Lord of Shadows Arc, Book One: Prince of Darkness

Title: Lord of Shadows Arc, Book I: The Prince of Darkness
Chapter Two:One Step
Author: Christine C, aka Jazz Coyote. Not to be confused with Christine of “Unlikely Beginnings” fame, though that’s a cool story, too. . .
Beta: Greenves,ves, the Amazing.
Ratings: This chapter, PG for swearing, and a tad of icky-ness. Overall NC-17
Pairings: Eventual DM/HP, RW/HG, GW/FW (Twincest), others. . .
Warnings: Dark!Harry, Scared-as-hell!Draco, Surprisingly-Tolerant!Ron, rampant symbolism, perceived OoC, implied self-mutilation, eventual sap, fluff, sex, swearing, and, once Rowling publishes the next book, AU. . . should I go on? Oh yeah, incest, slash, het, . . .No non-con, but who knows, there might be character death later on. . .Book 2 will have some OCs. . . I think that might be it. . .oh yeah, way near the end (long way away), some MPREG, but I set up for it real early, you’ll prolly forget I did so by the time it happens. . .or maybe not. . . I might not decide until later . . .

Notes: Later on will be some Twincest, so watch out. . . this starts out kinda lighthearted but if you read the Prologue, you know it won’t stay that way. It does get darker. This is the beginning of something looong. Covers years of their lives. Reviews make me write faster, so whatever you think, lemmee know.
FOR THIS CHAPTER: A bit of icki-ness. . . but I think you can handle it ^_^
Disclaimer: Malfoys are sexy, Potters are too, Rowling owns all, please do not sue.

Summary: for the Arc? Impossible. For Book I—basically, Draco gets some bad news, becomes desperate, things happen, gahh. . .This chapter—Draco gets some bad news, and goes into "damage control" mode
LAYLA--> Glad you like!
FAUXWEN--> Ya know, I coulda sworn I'd fixed that. . .
SAK-->I'm gonna start using some other material soon, but I needed some way for the characters to ezplain for themselves what they were thinking "at the time" without totally bogging down the story. Glad its working!
KEVIN-->Heh, I like the juicy stuff too, but, we're all gonna have to wait a bit. But I promise, it's coming!
OX KING-->Like, as in Ox King's Best of the Best?! Or Chichi's dad? or both? Awesome! I am trying to keep some balance here. Harry is rather dark, angsty, in deep psychological straits, but he's too practical to wallow in it. Self-pity serves no one, and wastes time. We'll see later on just how bad off he is, but he's kinda decided not to mope about it until he can afford to, which isn't now. At the same time, there is that hope he clngs too, even if he can't articulate it. I hope you enjoy what follows (this chapter and those to come).
JENY--> Thanks!
MISS LESLEY-->I see you are a Slytherin through and through. One thing that's kinda bugged me is that the Slytherins are supposed to be all clever and cunning, and yet they keep ending up with their feet in their mouths. If you're truly a Slytherin, then "calculating" will be a trait as well. Glad you like the knife and foreshadowing. It's not so much that things aren't black and white, as much as black and white are poor metaphors for what's really going on. Darkness and Light, sure, but these have nothing to do with Evil and Good. There actually will be a bit of Light/Dark symbolism (much later on), but not used in the usual manner. There is hope for Lucius, is an almost Deus ex Machina way, though not in the way you're hoping. Power too, but again, not where you're seeing it. As for "Dumbledork". . . no, but yes. Sort of . . .outgrowing him. . .
EVERYONE--> I've decided to update sooner than planned. I've gotten four chapters written (4 is over 20 pages long!), and am working on 5. I will not be able to update so soon. . . ever again, but since you reviewd so well, here's your reward. Yes, Harry will be back in chapter 3. I just needed some things to happen here. And beware the ICKYNESS!!!heehee

Bon Appetit!
______________________________________________________________________________
From The Space Between: The Correspondences of Harry Potter, Vol. I

Dear Harry,

Well, I won’t tell you to be careful about your secret visitor, since I know you won’t listen to me anyway. Having received your last owl, the Order has started a pool— Neville’s keeping the book —on who on the list you gave us it could be. I won’t tell you who has placed bets on which names, I will only say that personally, I agree with your assessment in that area. As for any of those names, though, the “Why” escapes me. If I’m right, however, it will net me twenty Galleons. I’m not sure what to hope for. I’m sure you understand.

I’m glad this person has been able to keep you company when Ron and I couldn’t. Dumbledore isn’t worried, or at least, says he’s more worried about your visitor than he is about you. He’s been cooking something up with the twins, but neither of them wants to talk about it . I think our headmaster knows who your visitor is—he’s the only one who hasn’t put any money down on a name. But whenever we pester him, he only smiles and says that this person poses no threat to you so don’t worry.

We will of course keep asking him, but I think it’s almost a point of honour with him. He says we’ll most likely find out before summer is out, and until then we should focus on all the good things this person is doing for you. He always looks rather pointedly at Ron at this point, which confirms both yours and my guesses.

I will write again soon.
Love
Hermione

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco sat alone in his room. It was a few nights after July fourth and his mind was only just beginning to recover from the shock of what had happened that night. He had not been to visit Harry since that night, so greatly had he been shaken. He shivered as his mind journeyed back once more.

That night his mother had hosted a Death Eater gathering, the second since his father had been imprisoned, the first since he’d returned home from school. Always before, Draco had been strictly forbidden from participating in such meetings, but this time his presence had been requested. He supposed it was because he was to substitute for his absent father. He was only half right.

He hadn’t been too surprised to see Voldemort there, and when questioned about his activities during the summer, was able to answer truthfully: “I am spying on Potter to find a decent weakness to exploit so I can get revenge for his getting Father arrested. Before the summer is out.”

He was relieved at the Dark Lord’s obvious approval, but had not expected the finger that caressed his cheek, nor the sudden pressure of Voldemort’s lips upon his.

“I see you haven’t told Draco of his destiny,” he had rasped.

“Wha-what?” Draco had whispered weakly.

Narcissa smirked. “His father and I thought to leave that honour to you, sir.”

“Ahhh.” The Dark Lord looked pleased, in a smug, evil-dictator way. “Well then Draco, haven’t you wondered why we’ve never spoken of your receiving the Mark?” He smirked darkly as Draco nodded, confused and not a little worried. “It’s because you’ll never need it. You see, when you were a year old, I performed the first part of a certain ritual on you. This ritual changed you so that as you grew, you developed the means to bear my children.” As he said this, Voldemort placed his talon-like hands over Draco’s abdomen. “It takes fifteen years for that part be completed. Once fifteen years have passed, the ritual must be completed, or else the organs within you will start rotting away, which of course would be quite deadly. At the completion of the ritual, you will be mine, bonded to me as my consort, and soon, you will give me my heirs.”

Draco’s mind was staggering at this point, so shocked and horrified that it was only barely functioning. His survival instincts chose that moment to kick in and take control .

“I’m honoured of course, sir,” he replied, noting what seemed to be relief in his mother’s eyes. “Might I have a chance to study this ritual? Perhaps if I have some understanding of it, I may be able to prepare for it properly.”

There were some tense moments when it seemed as if Voldemort was probing his mind. But, since Draco’s mind had nothing whatsoever to do with this request, the Dark Lord found nothing unusual or unexpected. He stepped back with a cold smile that never reached his eyes.

“Your father told me what a good student you were. Very well, Narcissa, you know what books to give him. Perhaps he would even enjoy preparing some of the potions we will need.”

Draco’s instincts prompted his mouth into a smile. “I can’t wait, sir.”

* * *

That had been several nights before, and now Draco sat alone by the window, books laid out carefully on his bed. He had read quite a bit in the past few days, and two chains of logic lay before him like the weighty shackles of the damned.

The first went something like this:

He really didn’t want to be bonded to Voldemort.
He had to be bound to someone, or he would die.
He really didn’t want to die either.
So he would have to be bound to someone else.
The Ritual had to be completed in the language it was started in.
The Ritual had been started in Parsnguengue .
The only other person that he knew of who could speak Parseltongue was Harry Potter.
Therefore, he had to be bonded to Harry Potter, if he wished to escape both Voldemort and death.

The second chain looked like this:

He needed Harry to pretty much marry himthe the last day of this coming October—four months away.
Harry had every reason to hate him, and even more reason to distrust him.
He had to gain Harry’s trust.
Harry was so dangerous because he had nothing to lose. But there were some things that would make him take a person seriously.
Sirius Black was innocent, but it couldn’t be proved.
Harry would be overjoyed if Bla nam name was cleared, even if it was post mortem.
Draco was in a unique position to see Black’s name cleared.
This would cost Draco his family, but they would be lost anyway if he decided to die.
Harry’s birthday was on the thirty-first of July

Draco sighed. He didn’t like that he’d be at the mercy of people he’d publicly ridiculed for years.He didn’t like the fact that he was now dependent on Harry for his survival. Hell, he didn’t even know if Harry was into males. And since when did he think of him as Harry?

He thought back on their earlier, written conversations. The person he’d gotten to know in Little Whinging was not the person he’d always assumed Harry to be. He’d found himself fascinated with the boy—no, the young man—who pruned bushes and washed dishes while casually explaining his godfather’s innocence, or revealing his regrets about himself and “Malfoy.” That had really surprised Draco—Harry regretted the way things were between them? How strange. How unexpected. How disturbing the way it had made Draco’s chest constrict. And now that he thought about the Harry he now knew, he realised he might not mind so much having to spend time with him. Indeed, he was a feast for the eyes, and it was turning out, for the mind as well.

Draco sighed once more, swallowing his pride with a painful, but determined gulp. It seemed he had some preparations to make.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning sunlight glinted off the polished teak surface of Narcissa Malfoy's desk, and off each of the eighteen mirrors that adorned her office, the longest of which was mounted on the back of the door.

It was this mirror that she used three times a day for preening. Once after breakfast, once after lunch, and once right before tea. She was in the middle of her post-breakfast preen when the mirror tilted alarmingly askance. It was a moment before she had overcome her shock enough to see the unexpected face of her son.

"Draco, dear," she said, blinking her newly mascara-ed eyes rapidly. "It's not often I see you this early. What brings you?"

Draco smiled. "Other than wanting to see my ‘dear old mum?’" He sat in one of the chairs situated around her desk. "Business, mother."

Narcissa pursed her lips, intrigued. Draco had never expressed much interest in the business aspects of their lives, always having more of an appreciation for other things. This change was sudden. But, she mused, his life changed very drastically a few days ago. Maybe he's finally growing up.

She sat down in a seat opposite him, across the great desk. "Very well, dear. What business brings you from your studies?"

Draco sighed, looking past her, through the window that looked out over the rose garden. "I've been thinking, Mother. In about four months, I will be effectively married and therefore no longer staying here at the Manor. In the meantime, father is imprisoned—temporarily, I've no doubt—but at the moment? Let's be honest, Mother, the finances are suffering. Not greatly, but as the family finances. . . sag for lack of a better word. . .mine do as well. And with my impending bonding, I think I should go into this with the strongest financial standing I can get. Due to unfortunate timing, I don't think the family will have recovered by my birthday."

Narcissa nodded. The boy had a point—as painful as it was to acknowledge. Still, the fact that he was able to see their situation so clearly was a hopeful sign. "I sense you have come to some sort of a decision?"

Draco sighed, suddenly looking tired. "At the moment , my assets are a part of the Malfoy collective, under your and father's control. What happens to the whole of our finances effects my assets as well. For this reason, I ask that you formally release those assets with my name on them to my exclusive control. We'd have to do it anyway in a few months, and as things stand, the sooner the better."

Narcissa nodded again. She had been having similar thoughts in the past few days. Draco's acceptance of his impending bonding to their Lord, moreover his enthusiasm to actively enable it, spoke of a heretofore unseen maturity. Maybe they were both right, maybe this was the time to release him of all economic bonds to the family.

"Draco," she said. "Have you reviewed your portfolio lately? Do you know what is in your name and what isn't?"

Draco grinned wryly. "Yes, Mummy, I did do my homework this time." He drew several parchments from his robes. "My assets include the following stocks and money market accounts." He laid down one sheet. "I have a savings account at Gringott's, as well as a Charmed Credit Account which will activate on my next birthday." Another sheet. "Finally, I have a whole list of bonds and mutual funds, some of which are exclusively mine, others which I hold equally with the rest of the family. The latter, of course, I am not asking for at this time."

Narcissa picked up the sheets and reviewed them, nodding approvingly. Draco had indeed done his homework. The lists were orderly and precise, and left nothing out.

"Well, to be honest, dear, I’ve been having similar thoughts in the past few days, and seeing your maturity about this matter has helped me decide. I was planning on visiting your father today anyway, I'll get his signature on the necessary forms, then this afternoon we'll go to Mr.Gildinar’s and have this taken care of."

Draco sighed with relief. "Well then," he said, standing, "I'll disturb you no longer and return to my studies."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

While his mother was gone that morning, Draco had time to review his plans. The first part had gone much easier than anticipated. He had expected her to be at least somewhat suspicious—he was a Malfoy, after all. Perhaps it helped that he hadn’t actually told any lies. Merely an assemblage of completely true statements strung together into something less than representative of reality. Hopefully, his father wouldn’t think anything was amiss. If he didn’t, by evening he’d be quite ahead of schedule.

A tapping at his bedroom window roused him from his musings. He opened it, surprised to see an owl with two messages for him. Absently he opened a desk drawer filled with Hecate’s Own Owl Treats and scooped some out for the calmly waiting bird.

One letter was addressed with the distinctive handwriting of his mentor, Professor Snape, the other with the less familiar hand of Professor Dumbledore.

Deciding to save the best for last, he opened Professor Dumbledore’s missive first.


Master Malfoy,

While I know you have no inclination to heed any words of mine, I would be very remiss if I did not urge you to proceed upon your plans with the utmost caution. While I applaud your newly found courage, and certainly cannot fault your motives, I must caution that should you become even slightly suspect in your actions, the Cruciatus Curse is perhaps the best you can hope for. As you may have noticed, Voldemort does not take well to disappointment.

However, having said this, I will also inform you that you have many unexpected friends. They and I will be watching your progress, and are ready to assist when you ask. In the meantime, I ask that you keep in contact with Professor Snape. He is aware of your decision and is desirous to help you in any way possible. He is not what he seems. It should not seem unusual for the two of you to maintain correspondence.

With hope and new-found respect,

Albus Dumbledore

PS: Wizard’s Financial Weekly, Vol.586, June 3rd, pp. 11-19
PPS: Never mind how I know, your secret is safe.

Draco was surprised that the headmaster knew of his circumstances, but was heartened that the man seemed to be offering support. He had to bite back a yelp of surprise, however, when the letter spontaneously combusted, leaving a flurry of ashes except for the reference to Wizard’s Financial Weekly—but even as he watched, the handwriting shifted until it resembled his father’s hand.

“Well,” Draco admitted, “that was clever.” He then opened the other letter.

Draco,

Professor Dumbledore has sent a letter with this one. I am aware of its contents and the surrounding circumstances and, for once in my life, I completely agree with every single word he wrote. Moreover, in light of your recent decision, I trust you will not endanger my darker reputation. The entirety of Gryffindor House would suffer apoplexy if they ever learned I was anything less than “The Dark Lord’s Favourite Slave.” One hates to disappoint.

I await word from you.

Severus Snape

This letter too burst into flames as soon as he finished reading it. He glanced over at the patiently waiting owl.

Guess I’d better go read that article, he thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mr. Gildinar’s office was the definition of old world luxury. Thick Persian rugs covered hardwood floors, ebony furniture inlaid with mahogany, cherry, and maple with polished brass fittings and leather cushions. It was the sort of place designed to let visitors know its owner knew the value of a galleon.

Draco was pensively ensconced in Moroccan leather cushions, hands folded calmly in his lap, a steaming cup of Earl Grey resting daintily on a saucer on the gleaming surface of the desk before him. It had been a matter of a few signatures to shift control of the accounts to his control, and Gildinar was presently escorting his mother from the room, so that he and his new client might converse with utmost confidentiality. It was standard practice with all goblin owned financial services, so Mrs. Malfoy was neither surprised nor disconcerted at this shift in attention, and Mr. Gildinar’s escorting of her was simply a matter of being a gentleman in a lady’s presence.

The door snicked shut quietly behind the elder Malfoy, enclosing the younger boy and the goblin once more in a silent red-black chapel of capitalism.

“Well then”, Gildinar began, stopping by a side cabinet to decant some brandy for himself. “I should first reassure you that all conversations held in this office are strictly confidential. It matters not how you are related to any other clients, or they to you. Only with those accounts held in common, such as certain of your bonds and mutual funds, will information be shared. Otherwise, your parents will gain no knowledge of your affairs from me, nor from any of my colleagues.”

Gildinar sat behind his desk, opposite Draco, sampling the brandy with appreciation. His small, black eyes probed Draco, searching for reaction. But Draco, trained by the best, sipping his tea in turn, answered only with a smile and said, “It’s a good thing to know.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments, unblinking, each waiting for the other to twitch. Finally, the goblin grinned and, with a small chuckle, said, “Ahh, Mr. Malfoy, I think I shall enjoy working with you immensely.”

Draco allowed himself a small grin. “Onto business then?” he proposed.

Gildinar set the brandy aside. “Indeed, Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you?”

Draco made a show of studying one of the sheets on the desk between them.

“In the next week,” he said. “I’d like you to sell fifteen percent of my stocks in the following companies: Prince Charming Cosmetics, Crowley International, and Dion Fortune Fashions.” He paused as Gildinar made the appropriate notes.

“And what,” the goblin asked, “would you like to happen with the profits?”

Draco sighed, mentally double-checking his calculations.

“Put thirty percent into my trust fund. Hold the other seventy until July twenty-fourth .”

Gildinar continued with his notes, frowning thoughtfully. “That’s the day Three W Ltd is set to go public.”

“So it is,” Draco replied. “And that’s where I want you to put the remaining seventy.”

The goblin finished up with his notes, and reclined in his seat.

“I admit to curiosity, Mr. Malfoy. I was under the impression that you and the Weasleys were not on the best of terms.”

Draco smirked. “Come now, you yourself taught me my first lesson in business which was, if you recall: Never let personal life interfere with business.”

The goblin smiled in fond recollection as Draco continued.

“Here’s what I’ve observed in the twins,” he said. “First, as Wizard’s Financial Weekly noted, they are possessed with seemingly endless energy and ingenuity. Unlike Sorcerous Sport of several years ago, I doubt the Weasleys will burn-out. I’ve seen them in action, Mr. Gildinar, and they take a peculiar relish in what they do. It’s a game to them, and one they’ll never tire of.

“Second, despite their image of mediocrity and recklessness, I can tell you they are anything but. They’re really quite calculating, and their appearance is part of that. In truth, they’re skilled, thorough, devoted to maintaining high standards of quality, and are tireless in their search for new ideas. In short, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Ltd. is here to stay.

“And third, they’ve got connections all over the world. Between the people their eldest brothers know, and the people they’ve met through school, they have some incredible resources at hand. For instance, they’ve got an unbeatable marketing tool in Harry Potter.

“Put all these together and you have the makings of a strong, dynamic company that will last.”

As he finished, Draco once again lifted the saucer with its teacup, stirring the tea with the somewhat diffident air of one who is sharing specialised information with a specialist.

Gildinar sat back in his chair, nodding.

“Those are all very solid reasons, so I’m confident in your decision.” He frowned pensively. “And yet,” he said, “and yet I sense that’s not all, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco’s hands remained steady, but Gildinar noticed a flash of a shadow pass behind his client’s eyes.

“Ahh,” the goblin sighed. “Let me share something with you, Mr. Malfoy, something we goblins rarely discuss with those not of our kind, but in this case I feel is important for you to know.

“Goblins don’t run the magical world’s finances just because we’re clever and guarantee complete confidentiality. There are two other reasons. The first, that we are immune to the Imperius curse, and the second, that we can almost smell when we aren’t being told everything, or when there’s something more going on than what’s being presented. We always get all the information there is, which is why we’re so good when it comes to investment counseling.

“That being said, Mr. Malfoy, I’ve suspected you of ulterior motives from the moment you signed those papers earlier. There is something you’re keeping from your mother and, I suspect, from your father as well.”

Draco had, by this time, returned the cup and saucer to their place on the desk, concerned that his hands might start shaking. He sat with his legs crossed in a studiously casual pose, his hands resting lightly on his knee. Gildinar studied him as he spoke, impressed with the young man’s poise. There were cracks in the façade, of course—the faint twitching of a finger, a shift in the rhythm of his eye blinking. He would gain a finer control with age, but considering where the conversation was headed, he was doing very well.

“What I think,” the goblin continued, “based on what I know of you, your family, your history. . ., I’d say that something has shocked you into rather sudden maturity, something even more dramatic than your father being imprisoned. This shock has not only forced you to gain years more maturity than you had when last I saw you in January, but has put you in a position where you are now planning to change your alliances.”

As Gildinar watched, Draco's breathing deepened, and the tips of his fingers paled where they pressed into his knee. He was on the right track, it seemed.

“Not only have you separated your finances from the rest of you family’s, you have decided to invest in a venture supported by your supposed enemy and further, for the first time in my memory, voluntarily mentioned his name without showing signs of distaste.”

Draco’s jaw tightened. Gildinar continued.

“I don’t know what happened, nor do I wish to. I also remind you that this shall remain between you and I until your actions decide otherwise. At no time, before or after, will anyone get anything from me. But, Mr. Malfoy, you will not always be able to direct my every move, so I must work with a certain degree of freedom. If I am to adequately protect your assets, I must know if I am correct.”

Draco took a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh.

“You will not reveal anything to anyone?” he asked.

Gildinar nodded. “It’s in the fine print of the contract I signed with you earlier. Imperius may not work on us, but signed contracts have a similar effect.”

Draco took another deep breath. “You are correct,” he admitted.

The goblin waited a moment before responding. “You play your cards closely, Mr. Malfoy. That is good. I will keep my eyes open for appropriate opportunities, as well as yet unforeseen dangers. You’ve made a solid start, however, so I’m not unduly concerned as far as that goes. I expect the . . . change will be official sometime this summer?”

Draco nodded.

“Very well. I think that’s enough business talk for today. Finish your tea and let yourself relax. It wouldn’t do for your mother to notice any residual tension.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

From Dark Running: The Early Correspondences of Draco Malfoy, Vol. I

Professor. Snape,

In truth, I’m not sure where to begin this letter. So much has happened in the past week that certain parts of myself seem to have shut off-- the part of me that starts gibbering in mindless fear when I contemplate how easily this could all go wrong, and how horrid it could get. Or the part of me already infected with guilt and regret for what this will do to my family. Although I do not agree with their choices, I do love them, and it tears me to think of what might happen to them as a result of my actions.

But even these things are chained to the corners of my awareness by a strange focus which has come over me. All my concentration is bent toward one thing – survival. I have no doubt that (assuming my plans are successfull) when this is over I shall collapse into a useless puddle of spent nerves and overwhelming fear.

In the meantime, I can only think of how to gain the trust of someone I’ve made hate me for years, how to deceive an expert in deception, and how to survive at least until my birthday. The first part of my plans was successful earlier today when all financial assets in my name were transferred to my exclusive control. You may inform the headmaster that I took his advice and have ordered my broker to invest in 3W on the day they go public. It is my hope that this may help smooth things later on.

This reminds me. . .my broker, a goblin by the name of Gildinar, sniffed things out pretty quickly. Is it true that they find it impossible to violate the terms of a contract? I have one with him, ensuring his discretion, if this is true. But I’m uneasy in that at least three people know of my secret, and I haven’t told a soul. A secret isn’t much of a secret if people know about it. Of course I trust you, and strangely, Dumbledore as well (to a point, of course) . . . but, I suppose it’s the principle of the thing. How many people do know? Can they be trusted? What if someone slips?

And finally, have you any advise on how to deal with the Potter factor? Neither of us have ever made an effort to endear ourselves to him, but my life now depends on my ability to do so. I do have lines of communication open due to previous (now discarded) plans, and of course there is that token of sincerity I plan on giving him for his birthday. . . but will it be enough? And what about his friends? What can I do?

I should stop this rambling. I think it clear that I’m scared nearly witless, but I’m doing what I can. Any advice would be welcomed.

Yours,

Draco S. Malfoy

_____________________
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