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Weapon	By : uqui Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 105432 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 26
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.

Chapter List
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13/07/2012

Thank you to SuryaPrakash for the betaing. If there are mistakes, they are my fault.

Thank you to everyone who rated. I'm very happy that people are enjoying the fic, and I fervently hope that they continue to enjoy the fic.

Goldpen – Narcissa is not so much delusional as badly timed. If she was trying this rebellion against any other Dark Lord, Grindlewald for example, she’d be a shoo in for victory. She’s not though and she won’t listen to the people who have tried to tell her this. Thank you for the review

Unneeded – Thank you for the review. :)

Weapon LXXVI Those Who Are Defeated

"Where were you?" Blaise hissed, dragging Millicent into a disused classroom.

She squealed but quickly calmed when she recognised the voice. "Where was I when?"

Blaise looked disbelieving. "At Halloween!" He said in a long suffering tone.

Understanding flashed across her face. "I don't know," Millicent said truthfully as she sat down on one of the desks. "It doesn't matter though. Magstine is safe." She was not a beautiful girl, she knew that. Her father would have said heavy boned but she was more honest with herself. She was overweight and unattractive, but in that moment she showed such serenity that Blaise was surprised.

"He accepted your apology?" There was no hiding his genuine interest.

Millicent snorted and the moment was over, "Of course not." Somewhere, deep in her soul she had known it was a hopeless cause even before she apologised but she had been driven to try something, anything to protect her sister.

"How can you be sure then?"

Millicent looked at Blaise, really looked. In the past few months he'd seemed calm and controlled but she could see now his rising fear. He was well presented, he always was but around the edges Blaise looked a bit frayed. His perfectly plucked eyebrows were no longer razer edged and his clear nail polish was chipped. Superficially he was composed as always but he was waiting for the axe to fall. "We are Slytherin," Millicent began, feeling obligated to answer his question as well as she possibly could. "We wait to take revenge and if we can't strike at them because they are too powerful or out of our reach, we will strike at something they hold dear. I know Magstine is safe, Zabini because I have never been out of his reach."

"That's not possible!"

She smiled gently. "It is. We should have thought about Draco's request further. We assaulted The-Boy-Who-Lived, the only person known to have survived an Adava Kedrava. Why the hell did we believe we could do what others could not?"

"We weren't meant to kill him."

"No, we were meant to do far worse against someone so powerful we can't even begin to see his power. If it was such an easy job, why didn't Draco do it himself?"

Blaise nodded though his agreement was reluctant.

"Blaise," Millicent said softly and there was a note in her voice that he had to listen to. "Make peace with yourself and live as best you can. What will happen, will happen, and neither of us had the power to do anything to stop it. The best we can do is be accepting and to be true to who we are.

"If he's going to kill us, he will do it. If he's going to torture us, again, he will do it and we can't stop him. And if he wants to forget the entire thing happened, then that's what he will do."

"You make it sound like we should just give up," the young man accused.

"Not give up," Millicent said. "Giving up implies that we have a chance to fight. We don't Blaise and the sooner you realise that, the better off you will be. We have no chance to fight him off. We have no chance to persuade him and I honestly don't think anyone could stop him, not Draco, not Dumbledore, not even the Dark Lord. It doesn't matter that Draco asked us to do it, in the end we did it, Blaise, and we will have to take responsibility for that." She slipped off the desk and moved to the door.

"Make peace with yourself," she said before opening the door. "That way, no matter what happens, there will be no regrets." She slipped out of the door, leaving Blaise alone in the class room, staring at the closed door.

Harry swooped lazily through the air. The game, Gryffindor's first Quidditch game of the year, was going about as well as he expected and while they weren't leading, they were keeping in touch. Against Ravenclaw's team, the newness of Gryffindor's showed. He'd trained them as much as he could but there were little flaws in the way his Chasers worked together and those flaws were enough for the more experienced Ravenclaw team to take advantage of. Still, when he caught the Snitch, that would give them victory.

He smiled. There had been a small protest at his playing Seeker but it had been dealt with rather efficiently. It should have been anticipated that someone would have objected to him and he would have thought it would have been the Slytherins, but instead it was some rule happy Ravenclaw who had raised the protest. Harry's N.E.W.T.s had been awarded, so technically he had graduated from Hogwarts. And if he graduated, then he couldn't be playing on team. There had been no malice with the protest, Harry had sensed that, but there had been a bit of a desire to remove the best Seeker on any team. Harry had been angry before he recognised it as just school level competition. Nothing more and once he'd recognised that, he'd been able to smile and laugh and point out that while he may have been awarded his N.E.W.T.s, he had not yet graduated from Hogwarts and was enrolled as a Sixth Year student engaged in Mastery Studies. Once the fact he was still enrolled was confirmed the Ravenclaws had rather shamefacedly dropped the protest.

Of course, now that they were playing and leading the third game of the Quidditch Season, they probably thought that their protest had been unnecessary. Harry chuckled to himself, protest or not, he fully intended to win this game. But he wanted his new team to get as much practice in a real situation as they could, so he was also letting the game extend as much as possible.

He hadn't used any power to find the snitch but he could still feel that it was down near the crowds, probably hiding close to the grass. It didn't matter. Harry wove backwards and forwards, ignoring the way Cho followed him. She probably figured he'd see the Snitch first... which was true but how she thought she could out manoeuvre him for it was something else. Eh, that was her problem.

It was a nice enough day to fly. The sky was overcast but there was no smell of rain so the air was crisp and clean and cool on the skin. Flying on his broom was good but it wasn't as good as the feeing he got when he could use his animagus form. Harry shook his head before he could follow that thought through to conclusion. It just left him aching and besides, none of that was the point for now.

When he had visited his beloved at Halloween, apart from making love and him killing the Muggles and healing up the last damage of a nasty little cut to his beloved's ribs, they had discussed quite a few things but Lord Voldemort had also given him a few things; a wand, some blood, and peace. He smiled. He was obviously in a poetic mood to think of the last as something that could be given, even if it was true. His beloved had been patient all year, last year, and had waited until Harry was ready. He'd kept the Muggles for him. He'd known all along what Harry would eventually need and he'd been patient until Harry himself was ready. For a man who usually took what he wanted when he wanted, he had been remarkably tolerant. And by the very actions taken, the deaths and the blood and the whole hearted understanding and soft love and acceptance, Harry's heart had taken a measure of peace.

Which left the two other items to consider. The day after he'd returned, he'd spent a long time looking at the wand. It was not for him. He'd known that immediately, though he'd also sensed his feather in it, along with the dragon blood and the whisper of serpents'. Voldemort had briefly shared his mind with Harry to show his lover how the wand had been created but Harry didn't have any further idea what it should be used for. He shared Voldemort's belief though that it would be necessary. Oh well, he would find the one the wand chose and then they would have a better idea of why it was necessary.

And if anything, the blood was a bit more of a mystery. :We will tell you when it's needed,: the Shadows said suddenly, their voice almost sleepy.

:You could always tell me now,: Harry said with a soft smile and the merest pulse of power for them.

:And spoil the surprise? Don't be silly,: they chided. :Just keep it close to you.:

Harry shook his head bemused. As much as he was curious, it was not worth forcing them to answer, especially not when they seemed to be having fun. He could play their little games every now and then.

Speaking of games... :I think it's time to end this match, don't you?:

The current score was 340-210 in Ravenclaw's favour. His team had done well, but they needed more practice. A loss would teach them that as well but a loss went against his pride. Green eyes narrowed as Harry looked towards Cho. She was hovering on his right side, a few metres up. "Are you ready?" He asked casually.

"What do you mean?" There was a note of confidence in her voice. With the score what it was, it soon wouldn't matter even if he caught the snitch and she was feeling a small kernel of relief in her stomach. Playing against Harry was never easy.

"To catch the snitch," Harry said with a smile.

"I'm always ready," Cho replied.

"That's good." Without waiting for another answer or giving any further warning Harry dived. It took a moment for Cho to realise he was serious and with a shout she set off behind him, already knowing that she had been duped by his easy conversation. Still until the snitch was captured, she had to try.

In the end it wasn't much of a competition and to those who had been watching Harry all game, he pulled off the move with an almost inhuman grace, flying through the air as if he had wings. He was beautiful and with a move that skimmed preciously close to the ground but showed off Harry's complete control, he snatched the snitch out of the air before pulling his broom up to swoop over the crowd, holding the snitch high in victory.

A 340-360 score in their favour was not the most flattering of score lines, but it was at least a victory. Harry hoped the team could see the lesson though and would work harder on becoming a team, rather than individual players because there was no way in HELL he was losing the next game, Slytherin versus Gryffindor, even if they hadn't learned the lesson.

Draco ran one perfectly manicured nail down the page as he read. He'd deliberately pushed aside his feelings or else every time he thought about why he was stuck in the library, he saw red and it took precious time to calm down.

That low down, scum, Gryffindork had dared to put a spell on him; the Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy. He had known something was off, every moment of every day, he had known that there was something not quite right. His subconscious had been screaming at him. Over summer, it had been easy to ignore, with his Mother's training and for the first bit of this school year, when he had been trying to recruit, the small nub of disbelief had been attributed to other factors. But all the time, his mind had been trying to tell him that Harry Potter had dared to put a spell on him.

So that's how he had found himself, almost every spare moment in the library, looking up methods of breaking spells. It would have been kinder to oblivate him, but the slimy Gryffindor hadn't even had the courage to do that. No, instead he'd gone for something else. The instant he had realised there was a charm on him, the exact knowledge of what was wrong had rushed into his head. He remembered hitting the Gryffindork with an Avada Kedrava and he remembered the little talk they had had near the end of last year.

The arrogance of the boy astounded him and for a moment Draco had to breathe deeply to calm down again. He remembered the whispered spell 'Solmemorate,' but he could not find any counter charm. What was perhaps more worrying, was that he had yet to find the charm itself in any of the books available. He'd tried writing to his mother, but he had been unable to actually write anything. He'd persisted and had sent off the missive in the hope that she would sense what was wrong and send back something which may help. As a Sixth Year he had limited access to the Restricted Section but he still couldn't find the charm.

The Gryffindork had definitely done something to get the results he had, and now he was pouncing around supposedly studying his maters. It was enough to make anyone want to scream! Didn't anyone else see it? See the guile, the pure animal cunning? Or did everyone just see their golden boy and were besotted with the thought of a saviour? With the amount of progress he had been making with recruiting, he was beginning to see that most people had wool stuffed between their ears! And these were meant to be the future elite of the wizarding world.

Draco shuddered and continued looking through the books as he searched for answers.

Severus could remember Dolohov greeting him quite warmly, which should have been his first warning. Antonin was the Dark Lord's creature, and was the Dark Lord's creature so completely and devotedly that it was rumoured he had executed his own daughter at Lord Voldemort's command and that he had done it without the slightest hesitation. Antonin was not warm to anyone.

And he could remember them chatting almost amicably in a small Muggle-looking establishment, which should have had his every sense of preservation screaming at him. When would a ranking Death Eater like Dolohov be caught dead in a Muggle establishment? Especially after having been freed from Azkaban. Though that was part of the reason Snape had agreed to meet him there. All the former prisoners had been lying very low, but Antonin had said they needed to speak, and that request had been reinforced by a pulse from the Dark Mark. It was not Dolohov who wanted speak but the Serpent Lord.

But none of the warning signs had registered to the Potion Master and he'd stupidly thought he was still in control, which was why he was now lying on a very cold stone floor, his ears ringing so much he couldn't hear, his head spinning with vertigo and his vision so blurry as to be useless. And that said nothing about the pain. Every nerve ending seemed to be on fire and the cold of the stone was actually a blessing. The sections of skin that were in contact with the stone were yearning for more and they felt good.

The only thing he was grateful for was that the Shadows had yet to pipe up, but he could imagine them and even though they couldn't smile, he could see their smug, knowing smile, and hear the phrase 'We told you so' whispered in that soft gentle voice they sometimes used when they wanted to be their most annoying. It was only a matter of time.

There was another magical shift, and Snape judged that to be about the fifth... or maybe it was the sixth... Darn it... he was so turned around he couldn't even keep track of the small stuff. The way he fell to the floor was nothing special except that this time, the floor felt like stone but seemed a smooth freezing red. And someone put their foot between his shoulder blades and held him down. It really was unnecessary. He hadn't planned on getting up. Whoever they were, they felt like a mountain!

On the whole it wasn't the pain and the disorientation that scared Severus. It was the silence. The red masked Death Eaters who had bound and picked him up, after they had stunned him had been silent. Even Dolohov had been quiet and they'd all moved as if they had practiced this many times before. They probably had, Snape realised morosely. While many witches and wizards had been killed to get a point across, others had simply vanished. The team that had man-handled him through five or six magical transferences were probably responsible for that and thus with the amount of practice they no doubt had, they didn't need to talk.

As he slowly collected his thoughts, using his Occulemency skills to literally force his mind into order, he became aware of the smell. The red icy floor below him was the exact shade of air dried blood and as he was pushed further down, the pressure in the centre of his back never letting up, the Potion Master could tell that the smell, that cloying, coppery scent was coming from the floor. It was not only the exact shade of blood there was a very good possibility that it was blood. How was it being held frozen though? Even as his mind asked the question, he ruthlessly shoved it aside. It really didn't matter.

"Ah, Severus, so good of you to join us."

"I am your loyal servant," Snape said as if there was absolutely nothing wrong.

It didn't seem possible but the foot pressed down harder and the Potion Master felt his ribs grate but he refused to cry out.

"Now, now," there was amusement in the Dark Lord's chiding. "Severus has given me years of service, so perhaps we should let him up." It wasn't a suggestion and Snape felt hands grasp his arms and haul backwards until he was almost hanging between the Death Eaters holding him. He didn't even bother to try to get his feet under him.

From his new vantage, the scene he could see what about what he had expected. The Lord Voldemort was seated in his throne, which was flanked by Dementors and had several serpents coiled around it. He looked very regal, very grand and that was just the physical impression. To magical senses he was even more over powering and for a moment Snape's eyes focused and he wished they hadn't. He knew the Dark Lord could see magic. He couldn't, but he like most wizards had some sensitivity and the Serpent Lord was not hiding his presence at the moment. It was painful in its own way.

"I do not understand, my Lord," he forced himself to say. He knew what was happening, but his mind forced him to try to find out why. His chances of escape were nil, and Snape was surprised at himself that he didn't feel anything at that knowledge.

A long fingered white hand snapped upwards, a scrap of paper held loosely between two fingers. "Perhaps not," Voldemort murmured with a half-smile and a small gesture.

Severus couldn't fight as the Death Eater's fixed manacles on his wrists and ankles. He was still too weak.

"You were my spy," the Dark Lord said softly as he watched on. "You were a very good spy, Severus, don't ever doubt that. Your fellows doubted your loyalty, I know you know that. They were always leery of your ability to play both sides, but I always knew where your true loyalty was. I watched, and you knew I watched, but I never doubted. You never openly proclaimed anything, you were too clever for that and I know, even now, you are questioning, you are calculating and you are trying to work out exactly where you made that misstep.

"This!" He waved the paper again and Snape realised it was a clipping from The Daily Prophet. "This is your mistake, Severus. Most would just look upon it and see the names and think nothing more. In fact, that's what most of my followers thought. They saw the names they considered it nothing more than a list of the wanted. I saw more. I saw your betrayal, your choice."

The Dark Lord's voice took on a disappointed note, one of a father who was reprimanding a son for failing a task that should have been within their ability. "What have I not given you, Severus? What promise have I broken to you?" His voice was soft, but Snape recognised the compulsion in the tone.

The Potion Master sighed. "I have only ever asked you for one thing," he said quietly. "And on that you failed," he added, ignoring the outrage he could feel from the Death Eaters who had for the most part taken up positions against the pillars.

"You still mourn for her?"

"Always."

The Dark Lord's visage took on a considering aspect and the paper fluttered to the floor as he touched his finger tips to his lips. "You know as well as I do that she would never have allowed it."

Most of the Death Eaters listening were lost. They knew whatever their Lord was discussing with his former Potion Master was of great importance, but they had no sense of the events. The Dementors didn't care. They were here for effect and the serpents were calmly sleeping in the presence of Xatarass.

"It doesn't matter," Snape said.

"You are being remarkably accepting."

"You have made up your mind," Severus stopped himself from putting an honourific on the sentence.

"Yet you are not protesting that I am mistaken."

Severus lowered his head to hide his rather self-depreciating smile. He should be unmanned with fear, quivering or at least fighting the bonds and the situation he found himself in. In the past, when he had pictured this happening, he had always imagined he'd fight to the death but now that he was in the position he'd feared for so long, he was collected and calm. It was probably scaring some of the Death Eaters and for that Snape was almost amused. He may not appear afraid, but Snape could feel, inside that he was screaming. He knew full well the Dark Lord was at his most dangerous when he seemed calm. Voldemort was currently amused by his posturing and that did not bode well for him. Somehow, he had to anger the Dark Lord. That was his only hope for a quick death. Placid acceptance would give amusement for so long but after that...?

"You have made up your mind," Snape repeated.

There was no warning, no shifting or the meeting of eyes to announce the attack but the Potion Master stiffened, clenching his body tense as Voldemort's mind ruthlessly reached towards his defences. The Dark Lord was a true master Legilimens, eye contact helped, but he only needed a glimpse of their eyes when he was familiar with the mind he was attacking.

He wanted Severus broken. The attack was lightning fast and brutal. It was stabbing motions like the thrusts of a sword into flesh, each one, if it hit a vital point, was perfectly capable of killing. But the Serpent Lord wasn't interested in killing he was interested in causing pain, in striping away the Potion Master's defences so that he could see every thought.

Severus already knew what the Dark Lord would find, given enough time. He could hold out for a day, a week, a month, he wasn't sure how long but in the end, as galling as it was to admit, his mind would be laid bare and everything he'd ever seen or done, felt or feared would be given up to a man who would have no qualms about using any of the information. He could be rebuilt and programmed, or more likely he would be made to scream, humiliated and debased.

"You always go about this in the most inefficient way."

Snape couldn't stop a jerk of surprise at the feminine voice. The only female voice he'd expected to hear in the Dark Lord's stronghold was Bellatrix's deranged laugh. He couldn't turn, but he knew with absolute certainty that this was someone else... someone not human.

"And there is a simpler way?" There was a hint of interest in Voldemort's voice but strangely not absolute agreement.

A small hand danced over the Potion Master's face from behind, delicately stroking one cheek and under his chin before drawing back and resting gently on his shoulder. "He would make such a yummy meal, and if I give him just a tiny bit of blood, his mind will be mine."

"No."

Severus watched in interest as the serpents around the Dark Lord's throne reacted to the tone. Instantly they woke up, and their tongues began sampling the air. There was the flash of yellow eyes and the rising of crests as the Serpents began rearing upwards. It was most disconcerting to see the Eyes of a Basilisk and to realise that you had then taken another breath... and another. Eyelids, Snape berated himself as he forced his attention back to the dialogue, ignoring the way another serpent, larger than the others reared up from behind Voldemort's throne.

The woman, whoever she was, was not intimidated and just laughed. "I see you are embracing your Serpentine aspects," she commented in her musical voice. "But you won't accept what will make this so much easier. I can have every secret he has exposed in under five minutes and you persist in doing this the hard way." There was, beneath the musical cadence of her voice, scorn but it was well covered by a veneer of amusement.

"I am not interested in his secrets," Voldemort returned. "I already know everything I need to and for this case, my dear, the hard way, as you put it, is so much more pleasurable. I do not care about whatever twisted logic my dear Potion Master has used to convince himself to betray me. It doesn't matter. All I care about is causing him pain. And I will cause him pain."

Snape knew he was the only one who heard it, the woman's whispered words. "And that is why you will lose," before she smiled up at the Serpent Lord as if nothing was wrong. Raising her voice she said the next as she walked around Severus, her well-manicured fingernails morphing into short claws that traced out a thin bloodline over his skin. "As you wish, my Lord Voldemort," she said easily, bringing one finger to her lips to taste the single drop of blood there. "But it's such a pity, he does taste so wonderful."

"My dear, forgive me, but my servants should be enamoured of me, I do not need them enamoured of you."

Severus realised the woman had to be a vampire as she leaned back and laughed and the part of his mind that was still working, despite the futility realised that logically, there was only one vampire she could be. If The Order had an agreement with a Vampire, and the Dark Lord had an agreement with a Vampire, this was not going to end well.

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