this a thousand times!”
Said witch stuck her hands on her hips indignantly and gave Ron an annoyed look. “Well this is very serious! If you could just remember it all-“
“I remember it just fine!” Ron snapped, looking offended. “I’m not a bloody toddler.”
Hermione threw her hands up in the air and let out a growl. Ron shrunk back in his seat.
“Hermione,” Harry said from across the room. The two looked up. They hadn’t known he was there. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We’ve planned thoroughly this time. It won’t go wrong.”
Hermione slouched, but said nothing. After a moment of contemplative silence, the three stood and picked up their things, walking outside into the snow.
“We’ll apparate into the forest beside the manor,” Hermione said, staring into the trees as she checked her pocket for the potion vials. “When we get there, we’ll take the potions and cast the silencing charms around ourselves. Remember, we won’t be able to talk to each other or see each other, and whatever you do, don’t touch anything for too long. If you find the horcrux, keep switching hands, but don’t keep it in the same hand.”
The boys nodded. “And we cast revellium on ourselves to counteract the potion, right?” Ron asked, turned towards the other two with a nervous expression.
“Yes, it will take the potion out of your system,” Hermione replied, nodding proudly at Ron’s spell retention.
Silently, the three took each others’ arms and took a deep breath before they apparated.
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Draco paced back and forth in the hall outside his room, arms hanging behind his back as his gray slacks and black silk shirt bounced around his lean form. His hair was disheveled and a lock of gold fell into his face. He pushed it back with a thin hand, his eyes flickering up to the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. His parents had left the house earlier that afternoon to conduct Ministry business in some sort of court trial, leaving him alone and panicking in the manor, his mind whirling with all his father had told him.
A shaky hand ascended, stopping at his chest and grasping the heavy locket through the fabric. He could feel the ‘S’ digging into his palm and his heart began to pound.
He knew what he had to do, but how… that was something else entirely.
He felt lightheaded for a moment and suppressed a shiver from running down his spine.
Why did he feel like something was about to happen?
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The trio appeared in the middle of a thick forest and all three promptly fell onto their faces. They had apparated on top of a log, apparently, and it hadn’t welcomed their stepping on it. Sitting up and pulling some leaves out of his hair, Harry glared at the offending wood and went to help Ron and Hermione up.
“Well that was fun,” Ron grumbled sarcastically.
Hermione brushed off her robes and withdrew the potion vials, walking ahead of them to the edge of the forest and looking down the hill to the manor. It stood majestically in the grass, unknowing, seemingly, of their presence. She swallowed and closed her eyes to calm herself, turning back to her companions.
“This is it,” Harry stated. “Don’t forget. They could have the cup or the locket, but check out anything that looks suspicious. And be careful, guys.”
The other two smiled weakly at him and Hermione handed out the separate vials.
Ron grimaced at it and held it up in front of his face to inspect its shimmering contents. “I’m getting bloody sick of these potions,” he muttered, making a face.
Harry shrugged and uncorked the glass. “Bottoms up,” he said grimly, downing the contents.
Suddenly, a sweeping sensation overtook him, like he’d just been thrown off balance, and he stumbled. It felt as if his entire body had just run cold, and his very blood turned to rivers of ice. The sensation fell like a wave over his whole body, and then it was gone. His eyes blinked open and he squinted at the brightness of the sun. He couldn’t see Ron and Hermione anywhere, and when he looked down, he couldn’t see himself either. He bent his neck and looked straight through his own stomach. The potion was flawless. Not a single imperfection marred the air that he now resembled. Hermione really was talented.
“Silencing charms,” he heard Hermione say from somewhere to his right. He nodded, but quickly stopped, realizing she couldn’t see him anyway.
Three voices mumbled the spells and soon the only sounds to be heard were the chirping of birds overhead. Steeling himself, Harry started towards the manor, stomach churning with anticipation.
When they reached the manor…. or… at least, Harry thought all three of them reached it at the same time, they edged the front door open and peered inside. Hearing no sounds and seeing no one running towards the eerily moving object, Harry pushed it open enough to squeeze through and waited until the invisible hands of one of his friends pushed the door close quietly. They had already decided their routes.
Hermione would go to the left, first checking the study and then the passage to left of the stairs. Ron would go upstairs and inspect the rooms. Harry was to go through the doors to their right and discover the room hidden behind the tall oak.
If anything went wrong or one of them found the horcrux, all they had to do was cast a communication spell. It would cause whoever the spell targeted to feel a magical pull, and they would all meet back by the forest.
Harry adjusted his glasses and wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. Bracing himself for any possibility, he walked up to the huge doors and pushed them open slowly, flinching as the door creaked slightly. Freezing, he glanced through the crack in the door and then behind him, unmoving for five painful seconds as he listened for any movement. He heard none and relaxed a bit, being much more careful as he pushed the door open enough to get through. Sliding in the room, he closed the door behind him before he inspected his surroundings. Hermione had been right; it was a ballroom.
Gleaming mahogany floors made up the huge room. Tables with what were most likely expensive antiques lined the room. To the right was a huge window that viewed the outside hills. To the left was a glass wall, with pure gold trim and doors that led out to what looked like an indoor garden. It was truly a beautiful sight, but Harry had no time to marvel at the Malfoys’ elegant taste.
Bringing his thoughts back in order, Harry scanned the room, spotting a chest on the opposite side. Moving towards it, he admired the elegant carvings upon its heavy surface. Slowly, and with a dreadful anxiousness, he lifted the lid. His heart sank. It help cups, but not the one he was looking for. Twelve sparkling, crystal drinking glasses were placed neatly inside its velvet interior. He sighed with disappointment.
His heart stopped when he heard a familiar creak of the door behind him and he whirled around, the lid of the chest snapping shut with a crack.
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Ron crept up the stairs, his freckled face glistening with a nervous sweat. Or, at least if would have been glistening, if for the fact that he currently had no appearance at all, due to invisibility.
When he reached the upstairs hall, he stopped dead. Draco Malfoy was currently pacing up and down the hall, his face twisted in concentration and his steps anxious and quick. What was his deal?
Ron suddenly had the feeling that he could be seen, and he stepped quickly into the nearest doorway just as a creak sounded from downstairs. His gaze shot to the stairs and Draco immediately stopped his pacing. Together, although unknowingly to the young Malfoy, they listened intently.
When the blonde began to move again, Ron assumed that he was merely continuing his pacing, so he was naturally surprised when, instead, the other teen appeared beside him. Ron let out a shout of surprise, clapping his hands over his mouth right afterwards. He then blushed crimson, remembering the silencing charm. Draco merely stood there for a moment, staring down the stairs.
Ron panicked. Had that sound been one of his friends? If they were caught…
He had no time to finish that thought, as Draco began jogging down the stairs. Ron stepped back out into the hall and leaned his right palm against the wall as he leaned forward in the stairwell to listen. If Draco found someone, he would hear it.
Soon enough, another creak was heard and Ron knew that Malfoy had just opened the same door that had been opened moments before. For a few moments, there was silence, and then there was a shouting of spells and a loud thump, then some shouts, but Ron heard no more than that.
Instead, he turned slowly, as if time itself had paused, as he began to fall sideways. How was he falling? Wasn’t he leaning against the wall?
Horror struck him with a sickening realization. He could no longer feel his hand or wrist. Looking to his side, he saw nothing, but as his arm began to grow numb, bit by bit, and he started to lose his balance and fall to the wall, he knew what had happened.
With the utmost fear, he dropped the silencing spell and whispered, “R-revellium.”
And then, he screamed.
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Harry mentally cursed himself for dropping the lid of the chest as he turned around to see Draco Malfoy walking into the room with a confused look on his face.
He began to edge towards the glass wall as the blonde searched the room unseeingly. “Hello?” he asked hesitantly.
Harry edged further, but he stopped as soon as Draco uttered his next word. “…Potter?”
Harry swung wide eyes to look at his rival. How could he possibly know?
Draco took a step into the room and drew his wand. This knocked Harry out of his trance and he began to dash towards the door. Unfortunately, his haste made him forget to check his surroundings, and he tripped on a rug at the end of the room, falling onto his side and kicking up a side of the carpet. His wand flew out of his hand and skidded across the rug, now visible.
Draco spun to the spot and, seeing the upturned rug, shouted, “Revellium!” It hit Harry in the shoulder, and he cried out in pain, letting the silencing spell drop as he did so. Immediately, his veins began to burn icily again and he felt like his own blood was being pulled from his body. When he opened his eyes, he could see his own feet and he pushed himself up on an elbow.
Emerald eyes crawled upwards and met with gray. Draco’s expression was not what Harry expected. He still had his wand on Harry, but he looked torn, his free hand lingering above his chest like he was about to do something.
Harry felt a ripple of anger and neurosis thrill through his system. No. He would not be done in by Draco Malfoy! He had to find the horcrux, and that snarky ferret would not stop him!
Within a second, Harry was diving for his wand. He grabbed it and landed on his knees, twisting around towards Malfoy with a curse on his lips.
“Wait!”
Harry hesitated.
“Wait, please!” Draco said, his hands in front of him in a stopping gesture. Harry stared on in bewilderment as the other ten dropped his wand carelessly, letting it clatter to the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” Harry growled, his expression untrusting.
Draco frowned and reached into his shirt. “I know why you’re here,” he said quietly.
Harry stood and lowered his wand slightly. “What are you on about?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. He gasped and his eyes widened as Draco pulled an item free from the confines of his shirt and undid the chain, holding it out for Harry to see.
It was the locket.
The horcrux.
Harry gaped, the raised his wand again. “Give it to me, Malfoy,” he said lowly.
Draco’s expression turned blank and he straightened, as if he had remembered his composure only then. Harry tensed, ready for an attack. Instead, the platinum blonde swung the chain and tossed the locket across the room to Harry.
Harry caught it with his left and was once more gaping in shock. “I don’t understand.” Could this be a trick?
Draco sneered. “Don’t be a fool, Potter,” he said, “I’ve always been on your side.”
Harry’s hands clasped tightly around the horcrux and he stared at Draco as if he’d never seen him before. Before he could say anything, Draco winced and his hand shot to his left arm. Wrenching down his sleeve, he exposed the Dark mark to the room. It was writhing on his skin and a look of panic overtook the boy’s features.
“Potter, you’ve got to get out of her!” he shouted, “Now!”
“What? Why?” Harry had no desire to stay, but this turn of events was still unsettling. What was going on now?
“The Dark Lord’s coming!” Draco yelled, “Get out! Get out now!”
Harry’s heart began to throttle his ribcage. Yet, it was not fear that struck him so strongly, but anxiety. “I-I can’t!” he stammered, his eyes swinging to the right just as he heard a terrible scream echo throughout the house.
The two boys turned and ran to the door, shoving it open. The screaming was coming from upstairs, and it was soon joined by another.
It was Hermione’s shriek that joined the bloodcurdling cries that came from above. And she cried a name that set Harry’s blood naturally cold this time.
“Ron!!!”
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The Dark Lord had been sitting in his quarters when the feeling hit him. It was a deep, determined anger and frustration that was not his own. He blinked and his vision changed to see the face of Draco Malfoy as wand swung out in front of him and he felt Harry about to utter a curse.
The vision stopped.
Voldemort groaned and stood. He had been hoping to rest a bit before he had gone to Malfoy manor, but it looked like Potter was ahead of him on this one.
He was still very weak, but he had recovered enough from the morning’s activities to handle this, he supposed. Throwing on his cloak and boots, he exited his quarters and started towards the entranceway.
“Wormtail!” he barked.
The pudgy little man appeared from around one of the corners and he stumbled over to Tom nervously. Riddle wrenched the man’s left arm from his side and pressed his finger to it, concentrating on the Malfoys to inform them that he would be arriving.
“Master?” Pettigrew inquired as the Dark Lord threw his arm away and began walking swiftly to the apparation wards.
Tom ignored him and hurried to his destination, wand already drawn.
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Lucius had trained himself over many years to not visibly allow the pain of his Dark Mark to effect him. However, he almost made an exception from his seat in the Ministry courtroom as it began to twist on his flesh. He turned to his wife and knew she had felt it as well, and simultaneously, they looked down at their arms. It wasn’t a summons, but a warning.
Lucius’ eyes widened ever so slightly. The Dark Lord was going to Malfoy manor.
Draco.
Turning to Narcissa, he leaned to her and whispered, “I will handle this.”
She nodded apprehensively and he stood, announcing his departure to the room.
By the time Lucius made it to a point where he was able to disapparate, a good fifteen minutes had passed since the warning. His heart pounding, he ran into the manor. The door was already ajar, and there was upset shouting coming from upstairs.
Drawing his wand, Lucius sprinted up the stairs only to stumble to a horrified stop as he looked at the scene before him.
Draco and Hermione Granger were kneeling over a body covered in blood. As he looked closer, he recognized that person as Ronald Weasley, and the boy was still alive, his breathing coming in short pants and his eyes wide and blank. He looked down at his feet when he felt them slide a little. The floor was covered in blood and the locket that he had given Draco was in the middle of the puddle, speckled with red.
“What’s happened?” he asked hoarsely, thrown by the sight.
Two heads shot up to meet his gaze and he was hit by another tremor of worry as he saw their expressions. The entire right side of Draco’s face was smeared in blood, but he did not look injured; only terribly frightened. Granger was sobbing and there was an angry red welt on the side of her cheek.
“He’s in shock,” Draco choked, looking back down at the Weasley boy. “His arm…”
Lucius’ son did not need to finish his sentence, for Lucius saw it himself. With a sickened shock, his eyes followed Ron’s right, blood-splattered shoulder down to his elbow. He would have continued, but that’s where the arm ended. All that was left was a half-healed stump that Hermione had apparently been trying to heal.
Kneeling down beside the shivering boy, he gently touched Hermione’s shoulder. She jumped and began to cry harder.
“Move aside,” he said firmly. She complied, brainlessly, and continued to shake as much as her fallen comrade. Lucius began to mutter an advanced incantation, and Ron’s arm began to seal up. When he was finished, he surveyed the amount of blood around them. There was a lot, and upon observing the paleness of the Weasley’s complexion, he had definitely lost a dangerous amount.
“I have potions fro the pain and blood loss,” Lucius said, hiding the stress within his elegant voice. “They are in my stores downstairs. Draco.”
The stunned boy nodded and started running down the stairs, leaving tracks of crimson blood where he stepped.
Lucius turned towards the brown haired witch. She had calmed herself somewhat at seeing Ron’s arm heal. She was still too shocked to question Lucius’ actions, and for the moment, he was grateful for that. Instead, he spoke to her of something far more important. “Where is Potter?” he asked.
The girl looked up, her brown eyes wide and lips trembling. “He…” she looked lost for a moment, and then said. Her sobs renewed. “Voldemort took him!” she cried, burying her face in her hands.
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Harry and Draco ran as fast as their legs would allow them to the screams, only becoming more terrified as the shouts died down to only Hermione’s. The dashed up the stairs as the front door opened behind them. A stunning spell flew past Harry’s earn and the pair ran faster.
What they saw when they reached the top of the stairs stopped them in their tracks. Hermione was huddled on the floor with a shaking Ron. Blood covered them both and it was slowly seeping out over the floor.
Harry didn’t have time to think as another jet of light sped towards him and he jumped to the side. The spell hit the side of Hermione’s cheek and she cried out in pain.
“Don’t run from me, potter!” came a familiar voice.
In a quick decision, Harry grabbed Draco’s arm and pushed him the rest of the way up the stairs. The blonde fell face first into the blood, the right half of his face sliding through it before he could catch himself.
Another spell came burning pat and Harry turned and darted down the stairs, Hermione’s shouts dying out behind him. He saw the angry face of Voldemort at the bottom of the steps, and he unthinkingly launched himself towards the man, grabbing his clothed arm.
Voldemort saw Harry jump at him and braced himself, his red eyes meeting green as the boy latched onto his arm. This was the perfect opportunity, and he would take it.
As he and Harry fell back from the force of the tackle, Voldemort allowed his face a small smirk before there was a loud crack, and they disappeared.
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Lucius stood quickly and began down the stairs. He met Draco halfway. The teen’s hands were filled with all sorts of potions and he looked utterly panicked. Lucius calmed him a bit by laying a heavy hand on his shoulder and looking into mirroring gray eyes. “Calm down. You have done well,” he said smoothly, giving his son a small smile. “It’s this one and… this one,” he said, looking down at the bottles in Draco’s arms and pointing at the correct ones. “Give them to him now, wait five minutes, and leave.”
Draco’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Leave? I don’t understand.”
“You are to go with those two to wherever they came from,” Lucius said firmly, his eyes never leaving Draco’s. “The Dark Lord knows that you tried to help them. He ill not be forgiving in this case. You must go into hiding with them. I have to find Severus. We’ll take care of Potter.”
Draco stared at Lucius for a minute, his eyes uncertain, but his father gave him a light squeeze on the shoulder and he nodded. “Ok…okay,” he said hesitantly.
Lucius nodded and gave one last small smile. “Be safe,” he said before he turned to go. Once more, Draco nodded, and then turned their separate ways.
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Harry had little time to think as they reappeared in a strange hall. He was dragged before he could say a word down a hall and into a dark room. Voldemort threw him against a stone wall and he fell to the ground, clutching his wand desperately.
The room was cold and had a dungeon-like atmosphere. There were flickering torches on either side of the door and a dark staircase to his left. He didn’t even get a moment to wonder where the staircase led before Voldemort shot another spell at him, an angry scowl on his face.
Harry rolled away from the wall and cast a body-bind at the other man, who blocked it easily and sent three hexes his way. Harry dodged the first two, but the third hit him in the arm and he gasped as he felt his shirt slice open along with his flesh.
They kept up this tango for a good ten minutes, shooting curses and jinxes back and forth at each other like tennis players.
“Stupefy!” Harry shouted breathlessly, as he ran back to the wall he had come from. Voldemort’s shield came up just in time and Harry was perplexed. Was Voldemort panting? But they’d done hardly anything!
“Levicorpus!” Harry cried, his messy hair brushing across his scar and reminding him of the burning pain that it held.
The reptilian man dodged the spell and shot off another one just as Harry did the same. The spells hit in the middle of the room, lighting it up for an instant before Harry felt his wand jerk itself out of his hand and fly into the darkness. He looked up just in time to see that Voldemort’s had done the same. Both their spells had backfired.
They stared each other down, neither willing to make the first move.
Then, Tom slouched a bit before stopping himself. Harry’s eyes widened. The Dark Lord was obviously very weak. This was his opening.
He glanced around in the shadows for his wand, but the torches did nothing to aid his search, and he gave up.
Turning back to Voldemort, his eyes met for the thousandth time with ruby, and he felt a ripping tide of rage overwhelm him. Running forward, he reached out and wrapped his hands around the man’s long throat.
Tom crashed into the wall in an instant, but he did not look the least bit surprised as Harry’s hands tightened around his throat. He didn’t even make a move to stop him. Instead, he just stared at him as the boy started to tremble.
Harry’s hands began to shake as he stared at the face in front of him. How could he have been so stupid? He had touched the man’s skin, and now the dark eyes of Tom Riddle were staring back at him. He tried to tighten his grip, but he just couldn’t.
If it had been that snake-like face that he was looking at now, maybe he could have done it. Maybe he could have gone through with it. But not with this face. Not with this face looking at him.
Harry felt sick and he hated himself as his hands began to loosen. Voldemort’s face was unreadable, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of it.
“Yes,” the teen croaked quietly, his voice breaking. Tom’s eyes flickered into focus. “Yes,” Harry repeated, his eyes looking back into Riddle’s. “I have dreamt of a room with a fireplace.” His fingers were loosened completely now, and only his fingertips rested against the pale skin.
Voldemort’s expression changed briefly, and Harry felt his last bit of control break. Through all his self-loathing and doubt, he pressed his lips forward onto the older man’s furiously, throwing all of the pent up emotions that had encumbered him since that day in the Hogwarts courtyard. He finally allowed himself to feel the other lips against his and he grew dizzy.
Without warning, Tom gripped one hand on the back of Harry’s neck and the other on the young wizard’s arm, pushing him away and spinning them both around so that now it was Harry who was crushed against the wall. Tom restored the kiss with a fervor, and this time, Harry returned it just as desperately.
Their lips wrestled with one another, and when Tom’s tongue dipped into his mouth, Harry tensed up and groaned. The battle came into their mouths and Harry felt his hands move of their own accord. The slid down the older wizard’s chest and he fumbled with the buttons, wanting to feel more skin. He unbuttoned the top few and slipped his hands onto the flesh of the man’s collarbone.
Tom couldn’t restrain a soft moan when Harry’s hands slid into the top of his shirt, and he let his own fingers trace the contours of Harry’s face before they entangled themselves in the boy’s raven hair. He opened his eyes to see that Harry’s were shut tightly, and he pressed his tongue deeper into the teen’s mouth, determined to feel every bit of it.
When Harry’s hands trailed up to the Dark Lord’s face, Tom broke of the kiss involuntarily and stood stock still, their foreheads together, and Harry’s delicate fingers began to feel every detail of his face.
Harry’s eyes were open now, however half-lidded, and he was staring curiously into Tom’s eyes. The pads of his thumbs traced the man’s high cheekbones and then ran over his forehead, shifting past his ears and dropping back down to his neck.
Riddle’s eyes had fallen close through this, and he took in a deep breath, leaning forward to capture Harry’s lips in one last kiss. This time it was tender and soft, and he pulled away after it, leaving only his right hand resting on the side of Harry’s neck.
The jade-eyed wizard’s hands fell away and he shut his eyes with a sigh when Voldemort let his palm cup Harry’s cheek for a moment.
When the Dark Lord finally pulled his arm away, Harry kept his eyes closed.
“When you go out the door, turn left,” Tom said softly, his whisper barely audible even in the silence of the room. “The opening at the end of the hall is where the wards drop. You may apparate there. I suggest you do so quickly, lest one of my Death Eaters see you.”
Harry leaned against the wall still, his body unable to move. Even now, his eyes remained closed. “I...” he managed to say lamely, his hoarse voice trailing off.
“Go, Harry,” Voldemort said roughly. Harry heard the rustle of fabric and listened quietly as Tom descended the stairs at the back of the room. He waited until he could no longer hear him before he opened his eyes, and then, he simply stared at the wall.
His brain refused to work, and though he wanted more than anything to think, he could do no such thing at the moment; so he stepped away from the wall, with difficulty, and opened the door to the room, not looking back.
Without any more thoughts, he turned left and ran.
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You have no clue how much I enjoyed writing this chapter.
Mwahaha.
--
Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.
The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr
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Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you, for you
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
As years go by
I race the clock with you
But if you died right now
You know that I'd die to
I'd die too
You remind me of the times
When I knew who I was
But still the second hand will catch us
Like it always does.
Well make the same mistakes
I'll Take the fall for you
I hope you need this now
cuz I know I still do.
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
Should I bite my tongue
Until blood soaks my shirt?
We'll never fall apart
so Tell me why this hurts so much
My hands are at your throat
And I think I hate you
But still we'll say, "remember when"
Just like we always do, just like we always do
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
Yeah I'd spill my heart
Yeah I'd spill my heart, for you
My hands are at your throat
And I think I hate you
We made the same mistakes
mistakes like friends do,
my hands are at your throat
and I think I hate you
we made the same mistakes.
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you, for you
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you, for you
Until the day I die
I'll spill my heart for you
Until the day I die
Until the day I die
-Story of the Year – Until the Day I Die
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Featherlight Taction
Chapter 16- Pursuit
The wind swept over the hills, blowing the fog in dancing circles of cold in the early morning. The dead trees swayed and creaked ominously around the mansion, a building that looked as abandoned as the forest around it. No animals dared make the forest here their home, for it bore no food or shelter anyway, and the sky was a deadly white, a warning of the snow to come.
The land was lifeless, except for one man. He was hooded and cloaked, and his thin, tall body walked briskly towards the dark mansion. Even as his hands were safe in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched together from the cold, he bore a sheer elegance and powerful grace that showed both knowledge and arrogance.
He stalked up to the abandoned home and glanced for a moment at the ajar door, his red eyes scanning the hall beyond it.
It was now devoid of the body that had been there the last time he had ventured to this place. For this, he was grateful. He had no desire to see the dead at the moment.
Stepping past the threshold, Lord Voldemort pulled back his hood and narrowed his eyes at the dankness of the place. This was worse than his manor. It was so desolate, and he chuckled at the thought that only a Lestrange would deem this place livable.
He had chosen to come alone to retrieve his horcrux for a very good reason. Though it would be difficult to move it, seeing as he could not be near it without severe physical pain, it was more beneficial to him to not let anyone know of its movement. He’d recently had a suspicion of a rat within his ranks, and he wasn’t referring to Wormtail when he thought this.
Therefore, it would be wiser if only he knew the horcrux’s location this time.
It would just be a bit more tiring, that’s all.
For the next twenty minutes, he found himself scouring the house; wandering in and out of its many empty rooms and growing more and more irritated by the moment. Suddenly, as he reached the end of the East wing, he felt his chest constrict uncomfortably and his heart rate began to increase. It was near.
His pace hurried, he continued as the tenseness grew. Soon, it was difficult for him to breath and small trickled of sweat made their way down his forehead. He had to find it quickly. This must be done in an expedient matter or the consequences would be most severe.
As he reached the last room in the hall, he knew that the cup was close. He entered the room, ignoring the surroundings and coming right up to an antique chest. It was covered in dust and seemingly untouched. The only thing strange about it was the lock, which was a polished gold. It had no keyhole or even, apparently a way to open it, and Tom withdrew his wand.
He tried the basic spells first, but they were of no use. At least Bellatrix had been the least bit more competent than he had guessed. His heart began to race more harshly and he dropped to his knees, whispering a tedious incantation as he pressed the tip of his wand to the metal. Within seconds, the lock dissolved away in a cloud of glittering golden sparks.
With a flick of his wand, the lid flew open. His eyes narrowed to avoid the flying dust, and his heart slowed minutely from mere relief. There, within the middle of the large chest, sat Hufflepuff’s cup.
Instead of picking it up, he cast a hovering charm and walked, much more slowly, out of the room. The cup followed silently behind his limping steps as his vision began to blur and he lost a certain sense of balance. His head was pounding as he reached the grounds and head for the anti-apparition wards. Halfway across the mile to reach the end of the wards, he felt his magic slip and heard the cup clang to the dirt.
For a moment, the Dark Lord just stood there, as if he could not believe that he, of all people, could no longer cast a valid levitation spell. Painfully, he turned around as gazed with wide eyes at the offending object.
Realizing his only option, his set his thoroughly whitened face into a furious scowl.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he hissed, dragging his feet over to the fallen horcrux. With a grimace, he leaned over and grasped the slim handle of the cup, picking it up with what seemed to be extreme difficulty.
He ignored the searing heat that engulfed his hand and forced his remaining strength into walking as he reached the end of the wards.
Finally, with his last bit of saved magic, the Dark Lord disapparated back to his manor and launched himself into a dark, dungeon-like room at a far end of his manor. Casting the cup into a dark, metal closet, he slammed the door shut and muttered one final incantation, sealing the door shut.
Then, he collapsed to the floor.
Perhaps it wasn’t the most brilliant idea to do that alone.
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Ginny and Neville were sitting together in the Great Hall, along with Luna, Dean, Seamus, Cho, and numerous other DA members. They knew it was a bit silly to gather together in such a public area, but if they were questioned, they could just say that they were debating the next Quidditch match.
Not that anyone would actually believe that…
Neville leaned over to Ginny and the rest of the group leaned in as well to hear what he was whispering. It was quite a spectacle to see, honestly—twenty or so students all leaning in at a small section of the Gryffindor table. It was like a muggle football huddle.
“So how are we going to find them?” Neville asked, staring at Ginny disbelievingly. “You said that your mum wrote you and told you that they weren’t at the Order place anymore…”
Ginny exchanged looks with Luna and blushed when she noticed twenty separate pairs of eyes on her. “I think Hermione still has her coin from way back when,” Ginny said quietly. “You know, these.” She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a fake galleon. It was the method of communication that Dumbledore’s Arm had used since fifth year. “I’m going to try to contact her through it. Hopefully she’ll see and we’ll find out where they are, but I don’t know.”
“What if she doesn’t have a coin?” Seamus inquired from across the table. “There’s no guarantee she even has it anymore.”
“I know that,” Ginny replied agitatedly. It was rather tiresome being looked to like the leader of the whole thing. It’s not like she had wanted to be the one who figured everything out. “If that doesn’t work, then…” she blushed crimson and muttered the last bit in a rush of breath. “IdunnothecoinwasallIcouldthinkof.”
Her peers stared at her in shock. “That’s all you could come up with?!” Lavender exclaimed, throwing her hands to her face in over-dramatized horror.
“Well I’m not some super… person!” Ginny retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. “I don’t see why I have to come up with the whole bloody plan!”
Neville gulped and tentatively placed a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “Well, listen, guys,” he said softly, beginning to sweat when all eyes were turned to him. “I think the coin is a good idea. We’ll try that tonight, ok? In the meantime, let’s all of us try to think of some other ways we could possibly find them. Everyone try and think of something by our meeting tonight. Don’t worry, we’ll find them. I know it.”
The teens seemed satisfied with this encouragement and they muttered to each other in agreement, nodding back and forth. One by one, they said their goodbyes to the Gryffindors and, strangely, Luna as they walked back to their own tables.
Ginny and Neville turned to Luna and looked at her strangely.
She smiled happily back at them and reached across the table to grab some toast, spreading some strawberry jam over it with a dazed look.
“Um…. Luna?” Neville asked.
“Hm?” she asked, taking a bite out of her toast and looking utterly giddy.
“Aren’t you going to go back to the Ravenclaw table?” the boy asked sheepishly.
“Why in the world would I do that?” the blonde inquired curiously, peering over at the mousy teen.
“Uh, well, that is, no reason! Of course! Yes!” Neville stuttered, turning to his plate quickly. Ginny was now eyeing him with the same bemused look as she had regarded Luna with, scooting away from him a bit.
Luna shrugged him off and turned back to her toast, humming as she did so.
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Harry was in his room, staring solemnly out of the frost-nipped window into the snow-covered forest, elbows propped up on the windowsill and palms supporting his tired head. His pink lips were pressed into a thin line and his exhales of breath were sharp and forced. His glasses had been set aside on the sill, seeing as they only steamed up when he breathed so close to the window. The fingers on his right hand flexed and he blinked.
They were about to go to the Malfoys’ house once more, and, somehow, he found himself worrying more about whether or not Voldemort would be there than if they would find the horcrux they sought.
He sighed, fogging over the window in front of his face until he could only see vague distortions of the white trees outside. Pushing himself away from the window, he grabbed his glasses and started out towards the dining room.
Ron thought that Voldemort’s being at the Malfoy manor had only been a coincidence. Harry was fairly certain he was right, but he still had that nagging feeling at the end of his gut. Problem was, he couldn’t exactly identify what that feeling was.
Putting his glasses back on and turning around the hall corner, he let his eyes focus on the pair that were sitting at the wood table.
“Oh come on, ‘Mione!” Ron groaned, “We’ve gone over this a thousand times!”
Said witch stuck her hands on her hips indignantly and gave Ron an annoyed look. “Well this is very serious! If you could just remember it all-“
“I remember it just fine!” Ron snapped, looking offended. “I’m not a bloody toddler.”
Hermione threw her hands up in the air and let out a growl. Ron shrunk back in his seat.
“Hermione,” Harry said from across the room. The two looked up. They hadn’t known he was there. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We’ve planned thoroughly this time. It won’t go wrong.”
Hermione slouched, but said nothing. After a moment of contemplative silence, the three stood and picked up their things, walking outside into the snow.
“We’ll apparate into the forest beside the manor,” Hermione said, staring into the trees as she checked her pocket for the potion vials. “When we get there, we’ll take the potions and cast the silencing charms around ourselves. Remember, we won’t be able to talk to each other or see each other, and whatever you do, don’t touch anything for too long. If you find the horcrux, keep switching hands, but don’t keep it in the same hand.”
The boys nodded. “And we cast revellium on ourselves to counteract the potion, right?” Ron asked, turned towards the other two with a nervous expression.
“Yes, it will take the potion out of your system,” Hermione replied, nodding proudly at Ron’s spell retention.
Silently, the three took each others’ arms and took a deep breath before they apparated.
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Draco paced back and forth in the hall outside his room, arms hanging behind his back as his gray slacks and black silk shirt bounced around his lean form. His hair was disheveled and a lock of gold fell into his face. He pushed it back with a thin hand, his eyes flickering up to the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. His parents had left the house earlier that afternoon to conduct Ministry business in some sort of court trial, leaving him alone and panicking in the manor, his mind whirling with all his father had told him.
A shaky hand ascended, stopping at his chest and grasping the heavy locket through the fabric. He could feel the ‘S’ digging into his palm and his heart began to pound.
He knew what he had to do, but how… that was something else entirely.
He felt lightheaded for a moment and suppressed a shiver from running down his spine.
Why did he feel like something was about to happen?
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The trio appeared in the middle of a thick forest and all three promptly fell onto their faces. They had apparated on top of a log, apparently, and it hadn’t welcomed their stepping on it. Sitting up and pulling some leaves out of his hair, Harry glared at the offending wood and went to help Ron and Hermione up.
“Well that was fun,” Ron grumbled sarcastically.
Hermione brushed off her robes and withdrew the potion vials, walking ahead of them to the edge of the forest and looking down the hill to the manor. It stood majestically in the grass, unknowing, seemingly, of their presence. She swallowed and closed her eyes to calm herself, turning back to her companions.
“This is it,” Harry stated. “Don’t forget. They could have the cup or the locket, but check out anything that looks suspicious. And be careful, guys.”
The other two smiled weakly at him and Hermione handed out the separate vials.
Ron grimaced at it and held it up in front of his face to inspect its shimmering contents. “I’m getting bloody sick of these potions,” he muttered, making a face.
Harry shrugged and uncorked the glass. “Bottoms up,” he said grimly, downing the contents.
Suddenly, a sweeping sensation overtook him, like he’d just been thrown off balance, and he stumbled. It felt as if his entire body had just run cold, and his very blood turned to rivers of ice. The sensation fell like a wave over his whole body, and then it was gone. His eyes blinked open and he squinted at the brightness of the sun. He couldn’t see Ron and Hermione anywhere, and when he looked down, he couldn’t see himself either. He bent his neck and looked straight through his own stomach. The potion was flawless. Not a single imperfection marred the air that he now resembled. Hermione really was talented.
“Silencing charms,” he heard Hermione say from somewhere to his right. He nodded, but quickly stopped, realizing she couldn’t see him anyway.
Three voices mumbled the spells and soon the only sounds to be heard were the chirping of birds overhead. Steeling himself, Harry started towards the manor, stomach churning with anticipation.
When they reached the manor…. or… at least, Harry thought all three of them reached it at the same time, they edged the front door open and peered inside. Hearing no sounds and seeing no one running towards the eerily moving object, Harry pushed it open enough to squeeze through and waited until the invisible hands of one of his friends pushed the door close quietly. They had already decided their routes.
Hermione would go to the left, first checking the study and then the passage to left of the stairs. Ron would go upstairs and inspect the rooms. Harry was to go through the doors to their right and discover the room hidden behind the tall oak.
If anything went wrong or one of them found the horcrux, all they had to do was cast a communication spell. It would cause whoever the spell targeted to feel a magical pull, and they would all meet back by the forest.
Harry adjusted his glasses and wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. Bracing himself for any possibility, he walked up to the huge doors and pushed them open slowly, flinching as the door creaked slightly. Freezing, he glanced through the crack in the door and then behind him, unmoving for five painful seconds as he listened for any movement. He heard none and relaxed a bit, being much more careful as he pushed the door open enough to get through. Sliding in the room, he closed the door behind him before he inspected his surroundings. Hermione had been right; it was a ballroom.
Gleaming mahogany floors made up the huge room. Tables with what were most likely expensive antiques lined the room. To the right was a huge window that viewed the outside hills. To the left was a glass wall, with pure gold trim and doors that led out to what looked like an indoor garden. It was truly a beautiful sight, but Harry had no time to marvel at the Malfoys’ elegant taste.
Bringing his thoughts back in order, Harry scanned the room, spotting a chest on the opposite side. Moving towards it, he admired the elegant carvings upon its heavy surface. Slowly, and with a dreadful anxiousness, he lifted the lid. His heart sank. It help cups, but not the one he was looking for. Twelve sparkling, crystal drinking glasses were placed neatly inside its velvet interior. He sighed with disappointment.
His heart stopped when he heard a familiar creak of the door behind him and he whirled around, the lid of the chest snapping shut with a crack.
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Ron crept up the stairs, his freckled face glistening with a nervous sweat. Or, at least if would have been glistening, if for the fact that he currently had no appearance at all, due to invisibility.
When he reached the upstairs hall, he stopped dead. Draco Malfoy was currently pacing up and down the hall, his face twisted in concentration and his steps anxious and quick. What was his deal?
Ron suddenly had the feeling that he could be seen, and he stepped quickly into the nearest doorway just as a creak sounded from downstairs. His gaze shot to the stairs and Draco immediately stopped his pacing. Together, although unknowingly to the young Malfoy, they listened intently.
When the blonde began to move again, Ron assumed that he was merely continuing his pacing, so he was naturally surprised when, instead, the other teen appeared beside him. Ron let out a shout of surprise, clapping his hands over his mouth right afterwards. He then blushed crimson, remembering the silencing charm. Draco merely stood there for a moment, staring down the stairs.
Ron panicked. Had that sound been one of his friends? If they were caught…
He had no time to finish that thought, as Draco began jogging down the stairs. Ron stepped back out into the hall and leaned his right palm against the wall as he leaned forward in the stairwell to listen. If Draco found someone, he would hear it.
Soon enough, another creak was heard and Ron knew that Malfoy had just opened the same door that had been opened moments before. For a few moments, there was silence, and then there was a shouting of spells and a loud thump, then some shouts, but Ron heard no more than that.
Instead, he turned slowly, as if time itself had paused, as he began to fall sideways. How was he falling? Wasn’t he leaning against the wall?
Horror struck him with a sickening realization. He could no longer feel his hand or wrist. Looking to his side, he saw nothing, but as his arm began to grow numb, bit by bit, and he started to lose his balance and fall to the wall, he knew what had happened.
With the utmost fear, he dropped the silencing spell and whispered, “R-revellium.”
And then, he screamed.
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Harry mentally cursed himself for dropping the lid of the chest as he turned around to see Draco Malfoy walking into the room with a confused look on his face.
He began to edge towards the glass wall as the blonde searched the room unseeingly. “Hello?” he asked hesitantly.
Harry edged further, but he stopped as soon as Draco uttered his next word. “…Potter?”
Harry swung wide eyes to look at his rival. How could he possibly know?
Draco took a step into the room and drew his wand. This knocked Harry out of his trance and he began to dash towards the door. Unfortunately, his haste made him forget to check his surroundings, and he tripped on a rug at the end of the room, falling onto his side and kicking up a side of the carpet. His wand flew out of his hand and skidded across the rug, now visible.
Draco spun to the spot and, seeing the upturned rug, shouted, “Revellium!” It hit Harry in the shoulder, and he cried out in pain, letting the silencing spell drop as he did so. Immediately, his veins began to burn icily again and he felt like his own blood was being pulled from his body. When he opened his eyes, he could see his own feet and he pushed himself up on an elbow.
Emerald eyes crawled upwards and met with gray. Draco’s expression was not what Harry expected. He still had his wand on Harry, but he looked torn, his free hand lingering above his chest like he was about to do something.
Harry felt a ripple of anger and neurosis thrill through his system. No. He would not be done in by Draco Malfoy! He had to find the horcrux, and that snarky ferret would not stop him!
Within a second, Harry was diving for his wand. He grabbed it and landed on his knees, twisting around towards Malfoy with a curse on his lips.
“Wait!”
Harry hesitated.
“Wait, please!” Draco said, his hands in front of him in a stopping gesture. Harry stared on in bewilderment as the other ten dropped his wand carelessly, letting it clatter to the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” Harry growled, his expression untrusting.
Draco frowned and reached into his shirt. “I know why you’re here,” he said quietly.
Harry stood and lowered his wand slightly. “What are you on about?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. He gasped and his eyes widened as Draco pulled an item free from the confines of his shirt and undid the chain, holding it out for Harry to see.
It was the locket.
The horcrux.
Harry gaped, the raised his wand again. “Give it to me, Malfoy,” he said lowly.
Draco’s expression turned blank and he straightened, as if he had remembered his composure only then. Harry tensed, ready for an attack. Instead, the platinum blonde swung the chain and tossed the locket across the room to Harry.
Harry caught it with his left and was once more gaping in shock. “I don’t understand.” Could this be a trick?
Draco sneered. “Don’t be a fool, Potter,” he said, “I’ve always been on your side.”
Harry’s hands clasped tightly around the horcrux and he stared at Draco as if he’d never seen him before. Before he could say anything, Draco winced and his hand shot to his left arm. Wrenching down his sleeve, he exposed the Dark mark to the room. It was writhing on his skin and a look of panic overtook the boy’s features.
“Potter, you’ve got to get out of her!” he shouted, “Now!”
“What? Why?” Harry had no desire to stay, but this turn of events was still unsettling. What was going on now?
“The Dark Lord’s coming!” Draco yelled, “Get out! Get out now!”
Harry’s heart began to throttle his ribcage. Yet, it was not fear that struck him so strongly, but anxiety. “I-I can’t!” he stammered, his eyes swinging to the right just as he heard a terrible scream echo throughout the house.
The two boys turned and ran to the door, shoving it open. The screaming was coming from upstairs, and it was soon joined by another.
It was Hermione’s shriek that joined the bloodcurdling cries that came from above. And she cried a name that set Harry’s blood naturally cold this time.
“Ron!!!”
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The Dark Lord had been sitting in his quarters when the feeling hit him. It was a deep, determined anger and frustration that was not his own. He blinked and his vision changed to see the face of Draco Malfoy as wand swung out in front of him and he felt Harry about to utter a curse.
The vision stopped.
Voldemort groaned and stood. He had been hoping to rest a bit before he had gone to Malfoy manor, but it looked like Potter was ahead of him on this one.
He was still very weak, but he had recovered enough from the morning’s activities to handle this, he supposed. Throwing on his cloak and boots, he exited his quarters and started towards the entranceway.
“Wormtail!” he barked.
The pudgy little man appeared from around one of the corners and he stumbled over to Tom nervously. Riddle wrenched the man’s left arm from his side and pressed his finger to it, concentrating on the Malfoys to inform them that he would be arriving.
“Master?” Pettigrew inquired as the Dark Lord threw his arm away and began walking swiftly to the apparation wards.
Tom ignored him and hurried to his destination, wand already drawn.
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Lucius had trained himself over many years to not visibly allow the pain of his Dark Mark to effect him. However, he almost made an exception from his seat in the Ministry courtroom as it began to twist on his flesh. He turned to his wife and knew she had felt it as well, and simultaneously, they looked down at their arms. It wasn’t a summons, but a warning.
Lucius’ eyes widened ever so slightly. The Dark Lord was going to Malfoy manor.
Draco.
Turning to Narcissa, he leaned to her and whispered, “I will handle this.”
She nodded apprehensively and he stood, announcing his departure to the room.
By the time Lucius made it to a point where he was able to disapparate, a good fifteen minutes had passed since the warning. His heart pounding, he ran into the manor. The door was already ajar, and there was upset shouting coming from upstairs.
Drawing his wand, Lucius sprinted up the stairs only to stumble to a horrified stop as he looked at the scene before him.
Draco and Hermione Granger were kneeling over a body covered in blood. As he looked closer, he recognized that person as Ronald Weasley, and the boy was still alive, his breathing coming in short pants and his eyes wide and blank. He looked down at his feet when he felt them slide a little. The floor was covered in blood and the locket that he had given Draco was in the middle of the puddle, speckled with red.
“What’s happened?” he asked hoarsely, thrown by the sight.
Two heads shot up to meet his gaze and he was hit by another tremor of worry as he saw their expressions. The entire right side of Draco’s face was smeared in blood, but he did not look injured; only terribly frightened. Granger was sobbing and there was an angry red welt on the side of her cheek.
“He’s in shock,” Draco choked, looking back down at the Weasley boy. “His arm…”
Lucius’ son did not need to finish his sentence, for Lucius saw it himself. With a sickened shock, his eyes followed Ron’s right, blood-splattered shoulder down to his elbow. He would have continued, but that’s where the arm ended. All that was left was a half-healed stump that Hermione had apparently been trying to heal.
Kneeling down beside the shivering boy, he gently touched Hermione’s shoulder. She jumped and began to cry harder.
“Move aside,” he said firmly. She complied, brainlessly, and continued to shake as much as her fallen comrade. Lucius began to mutter an advanced incantation, and Ron’s arm began to seal up. When he was finished, he surveyed the amount of blood around them. There was a lot, and upon observing the paleness of the Weasley’s complexion, he had definitely lost a dangerous amount.
“I have potions fro the pain and blood loss,” Lucius said, hiding the stress within his elegant voice. “They are in my stores downstairs. Draco.”
The stunned boy nodded and started running down the stairs, leaving tracks of crimson blood where he stepped.
Lucius turned towards the brown haired witch. She had calmed herself somewhat at seeing Ron’s arm heal. She was still too shocked to question Lucius’ actions, and for the moment, he was grateful for that. Instead, he spoke to her of something far more important. “Where is Potter?” he asked.
The girl looked up, her brown eyes wide and lips trembling. “He…” she looked lost for a moment, and then said. Her sobs renewed. “Voldemort took him!” she cried, burying her face in her hands.
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Harry and Draco ran as fast as their legs would allow them to the screams, only becoming more terrified as the shouts died down to only Hermione’s. The dashed up the stairs as the front door opened behind them. A stunning spell flew past Harry’s earn and the pair ran faster.
What they saw when they reached the top of the stairs stopped them in their tracks. Hermione was huddled on the floor with a shaking Ron. Blood covered them both and it was slowly seeping out over the floor.
Harry didn’t have time to think as another jet of light sped towards him and he jumped to the side. The spell hit the side of Hermione’s cheek and she cried out in pain.
“Don’t run from me, potter!” came a familiar voice.
In a quick decision, Harry grabbed Draco’s arm and pushed him the rest of the way up the stairs. The blonde fell face first into the blood, the right half of his face sliding through it before he could catch himself.
Another spell came burning pat and Harry turned and darted down the stairs, Hermione’s shouts dying out behind him. He saw the angry face of Voldemort at the bottom of the steps, and he unthinkingly launched himself towards the man, grabbing his clothed arm.
Voldemort saw Harry jump at him and braced himself, his red eyes meeting green as the boy latched onto his arm. This was the perfect opportunity, and he would take it.
As he and Harry fell back from the force of the tackle, Voldemort allowed his face a small smirk before there was a loud crack, and they disappeared.
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Lucius stood quickly and began down the stairs. He met Draco halfway. The teen’s hands were filled with all sorts of potions and he looked utterly panicked. Lucius calmed him a bit by laying a heavy hand on his shoulder and looking into mirroring gray eyes. “Calm down. You have done well,” he said smoothly, giving his son a small smile. “It’s this one and… this one,” he said, looking down at the bottles in Draco’s arms and pointing at the correct ones. “Give them to him now, wait five minutes, and leave.”
Draco’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Leave? I don’t understand.”
“You are to go with those two to wherever they came from,” Lucius said firmly, his eyes never leaving Draco’s. “The Dark Lord knows that you tried to help them. He ill not be forgiving in this case. You must go into hiding with them. I have to find Severus. We’ll take care of Potter.”
Draco stared at Lucius for a minute, his eyes uncertain, but his father gave him a light squeeze on the shoulder and he nodded. “Ok…okay,” he said hesitantly.
Lucius nodded and gave one last small smile. “Be safe,” he said before he turned to go. Once more, Draco nodded, and then turned their separate ways.
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Harry had little time to think as they reappeared in a strange hall. He was dragged before he could say a word down a hall and into a dark room. Voldemort threw him against a stone wall and he fell to the ground, clutching his wand desperately.
The room was cold and had a dungeon-like atmosphere. There were flickering torches on either side of the door and a dark staircase to his left. He didn’t even get a moment to wonder where the staircase led before Voldemort shot another spell at him, an angry scowl on his face.
Harry rolled away from the wall and cast a body-bind at the other man, who blocked it easily and sent three hexes his way. Harry dodged the first two, but the third hit him in the arm and he gasped as he felt his shirt slice open along with his flesh.
They kept up this tango for a good ten minutes, shooting curses and jinxes back and forth at each other like tennis players.
“Stupefy!” Harry shouted breathlessly, as he ran back to the wall he had come from. Voldemort’s shield came up just in time and Harry was perplexed. Was Voldemort panting? But they’d done hardly anything!
“Levicorpus!” Harry cried, his messy hair brushing across his scar and reminding him of the burning pain that it held.
The reptilian man dodged the spell and shot off another one just as Harry did the same. The spells hit in the middle of the room, lighting it up for an instant before Harry felt his wand jerk itself out of his hand and fly into the darkness. He looked up just in time to see that Voldemort’s had done the same. Both their spells had backfired.
They stared each other down, neither willing to make the first move.
Then, Tom slouched a bit before stopping himself. Harry’s eyes widened. The Dark Lord was obviously very weak. This was his opening.
He glanced around in the shadows for his wand, but the torches did nothing to aid his search, and he gave up.
Turning back to Voldemort, his eyes met for the thousandth time with ruby, and he felt a ripping tide of rage overwhelm him. Running forward, he reached out and wrapped his hands around the man’s long throat.
Tom crashed into the wall in an instant, but he did not look the least bit surprised as Harry’s hands tightened around his throat. He didn’t even make a move to stop him. Instead, he just stared at him as the boy started to tremble.
Harry’s hands began to shake as he stared at the face in front of him. How could he have been so stupid? He had touched the man’s skin, and now the dark eyes of Tom Riddle were staring back at him. He tried to tighten his grip, but he just couldn’t.
If it had been that snake-like face that he was looking at now, maybe he could have done it. Maybe he could have gone through with it. But not with this face. Not with this face looking at him.
Harry felt sick and he hated himself as his hands began to loosen. Voldemort’s face was unreadable, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of it.
“Yes,” the teen croaked quietly, his voice breaking. Tom’s eyes flickered into focus. “Yes,” Harry repeated, his eyes looking back into Riddle’s. “I have dreamt of a room with a fireplace.” His fingers were loosened completely now, and only his fingertips rested against the pale skin.
Voldemort’s expression changed briefly, and Harry felt his last bit of control break. Through all his self-loathing and doubt, he pressed his lips forward onto the older man’s furiously, throwing all of the pent up emotions that had encumbered him since that day in the Hogwarts courtyard. He finally allowed himself to feel the other lips against his and he grew dizzy.
Without warning, Tom gripped one hand on the back of Harry’s neck and the other on the young wizard’s arm, pushing him away and spinning them both around so that now it was Harry who was crushed against the wall. Tom restored the kiss with a fervor, and this time, Harry returned it just as desperately.
Their lips wrestled with one another, and when Tom’s tongue dipped into his mouth, Harry tensed up and groaned. The battle came into their mouths and Harry felt his hands move of their own accord. The slid down the older wizard’s chest and he fumbled with the buttons, wanting to feel more skin. He unbuttoned the top few and slipped his hands onto the flesh of the man’s collarbone.
Tom couldn’t restrain a soft moan when Harry’s hands slid into the top of his shirt, and he let his own fingers trace the contours of Harry’s face before they entangled themselves in the boy’s raven hair. He opened his eyes to see that Harry’s were shut tightly, and he pressed his tongue deeper into the teen’s mouth, determined to feel every bit of it.
When Harry’s hands trailed up to the Dark Lord’s face, Tom broke of the kiss involuntarily and stood stock still, their foreheads together, and Harry’s delicate fingers began to feel every detail of his face.
Harry’s eyes were open now, however half-lidded, and he was staring curiously into Tom’s eyes. The pads of his thumbs traced the man’s high cheekbones and then ran over his forehead, shifting past his ears and dropping back down to his neck.
Riddle’s eyes had fallen close through this, and he took in a deep breath, leaning forward to capture Harry’s lips in one last kiss. This time it was tender and soft, and he pulled away after it, leaving only his right hand resting on the side of Harry’s neck.
The jade-eyed wizard’s hands fell away and he shut his eyes with a sigh when Voldemort let his palm cup Harry’s cheek for a moment.
When the Dark Lord finally pulled his arm away, Harry kept his eyes closed.
“When you go out the door, turn left,” Tom said softly, his whisper barely audible even in the silence of the room. “The opening at the end of the hall is where the wards drop. You may apparate there. I suggest you do so quickly, lest one of my Death Eaters see you.”
Harry leaned against the wall still, his body unable to move. Even now, his eyes remained closed. “I...” he managed to say lamely, his hoarse voice trailing off.
“Go, Harry,” Voldemort said roughly. Harry heard the rustle of fabric and listened quietly as Tom descended the stairs at the back of the room. He waited until he could no longer hear him before he opened his eyes, and then, he simply stared at the wall.
His brain refused to work, and though he wanted more than anything to think, he could do no such thing at the moment; so he stepped away from the wall, with difficulty, and opened the door to the room, not looking back.
Without any more thoughts, he turned left and ran.
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You have no clue how much I enjoyed writing this chapter.
Mwahaha.
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