Blood Ties.

Harry sat in silence, his eyes closed and his mind laid open like a book, pages here and there being carefully torn free and set aside. His hands rested atop his thighs as he waited, wondering when he would feel the transformation happen, trying to sense the parts of himself that allowed him to enjoy the touch of Voldemort's hands. Truly, that wouldn't bother him too much, since he knew this was necessary, but it was the way their magic mingled and quickened that troubled him. Were they really so much alike?

He heard Severus' voice, that soothing, gentling rhythm that he never would have expected from the man a year ago. His heart swelled with love, and he was greatly relieved to know that Severus would never be forced to see him debased before the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, Draco could not refuse to stand attendance on his deplorable acts, and Harry feared that it might shatter the bridge they'd forged together.

Thoughts of Draco led him to memories he lovingly explored before tearing them free of his mind and dropping them in the place that would hold them safe until the night was over. The tender kisses, softly spoken words and incredible, consuming passion were like balms to his fear and by the time they were all neatly tucked away, he was calm once more. If he must find and lose love to destroy Voldemort, then it was worth the cost.

"When you awaken, you will have closed off those chosen memories. They will be sealed in that vault in your mind, irretrievable until you hear the power word spoken by Draco. When I count to three, you will become the other. One...Two...Three."

Harry's eyes opened and he stretched, smirking at Snape and Draco with the look of the cat who's dined on the beloved canary.

"No shackles tonight, I take it?"

He rose and absently conjured a mirror, flexing his magical muscles in preparation for tonight's planned demonstration, and purely for the satisfaction he took from showing off. He scanned his wholly uninspiring black robes with a scowl and flicked his fingers, turning them a deep azure blue that set off the green in his eyes and pleased him.

"Are you done?"

The dry amusement in Draco's voice brought a grin to his lips and he banished the mirror in a shower of silver shards that vanished before they hit the floor, then turned with a mild shrug.

"Yes."

~~:~~

"Uncle, I believe I should take a new name now that I no longer care to associate myself with my blood traitor parents. What do you suggest?"

Harry was perched on a somewhat smaller throne beside Voldemort's, the size was essential in reminding Harry, and everyone else, that Voldemort was still the important one in the room. Since he hadn't expected even this gesture, Harry wasn't complaining. After all, the Dark Lord was his Master, even if they might be closer to equality than any of the other pathetic sycophants could ever hope to be.

"Samael. When I was a child, I dreamed of the angel of death, and I feared him. Once I learned of my power, I knew one day I would rule him."

Harry's lips curled and he slid from his throne to kneel at Voldemort's feet, pressing his brow to the creature's knee and purring low.

"I will be your Samael, Uncle. You will rule me and use my power as a flaming sword to devour your enemies. You need never fear death as long as I live to fight and die in your stead."

Voldemort hissed with pleasure and stroked his fingers through the unruly black strands, smiling coldly.

"Rise, Samael. You promised me a show."

Samael stood and moved behind Voldemort, draping himself over the back of his throne and resting one hand on the creature's chest, stroking him absently as he spoke.

"I shall show you the future we will build together, my Master. I will stand at your right hand, your most loyal servant."

The Death-Eaters stood back as a great swell of power rose in the center of the large room, swirling shadows and molding them, building until a pair of figures was formed from their inconstant substance. The torches dimmed and were snuffed, plunging the room into darkness, then a moon rose pregnant and smirking above the scene. The long, slender Dark Lord stood with the dark-haired servant at his right, both standing atop a hill looking out over an army. Werewolves, centaurs, witches, wizards and giants spread out before them in numbers unimaginable, each beast and human staring up to their lords with blood-lust shining in their eyes.

"They will be at your command, my Lord. The whole of the world will kneel at your feet."

As Samael spoke softly, the shadow beings knelt in a wave and bowed before the shadow Lord, chanting softly of their allegiance to him with voices low and reverent.

"With this army, and myself, standing behind you, you will take over the wizarding world and the Muggle world alike. You will be their god, ruling them all without rebellion. Your enemies will be crushed, set as examples to any and all who would oppose you."

The scene flickered and changed, showing the bodies of those in the Order, those others who were known to oppose the Dark Lord, twisted in inhumanity upon spikes. Tortured limbs warped and mouths opened in shrieks that filled the room, impossibly alive, even as some burned, some spilled their guts to dangle, and some bled without ceasing. Their pain was inconceivable, and yet they lived and endured their hell.

Voldemort studied this with a smile and a low slithering breath that voiced his sick pleasure.

"The Muggles will be your sport, your toys to do with as you wish. The Mudbloods will be wiped out, if it is your wish, or merely stripped of their stolen magic and given to you as gifts."

The scene changed once more to show Muggle men and women in slave camps, starved and broken, weeping as they begged for release from their torment. A couple were herded from their dingy cells and brought forward to stand before the real Voldemort, they seemed to see him and fell their their knees, reaching toward him and crying in voices that were cracked and dry. Then from nowhere, a beast burst forth and fell upon them, it was darkly-feathered and equipped with silver talons. It tore at them, spilling their blood and bringing forth their screams of agony, taking it's time in killing and devouring them, so that they were still crying out as it ate them.

"You will have all you want, my Lord. All you have longed for and more."

Samael flicked his hand and the scene vanished, the Death-Eaters stood still, staring at the center of the room for a long moment, then moved forward and stared up at the boy and their Lord.

"Yes. We shall bring forth the world of our choosing."

Voldemort guided Samael around and pulled him into his lap, arching his head back as the boy's tongue licked along the sharp curve of his jaw, a shudder running through his body.

"You trust me, Uncle?"

Voldemort's laugh was like the sound of a serpent slithering through ash and he nodded, looking down into those stormy green eyes, flicking his forked tongue over the boy's lips.

"Yes."

~~:~~

"Draco?"

Harry moved across their dorm room to the blond sitting at the end of his bed, staring down at his hands and weeping silently. He settled beside him, wondering if his touch would be welcomed or rebuffed, unsure what he could say or do to ease Draco's suffering.

"He trusts you. You play the game better than anyone, and he's wanted you since you destroyed him. Your power and his own greed has blinded him."

Draco sniffled softly after his words, which had been spoken in a low, icy tone that sent a shiver racing up Harry's back. He wasn't sure why this would make Draco cry, since it was exactly what they'd been hoping for all along.

"I'm using his weaknesses against him, Draco. Will you tell me what's wrong?"

Draco lifted his head, silver gaze hard and sparkling as he stared at Harry, trying to remind himself that this wasn't the man who pandered to Voldemort and touched him so adoringly. This was his Harry, not that twisted being that called it's self Samael.

"It hurts. Watching you change and go to him, seeing you on your knees. It sickens me to see you that way."

Harry flinched and looked down at his hands, licking his lips and shuddering with revulsion as he remembered shared kisses with Voldemort.

"I know. I'll be glad when this is over and he is dead. I'll be glad to shed this charade and be myself fully once more. But, until then...this is what has to be done."

Draco studied the beloved profile and felt tears prick once more at the mention of it being over, unable to see beyond Voldemort's destruction. What would his family do? Would he and Harry stay together, or would they drift apart without the constant fear and shared secrets to keep them together?

"I'm afraid...afraid of losing you once I'm no longer the only one in your life that you can turn to for comfort."

It pained him to be so honest, but with all the secrets around them, he didn't want any growing between them.

"Draco...I love you. Not because you're my only real friend at the moment, other than Severus, and not because we are trapped in this together. I love you because you challenge me, because you trust me, because you let me hold you close, and because you make me feel good, because when we're together, the memories don't seem so painful."

Draco blinked and sobbed before throwing himself at Harry, tumbling them both back on the bed and kissing him wildly. They held one another like that for breathless moments, then snuggled in close to let the pain of the last few hours drain off them.