Title: Windchimes And Rose Petals, Volume 1
By: Bridget McKennitt
Pairing: Primarily Snape/Harry. Other pairings, minor and major, include *Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Bellatrix/Severus, Cho/Neville, Harry/Theodore Nott, Harry/OMCs, Lucius/Narcissa, Narcissa/OMCs, Harry/Cho, Fudge/Umbridge, Draco/Scrimgeour*
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: Almost 14,000
Summary: Harry was about to have the dream life when he was attacked during his wedding. Now, four years later, he is out for revenge against those who wronged him.
Warning: Out of sequenced scenes, pairings listed above, blood, violence, non con, dub con, chan, swearing, hidden mpreg, and anything else that was shown in the Kill Bill movies.
Beta: angela_snape
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company are owned by J.K. Rowling and other companies. They are used here without permission, and for entertainment purposes only. No challenge or infringement upon the copyright is intended, nor should any be inferred.
Author's Notes: This is a retelling of the movie Kill Bill using the Harry Potter characters and mesh of both universes. Much of the dialogue and inner monologue are Tarantino's, formatted for this fic.
Harry fell back against the wooden paneled floor, sprinkled with trodden on rose petals, blood and purplish bruises on his face. The rest of his body, cloth in a blood stained torn white robe, fared no better. He struggled to sit up, but yellow stained fingers gently pushed him back down. Where was Ginny? Did they...was she...? Was the baby okay? He didn't know; he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.
His eyes darted to and fro wildly, trying to comprehend what just occurred, but the faces smirking from above kept his complete focus. The yellow stained fingers, with a folded white handkerchief, began to carefully wipe blood away on Harry's face. In the corner of the handkerchief there was an emblem of a green snake curled into an elegant S. The letters 'nape' followed. Harry sucked in a gulp of air, wincing at the pain that accompanied it, as his eyes trailed those fingers. That handkerchief.
When the cloth touched the tip of his chapped lips Harry couldn't help but flinch. Snape chuckled, the rich tremble of his laugh washing over Harry. "Do you find me sadistic? I bet I could heat a cauldron on your head right now. You know, Potter, I'd like to believe that you're aware enough even now to know that there's nothing sadistic in my actions. Well, maybe towards those other...imbeciles, but not you. No, at this moment, this is me at my most masochistic. Potter..."
"Snape, sir," Harry tried to speak but Snape overrode him.
"...it's your baby."
"Crucio!" Harry seized up, his body shuddering at the new onslaught of pain. His world soon fell into black oblivion.
Chapter One: 2
The Boy Who Lived pulled up in a big yellow truck on the opposite side of the street from a cheerfully blue painted house. He turned off the engine and stared at the serene looking house. The front yard was cluttered with toys and other playthings. A sign proclaimed 'The Longbottoms' prominently on a mailbox standing on the sidewalk.
He stepped out of the truck and made his way across the yard, careful to not step on any of the toys in his way. He knocked on the door politely, twice, and waited. Inside, a woman yelled, "Coming," and the door opened. "Thanks for coming so-" The Chinese woman broke off and her mouth dropped open as she stared at the man before her.
The Boy Who Lived soaked up Cho's stunned expression for a span of a breath or two before he reared his fist back and punched her in the face. Cho stumbled back and managed to block another of the man's punches before grabbing his arm and throwing him against a shelf full of clay vases; smashing the shelf and spilling the vases all over the floor as they shattered into many pieces. The man pushed himself up and kicked Cho, knocking her into a table and cracking the wooden furniture into two. He moved quickly, while she was still on the floor, and got her in a choke hold. He squeezed his arm across her neck harder and Cho wheezed, trying to smack the arm away.
Her other arm reached for something, anything, and discovered a metal rod. She grabbed it and knocked it backwards against the Boy Who Lived's head. He released her neck and she took in a gasp of air before kicking the man and running into the next room.
He got to his feet and followed her. A glint of light warned him just in time as Cho slashed a knife downward, narrowly missing his head. He ducked and dodged her as he slipped out his wand from his wand holster, rapidly transfiguring it into a knife and raised it up to parry her attack.
Cho thrust her knife forward as she growled out fragments of words. "Is that all you got!" She gripped her knife and stabbed it forward again at the Boy Who Lived, not breaking her stance. Through the bay window where they were, a yellow bus pulled up in front of the house. Cho glanced at it from the corner of her eye and bit her lip, glancing back at the Boy Who Lived who also stood rigid in his stance. A little boy, with creamy skin and a mop of dark hair, stepped off of the bus and headed towards the house.
Cho gazed at the Boy Who Lived, pleading with her eyes. He nodded briefly, and as the door opened, they both turned towards the little boy, weapons hidden behind their backs. The little boy stopped a foot inside the house staring openly at the chaos of the living room and the blood on the two adults' faces.
"Mommy, what happened?"
Cho forced a grin and her voice came out light. "Oh, sweetie you know that crup of yours? Well, he went and made a mess of things here." She raised her hand as the boy took a step forward. "Now don't come in here, sweetie. There's glass and things everywhere, and I don't want you to get hurt."
The boy changed the direction of his stare from the living room to the Boy Who Lived. "Who are you?"
"Nicky, this is mommy's friend that I haven't seen in a very long time. Say hi."
Nicky said nothing as he took in the older man's appearance. "Hello, Nicky. I'm Harry Potter. How old are you?" Harry, with his green eyes framed by askew glasses, smiled politely.
When Nicky didn't answer, Cho answered instead. "He's four years old."
"Four?" Harry bent down on his right knee. "You know, I had a son once. He'd be about four now."
"Nicky," Cho cut in. "I want you to head to your room and start doing your homework while mommy's friend and I have a little chat." Nicky risked a peek at Harry and Cho snapped her fingers, bringing back her son's attention. "Nicholas! In your room now."
As Nicky left the room, Cho turned to Harry. "You want a cuppa?"
Harry shrugged a shoulder. "Sure." He slipped the knife back into his leg holster, transfiguring it back into his wand.
Cho headed towards the kitchen, shoving against the front door, but not quite closing it. Harry followed and pushed the door closed.
This Manchester homemaker was Cho Longbottom. Her husband, doctor Neville Longbottom. But back when they were acquainted four years ago, her name was Cho Chang. Her codename Stormcrow. His was the Chosen One. They had schooled together at Hogwarts until she and many of the Ravenclaws were kidnapped and brainwashed to believe they were loyal Death Eaters. The conditioning remained, even after the war ended, and there was nothing anyone could do except mourn the way the Ravenclaws used to be.
Cho went behind the kitchen counter and tossed Harry a cloth towel before picking up one to wipe the blood off her face. She then began the process of boiling water, placing her wand on the marble surface. "Earl Grey okay with you?"
"Yes." Harry took this time to take in his surroundings. Everything looked orderly and well matched, but very much like a Muggle home. "I'm surprised a pureblood like you would let her pureblood son go to a Muggle primary school, let alone live like one."
Cho stiffened in her posture and gripped the kettle handle tightly. "Neville likes the house and thought living here would build character for Nicky."
"And you are married to Neville, that surprises me too. I guess once you became a Death Dealer, you needed an inconspicuous rock to hide under. Thanks," he said as Cho pushed a cup of tea towards him. He took a sip.
"Neville's a good man," she muttered absentmindedly. "I suppose it's too late for an apology?" Cho took a sip of her own cup, a pale blue mug with a thick handle.
"You would suppose correctly."
She slammed her mug on the counter and pointed a finger at Harry. "Look, I need to know if you're going to start shit in front of my son."
Harry smirked and retreated to lean his back against the doorway. "You can relax for now, I'm not going to murder you in front of your child."
Cho inclined her head a smidge. "You're a lot more rational than Snape led me to believe."
"It's mercy, compassion, and forgiveness I lack. Not rationality."
"You know, I really am sorry for what I did to you. I am. I know you want to get even-"
"Even?" Harry cut in cruelly. "Even steven? No. For that, I'd have to kill you...go upstairs and kill Nicky...and then wait for the good doctor Neville Longbottom to come home and kill him. That'd be about even. That'd be about square." Harry emphasized his point by drawing a square in the air with his finger.
"If I could obtain a strong Time Turner, I'd travel back in time and change what I've done. All I can say is that I'm a different person now. I may not be worth your mercy or your forgiveness," Cho broke off to grab a picture off a message board on the wall and shoved it in front of Harry's face. It was the only wizard item in the house as far as he could see. Nicky, in the picture, raised his hands up to his mouth and giggled. "But I beseech you on behalf of my son!"
"Cunt," Harry spat out as he laughed. "You can stop right there. Just because I won't kill you before the eyes of your child doesn't mean parading him around is going to inspire sympathy. You and I have unfinished business and nothing you've done the past four years is going to change that, including getting knocked up."
"So when are we going to do this?" Cho laid her palms on the kitchen counter, leaning forward.
"That all depends. When do you want to die? Tomorrow...the day after tomorrow?"
"How about tonight?"
"Splendid. Where?"
"There's a park about three blocks from here that I take Nicky on his play dates. Meet me there at midnight, dressed all in black, your face behind a black mask, and we'll have us a knife fight. Now," Cho lifted her pointer finger straight up and smiled. "I have to fix Nicky's cereal."
Harry took another sip of his tea as he watched Cho reach up and pull a cereal box out of the wall cabinet. "You know, Snape always said you were one of the best wizards he'd ever seen with an edged weapon."
Cho threw a dirty look at Harry as she opened a drawer and picked up a yellow plastic spoon. "Fuck you. I know Snape didn't qualify that shit, Chosen One. Humph, Chosen One. I should have been the Chosen One, or at least anyone not a Gryffindor."
"It was your choice to stick with your little butcher knife, Stormcrow. If you didn't want to play with the big boys, that's fine with me." Harry took another sip of his tea.
"Very funny, Harry. Very funny!" Cho spun around and threw a red vial at him.
As Harry dodged the throw, he dropped his mug letting his foot connect with the container and launching it towards Cho. She ducked to avoid the steaming liquid giving Harry the opportunity to reach for his wand, drawing it out of its holster, and threw it at Cho. As his wand flew through the air, it transfigured into a blade and found its mark deep into Cho's chest.
Cho made an incoherent noise as she slid to the ground, her life slowly draining out of her. Harry closed the distance between them, taking in the pleasure of the kill. He knelt down and pulled the blade out, watching Cho's blank face. As he stood, he quickly turned and saw Nicky standing in the doorway.
Harry grabbed a hand towel off the counter and meticulously began wiping the blood off the blade. He forced himself to meet Nicky's eyes. "It was not my intention to do that in front of you, and for that, I'm sorry." He dropped the cloth and slipped his now wand back into his leather holster attached to leg. He faced Nicky with a stoic expression on his face. "But you can take my word for it, your mother had it coming." Nicky remained silent, eyes never leaving Harry's face. "When you grow up, if you still feel raw about it, I'll be waiting," Harry whispered in his midnight voice.
Harry stepped through the spilt cereal, leaving the young boy and the kitchen housing the cooling corpse. He closed the front door behind him and entered his truck. A large legal pad sat on the passenger seat and he picked it up, uncapping a pen and crossing out the name Cho Chang. He stuck his key into the ignition taking a final look back at the Longbottom house before turning the engine on.
Chapter Two: The Boy Who Lived
Kingsley Shacklebolt whistled to the tune of the latest Weird Sisters song on the wireless as he finished buttoning up his shirt. He glanced at the mirror to check himself before turning the wireless off and Apparating.
He Apparated on the porch of a church somewhere in Scotland. Shacklebolt nodded to the Auror waiting for him. "What do we have here, Auror number one?"
"A damn massacre with seven people dead. They killed the minister, the minister's wife, even that scrawny boy who took pictures and played the piano."
Shacklebolt followed the Auror inside the church, passing under long metal wind chimes attached to the door frame. Crushed red rose petals were scattered all over the wooden floor. The bodies looked as if they were sleeping peacefully, except for bloody wounds here and there. "Killing Curse?"
"Looks like it, Shacklebolt. Except there's wounds on them that look like they came from Muggle weapons. What's the point of doing that if you're just going to use the Killing Curse?"
"I don't know, Auror number one, I just don't know." He walked forward to stare at the beaten male in a white highly designed robe, now ruined and stained in dried blood. "Who is the boy?"
"There's no certificate with the bride and groom's names, so we've just been calling him the Boy Who Lived, on account that he's barely alive after what was done to him."
Shacklebolt blinked. "He's still alive? Why haven't we moved him to St. Mungo's?"
"We didn't realize anyone would be alive. We have a mediwizard keeping him stable for now but he doesn't want the Boy Who Lived moved just yet. He's not stable enough for such a journey."
"Looks like someone wasn't able to hold their peace to this union." Shacklebolt's eyes trailed over to the altar of the church where a young redheaded woman was slumped over. She also wore a similar robe to the Boy Who Lived as well as a veil over her face. "That the bride?"
The Auror nodded. "Looks like she was pregnant too, poor girl. The baby couldn't be saved."
"That's a damn shame. Someone would have to be a right monster to kill a pregnant girl and do what they did to this boy. Death Eaters?" Shacklebolt shook his head. "It would have to be, but this isn't how they operate. And we captured most of them after the war. Whoever did this was cunning and smart, real smart. A true professional. Auror number one, I want you to put the word out to watch for a group of unique assassins."
"Why do you call them unique, Shacklebolt?"
Shacklebolt smiled grimly, taking in the gruesome scene. "Because they enjoy the thrill of the kill. They didn't have to use Muggle weapons but they did and they still used the Killing Curse to finish them off. It had to be a group because these were all wizards and witches and there isn't anyone who could do this on their own." He sighed. "Finish learning what you can, Auror number one, and get this boy to St. Mungo's."
***
Bellatrix whistled a shrill tune as she walked down the St. Mungo's hall. She wore a cream colored jacket with matching slacks, swinging a thick purse. Mediwizards and witches passed her by, none of them paying attention to the raven haired witch. They were used to strangers walking through their corridors and most simply assumed she was there to visit one of their patients.
She placed her hand on a door handle and pushed down, opening the door. She entered the empty room, closing the door and locking it. Bellatrix began to strip her clothing off, still whistling her shrill tune. Elsewhere, a slumbering Boy Who Lived rested peacefully on his bed, his room completely bare of personal artifacts, let alone anything else.
Bellatrix finished slipping on her hat to complete her mediwitch costume and opened her thick purse. Inside she carried several vials, each one a different size and color, along with a mirror. She took that and slipped it in her pocket. She reached into the purse and pulled out a fat vial with green liquid inside. The label on the glass, in small lettering, said 'Sweet Goodbye'. A snort arose from Bellatrix as she read the label. "He doesn't deserve a sweet goodbye." The weight in her pocket reminded her of her mission. "I may not like it, but I'll do what's required of me." She uncorked the vial and poured the contents into a cup she transfigured and placed the cup on a tray. Adjusting her hat one more time, she lifted the tray, bracing it on one hand, and opened the door.
She strode towards room 619 and entered, no one thinking her out of place. As Bellatrix saw the unconscious Harry on the bed, she briefly glanced at the clipboard hanging above the headboard. 'Comatose,' it read and the word brought a smile to her face.
"I might have never liked you. Point of fact, I despise you. But in the end, I respected you for having the courage to fly in the face of the odds you went up against. Dying in our sleep is a luxury our kind is rarely afforded. My gift to you." She reached for the cup and opened Harry's lips to pour the liquid down when her pocket began to croon. Bellatrix sighed, placed the cup down, and reached for her mirror.
"Snape," she said with a smile as she gazed at Snape's image reflected in the mirror.
"What's his condition?" Snape lounged in a plush green chair, old from years of use. His right hand rested on a sword handle, fingers stroking the base of the sheath that covered the sword's blade.
"Comatose," Bellatrix said as her voice turned playful. She couldn't help but flirt. After last night, she wanted to race home and sink back into bed with him. As soon as she finished her mission, of course.
"Bella, I want you to abort the mission."
The words that flew out of Bellatrix's mouth was loud and incomprehensible. "You don't owe him shit!"
Snape frowned and clenched the sword handle harder. "Lower your voice," he said quietly.
"You don't owe him shit!" This time she said it in a whisper.
"May I say one thing?"
"Speak." There was one thing Bellatrix couldn't get enough of and that was Snape's voice. Just the thought of him speaking made her shiver with pleasure.
"The Death Dealers beat and raped that man to the brink, but you didn't kill him. You used the Unforgivable curse of Cruciatus to try and push him over that brink, but his heart just kept right on beating. And we both know what happens when a Killing Curse is tried against him. Now you saw that with your beautiful eyes, did you not? We've done a lot of things to this wizard, and if he ever wakes up, we'll do a whole lot more. But one thing we won't do is sneak into his room in the night like a filthy rat and kill him in his sleep. And the reason we won't do that thing is because...that thing would lower us. Don't you agree, Widow Lestrange?"
"I guess." She hated when he referred to her as Lestrange. Her husband died a few years ago and it was at that time Snape graced her with her codename. She was no longer a Lestrange. She was his Black Widow.
"Do you really have to guess?"
Bellatrix sighed. "No, I don't really have to guess. I know."
"Come on home, Bella."
The corner of her mouth lifted. "I love you so much."
"I know." Snape's image in the mirror wavered and blanked, leaving Bellatrix alone in the hospital room with Harry.
Harry. She faced him with a scowl on her face. "Word of advice, wanker. Don't you ever wake up!"
Four Years Later
Room 619 at St. Mungo's remained relatively unchanged in the last four years. Patient Boy Who Lived gained three more roommates, all long term comatose patients like him. The walls were still a sickening white and his corner of the room contained no personal artifacts. No one knew who the Boy Who Lived really was.
An insect, no bigger than the mole on the Boy Who Lived's left thigh, buzzed through the air looking for something tasty to eat. It landed on the smooth cheek of the Boy Who Lived and just as it poked him, Harry sat up abruptly gasping. Snape's words pounded through his head. "This is me at my most masochistic."
He slammed his hand against his temple in effort to stop the pain, an almost echo of Crucio upon his mind. Taking in a deep breath, he took in his surroundings. Believing himself safe for the moment, Harry stared down at his palms, studying the creases and wrinkles. "Four years?" he whispered to himself.
Harry heard whistling in the hallway and footsteps getting louder. He glanced around for a place to hide, and when he couldn't find one, he instinctively fell back into bed, closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing. The door opened and two individuals walked in, judging by the footsteps.
The two stopped at the foot of Harry's bed. "The going price for a shag is seventy-five Galleons." Theodore Nott grinned, his weasel face lighting up at the stranger next to him. "You paying or what?"
"Oh yeah." He handed Theodore a pouch full of Galleons.
As the stranger stepped forward, Theodore lashed his arm out, holding him back. "I've got some ground rules before you begin. Rule number one: no punching him. The mediwitch comes in tomorrow and he got himself a shiner, the gig is up. So, no knuckle sandwiches under no circumstances. Now are we absolutely positively clear on rule number one?"
"Yeah."
Theodore nodded. "Good. Now rule number two is no monkey bites and no hickey. In fact, no marks of any kind. After that, it's all good, buddy. Go ahead and come in him all you want. Keep the noise down and try not to make a mess. I'll be back in twenty." He turned to leave and snapped his fingers as if he remembered something. "This boy's sometimes tighter than a goblin with a knut so here's some lube if you need to grease up." He reached in his pocket and tossed the stranger a vial of yellow liquid.
The door slammed shut and the stranger chuckled as he gazed upon the slumbering male. He shrugged his jacket off, tossing it aside, and climbed up onto the bed. "You're the finest piece of arse I've had all week," he murmured and bent low to kiss the Boy Who Lived.
At that moment, the Boy Who Lived opened his eyes and reached up to snatch the stranger's tongue with his teeth. The stranger screamed...
Harry sat up, placed his feet on the cold floor and tried to stand, but his legs gave out and he stumbled. The whistling grew louder and Harry scanned his wild eyes around looking for a weapon. He remembered the stranger and ran his fingers on the corpse for anything. His fingers brushed against something long and made of wood, he pulled the wand from the stranger's pocket and concentrated on transfiguring it into a blade.
He crawled towards the door, blade clenched in his right hand. The door opened to the sound of "Decent or not, I'm coming in," and Harry braced himself against the wall.
Theodore's eyes immediately zoned in on the empty bed...the bed that should have contained a coma patient. Perhaps even a customer bare arse and shagging said patient. His eyes trailed to the floor and he blinked, his mind not quite ready to process what he saw. His customer lying dead on the floor, blood soaked into his shirt. "What the?"
Harry braced himself, half hidden behind the open door and wall, grasped the blade harder, and lunged at Theodore's heel. The glistening metal sliced through the tendon with ease. Theodore fell to the ground and Harry dragged him to the doorway, nudging Theodore's head where the door and wall met.
"Where's Snape!" He didn't mean to shout it, but he wasn't sure where he was or why he was still alive. There was a high possibility he was in the hands of his enemies and that meant escaping. It also meant he needed to find Snape. Harry slammed the door against Theodore's head.
"Ow, I don't know! Please stop hitting me."
"You lie. Where's Snape?" He slammed the door again and it was then that he noticed the tag on Theodore's shirt. It read 'Theodore Nott.' A memory flashed in Harry's mind, of someone standing over his bed chuckling deeply.
"Aren't you a delicious morsel? Boy Who Lived, eh? Well, I'm Theodore Nott, and I like what you've got. That's a mighty fine piece of arse I'm going to come in tonight." Theodore's words echoed back.
Harry, barely holding back his anger, quietly asked his captive, "Your name is Theodore Nott...right? And you like what I've got...right?"
Theodore whimpered as a flood of rage cascaded through Harry. Four long years of unconsciousness and he had been used as a sperm receptacle all that time? Harry slammed the door against Theodore as hard as he could, smiling in cold satisfaction as Theodore twitched once more and stilled.
He peeked out into the hallway, checking both directions before pulling his head back in. Since Theodore no longer needed his mediwizard clothing, Harry started undressing him for his clothing.
Twenty minutes later Harry was wheeling himself via a Muggle's wheelchair out of St. Mungo's, Theodore's wand hidden within the flaps of his robe. He wasn't sure where he was headed, but he needed to find some place safe if only for a moment.
A big truck parked on the side of the street caught his eye. It had a covered backseat and that suited his needs perfectly. He slid the wand out and murmured an opening charm. Casting another charm to obscure himself slightly, he grasped the sides of the door and pulled himself up into the truck's backseat.
It took a few minutes before he could get inside, tears welling in his eyes. Harry could have easily levitated himself into the truck, but he learned long ago magic was not the solution to everything. Sometimes, in order to win and survive, one had to master their physical strength. He knew magic couldn't push his legs out of atrophy, but his sheer willpower could. This first part of getting himself inside was just one of the many tests he must endure.
He leaned forward to shut the door and rested his back against the side as he made himself as comfortable as he could. Harry folded his hands on his lap and stared at his feet, concentrating. "Wiggle your big toe," he murmured. "Wiggle your big toe."
As he lay there willing his limbs out of atrophy, Harry could see in his mind the assholes and cunts who did this to him. They were members all of the Death Dealers, an elite assassination squad of the late Lord Voldemort, headed by Snape. Lucius with his son Draco, Bellatrix with her cruel sneer, and Cho Chang.
When something this merciless smiles upon a person and he can survive through it, it shows that not only has fate wanted him to live, but fate has chosen him for a terrible duty of vengeance.
When Harry knew the least about his enemies, he knew the most about Draco Malfoy. But when one was the Prince of the criminal underworld, one usually doesn't try to hide it.
Chapter Three: The Origins of Draco Malfoy
Draco Malfoy was born in the decadent Malfoy manor, the birthplace of every Malfoy male going back twenty six generations. Abraxas, Draco's grandfather, stood over the cradle of his grandson and nodded his approval. With the prestige of the Malfoy name as well as the riches that came with it, Draco should have risen to high wizard society.
Except he didn't. From his very first year of Hogwarts, he was bested in his studies by a Muggleborn named Hermione Granger and no one could beat the famous Harry Potter in daring and popularity. Voldemort returned a few years later and Draco's life really went to shite. All of it was really the fault of his father, Lucius, but neither truly expected what would happen next.
The new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, was of the Barty Crouch school of thought and that meant punishing guilty parties post haste, never mind paltry things like trials or justice. He knew the Malfoy males supported Voldemort and, despite their prestige and their riches, Scrimgeour wanted them killed.
One night Scrimgeour entered the Malfoy Manor with his personal Auror squad, ready to exterminate his enemies. They didn't find Lucius or Draco within the stone built home. However, what they found instead was almost as good.
Narcissa, in her finest velvet gown of forest green color, met them in the foyer. She raised a delicate blonde eyebrow at the crowd before her. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of you trespassing in my home?"
Neither Scrimgeour nor his Auror goons answered her, at least not in words. What followed during the rest of the night was only known between those at the Manor, but the next morning when Draco returned home and saw his mother naked and brutalized hanging over the smoldering ruins of the manor...he swore revenge.
Luckily for him, Rufus Scrimgeour was a pedophile.
It took Draco about a month to gather the ingredients and craft a Polyjuice potion for himself. He had to be devious about his plan. Polyjuice was one of the many restricted potions outlawed by the Ministry and the ingredients themselves were on notice. He could have asked Snape to brew the potion himself but this was his vengeance. No one else would take that away from him.
The final touch drove Draco into the Muggle world for the perfect specimen, a little boy that would catch Scrimgeour's eye and draw him into bed. Draco found such a boy - one about seven years old with messy black hair and hazel eyes. He looked reminiscent of Harry Potter, and judging by the rumors of that last meeting between the two, Scrimgeour was hot for Potter's arse.
The Polyjuice potion was ready for consumption and Draco hid it in his hip pocket. The outfit he chose looked school boy in nature; Potter's first day at some Muggle primary. The Minister would not be able to resist.
It didn't take long for Draco to drink the potion and end up inside the Ministry, all wide eyed innocence and boyish charm. The Aurors led him into Scrimgeour's private chambers and closed the door behind him.
Scrimgeour slid his satin robe off his shoulders and sat on the side of the bed, legs spread open. "You're a delicious morsel. Which one of my delegates sent you?" He licked his lips and beckoned Draco forward. "Not that it matters. Come, let the Minister have a taste."
"Yes, sir," Draco squeaked, his voice pitched high as it would on the boy he stole the hair from. He shuffled his feet forward until he was sandwiched between Scrimgeour's legs.
"Have you been a good little boy?" he crooned as he slowly stripped off Draco's uniform. The material pooled around his ankles.
"Oh so good, sir." Draco shivered in the cold air and leaned his cheek against Scrimgeour's own. "I'm so cold. Can you warm me up?"
"Of course, my sweet. Come and give me a kiss." Scrimgeour tilted his head and drew Draco close to kiss him. Draco put up little resistance as a tongue slipped into his mouth and hands fondled his cock.
He shivered again, this time not from the cold, and backed an inch away. He knelt down and placed his hands on Scrimgeour's thighs, inhaling the older man's musky aroma. "Yes," the Minister hissed as Draco slid his mouth over his cock. "Suck my lollipop, my sweet. Suck it hard and good."
Draco wasn't gay, not by any stretch of the word, but he sucked like a good little boy should. His hands reached for his robes and held it tight against him. He pulled away, a trail of saliva connecting his bottom lip to the purple head of Scrimgeour's cock. Scrimgeour's cock twitched in response to the delicious sight, as Draco knew it would. "I want to ride you!"
Scrimgeour smiled gently and lifted Draco from his knees onto the bed. He, with his hands still around Draco's waist, pulled him onto him as he lay on the covers. "Ride me, my sweet, ride me," he said as he thrust without warning into Draco.
The pain hurt Draco more than he could almost bear, and he could have sworn he felt blood trailing down his arse, but bear it he did. Every thrust, every moment of pain he took into himself and endured. He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a piece of candy. "Suck on this, sir. I want to...urgh, imagine you sucking me!"
Scrimgeour groaned and leaned up a bit to take the candy into his mouth, nipping at Draco's fingers. As he sucked on the candy though he noticed it was getting more and more difficult to continue thrusting. Scrimgeour tried moving his arm but found he could not.
Harsh laughter brought back Scrimgeour's attention and he watched as his little boy slipped a dagger from his uniform and plunged it deeply into his chest. The Minister could do nothing to stop the attack, not even scream at the pain. "How does it feel, Rufus, to be helpless to a child? Tell me," he murmured as he twisted the dagger. "Take a good look at my eyes, at my mouth. Do I look familiar? Do I look like someone...you have murdered!" At his words, the Polyjuice wore off and Draco's guise slid off him. He bent forward to brush his lips against Scrimgeour's as he yanked the dagger out and plunged it into the Minister again and again and again...letting the blood spray over the walls and his body. It was magic and he loved it.
Running noises alerted Draco and he slid off Scrimgeour's corpse, wincing as the older man's cock slurped out of his arse, and ducked under the bed as he reached for the wand he'd hidden. As the Aurors broke through the door, Draco shouted the Killing Curse, aiming perfectly and watching the men crumble to the ground.
The chain of events changed Draco, hardened him in a way that nothing else could. He was no longer a little boy playing at intrigue. Draco now understood why his father enjoyed killing; there was no greater feeling than ending life with one's own hands. He wanted more.
Under Snape's tutelage, Draco received that 'more.' Snape taught Draco the ways of killing with finesse, the art of physical combat, and the grace of a wizard's sword. During the Lord Voldemort war, Draco relished the bloodbath a battlefield could sow. When Snape requested Draco for his Death Dealers, he bestowed the blond the codename of Runespoor.
At the age of twenty one, a month after the war ended, Draco participated in the massacre of seven people at Shady Grove church including Harry's unborn son. That was Draco's big mistake. It should have been eight. But before Harry could obtain bloody satisfaction, first things first.
"Wiggle your big toe." His big toe on his right foot twitched, barely moved really, but it was enough for Harry. A small smile reached his face. "Now let's get these other piggies wiggling."
After a grueling thirteen hours later, Harry opened the door of the truck and set his bare feet on the sidewalk. Now it was time for the hard stuff.
Harry found himself at a Muggle train station and pushed some money at a lady behind a counter. "One ticket to the area of Budleigh Babberton please."
Chapter Four: The Man From Budleigh Babberton
Harry read the message on the white piece of paper in his hand, glanced up at the shabby wooden building in front of him and tucked the paper away in his back pocket. The quaint village he was currently in was strictly Muggle and thus he wore simple, everyday Muggle clothing in order to blend in. Nothing could hide the fact that he was a tourist but that worked perfectly for him.
He entered the building, his arm moving aside the hanging strands of beads in the door frame. An enormously fat, bald, old man in an apron looked up from behind his counter and waved at Harry with his knife clenching hand. "Oh ho! Welcome to Sushi Delights." He took a closer look at Harry and at his white tee, brown jacket, and khaki pants. "Stranger to Budleigh Babberton, eh?"
Harry nodded and hitched his knapsack higher on his shoulder. "That I am. Just arrived and I'm starved."
"Then you're in the perfect place. I'm Slughorn and this is my shop. Come, come sit. I'll get you a drink. Beer okay?" Harry nodded. Slughorn gestured to the stools in front of his counter and turned his head towards the door near him where Harry could vaguely see a woman watching a television set inside. "Trelawney, one beer!"
The woman yelled back, not bothering to move an inch, "Get it yourself!"
Slughorn growled as he chopped a fish into small portions. "That damn bint. Trelawney, we have a customer! One beer!"
Harry hid a smile as Trelawney stormed out of the room and stabbed a finger at Slughorn. Her brown hair was frizzy and her eyes were bug-like because of the large glasses she wore. The clothes she wore...Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. All different materials and bangles and beads. "I was focusing my Inner Eye. You can easily grab the tea if you weren't so lazy."
Slughorn snorted. "Inner Eye, my arse! That lazy eye of yours was fixated on the telly. And I said beer, not tea. It's what our customer wants and he shall get what he wants!"
"I have worked for you for years and years on end. If this was the Royal Marines, I'd have been general by now and you would be the one to get the tea."
"If this was the Royal Marines, I'd be the Queen of bloody England and you still would have to get the drinks! Now go." Slughorn threw a towel at Trelawney's head, narrowly missing her. Trelawney made a face and went into the next room.
As if Slughorn suddenly remembered Harry he blushed and bowed his head. "Sorry for that scene. Trelawney's a bit of a...never mind." He lifted a small plate of sushi onto the counter. "Dig in. Trelawney should be back with your beer. Ah, here she is! So what brings you to Budleigh Babberton? It's a bit out of the way from the nearest train station. Got family here?"
Harry leaned forward on his elbows and smiled. "Nope. No family here or anywhere else. I'm here to visit a man."
"I must know him then. Not hard to know everyone in this village. What's his name?" Slughorn asked as he continued to slice fish.
"I know his name but I've never met him." Harry's eyes pierced into Slughorn's own. "His name is Horace Slughorn and I'm here for Slughorn steel."
The knife fell from Slughorn's hand and he held onto the counter trying not to quiver. "Slughorn steel, eh? You must have pretty big vermin if you have need of that."
"Huge."
"Come with me." Slughorn quickly told Trelawney to watch the shop and motioned Harry to follow him. He lead them up a secret stairwell to a room...and Harry caught his breath. The room was filled with rows of hanging swords. It was beautiful and Harry took a step forward.
"May I?" he absentmindedly asked. Slughorn nodded and as Harry reached for one, Slughorn called out, "Try the third one from the top." Harry did as suggested and lifted the sword from its rack with reverence and, eyes connecting with Slughorn, pulled the sword out of its sheathe.
"It's gorgeous," said Harry breathlessly.
"I no longer make instruments of death. It was something I had experimented on from my youth and I perfected when I became a Potions Master. I am proud of my life's work, but it is something I vowed I shall no longer do. These I keep for sentimental or artistic value." He sighed. "I showed these to you because I had to let you know that."
"So give me one of these."
"These are not for sale."
Harry smiled, a dark expression on his face and glanced at Slughorn. "I didn't say sell to me. I said give me."
The remark caused Slughorn to laugh. "And why would I give you a sword? I do not even know you despite you knowing me."
"Because my vermin is a former student of yours." Harry's voice darkened as if it was midnight personified. "And considering the student, I'd say you have a rather large obligation."
Slughorn clutched his chest, recognizing immediately who Harry spoke of. He walked slowly to the window of the room, the glass pane still frosted over from the morning cold. He raised his hand and slowly wrote out the name of Snape on the glass. He sighed heavily and walked towards the stairs.
"It will take me a month to create your sword. You may sleep here. I'd suggest you practice," and he left.
Harry walked to the window and erased Snape's name with the sleeve of his jacket.
***
Slughorn gave Harry permission to use any of his old swords for his training. On one hand, he'd had four years of inactivity and he needed to retrain desperately if he wanted to be victorious against Draco and his army, let alone anyone else. On the other, and Harry traced his finger over the flat portion of the blade, if one was to possess Slughorn steel, one needed to know how to handle such a fine instrument.
Harry picked up the sword and went outside into the backyard. Autumn only recently arrived in Budleigh Babberton and the leaves were starting to turn orange on the trees. He pulled his shift off, tossing it to the side, and began the basic positions of holding his sword. Then slowly moved with it.
The simple steps reminded him of when he first learned sword work with Snape. It was sometime during the war after everyone believed that Snape truly was on Lord Voldemort's side. Harry hadn't been allowed to leave Grimmauld Place back then, the Order of the Phoenix thought it was too dangerous otherwise, but Harry true to form couldn't stay within the walls of his safe house.
He left, and almost the near moment after he did, Snape kidnapped him. At first Harry thought Snape was going to hand him over to Voldemort, but Snape's true intentions were anything but...
***
Harry grunted and rubbed his elbow as he stumbled to the floor after Snape Apparated them. "Nice little Death Eater hideout, Snape," he spat out. "Your Dark Lord must be so pleased."
"Shut up, Potter, and for once in your life listen to me." Snape sat down on a cushioned chair and placed his wand on the side table. "I haven't tied you up by magic or rope, nor have I taken away your wand. Believe what you may about me but I need you to listen to what I have to say. Understood?"
Harry nodded and sat up on the floor, taking a moment to observe his surroundings. The place was musty with books on the shelves and faded green carpet. It looked as if no one lived there for a very long time.
"The Dark Lord has created an assassin squad assigned to be the battering ram of his campaign. I am in charge of the squad and of their training." He leaned forward and linked his fingers together. "I have all ready begun training them and if you are not prepared, you and the Wizarding World will crumble."
"And who are your assassins?"
"The two Malfoy men, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Cho Chang."
Cho Chang? Harry couldn't help but gape at Snape. He thought she had died when the mass exodus of Ravenclaws were kidnapped from Hogwarts months ago. Everyone thought those students had died. "Cho...how is she? Is she okay?"
"Enjoying her newfound position on the Dark side. Most of the Ravenclaws are, after their conditioning. The Dark Lord on advice from Lucius decided that adding Ravenclaws to his forces would further secure his victory. Miss Chang has gained...an appreciation for the fine art of torture. You'd be proud of her skills if you were twisted in the mind."
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "You telling me this doesn't help me at all. Great, Voldemort has assassins. That doesn't change a thing."
"On the contrary, it does. My Death Dealers do not fight with magic alone. I have been training them in the exquisite art form of sword play. Miss Chang is vicious with a knife in her hand. Her talent with an edged weapon is breathtaking." The smile on Snape's face turned ghastly. "Draco has ordered from Ollivander several swords with handle cores usually meant in wands. That means, Potter, that my Death Dealers can cast spells with their swords. They will parry and shield themselves from your pathetic curses and kill you without magic. Or perhaps enhanced with magic. Either way, your Order of the Phoenix cannot fight against this new tactic."
"So what's the point of telling me this?" A thought occurred to Harry. "You're very important to Voldemort's side and our side doesn't trust you, let alone like you. So why are you helping us?"
"Helping you, Potter. I am going to teach you everything I know so you can counter my Death Dealers. It won't be easy by any stretch of the word, but by the end of your training, you will be able to defeat anyone who stands in your way."
"Does that include you?" asked Harry with a half serious, half teasing tone.
"Perhaps. But I have my ways in staying your hand."
"All right. So when do we do this?"
"Right now. Write an owl post to your Order and let them know you are...traveling the world to find Voldemort's weaknesses. Do not mention me nor what I have told you. All this must be kept a secret."
Harry nodded, vaguely wondering what he had just got himself into.
***
The door slid open and Trelawney stepped out with a tray of tea in her hands "Training going well, sir?"
"As well as it could, I suppose. You know, you don't have to refer to me as sir. I'm too young for that title." Harry wiped the sweat running down his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Slughorn would have my head if I referred to you as anything less than full respect. If you aren't pleased with sir, I could always call you avenging warrior."
He laughed. "Well, if those are my two options, I'll take sir." Harry sheathed his sword and walked to Trelawney. "Thanks for the tea, Sybill. How is Slughorn doing with his creation?"
"Very well. I have seen him at work and it is the finest I have ever seen. You will be suitably impressed in a month. Master Slughorn has not mentioned your mission much to me except it deals with his old student Snape."
"Yes...he and his assassination squad killed my unborn son and my bride to be, among other people. I ended up in a coma for four years because of him. All I have left in my life is revenge."
Trelawney nodded sagely, her frazzled hair bobbing up and down. "I hope after this is all over, you can find some semblance of peace, sir."
"I truly doubt that. The only peace I'll find is when Snape is dead." Harry picked up a tea cup and took a sip. "This is delicious. Where in Britain did you acquire this tea?"
"That's my secret, sir, and it wasn't Britain made. But if you want, I'll send a box of the stuff with you when you leave us."
"Thanks."
Trelawney patted Harry's shoulder, not noticing the wizard flinch at the touch. "You're welcome, sir. I'll have supper ready at six."
A smile twitched on Harry's face. "Will it be sushi?"
"Only if Master Slughorn cooks." Trelawney chuckled and went back inside the house, leaving Harry alone with his sword and his memories.
Day in and day out, Harry trained with Slughorn steel. And every moment he was plagued with his memories. They teased him, seduced him, of his time with Snape during the war. He couldn't change what happened in the past, but he studied his memories like one would in a Pensieve. Every spoken word, look, and touch was to be analyzed and anything beyond relating to his mission was to be ignored. He couldn't allow himself to be enticed...
***
Harry hit the ground hard, pain spasms shooting up his thighs, but all he could focus on was Snape's very quiet voice telling him to get back up and do it again. "This is only the beginning, Potter. All this I've taught my Death Dealers, but you'll need more than that to defeat them, let alone the Dark Lord."
"What's the point of this when I still need to find and destroy the Horcruxes?" He threw Snape a defiant look as he struggled to stand on his feet, but as he rose, Snape strode towards him and backhanded him.
"None of that infamous Potter sass. You need this because that pretty little scenario you have in your head of walking up to the Dark Lord and using the Killing Curse on him is not going to work. There needs to be a warrior standing in front of me where, right now, there is only a foolish boy." He sneered. "Can you do that or shall I find someone more competent?"
Harry swallowed his retort and nodded firmly, promising himself to not let Snape get under his skin any longer.
Time passed and he fought to control his emotions around Snape. It somewhat worked and he learned greatly under Snape's tutelage - wandless magic, non verbal magic, sword and knife and unarmed combat mastery, channeling magic through swords; not to mention the special diet, routine and exercise Snape had him on.
If Ginny could see him then, she would barely recognize the boy she grew up with. Harry wondered briefly if she would like what she saw.
***
Harry shrieked and tried to pull away as Snape held onto Harry's arm and poured a purple liquid over a festering gash just above his elbow. "Hold still, Potter. I need to disinfect this wound before you lose the arm. What idiotic reasoning ran through your mind to let this go untreated?"
He shrugged as well as he could. "Didn't seem like it was a big deal at the time. I've been bitten by bugs before."
"Remember where we are. The next time you are bitten, no matter how small, let me know. I cannot have you less than whole before you defeat the Dark Lord."
Harry tilted his head to the side. "I just realized you never refer to him as anything but as the Dark Lord. Why won't you say his name? It's not even his real name, you know. He was born Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Snape sneered and dropped Harry's arm. "I may be betraying the Dark Lord, but I still have some respect and fear of him. At least I am not trying to teach you manners. I would have failed a long time ago." He reached into his pocket and pulled a roll of gauze. He took Harry's arm again and began wrapping it. "Since you cannot continue practicing your swordsmanship today, I am offering you a chance to decide what we will be working on." Snape's eyes bore into Harry's own. "Choose wisely."
"All right. Let's talk about the Death Dealers. I want to know everything about them. They're going to be my major hindrance before I can face Voldemort, right?" Harry made himself comfortable against the wall, watching Snape continuing to bandage him.
"You are correct in a way. You will certainly encounter them on your journey, but my Death Dealers are meant for combat on the battlefield not as bodyguards to the Dark Lord." Snape's smile was terrible to behold. "It is in that detail you will triumph. The Dark Lord believes he will be safe because of his assassin squad and when the moment arrives, he will be alone and no match for you. But until that moment arrives, there is still much work to be done."
Snape talked about the Malfoy family and how Lucius loved his son. He mentioned Bellatrix losing her husband in a raid but he soon gained her trust and loyalty. They moved to the sofa as Snape continued with Cho and her drive to prove herself to the rest of the Death Eaters and that she was as pure as any of them in blood. He talked and Harry listened about how the squad formed and how he chose the five and gave them new names.
"And what is your codename?" he asked politely. "I'm sure you have one as well. Let me guess, Commander Cobra?"
Snape reached over and squeezed Harry's wrapped wound, causing him to wince. "My codename, and Bella thought it up, is the Voice. Try not to laugh at its ridiculousness. After their training, I told them I would be away on private missions. They accepted it and I have used this time to train you."
"Again, I don't understand it. You're placed highly on Voldemort's side. If he won, you would be one of his generals in his new world, a deadly power in your own right. Why would you turn that away to help a side that may not even win and doesn't like you?" Harry shifted his legs up so he could wrap his arms around his knees.
"Because, Potter, that is none of your business. Just remember you would never be allowed to live in the Dark Lord's new world. Now what would you like for dinner?"
***
One month later
Harry, in a white wizard robe of the simplest design and material, knelt before a kneeling Slughorn and Trelawney, both also wearing the same non-descript white robe as himself. The room they were in was darkened save for a few lit candles casting shadows on the walls. Between Harry and Slughorn lay a small table raised two inches above the ground and on the table rested a sword within a black sheath.
"When you first arrived and told me your story, I was sympathetic to your plight," Slughorn began. Trelawney lifted the sword and Slughorn pulled the blade out, letting Trelawney place the sheath back on the table. Slughorn held the blade with reverence and balanced the tip against his robed sleeve. "I swore an oath years ago that I would never create another 'instrument that kills.' Not by steel nor potions. But your mission has made me realize that I must atone for my early sins when I said yes to a snake and indirectly caused so much evil in the world. With this sword in your hands, I will be absolved of my guilt."
Slughorn slipped the blade back in its sheath and held it out to Harry. Harry took the sword and bowed his head. "Thank you."
"Take this, green eyed warrior, and go."
Chapter Five: Showdown at Black Dahlia
One year after the massacre at Shady Grove church, Snape backed his protege in his Hogwartian debut against the Slytherin Syndicate. When the dust settled and the last wand was sheathed, it was Draco Malfoy and his Deadly Vipers who reigned over the criminal underworld of the Wizarding community.
At the celebratory meeting of the bosses of the Slytherin Syndicate, Draco sat at the head of the table smiling as he raised his cup of tea to his lips. To his right in the dark grey robe sat Pansy Parkinson; Draco's secretary, second lieutenant, and best friend; another former protege of Snape's. Pansy wasn't a fighter by any means, but she learned strategy from Snape. It was her cunning that enabled Draco his victory. The young girl in the school girl uniform near Draco's side was Luna Lovegood, his personal bodyguard. What she lacked in age, she made up for in madness.
Luna was always a bit on the crazy side during her schooling years, but the war and the capture and subsequent brainwashing of the Ravenclaws pushed Luna over the edge. One such instance happened during the war at a tavern down in Manchester. Luna, with her hair in pigtails, entered the tavern sucking on a sugar quill. She gazed at the patrons and took a seat at the bar. A patron sitting next to her, a weasel looking man in a business suit, motioned the bar keep over.
"Two drinks, one for me and one for this pretty little lady by me." He swirled his chair to eye her. "So what's a pretty thing like you doing here?"
Luna giggled and placed her sugar quill on the counter half eaten. The bar keep handed her a glass of dark liquid and she gulped it down. "Do you want to shag me?"
The patron beamed and snickered a little. Luna made a face and reached over to drink down his drink. "I'm being serious. Do you want to penetrate me?"
Luna started to climb up on the counter and chugging back beer bottles she found, her knickers flashing out from under her short green skirt. The patron nodded his head liberally and tugged on Luna's skirt to pull her back. She sat back on her stool and leaned in close, the scent of sugar mixed with beer fresh on her breath. The patron gasped and stared down at the stiletto sticking out of his stomach.
Luna laughed, a twinkling sound, and pushed the stiletto in deeper. "Or is it I...who has penetrated you?" She twisted the weapon and yanked blood, laughing even harder as blood flowed freely from the patron's wound.
The black man standing against the back wall to Draco's right with a black mask over his eyes was Blaise Zabini, head general of Draco's Deadly Viper army. During the battle, Blaise had the highest kill count of any Slytherin and he was fiercely loyal to Draco.
The bosses that made up the Slytherin Syndicate leadership - Avery, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov - sat around the table celebrating their new leader. All except one, Fenrir Greyback. He sat furthest away from the head of the table, muttering to himself. As Rosier laughed at a joke Mulciber made, Fenrir slammed his fist into his dinner plate and shattered it. All conversation died as everyone faced Fenrir.
"Is there something wrong, Boss Greyback?" Draco asked in a quiet tone, placing his tea cup gently on the table.
"There is nothing to celebrate." Fenrir reached for his cloth napkin and started wiping the blood off his hand.
"What are you talking about, Fenrir? You are insulting our Brother here," said Avery in a huff. "You're disgracing us!"
Fenrir gnashed his teeth and threw the bloody napkin at Avery. "Fucking bastard, you are a disgrace! This entire celebration is a farce. We shouldn't be rejoicing the perversion of our illustrious council."
The other bosses shouted their outrage but Draco simply raised his hand and they quieted. "Obviously Boss Greyback has something important to say. Continue. What perversion do you speak of?"
He grunted and stared into his broken plate. "We created this council syndicate during our Lord's first rise to power to expand his resources and domain. The Dark Lord is gone but we survived. However, he would weep if he saw us now! I speak of the perversion done to this syndicate, which I greatly love, more than I love my own pack...by making an upstart cock sucking youth whore its leader!"
Before the last words left Greyback's mouth, Draco jumped on the table and ran down the length of it towards him, his hands clenched on his sword handle and sheath. As he reached the werewolf, in one smooth move, he pulled out his sword and sliced off Greyback's head. The head flew and landed somewhere near Dolohov as blood began to gush from the neck.
Pansy and Luna watched the event with pleased smiles on their faces while the bosses began to shriek. Torture and death were one thing, but that was normally done through magic. This was violent in a way they had never seen before or expected.
Draco stood slowly, his fitted black robes straightening, and snapped his sword to the side, letting the excess blood splash onto Boss Rosier's face. He slid his sword back into the sheath, slowly and precisely, as he stared down everyone with a cold expression on his face. "So you know just how serious I am, I will only say this once. Consider this your last warning." His voice was low before he stood taller and held the sheathed sword at his side, his voice returning back to normal.
"As your leader, I expect from time to time and always in a respectful manner, that you question my logic. If you're unconvinced that a particular plan of action I've decided is the wisest, tell me so! But allow me to convince you and I promise you right here and now, no subject will ever be taboo." Draco frowned. "Except, of course, the subject that was just under discussion. The price you pay for bringing up either my age or my past as a negative is...I collect your fucking head. Just like this fucker here." He wordlessly Accio'd Greyback's head to his outreached hand, using his sword as a magic amplifier. "Now, if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say now's the fucking time!"
Draco paused, gazing into the eyes of each and every Slytherin boss. "I didn't think so." He dropped the head and bowed low. "Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned."
***
Harry pressed his face against the glass window of the train, barely registering the scenery that flew by him. This was it. He was on his way to face Draco and he honestly didn't know what to expect. Draco had his army of Deadly Vipers while he had a month of recalling old memories and training to gain back his old skill. Was it enough? Was he ready?
His grip on his sheathed sword tightened and released over and over during the course of the train ride. He couldn't stop thinking about his showdown. Pansy would be there as well and as Draco's right hand witch, she would possess the knowledge he needed to find the rest of the Death Dealers, and through them, Snape.
Somewhere on the London roads, Pansy drove the sleek blue BMW she bought from the States. Classical music poured from her radio and her fingers tapped to the melodic beat on her steering wheel. Draco called her earlier wanting to go out and unwind and she knew the perfect place. The Slytherin Syndicate over the years owned many Muggle and wizard businesses, most of them fronts for something more sinister. However, the Black Dahlia was quite legal in the eyes of both worlds' laws. Pansy purchased the half club, half restaurant about two years ago as a relaxing location. The bottom half of the building was for Muggles; a bar with a dance floor and little alcoves for ordering food. The top half though that overlooked the dance floor was purely for wizards and their entertainment, whatever that may entail.
Pansy smirked. Even if some of the entertainment was a tad on the shady side. So she called the Black Dahlia ahead of time to prepare their largest room and told Draco where and when they would meet. Of course, they wouldn't be alone. Draco always went everywhere with Luna and a few of his Deadly Vipers at his side. There were still people stupid enough in the Wizarding world trying to assassinate Draco, and of course they always failed.
Harry stepped off the train steps, sword still in hand, and took in a deep cleansing breath of the London night air. As pleasant as Budleigh Babberton was, it felt good to be back in London, if only for a little while. He nodded politely to the guard on the platform and headed towards the exit. While on the train, he had begun casting a tracking spell on Pansy and once he found a place where he could don his Invisibility Cloak and ride on his broom, he would follow wherever she went. Because wherever Pansy was, Draco was surely nearby.
Pansy Parkinson, forever Draco's right hand. He recalled that she was also at Shady Grove four years ago. Cho had just kicked him to the ground and he heard a mobile phone ringing a memorable tune. He turned his head to the side and saw Pansy, in a white business wizarding robe, answering the phone. She was chatting and laughing, all the while ignoring what was occurring to him.
She, too, would pay.
Pansy met Draco at the Black Dahlia and inclined her head towards Draco's bodyguards. "This is just what you need, Draco. Black Dahlia is perfect, after all." She took a cursory glance at Draco's formal outfit. His blond hair, grown long over the past couple of months, was tied back with a hair clip. The robes he wore were long and white, with a white belt tied around his waist. As always, Draco carried his sword across his back. "And you're looking extremely handsome, if not a bit overdone for an evening out. Expecting someone?"
"Just finished a meeting actually." Draco chuckled and touched Luna's shoulder lightly. "Luna here demonstrated the futility of going against the Slytherin Syndicate and myself. You would have been pleased." Draco nodded towards the Deadly Viper members that were with him, Goyle and Crabbe included, and his posse followed behind him.
They walked into the club through the Muggle entrance as the manager and a waiter, bowed and bestowed compliments after compliments upon Draco. The dance floor was crowded with dancers as the band, three singing women, played furiously on their instruments. They headed upstairs and the waiter slid open the door to the biggest room and the posse stepped inside.
At the bar, Harry sat nursing a cold drink as he watched the Deadly Vipers. He wore a yellow jumpsuit with matching yellow shoes, his sword resting on his lap. He finished his drink and took the stairs towards where he saw them enter. Harry rested his ear against the door.
Inside, Draco was laughing at Crabbe as he told a joke about his father when he suddenly heard a noise. Draco reached into his robe sleeve and threw a dart through the door behind him. "Luna," he said quietly.
Luna stood up, taking her dagger with her, and slid the door open. She stood in a stance, glancing left and glancing right. Unbeknownst to her, Harry had climbed up and braced himself against the beams along the ceiling. Minutes passed, and still Luna gazed around looking for the intruder. She finally sheathed her dagger and plucked the dart out of the beam, still glancing around. Luna entered the room and slid the door behind her.
Harry carefully let himself down and ran his fingers through hair. As much as he wanted to barge into the room, he couldn't. Not yet. Giving himself time to regroup, he headed downstairs towards the unisex bathroom. The Black Dahlia housed a large and luscious bathroom filled with stalls and couches for those who wished to rest. Harry entered one of the stalls.
Pansy slid open the door of the room and headed downstairs towards the bathroom. Just as Harry was zipping up the jacket of his jumpsuit, he heard a familiar ring...and leaned against the door to peek through the crack.
Pansy flipped open her phone. "Hello?" She laughed and pressed her hand against her mouth. "Oh yes, that's right. Tuesday is a perfect time. Three?"
Back upstairs, Draco was drinking his tea when he heard a loud screaming coming from the dance floor. It sounded like...Pansy. "Draco Malfoy! You and I have unfinished business," a familiar voice called out as well.
Luna bounded to the door and the rest of the Deadly Vipers followed after her. Goyle slid the door open and Draco strode out of the room. Draco glanced down at the dance floor and saw Pansy shaking as her eyes met his. From behind her, Harry slowly appeared and smiled a bitter smile at Draco...and used his sword to slice off Pansy's arm at the shoulder, blood spilling everywhere.
This set off the rest of those on the dance floor and they began running out of the club, screaming. Harry released Pansy and she crumpled to the floor, screaming. She began to flail wildly as blood gushed from her shoulder. Draco gripped the railing tightly, his knuckles turning white at the force as he watched Harry advance towards him across the dance floor, sword at the ready.
"Sean," murmured Draco and the Deadly Viper in question flipped over the railing and landed on the dance floor, sword in hand. Harry sliced through Sean's sword and stabbed him through the chest. Sean gasped as Harry lifted him up and tossed him into the pond of water. "Tear the bitch apart!" The rest of Draco's Deadly Vipers rushed down the stairs to attack Harry. He swiftly dispatched them with ease.
Harry stared back up at Draco and smiled. "So, Draco, got anymore subordinates for me to kill?"
"Hi."
Luna appeared on the second stairwell with a chain and ball in hand. Harry nodded towards the young girl. "Luna, right?"
She inclined her head. "Bingo. And you're the Chosen One." She walked down the stairs as Harry walked across the dance floor to meet her.
"Our reputations proceed us."
Luna tilted her head. "Don't they?"
"Luna, I've known you of old. I know you wish to protect your master but I beg you, please walk away."
She stared at Harry for a moment and began to giggle. "You call that begging? You can beg better than that." Luna gave enough slack to allow the ball from the chain fall to the floor and Harry stared at it. He raised his sword in response and Luna began to swing the ball over her head.
Harry took small steps backwards as Luna advanced. Luna swung the ball towards Harry and he knocked it aside. Luna pulled the ball back with the chain and swung it again. This time it wrapped itself around Harry's sword and she yanked the sword out of his hands and out of his range.
Luna charged after him and Harry jumped onto a wooden table, grabbing a wooden table leg from the floor as Luna swung her ball towards him. He gripped the table leg and swung the ball back towards her. Luna dodged to the side, not noticing the ball bouncing off a column and heading straight towards her head.
The ball knocked Luna on her head and she stumbled to the ground. She quickly rose to her feet and swung the chain back towards Harry. He ducked out of the way and smirked when the ball slammed into another wooden column, but he realized Luna's trick too late. When the ball became anchored, she swung the chain and hooked it around Harry's neck. Luna tightened her hold on him, swung another length of chain around Harry's neck, and came in closer.
Harry's hands flew to his neck, trying to find some slack in the chain to breathe, and he fell to his knees. His face reddened as he tried gasping for air. He quickly recalled his table leg on the floor and when Luna came within striking distance, he smacked it against her foot.
She yelped and that gave Harry enough time to rise to his feet and slam the table leg into Luna's head, the nails embedded on the end sticking directly into her brain. Luna released the chain, letting Harry breathe. She stared at him, blood trickling from her eyes and nose, as she collapsed to the ground.
Harry strode to his sword, carefully lifted it from the floor, and smiled at Draco. Draco stared at Luna's dagger she had left behind to use her chain and ball. Suddenly sounds of engines revving, both car and motorcycle, began to fill the Black Dahlia and it brought a smirk to Draco's face.
"Is that what I think it is?" asked Harry as he raised his eyebrow.
"What? Did you really think it was going to be that easy?"
Harry laughed. "You know, for a second there, yeah. I kind of did."
"Silly hare, really," began Draco.
"Kettle calling a black pot," Harry responded.
Suddenly the Muggle entrance to the Black Dahlia burst open and Blaise Zabini ran in, screaming, a sword sheathed in a wooden scabbard. Behind him, dozens of Deadly Vipers in suits flooded the Black Dahlia. Harry raised his sword as the Vipers circled him. They raised their swords in turn...and Harry attacked.
He sliced through one Viper and parried two attacks. He kicked another away and rolled from another as he rose to his feet. Time had no meaning to Harry as he focused solely on killing all the Deadly Vipers who stood in his way. Blood splashed onto his yellow jumpsuit but more blood spilled onto the floor and washed the walls.
A movement upstairs caught his eye and he saw the white robe of Draco leaving through a room and he felt his heart race. No! His prey couldn't escape him. Not now. He sliced through more Deadly Vipers as he made his way up the stairs. Suddenly Harry was slammed through the wooden wall. He turned his head and saw Blaise with his sword sheathed in a wooden scabbard.
Blaise inclined his head and attacked. Harry countered and blocked as Blaise moved as quick as a serpent. He unsheathed his sword from his scabbard and began to use both to strike. Harry jumped onto the railing of the second floor and Blaise followed, spinning round and round. A thought occurred to Harry and he jumped back, ducking low and sliced through Blaise's legs. The man screamed as he stumbled and fell into the bloody water below him.
Harry stared at the mutilated bodies below and took in the groans of pain from those Deadly Vipers still alive. "Those of you lucky enough to have your lives, take them with you. However, leave the limbs you've lost. They belong to me now. Except you, Pansy! You stay right where you are!"
Harry snapped his sword to the side to clear the excess blood and entered the room he'd seen Draco enter. There was a backdoor to it and he slid the door open, stepping into a winter garden. He scanned the horizon, looking for his target when he heard Draco's gentle voice and his eyes followed to the far corner of the garden.
"Your instrument is quite impressive. Where did you get it?"
"Budleigh Babberton." The two adversaries slowly closed the distance between them, pausing when they were three yards away from each other.
"And whom in Budleigh Babberton made this sword?"
"Horace Slughorn."
Draco stared at Harry. "You lie."
Harry flashed the hilt of his sword so Draco could see the Slughorn mark engraved on the steel. Draco chuckled and shrugged a shoulder. "Swords, however, never get tired. I hope you saved your energy. If you haven't...you may not last five minutes But as last looks go, you could do worse."
Draco stepped out of his footwear, easy to slip off loafers, and pushed them behind him with his socked foot. He bent his knees, twisting a bit to the side as he knelt to touch the snow with his fingers and still be able to face Harry. When he straightened, Draco lifted his sheathed sword horizontally in front of him and lightly removed his sword. With his sword in his right hand and the black scabbard in his left, he smiled at Harry.
The fight began.
Draco met Harry's moves strike for strike. It seemed the blond had learned much from his years under Snape's tutelage. Harry backwards flipped and it seemed that Draco anticipated the move as he quickly shifted and sliced Harry's back. Harry cried out and stepped back. "I see you've learned some grace, Draco," he murmured.
Draco laughed. "And I see you haven't learned anything at all." He moved again, and somehow Harry found himself on his back, another wound on his arm. Harry breathed deeply, forcing himself to ignore the pain and waiting for Draco to take the final blow against him. And yet, nothing happened.
Draco stared at him, holding his sword with two hands. "You may not be able to fight like a pureblood, but at least you can die like a pureblood."
Harry rose to his feet shakily, using holding onto his sword handle to steady himself. He raised his sword and nodded to Draco. Their fight began anew and this time it was Draco who was on the defensive. Harry swung his sword and Draco limped back, staring down at his wizarding robes. A drop of blood splash onto his socked foot and blood began to soak through the side of his robes.
"For my earlier insults, I apologize," murmured Draco, as the silent night threatened to overtake them.
"Apology accepted." Harry raised his sword as Draco raised his and they raced towards each other. Harry blocked the first attack and spun around to strike. Draco missed the parry and he dropped his sword as he felt the blow.
Harry panted loudly as his arms were raised in the air with sword in one hand. The top portion of Draco's head had flown off and landed somewhere in the snow.
"That really was a Horace Slughorn sword," Draco said before his eyes rolled upwards and he crumpled onto the snowy ground, blood slowly mixing in with the white snow.
Harry won and he slowly made his way back into the club, his aching body groaning in pain. An hour later found him staring into the trunk of Pansy's car at Pansy's whimpering self. A helmet blocked his face from Pansy's view but it was no less frightening to her. Yet she was still a Slytherin and nothing Harry did would take that away from her.
"I am not telling you anything!" Pansy said angrily and spat at Harry.
She couldn't see the smile but knew, she just knew, there was one on his face. "Oh, but I am going to ask questions, and you're going to answer them. I want all the information on the Death Dealers. What they've been doing and where I can find them. And every time you don't give me answers, I will cut something off. And I promise you, they will be things that you'll miss! Give me your other arm!"
And Pansy screamed.
***
Harry pulled Pansy out of the truck of the car and pushed her down the hill, watching her roll near the entrance of the hospital.
Hours passed and Pansy sat staring out the window of her hospital room, listening to Snape breathe behind her. She did not want to turn around and face him, did not want to disgrace herself further. "Pansy, Pansy, I'm so sorry."
She flinched at his words. "Please forgive me of my betrayal."
Yellow stained fingers caressed her cheek and began to touch her hair. "No more of that."
"But still...I-"
"But still nothing. Nothing," he continued as he rested his hands on her frail shoulders. "Except my aching heart, at what he's done to my beautiful and brilliant Pansy." Snape paused. "Can you guess why he kept you alive?"
She laughed, though her laughter was half a cry and all bitter. "Guessing won't be necessary. He informed me...he said I could keep my wicked life for two reasons...."
Pansy flashed back to just earlier in the evening as she was trapped in the trunk of her own car staring up at Harry's shielded face. "As I said before, I've allowed you to keep your wicked life for two reasons. And the second reason is so you can tell him in person everything that happened here tonight. I want him to witness the extent of my mercy by witnessing your deformed body. Don't expect him to whip up any potions to grow back those parts. I've made sure they remain stumps. I want you to tell him all the information you just told me. I want him to know what I know. I want him to know that I want him to know. And I want them all to know they'll all soon be as dead as Draco."
Pansy gulped back a sob as she duly stated what Harry told her. She felt his hands tighten on her shoulders. "One more thing, Pansy. Is he aware that his son is still alive?" She blinked and stared at the floor, all sorts of thoughts swirling in her mind.
Somewhere far away from London, on a plane in the sky, Harry sat in his window seat with the dinner tray down. A blank piece of paper sat before him and he began to write. The title he wrote on top "Death List Five" and he started listing down the names of the Death Dealers.
1. Draco Malfoy - Runespoor
2. Cho Chang - Stormcrow
3. Lucius Malfoy - Wind Serpent
4. Bellatrix Black Lestrange - Black Widow
5. Severus Snape
He crossed out Draco's name. With the information Pansy gave him, he knew exactly where Cho was and what she had been doing. As soon as the plane landed in Manchester, she was a dead witch.
